#i tried to get out coherent thoughts and not just the blood-curdling screams rattling through my brain rn

[lit-in-thy-heart]

It's the way that one of Crowley's last desperate attempts to convince Aziraphale not to go is to say: 'you can't leave this bookshop'. The same bookshop that Aziraphale said was 'ours', in the same way he said 'I thought we'd carved [this peaceful, fragile existence] out for ourselves'.

It's a place that belongs to them, for all the intrusions in this series from Heaven and Hell. A place where Crowley leaves his glasses on an ornamental horse, where the tangible trail of Aziraphale's existence is scattered among the shelves, where they sit and drink themselves silly. It's the epitome of the two of them being 'us'. And it's as if he's saying to Aziraphale look around, look at everything we've built, there are the books I saved for you in 1941, you said it was ours and how can it be ours if you're not here?

It has Aziraphale's name on the front and Crowley's comfort through the door and not even a fire stopped them from getting it back so how can Aziraphale just walk away?

And in that moment, Crowley doesn't have the courage to say exactly what he's thinking, not after feeling like his entire speech has been brushed over. So, it's you can't leave this bookshop, not you can't leave me.

[moonknightly]

Hit and Run : Poe Dameron x Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Excerpt: “He always felt so safe in your arms. In your embrace, there was no fighting, no war. Poe wasn’t a general, he was simply Poe. Your Poe. He always loved it when you called him that.”

Warnings: I said some bad words, Poe is sad as always. This literally started out as being a comfort fic but it took a turn I’m soRRY

It was always the same damn thing. Poe had been having the same fucking nightmare for years, and he figured he’d be used to it by now. He figured he would have built up some sort of immunity to the false images that rattled inside his brain while he slept, and sometimes, it seemed that way. Some nights he could deal with them, and he’d sleep until morning, waking with only a mild sense of discomfort.

Tonight was not one of those nights.

Tonight, his dreams jerked him awake at nearly three in the morning with the incessant pounding of his heart and sweat beading across his forehead. The blankets were tangled, hanging mostly on the floor, and fuck, was that a pillow on the other side of the room? Had he thrown it?

Maker, his chest was so tight.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, his head instantly falling into his hands as he tried to collect himself, tried to stitch together the broken shards in his mind until he could form a coherent thought. He couldn’t think straight, he couldn’t focus.

He couldn’t breathe.

Poe hadn’t had a panic attack in a long, long time, but the feeling was almost engraved into his being, carved into his ribs with a blunt knife, fragments breaking and piercing his lungs and stealing the air right out from them.

He couldn’t fucking breathe.

Could think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t feel anything but his heart beating against the wall of his chest and the collar of his shirt sticking to the back of his neck, completely soaked and dripping wet. He took the hem between his fingers and ripped it off, sending it flying towards the ground with the discarded pillow.

It didn’t help. His skin still felt like it was on fire.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, digging the palms of his hands into his eyes, starting to rock himself back and forth. It was pathetic, he knew he looked utterly pathetic but truth be told that’s how he felt.

He wasn’t supposed to let himself get like this. He was a leader, and this was not how leaders conducted themselves. The thought made him feel so completely weak. Damaged.

So many times did Poe let his title go to his head.

General.

He was the fucking general and he was acting like a new recruit on their first night away from home. He shouldn’t get nightmares, not after so long, and he especially shouldn’t let his dreams haunt him like this. They shouldn’t send him spiraling further and further downwards until he felt like he could never pick himself up again. He shouldn’t be fucking panicking.

And he certainly shouldn’t be stumbling through the base in such a haste, trying to get to the one spot he thought might make him feel safe again.

He always felt so safe in your arms. In your embrace, there was no fighting, no war. Poe wasn’t a general, he was simply Poe. Your Poe. He always loved it when you called him that.

The Resistance could skip from planet to planet, base to base, but your arms always made him feel as if he had a home.

But going to your quarters so late at night was beyond risky, because no one knew. You and Poe had been together for so long, and still no one knew of your feelings for one another.

It had been your decision to keep things a secret, not wanting anyone to think you were climbing the ranks for sleeping with your, at the time, commander. The name you had built for yourself would only be further judged and dissected now that he was the general if word ever got out.

Sometimes he wished Leia had never trusted him with the damned title.

Sometimes he really fucking hated it.

Poe stood outside of your door for a moment or two, trying to calm himself down just a little bit before letting himself in, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t get a grip on himself or his emotions and he needed you.

He punched your code into the keypad on the wall, and the door slid open with a small hiss. He was surprised to find you sitting up in bed, the soft glow from several lit candles casting shadows across your features, and the first complete thought that entered his mind since waking was just how breathtaking you looked in front of him, your silhouette almost beckoning to him.

Your eyes drifted up from your datapad as you heard him move closer, not having realized anyone had entered the room until you heard the sound of bare feet pattering across the floor. Poe watched as your eyebrows shot up in surprise, and your hands were suddenly free and reaching out towards him. He loved that about you — how you always seemed to know what he needed without him having to ask for it.  

“Poe, baby, hey. What is it?” you asked gently, ever so softly, letting him practically collapse into you. You hadn’t seen him so shaken since Leia’s passing.

He couldn’t speak, didn’t really want to. He just wanted to be with you and forget about the violent pictures floating through his head. His friends, his family, you — all bloodied and beaten and dead before his eyes. Fire, the smell of burning flesh and the sound of blasters firing all around. Your blood curdling scream was still ringing in his ears, and the terror he had seen in your eyes was making his heart break because he hadn’t been able to save you. He could never save you. He just wanted it to stop.

You knew. You knew exactly why the man in your arms was trembling under your touch, and why he had taken a chance on getting caught just to be with you. You were no stranger to his nightmares, having witnessed them each time you stayed the night with him, but it was rare that you’d see them hit him like this.

“Baby, you’re safe.” Your voice was just as gentle as before, your hands smoothing across his shoulder blades in a soothing manner. “I’m right here.”

“I’m so scared I’m going to lose you.”

“Poe-”

“I can lose anything, everything, but I can’t fucking lose you.”

You cupped his cheeks, forcing him to look up into your eyes, your thumb swiping across his skin so softly, it made him wonder how someone like you could exist.

“What brought this on sweetheart?”

He knew you meant his panic attack, and his words, not his dream specifically. He’d been so focused on the nightmare he hadn’t taken a moment to consider outside factors, and suddenly, it clicked. He understood why his nightmare was ten times more intense, and why it felt so much more real, and why it nearly brought him to his knees from the anguish.

It was all a very real possibility.

He could lose you. He could lose you at any given moment, given how you both lived your lives, but the threat was there more than ever, looking over his head, taunting him.

“Please don’t go on that mission tomorrow.”

He sounded so completely broken. So wrecked, so desperate. You couldn’t even respond, his words making your body go rigid, your voice trapping itself in your throat.

“Please stay here with me.”

“Poe you know I can’t do that.”

“Yes you can. I’ll send someone else, anyone else. Just not you.”

It would be different if he could go with you, he thought. Really, if anyone could go with you. But the mission was risky, and they couldn’t send more than one pilot in fear of drawing unwanted attention.

“Fuck it, I’ll go. I just need you to stay here where I know you’re safe.”

“Baby, no. You’re needed here, you know that.”

He pulled himself out of your arms, rubbing his hands over his face as he stood, starting to pace. “I don’t fucking want this anymore.”

His words sent you on edge, because you weren’t exactly sure what he meant, and again, you found yourself frozen, waiting to see which direction he would take this.

“I don’t want to be General Dameron anymore, I wanna be Commander Dameron again. I want to be able to fly and go on missions like this so you don’t have to.”

Poe’s eyes were wild, his hands moving into his hair to pull against the strands, and your mind continued to race as you watched him, the nerves in your stomach only growing.

“I hate saying goodbye to you because I’m always so scared you’re never going to come back to me, and I can’t even fucking kiss you before you jump into your X-Wing for fucks sake!”

You blinked, several times, trying to process his words.

Were you the problem? Were you the reason he didn’t feel like he could do his job? Was he spending too much time focusing on you and your safety that he was forgetting how to be a leader?

“Would it be easier if we weren’t together then?”

It was Poe’s turn to blink, as if he couldn’t believe the words that had just left your mouth. He couldn’t. “Did you really just ask me that? Are you serious?”

“Poe, think about it-”

“No,” he interrupted you, shaking his head hastily as he gripped your chin between two of his fingers, forcing you to look up into his eyes. “Absolutely not. You’re not leaving me right now.”

“Poe-”

“Do you not understand that you’re the only thing getting me through this war anymore?”

You stayed quiet, trying to look away from him, but he wouldn’t allow it, shaking your head gently to regain your attention.

“I wouldn’t be terrified of sending you out on missions like this if I thought I’d be better off without you. I wouldn’t be here now if I thought that. Baby I need you.”

You still didn’t respond, not knowing how to. All of your words seemed to escape you completely, and all you could do was stare at him with round eyes.

He stared back, for a long time, as if he were trying to memorize your features, commit them to memory. “Please don’t go tomorrow.”

Swallowing thickly, you took his wrist, pulling your chin out of his hold, shaking your head gently. “I have to.”

“No. You have to be here with me.”

“Don’t make me choose between you and this war. I don’t think you’ll like the answer.”

Poe took a step back, as if your words had physically hit him in the gut, and he felt his chest clench even tighter than before.

“I’m not asking you to choose.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose, just about to say something else when he beat you to it.

“I’m just asking you to sit this one out. Please. Just this one mission, let someone else go.”

That same desperation entered his tone again, and you wanted to say yes. You wanted to cave and give into him and reassure him, but you couldn’t. You knew you were stepping into something dangerous, and you couldn’t put that on anyone else, refused to put it on anyone else.

Poe knew he had lost when you were still quiet a minute later, and his face fell as you shook your head, looking away from him.

“It’s late. I have to be up early. You should go.”

The sound of his heart shattering was almost deafening in his ears. “I can’t stay?”

“Not tonight.”

Anything that was left of his heart broke completely, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, not wanting to see the expression on his face.

“What did I do wrong? I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

“By putting others at risk. You know I’m the best candidate for this, you know I’m more qualified than anyone.”

He was silent, for several long moments before finally sighing and shaking his head — a clear sign that he had given up fighting with her on it.

“I just want to be with you tonight. Please, will you just give me that much?”

Poe knew you would before you even nodded your head, and he decided to take his small victory and relish in it, knowing it was all he would get. He climbed into your bed and pulled you into his arms, tucking the covers tightly around you both, almost as if they would keep you there come morning.

They wouldn’t.

You had managed to slip out without waking him, before the sun was even up. He never even had the chance to see you off, no one did. He didn’t get to kiss you, or tell you he loved you. You were just gone.

And he hated what that meant.

He knew it was intentional, because he knew how you handled your emotions — he’d been with you long enough, it was as if he knew every single inch of your being inside and out.

You were scared. Just like he was. Scared that you weren’t going to come back, scared that you would never get to see him again. Scared that this mission was your last. You didn’t say goodbye because you were terrified and you knew that Poe would ask you to stay once again, and you knew that you’d give in. You knew that he would kiss you, and you’d melt into the palm of his hand, give him anything and everything he wanted.

He should’ve felt you get out of bed.

Poe felt the panic start to rise again, and he suddenly couldn’t stand being surrounded by all of your things, by your scent. Your room, your bed, your clothes — they were all still here but you were gone, and you didn’t think you were coming back. He felt like he was going to be sick.

He stood from the bed, and let himself back into the hallway, not caring for even a second that he was still shirtless and that he definitely wasn’t alone. He couldn’t give a damn that he had just been caught leaving your quarters after so obviously being there all night because all he could think about was the fact that you were gone, and his nightmares were becoming his reality.

He couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t fucking breathe.

He needed you.

He needed you but you left him like a hit and run, and for the first time in so long, Poe Dameron felt so utterly alone.

For the first time, he didn’t feel like there was anything left to fight for.