a spiteful writer

You feel a weak pull at the fabric of your shirt, but you can’t pay attention to it. The only thing that consumes you is the need to see the blood of this man splattering the floors. What the tunnel vision doesn’t allow you to see is the crowd start to get closer to the pair of you, causing a shock when an arm wraps around your middle and pulls you off.

Wiggling in their hold, you stab your elbow into their side to get back into the fight when your eyes fall to the crumpled position of Denel. Like water to a flame, the anger is seeped from your body, leaving panic in its place. Blood pours from a wound above his eyebrow like a faucet, pooling on the floor where it’s joined by a stream leaking from both nostrils.

Pulling at the person’s hold again, you screech: “Let go of me!”

The hold is released and you fall to your knees, crawling over to where he lays and skimming your shaking hands over his face to appraise him. Bruises are already starting to bloom on his face, but much to your relief, the wound above his eyebrow doesn’t appear as large as the blood flow makes it out to be. However, he’s dazed, wincing and eyes closing in pain as the fluorescent light breaks through the narrow slits that he tried to look at you through.

With a glare, you glance at the man you tackled who lays on the floor unconscious and the surrounding faces of the Resistance that had now quieted.

“And you say you are the good side.” You snarl, and their eyes guiltily dart away from where you stare them down.

You try to pull Denel up, but in his state he’s hardly able to lift himself up. He groans in effort as you get him to sit up, Poe kneeling beside you to help but you snap at him.

“I can do it.” As soon as the words leave your lips, you feel guilty. You didn’t want to take your anger out on Poe yet again, especially when you definitely couldn’t lift Denel on your own, but the betrayal you felt at your teammate being attacked festered in you.

Ignoring you, Poe softly says “No you can’t,” wrapping his arm across Denel’s shoulders. With a nod you two lift him up and settle him between you. The crowd splits to allow you to exit, everyone you pass avoiding your gaze like cowards. It seems ridiculously juvenile, and you couldn’t believe you replaced for one playground for another.

You and Poe slowly walked Denel to the med unit in silence. Disappointment towards yourself settled on your shoulders, adding to the weight of your teammate against you. Was it a good idea to come here? Verbal—and now physical— attacks were thrown at you every time you stepped out of the safety of your quarters. At the time of your escape, you considered this the only available place of safety in the galaxy, considering the experience you had in the Order. However the constant challenges against that choice were becoming tiresome.

You look over at Denel who pants in short and rapid breaths, likely due to at least one broken rib. The guy was huge. Turning your attention back to the hallways in front of you, you blankly stare at the floor.

Maybe even Tatooine would have been a better choice than this pit.

_____

You lean your back against the wall with your arms crossed as you listen to the nurses deal with the wounds that Denel sustained. A broken nose, 2 broken ribs, a concussion, and a quarter-inch gash above the eyebrow. Luckily, the unit recently was able to their hands on bacta and so he should be close to normal by at least tomorrow, but the dread stays settled in your gut.

Poe exits out of the door that stands to your left, joining you as he tenderly rubs at his ribs with a sigh. You glance at him in curiosity.

“What happened?” You asked, staring at where he rubs.

He chuckles, a smile adorning his face, “Oh you know…tried to pull a blood hungry wolf off of a someone who tried to mess with a member of her pack.” Your eyebrows pull together in concern.

“That was you?” You face him and lay your hand on his ribs, your head falling to rest of his chest, “Oh Poe—Kriff, I’m so sorry. Genuinely.” Guilt floods you and heat burns at your face. Why does this keep happening?

Poe’s hands rest on your back and he softly traces a thumb back and forth, “You should’ve seen the other guy,” He says, humor laced in his voice.

You lift your head, “Are you okay?” You ask, still concerned.

“I’m fine. Just a bruise.” His eyes trail down to your hands, where he lets his own hands fall to, lifting them up and staring at the blood that litters your knuckles.

“Throwing it back to you…are you okay? You need to see the nurses to get this taken care of.” At the warmth radiating from his palms into yours, you pull away, not wanting to unpack the feeling that you got from how comforting it was.

“It’s okay. I’ve had worse…” You trail off, but he looks less than pleased.

“I’m not having someone in my care risk the chance of infection,” Poe states, pulling you into the room where Denel lays on one of many patient beds, 3 nurses surrounding him. He weakly smiles at you as you pass, which you return.

Poe leads you to another nurse, who stands in a further corner of the room looking at a collection of supplies. You look in amusement as he explains what you need, and it’s at this moment you’re happy you have at least one person truly on your side from this base.

After being cleaned and wrapped with a medicated gauze, you sit in a chair by Denel’s side, who now looks much fresher since given his initial treatment. Poe decided he could wait outside to give the two of you space, and you appreciated the privacy it somewhat gave you considering each bed was separated by a fabric curtain.

“So,” you start, “how did you end up on the floor?”

He’s silent for a moment, pursing his lips in thought before responding. “I wasn’t expecting to be swung at. Honestly, I don’t even know what started it.” His index finger on a hand that lays across his chest starts to bounce up and down.

“I had heard him and his group talking among themselves about me. I’ve been able to tune most everything out when it comes to conversations around this base. Nothing good ever comes of listening to them…they just want to get a rise out of you to see if you fit their expectations,” He takes a staggered breath before continuing, “Maybe I ignored something he said or he took one of my self-mumblings to heart, but one moment I was standing and the next I was on the floor.”

You shake your head in disbelief. Is this really how deep the hatred lays among the people in the Resistance? Though you had to be fair—the First Order is an oppressing hand on the galaxy and you know the horrors that were done on the people who didn’t agree with how they rule.

You lean forward in your chair to allow your head to fall into your hands. “I’m sorry. We never should have come here.”

A silence rests between you again, only broken by the sounds of beeping and shuffling feet that usually accompany a med unit.

“It’s—I—,” He stumbles on his words, “I consider it karma for what I did to Kole” he says, and your head snaps up to look at him in shock. A somber and ingenuine smile lifts the corner of his mouth and you frown in return.

“That’s bantha shit, Denel. Whatever karma that may have needed to be fulfilled for Kole was done when Ren put you on death’s door. What happened today should not have happened.”

He doesn’t say anything as he just stares at you before giving a single nod, probably just to shut you up.

You look at him in earnest, “Please promise me you understand today wasn’t deserved.”

With a sigh and dramatic roll of his eyes, “I promise, Commander .” Your spine zips up like a pole was stabbed straight down your back and you suddenly felt uncomfortable to be sitting in the room.

You purse your lips and stand up slowly. “That’s not me anymore,” you say softly.

You give a small pat to his shoulder, “Get some rest.” And you leave the room, walking right past Poe.

You need to isolate yourself. Too much has happened today and all you wanted was the dark recesses of your windowless room. You can hear Poe’s footsteps behind you and the concerned call of your name, but you didn’t want to answer him. What was the point? Sure, one person on base that was consistently on your side was nice. But what about all of the others?

There were hundreds of people here that wanted you dead, for good reason. You commanded a team of killers that assassinated whole legions of people who just wanted a separate life free from the demand of the First Order. What kind of person were you to live while billions of innocents perished at the power that you enforced?

Thump thump thump your heart thunders in your ears again and your eyes get watery as you recall the blood that covered your hands hardly an hour ago. You unclench your fists that you unconsciously had tightened by your side and stare at them in horror. Why are these the hands chosen to still move when the only life they’ve known was to harm the lives of others? You arrive at your quarters and slam the button to your door, stiffly walking to your bed and collapsing on the floor to cradle your knees to your chest.

Thump thump thump your chest starts to hurt and you claw at your sternum, gasping for breath as tears cascade from your eyes. Guilt consumes you, the pain eating you from the inside as it starts to get harder and harder to breathe. You had to find somewhere to go, leave in the night to the farthest planet out of reach from the war and stay there until death inevitably calls for you. You start to shake now, tremors and shivers wracking your body as each explosion and lifeless body you’ve caused flash by your eyes, sobs leaving your mouth and—

Suddenly there’s only Poe, the warmth from his palms radiating into your shoulders as a look you could only describe as unbridled alarm molds his face.

“It’s alright, you’re okay, you’re safe,” He repeats, cycling through them and starting to rub up and down your arms.

You sniffle. “No, it’s not alright and I’m not okay. I shouldn’t even be here, Poe. All I’ve ever done is hurt people, and being here is continuing the damage I was born to do.” He stops his ministrations as he listens unblinkingly, “You of all people shouldn’t be telling me it’s okay, especially when it’s you I keep on hurting.”

Another shiver shakes your body as you continue, “I hate hurting people…I hate hurting you . And the more I think about it, the more guilty I am that I’m still alive to do it.” Sobs wrack you again and your head falls to your knees to hide your face from Poe, who never looked away as you poured out the thoughts that kept you up at night.

Instead of resuming the movement from before, he slowly slid himself next to you and maneuvered you to where you could lean against him as he wrapped his arms around you. He’s silent as he lets you cry, his thumb rubbing soothing circles until you eventually cry yourself to sleep.

______

Opening your eyes, a black abyss is all that meets you. Except…it’s not. You sit up, and the water you lay in drips down your back soundlessly into the shallow pool that caresses a sheer blood red dress that loosely holds you. A copy similar to the gray that adorns your form in the dream that meets you all other nights of the week. Unlike your other dream as well, there’s a combination of scattered whispers that feel so close and yet so far—inexplicably like they’re just out of reach.

Looking around in interest, you try to make out any other difference from what you’re beginning to get used to but see nothing before you turn your head to look straight in front of you. And then there it is.

Standing only feet in front of you, towering over where you remain seated, is a figure shrouded completely in black.

“You’ll return to what you know, child.” It says, it’s tone scratchy and deep.

“Wha—?” As you start to move to stand up, you’re shoved down by a heavy force unlike any you’ve ever known, the breath knocking straight out of you.

The water surrounding you is illuminated red as the figure pulls out a lightsaber much like the one Ren yields, their arm extends up and just as they swing down you gasp awake.

Poe startles awake as well, asking what was going on as if you knew either.

Unbeknownst to you, in a part of the galaxy far far away, joined Kylo Ren. Quickly pulling himself from his bed, he shrugged on his uniform and latched his mask. There had been a disturbance in the force.

a/n: probably going to fix this up tomorrow when I’m not tired. Thank you all for sticking with this!!

Taglist:

@mydaydreaming-stuff @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace

Poe snickers, “You know, it would probably be easier to take the entire thing apart compared to whatever you’re trying to do.”

You shoot a glare behind your shoulder to your newly appointed guard and find a grin beginning to lift the corners of his mouth. With a small shake of your head, you go back to your attempt at getting this bolt out. To at least have one success today.

“I guess I’ve been thinking wrong about your role with the Resistance. All this time, I thought you were just a glorified lap dog, but apparently, you’re a droid as well.” The wrench slips off of the bolt again and you let your arm weakly fall to your side as you rub your temple with your free one.

There’s a silence filled with the sounds of the hanger before Poe responds, “I know you probably think that’s an insult, but droids are super useful.”

A small laugh escapes you and you take the rejuvenation as a chance to continue trying to take out a bolt, but the wrench still won’t catch its curves. Throughout your entire time sitting next to this machine, you’ve done nothing but move to different sections with each failed attempt at even taking it apart. You take the hint with a sigh, deciding to call it quits. With a grumble, you toss the wrench down and slide a hand down your face in exasperation.

“And you know, that’s what I’ve been trying to do, but all of these stupid bolts are practically stripped.” You turn your head to where he’s standing behind you, cooly sipping the caf he just came back with. After a moment of just watching you, he takes another sip while walking, then crouches next to you to get a better look. He hums after appraising it and stands back up.

“Yeah, they’re definitely stripped all right. I would help, but I don’t have the upgrades yet to take those kinds of bolts out.” He lifts his hands and makes a turning motion starting with his wrists, mimicking a droid. You roll your eyes. 

“I could go get a buddy of mine for a price.” A smile begins to lift the corners of his lips, with you fighting the one on your own that wants to match his. It physically pained you that you were on the cusp of giving him the satisfaction of laughing at his behavior again, but you cave, your face getting warm with the effort of holding it in.

You let out an airy chuckle, “I’m afraid the only thing I have to offer here is a cup of caf. Other than that, you’re out of luck.”

“Then I’m in luck because I was just starting to run out.” He shakes his cup so you can hear its nearly empty sloshing. 

You stand up from your crouch to be closer to his height than you were and motion to the cup, “Didn’t you just come back with that?”

He shrugs, “...So, do you want me to get BB?”

You shake your head, “No, this thing is out of commission anyway. I was just using this to give me something to do.” Poe’s eyebrows begin to pull together and he opens his mouth as if he wants to talk, but nothing comes out.

“Actually…this is one of our backup fighters.” Your mouth falls open slightly in disbelief. There’s no way this hunk of junk has any chance of going up against a First Order fighter. 

“You’re lying–” You cross your arms across your chest, “I specifically asked for a decommissioned ship. Why would you guys give me a backup fighter?” 

“Maybe people are starting to trust you,” he shrugs again and takes another sip from his cup.

You point back at B-wing that has rust flaking off of it with every breath of a breeze that comes into the hangar. “That thing is hardly near the condition to be put into battle. It’s basically a death trap.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s a death trap, necessarily.” He hands you his now-empty cup, which you take without questioning, and lifts himself to get into the cockpit. “Look.” He says, but now you start to question his decisions.

“Wha–Poe…” You step closer to him, your head now at where his feet are dangling as he shimmies in.  

You gawk at him, “That is definitely not safe. Get down.”

He shoots you an amused look when he’s seated, “You said I sounded like a droid and now here you are sounding like a mother.” You purse your lips in aggravation. The nerve of this guy. B-wings aren’t something to play with.

“Someone clearly needs the influence if they’re attempting to fly a machine of certain death.” 

He laughs and playfully rolls his eyes, “You know, you’re pretty funny. Maybe not as funny as me, but you’re up there.” Your eyebrows pull together, and you try to get a response, but he’s lifted into the air before you’re able to.

At the sound of the engine struggling to start, you take a few paces back on the off-chance the engine explodes and you wince at the noises it lets out once it comes alive. 

Out of nowhere, someone steps in front of the fighter to direct him out and you mumble expletives under your breath. He’s going to get himself killed. With a sigh, you run over to the person, shouting, “Hey! What are you doing? This thing isn’t cleared for take-off!”

“It is if I’m standing in front of it. I’m only here because it was cleared.” She continues to direct Poe with the sticks in her hands, backing up slowly. You step away too and throw the cockpit a look of utter confusion as Poe just waves at you. In return, you twirl your index finger by your forehead mouthing ‘You’re crazy.’

He laughs, pumping his fist excitedly. You stand there until he’s out of the hangar completely, making enough space for when he decides to take off, which he quickly does–a plume of white smoke following him. You stare up at the sky as he recklessly does tricks and flips, the rest of the people outside also stopping what they’re doing to watch him. You look around at all of the people you know are stroking his ego and you shake your head. With a sharp turn, you walk back into the hangar and throw the cup you’ve been holding into the trash before walking back to your room.

-----

Little time passes before you hear the door to your room open, and you look from your point on the bed to the strutting man who walks in with shameless confidence. With an unamused grunt, you turn your attention back to the holopad and the manual pulled up for the B-wing starfighter.

“Did you have fun?” You don’t spare a glance at him as he sits down next to your legs.

“Proving you wrong? Absolutely.” You give him a quick unimpressed look before going back to your reading material. 

He leans in a little, not being able to help himself from being nosey. “What are you reading?” 

“I’m just further cementing the idea that what you did was reckless and dangerous and the people here need to stop enabling you.”

He laughs, “If everyone were to do that, they’d lose the best pilot in the galaxy.”

Your eyebrows pull together and put your attention on him, “Is that what you call yourself?”

He leans away from you and it looks as if he puffs out his chest before he responds, “It’s what I’m known for.”

You give an amused huff, drawing your eyes back to the pad, “Clearly must be the reason why I had never heard of you and your tricks before I switched sides.”

“Ouch.” He fake winces and grips the middle of his chest, the fabric of his shirt wrinkling in his hand. Seeing he didn’t get your attention, he releases his chest and leans down to where his elbows rest on his knees. A comfortable silence stills between you, the only other sound heard being the two of your breathing and the slide of your finger up the holopad as you scroll.

Just as you’re beginning to melt into your bed since Poe’s arrival, he ruins the silence with his agitating, grating voice. “I wasn’t done with that caf, by the way.”

You drop the holopad to your chest, the clap of it hitting your chest echoing the walls. “It was empty.”

He hums, “I could’ve kept using it.”

You tsk and roll to your side, facing the wall and pulling up the manual again. Unbeknownst to you, Poe’s eyes trail to the exposed skin from where your shirt is pulled against your mattress, a deep need filling his body to just touch it and slide his hands up and down your back. He wanted to know what it felt like as he held you, to rest his head in the place where your neck meets your shoulder…know what sound you would give him if he licked there. The twitch of his cock interrupts his thoughts and he stands up with a harsh cough. You look over your shoulder with concern, “Are you okay?”

“My throat’s a little dry with the reminder you threw my cup away. I’m gonna go grab something.” He goes to leave in a hurry to hide his quickly wakening problem. 

“General Leia made a poor choice to have you as my guard. You don't do it very well,” you say, a hint of disapproval in your voice.

“I didn’t ask for this position,” he snaps, so you can either join me or shut up.” At his words, he can hear the rustle of your sheets as you turn, and he can only imagine the look you’re giving him right now. If he wasn’t overstimulated at the prospect of you finding his dick hard, he’d probably laugh.

“Okay, fine…Maker.” He takes a quick glance at you as you slide up into a sitting position to grab your shoes at the end of the bed and put one on. “I guess it’ll be my job to save yours,” you grumble.

As you put on the other one, he looks away from you and subtly tucks his issue under his waistband, hoping you’re still fooling with your shoes. Gliding a hand down his middle and past his waistline, he tries to check to see if anything is visible. He releases a low sigh of relief at his check, and the huge weight of anxiety leaves his body when he looks back at you and sees you’re just now standing up, mumbling under your breath as you glare at the floor.

As expected, you shoot him the same glare you just killed the floor with and he receives it with a smile. Your eyes flit across his face, perplexed at his sudden mood change. 

“You give me whiplash,” you say with a tone of irritation, walking past him and out of the door. He quickly follows, the sound of the set of your feet hitting the floor echoes in the hall of the base as he smiles to himself. There are only a few paces done before he responds.

“The feeling’s mutual, sweetheart,” he rubs at the places where your hands connected to his chest a few days ago, “I can still feel the whiplash you gave me right here.” With the last sentence, he decides that instead of rubbing at the spots, he should point at them with his index fingers and make a sort of puppy frown face as he does so. You take a look at him from the corner of your eye and shake your head.

“Don’t remind me,” you briefly close your eyes to will the memory of the interaction away. You couldn’t believe he gave you the option to stay in your room and still decided to go with him anyway. As if to dig into the ever-growing wound, he doesn’t let up.

He gives a dry laugh and claps both of his hands on your shoulders, lightly shaking you as the two of you walk, “Trust me, I’m never letting you live that down.”

You reciprocate his laugh in a more mocking manner and slide his hands off of your shoulders, “I never expected you to. That would require you to be a little more mature.”

He’s silent for a moment. 

“To be fair, you’re not the first one to have shoved me based on a rumor, so maybe I should just add you to my story list and call a truce.” You nod while he pauses, “But that wouldn’t be fun. It brightens my day to see Miss Former Commander embarrassed.” He grins as he waits for your response while staring at your face.

You only look at him blankly before you go back to looking straight ahead.

He sighs dramatically, “Okay, okay, I get the point. I’ll leave it for another day.” Silence hangs between the two of you momentarily before he breaks it, “Sorry for snapping at you, there’s…not really an excuse for it...” He trails off and rubs the nape of his neck while looking at the floor.

The two of you get to the doors of the cafeteria and you face him, “Water under the bridge. It’s pretty mild compared to the things I’m used to.” You offer a light smile to show him that you’re okay, especially his apology bandage helping heal the horror. He reciprocates your smile and gives a single nod. The two of you stare at each other, the break in the conversation making you slightly awkward before you hear a crowd shouting in the caf. Your smiles turn into concern just as you trigger the doors.

When they open, your attention is immediately drawn to a crowd that is situated in the middle of the room, three people being surrounded by it as several encourage whatever is happening. You tsk and relax, your thoughts of something more serious going on puffing out of existence. 

There’s either an arm wrestle or some kind of food-related bet going on, you think. As you both walk towards the commotion, it becomes more evident that a fight is happening rather than a tame bet, the sounds of flesh meeting flesh and a lone groan coming from the middle of the crowd.

You and Poe exchange a concerned look again and the two of you push through the crowd. The people you shove past hurl nasty insults to whoever is being attacked; some along the lines of ‘You don’t belong here,’ ‘You’re going to get everyone here killed,’ ‘You’re a waste of resources.’ As you hear each one, you bristle more and more as you know exactly who such kinds of insults would be used against. When you break past the last line of people surrounding the three, your fears are confirmed.

Denel is being attacked.