Rey some how managed to stop feeling....aroused by her lovers. Whether that was because she figured out how to control it, or that Finn and Poe weren’t in the mood, was beyond her. No, she found herself retracing her steps, exploring the room she once had. A room she spent a lot of time in, examining her old writing desk, shelves with scrolls or books...

And tucked between a few books were old letters she left for Poe and Finn. Words of love to make them smile or laugh....was it weird she could vaguely recall the swipes and swirls of her quilt on the parchment.

They never stepped in her room. Not since she died. They didn’t find her notes to keep their spirits up. Fuck, she felt so guilty for it. Granted, it wasn’t her fault but...they needed these letters. Just as she needed them when she was younger.

“Come in,” She murmured, and a second later the door opened, showing her in her pajamas still, and looking lost. Slowly she turned to them, holding out the letters she had written ages ago.

“You...you two were supposed to have these.”