#fandom sometimes has to find a moment to chill

[coffee-fueled-cookie]

What do you think the club would be like if you were to marry them

Now, this is probably where I get delusional bc I have to like stretch to make this both appealing for those seeking romance, but realistic enough for the comic truthers. But at the end of the day, if you don't like House wife Josh? Wrap it up

That being said

Josh Levy

"Coffee, stop using Padme and Anakin pictures! They don't even relate to his head canons!" I DON'T CARE, I DO WHAT I WANT 🗣

Now listen

You may think Josh wouldn't be the best husband, that he's as bad as Bill, and maybe... maybe he is, but in my heart

He is the ultimate husband

Josh getting married was a healthy step forward for him. You basically saved him from his fate because now he has something to live for and look towards

Does that mean that he's kind of dependant on you? Yes, and sometimes that's hard in your marriage, but usually, things go pretty smooth

Does cook dinner, tries to develop at least a consistent and normal diet, but I'd believe it's hard. Stress eats when he's upset, you'll find wrappers of things hidden in the trash, old habits die hard

After that fire and his mom dying, things between him and his dad had been really rough, and there was a moment after college where they didn't talk to each other

They probably won't ultimately heal that relationship, but trust that when you both start to get serious, he does actually take the time to introduce you to his Dad

This guy is so deep in his fandom culture that the only cheating you've gotta worry about is his Ao3 tabs and his collected stuff, and even then, he probably sold repeats or unnecessary stuff to actually pay for y'alls wedding

It was a very moving moment for you two (He cried but you're pretty sure part of it was out of pain)

Like in the epilouge, he's probably just Facebook friends with Jerry and Pete, but he doesn't go out with them, they don't hang, he's blocked Bill on EVERYTHING

You're his safe space

Bill Dickey

DIVORCE

The fact this guy actually got married... he bagged a baddie?? Free yourself!

Okay, maybe I'm dramatic, but Epilouge Bill had me ripping my hair out, like how could you POSSIBLY be married to THAT!?

I don't even know what to tell you, this will be the most stretched one

Okay, okay, house wife, but like, doesn't do SHIT house wife

Doesn't know how to cook, will clean but like... complain that he's tired when you get home from work

Does use the money from his ebay gigs to pay for the TV subscriptions tho, so at least there's that

You would think he's miserable folding y'alls undies and sweeping and feeding the cat but honestly this is probably the most chilled out he's been in years

Now all you gotta do is peg him and he'll really evolve

Like I'm serious, the whole shebang, this will help and heal him, I swear it

Will he fight the whole way through? Of course, but you can tell by that light in his eyes and that tightness in his throat that he doesn't mind

He'll probably be vulgar mouthed, call you names, call other people names, but when I tell you that shit holds no malice, he just has high blood pressure

It's a dynamic, that's for sure, and you'll probably still have to deal with his collecting, but as years go by, down the line, he'll consider selling a chunk of it or storing it away

Jerry Stokes

The actual chill guy omg

Biggest thing you gotta worry about is stepping on a miniature he left out or trying to declutter his desk where he'll play his cards or customize shit

A crafty husband

Has paints, card stock, scalpels, all sorts of shit

Magic the gathering cards OUT. THE. ASS. And usually it ain't a problem, bc they're in binders and take up minimal space

But he for sure does magic the gathering youtube videos, and the house must be silent when he does em, so that can be a lil aggravating

You guys have your friend group, not seperate, y'all do everything together, and when you guys aren't, then expect to hear "Where's Jerry?"

I wish I had more to add, you guys get take out every Friday, do breakfast on Saturdays, you guys have a show y'all watch together and get excited when new episodes drop

It's just a very dorky and lovey marriage, there's not much to it

Pete Dinunzio

Y'all probably had a shot gun wedding, very sporadic, super fun, and you woke up with the worst headache imaginable

As for if Y'all knew eachother before then?? That's up to you and your lore

It's super casual, you guys considered yourselves married after sleeping in the same bed for 2 years

You know that couple that looks cool, and do cool shit, and you kinda wish you were spontaneous like them?

But then it turns out they're kinda dysfunctional? Yeah. That's it

If you're fine with him working at Sick MOFO then awesome, that makes life 10x easier

If not... yikes

He lives independently despite having a partner, and sometimes that's great, but when he comes home late as shit without having said anything and you're waiting, crying on the couch and worried, but it turns out he was just hanging with Butchie

That gets old quick

He does try sometimes to touch base and be open, he knows his job can be... problematic for some relationships

So a lot of times he'll make up for it by taking you out, setting time aside strictly for you (this pissed his side bitch Butchie off so bad)

Physical to the max, lays on you full body and sleeps like that, nuzzling on you, blowing raspberries in your neck, he can't keep his hands off

"We're married ain't we? Then I can love on you whenever I want!"

Not necessarily Pete but whatever

[revelboo]

i managed to get my best friend into tf by luring her in with starscream, and now we both eagerly await your newest additions to the starscream x reader storyline so we can read it together after work (we both wanna kiss that silly bot stupid)

Aww thank you! Starscream’s too fun to write and a friend is how I got dragged into the TF fandom originally, too.

18+ 🌶️

Everything is Alright Pt 36

Starscream x Reader- Pent up

• Again. You’re gone again and he makes himself set your things down carefully instead of smashing them even though his wings and servos are trembling with worry and anger. Then he notices the datapad he gave you to play with. You’ve doodled him a crude little stick figure Soundwave and scribbled a message in your weird little human characters that take him a moment to decipher. ‘With Soundwave. Safe.’ Because you knew he’d worry finding you gone. Venting with a soft growl, he heads toward Soundwave’s quarters. Sooner or later he’d need to have a little discussion with the other mech about taking his pet.

• A discussion that will have to wait, he realizes as soon as he enters Soundwave’s quarters and the mech doesn’t even glance up from where he’s working. Not that Starscream notices the slight, he’s too focused on the way you’re curled together with two of the cassettes. Asleep. And as much as he wants, needs, to scoop you up and take you home, you look peaceful like that. So even though it rubs him the wrong way, he leaves you to Soundwave a bit longer and heads to the wash racks instead.

• The big space is thankfully empty and he stretches out his wings as he tips his face into the warm spray, optics shuttering. Remembering the last time and your flustered attempts to hide your body from him. Your all too obvious distress when he’d mass shifted to dry you, and the way you’d fit against him like that, warm and soft and his. Those errant thoughts at the back of his processor stirring at the memory of soft, little hands on him. The way you look sleeping against him. How red your face gets sometimes when he strokes a servo against your cheek or down your arm, your scent changing into something that pulls at him.

• Savoring the heat and feel of water sluicing over him as his wings flick, he checks that he’s still alone. It’s a relief to free his spike, servos curling around himself as he braces a palm against the wall. The heated water against his metal skin as he strokes himself and pretends it’s soft hands sliding over him. Wrapping around his spike. Denta bared, he works himself, hips bucking as he chases that high to the memory of the shape of you. Knows it’s taboo, but he needs this.

• What kind of sounds do you make lost in pleasure? Are you soft all over? Remembers the way you’d used your hands to cover yourself, hiding from him. He’d seen a glimpse, though. Enough to suggest you might fit together as different as you are. It’s a dangerous thought, burning through him, thrumming in his spark. Hips snapping faster as his servos fist himself tighter, strokes becoming rougher, until he hisses through his denta as he comes apart, wings trembling.

• Venting roughly, he washes himself with shaking servos. Tries to put it out of his processor. You’re his and that’s enough, but he’s always been greedy, wanting everything. That warmth in him chilling slightly as he remembers the scent of that stranger in your home. In your bed and he grits his denta. Wanting more, but, there in the back of his processor, the very real worry that pushing for it might ruin what he has now. And that is everything.

Previous

Next

[the-s1lly-corner]

CRP characters crushing on the reader 2/2

Placeholder opening here, check part 1 for the other characters! i dont usually write for zalgo because my take on him is... so... yeah... and hard to write for him, but the idea of this intangible godlike entity that can warp realities falling for someone is horrifying

Characters: Jane, Jeff, Ticci Toby, Nina, Bloody Painter, Zalgo

Notes: reader is GN but post mainly focuses on the canon characters, admin uses any pronouns for nina so if you see the pronouns swapping that's why!, heavy hcs for Zalgo and his part isnt really open for "it gets better and you guys get together" no his part is just... horrifying

CWs: zalgo is zalgo; ie non human entity does not follow human morals and is kind of... toxic and horrifying

JANE

I need you guys to bare with me because this blog has always been hc/au heavy with how I write characters but between all the main crps, Jane is probably the most likely to just.. be a normal person 90% of the time, so the chances of you and her meeting during a normal day is pretty high. She's closed off so you don't even notice that there's feelings developing on her end. If there is a difference it's just her being slightly more affectionate and open to you. She becomes even more protective of you, can you blame her? You've heard of the rumors about her family... She doesn't deny her feelings if you ask her, though, so it's a clean confession when the time comes instead of it just being spilled or forced out.

JEFF

He's so full of himself that he approaches you without thinking anything through because he's so confident that you're going to just fall for him. Makes a lot of jokes with you, some darker than others. Flirts with you up front because once more, he's so confident that you're into him that he doesn't take a moment to consider that you would reject him. Probably takes rejection the worst, at least out of the characters on this list. And that's on being on the run since your mid teen years, he didn't interact with many people because of that. "Oh you dig me" as you slap his arm because he said something dumb.

TICCI TOBY

Very similar to the other proxies, watches you from afar but he decides to interact with you sooner than the other two. He's wary, because he doesn't want to humiliate himself or screw anything up but he's so so so desperate to meet someone new who's in his age range so he's doing his best to appeal to you. Sometimes slips up because he's trying too hard. He can pester you and get on your nerves, but he doesn't mean anything wrong by it... usually.. You outright ask him if he has a crush on you and you can see him internally scrambling for something to say. It's actually a little sweet. Probably the most normal out of them all asides Jane, at least by Creepypasta standards.

NINA

Oh she is so upfront about her feelings for you! Makes you small trinkets and keepsakes with random stuff she finds. Very quick to approach you as well and make a friendship. Very chill if you don't end up returning their feelings, and more than happy to keep up a friendship with you if you want that. A yapper, too, so they have a habit of keeping you by keeping a conversation up and alive longer than others would. Custom kandi for you as well, with your favorite colors and some stuff they know you like! As an aside, Nina is a "cringe fandom enjoyer", so you guys can get into the same things and be cringe and free together! Not related to this post but have it as a bonus!

BLOODY PAINTER

He finds himself drawing you more than he draws his other subjects, and honestly its a little frustrating. You start finding some of his papers laying around. He approaches you so he can try to get even more accurate with his art, having the real thing as a reference is much better than relying off of memories of you wandering around town. Once the initial tenseness dies down, you might be able to get a few words out of him while he's drawing. "Muse of an artist" trope, a lot of the things he makes are dedicated to you in one way or another. His art is the only real tip that there's something going on, because otherwise he's good about swallowing and hiding his emotions.

ZALGO

Bonus character, Zalgo would literally alter the universe if he could to ensure that you're there and his. He can manipulate media, and create creatures.. I mean in my au he's literally the reason half the creepypastas exist... I WAS going to make a joke that he makes a stand in to act for him, but he's so into you that he can't stand the idea of someone else being with you... doesnt matter if he was living vicariously through it. Genuine psychological horror elements here with him warping the world around you in an attempt to get your attention and to get you to come to him. Technical cosmic / otherworldly horror (?) because he's something that transcends just about everything in universe. Simultaneously everywhere at anytime all the time, there is no real way to get away from him. Horrifying stuff.

[rebelliousstories]

Candy Hearts

ValenFics

Relationship: David Loki x Reader

Fandom: Prisoners

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 657

Main Masterlist: Here

Jake Gyllenhaal & Co. Masterlist: Here

Summary: Having a lover at home that packs lunches for him is always sweet. And there are sometimes extra sweets involved.

Consider Donating: Here

Currently, David found himself in a predicament. On one hand, he loved being next to his girlfriend in the morning, just bathing in warmth, and enjoying life. On the other, he needed to go to work to pay their bills. When the cold winter threatened to seep into their house, there was nothing he wanted more than to stay in. Pennsylvanian winters were not for the weak.

In the dead middle of February, there was another issue. Everyone was going on and on about Valentine’s Day that was right around the corner. And while Loki wanted to join in, he was just so unused to doing so. The amount that he worked, and the nature of it has never lended itself to being totally in the moment when he was home, no matter how he tried.

And while David always tried to make her feel appreciated when he was home, regardless of a holiday, it never hurt to do something extra in the case of. But he was not sure what to do. She always took such good care of him. What was he going to be able to do?

Rolling over in their bed, he pressed a kiss to her head, watching how she slept for just another minute or two. Reluctantly, David began his process of getting ready. A scalding shower that only lasted just long enough for him to scrub down his body. Clothes that were thrown on haphazardly as he prepared to brace that familiar chill. Hearty breakfast of no less than two cups of black coffee, with three sugars but he would never let anyone know.

As he ran out the door to make it down to the station, Loki made sure that he snagged his lunch box that his girlfriend that lovingly prepared the night before. It was a small token, but one that he cherished very much. Ducking back into the bedroom, David snuck a final kiss to her sleeping figure, and then he was finally out the door.

Going into the station, he went about his usual routine of doing his work, arguing with his captain, and getting headaches that he would end up medicating with endless cups of coffee. In spite of all of this, David continued to try and find a way to spoil his girlfriend for Valentine’s Day that was within budget. She had not mentioned anything in particular that she wanted as of late. And that just would not work.

Maybe he would get her those ruby droplet earrings that he knew she had saved on her Etsy page. Yeah, that would be a nice treat. Those and a nice dinner the next town over. But for now, he was stuck at work planning about what to do.

Sometimes, he wondered how he got so lucky. He was a man of few words, did not show emotions most of the time, and worked one of the most demanding jobs he could. Which is why Loki wanted to spoil her for the holiday.

When he went to grab yet another cup of coffee, the time on the clock startled him. It was somehow already two in the afternoon, which meant that the window for a lunch break was slowly closing. Bringing his mug back over to the desk he called his own, he grabbed his lunch bag from underneath to dig in.

However, something tumbled out as soon as he opened it. A box of conversation candy hearts. Chuckling, David picked them up, and shook them softly. The rattle inside made him smile. He was not sure why such a small thing was bringing him so much joy; maybe it was because his girlfriend had packed it. But it made him feel better to break them open and enjoy his sweet snack.

Sighing deeply, he knew he needed to pick up another box on his way home to give to his girlfriend as a thank you.

[heythinkyface]

GOLDENHEART HEADCANONS

It is the good year of 2025 and I have just gotten into Nimona and the greatness that it is, so I am here to bring you some Goldenheart content that I feel is much needed.

Yes, I am two years late to the party. I was stubborn and refused to watch it during it's prime when it came out because I was 'too cool for that' and now I am joining a dead-ish fandom.

Ballister is a tea guy, and Ambrosius is a coffee guy. Going off of that, Bal doesn't like his tea sweet, but Ambrosius loveeessss his coffee really sweet.

Bal is a cat guy, and Ambrosius is a dog guy. Simple, ya know.

Bal knows how to line dance.

Bal LOVES to kiss Ambrosius on his forehead, temple, hair, etc. It's his way of saying I love you without really saying it.

They both wear glasses, but Ambrosius tends to favour contacts as it just makes life easier. Ambrosius also has a really soft spot for Bal in glasses (but he won't admit that)

They are both pretty good dancers. That probably comes from the knight training; it's almost like choreography!

Ambrosius LOVES to take selfies of the two of them (and just of Bal), and as much as Bal hates being in pictures, he will do anything to make Ambrosius smile.

During their Knight training, they would often sneak out and go for a ride on their horses. It was one of the only moments they got to themselves.

Ballister's go-to pet name is darling, whereas Ambrosius' is my love.

Bal is an emotional crier, whereas Ambrosius tends to keep it bottled up.

Ballister 100% knows how to crochet/knit.

They both know how to cook pretty decently, but Ambrosius is the one who ends up cooking more often than not.

Bal loves to read. Their place is FULL of books.

More often than not, when they are chilling at home, Bal takes his prosthesis off. It's more comfortable for him, but sometimes he forgets he doesn't have it on. On days when it is just far too uncomfortable to wear it, he gets very easily frustrated trying to do things. Ambrosius is swamped by guilt.

Bal gets real bad phantom pains sometimes. It's like that itch deep in your ear or throat that you can never itch. On those days, he often ends up sobbing in bed, with Ambrosius rubbing his back. It's the only comfort he can offer.

Ambrosius is ever so slightly taller, but he is slightly leaner than Bal. Bal is ever so slightly shorter, but is more buff (in Ambrosius' words)

Ambrosius will often wrap his arms around Bal's waist, resting his chin on his shoulder when Bal is doing something. All he wants is to be near Bal and hold him close, and Bal will always let him.

When Bal gets sick, it's just another day, and he will deal with it. When Ambrosius gets sick, you'd think the world was ending.

Bal used to call Ambrosius Golden Boy as a silly nickname, but after their fight, Ambrosius can no longer stand being called that. The first time Bal did it, even as a silly, harmless joke, he turned to find Ambrosius on the verge of tears. It wasn't said again after that.

Ambrosius likes video games, but Bal doesn't. But he will play with Ambrosius if he asks.

Ambrosius suffers from panic attacks, and they can get pretty nasty.

He also suffers from really bad guilt, which in turn has deeply affected his mental health.

Bal is a really good singer, and often sings/hums to himself as he is doing things. More than once, Ambrosius has just sat and listened to him.

Ballister is so good with children. Ambrosius, not so much. If you hand him a baby, he'll just hold it out until someone (most usually Bal) comes and takes it from him. It's not that he doesn't like children; he's just scared of them.

They often share clothing, and Ambrosius can hardly deal with it when he sees Bal wearing one of his hoodies or t-shirts. It drives him insane (in a very good way), and more often than once, it's ended up with both their clothing on the floor.

They're both late 20s/early 30s. Ballister is slightly older, by just a couple of months.

Ballister likes to lay his head on Ambrosius' lap. Ambrosius will run his fingers through Bal's hair until Bal eventually (and always) dozes off.

Bal has trouble sleeping.

Ambrosius is an early bird, and Bal is a night owl.

Ambrosius would be the one to propose.

Bal loves museums.

Bal is weirdly good with animals, too. Like, they just flock to him. One time, an injured bird was found and brought to him, and he stayed up day and night to make sure it lived. It did, and often comes back to visit for treats, which Ballister is always happy to provide.

Ambrosius is more of a festival guy, whereas Bal much prefers a theatre trip.

Ballister was the one who kissed Ambrosius first. It was during a late-night sparring match back at the Institute.

Bal fell first, and Ambrosius fell harder.

Listen, I could go on for years about these two. But for now, I shall leave it here. I need more Nimona content in 2025. Give me a Goldenheart series pls and thx xoxoxox

[autisticlancemcclain]

fic rec friday 60

hello and welcome to fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

Dream, Seam by @ardett and @maychorian

Lance is the blue paladin. The Galra realize this before he does.

y'all....this au is insane. like genuinely one of the coolest concepts i have seen in this fandom. lance, taken by the galra as an infant and raised by them (altho they treat him like shit, obviously, so fair warning for that), as an asset, because they know he is the blue paladin, because he can See things he should not be able to see? and then he has to get integrated into voltron...yall nothing i can say can do this au justice. there's this almost ethereal feel to the entire fic, there were several moments where my chest was swoopy and my breathing was off bc i was like oh god oh god oh god. the complicated relationships, lance's struggle, and ALSO BONUS!!! das thace!!! i miss dad thace!!! do my fellow voltron geriatrics remember when dad thace was everywhere!! bc i do!! and i miss it!!!

2. five times someone didn't know keith and lance were dating, and one time everyone did by Shorty

Keith shrugs nonchalantly. “I’m still mad about the whole ‘babe’ thing.” ... Or, exactly what the title says.

there is nothing i can say about this fic that isn't in the title 💀 it's exactly what it says it is. and it hits. but some crumbs to intrigue you: 1) one of the tags on this fic is 'hunk is a hunk', 2) it's a 2016 fic, and 3) trust me.

3. Some Secrets Don't Need To Be Kept by @squirenonny

Keith finds out he's part Galra. It's not as big a deal as he expects.

look. sometimes i just want things to be soft. what if keith had it easy? for once in his fucking life? what if people chilled the hell out? for ten minutes? this is seven thousand words of people being like hey keith u know what. take it easy. we got u babes. and i am grateful

4. How to Fake an Interest in Biochemical Engineering by @squirenonny

Shiro has a crush on Matt Holt. But every time he runs into Matt he ends up embarrassing himself. Shiro's best friend Allura is no help. His little brother Keith is even worse. But Shiro is going to make his move before graduation if it kills him. (And it just might kill him.)

SHATT SHATT SHATT SHATT SHATT. shockingly, i didn't just choose this one bc of the recent discourse lol. this is another 2016 fic that i adore. it's just -- disaster shiro, whipped shiro, down bad shiro, sweet matt, cackling keith, shiro who is dying of embarrassment, gay as all fuck shiro, etc etc. it hits. i laughed.

5. Neighbors by starryeyedchar

Lance stood in front of him, but it was a Lance he'd never seen before. Granted, Keith didn't know him well by any means, but he was positive that the regular Lance would be leaning against the doorframe with a smirk, maybe a couple finger-guns. Not this. This Lance had wrapped himself in a blanket, and was still shivering slightly. His skin was much paler than usual, with flushed cheeks and sweat on his brow. He sniffled. “Um.” Or the one where Keith and Lance live in apartments next to each other, and Lance is too sick for Keith to just leave him by himself.

this one is just very dorky and sweet. i love any fic that captures the exact moment in keiths brain when he goes oh no oh shit oh fuck hes HAWT and lance looks like genuine actual shit actually. its so funny to me

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

[brawlite]

some horror fic recs for october 👻

i wanted to put together a rec list of my favorite horror fics for the spookiest month. there are a bunch of different flavors of horror in here as well as a number of different fandoms, so hopefully you can find something that tickles your fancy (though ngl i would still rec reading these bad boys even if you don't know the fandoms at all).

i tried to tag tumblrs when/where i could find them, but if i couldn't, the author name links to ao3.

a reminder as always: this is horror—please read all the tags.

thanks for reading and i hope you find something to enjoy!

also, pretty please feel free to reblog and add your favorite horror fic recs.

👻👁️🎃🔪👻👁️🎃🔪👻👁️🎃🔪👻👁️🎃🔪👻👁️🎃🔪👻👁️🎃🔪👻👁️🎃🔪

the ghost apple tree by @thefearofcod

10k words, rated m song lan/xue yang/xiao xingchen (the untamed/mdzs) summary:

Fixing up a decaying house in the woods is the same as addressing your problems. (sxx is haunted)

brawls' notes: i think about this fic a lot; i'm haunted by it. this is by far one of my favorite horror stories i've ever read—the vibes are off-the-charts and horrific in a very visceral, tense way. made me feel weird (positive). i hope it makes you feel weird too (this is a threat).

—

convergence by @astrophyllitely

33k words, rated e lan zhan/lan xichen, lan zhan/jiang cheng (the untamed/mdzs) summary:

Lan Wangji regains consciousness in a crashed spaceship on an unfamiliar planet. He is not alone; Lan Xichen is there. He is not alone; Jiang Wanyin is there. But never both at once.

brawls' notes: space horror? check. psychological horror? check. uneasy and tense alien vibes? also check. beautiful push and pull of the narrative, paired with an an intense feeling of claustrophobia. there's a particular moment that had my heart right in my throat. stunning.

—

mockingbird by MarInk

82k words, rated e stiles stillinski/peter hale (teen wolf) summary:

Stiles works tirelessly to keep the roof over his heads and longs for a proper challenge for his brains. Peter chafes under his sister's authority and nurses big, bloody dreams. One day, the two are connected by a mistaken text message. One never knows who is on the other end of a wrong number. Sometimes it's somebody one will come to cherish and adore. Sometimes it's a ruthless, unapologetic monster. Sometimes it's both.

brawls' notes: sometimes you read something and are just blown away by it, forever altered. that's what this was for me. want a type of monster-au you've never seen before? this is it. also: ostensibly a wrong-number au, but don't be fooled. (i was.)

—

never meant by nonhicsumus

3k words, rated m alex krycek & dana scully (the x-files) summary:

Sometimes the past isn't worth digging into.

brawls' notes: whump and psychological horror? plus alex krycek?? my favorite. every word of this is perfection—i instantly wanted to read it again for the first time. you can.

—

fais do-do by @moku-youbi

18k words, rated e will graham/hannibal lecter (hannibal)

summary:

“Nothing is so painful to the human mind as a great and sudden change.” ― Mary Shelley, Frankenstein (this fic does not have a summary, but begins with this quote)

brawls' notes: a different-meeting au packed with everything you need for the perfect horror story: violence, blood, a chase scene, and an unreliable narrator. delightful.

—

blackbird, fly by @acroamatica

19k words, rated m kylo ren/armitage hux (star wars: tfa)

summary:

One sunny afternoon in the mountains of Washington state, Ben Organa-Solo walked out into the woods. He never came home. Six years later, a journalist specialising in missing-persons cold cases decides to follow his footsteps and see where they might lead.

brawls' notes: a masterpiece of vibes. this reads so much like a spooky mystery novel, but with a creeping, anxious dread. perfect for the season if you want that true autumnal sort of chill. i've carried this fic in my heart for nearly a decade now—it has inspired me in my own writing so much over the years.

—

grey stars on the rise by @iodhadh

4k words, rated e song lan/xue yang/xiao xingchen (the untamed/mdzs) summary:

Xiao Xingchen comes back. Xiao Xingchen comes back wrong. It takes too long, maybe, for Xue Yang to realize something is wrong with Song Lan too.

brawls' notes: the exact embodiment of: be careful what you wish for. brutal and crushing and so deeply, utterly satisfying. absolute yi-city perfection: the vibes are wretched but strangely romantic (chefs kiss).

—

half your life you've been hooked on death by @whatever-you-can-give-me

4k words, rated m vash the stampede/nicholas d. wolfwood (trigun) summary:

Wolfwood is cornered in an alleyway. Things get worse before they get better.

brawls' notes: and what's a horror rec list without a little bit of gore? whump and blood and near-death-experiences—oh my. this is brutal and feverish and exactly the right flavor.

—

black rock mountain by @bokuno-jinsei

24k words, rated e will graham/hannibal lecter (hannibal) summary:

Will is a hitchhiker with questionable hobbies. Hannibal is a man who has questionable motives. When Hannibal drives by Will who just so happens to need a ride, things quickly take a turn from the questionable to the downright depraved.

brawls' notes: you know That Fic that is really the epitome of that pairing for you? yeah, this is it for me. perfect alternate first-meeting fic. lives rent-free in my head.

👻👁️🎃🔪👻👁️🎃🔪👻👁️🎃🔪👻👁️🎃🔪👻👁️🎃🔪👻👁️🎃🔪👻👁️🎃🔪

and hey, why not be a little self-indulgent: i can't help but rec a few of my own horror fics here, too:

old growth

21k, rated m song lan/xue yang/xiao xingchen (the untamed/mdzs) summary:

There’s something in the woods outside of their hometown. Xue Yang and Song Lan are going to find it.

brawls' notes: i tried something new with the formatting on this one and i think it panned out solidly and was a desperately fun way to tell the story. this is full of spooky, sleepless forest vibes.

—

what's real or isn't

57k, rated e kylo ren/armitage hux (star wars: tfa) summary:

Hux's new house is not haunted. It isn't.

brawls' notes: i honestly love playing favorites and this is one of mine. this was a load of fun to write—it's chock-full of vibes, personal experiences, local history, and love notes to my favorite horror stories.

—

acquiesce

16k, rated e original luo binghe/original shen qingqiu (svsss) summary:

After seeing the gentle and loving Shen Qingqiu of the other world, Luo Binghe returns to his own with a hunger that can only be satisfied by one thing—a Shizun of his very own.

brawls' notes: this isn't spooky or haunted, but it is psychological horror—packed with nightmares, flashbacks, dread, and manipulation. enjoy!

👻👁️🎃🔪👻👁️🎃🔪👻👁️🎃🔪👻👁️🎃🔪👻👁️🎃🔪👻👁️🎃🔪👻👁️🎃🔪

and that's it! hope you find something fun to read for this october 🖤

and again—please reblog and add your own horror recs if you are feeling so inclined!

[cute-little-fly]

I find funny that you know you are a starting to be a veteran in this fandom when you have seen more than one iteration of the same arguments and discussions about Stolitz.

You start caring each time less about it but also, in great part, because how tired and annoyed you are of having the exact same discussions over and over. We could be having so many interesting analysis and discussions about it. But they are circling over and over the same things.

At some point they should know when to stop, they won’t make us dislike the show and they will just keep agreeing with other haters. Of course, I know they won’t stop. After years of cycling the same things it’s more clear than water.

They are just angry that the show they despise and dislike that hard is popular. I think this is it. They think we should not like it and that is so entitled… Why you dare tell people what to like and what not?

I can even stand people thinking: I don’t get how can they like it. Because well, okay, you have a different mindset and for you is hard to understand the appeal and that’s it. I’m okay with that. But the moment they think this should not be successful is when I put a STOP.

I think that at the beginning people didn’t had much issue with Hazbin because it was less popular. People can stand these things if they don’t get mass appeal.

Video games like Undertale suffered the same phenomenon. People were okay with it when it wasn’t popular, but when a lot of people like it and ends up being popular they say: okay this is nice and all, but this video game doesn’t deserve much praising and popularity because it is technically so bad and the programming is trash etc etc… and like, most players don’t gaf about those things because we aren’t game critics or game experts. We liked the characters, the experience and we got emotional about it and other similar games don’t offer what this offers. That’s it.

I feel the same about the hellaverse. Even with all its flaws, I have been captivated by these world and characters. This offers what other adult animated shows don’t (if you count only those made in North America, because I would say anime and manga has a lot of different stuff). That’s it.

I can think in some many movies that aren’t really that good plot wise but are beloved classics for what they represent for a group of people or a generation. We… sometimes are like that, and I find funny that a lot of the people that complain about the hellaverse is not like they enjoy high artistic quality or super niche series or movies.

They also watch other similar stuff that is silly too, or doesn’t have this immense writing or artistic depth, and just because is more edgy or dark themed they don’t see an issue with that existing. But the hellaverse existing and being liked? A crime just because it dares to have some gray morality around the plot and characters.

They wouldn’t survive real controversial niche movies and cinema. They are worse sometimes in all of what they complain about the hellaverse.

As long as the Hellaverse is popular and get good things they will be mad… and that is so annoying if you just want to chill and enjoy it in peace as how the show was created and intended.

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

you once said that the ZK do not allow the canonical Zuko to show real, sometimes ugly signs of trauma. can you write more about this? because that's what I always felt when I came across their terrible takes, but I couldn't express it.

Gladly! But first, I need to mention the sign of trauma that Zuko usually lacks - and that, for some reason, the fandom insists defines his character:

Fear

Don't get wrong, I'm not saying Zuko never experienced fear. We all saw that poor boy on his knees, crying, begging his father not to hurt him.

But in "Zuko Alone" we also see 10-year-old Zuko get bitter that only his younger sister was expected to show off her firebending skills, and deciding that he would go against his father and demonstrate his own skills to the Fire Lord - that despite the fact that he knew Azula was better at it than he was. Even when it goes wrong, he is upset, but doesn't look afraid of the consequences.

That same episode shows Azula mocking him for playing with knives despite not even being good at it, and even though the fandom insists she was his worst fear ever since he was a child, Zuko responds with a "Put an apple on your head and we'll see how good I am." That little guy has exactly zero chill.

Let's not forget why he was banished either: Despite being considered too young to be in that war meeting, Zuko demanded to be there, eventually got his way, and despite having been told not to say anything, the second he hears a general suggest using their own men as "fresh meat" to lure the enemy, Zuko speaks out against it. And at the start of the Agni Kai, he looked 100% ready to fight a grown ass man with battle experience - until he saw it was his father/Fire Lord.

Let's not forget his Agni Kai with Zhao, which was his idea and that he actually won - and before that, he openly calls Ozai a fool, to which Zhao points out that banishment clearly not teach Zuko to watch his mouth. Or the time he openly challenged Azula in Ba Sing Se and they only didn't fight then and there because Azula knew she'd have the advantage by using the Dai Li. Hell, at the start of that very season, after she tried to lure him to a trap, Zuko's first reaction is to charge at her, fire-daggers in hand. That boy is the definition of "Fuck around and find out."

He has also done things like choosing to save his uncle from earthbenders instead of chasing Aang, crossing a blockade and going into actual Fire Nation territory even though he legally is no longer allowed to do that, and helped rescue Aang from Zhao as the Blue Spirit. It shows us that Zuko doesn't have an issue with temporarely deviating from his mission because of something HE deems important even though his father doesn't, openly disregarding Ozai's orders, and even basically saying "My father will have the Avatar as a prisoner only if I'm the one to capture him"

And, of course, on the day of the eclipse, Zuko grabs his swords and directly threatens Ozai, telling that bastard to sit the fuck down, shut up, and listen to his list of reasons why he sucks as a parent, ruler and person.

Zuko is brave. Unbelievably so. He is fierce, proud, and impulsive to the point of getting himself in situations that he should have known would not go his way (like fighting a waterbender in the snow, in the full moon) because he is very much a "act first, think later" kind of guy. So the fandom's insistence that he is constantly paralyzed by fear is a gross over-simplification of how his trauma affects him.

We only see him genuinely afraid of Ozai twice. During the Agni Kai itself, and then again when he WANTS to speak out against his father's plan to burn the Earth Kingdom to the ground, but can't bring himself to because he remembers what happened last time he spoke out against that kind of horrible thing during a war meeting, at that very room. It took something THAT triggering to make him cower before a challenge.

However, fear wasn't the only reason why didn't speak out during that moment, and that takes us to the first "ugly" sign of trauma that the fandom as a whole likes to pretend Zuko wasn't repeatedly shown to experience:

"My father is right about me, actually"

Zuko doesn't think Ozai was wrong to disfigure and banish him. How could he? Nobody in that entire room stood up to at least try to support him, not even his uncle - who also once said "Why would your father have banished you if he didn't care about you?" because, surprise surprise, nobody in that family knows how to help someone through trauma because they're all dealing with their own shit. Even his crew, who WAS sympathetic to him after finding out how he got that scar, were still 100% willing to not only support Ozai, but risk their lives for him.

Zuko isn't just trying to heal from abuse, he is trying to heal from victim-blaming, and to go against YEARS of indoctrination that say the Fire Lord can do no wrong. That's part of why it was so difficult for Iroh and others to help him: Zuko didn't believe that he needed or deserved help.

And that is also one of his three major unhealthy coping mechanisms. Claiming that HE needs to prove himself to Ozai, that HE needs to make up for HIS mistakes, not the other way around.

It might seem strange that this could be a way to cope, but look at it this way: If it WAS his fault instead of Ozai's, then that means his dad is not an unfair, abusive piece of shit that is unbelievably cruel and impossible to please. Zuko just needs to accomplish this mission of capturing the Avatar and everything will be fine, they'll be a normal family again, and he won't have to be afraid of someone he thought he could trust.

It was like Iroh said: Things are never going to be the same ever agin, but the Avatar gives Zuko HOPE. And that hope that his abuser will one day have a change of heart and be a loving father to him again is both what allows Zuko not to give into despair - and what keeps him trapped in that awful situation.

Misplaced Anger

Another "unpleasant" sign of trauma that Zuko has is how he clearly has an anger problem. Sure, he's a moody teenager with a short fuse, but we see over and over again that he tends to blow things way out of proportion, and that when faced a fact or opinion he doesn't like, he is quick to lash out at someone with VERY cruel words (see him calling Iroh a lazy, shallow, jealous old man in "Avatar State", or calling him crazy and saying if he wasn't in prison, he'd be sleeping in a gutter in "The Headband").

Through the entire show, many people faced Zuko's wrath - Iroh, Aang and friends, his crew, Azula, innocent people of the Earth Kingdom, Mai, Ty Lee, that one rando that talked to Mai, and even Zuko himself.

The one person that usually escapes said wrath is, ironically, Ozai. In "Zuko Alone" he refuses to believe his father would ever be capable of harming him, in "Avatar State" he snaps at Iroh for doubting that Ozai really changed his mind about the whole banishment thing.

He is mad at Aang for being too difficult to capture, and at Zhao for stealing his one chance to come home. He never stops to question if it's fair that his father had him chase someone that was presumed dead, aka an impossible task, as the condition to bring him home. He also never addresses how he feels about the reason WHY said banishment happened until the Day Of Black Sun.

He is mad at Azula for lying to him and trying to take him home as a prisoner. He never gets mad at his father for not only wanting to lock him away forever because ZHAO screwed up at the North Pole, nor how messed up it was that he put Azula in charge of said mission.

For fuck's sake, in the day of the eclipse, we find out that Zuko legit believed his mother was DEAD - and the entire circumstance was shady as hell and put Ozai in a very bad light. Yet Zuko still wanted his love, still wanted to be a "worthy" son.

He HAS to direct his anger at other people, otherwise he'll realize that no, his father, the adult that was meant to care for him, is a complete monster.

Everytime Zuko lashes out at other people before confronting Ozai, he's basically acting like someone who is drowning and, in a panic, is trying to pull the nearest person under so he can try to breathe. It is one of the most accurate and honest representations of trauma and abuse, and it makes me SO mad when people erase it in their fics because "poor, innocent, helpless turtleduck that can do no wrong" makes Zuko look like less of a dick - and also completely strips him of his agency.

And that isn't even the thing that fans ignore the most. That "honor" goes to the simple fact that Zuko, as expected of a child raised to believe the Fire Lord can do no wrong, decided that Azula had the right idea and that the best way to avoid being a victim again was...

Copying His Abuser

Zuko has REPEATEDLY let his "inner Ozai" out through the show.

He is all manipulative by not letting the pirates know he was chasing the Avatar who was worth A LOT more than the scrowl they'd get as a reward for helping him, and by using Katara's necklace as a way to try and get her to say where Aang was.

He repeatedly steals stuff from innocent people (including some who helped him, like Song) because, in his own words "These people should just be giving stuff to us" - aka he's very much an entitled prince.

He betrays his uncle by joining Azula in Ba Sing Se, leading to Iroh being thrown in prison. He also doesn't give a shit when Katara says "I thought you had changed!" and he sends a freaking assassin after the Gaang. Even him refusing to tell Azula that there was a chance Aang could still be alive works both as a "Zuko doesn't trust Azula to not use that against him, and for good reason" and "Zuko did not even stop to think that, since Azula was the one who killed Aang, him coming back also puts HER in danger, because he's too focused on his own problems to notice anybody else's."

More importantly, he rejected a chance of a ceasefire with the Gaang three times (The Blue Spirit, The Chase, Crossroads of Destiny), much like Ozai refused his shot at ending the war in the finale before his battle with Aang, and not only did he challenge Zhao to an Agni Kai and seriously consider burning him, he also threatened one of his crewmen by saying he'd "teach him respect" - which we found out later that episode was what Ozai right before disfiguring poor Zuko.

For fuck's sake, Ozai was literally designed to look like an older Zuko. One without a scar, one that was never banished, one that never had to see first-hand all the death and suffering war brings and reflect on the role he plays in it.

Finally, we have the war meetings in "Nightmares And Daydreams", in which Zuko doesn't speak out against his father's completely inhumane plans to deal with the Earth Kingdom. When talking about it with Mai, he says "I was the perfect prince, the son my father wanted. But I wasn't me."

That is the turning point for Zuko for a reason. It's him finally being forced to acknowledge that, to become Ozai's ideal son, to earn his (conditional) love, to not be his victim he has to be just as bad as he is, just as cruel, just as unfair - and we see in Azula's breakdown how Zuko likely would have ended up if he accepted that path.

But he didn't, and that was not easy because even though it was the morally correct choice, it'd require him to sacrifice everything - his title as a prince, his right to be in the Fire Nation, his relationship with Mai, his (extremelly complicated, sometimes good, often awful) bond with Azula, the "easy" way to get literally anything he wanted at everyone else's expense, and, of course, accept that his father was never going to love him, was never going to change, and was never going to feel sorry for abusing him.

Erasing such a central conflict of his character for the sake of denying he ever did anything wrong is, ironically, removing one of Zuko's most noble character traits: his inability to just live with himself after doing something horrible. There's a reason he is in deep conflict even after getting everything he wanted after the fall of Ba Sing Se - he knows he doesn't deserve it after what he's done.

If you ignore his mistakes and the horrible consequences it had for other people, you also ignore Zuko's growth. This puts him more in the position of a good guy being held hostage by the evil villain, not of a troubled child that redeems himself as he matures.

No flaws, no mistakes, no growth, no arc.

Trauma Doesn't Just Go Away

This one is, by far, the bad trope regarding Zuko's trauma that Zutarians are the most guilt of: assuming that if he just gets enough comforting hugs (mainly from Katara), all of his inner turmoil will suddenly be healed. No more sadness, no more fear, no more of the ugly traits they never acknowledge in the first place. Just a happy, fully recovered Zuko.

But that's just not how these things work. Having the support of a loved one helps victims feel better, but it won't magically make everything okay. Trauma is a really difficult thing to handle. There's good days, bad days, relapses, bad habits that are difficult to move past from. And not only are there cases in which people take YEARS to recover, there are also cases in which they never fully heal, and instead just learn to live with that burden that is still very much present.

I understand the desire to show in fics and headcanons that Zuko will eventually be fully healed and happy, but the way Zutarians make Katara act as not just his girlfriend, but as basically his therapist that needs to find miracle solutions for every single one of his problems, comfort him whenever any minor inconvenience happens until he's gotten enough hugs to be magically okay doesn't just reveal how hypocritical they are, since they insist Kataang is about Katara being Aang's girlfriend/mom/baby-sitter, but also that they legit do not understand a damn thing about trauma and how it works.

Which takes me to:

How Mai Actually Did Right By Zuko

Poor, poor Mai. She gets blamed for "bring out the worst in Zuko", for not being "supportive", for being too cold and unemotional, for not "seeing the real him" - yet she's one of the characters that CONSISTENLY help put Zuko back on his track.

She offers him emotional support and lots of signs of affection over and over again - telling him not worry when they're arriving at the Fire Nation, pointing out she doesn't hate him when she says she's beautiful when she hates the world, explicitly saying she cares about him in The Beach, being incredibly sweet and loving to him during all of Nightmares and Daydreams, and then again in the finale by helping him get dressed up and acting all cute as they get back together.

But she also holds him accountable when he screws up. She doesn't let him use his difficult life as an excuse to be a jerk and calls him out when he's being unreasonable, or when she feels mistreated/like he's making a mistake (see The Beach and Boiling Rock Part 2).

But since the fandom loves to completely erase Zuko's mistakes AND to not let go of a stupid ship war, this completely changes the context, making Mai out to be this awful, bitchy girlfriend, when in reality, she did a great job handling Zuko - sometimes even better than the fan favorite and mentor figure Zuko had through most of his arc.

Uncle Iroh Fucked Up

Before all of you try to kill me, let me make one thing clear here: I love Uncle Iroh. He is one of the most awesome characters in the show, and I fully believe he was trying his best to help Zuko.

But he is still a human being that makes mistakes, and he was raised in the same dysfunctional family Zuko was, meaning he often had NO IDEA how to handle his deeply traumatized teenage nephew/son.

Him spending all of book 1 trying to help Zuko capture Aang so he could go back to living with the guy that disfigured him is already bad enough, but we also have the episode "Avatar State" in which Iroh asks "Why would your father banish you if he didn't care about you?"

Obviously he only did these things because he didn't want Zuko give into despair and depression - but he is still, at best, ignoring the issue, and at worst actively making excuses for Ozai's abuse of his own son. This backfires on him spectacularly, as Zuko sides with Azula over him both in the first and last episode of the season specifically because he believes that appeasing Ozai is the right thing to do, as he was only banished "for his own good."

But THE biggest mistake Iroh made when it came to helping Zuko was his refusal to accept that no, Zuko was never going to be happy by living a quiet, simple life in Ba Sing Se - even after Zuko explicitly said as much to his face.

Obviously, to some extent, Iroh HAS to make Zuko accept that he won't ever be able to come back home after Ozai literally ordered Azula to capture him, but he could have tried to find some kind of middle ground with Zuko, since being a waiter clearly wasn't making him happy.

"Oh, but what about how Zuko started acting after his metamorphosis? He was so happy about working on the tea-shop with his uncle, and that was supposed to reveal his true self!"

Yes, it was supposed to do that. But we saw how Zuko acted after actually dealing with his trauma and redeeming himself. He was obviously in a much healthier place, both mentally and spiritually, but he was still moody, still sarcastic, still as proud as ever, and even Iroh recognized that he was meant to be Fire Lord.

Zuko's arc has a lot to do with identity, with how he sees himself. At that point, the only thing he still had in life was his uncle - so he was acting like him, because there seemed to be no other role model, no other path. Seeing that weird, cheery, relaxed, always-seeing-the-good-side-of-things version of Zuko was honestly unnerving.

And Iroh thought that Zuko basically giving himself the Lake Laogai treatment was okay because he following in his footsteps, doing what helped IROH heal and change - he didn't realize it was never gonna be able to do the same for Zuko.

The very second Azula shows up, even when she's being hostile, Zuko drops the facade, because she's a reminder of both his old life and what he thought his future would be. And when she offers him "redemption" Iroh tried to advice Zuko against joining her by saying "The redemption she offers is not for you" (as in not for someone who is doing better and doesn't need to return to the Fire Nation) and "It's time for you to choose. It's time for you to choose good." How is it a choice if Iroh is explicitly saying which option Zuko cannot pick, essentially making the decision for him?

Iroh didn't just get the way to help Zuko wrong - he didn't realize his nephew didn't believe he needed help. They were not on the same page at all, and that contribuited to Zuko betraying him.

Though, thankfully, it ended up being for the best, as Zuko found his own way to redemption by himself.

Conclusion

This fandom as a whole tends to not understand Zuko at all and just eat up a bunch of fanon while pretending to be so intellectual, which I very much resent it for.

[thoughtsaboutshows]

My Fanfic Masterlist!

all fics are on AO3, the names are links!

I have fics for the Empyrean and Chilling Adventures of Sabrina fandoms

Empyrean/Fourth Wing Fics:

List of all my fics below the cut!

Let's Play Pretend: WIP, Explicit, Xaden/Violet Fake Dating AU,

When Bodhi and Ridoc plan their elaborate wedding down in Mexico and inform Violet that her ex is coming, she comes up with a fake boyfriend to avoid dealing with it all. But instead she finds herself in an even bigger mess when she accidentally tells them that she's dating Xaden Riorson, the bane of her existence and someone she has claimed to hate for years. When he accepts her request to play along she's shocked, but he has reasons of his own to go along with the lie. As the week goes on the line between love and hate gets blurred and Violet can't help but forget the reasons she hated him in the first place. And memories of a night from years ago slip back into her mind and remind her of time she didn't hate him...not at all.

Captive's Call: The Curse of the Onyx Storm: WIP, Explicit, Xaden/Violet Pirate AU. Co-authoring with @saranova

Seeking to escape her arranged marriage, Violet Sorrengail finds herself adrift upon the Emerald Seas and within the grasp of disgraced duke-turned-Pirate, Captain Xaden Riorson. And the Captain is always in control, always has a plan, and will do whatever it takes to break the curse that plagues him and his crew ... that is, until he meets a certain Admiral's daughter.

Missed You: WIP, Mature, Xaden/Violet

Missed You: Or little tumblr drabbles/ficlets from an ask about non-sexual intimacy

Because the empyrean crew deserves ALL the soft moments

Not A Victory March: Not Rated, Complete (for now), Xaden/Violet

The immediate aftermath of OS Chapter 66. No one's claiming victory here. Spoilers for Onyx Storm

It's Takeout, Your Honor: Complete, Teen and Up Rating, Xaden/Violet

What happens when you know your partner so you can sense when they’re sad? And what if you have the same idea?

If the Fates Allow, A Solstice Anthology: Complete, Explicit, Xaden/Violet, my gift for another member for the RQ Discord Solstice Exchange

What if battles and wars weren't the only thing archived? Over the years Xaden and Violet recorded what they were doing on Solstice to remember any bright times in the midst of chaos. Originally redacted from the historical text due to be considered "filler" and "unnecessary to include," Jesenia collected them to be its own anthology.

Or, a collection of missing and future scenes with our favorite shadow daddy and lightning wielder as they experience the Solstice.

Say You Won't Let Go: Complete, Mature, Xaden/Violet

Violet hates goodbyes. Especially when she’d rather stay locked in Xaden’s room. And in his bed.

A missing scene in Iron Flame. It sorta kinda works in the timeline so we’re just gonna throw in there as happening sometime after Vi finds out about Xaden’s second signet but before they go back to Basgiath.

I'm Gonna Be: Complete, Mature, Imogen/Garrick

Long distance relationships suck. Especially when Imogen is stationed on one end of the country and her friends are on the other. But it’s Garrick she misses the most.

all that you rely on, and all that you can save: Complete, Explicit, Xaden/Violet

In the late hours of the night Violet studies. She now studies old tomes and history books from Poromiel, anything she can get her hands on really to help save him. She studies alone because there are few they can trust to share his secret. But when Xaden comes home from a week long patrol to find her huddled over a desk in the Archives, he thinks of far better uses for it.

Forgive Me?: Complete, Mature, Xaden/Violet

Xaden's and Violet's stress levels are high, leading to more arguments than they'd like. But what if Violet tries to take a risk that Xaden thinks is too far? How will she win this argument? Or bring him to his knees?

Or the time Violet has a trick up her sleeve to get Xaden to let go of the argument.

Spoilers for IF and FW. Takes place after the end of IF.

Chilling Adventures of Sabrina Fics:

Thicker Than Water: WIP/Sort of Abandoned, Mature, Nick/Sabrina

Nick had been Summering in Greendale, NC his whole life. Their big white house on the beach stood as a staple in the Scratch family for generations, a pillar of the family dynasty. A dynasty he wanted no part of, but was forced to take over come September. After avoiding the responsibility for as long as he could, Nick decided to give himself one last Summer in the place that had formed him, memoires both good and bad. But this time he would do it his way, away from the big white house. He had planned for quiet, for solitude, his favorite way to write. But that was before he realized that Sabrina Spellman was back too.

Sabrina Spellman was the mystery he could never figure out. Sabrina Spellman, who ran the Mortuary Grill and whose hair was as white as the sand and smile as bright as the sun. Sabrina Spellman, who didn’t hate the summer vacationers as much as her local peers did. Sabrina Spellman, whose lips tasted like tequila when they brushed his 10 years ago.

Nick wasn’t so certain he’d have a solitary summer anymore, not when the mystery was about to be solved.

Right Where You Left Me: Complete, Mature, Nick/Sabrina

It's the first Solstice after Sabrina was risen from the dead. The first Solstice without Nick. In the midst of her tears and sorrow she accidentally conjures him, which leads to a tradition they do year after year. Every Solstice, for 24 hours, Sabrina can call upon her love Nicholas Scratch and they can be together. Only on this one day a year can they touch each other, and they make it count. In classic Nick and Sabrina fashion each year isn't perfect but it doesn't matter what happens, they'll always love each other.

For Fluffs Sake, Angst-hole: , Complete, Not-Rated, Nick/Sabrina

This is a collection of short writings/scenes from an ask I did on Tumblr for Nabrina!

It used to be all fluff, but now there's some agnsty ones in there too!

Moment to Moment: Complete, Not Rated, Nick/Sabrina

Just a few moments in the future, when Nick and Sabrina got everything they'd ever wanted.

Behind the Curtain: Complete, Not rated, Nick/Sabrina

The stuff we didn't see. What went on between what we got. Because there is so much more Nabrina to dive into.

White Christmas: Complete, Not Rated, Nick/Sabrina

Sabrina has always loved Christmas and has dreamed of the holidays in Greendale ever since she left five years ago. She didn't know what drew her back this year, but felt like it was time. Little did she know the reason she'd left was back too and completely unavoidable. Nicholas Scratch had once considered Sabrina Spellman the love of his life. And this Christmas he'd be reminded of what he always knew, that dreams took many forms: bookstores, and big cities, and even starlight blondes who he'd loved for half of his life.

Christmas in Greendale: Complete, Not rated, Nick/Sabrina

Daily drabbles from tumblr's Nabrina Winterfest

Illicit Affairs: Complete, Mature, Nick/Sabrina

She had never really meant for it to start. It wasn’t like her, the secret meetings, hushed whispers, and built up lies. But there was something about all of it that dragged her under the current and swept her up that she couldn’t deny or ignore. It was never her intention to start an affair with Nicholas Scratch. Though it was somewhat of an inevitability. From the minute they met, a line in the sand was drawn and they spent the better part of two years trying not to come closer to it. But the magnetic pull between them was undeniable, and soon the line in the sand was just as messed up as their sheets.

She hadn’t planned it, and the second she let her guard down they’d both fallen into a hole they couldn't quite climb out of. She’d been sleeping with Nick for months and talked to him about more things than she never dared to with Harvey.

Harvey.

The high school sweetheart she couldn’t let go. Or rather she couldn’t admit the relationship was failing, because she wasn’t a quitter. But she couldn’t seem to quit Nick either.

A Thousand Words, But You're Worth More: Complete, Not Rated, Nick/Sabrina

Sabrina has been stressed. And her lovely warlock boyfriend has taken notice, and decided she needed a night out. So Nick planned the perfect romantic date, with a little help, and doesn't tell her a thing about it.

Or, a one-shot based on a "Sweaters" prompt

Or, a missing scene/my take on when Nick and Sabrina took that picture

Take a Breath, I'm Still Here: Complete, Mature, Nick/Sabrina, Ambrose/Prudence

In the days after the Void nearly ripped Sabrina from her family, they decide to celebrate a late Yule. Nick and Sabrina can't stop touching each other and Prudence and Ambrose finally talk.

Born to Love You: Complete, Not Rated, Nick/Sabrina

***This is a follow up to my one shot Marry Me. If you haven't read that go read it first!!***

So Sabrina left Harvey at the altar for Nick. What now? Tune in for snapshots into Nick and Sabrina's life now that they've admitted their true feelings. What happened after Sabrina left Harvey and ran to Nick? Did they live happily ever after?

This will be a collection of snapshots of this version of Nick and Sabrina. I don't know how often it will be updated, but we will get a look into their life together.

I enjoy writing my fics based on songs, so if a particular song screams this Nick and Sabrina to you please message me on tumblr or comment below and maybe I'll write a scene based on it!

Marry Me: Complete, Not Rated, Nick/Sabrina, inspired by the song: Marry Me

“No, No, No.” Nick said as he shook his head at Prudence. “Sabrina is my best friend. That’s it.”

“Sure.” Prudence shrugged her shoulders.

When she explained to her brother that they were likely more she had said it as a statement, not an invitation to have a conversation about it. She was entirely annoyed by the Spellman girl, and had found it odd and irritating that she and her brother had been attached at the hip from a young age.

“Besides she’s marrying Kinkle, Prudence.” Nick explained more to himself than to Prudence. His eyes were wild and looking around the room, searching for something to land on. “Not me.”

“Do you want her to?” Prudence asked as she leaned forward. Nick paused, unsure how to answer that question. Nick had been in love with Sabrina Spellman for most of his life. But she was happy with Harvey Kinkle. Prudence rolled her eyes and stood up sighing, and placed a hand on Nick’s shoulder. She was rarely affectionate and this was as comforting as she got. “You may want to figure that out.”

Cruel Summer: Complete, Mature, Nick/Sabrina

A mix between AU and Cannon, where the young members of the Church of Night also attend Baxter High. The young witches and warlocks then go to the Unseen Arts Summer Camp to bolster their gifts. Sabrina, having signed her name in the Book of the Beast is to attend for the first time.

Set between two timelines- the present and the summer, Sabrina attends camp for the first time and grows closer to Nick only for them to be torn apart as school starts.

Burning House: Complete, Not Rated, Nick/Sabrina

Sabrina hasn't seen him in months but she still sees him everywhere. Nick sees her every night in his dreams. They both know what they want, but won't let the other have it. Not yet. Not when Nick will hardly talk to her and Sabrina used well...THAT candle...

Crash Into Me: Complete, Not Rated, Nick/Sabrina

Set after Part 3 and some time after Nick and Sabrina's breakup. Just a little one-shot of a mission they get sent on by Zelda. Tough conversations and some tears...and one bed

i run to you: Complete, Not Rated, Nick/Sabrina

Nick and Sabrina love two things. Research and each other. But their research often takes them to far away places, and far away from the person they love most.

[cadybear420]

Seasons of Life- A Poem for Evie

Cover photo from dreamstime.com stock photos

Fandom: High School Story (Original Trilogy)

Pairings: N/A

Characters: Evie Ayana (female HSS MC)

Rating: G

Warnings: N/A

Additional Tags: Poetry, Free-Verse Poem

Word Count: 672

Summary: A poem dedicated to the biggest change in Evie's life and what it sets off for her.

A/N: This is my first poem. It was inspired by this lovely piece that was made for me by @gmsrrn98. Using season-themed metaphors for Evie was so perfect that I ended up writing this.

@choicesficwriterscreations | @lover-also-fighter-also

Tagging for events:

@hss-appreciation-events Day 1: Meet our MCs/OCs + Day 2: Fresh Starts and Growth

@choicesjanuary2025 | @loreofyore New School + New Town/City

@choicesmcappreciationweek | @rosesnink Day 1: Straight A Students

Summer was gone. And with it, so was the familiar warmth of her old home, her old friends, her old school.

All the beautiful, colorful leaves that surrounded her, that she was familiar with, that had grown onto her…. now all gone. All stripped from her by the harsh, swirling winds. Leaving her empty, lifeless, lost, alone. Yet she had also shedded many pieces of herself that were now old and dying, leaving her bare and seemingly lifeless and empty… but ready to grow again. Soon enough, she would bloom with new blossoms, but still maintaining who she was at her core, all the way down to her roots.

Ripped from her home, ripped from her stability… ripped from her roots, her tree, the very place from where she was grown. Swept away by the cold, harsh winds and jostled about to a strange new elsewhere. Yet she was also freed from a restrictive life, freed from being bound down to one single place on the tree, and swept away to a life possibly more exciting.

The calm, earthy greens of her old school had faded into brilliant juicy reds, crisp golden yellows, bold tiger oranges. The greens were more familiar, more grounding… but admittedly, they could get boring after a while. The reds and yellows and oranges almost seemed more dry, more somber, like the colors of the sunset… but they were also exciting, invigorating, and most of all, a refreshing change of pace.

The change is so unusual, so chilling, so jarring, so terrifying. But this new stage of life is necessary. And as she leaves behind this previous stage, Autumn simply greets her. It is kind to her. It welcomes her. Tells her “Hey, you must be new! I love your look!”, and then captures a yearbook photo of her standing in front of the majestic mascot statue of her new school. Cementing that perhaps she does have a place in this new world.

She steps into the harsh cold and the welcoming warm simultaneously, just as she did on the day of her birth. It was always cold at first. But soon, Spring would arrive, and she would bloom with new branches, new blossoms, new loves. All more bold and vibrant than ever before. And oh, how she wants to hold onto them forever.

But she couldn't hold onto it all forever. Some of it, maybe, but not all of it.

Summer was free, it was fun, it was bright. But sometimes it would scorch her. And thus the crisp and cooling Autumn would be all the more welcomed.

But the cold bitterness of Autumn and Winter were not gone. They would never be truly gone. They would return soon enough. She would go through it all again. It wouldn’t be the same as the last, but she would still find herself shedding older, dying pieces, to make way for new growth. She would still find herself ripped from her comfort zone, and expanding her boundaries. Again and again.

This wasn't necessarily new, this was how it has always been. It was just somewhat different each time. Some Winters would be more freezing than others. Some Summers would be more burning than others.

No matter how many times she's done this, it would still be difficult for her to get used to. Even when the world wasn't being as harsh towards her, kinder towards her... there were going to be moments where it would be painful– moments where it would be scalding, moments where it would be bitter, moments where it would be just plain exhausting.

But she would learn how to cool herself off. She would learn how to warm herself up. She would learn how to manage the unkind weathers. Sometimes with more difficulty, sometimes with more ease.

No season was perfect. No season was “better” or “worse” than the rest. But Evie would make the best of each one however she could.

This is life. And Evie would make the best of all of hers.

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Closing the Distance

Sheriff Hassan x Reader

Author's Note: I'm sorry its bad. I'm sorry this is the first I've written in this fandom. Just sorry all 'round.

Summary: Devastating news brings Sheriff Hassan and his neighbor closer together.

Warnings: Mentions of terminal illness, grief and death, brief mentions of SMUT

Crockett is small. Small enough for someone to walk from one end to the next in less than a day, small everyone to know each other by name, small enough for gossip to spread faster wildfire. It's part of why Hassan keeps his head down and his nose out of everyone’s business; small towns are close knit, they stick together, and he's already an outcast. So unless someone is explicitly breaking the law or being a public nuisance, Hassan keeps his distance. 

Even if it's hard sometimes. Even if his cute neighbor brings over dinner for him and Ali when she cooks extra or waves at him when he's getting into his car in the morning while she's having coffee on the porch. Even if he does find himself wanting to prolong their conversation when he bumps into her while picking up groceries. Hassan keeps his distance, because even if Y/n has only lived on the island for a year longer than he has, she is not an outcast.

From the bits and pieces he's been able to pick up, Y/n’s mother grew up there and then their family spent most of her summers as a child on the island. In the same quaint house across the street from his, with weather beaten porch steps, a white French door guarded by thin yellow curtains and a kitchen window that faces the street. She moved there just after her grandmother passed and her grandfather fell ill. Everyone knows her, everyone likes her, not that he can blame them – even Bev likes her, though he doubts the feeling is mutual. And that's why Hassan keeps his distance; even Y/n isn't one of them, she's one of theirs. 

So he keeps his distance.

Until he gets home from work one Friday evening just in time to see Y/n walking Sarah to her car. Before she gets in, they spend another couple minutes talking and while he doesn't want to sit in his car and stare, there's something about the dimness in her expression and the invisible weight pressing her shoulders into a solemn, downward curve that holds him there. Hassan can't recall ever seeing her like that – tired, sure, it would be impossible to be a caregiver and not feel the strain of it. But this evening is different, it's more than tired. He recognizes that look; that was how he looked when his wife reached her end. 

Hassan waits until Sarah drives off before getting out of his own car. Y/n is still standing on the sidewalk, arms hugging herself and eyes cast in the direction of the receding car. She isn't dressed to be outside, denim shorts and a thin band tee are hardly enough to combat the October chill, especially when it's been raining on and off all day, and that's how he knows she's probably avoiding heading back in. And he simply can't stand to retreat to his own house when she's looking like she's about to fall apart. 

So Hassan calls out to her. 

“Hey neighbor,” it's just enough to beckon her attention, and his tone, he hopes, gives nothing away. 

“Sheriff,” as Y/n turns to him, she tries to smile but her lips quiver and the effort doesn't reach her eyes. “Hey,” her voice cracks ever so slightly and he suddenly feels guilty about intruding on what might have been a private moment. “How are you?”

Of course she asks how he's doing when she's the one on the verge of tears. 

“Doin’ alright,” he shrugs, stuffing his hands into his pockets, “you?”

Before anything leaves her lips, which she's pressed into a thin line, Y/n nods stiffly. “I'm….” She sniffles and Hassan steps closer until he's standing where Sarah's car had been parked. “I'm okay,” she manages softly, adverting her gaze to their feet. 

He doesn't know what prompts him – his urge to comfort her or the fact that he'd wished someone had done that for him – but Hassan reaches out to lay a hand on her shoulder, and gives it an affectionate squeeze. “You sure?”

And he swears that's like slipping the pin out of the grenade. Or more accurately, throwing a pebble at a cracked window; the tiny thing that shatters something already so fragile. 

A sob tumbles past her lips and without thinking, he pulls her against him. She's small enough for her head to settle against the center of his chest while he smooths his hand over her hair. Hassan knows all too well that now isn't the time for him to marvel at how well she fits in his arms, like they're two puzzle pieces just snapping into place. Despite his efforts though, the thought lingers in the back of his mind.

“He's dying,” she cries, words muffled as she keeps her face pressed to his chest, “He's dying and there's nothing else I can do for him.”

Her words make him hold her tighter, as if he's trying to keep her pieces from scattering. “I'm so sorry,” is the only thing he offers. All other words of sympathy and comfort feel wrong in the moment, so they stay like that and Hassan holds her until loud cries turn to slow tears. In fact, it isn't even him that pulls away – if it were up to him, he'd hold her until the next morning, longer if she needs it. 

“God,” wiping her cheeks hastily, Y/n sniffles, continuing bashfully, “Sorry about that. I bet you're never gonna ask anyone how they're doing ever again.”

“Don't be so hard on yourself,” he counters dismissively, “is there anything I can do?” 

Her smile, though genuine, is small and sad. “You've already done a lot,” Y/n assures him, “but maybe you could come in for coffee? If you have time,” she adds hastily.

He really had meant to come home and make dinner, hopefully get Ali to tell him about his day, but there's half a pizza in the fridge and he's pretty sure his son is gonna make up an excuse to not have dinner with him, the way he does every evening. Besides, he doesn't want to leave Y/n alone and another half hour can't hurt. “Coffee sounds good.”

Despite being embarrassed about her little meltdown, Y/n is enormously grateful that Hassan agrees to come in for coffee – and it's not even because of that silly little school girl crush she's been nursing since the day they met. It's because when it's just her and her grandfather in the house, she can hear his laboured breathing even in the rooms furthest from his bedroom and she's hoping that talking to the sheriff will distract her a little. 

For just a few minutes, Y/n wants to pretend that the man who's wrapped up in some of her fondest memories isn't slipping away and Sarah hasn't just told her to start making arrangements. 

His steps are soft as he follows her into the kitchen, and it takes getting there for her to remember that she's left a tray with food and medication on the table. “Shit,” she hisses softly, going to collect it off the small table.

“It's alright if you have to take that up,” Hassan says, halting in the doorway, “I can wait or….”

“No,” Y/n shakes her head as she empties a small bowl of rice cereal into the trash before grabbing a smaller bowl of applesauce to do the same with that, “This is from breakfast. He wouldn't eat it. Didn't eat dinner last night and….” When her voice starts shaking, Y/n stops herself and sets the dishes in the sink. Washing off her hands, she fixes her attention on the coffee maker. It's a nice one, the kind that comes with a milk frother. It's one of the few things that she'd brought from her apartment in the city to make life in Crockett a little more comfortable. “How do you take it?” She asks, slipping a mug into the designated place. 

“Black, two sugars,” he returns, now standing near the table with his hands stuffed into his pockets. He makes the space look small, Y/n thinks, and on a regular day it's one of the things she fancies about him. He's so big, capable of being incredibly imposing and yet the only thing she ever feels in his presence is safe. And it's not because of his uniform or the fact that he's a man of the law, it's because there's a softness about Hassan that makes her yearn to be close to him. 

It doesn't matter what everyone says about him, Y/n just doesn't see it. He doesn't say a lot, probably even less to her than everyone else on the island, but there's a kindness in his very rare smile and a sadness in his eyes that she wishes she could help with.

“We can talk about it, if you want,” Hassan offers as Y/n stirs two teaspoons of sugar into his coffee.

When Y/n turns to hand him the ceramic mug, she encourages him to sit before returning to the machine and it takes a couple minutes more to sort her thoughts out enough to address his suggestion. “I don't know if there is anything to talk about,” she admits, thumb nail flicking the edge of the tile countertop, “I knew he was terminal when I got here. It was never a matter of if, it was when. But now that its….when, I feel like it's too soon, you know?”

Hassan nods, and she knows that his agreement isn't just surface level empathy – she's heard about his wife from the gossipy folks in town. “I keep reading about all these people who grieve their parents, spouses…. grandparents before they die, because they know it's happening,” Y/n goes on, and at this point, she's rambling in hopes of making sense of her experience, “but it was never like that for me. Until now. I mean I knew he was gonna….” She can't even bring herself to say the words. 

“But you didn't think it would be like this,” it's like he's taken the words right out of her mind when he says them. “You thought he'd just go to sleep one night, it would happen and then it would be over.”

“Yeah, exactly,” collecting her mug, Y/n assumes the chair closest to Hassan, “but this is so different. He's in pain, he won't eat, barely drinks water. I know that it's best for him, so he can be…..at peace again,” her eyes start welling up again, and much to her surprise, he reaches over and rests his free hand over. Y/n can count one hand the amount of times he's touched her. Four times. 

He shook her hand when they first met and the three other times had happened that very evening.

Admittedly, it's a little confusing; she's spent so long convinced that he doesn't like her that it's hard to believe that him sitting in her kitchen isn't anything more than pity. But that hug didn't feel like pity and the sincerity in his eyes doesn't feel like that either. His thumb is caressing the side of her wrist, the roughness of his finger contrasting with the softness of his skin. 

“I understand,” he determines quietly, “I know it doesn't help-”

“It does, you have no idea how much you've helped. Just by being here.” Y/n leans in a little, and Hassan cups her cheek. 

“You shouldn't have to go through this alone,” he ghosts the apple of her cheek, “you're there for everyone, someone should be here for you.”

Her hand slides down the back of his forearm, stopping near his elbow. “I'm….” She goes to say glad, but its the wrong word, “grateful it's you. So thank you.”

“‘Course,” Hassan hums, before searching her eyes when she inches closer, “What?”

Y/n knows she's taking a pretty big risk, he's never shown any interest in her like that and she isn't quite sure that her next request has anything to do with her feelings for him. But she asks anyway. “What if I wanted to forget….just for a little while.” She leans in closer, and that time, he does too.

They're so close that Y/n can smell bits of Crockett's salty air mingling with a very subtle cologne. So close that it just takes a couple inches forward on her part for their lips to meet. He tastes like coffee, and his gray flecked beard scratches her face in the most enthralling way. Surprisingly, he reciprocates; his other hand reaches for the back of her neck as he deeps the kiss. 

Clumsily, Y/n fumbles out of her chair and into his lap, his worn jeans rubbing against her exposed thighs. The chair scrapes along the hardwood floor when he tries to get it a couple inches away from the table, but neither of them pay any mind to the noise. His large palm inches down her back to eventually slips under the hem of her t-shirt while Y/n starts fiddling with the top button of his uniform. 

“Y/n,” he mumbles her name as she pops the second button. Her reply is a hum and an attempt to press her lips to his a bit harder. The bulge in his jeans is firm against her thigh, encouraging her to suggestively grind against his crotch. “Y/n,” that time, Hassan tears his lips from hers and swiftly grabs both her wrists in on his hands, while the other stays firmly on her back – on the outside of her t-shirt. 

“You don't want to?” Because of course, on top of overwhelming grief, she has to deal with the shame rejection after she tries to jump her neighbor's bones.

“Trust me,” he heaves, glancing down between them. She can still feel his hard on through his jeans and the thought of what it might feel like without restraint causes her to shift in anticipation. “I want to. But I don't think you want to,” and before she can get an argument in, he cuts her off, “At least, not like this.”

Hassan lets her wrists go in favor of cupping her face with both hands. Leaning in until their foreheads meet, he sighs heavily. “Whatever this could be shouldn't start because you're running away from feeling something difficult.”

“I'm not-” she tries to argue, but her voice breaks, “you’re right.”

“Just….give yourself some time. And when this is over, and you're really ready – and if you still want this – I'll be waiting.” That time, when their mouths meet, the kiss is more gentle. It isn't fueled by passion or haste, it's a promise. 

When the break, Y/n slides out of his lap and goes to lean on the lip of the sink. Hiding her face in her hands, she groans loudly, “God,” she bemoans, “I feel so stupid.”

A weaker spot in the old floor creaks ever so slightly as Hassan stands and closes the short distance in a couple long strides. “Don't be,” he weans her hands off her face, holding them so he can caress her knuckles, “honestly, if you weren't crying thirty minutes ago no one would be able to pry me off you.”

His words rouse a quiet chuckle and Y/n spends another handful of seconds staring at their joined hands. “I'm gonna hold you to that,” she affirms quietly.

Hassan gives her hands a squeeze, “I'd hope so,” he glaces backwards at the window. It's starting to get dark out and there are a couple lights on over at his place, signaling that Ali is home. “I should…”

“Of course,” Y/n nods, “Yeah.”

His hands gently cup her neck and she curves her fingers over his wrists, thumbs absently stroking his skin. “If you need anything,” he lowers his head, so close the tips of their noses are almost touch, “you know where to find me.” 

After a bit of hesitance, Hassan kisses her one last time before finally letting her hands go and turning to leave. In the doorway, he turns to offer her a short wave and sad, lopsided smile before continuing towards the front door. Meanwhile, Y/n lingers at the sink, toying with her nails even as the front door clicks shut. Through the window, she watches Hassan cross the street and stroll up the front before disappearing into his house. 

And just like that, she can hear the wheezing again, and the sound of it causes her to elicit a shuddered breath. Despite her talk with the sheriff, Y/n is still unnerved by what may come within the next few days, but for the first time she isn't entirely unsure of what comes next. For a while, she'd been wondering what would come after; her grandfather is the only thing tying her to the island, but the thought of going back to the city is unnerving. Maybe now she won't have to though, at least, not for a little while longer. 

[deadghosy]

If I was in Hazbin hotel:

Author insert x Hazbin Hotel

Prompt: an author is bored as they decided to jump into their favorite fandom at this very moment.

Honestly I’m bored asf rn lmao.

Will, the blogger in tumblr known as Deadghosy was bored in his room as he listens to jay aka kub scoutz 😍 playing lil guardsman. Being even more bored they opened their palm as a digital portal opens-

OKAY STOP…at first I was gonna do that story ass shit but let me be real. I died by not getting enough sleep and I popped into hell for not liking those Jesus posts😭

I’d honestly be in the sloth ring for being lazy asf and being tired most of the time. But also be in the gluttony ring as well. A BIG BITCH GOTTA EATTTT😭

But I would probably still be able to go into the pride ring because of my pride in not needing help from people. 😭 I hate asking for damn help irl.

I actually have very sharp canine teeth and bottom rows, I might as well be mistaken for a humanoid demon lol/j

But if did have a demon form, it’s a bear since I eat and sleep all day lmao.

Alastor wouldn’t “hate hate” me but find me annoying. I would try to get on his good side and never do deals with him obviously cause I like my soul 😍. But dead ass I’m showing him lingo of gen z ☝🏾💀 cause ain’t no way ima hear this deer man yap in a way I can’t understand. This is not no new broadcast from the old times dude. “Salutations!-” HAVIN ASS😕

Friendship level: 5/10

Sir Pentious, I’m teaching this bitch how to do the whip and nae nae 😄. I love him personally cause he so silly sometimes. I would just pop up as he works on weapons but not help him lol. I think personally our friendship would be the kind to talk to each other for a little and stop and repeat😕

Friendship level: 4.5/10

Charlie would like me because of my hyperactive personality sometimes. Like if I’m fixating on something, she would listen and probably tell her father. But mostly i wouldn’t do the trust exercises, she’ll have to drag my black ass to do them 💀

Friendship level: 6/10

Lucifer and I would be so chill dead ass. He’s probably adopt me if I’m gonna be honest cause I also have a duck toy in my room as we speak 😭LITERALLY I MIGHT AS WELL BE A MINI HIM WITH HIM HAVING HYPER FIXATIONS.

Friendship level: 10/10

Vaggie and me, idk she’s chill but short tempered. But I don’t think she would hate me but only he suspicious at first, but then just be chill with me. I would try to help her around but procrastinate lmao

Friendship level: 5.5//10

Husk would probably be chill but not have an opinion on me honestly. It will depend on me just going to talk to him or being nervous to talk to him. I hate being awkward so I would just wave or sit by his bar and chill with him as I draw.

Friendship level: it’s probably between 3/10 and 5/10

Angel and me, idk I feel like I would be a small friend of his to help. He wouldn’t trauma dump that much on me cause I’m just a kid so it would be like “oh my work is shit but my boss is even more shit.” So I would just nod acting like I don’t know what’s going on. Plus, I would probably try to make him something with the help of Lucifer

Friendship level: ima be honest…it’s probably a 4/10 cause I’m a minor and he has problems he need it overcome. He doesn’t need a minor to yap his ear off 😕

The Vee’s…😕ain’t no way ima talk to them front to front if I’m actually gonna be their friends dead ass. I would probably mostly be friends with Velvette to hook me up on outfits😍

Friendship level: -1000/10

Valentino…HAH YOU WOULD HAVE TO CATCH MY BLACK ASS ACTUALLY DEAD IF IM GONNA CHILL WITH THIS BASTARD 😂 I’m burning his whole studio down in a cool ass pyro tf2 mask. Fuck that bitch, all my homies hate Valentino 🤭

ENEMY LEVEL: 10000000/10🖕🏾

Vox, I’m begging him to try to advance my phone so I can prank call heaven and hell at the same time. I’m using so much evil ass shit🦆 like dead ass ima say “I heard your high school bully is in heaven” to an angel so they would go crazy trying to find their bully lmao. But Vox would hate my ass cause..I’m me? Idk lol

Enemy level: 8.5/10

Velvette, eh I feel like we would be mutuals but not too friendly. More like a hook up just so i can get free outfits and she can get a quick teen model and I can leave with the fit fr 😍 no money, free outfit‼️

Friendship level: 4.5/10

Adam and me..we throwin hands. Full on fist to fist. He probably would try to cheat but nahhh, you gettin kicked in the manhood bitch 😄‼️ but yeah me and him, enemies for life. He’s funny I’ll admit, but be honest having him beside you irl💀

Enemy level: he better keep one eye open.

Sera…yeah she not letting me in heaven lmao 😭 that’s all ima say LMAOO

Friendship level: -0/10

Lute will 100% percent kill me for my mouth 😭. I’d probably say GYATT to her for funnies only to get stab. But I would just be quiet and try to be on her good side lmao

Friendship level: 2/10

Emily would like me but would be the type of person to keep me in check with my mouth and vulgar language as I just chill eating all the food in heaven. She def givin me good tours.

Friendship level: a good 7.5/10

That’s all I have lmao

[twyftwyt]

this is going to be a long one, so prepare yourselves, cause I need to get some stuff off my chest

All that’s wrong in the BO fandom and with BO themselves:

1. Proper media training - I think none of the boys in the band, aside from Noah, have proper media training and it shows in interviews. I feel like, with them growing so big over the last year, they need to take some proper time and do that, so we can save each other the little awkward moments where interviewers ask weird questions or make even weirder statements and the guys just sit there looking a little lost.

2. Their crew needs to chill (at times) - Now I understand that every fandom has got their crazies, it’s a part of the lore, but come on! I’ve seen not once or twice, crew members being mean towards the fandom, calling us dumb and whatnot. If I see something I don’t like or find weird/stupid/pointless/delusional, I might share it with my friends, but I won’t go around posting about it on my story/twitter. There are people in this fandom that go overboard and need to be shown the door, but when you show disrespect to one, you show disrespect to all and that, I feel, needs to be stated somewhere. Matt is unnecessarily mean sometimes and so are Steven and other crew members. I feel like if I were in their position, I’d probably want to call out people on their shit too, but no need to do it ALL THE TIME.

3. The band is too closed off - And don’t get me wrong here, I understand and respect boundaries, but it sounds and feels a little contradictory when the lead singer of the band says in an interview that he feels closer to some of the artists he listens to, because he’s read their life story. The irony in that is massive. When you deny fans of little things like posts here and there, sharing a little something personal (example: Dove Cameron, Halsey, Thirty Seconds to Mars are all artists that make and write their own music and I’ve heard at least one story from each of them on how a personal event inspired said song). So when you deny fans of little things like that, you get obsessive people who try ro dig up your personal life, just to feel a bit more connected to your music. Everything can be regulated, I feel, if done and said right.

4. They all (the band and crew) need to collectively accept the fact that the band’s becoming massive, which means that they will attract all kinds of fans. Fans that will be there only for Noah. Fans that will be there only for TikTok hits like “Just Pretend” and whatnot. And they’d benefit so much more from those people if they just knew how to use everything to their advantage. Now one little comment from the crew sets the whole fandom ablaze. They’re not a small town band supporting bigger acts on tour anymore.

ok, I’ll stop yapping now and remember, this is just my opinion, you don’t have to agree with it and you also don’t have to argue with me on it ✌🏻

[wehangout]

So, the amazing Calli @callivich came up with this beautiful idea for DVD commentary, fic style, and the amazing questions that go with it. As suggested, I'll be indulging myself while talking about:

Thicker Than Forget. Summary: He blinks at you. “What was your first name?” “Erato.” “Erato,” he repeats. “No need to roll the r.” “Like the muse?” You grin. “Poet, meet muse."

AU. Ian is a poet. Mickey is his recently-corporal muse. They eat an absurd amount of stupidly named ice cream, try to find beauty in things, and fall hopelessly in love.

This was fun! Let me know if you want commentary on any other fics!

Give us some stats - (when you wrote it, word count, how long it took to finish, is it a one-shot/multi-chapter, etc)

So, I wrote this for the Shameless Big Bang in 2021. I couldn’t tell you how long it took me to write (Word is giving me conflicting info), but it was probably my easiest write to date. Word count sits at 30-ish thousand words.

What was the initial inspiration for your story?

It was initially inspired by a novel. I don’t remember which one, but it was either Lament or Ballad by Maggie Stiefvater. The only similarity between that one and mine is that a character falls in love with their muse. The plot itself is very different.

If the story is written from a character’s POV, why did you choose this character?

Mickey. Because it’s almost always Mickey lmao. I did try from Ian’s, but this had to be from the muse’s POV and Mickey had to be the muse.

What was your favourite scene to write?

The smut 👀 if you’ve read it, I hope you understand why lmao

How did you come up with the title?

From the poem, Love is Thicker Than Forget! It fits so well with Ian being a poet and the overall theme of the story.

Are there any little moments or references you hope readers will notice?

I went a little meta on fanfic, fandom, and shipping in this, which was so fun. I think only one person seemed to really notice and mention it, though, haha.

Was there anything you struggled to write? If so, how did you overcome this?

I didn’t struggle to write it, but figuring out how to end it was tough. It took a long time for me to figure that out. When I originally came up with the idea it was for an original story, and did not have a happy ending.

Favourite line in the story?

I’m gonna go with lines, plural, because I have a couple

He kisses you and he kisses you and oh. Oh. This is what they were writing about. All the poets, every word of creativity they took from you … it’s this.

He closes his eyes and continues to sigh sonnets into your skin

Also, the last two lines of dialogue, and, I mean, “Fuck the connection” has to be right up there.

What are you most proud about in the story? (plot, characterisation, dialogue, twist/cliffhanger, etc)

The writing, actually. I’m not a poetic person, none of the poems in the fic are mine, but I’m pretty proud of the poetic nature of the writing.

Are there any ‘behind the scenes’ info you’d like to share - e.g. what’s going on in a characters head in a certain scene or how you came to write a certain line?

So, this is the fic that made me realise I needed to stop taking things so seriously lmao. @captainjowl can attest to the research I tend to do. In this case, every ice cream name was a legit flavour at the time, taken from a Baskin-Robbins website. The mural exists. The flowers and trees in the botanic gardens are flowers and trees found in that exact botanic garden. The hoodie! Taken straight from the Brooklyn Zoo website. The pasta they eat at the North Pond – I used Google Maps to make sure there was an Italian restaurant nearby and looked up ponds in Lincoln Park.

I've since tried to be more chill. Sometimes I fail.

Reading back the story now, is there anything you’d change or add?

I’d make it longer, if possible.

Would you ever write a sequel to this story?

It’s a nice idea, because I’d love to write something pretty again, but I have zero inspiration for it.

Are there any ‘easter eggs’ in your story - e.g. references to other stories you’ve written, a trope you often use etc?

Uh, if you’ve read this and Suncatcher you might notice that I, like Ian and Sandy, have a thing for The Doors.

If you’ve chosen your most popular story, are you surprised by the popularity?

I don’t know if this is my most popular story, but I was definitely surprised by the intensity of the comments I received. It was one time when I knew I’d written something good, but the way it made other people feel definitely took me by surprise.

Anything else you’d like the readers to know about the story?

I love that this was loved. I still go back and read it every now and then and just sigh.

[dem-obscure-imagines]

I Know the End | Vol. 3

Poe Dameron x Reader

Fandom: Star Wars

Summary: You were one of the Rebellion’s greatest weapons in the Galactic Civil War, a Princess from a distant planet, a Jedi with wings. Now, you’ve found yourself in a new world, a new war, your old friends long gone.

When Poe Dameron was sent on a wild goose chase of a reconnaissance mission four systems out, he never expected to find the key to his heart…

Note: At long last, here it is. Thank you for your patience. I love you all. I honestly wrote this as a long-winded attempt to make Poe Dameron’s dumbest line “Somehow, Palpatine returned” into a gut-wrenching and emotional moment and it got way out of hand. I am no Star Wars expert, but I did a lot of research for this and consider myself waaaaaaay more of a SW nerd now than I was a mere two months ago. Could probably write a dissertation on it at this point (I say as I literally churned out a novel). It is my first time writing for the fandom, though, so, here goes nothing. I did make up a fair bit of stuff and a good handful of OCs for this. Let me know what you think!

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, lightsaber and blaster wounds, alcohol consumption, war and the implications of it, gets a little steamy but no smut, reader has nightmares, misuse of the Force, Rewriting the Rise of Skywalker a lil bit…

Word Count: 82.7k total (Split into four approximately 20k chunks)Reader Is: 24, a Jedi, a Princess, has butterfly wings

Vol 1. | Vol 2. | Vol 3. | Vol 4.

Sentimental or Superstitious

You could tell when Poe walked into your meditation room that he didn’t exactly have good news. Your eyes were closed. You were floating in the back of the room, a few wooden balls floating in rings around you, like moons in orbit. You felt him in the doorway, watching, a certain warmth swirling in his chest.

“You can say hi, you know.” You told him, eyes still closed.

“Didn’t want to scare you.” He admitted, walking inside, steps slow.

“You couldn’t. I always feel when you’re here.” You finally opened them, letting in the light, dim though it was. “Your energy is pretty hard to ignore.”

“I’m flattered, your Highness.” He put a hand to his chest, his smile hiding something. You could tell. Maybe it was the Force, or maybe it was something else entirely, but you were always able to read him like a book.

You walked closer, using the Force to close the door behind him, then the curtains, granting you some privacy. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

“Mission. Black Squadron. Outer Rim. We’re gonna be gone for three days.” He said, taking your hand. He fiddled with your fingers absently, waiting for your response.

“Oh. Yeah, alright.” You nodded, that bittersweet feeling sinking in. It was familiar, in a way. That was how the Rebellion had been, too. People left sometimes for days at a time. Sometimes, they wouldn’t come back. It was a war. That was the nature of those sorts of things. “Be safe.”

“That’s…it? You’re not gonna try to stop me?” He asked, almost sad about it.

“I know I couldn’t if I tried.” You said, slipping your hand further into his. “You’re nothing if not stubborn. I happen to love that about you. And this…isn’t my first war. I know how these things go.”

He nodded, eyes locked on the way your fingers looked together. Yours in his. His wrapped around yours. You’d held his hands so many times, and yet, he still got chills from the feeling. Everything about the two of you together felt so right. He couldn’t remember a part of his life without you in it anymore. It both thrilled and scared him.

“I just…I need you to know that every time you climb into that cockpit, you’re taking my heart with you.” You said, taking a step closer, raising your hand to rest against his cheek. “Be careful with it.”

He’d shaved a few days before, but now he had some decent stubble growing back already. It suited him.

Poe closed his eyes, let out a long breath, letting your touch soothe away the cresting doubts in his mind. He reached up and held your hand against his cheek, eyes big and sad and brown. “(Y/N), you can’t just say that and still expect me to leave.”

You chuckled. “I know. I mean it, though. You…” You’re the love of my life, Poe Dameron. “You mean a lot to me, you know. I need you and that droid of yours to get back to me in one piece.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He smiled, pressing a kiss to your thumb.

“What time are you wheels-up?”

“About an hour from now. Hour and a half maybe.”

“Great. Then meet me in my quarters in five.” You told him, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. With a flourish of your wrists, the curtains opened again. You used the Force to push the door back open, into its welcoming, propped position.

BB-8, who was sitting just outside it, whirred in greeting, promising to help the mission go smoothly.

“Oh I know you will, Bee.” You reassured him, glancing back at Poe as you left him standing there, your heart in his hand. “You’re one of our best.”

***

You sat on your bunk, fingers fiddling with the Mariposan Healer’s Pendant, which you had strung from a leather cord. It was the same cord your kyber crystal had been strung on, repurposed. When the door slid open, you set it on your nightstand, looking up to find Poe, still in his leather jacket and a soft shirt.

He shed the jacket almost immediately, depositing it on the chair at your desk. He walked over to the bed, hands finding your waist quickly as he kissed you. It was different this time, slower, more passionate, deliberate and careful. He brought one hand up to the back of your neck, guiding it into your hair.

Poe leaned forward, urging you onto your back, movements hardly domineering, but steadfast and sure. Guiding, not demanding. A request, not an order.

You laid back, a hand on his cheek, the other guiding him down on top of you.

He rested his head on your chest, letting out a long breath as you started playing with his hair, his arms looped around your waist. His breathing was slow, relaxed. He knew if he closed his eyes, he was at risk of falling asleep to the lulling forces of your warmth on his cheek and the smell of your sweet perfume wafting through his nostrils.

“Is this an okay position for you?” He asked. “I just…your wings. I don’t wanna crush you, baby.”

“They’re flexible like that. They’ll be fine.” You reassured him, fingers still buried in his soft curls. “It’s like falling asleep on your arm. Cuts off circulation for a little while, but no real harm done.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, the vibrations gentle against you.

“I’ve never seen you scared like this.” You told him. “Is it a bad one?”

“Pretty routine.” He shrugged. “Nothing particularly dangerous. It’s…well, it’s all dangerous on some level, but you know what I mean. I just…I’ve always flown with nothing to lose. That’s not really the case anymore.”

Your heart just about melted. You kissed the crown of his head.

“You know, Rose says that…this Resistance…it’s not about fighting what you hate, it’s about protecting what you love.” You said. “That’s how it was for us, too. You can’t think about the what ifs too hard. You have to think about the celebration after. You picture all your friends there. Alive. Happy. Safe. And you fight for those victories, the ones where everyone gets to celebrate.”

He smiled, tilting his face up to kiss your cheek, then your lips. He hovered above you for a moment, admiring you, that flyboy smile returning to that handsome face. “You’re wiser than your years, you know.”

“I’ve been told that, yeah.” You chuckled, leaning up to kiss him. “I, uh, have something for you.”

“Oh yeah?”

You sat up as he sat back and reached for the necklace on your nightstand, pressing it into his palm. He stared at it for a long moment, He thought about this rock a lot, the one he’d used to wake you up, the one he’d journeyed across several planets to find. He couldn’t fathom why you were giving it back to him now,

“Baby, this is yours.”

“You used it to save me once. It’ll bring you back to me in one piece.” You said, curling his fingers around it. “Call me sentimental or superstitious…”

“Thank you.” He said, grasping it tight. He slipped the cord over his neck, the metal clinking against the ring there. His mother’s ring. “I’ll get it back to you. I promise.”

You pressed one final kiss to his pillow-soft lips before murmuring, “You better, flyboy.”

History Echoes

You saw the Squadron off from your spot on the hill at the edge of camp, watching as their X-Wings took off into the air, getting into formation before blasting away at lightspeed. Your hair blew in the breeze. Artoo beeped beside you, comforting.

“Oh I know, Artoo. He’s the best there is. And BB-8 will take care of him.” You said.

He beeped out a message, basically calling you out for being too emotionally invested in a pilot.

You laughed. “I know that, too. But this flyboy is different.”

Artoo agreed and the two of you returned to camp.

In the afternoon, you stood in the patch of dirt outside the kitchens, fenced in loosely. You’d been saving food scraps, propagating the ends of heads of lettuce, producing sprouts from fruit pits, collecting seeds. With so many troops, fresh food was a luxury you could not take for granted. Being able to grow more food would be crucial.

“I knew it was a matter of time before I found you out here with your hands in the dirt.” Laesynda said, gliding through the gate. Posture straight, eyes warm.

“Took me a while to get things to sprout.” You confessed. “And I recently stumbled into some free time.”

“Mind if I help you?”

“If you don’t mind getting dirty, Admiral.” You said, a glint of mischief in your eye as she knelt in the dirt beside you, despite her long, flowing Mariposan garb. You used a trowel to create little holes in the dirt, carefully placing sprouts roots-down in the moist soil. You covered them carefully, sweeping the dirt into place with your hands, patting them down flat.

Laesynda helped, very obviously trained by the few Mariposans that remained. Gardening and plants had always been important to your people. You were glad that your sister had learned that, despite the circumstances.

“I heard Black Squadron shipped out.” She said, voice even. “You doing okay?”

“Oh yeah. I’m fine.”

“So this isn’t stress gardening?”

“No. Well, maybe a little.”

“How are things with you and him?” She asked. “I heard him lying to some of the rookies that Jedi aren’t allowed to fall in love.”

You burst into laughter, able to picture it so easily. “He would say that, wouldn’t he? Well, it’s good. We’re good.”

“I noticed you two touching less. In public, that is. I figured that either meant your little gala went very well, or very wrong.” She said with a laugh.

“I think you and Soren are the only two that have it figured out.”

“Not Rey?”

“She doesn’t pry, which is nice. And if we tell one person, we’ll have to tell everyone, and we’re definitely not ready for that.” You admitted. “I do plan on telling Leia, though. She’d want to know.”

“She’s been rooting for you two since the beginning.” Laesynda confessed. “She and I talked about it one night over a bottle of Mariposan wine.”

You missed those days, gossiping with Leia. It was…weird, being in different age groups. You hoped it was something you would grow back into, being friends with her again. Now, whether she meant to or not, she treated you as something of a niece. A child of hers, even, which only made sense, given the circumstances on her end. But still.

Chewie stood at the fence and let out a curious roar.

“We’re starting a garden. Growing some fresh fruits and veggies for the food supply.” You told him. “Do you want to help?”

He agreed, walking over and setting to work with you, helping move heavy piles of soil, and once things were planted, he helped move some stepping stones into place. You set out large barrels to collect rainwater. It rained a decent bit on Ajan Kloss, but it was also pretty warm. It would be nice to have some water saved in case you hit a dry patch.

The three of you worked out there for hours, a few other volunteers helping until you had several neat little rows of plants, as well as paths through and around them, the fence reinforced to keep out the native species of animals that lived on the planet. Most of them were friendly, at least as far as you knew, but you were sure they were more than likely to end up nibbling on your veggies.

Laesynda wrapped an arm around you, Chewie standing on your other side as you looked down at the literal fruits of your labor. If you all lived on this base long enough, you could only imagine the kinds of things that would start to take root.

***

In the canteen, after dinner, the room was filled with various recruits, passing their idle time before bed. Some played cards, some read quietly by themselves. Some were sharing drinks, telling stories from home.

You were sitting in there, getting some reading done yourself. Luke had left you some notes he’d taken during his studies. Experiments he had done, learning new tricks and abilities with the Force. He’d written about a Force-sensitive tree that he and Poe’s parents had planted on Yavin IV. He’d written about a young Yoda-like student he’d had, a baby who was fifty years old, raised by a Mandalorian. He’d written about Force healing, that is, how to use your life force to heal most injuries. Extreme ones were risky, supposedly, but minor injuries could be patched up mostly harmlessly.

It was good to know. You had never tried it. Though you hadn’t had all that much training before going to sleep for thirty years. But that was what the notes were for, you supposed. To fill in those blanks.

“This seat taken?” One of the new recruits asked. He was a pilot, that much you knew. Not Reggie. This guy was tall, covered in lean muscle. He had something of a mullet, hair a dark brown color.

“Not at all.”

“You’re the princess, right? The Jedi?”

“That would be me.”

“I’m Foxx. I’m with Blue Squadron.”

“Cool. Nice to meet you. Welcome to the Resistance.” You said, turning back to your studies. You could feel his eyes on you, though. 

“Commander Dameron was spreading a rumor, I thought I’d find out if it was true.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

“He said Jedi aren’t allowed to fall in love. Thought I’d ask you out. See if I could change your mind.” He asked.

You thought he was joking. Wanted him to be joking. But when you looked up, his eyes were dead serious. You laughed.

“Is this that? This is the…asking me out part?” You laughed again and the cocky look on his face flickered. “Listen, kid, I’m flattered. But…Commander Dameron never lies. I don’t date. Especially not flyboys like you.”

You packed up your book and gave him a friendly shoulder pat, chuckling at the irony of it all before moving towards your room to read there instead.

“You don’t date, huh?” Leia asked, walking somewhere. “You and Luke must have changed your minds on that, then.”

You laughed. “Yeah something like that. That or it keeps these ogling rookies off my back.”

“You can’t blame them, you know. I remember when we were the elusive young princesses on base.” She chuckled. “You alone get to share that burden now.”

“The weight of the galaxy on these shoulders.” You said, reminiscent. “How have you been, Leia?”

She offered her hand. “Why don’t we have a talk? It’s been a while.”

“I was going to say the same thing.” You agreed, taking it. The two of you walked back to her quarters and sat in the chairs she had by the window, overlooking, ironically enough, your garden. A flowering tree was growing just beyond the window’s edge, purple and pink hues framing the sight perfectly.

You looked around. There were a few projected holos of her and Han, their wedding, and a boy you could only assume was Ben, or more accurately, Kylo. You shivered.

“How has your training been going?” She asked first.

“Really well. Soren is coming along nicely. He’s a little unsure at first, but once he’s done something a few times, he really gets the hang of it. And Rey, as I’m sure you know, is a natural. I haven’t seen the Force this strong in anyone since…well, since Luke.”

“I barely believed it myself when Han brought her along for the first time. He really warmed up to her. You know how hard that was to pull off.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” You replied, letting out a breath.

“And no one around here has been giving you trouble?”

“Oh, no. Everyone’s been nice.”

“Even Poe?”

“Especially Poe.” You said, lips curling around his name with warmth. 

You met her eyes and…you could tell she knew. She was your best friend, had been since you were girls. Your dads had been friends growing up. Well, her adoptive father, but Bail Organa had been nothing but good to her, whereas Vader had a muddier track record.

“He’s a little reckless,” she said, tone indicating this was the beginning of a list. “Headstrong. He’s got a bit of a rebellious streak. But…he’s incredibly loyal. Brave. I…well, I see a lot of Han in him.”

“I can see why.” You nodded. You saw it too. Hell, you’d thought he was Han, that first time you’d laid eyes on him, your vision blurred.

“Did he tell you about his attempted mutiny?”

“His what?” You asked, sitting more comfortably.

She explained to you what had really happened just before the battle of Crait. The dreadnought incident, Admiral Holdo, and Poe’s attempted mutiny against her before he got stunned. You couldn’t help but chuckle a little, imagining where you’d have fallen in all that. It would have been tricky. Especially if you’d have had higher clearance than Poe, which you would have with his demotion. 

But at the time, Luke was still alive. Part of you was pretty sure you would have been off with him, untangling whatever web was still hanging between you, training Rey together.

“He’s learned a lot since then, I think. It taught him to take a step back, to look at the bigger picture before getting too trigger-happy.” Leia said softly. “I think if we need him, he’d be a great leader. A great general.”

“You’re not going anywhere.” You said, layering your hand over hers. “And you make a great general too, if I do say so myself.”

Her eyes twinkled. “It means worlds to hear you say that.”

“Leia…Poe and I…we’re…”

“Oh, I know.” She laughed. “You’ve never been able to hide things like that from me. I could feel it coming since the two of you first stepped off the Falcon together. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. I knew then that I’d sent him for a reason. And I think you’re good together, for the record.”

“Thanks.” You chuckled. “So you knew…when we went to that gala…”

“I was hoping you would. Figured it would help get both of your minds back to where they needed to be, instead of dancing around each other like Han and I.”

“We’re still keeping it kind of quiet, though.” You told her. “Just for now. We haven’t talked about…telling people.”

“I know.” She winked. “Take your time. We have a war to win, after all. There are stranger things we have to face than a princess and a pilot falling in love.”

It was like history was echoing, in a lot of ways. You could feel the way it bounced against the caverns, threads interlocking into something new, but familiar. This life, your new life, was made of the same cloth as the old one, after all. But this parallel meant something else to you. Leia and Han, though not forever, got their life together.

You could only hope to get to that point with Poe. A life after the war, a home to settle down in. A wedding. And you hoped Leia would be there, too. You hoped all of them would.

***

In the morning, the second day of Poe’s three-day mission, you laid in bed alone. You hadn’t really dreamt, aside from murmurs of him. His voice, his soft hair between your fingers, his lips. It felt different than your other dreams, the ones you’d had of him in your life before.

They weren’t prophecies anymore. They were real. He was yours.

But it still hurt when you opened your eyes and saw the empty pillow in front of you, didn’t even feel his presence down the hall in his shared room with Finn.

You hoped he was okay out there.

After a quick breakfast, you set out into the forest for more flight training with Soren. You’d set up a few variations on courses, training yourself as much as him, challenging the both of you to fly higher, further, faster. Covering distance would make you indispensable in a fight. Like an X-Wing on the ground, but with a lightsaber instead of a giant blaster. It would also make it easier to get away from a fight, if you needed a quick escape. There weren’t many enemies that could counter that kind of maneuver.

After that, you went into your meditation room to find Finn there, sitting on one of the cushions. Eyes closed, breaths slow and even. Ribbons of sunlight danced across his skin, through the billowing curtains that hung in the window. In front of him, one of your wooden balls wiggled once, twice, before lifting, very slowly, a few inches into the air.

Your eyes widened, staring. You weren’t doing it. Rey and Soren weren’t even there. No, it was Finn, moving it with his mind. With the Force.

“Finn.” You whispered.

His eyes opened and the ball fell. He met your eyes, confused almost, as to why you looked so shocked. “What?”

“You just…You’re Force Sensitive!” You pointed to the ball.

He stared up at you.

“What?”

“You were lifting the ball! I saw it!” You insisted, heart racing with excitement. You’d always known there was something about him. That spark of potential, waiting to be honed.

“I wasn’t trying to. I’ve…been stressed, so I thought I’d try meditation, like you and Rey do.”

You crossed the room, taking both of his hands in yours. “I always knew it. I could feel there was something there. This is…you’re one of us. I don’t want to spring all of this on you at once, but…if you want to, if you’re ready, you can start joining the rest of us for training. See if this is something you want to pursue.”

“You’re being serious.”

“Of course I am.” You nodded, wings fluttering a bit behind you. “We’d have to find you a saber, but…”

“What’s going on?” Rey asked, walking into the room with her staff slung over her shoulder.

You beamed at her. “Finn is Force Sensitive!”

“I knew it!” Her face lit up and she raced into the room, hugging him tightly. “This is incredible! I can’t wait to tell Poe!”

“Me either.” He grinned, opening up the hug to let you in. You hugged them gladly. This was the beginnings of it, you could feel it. These two and Soren. Your class of Jedi.

You were finally setting out to finish the work you had started some thirty years ago.

And you couldn’t wait to tell Poe either, when he finally got back.

***

After dinner, some of the mech crew had a bonfire outside. A small one. Roasted some ronto sausages that were in danger of going bad, cracked open a few saved bottles of liquor. You sat next to Finn, warming in the flickering light.

“He named me, you know. Poe.” He said, voice soft. You could barely hear him above the chirps of the crickets out in the grass.

“I didn’t know that.”

“He and I…when I escaped the First Order, we stole a TIE fighter and blasted our way out. Crashlanded on Jakku. That’s where I met Rey. But during that flight, he asked my name. I didn’t have one. They don’t give Stormtroopers those, just…numbers. An identification code.”

“Mmm…” You hummed, listening. In all your years, Finn was the first defected Stormtrooper you had met, had talked to. You were so glad he’d gotten out.

“And he wasn’t having it. Took the first two letters, F-N, and named me Finn.” He said, a smile pulling at his lips. “I…thought he was dead for a while. Didn’t see him after the crash. But, he’s nothing if not a fighter.”

“Definitely.” You agreed. Your eyebrows furrowed. “Do you…have a last name?”

“No. I don’t even know if I have a family out there, somewhere.” He admitted. “The First Order takes kids from all over. I doubt they keep track of which kids come from where.”

“I’m really sorry, Finn. That must be hard.”

“It was. Is sometimes, if I’m being honest. But Poe, Rey, you…you’ve all made it easier. You’re the closest thing to family I’ve ever had.”

“We are family.” You assured him, reaching over and putting a hand on his shoulder. “You’re more than a brother to me at this point. And someday, wherever we all end up after this war, you’ll always have a place in my home. I mean that.”

He let out a long breath, smiling warmly at you. “Thank you, (Y/N). Would, um…would you mind if I joined you tomorrow morning? For training?”

“I’d be honored if you would.”

Rugged Good Looks

Finn did indeed join the three of you for training, armed, as Soren had once been, with a large stick. You ran him through some basic techniques, since he already had experience with a saber, that seemed like a good place to start. The Force stuff would come in time, but it was clear he already had it, you’d just have to get him to build on it from there.

You sparred with Rey a bit after. She was really good. Her experience with a staff was evident with each flourish and move. You wondered absently if a double-bladed saber would suit her, or where you’d get the kyber crystals for that. Soren would soon be getting to the point where he should be building his own anyway, but you’d have to take a trip for that. A trip you weren’t sure the Resistance could afford, as things were currently.

But Finn would need a saber soon, too…

Soren and Finn ran some drills, Finn watching as your nephew did the first few, the sound of your legacy saber familiar. You were proud that he was wielding it. Proud of him, really. He’d come so far in such a short amount of time. You were sure he’d be ready for field work soon. Couldn’t imagine his mother would be thrilled about it, but you knew he was itching to get out there, to see the galaxy and make a difference in the fight against the First Order.

Just before you and Soren were set to switch to flight training, the sound of several X-Wings coming in for a landing breached the atmosphere. Black Squadron. They were home. A quick headcount of the incoming ships confirmed what you already knew to be true. Poe was fine. He was here. Your heart raced at the thought of it.

“Black Squadron is back!” Rey said, smiling.

“Let’s…call it a day today.” You said, reaching for your water canister and taking a long drink. “Good work today, everyone. We’ll pick up there tomorrow.”

Rey and Finn exchanged a knowing look, but didn’t call you out on it.

“What about flight training, Aunt (Y/N)?” Soren laughed with a chuckle.

“Uhhhhhh I mean, I think we’re both doing pretty good at that, actually. One day off isn’t gonna hurt.” You said, heat blossoming across your cheeks.

The four of you began the long walk back to camp. You were a lot deeper in the woods than when you’d started training with just Rey all those months ago. More Force users meant it was a little more dangerous, the kinds of things you were doing. You didn’t want any unsuspecting comms technicians to stumble on your exercises out there and get seriously hurt.

You were maybe a quarter of the way when you spotted him,  BB-8, barreling towards you at top speed. At first, you thought he was just excited to be back, to see all of you, but then you caught wind of his beeps telling you that Poe was injured. That they’d taken him to the infirmary.

It was like time stopped.

Before you could say anything to the others, make any kind of plan, your wings flexed to their full span and you took off, racing through trees, about seven feet higher than you’d ever flown, soaring right past the mechs and engineers running through camp to take stock of the X-Wings that had just landed. Your speed alone would give a pod-racer pause.

You hung a right, never touching the ground once until you were at the front entrance of the infirmary, dodging through nurses and droids to find where they had him. You were breathless, wings burning. A nurse spotted you and ushered you towards Poe’s room.

From the doorway, you could see his battered orange flight suit. You stepped closer, breaths still heavy, scanning him over for damages as best you could while the nurse took his vitals. It was mostly concentrated to his face, it seemed. Two swollen, purpled black eyes, a broken nose.

“(Y/N)? How did you get here so fast?” Snap asked, standing on the other side of the cot.

You shook your head. “Not important. What happened? Is he okay?”

“I’m fine, sweetheart. Does it look that bad?”

“Can you see?” You asked, taking a few steps closer. It didn’t look like it, the way his eyes were nearly covered by the bruised flesh.

“We’re gettin’ there. Doc said these meds should help with the swelling.” He said, reaching for you, following your voice.

“Does it hurt?”

“Again, lots of meds.”

You chuckled, tears welling in your eyes at the sight of him. Maker, you were glad he was okay. “That wasn’t a no.”

He heard the crack in your voice and the sarcasm immediately melted away. His hand finally met its target: your own, fastening quickly around yours. “I’m fine, baby. It’s okay. Hey, look at me.”

Finn, Rey, and Soren walked in, BB-8 rolling in just after. He beeped out a long string, incredulous.

“You flew here?!” Snap asked, clearly impressed.

“You WHAT?!” Poe asked, wincing after, the enthusiasm of it hurting. “I didn’t know you’d worked up to that already!”

“She didn’t.” Soren said with a laugh. “Just flew. Straight over camp. Didn’t touch down once.”

“Heard you were injured and took off.” Rey added, walking over to stand with you. “Didn’t stay long enough to hear BB-8 say you were okay.”

He let out a lovesick sigh, squeezing your hand as Finn joined the two of you beside his cot. You could tell he wanted to say something else, but held it in with your friends all congregated there. “You should see the other guy.”

“What happened?” You asked.

“Fight with some spice runners in the Outer Rim. They intercepted one of our shipments, so we went to get it back.”

“Poe fought a guy three times his size.” Snap recalled. “Knocked him out, but not before…that.”

“Wow. Sounds like you’re a hero, Commander Dameron.” Finn chuckled.

“Feelin’ real heroic.”

“Looking real heroic.” Rey said, earning laughs from the rest of you.

“Take a scan. Might last you longer. They’re gonna have me back to normal in no time.” He assured, thumb tracing circles in the back of your hand. “What else is goin’ on around here? I was gone three days, I can’t have missed that much.”

“Actually, I just started my Jedi training.” Finn said.

Poe laughed. “Good one.”

“Poe.” You said, trying to meet his eyes. It was hard, with the swelling.

“Wait, what?! Are you serious?” Poe looked from you to Finn, who smiled nervously. “You’re Force Sensitive too? Finn, that’s great! That’s…wow. Maybe I should go on missions more often if you guys are so productive while I’m gone.”

“We need you here, too.” Rey said, smiling softly. “Glad you’re back. Glad you’re okay.”

Finn, Rey, Soren and Snap finished saying their well-wishes to Poe and then got out of there just as the nurse finished up, giving you some time alone with him.

He scooted to the far end of the cot, patting the space he’d left there.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Poe.”

“Don’t care. Come here. I’ve been waiting three days to hold you, I’m not letting some flesh wound get in the way of that.”

You chuckled, sitting on the edge of the cot, facing him. He reached up and took your face in both hands, his touch careful, but definitely more or less affected by the heavy meds they had him on. He pulled your face closer until your nose was touching the end of his and winced when your skin made the lightest contact.

“Careful.” You warned.

“I am being careful.” He insisted.

“Uh-huh. Sure you are. You are known for that.”

He grinned, ignoring the comment. “So tell me again about this flying over the whole base to get here?” He looked down at BB-8, who was still in the room, watching the two of you. “Did you get it? Can you show me?”

BB-8 beeped in affirmation and projected into the air, his memory of you getting the news, eyes zoning out as your wings spread to their full span, and then you took off towards the infirmary at top speed, leaves blown apart by the gust of wind you stirred up behind you.

Poe gasped. “Play it again. Slow it down fifty percent.” He said and BB-8 did just that, playing the clip again, showing the two of you your first full flight ever. You were the first Mariposan in generations to do so. “Wow, baby, you were worried about me, huh?”

“Can you blame me?” You said, turning to look at him, his eyes locked on you, gaze as soft as it could be despite the circumstances.

“I don’t think I could, showing up looking like this.” He chuckled. “I’ve still got my rugged good looks, though, right?”

“Always, hotshot.” You smiled softly. “You’d look badass if you weren’t in so much pain.”

His hand slipped into yours, fingers intertwining. He reached up and tilted your face, doing everything in his power to keep his very broken nose from brushing against yours on the way to your lips, but jolted when it did anyway, letting out a frustrated sigh. “This is gonna be really hard…”

You frowned, looking at his pathetic, pained state. And then Luke’s notes came to mind. Maybe your ex-boyfriend was good for something after all.

“Let me try something.”

“Are you gonna Jedi Mind Trick me into forgetting it hurts every time I try to kiss you? Because that could work…”

Laughter bubbled from your lips. “It would not work, actually. Those wouldn’t work on you.”

“Why is that? I’ve been meaning to ask.”

“Because they only work on idiots.”

He smirked. “Well, like I said, I’m on a lot of meds, so now is the time to experiment with that.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “I’d hit you if you weren’t already injured.”

“What were you thinking instead?”

“Permission to use the Force on you?”

“Uh, sure. I trust you.” He said, sitting up a little straighter, wincing at the effort it took.

Your hand tightened on his and you zoned in, taking a deep breath and focusing your energy. Your Force. You reached out with the other hand, holding it in front of his injured face. You closed your eyes, fingers splaying as you transferred energy from you to him.

He let out a little breath of astonishment, vision clearing as his swelling went down, bruises clearing to nothing. With a twitch, his nose set back into place. His mouth fell open, realizing what had happened. You’d healed him. You’d used the Force to heal him. Maker, the things that did to him…

You opened your eyes to find him staring back at you, eyes wide, mouth still hanging open. There he was, your Poe, his injuries from moments ago a mere memory. You lowered your hand, waiting for him to say something.

“What the actual fuck. How did you…do that?” He asked, reaching up to touch his face, experimental. When it didn’t hurt, he looked even more surprised.

“Luke left me some notes.” You admitted. “Finally read them. Apparently this is a thing you can do with the Force, transferring your energy to someone or something else. I didn’t know it would work until now.”

“Mmm…” He nodded, unable to fight the smile spreading across his newly healed face. “The nurses are about to be very confused.”

You laughed, leaning towards him, your nose brushing against his. His hands settled on your hips, pulling you a little closer as he finally kissed you, melting when his lips found yours. He reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, tilting your head as he deepened the kiss.

Part of you worried about someone walking in, seeing the two of you. Part of you didn’t care. You’d waited so long to kiss him again.

He let out a sigh, pressing his forehead to yours, eyes drifting shut for a moment. His lips grazed yours as he whispered, “Three days without you in that cockpit was driving me crazy, starlight. I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too.”

“Let’s get outta here. Go back to yours. Make up for lost time.” He said, eyes half lidded as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, tugging your waist closer. “Before we get caught in here recreating all the fantasies that have been haunting me.”

You gasped, playfully scandalized. “In front of BB-8?”

He glanced over, as if reminded his droid was sitting there. “Oh. Right. Bee, you wanna go recharge? It’s been a long few days.”

He agreed with a series of beeps, rolling out through the curtained doorway towards his charger in Finn and Poe’s room.

You stood from the bed and helped Poe up after. Once you were both upright, he couldn’t fight the urge any longer, an arm hooking around your back, just beneath your wings, sweeping you into a dip and connecting his lips with yours.

A wistful hum pulled itself from your throat, eyes fluttering shut at the passion in his movements. He really had been thinking through this for three days.

Poe stood you on your feet again, punctuating it with a kiss to your nose, then a kiss to your cheek, and then finally to your lips again. Then, he straightened himself out, leading you out of the room and into the bustling heart of the infirmary.

“Hey, uh, Nurse, am I good to go?” Poe asked, grinning when she looked him up and down, eyes widened at his suddenly healed face.

“Y-you…your face.”

“Don’t compliment him, it’ll just go to his head. Trust me.” You advised.

“Those meds really must have been something. I feel great. I’ve got some work to get back to, though, if you could clear me.”

“Uh, s-sure. Yeah, you look…yeah, that’s fine. Let us know if anything changes.”

“Will do.” Poe saluted, a hand settling on the middle of your back, a painfully neutral position as he guided you through the camp that you’d flown over not twenty minutes earlier.

Some of the recruits watched you, whispering to each other. You weren’t sure if it was about you and Poe, being seen together once again nearly as soon as he’d touched down, Poe’s injuries miraculously vaporizing, or your little flight. Maker, you really had given them a lot to whisper about lately.

You walked back to your quarters, waving amicably at friends of yours. A few stopped for smalltalk, but Poe was on a new mission, continuously guiding you back to the bedrooms. You punched in your code, ushering him in first while no one was watching.

As soon as you were both through the door, he closed it with his palm on the control panel, grabbing you by the hips and pulling you into him, crushing his lips against yours. You let out a gentle moan, hand wandering up into his curls, the other settling against the fabric of his jumpsuit.

You reached for his zipper, fingers fastening around the metal and tugging it down, earning a groan from him, a rasped breath.

“You know, I love it when you do it with the Force, but the other way is great, too.” He said, backing up towards the bed before pulling you down with him, wriggling his shoulders out of the restrictive suit.

He pulled it off, leaving him in an undershirt and boxers, laying on your bed, an orange heap on the floor. You hovered over him, a leg on either side, straddling his hips. One large hand ghosted over your thigh tattoo before they both found new spots, one against your cheek, keeping your face close to his, the other massaging circles on your lower back, edging closer and closer to your wings, but not daring to brush against the spot between them. Not yet, anyways.

The two of you made out for a while, eventually settling into a comfortable cuddling position, you slotted to his side, a leg thrown over his. His arm was wrapped around your waist, your wing spread like a blanket across him while his other hand gently ran down its silken surface.

“I can’t believe you flew to me, baby.” He whispered, still in disbelief. “Flew right over camp. No Mariposan has flown in…what, four generations? Five?”

“You would have too, if you had wings.” You smiled warmly, fingers wandering across his broad chest, stopping to linger on the healing amulet. It had done its job. It had brought him back to you, although a little more injured than you would have liked. But that hardly mattered now. He didn’t even have a scar to show for it. “You’ve been doing your research.”

“‘Course I have. I’m dating the Mariposan princess, after all. I take the responsibility very seriously. Someday, when everyone knows, they’re gonna ask me all the questions, and I’m gonna need to have all the answers.”

“Leia knows. She…figured it out a while ago, I think.”

He chuckled. “That checks out. Snap’ll probably figure it out if he hasn’t already. He heard me call you ‘baby’ today, and he knows I don’t just throw that word around. We can blame it on the meds, though.”

“You think he’ll buy it?”

Poe grinned. “No.”

You laughed, tilting your head up to press a kiss to his cheek, then the corner of his lips.

“Will you grab my jumpsuit?”

You nodded, extending a hand and using the Force to raise the jumpsuit off the floor. He plucked it from the air, digging into the pocket to pull something out. A thin strap of braided leather, light and dark brown woven together. Carefully, he wrapped it around your wrist, clasping the ends so it fit comfortably against your skin.

“Got this for you. At a little market. I read something, maybe it’s not true, about…Mariposans and bracelets. That you’re supposed to give them one to tell them you’d like to…court. I know it’s old-fashioned, but…”

“It’s true.” You smiled, lacing your fingers through his. “So we’re super official, then.”

“I was hoping so.” He murmured, pulling your arm up over his shoulder, drawing you closer and pressing his lips to yours, moving slow, savoring every taste of you. “I’m yours, (Y/N). Always have been. Since the moment you opened those beautiful eyes in that pod. Said you liked my hair and thought I was Han Solo.”

“Is that the way to your heart?” You asked, reaching up to play with the curls in question.

He smiled, taking your hand and kissing up your arm, past your shoulder, up to your lips. “One of ‘em.”

You murmured sweet nothings against his lips, finding them again and again, over and over, his hand gently sweeping down the length of your wing.

Eventually, the two of you would have to go back out there, figure out what came next. What the next move was, both for the war and your relationship. But for now, it was you and him.

Your pilot. Your Poe. And maybe someday, your prince.

Downpour and a Bottle of Wine

A few days later, Leia called another strategy meeting. This one was smaller, essential folks only. This, of course, meant your boyfriend and almost your entire friend group, thankfully, as well as your sister and the rest of the Admirals.

“Our recruitment numbers are at an all-time high, which is…really great. Our new recruits have been training and fitting into life on the base very well, and despite our new garden, courtesy of our Mariposan royals, our supplies are…dwindling. We’ll need to get our hands on more ships, more weapons, more raw materials, more food.”

One of the analysts spoke up about some allies at farms a few systems out that were willing to provide animals, food, crops. The gardens would have to be expanded for the longterm as well. Chewbacca offered to reach out to some of his friends to secure even more resources to keep everyone fed.

“The Hoth base. Is that still there?” You asked, fiddling with the braided leather bracelet on your wrist. “We didn’t clear the place before we left it. In theory, there’d still be stuff there. Weapons. Potentially ships.”

“Definitely ships. If they haven’t been stolen, scrapped for parts.” Wedge spoke up. “We had four X-Wings we had to abandon because they needed repairs. A few transports, too. Plus plenty of building materials we could mine from the structures, if we aren’t planning on going back there in a permanent capacity.”

“It’s cold.” Leia said, unable to hide her smirk. “The team we’ll send will have to bundle up.”

Chewbacca volunteered himself, being more than equipped for the cold. Artoo would go, Threepio.

“Black Squadron can go to recover those ships, General.” Poe volunteered. “We’ll need some mechs to help us fix them up.”

“And some Jedi to dig them out of the snow.” Leia looked to the three, now four, of you, seated all in a row.

“Absolutely, General. Whatever you need.” You agreed, Poe’s eyes flicking to you and then away, a small smile all but concealed on those plush pink lips.

Leia finalized the team. Soren smiled when his name was thrown into the ring and agreed gladly to go. His first mission. But you knew he was ready for it. He’d trained for so long. He was confident with a saber, he was good at using his wings, and the Force was strong with him. He’d be fine. More than fine, if everything went smoothly. It would just be on you to make sure he didn’t freeze to death.

The higher-ups would notify the rest of their teams of their upcoming mission so they could pack warm enough clothes. Undershirts on undershirts, all the jackets that could be spared. Thick socks and scarves and knitted masks.

You left the meeting and started packing immediately, grabbing some warmer clothes from storage.

“Will you help me pack?” Rey asked, walking in there right after you.

“Absolutely. You’re a desert girl. The key to not dying on Hoth is layers and layers and layers. Heavy layers. The opposite of what you’re used to, I’m sure.” You said, and she nodded. 

Out in the heat, light layers that covered your skin were necessary to keep the sun off your back. On Hoth, the air itself was trying to kill you.

You helped her pick a few undershirts, warm leggings and snow pants and snow jackets. Gloves and hats and goggles, and then the two of them hauled it all back to your room to lay it all out for the morning.

“Would you mind terribly if I spent the night in here? We’re leaving so early tomorrow, I thought…” Rey asked. She looked around. “I can sleep on the floor.”

“Oh no, here.” You reached up above your bed and pulled the second bunk out of the wall, the bunk you never used.

Her face lit up. “Oh! I didn’t know they did that!”

“They never gave me a roommate, I’m assuming because they wanted me to adjust to…being alive again. But the bed has always been here. Ideal for sleepovers, one might say.”

“Excellent.” Her arms were wrapped around herself. “There’s…there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you about.”

“Yeah, sure, what’s on your mind?” You asked. You fully expected it to be about you and Poe. Compared to what it actually was, you kind of wished it was about Poe. It would have been easier.

Instead, she said, “I’ve…been connecting to Kylo Ren a lot. I keep having dreams about him and…sometimes when we’re awake, I can see him and he can see me. Never where we are, but…we’ve been connected for some time. I’m not sure why. I was wondering if it was normal, or…how to stop it if it’s not.”

“I’ve never heard of something like that before.” You admitted, very serious. “Luke and I were definitely connected, but not like that. Is he…mean to you? You get nightmares about him?”

“They’re not really nightmares, they’re just…we talk. He’s wanted me to join him. I obviously wouldn’t. He’s…”

“Right.”

She took a breath, thinking. “Do you ever…feel the pull to the dark side?”

There it was. Leia had told you, a long time ago, that this was something Rey struggled with. And obviously, Ben had as well, but he’d lost his fight.

“I think we all do, Rey. There’s nothing wrong with you. The Force isn’t just light or dark, it’s both. When we use the Force, we all open ourselves up to the temptation of the dark side, abilities locked to us, the secrets it promises to share. No person is completely good or completely evil. I think Luke was pretentious about that. But he had to be, his dad was Vader, you know? He and Palpatine were constantly trying to get in his head.” You said, letting her think for a moment before saying. “You’re my friend, Rey. I see the light in you, I always have. You’ve been through so much pain, but still cling to hope. That’s all we can do. One fight at a time, one morning at a time, letting the Force guide us.”

She smiled at that, reaching for your hand. You gave it to her. “Thank you.”

“Any time.” You nodded. “We have to get you a new saber soon. Finn, too. I was thinking about asking Leia after the Hoth trip. Seeing if there’s any way we could get our hands on one. Or some kyber crystals. Unfortunately, those things are not just lying around.”

“A new saber?”

“It’s a coming of age thing. Traditionally, you start training with an heirloom saber, but eventually, you should build your own, unique to you and your journey. There’s no rush to do so, but I feel like you’re ready. Soren, too.”

She nodded. “That would be nice.”

Your door slid open and Poe came in, staring at the two of you wide-eyed. You were just lucky he didn’t hit you with the standard greeting of, “hey, baby, I got a cut, can you kiss it better?” Would have been a little harder to explain away.

“Oh. Hi, ladies.” He said, looking back and forth between you.

“Poe, do you know my code?” You asked him, eyes narrowing.

“Might have picked it up at some point…” He admitted.

“You’re looking awful recovered for someone who had an estimated three weeks of recovery ahead of them.” Rey said, arms crossed. “How did that happen, anyway?”

“Don’t look at me, look at her.” Poe said, pointing at you.

“Turns out, I’ve got some stuff to teach you, actually.” You told her. “Luke left us some notes.”

She pointed to his face, looking at you, impressed. “You did that?”

“Can’t take credit for all of it, but yeah. The rest is just good genetics.”

“Heh, thanks, Princess. Anyways, the guys were thinking of having a little thing out at the cantina if our Jedi would like to make an appearance.” Poe said, which explained the patterned button-down he was wearing, top buttons unbuttoned just far enough to reveal the Mariposan healer’s amulet underneath. “Before we all go freeze our asses off on Hoth.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice.” You chuckled, looking to Rey. “You coming?”

“Yeah, absolutely.” She smiled. “We’ll see you down there.”

***

You and Poe made your appearance at the party, separated from each other, which was…odd to anyone who knew you. You made your rounds, having a drink or two, joking and laughing and catching up. You talked about the mission, figuring out who all was going. Aspen was, as it turned out. It would be one of her first field missions. Rose was going too, to help get the heating system working so you didn’t all freeze to death spending the night there. Chewbacca was going, too, which brought back memories to say the very least.

You played a few rounds of Space Pong, danced with Rey, and then caught Poe’s eyes. He was holding a bottle of wine, standing by the door, eyes saying everything his mouth could not from that distance.

You got the hint.

He slipped out the door first and you followed after a few minutes, claiming to want to get to sleep earlier for the busy day ahead. You gave Rey your room code and then left, walking out towards the clearing.

You looked around for any sign of him, out in the dark, but you didn’t see him. Just before you reached out to see if the Force could guide you to him instead, he jumped out from behind a tree, grabbing you around the waist and spinning you around.

A surprised squeal fell from your mouth and he kissed up your neck, shushing you.

“Gotta be quiet if you don’t wanna get caught, your Highness.” He murmured, kissing behind your ear, voice soft and sultry.

“Been a while since you’ve hit me with the your Highness, Commander.” You chuckled as he set you down. You turned to face him, one hand tugging him in for a kiss.

“I can use it more often, if you want.”

You shook your head. “No thank you. I much prefer the other names you call me.”

He grinned. “Like Princess?”

You laughed, giving his chest a playful push, nose scrunched. “I don’t like that one either.”

He perked up. “Wait, you seriously don’t like your titles?”

“Not particularly.” You admitted with a shrug.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” He asked, fingers sliding into their natural place, intertwined with your own.

“Well, it’s just…I mean, they’re practical when people are slinging titles around, I guess. General this and Admiral that. A ‘your Highness’ is fine there. But I like when people just call me (Y/N). And I like when you call me all sorts of things.” You said, wrapping an arm around his neck and pressing a kiss to his lips. “You can call me whatever you want, Poe. It always sounds right when you do it.”

His arm tentatively wrapped around your waist, still holding onto the wine bottle he’d snagged. “Well then, (Y/N), might I steal you away for the rest of the evening?”

“I’d be honored.”

The two of you walked up to the clearing together, hand in hand, swinging them between you as you stood beneath the stars. No wonder Poe loved flying so much. It looked like this all the time up there.

You sat on the grass, Poe beside you, leg against yours. He popped open the wine bottle and offered you the first sip. You almost giggled, tilting it back. You couldn’t count the times you’d been sitting just like that, sharing bottles with his mother. You had the same taste in wine, after all.

He took a drink from it next, setting it in the grass, twisting it a few times into the soft soil so it stood upright. He wrapped an arm around your waist, the other hand turning your face towards his, searching your eyes as though they held the keys to the universe.

He exhaled, staring at you like you were a painting in a museum and he was committing every detail to memory. “I’ve been fighting hard to keep the new recruits off of you.”

You giggled. “I heard about that. Apparently Jedi aren’t allowed to fall in love, huh?”

“Well, we’ll just have to hope that is a vicious rumor someone started.”

“Someone!” You laughed, pushing against his chest.

“Yeah, they must have gotten it wrong.” He said through a smile, arms grasping onto yours. “Because…this feels like that to me.”

He left the door open then, for you to say it in words. For him to say it back. And you did love him. Had for longer than you’d known. But saying it outright still felt wrong.

Instead, you replied, “I think we both know it is.”

He melted against you like a wave on the shore, sweet with the taste of the wine you were sharing, sip by sip. The two of you watched the sky for a while, sharing the wine until the bottle was nearly empty and the two of you were tipsy on the warm feelings swirling between you.

You barely noticed when the first raindrop fell. Nearly missed the second and third. But the downpour after was pretty hard to ignore.

“Maker, this came out of nowhere.” You said, wings flaring as you got to your feet. Poe stood beside you, eyes following a drop of water that trailed down your nose. “We should get back.”

“Wait,” Poe grabbed your arm, turning you towards him as he kissed you, his lips warm in the rain that was steadily soaking both of your clothes, your hair.

Your arms wandered up, hands linking around his neck as his wrapped around your waist, head tilting as a raindrop ran down the slope of his nose, onto your lips. You reached into his rain-soaked curls, grasping the collar of his jacket with the other hand. It was breathless, reckless, your heart racing in your chest flush with his as the lights of camp glowed in the distance.

Tomorrow, you’d be on a planet covered in feet of snow, but tonight, you stood in the warm rain, kissing Poe Dameron. There was no other place in the entire galaxy you’d rather be.

Eventually, you wandered back, held each other’s hands until you got close enough to get caught by whoever was on first watch. You nodded at acquaintances and coworkers, walking back to the housing quarters. Finn, Rey, and Rose were sitting in the front lounge when you came in, both absolutely soaked, head to toe.

“I thought you two came back here an hour ago.” Finn said, eyes narrowing.

“(Y/N) heard something outside. Concerning noises. I offered to go check it out with her, but we got caught in this kriffin’ downpour.” Poe said, taking off his jacket and shaking the water from it. He’d thought about letting you wear it for the walk back, but you were both already soaked. And you showing up in his jacket would only be more incriminating.

You shook our your wings in the same manner, water splattering across the floor. A cleaner droid powered up automatically, its brushes swirling to dry up the rain you’d tracked in. “Thanks for the help, Dameron.”

“No problem, yo–” he caught himself. “(Y/N). Glad to be of assistance. Have a good night.”

“You, too. See you tomorrow.” You said, walking back towards your quarters, Rey trailing after you, that knowing glimmer in her eye.

The two of you got dressed for bed, brushed your teeth, and got into your bunks, you on the bottom, Rey on the top. It was kind of comforting, the sound of her breathing. You’d missed having a roommate. Maybe after the trip, it wouldn’t hurt to open your door to a bunkmate again. But then that would severely limit your cuddling time with Poe, given that he also shared a room…

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes and willing yourself to sleep, lulled by the warmth in Poe’s chest across the hallway as he thought of you while he drifted off.

Hoth

The next morning, you and Rey got out of bed pretty early, throwing on the layers and layers of your cold weather uniforms. Jedi robes simply would not cut it on that planet. You’d learned that lesson once before.

You strapped your saber to your belt, a blaster to the other side, and set a pair of goggles on your head to protect your eyes once you got there. You met the others in the canteen to grab meals for the road, and then headed out to the transports, where the rest of the crew was slowly but surely assembling.

Soren was all smiles, helping Poe and Finn load up some boxes of supplies. Food, mostly. There was nearly nothing edible on that planet, aside from the wildlife, that was. But that would only be an option if the weather was nice enough to not immediately kill anyone brave enough to hunt out there. Nice being a relative term, of course.

“Ready for your first mission?”

“Yeah.” He replied, a boyish grin on his face. “Is it really that cold there?”

“Freezing cold. Constant blizzards. Trust me, you’d rather have too many layers than too few.” You advised. “Morning Finn! Poe.”

“You are looking rather…” Poe’s eyes scanned down your figure, obscured by the puffy jacket you were wearing. “Warm.”

“That’s one way to put it.” You chuckled. “You are not looking warm enough. Get those ears covered, Dameron.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He gave a nod, winking when he thought no one was looking.

Rose was coming along, Aspen, Black Squadron along with some of the new pilots. It would be a good mission for them, a relatively straightforward one. Well, in theory. Nothing was ever as simple as it seemed.

Chewbacca roared in greeting, his hand patting your head before he pulled you into a bear hug. You laughed, nodding.

“No, you’re right, I never thought I’d ever go back there either.”

Leia stood at the edge of the depot, smiling softly. She waved and you saluted, promising silently to get them all back to her in one piece, hopefully with endless bounties that would serve the Resistance well.

You and Soren said a quick, heartfelt goodbye to Laesynda and then loaded up into the transport with the others, watching as the planet got smaller and smaller.

You sat beside Rey and Soren on one side of the transport, Finn and Poe across the aisle with Snap. Chewbacca was driving, Threepio in the passenger seat up in front with him. You bent over and laced up your boots extra well, making sure your gloves were on tight enough, even though it was quite a ways out. Your wings twitched every so often, nerves building.

Suddenly, you weren’t so sure why would had suggested this place to begin with. You didn’t have many great memories of Hoth. Specifically, the outside stuff. Inside the base was fine, when the heaters were working as intended, that was. But the creatures outside were terrifying, and the weather had almost killed you. Literally.

Maybe you hadn’t prepared them well enough.

You felt Poe poking around your energy across the aisle, or trying to. Thinking very loudly. Reaching, watching. You met his eyes, giving him a pointed look.

He chuckled out loud, caught in the act, cheeks flushing red. Finn and Rey both turned to find out what was so funny. You focused your attention elsewhere and he blamed his chuckles on just how kriffing ridiculous you all looked, bundled up like marshmallows. It got a good laugh out of everyone.

Dread settled into your stomach as Chewie brought the transport out of lightspeed and into the planet’s atmosphere, the white globe familiar in the sickest of ways. He landed as close to the abandoned base as possible, but it would still be a bit of a walk.

You stood, taking a small canister from your pack while everyone bundled the rest of the way up. It was a specialty gel coating for your wings. You took a glob, gently rubbing between your fingers before spreading it carefully from the base of your wings outward. Soren did the same, making quick work of it.

“Can I help?” Poe asked, voice gentle, quiet, in case the answer was no because there were people around.

You nodded, handing the canister to him, showing him how to portion it and he helped, fingers gentle and careful, but thorough, grazing over the pink and purple extensions of your soul.

“What does this stuff do?” He asked, curious. He was always so curious about your wings. It was sweet, really.

“Protects them from the cold. Otherwise, they’d freeze.” You explained. “They’re delicate things, after all.”

“Beautiful, though.” He said, eyes warm, voice warmer.

“I happen to think they’re my best feature.” You said with a smirk, lost in him for a moment. His fingers gently finished up, fully sealing them from the harsh winds. You were ready.

You assembled the essential team. You, Rey, and Soren to move big chunks out of the way, and a handful of mechs to get the heating started as soon as possible. Plus, Chewbacca and a few fighters in case some scavengers were in the wreckage and didn’t take kindly to strangers.

“We’ll hold down the fort here.” Finn said, sticking an earpiece in his ear, same as the others.

“Good. Stay together. No one wanders off alone. Keep bundled up. Cover your skin. Even a few minutes out there can give you frostbite.” You instructed everyone. They nodded, listening intently.

“Good luck out there.” Snap said. He smiled a little, watching as you took control of the situation. Despite your appearance, you were wise and experienced beyond your years. “And may the Force be with you.”

You met his eyes. “And with us all.”

You led the others through the snow and blistering winds, face shielded by your mask, hood, and goggles.

The doors were sealed shut, thankfully. You held up a hand, working in tandem with Rey and Soren to pop it open without too much trouble. Three Jedi were far better than one. You could only imagine the things you’d be able to accomplish when Finn was with you, too.

Inside, a ceiling panel had collapsed, a great rush of snow covering a stairwell and one of the hallways leading to the bedrooms. You led the mechs to the utility room, where the controls for the heaters were while Rey and Soren worked to seal off the hole, holding the metal in place so it could be sautered shut, at least temporarily.

Chewbacca did a sweep of the perimeter, as quickly as he could, blocking off a decent chunk so you could get settled at least for now. You didn’t want to leave the rest of the team in the transport for too long.

With a triumphant thrum, the power kicked on, lights in the hallways flickering before illuminating the place in the stark, fluorescent lights. The team cheered, signaling to the others that it was safe to come in. And they did, marching up the hill in their snow boots. They’d have to try to move the transport closer later, you figured. Otherwise, loading the place up was going to be nearly impossible.

You walked down the hallway with the bedroom quarters, taking note of their state. Most of them looked fine. Dusty, but fine otherwise. You kept walking until you found the one you were looking for. Seventh room on the left. You punched in your code, still committed to muscle memory after three months spent sleeping there.

You stepped inside, careful, and looked around the room. It wasn’t terribly small, one of the perks of having a base dug into the inside of a mountain. Two bunks rested against the right side of the room, a small desk on the left, a wardrobe standing beside it. A few pairs of boots were sitting beside the door, under the floor-length mirror that was slowly defrosting as the temperature raised.

A book of notes sat open on the desk, a frozen inkwell perched on the corner in front of a few dust-covered books.

“This is quite the place.” Poe noted, stepping into the tiny room after you. “Bigger than I thought it would be.”

“Took the crew three years to dig it out.” You remembered, fingers lingering on the cold desk. “I only lived here for three months.”

“Is this…?”

“Our room.” You said, turning to look at him. “Shara and I.”

He’d taken off his goggles, the headband around his head. You dared to take off a glove. It was definitely warming up, slowly but surely. You shed your goggles too, threading the band through your belt.

He stared at the bottom bunk, where his mother’s name was painted in blue, the Aurebesh crisp and neat. His fingers slid across the letters.

You turned back to the desk, flipping through the journal. They were notes, mostly. Your notes, from your Jedi training. “I forgot about this book. It would have helped after Luke left.”

“Luke left you? Another time?”

“He went off to Dagobah to train with Yoda. I stayed with the Resistance–sorry, Rebels. They needed me. Or one of us, at the very least. Han and Leia were off dealing with…all sorts of stuff. I didn’t catch up with them until it was too late.” You said, continuing to flip through it until you found what you were looking for. Tucked between the pages was a scrap of paper Shara had scribbled on.

(Y/N),

Thanks for letting me borrow your earrings. Please get some sleep after that crazy night. I’ll save you some bacon before the pathfinders get to it.

-Shara

In the note, there were two small holes, where she’d punctured the earrings to make sure they got back to you in one piece.

You handed it to Poe, letting him read it. He smiled, eyes swirled with nostalgia and sadness. He forgot sometimes, but this was all the confirmation he needed. You had been friends with her. Passed notes back and forth like schoolgirls.

“Can I keep this?” He asked.

You nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

He reached for you, pulling you to his chest and resting his head against yours. It healed something in him, he was sure. Part of him, growing up without her, always mourned the fact that he would never get to introduce his future partner to her, the woman who had inspired him to fly in the first place, the woman whose ring he wore around his neck. But you’d already met her. And it was clear she’d been fond of you. It felt like fate, to him.

“Was Dad here, too?”

“Down the hall.” You nodded. “Three doors down on the left.”

“You two taking this one?” Finn asked, poking into the room. “We’re all picking quarters for the night.”

“Yeah, we’ll take this one.” Poe said, pointing to your name painted across the top bunk. “I’d say she’s probably got dibs.”

Finn smiled. “Fair.” His eyes wandered to the bottom bunk. “Who’s that?”

“My mom was her roommate.” Poe explained, eyes twinkling.

“I didn’t know your parents were Resistance.”

“They were Rebels.” Poe corrected gently. He nudged you with his arm, pride absolutely radiating off of him. “So was she.”

***

After hours of harvesting materials and packing up supplies into crates, Chewie had taken some of the others to hunt, most of them crazy thrillseekers that were desperate to experience the cold out there and see if it was really that bad. Rookies, in other words.

They were successful. They’d found a mammal of some kind. Nothing you recognized. Definitely not a Wampa. And everyone seemed to be okay, more or less.

“It’s kriffing cold as shit out there!” One of the rookies exclaimed, taking off their gloves.

“Nooooo, I never would have guessed.” You said quietly, nursing a cup of tea near the firepit in one of the lounges. There was a furnace that ran up through the mountain to vent the smoke.

Chewie got the beast ready, showing the rookies how to prepare the meat, how to cook it properly. You watched fondly. It brought back memories, it all did.

You’d finally taken off your jacket, just wearing a pair of sweats with a layer of leggings underneath, a sweater with a hole stitched in the back for your wings. You were working on another top by the fire, pulling the needle through, hemming the hole so it wouldn’t fray.

“What are you doing?” Finn asked, watching as you worked.

“Most of my clothes have to be modified like this for these things.” You waved a wing around aimlessly. “If I don’t, the fabric will fray and it’ll ruin the garment. I usually hem it as best as I can to reinforce it.”

“They don’t really make clothes for us anymore.” Soren said, familiar with the process, you were sure, having a pair of wings of his own. “Mom said there were seamstresses on Mariposas who made the most beautiful things we could wear with our wings. She still has some of them.”

“They were the coolest ladies ever. They’re the ones who taught me to do this. Knew I was gonna run off with the Rebellion and that most of their uniforms wouldn’t work for me.” You said, tying off the stitches with a little knot. You showed your work to Poe, who was sitting just too far, a few scooches to your right. You’d sewn a little X-Wing near the base of the slot, orange stitches on black fabric.

He smiled into his mug of warm caf, eyebrow quirking up the tiniest bit. You were his girl, after all. His chest swelled with pride at any reminder.

You set the garment to the side, following the others once Chewie was dishing out servings of food. Everyone settled in with a hot meal, like old times.

“What was it like out here back then?” Snap asked, everyone watching you and Chewie for answers. “What did you guys do out here for those months?”

“Hiding, mostly. It was the perfect base for that. The Empire never thought they’d find us on an oversized ice cube. It’s mostly uninhabitable, as many of you just learned. Signal was iffy out here, but we worked with what we had. We used to make what we called Hoth Ice Cream. We’d mix the cream from our milk batches with sugar and crushed berries and stick it outside for a few minutes until it froze.”

Chewie roared, explaining just how little you had to work with. How far your scraps had to stretch.

“Oh we were always scrappy. Had to be, we had so little. These days, we’ve got some support. Back then…no one wanted to stand up to Vader. Rebels were few and far between and we had a pretty bad reputation. I believe the word ‘Scum’ got thrown around a lot.”

Chewie laughed, nodding. He told a few stories about the tauntauns, about Luke’s encounter with the Wompa, wondering if there were more of them.

“I nearly froze to death out there.” You confessed, feeling the way Poe’s eyes jumped to you. “One of our communication dishes got caked in ice, so I flew up there to try to dig it out. Wind blew me off the roof and Chewie found me out in the snow, half dead. Carried me back, cuddled me to warmth. Saved my life.”

He roared affectionately, tilting his head.

“Of course I would have done the same for you, but I’m not nearly as warm as you. I don’t think my body temperature alone would have done much.” You chuckled.

He joked about you using your wings as a fan the next time he was really hot, and you agreed to that.

You told them about the music. At some point, you’d let it slip to the Rebels that music was a very important part of Mariposan culture, so the team had improvised instruments out of scraps. Drums made from scrapped ship parts and pieces of leather Chewie tanned, flutes carved from thick pine tree branches. You got up and dug around a box in the corner of the room, pulling one out. Hand-carved.

“One of the pathfinders made this for me.” You said, walking back to your spot and sitting down, dusting it off, brushing the mouthpiece with your sleeve before giving it a cursory test. It worked, making a gentle note when you blew into it. You tested some of the finger holes, trying out different combinations and building a clumsy little melody from home.

The room was quiet, listening as you played. You smiled, bashful beneath their combined gazes, and tucked the flute away.

Artoo beeped and rolled into the middle of the room, BB-8 watching from his corner. Into the air, he projected a video, Rebels singing and dancing to folk songs from their various home planets. Drums banging, someone hitting spoons against pots and pans. Flutes and improvised fiddles. Light and laughter.

In the back corner of the room, you and Luke danced, lost in each other. He spun you around, pulling you back to him. He looked so young there.

Shara was sitting next to Kes, who was drumming on one of the drums. He got boisterous with it, making Shara laugh, a melody in itself. Glimmering around her finger was the ring Poe wore around his neck.

He reached for your hand and you gave it to him, watching this piece of your life Artoo had been holding onto for all this time. You wondered what else he had stored in that seemingly endless memory of his. 

Poe’s thumb brushed over yours, and he used his foot to tug your chair closer to his, unwilling to be apart from you any longer, despite what the others would think. It seemed none of them noticed, or maybe they thought it was par for the course at that point. Poe had never been shy about touching you, or anybody, really, even before you had been dating in secret.

He smiled at you, eyes soft. And for a moment, you were glad you’d come. You were glad he was there with you.

Eventually, the guys found the alcohol that hadn’t exploded after thirty years frozen and the room cheered up significantly.

Rose motioned you over and you sat on the floor in front of her while she braided your hair. Rey shared a cup of something strong with you and you took a few sips, leaning back against Rose’s legs.

“Hey, when did you get this?” Rey asked, touching the woven leather bracelet on your wrist. “Is it new? I’ve never seen it before.”

“Oh! Yeah, uh…Poe got it for me.” You smiled.

“Poe got it for you, huh?” Rose asked. “That was nice of him. I didn’t realize you two were so close.”

“Yeah, we’ve really bonded since I woke up.” You said with a smile and a shrug, glancing over at him. “We keep…finding each other.”

He was knelt on the floor in front of Artoo, talking to him about something. You assumed he was probably trying to get a copy of that footage. You didn’t blame him. Droids, though pretty common, were still not something everyone had, especially back then. Artoo was probably one of the only droids with footage of his parents.

The other pilots started up a game of Truth or Dare, and it worked around and around the circle. You giggled at the antics, at the spicy secrets people spilled with their resolve weakened by liquid courage. Yours was dwindling, too. You were one well-placed dare away from kissing Poe Dameron hot on the mouth, right in front of everyone.

You supposed it was good luck, then, that he was the one asking you that fateful question.

“Truth.” You replied, knees tucked into your chest, hair braided down your shoulders like you were a teen at a sleepover. In some ways, you guessed you were.

“Why don’t you like it when people use your royal titles?” He asked, eyebrow quirking up in that signature expression of his. That Dameron smolder. He had used it to get the upper hand on many unsuspecting maidens, you were sure. It always did something to you.

“Mmmm, alright.” You thought, chuckling. “Poe, you can ask me any question in the galaxy right now, are you sure you want to waste it on that?”

“Yep. I want to know.” He shrugged, leaning back in his chair, sitting across the circle from you, painfully far away. This drunk, you wanted him next to you. Another drink and you’d be sprawled all over him, didn’t matter who was watching. “Why do you squirm every time someone calls you Princess?”

“Princess isn’t the worst. I don’t mind that one so much.” You said. “I don’t like the ‘your Highnesses.’ They just…maybe it’s stupid, I don’t know, but…everyone on base earned their titles. Everyone. Every general and admiral and captain and commander, all of ‘em. They all earned those fancy words and I did not. I was born a special person and got my titles handed to me on a silver platter. It feels like stolen valor. Even Leia’s a general now, and…yeah, that’s kind of it. Just feels icky sometimes.”

“You’ve earned them.” Finn said, eyes serious. “You’ve more than earned them.”

“You’re too kind, Finnley.” You replied, a hand on your heart.

“Finnley…” Finn chuckled to himself at the elongated name.

“No, he’s right. That first day I saw you in action, I knew you were the real deal.” Snap said, sounding impressed. Really, genuinely impressed. “All the stories started to make sense, the way you flipped through the air.”

“A Jedi of old…” Jessika agreed, Rey nodding along.

“And you wear those little crowns sometimes. Princesses usually wear those.” Aspen added, sitting beneath one of Chewbacca’s fur-covered arms, cuddled against his side.

You laughed at that one. “Valid point. I don’t know, I’m warming up to them. But you all can call me (Y/N), also. We’re friends.”

“Mom wanted to work titles out with you after the war.” Soren said. “She’s…well, she’s acting queen now, but technically–”

“Oh no I do not want to be queen.” You shut that down, holding up your hand. “That’s where the line is drawn. I was second-born. I was never supposed to be queen in the first place and then I died. Your mother earned that title. She’s been here, boots on the ground, helping the remaining Mariposans. She’s the queen and I’ll tell her that myself, Prince Soren.”

He grinned. “Why did I have a feeling you’d say something like that?”

“Because you know me so well, dearest nephew. Now, where were we…ah, yes, Rey, truth or dare?”

She smiled. “It’s going to have to be dare.”

The game continued until the group began to dwindle, retiring for bed one by one. Chewbacca put out the fire and the heaters were turned down slightly to conserve power overnight. If you guys blew a fuse, you were fucked. Heat was a commodity that could not be wasted on a planet like Hoth.

You walked back to the room before Poe did, tossing an extra blanket up to your top bunk. The beds here were smaller than your bunk back home. If you and Poe had a tight fit in the other bed, this would be near impossible. For that reason, you’d probably sleep separate.

You climbed up top, as you had done so many times, and sat up there, scrolling through your holo, making plans for the next day. It was a big one. X-Wing repair was the big ticket thing, unburying them from the snow that had drifted into the hangar. Everyone else would be working on packing up everything that wasn’t nailed down, and, well, some of the stuff that was nailed down.

The door slid open and Poe walked in, kicking off his boots while BB-8 rolled onto his charging mat. Finn peeked in after them.

“Goodnight, (Y/N)!”

“Night, Finn! See you tomorrow.” You said with a smile.

“Bright and early.” Poe added with a grin.

The door slid shut and he walked right over to the bunk bed, standing in front of you, expectant. Poe was not an overly tall individual, so his head cleared the top, but nothing else.

You raised an eyebrow. “Can I help you with something?”

“You want me up top or are you coming down here?”

“I don’t know if you’ve seen these beds with your eyes, but…they are pretty small, flyboy.”

“We’ve managed worse.” He grinned, resting his arms on the railing, looking up at you with those pretty brown eyes, eyelashes oh so dark and beautiful. “Won’t you get cold up there all by yourself?”

You laughed. “I think I’ll be okay.”

“Well in that case, goodnight. I’ll see you in the morning.” He leaned forward.

You took his face in your hands, kissing him deeply. He crooned at your touch, standing on his toes to chase your lips before finally pulling away and tucking into his mother’s bunk on the bottom.

***

About an hour later, the lack of heat really started to make itself evident. You weren’t sure what Rose had set it to for the night, but whatever it was had your toes freezing and teeth chattering.

Wordlessly, Poe got out of his bed, the fabric rustling in the bunk beneath you, and stood, his head clearing the top so you were nearly face to face. He waited expectantly for you to break the silence, to admit he was right.

“Alright, get in here.” You relented, lifting the covers.

He tossed his blanket up first and then climbed in after you, the tight quarters causing every piece of his body to be touching every part of yours. Talk about cozy. It made the X-Wing cockpit look like a five-star hotel room.

He laughed softly. “You were right. It is gonna be a tight fit.”

“And you were right about it being too cold.” You said, voice rasped with sleep.

“Here, let me…” He wiggled the two of you into a better position, him almost entirely beneath you, broad shoulders still boxed into the narrow bunk. He wrapped a warm arm around your waist, legs intertwined.

You adjusted the third blanket atop the two of you, wings tucked under, and then settled back on top of him, letting out a long, contented sigh at the warmth. “You comfortable?”

“Mmhmm.” He hummed, unable to stop smiling at you, oh so close to him. “Can you imagine if we really weren’t seeing each other and the others found us like this?”

“We’d never hear the end of it.” You laughed at the thought. “You guys, seriously, we were both just cold.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I really thought I could hold out. Not say anything until after the war was over. Find you in the crowd after whatever final battle, confess it all then and there. All romantic and heroic. And we’d kiss and the crowd would cheer and we’d fly in my X-Wing, off into the sunset with BB-8 in the back seat.”

You huffed a laugh. “Had it all planned out, huh?”

“This is better, though.” He admitted, thumb circling your hipbone.

“It’s a good thing I didn’t let you make the first move, like I was planning.” You said, tilting your head up to kiss the corner of his lips. “Saved us both a lot of pining and heartache.”

“To be fair, I was going to make a move during our little joyride that never happened.” Poe said. “I know it was kind of a joke, that it was a date, but it was real to me.”

“It was real to me, too.” You murmured, nose pressed against his cheek. “I could feel it coming. I knew you had feelings for me. But, of course, Kylo Ren has the worst timing in the galaxy.”

“Seriously. Fuck that guy.”

“Agreed.” Your fingers curled against his chest, his heartbeat steady and strong. You leaned up and pressed a soft, sleepy kiss to his lips, eyelids growing heavy, aided by the gentle lulling of his warmth. He was always warm. You had never been more grateful for it than now.

He smiled, skin moving beneath your lips. He rocked you gently, voice sleepy and playful. “You driftin’?”

“Mmm…” You nodded against him. “Getting there.”

“Good. Get some sleep, baby. Maker knows we’ll need it. Someone’s gotta use the Force to dig out those X-Wings tomorrow and it’s not gonna be me.”

Looking Forward, Looking Back

BB-8’s chirping alarm woke the two of you in the absence of sunlight. There were no windows in your room, being carved into a mountain and all. Your face was pressed into the crook of Poe’s neck, warmth encasing you, his dark curls tousled and fluffy.

He groaned softly, skin vibrating against yours. You kissed his cheek, long and gentle, a silent greeting. The groan melted into something else, then, as if he remembered you were perched there on top of him, like a wonky weighted blanket.

“Maker, what a way to wake up.” He murmured, nose brushing against yours on the way to your lips. “Can we do this every morning?”

“You’d have to break the news to Finn that you don’t want to be roommates anymore.” You reasoned, finding his hand and threading your fingers through his.

He hummed, thinking it over. “Well, you could come stay in our room.”

You laughed out loud. “Three is company. Might get a little too cozy in there.”

“Yeah…Well…we can negotiate.”

“Sure, I’ll let you pitch that one to him. And Bee can have my room all to himself.”

BB-8 chirped in approval, which made you laugh.

“How the hell are we going to get out of this bed?” Poe wondered, taking stock of the two of you, packed in like sardines.

“Carefully.” You giggled, trying to sit up. “Your specialty, flyboy.”

Poe used the railing to tug himself upright and you reached into his messy curls, gently combing them with your fingers into some sense of order. He grinned at you, eyes twinkling in the dim room, leaning forward and capturing your lips, like you were his first meal of the day.

Eventually, you pulled apart, peppering kisses across his cheeks. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Never could, but especially when you had moments alone like this.

“Poe.” You said, giggling as he reconnected his lips to yours, rhythm smooth and slow, but steady.

“What?”

“We’ve gotta go.” You murmured against him as the kisses continued.

“Mmhmm.” He nipped at your bottom lip, hand framing your cheek, keeping your face close to his. “Give me a minute. I’m busy.”

You laughed, hands resting on his chest as he deepened the kiss. Warmth tumbled from him onto you. Someday, you’d get a real vacation. A getaway. Once the galaxy was at peace again, and the First Order had been destroyed.

But now, you had work to do. A lot of it, before you could head back to base.

“Come on, hotshot. The sooner we get this done, the more time we can spend doing this in a bed that doesn’t completely box in those shoulders of yours.”

“Now that’s a good point.” He grinned, brushing the hair out of your eyes while pulling you in for one last kiss.

You flexed your wings as best you could in the limited space and flipped down over the railing, giving him room to get down.

You swapped out your layers, bundling up all over again. Undershirts, shirt, jacket, coat, plus your headwear, gloves tucked into your pockets. You laced up your boots and followed Poe out to the mess hall, where Chewbacca was serving leftovers from the day before for breakfast.

After, you, Soren, and Rey followed the pilots and mechs out to the hangar, assessing the damage. Wedge had been right. Four X-Wings. Unfortunately, the hangar doors had been left open, letting in thirty years of snow and ice.

First order of business, you did a sweep to make sure there weren’t any scavengers or creatures hiding out inside. Then you reached up, using the Force to pull the massive hangar door shut. The metal creaked and rumbled, dust falling from the mechanism as it lowered into place, enclosing the space in total darkness.

Rey reached for her saber, the blue lighting up the dark. Soren lit his after, and then you, Poe’s face awash in the pink hue, wonder in his eyes. Someone found the lightswitch and the overheads flickered a few times before kicking on. You powered down your saber and approached the nearest X-Wing, not nearly as buried as the ones closer to the opening.

“What’s your professional opinion, Commander?” You asked, arms crossed, looking it over. “Where do you want me to start?”

“Well, the wings would be a good spot, probably. The engines. We’re gonna have to pop her open to see if her parts still work.”

“Alright. Everybody stand back.” You advised, taking a few steps further from it yourself. You focused on the ice, using the Force to crack it into smaller pieces that could be pulled off of it. Then, you lifted the X-Wing into the air, straining to do so from the sheer weight of it alone. Rey joined, taking some of the pressure off, and you two set it atop the layer of snow on the ground, so they could get to it easier.

You all repeated this process for the following three X-Wings, getting them uncovered in record time. The pilots and mechs set to work, trying to see what all was in working order, what needed to be fixed or replaced. Wedge had given them the records he had from the olden days, but it was hard to tell what was still accurate.

In the meantime, you turned your attention to helping the demo crew scrap some of the internal walls and structures that were not lodebearing. Shelves, furniture, cabinets, that kind of thing.

Chewie led the crew, pointing things out, directing the rookies where they needed to be. Threepio translated for him as necessary and you used the Force to take some pieces down.

You fluttered higher, using your wings to help empty some of the higher shelves, taking them down one screw at a time.

Snap and Chewie went out into the snow to move the Transport closer. It would help, no doubt, as you all started to move things.

You and Rey went through the closets of each room to see if there were any stray blasters sitting around, uniforms that weren’t too outdated, even decent walking boots, taking anything that was useful and putting it in a wagon.

It was a productive day. At the end of it, you all had another dinner. It would be your last night there, if everything went to plan. The X-Wings seemed to be in working order. They’d run a brief test, and then take off first, escorting the transports to safety. There’d been one in the hangar as well, that some of the mechs had fixed up without too much trouble.

Weather seemed good for it, too. Any longer than that and you all risked getting stranded in a blizzard. Well, more of a blizzard than what was already raging outside those doors.

The evening was quiet. Everyone was tired from a long day of work. Carrying things, moving cargo, packing, and loading things until it was all ready to go. You sat on the floor in the mess hall, head leaned on Rey’s shoulder, Rose’s legs spread over yours.

You fiddled with the bracelet around your wrist, a small smile tugging at your lips when Poe made eye contact from across the room. His eyes wandered to the bracelet and he grinned, proud. He was sitting with Soren and Finn, talking about something with some of the other pilots.

Jessika came over and sat with you. In the corner of the room, Snap and Karé were talking, awfully close to each other. Touches lingering. Jess traced your gaze and said, “Oh, did you not know? Snap and Karé are married.”

“Huh? I did not know that. Wow.” You processed the information. It was like learning Wedge was Snap’s step-dad all over again. There was more to Snap then you thought, perhaps. Maybe a nice long conversation with him was in order. “They’re good together.”

Poe walked over, taking a seat beside you. He elbowed you lightly, smiling. You could tell he was starting to wind down, looking a little tired. “What are we talking about, ladies?”

“I just learned that Snap and Karé are married.”

“Oh! Yeah, yeah, they’re great together.” Poe grinned.

Jessika chuckled. “Yeah, they are. You ever…dated someone on base?”

“Yeah.” You admitted. “I’m no stranger to wartime romance.”

“She and Luke were…” Rey began to explain, letting Jessika fill in the blanks. “You know.”

“I did not know.” Jessika said, eyes wide. “Wow…that’s really…”

“Yeah, I know.” You shrugged. You felt Poe’s eyes on you, the way his chest began to burn. A twinge of jealousy hidden behind that famed Dameron smirk. “But, uh, I’m not completely closed off to dating this time around. I’m fifty-four, not eighty.”

“You look great for your age, Princess.” Poe complimented, eyes sparkling. He raised an eyebrow, voice dipping into mischief territory. “That mean I’ve got a shot?”

You laughed, heart racing at the look in his eye. “I dunno. Trigger-happy flyboys are not my usual type, but…never say never.”

“Keeping your options open?” Rose asked. “I know about twelve rookies who would die for the chance.”

“Oh I know. Been fighting them off with this saber of mine.” You chuckled. “They’re determined, I’ll give ‘em, that, but…”

“She’s already got a crush on someone.” Poe said, forcing his tone to be casual. “Doesn’t want to hurt their feelings.”

“We’ll go with that, yeah.” You agreed, letting out a yawn that Poe mirrored not long after.

The two of you decided to head to bed, exhausted. You bid the others goodbye and led him down the winding hallways, back to your shared room. The door opened with a whir and you stepped inside, BB-8 rolling into his corner.

Poe turned you to face him, hand tilting your face up towards his and kissing you, slowly. Sensually. Every movement was deliberate and careful. His tongue swiped at the edge of your lip, the other hand tugging your waist impossibly close, chest flush to his.

“Trigger-happy flyboy, eh?” He asked between kisses, teeth nipping at your lip as your arms latched around him, fingers toying with the curls at the base of his neck.

“Yeah. Might even have a crush on him.” You murmured, echoing his words.

“You drive me crazy.” Poe rasped, movements picking up speed, momentum, like an X-Wing headed towards a crash. Inevitable.

You smiled against him, meeting his gaze with starlit eyes. “I know.”

“Go to sleep, Bee. I don’t want you to see this.” He said, a rasp at the edge of his voice, sending a shot of electricity straight through you.

You heard BB-8 power down for the night. Poe wasted no time hooking your knees with his strong hands, tugging your legs up onto his hips and carrying you to the top bunk. You tore your boots off, chucking them across the room with a noisy thud as he climbed up the ladder, throwing his shoes off after. He pulled you on top of him, as you had been the night before, but this time, his hands were everywhere, lips exploring yours. He tugged your knee higher, moaning into your mouth as you played with his hair, giving his thick curls a gentle tug.

He kissed you eagerly, like he’d been waiting for it all day. You knew that was the case. You slotted a leg between his, leaning on his chest. Your other hand stayed anchored to his jaw, thumb brushing through the scruff on his cheek, a little longer than he usually let it get. It suited him, though. All of it did.

You let yourself imagine him a little older. Some gray in his hair, in his beard. Curls a little longer. Maybe he’d need reading glasses. You smiled at the thought, kissing him again, deeper, cherishing the little chuckle he let out when you did.

It sank in then that you wanted to grow old with him, and you were struck by the thought, movements slowing.

Life after the war was already a fantasy to you, but you never let yourself see the life you wanted. Those years of peace after. You’d had two of them, only to have it all ripped away from you, to be frozen at twenty-four for thirty years. But this time, you knew it was different. This time, you would get to stay.

So you let your mind wander. Guided by the Force or your own desires, you weren’t sure. But you saw him there, in casual wear, a few more years on that handsome face. A wedding ring on his finger. Lines that crinkled around those warm eyes. He laughed at something, the sound like music to you. You loved it. Loved him.

Poe could feel it when you slipped. Always could. That lull that hit you when you were zoned in, or zoned out rather. He held you, kisses slowing to a stop, watching, waiting for you to come back to him, for the Force to set you back in his arms.

It was strange, loving a Jedi. But he loved every second. Loved you.

“You’re having some big thoughts tonight.” He finally murmured, voice impossibly soft, like said thoughts were made of glass. You were back now, thumb stroking his cheek again. Breaths back to their regular cadence.

“Yeah.” Your voice broke, tears welling in your eyes.

His eyebrows furrowed. “Oh, hey, it’s okay. What’s goin’ on in that pretty head?”

“Nothing.” You chuckled, shaking your head. “I just…I…”

“You don’t have to tell me.” He handed you a boundary if you so wanted it.

“I just saw…you. After the war. Older and happy. And it just…got to me, I guess.” You admitted, a tear slipping down your cheek.

“A vision?”

“I hope so.” You shrugged, hand resting on his chest, smoothing out the fabric of his undershirt. Back home, he didn’t wear one to sleep, usually. On Hoth, the extra layer was necessary.

He wiped at your tears with his gentle thumbs, pulling you in for a long kiss. “I want that, too. But only if you’re there with me. A little gray in this pretty hair of yours. Not as much as me, of course. I am eight whole years older than you.”

You laughed through tears, surging forward to kiss him again.

“You want kids? We’ve never talked about it.” He asked, playing with your hair with one hand, the other brushing down the length of your wing. You rested your head on his chest, ear pressed to his heart.

“I do. Some little Jedi. One little pilot.”

He kissed your forehead, lips curled into a smile. “They’ll get my curls and your eyes. Big, beautiful wings like their mother.”

“I hope so.” You smiled, staring at him, eyes memorizing his face, just like this. You nuzzled your nose against his, melting against his lips. “I want it, Poe. So bad. I want to…get to live my life this time.”

“You will.” He promised, eyes serious, twinkling like stars. He took your hand and kissed each of your knuckles, lingering just a little longer on the ring finger, where someday, he’d slide his mother’s ring.

***

The next morning, last checks were performed. Threepio went over inventory, and Chewbacca did a final sweep, making sure everything and everyone was accounted for before you all started loading up into the transports and the four repaired X-Wings.

Poe walked over to you, both of you bundled up, though him less than you. You were headed to the same place, would be in ships side by side, but it was still a loaded goodbye building between the two of you, especially after the conversation you’d had the night before.

“You good to go, Commander?”

“All set, your Highness.” He replied, voice cradling the word so carefully. You didn’t mind it so much when he said it. “See you on the other side.”

You took a step closer. “See you at home.”

His face broke out into that flyboy grin, like he’d just won the lottery.

You walked through the base with the others who would be taking the transport out front, the one you’d arrived in. But before you got onto the ramp, you saw them. First Order soldiers on the ground, a shrouded figure leading them.

Your instinct said Kylo, but your heart knew it wasn’t.

TIE fighters flew overhead.

“Poe, we’ve got First Order fighters in the air. Troops on the ground.” Finn said into his earpiece.

You stared ahead as they approached, reaching for your saber, Soren beside you. Neither of you had coated your wings. Hadn’t expected to be outside for longer than a minute. There was no time to do it now.

You launched yourself forward, igniting your saber mid-air as giant snowflakes fell. Stormtrooper fire resounded, beams of red bouncing towards the handful of Resistance members there. You used your saber to take out as many as you could before confronting the man in the hood.

It wasn’t Kylo Ren. He was wearing a mask, but it was different. He raised a hand, trying to disarm your saber and failing.

“After all these years, I was hoping you’d died in that pod, dear princess.” The voice that came out of him said. Muffled, distorted like Kylo’s, but not Kylo.

“You’re gonna wish I did.” You breathed, giving your saber a twirl.

He unveiled his own, a dual bladed red saber, the blade unstable like Kylo’s, but familiar to you. You knew this saber. This saber knew you.

A chill ran up your spine and you launched into attack, deflecting hits from both ends of the staff-like weapon. Soren joined you, his movements careful. Scared. This was his first fight with anyone who intended to harm him.

The X-Wings cruised around the mountain, taking out a handful of TIEs in their sweep through the air. The second transport came around as well, Rey emerging from within, saber at the ready.

The hooded man took note of Soren’s posture, his nervous energy, and targeted him instead, leaving you the task of not only fighting whoever this was, but protecting your nephew. You used the Force to push Soren back, just out of the range of the glowing red saber, a swipe that would have taken his life.

The edge of the blade sliced your upper arm. You tried to flex your wings, to use them as landing gear as you had so many times, but the cold had rendered them nearly useless, hanging down prone, getting number by the second. But the numbness was giving way to prickling pain. You weren’t sure which was worse.

You yelled out, grasping at the smoking wound, the saber’s heat cauterizing the blood.

“(Y/N)!” Rey yelled out.

You stood, bracing yourself on a snowbank, fire in your eyes despite the raging blizzard.

The man went for Soren again, but this time you put yourself between the two, your saber sparking against the aggressive red of his.

“Lord Mothim, we’re taking heavy losses!” One of the Stormtroopers relayed, giving him pause, but not halting his attack.

Lord Mothim. The one Kylo had mentioned on the one occasion you’d met him.

“We will fight until they are dead. No surrender.” He said, countering a move, twirling the saber with grace.

He lunged at your nephew, but you reached forward, using the Force to pull back his cape, throwing him off balance and revealing what you already knew. This Mothim was Maddox. You would recognize your brother’s wings anywhere. Orange with a tinge of red at the ends. Fitting colors for a Sith.

You threw your saber, calling it back to you, straight through the exposed wings, slicing them off and watching as they fluttered to the ground. The cruelest thing you could do to a Mariposan. The thing that the very saber in his hand had done to your own, you realized, finally putting the pieces together. The saber was made of Insidia’s blades, merged together.

He let out a cry, collapsing to his knees, the shockwave of Force energy knocking everyone, including yourself, back in a wave. You soared through the air, unable to control your momentum.

The back of your head hit against a snow-covered pine and everything went blurry.

You watched, nearly out of body, as the First Order retreated, a pair of Stormtroopers grabbing Mothim and leaving. Soren ran over to where you were laying, fear flashing over his features.

“Aunt (Y/N)? Are you okay?”

“Mmhmm.” You gave a thumbs-up, pushing yourself upright. The last First Order transport pulled out of orbit. The X-Wings shot, but it was already gone.

Rey ran over, giving you her arm and pulling you to your feet. “Who was that?”

“My brother.” You exhaled, breaths ragged. “Maddox. Lando was right.”

You stared at the pieces of his wings you’d severed off, being steadily buried by the snow. Your stomach sank with the weight of what you’d done. Exploited his greatest weakness, hurt him in the way that had ended your life all those years ago. Yet, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to feel bad about it.

The X-Wings swooped in for a landing and Poe sprinted across the field, nearly tripping over his own feet on his way to get to you. His gloved hand reached out, stopping short of the blackened, burned slash through your jacket, across your arm.

“You okay? We alright? What’s the move?” He asked, counting heads while reaching out for your hand.

You gave it to him, squeezing his.

“We need to get back before the weather gets worse.” You said, laser-focused on getting off the planet. “Get everyone back in the transports and get the hell out of here.”

Finn nodded, turning to start corralling people back into the transports. You started walking towards one with the others, but Poe didn’t let go of your hand, eyes meeting yours, his energy…fraught.

“I’m going with Poe.” You told Rey, not even stopping to think about the logistics of it, how it would look to the others. You didn’t care. That look on his face…whatever was going on in his head, he needed you.

She nodded, not fighting you on the matter. Poe climbed up into his X-Wing, helping you in behind him. It was a smaller cockpit than the newer models, but the controls looked nearly the same. To you, anyway, from what you could remember about your one other time inside one.

He pulled a lever and the hatch closed, sealing with a hiss and a click.

“Bee, blast the heat.” He instructed, pulling the goggles off of your head, smoothing your hair back, his touch quick and clinical. He stared at the scorched mark on your jacket. “Can you…?”

“Yeah.” You unzipped it, tugging it down your shoulders, exposing the wound. You hissed as the fabric rubbed against it, still red and agitated and hot hot hot.

“Hey, hey, you okay?” He asked, tucking your jacket into a small cargo cabinet near his feet.

“Think so.” You nodded, shedding another layer, and then rolling up the sleeve, exposing the burn. “Yeah, he definitely got me.”

“Here.” Poe pulled a bacta patch out of a small first aid kit, carefully laying it over the wound.

A cooling sensation spread from the spot, the relief instant. You leaned back against him, head resting on his shoulder as you let out a long breath. “Thanks.”

“Mmhmm.” He hummed, flipping a few switches. His arms wrapped around your waist and he pressed his face into your neck, letting out a long, warm breath against your skin. “You had me so worried, baby.”

“I’ve had worse.”

“I know.” He nodded, curls tickling you with the movement. He pressed a long kiss there, then another, arms tightening as he inhaled your scent like it was oxygen. Eventually, he lifted his head, nose rubbing against yours as your face turned towards him.

You kissed him, lips soft, tender. You could tell his mind was elsewhere.

“Your wings…are they okay? You were out there for so long…”

“They’re okay.” You raised one to demonstrate. Its movements were still a little stilted, but they would be okay. You held his face in your hand, firm, forcing him to look at you. “I’m okay, Poe. Promise. I’m not made of glass. We have to get off this planet before we get stuck here, alright? The snow’s gonna get worse.”

“Okay.” He nodded, closing his eyes and inhaling a long breath. “Okay, yeah, alright.” He pressed a quick kiss to your lips and then pulled his helmet on, putting a wall between the two of you. “Yep, just adjusting the co-pilot in here. Wheels up, fellas. Let’s get outta here.”

The X-Wings lifted off, escorting the transports out of the atmosphere and into hyperdrive.

BB-8 took the wheel for the most part. Poe was quiet, an arm around your waist, the other on the control rod. Your back was completely flush against his chest, wings tucked under, still prickling as the feeling came back, little by little.

And it was so…quiet. He was so quiet.

“You alright, Commander?”

“Gettin’ there.” He replied, arm tightening around you. He pressed an awkward kiss to your neck, as best as he could under the helmet.

You laughed softly at the awkward position.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized suddenly, voice sounding heavy.

“Sorry? Why are you sorry?” You asked, turning to look at him, attempting to meet his eyes through the glass of his helmet visor.

He pressed a button on the dash, muting himself so the other pilots couldn’t hear. “I just…sometimes it’s so easy to forget that you’re…I mean…you’ve done this before. You’ve been through so much. But I see you out there in the field, face to face with a kriffing Sith, and it all just melts away. (Y/N)...I know you can handle yourself, but I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”

The words sat there in the open for a few moments that felt like minutes. You let out a breath, turning to look at him for a long moment, his eyes locked out the windshield.

“You’re a Jedi. You’re…you’re a legend, Princess. I know that, but…”

“Everyone treats me like I’m invincible.” You confessed. “Everyone. Even after my accident. It’s…nice to have someone worry about me. I just don’t want to be a liability to you. I need you to be safe too, Poe.”

He nodded, determination brewing behind those warm eyes of his. “We’ll just have to look out for each other, then.”

“Til the end of this war, and every day after.” You promised, turning your head at an odd angle to kiss the stubble on his cheek.

He chuckled a little. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get you up here sooner, baby.”

“Hey, at least we finally got our joyride.” You chuckled. “Our date.”

Poe pressed another kiss to your neck, the plasteel of his helmet brushing against the side of your face, drawing another laugh out of you. “I’ll pick a more romantic spot for the next one.”

The Illusion of Safety

After the Hoth debrief, the cantina was packed. Everyone wanted to hear about it. About the new Sith lord and how you’d sliced his wings clean off, the sheer cold of the planet. The rookies talked about nearly freezing their toes off.

You nursed a cup of Jet Juice, feeling tired, but relieved it was over. Relieved everyone was home safe with new X-Wings, new building materials, blasters, boots and uniforms. In the meantime, there had been some food deliveries as well, and Laesynda told you your garden was beginning to sprout.

Things were looking up, in other words.

The crew was caught in another game of Never Have I Ever, with updated experiences and ideas to throw at each other. Snap met your eyes, Poe seated beside you, his hand on your thigh under the table, impossibly warm, even through the fabric of your trousers.

“Never have I ever kissed a pilot.” Rose said.

You cursed under your breath, along with a handful of other people. Snap and Karé namely. You took a sip of Jet Juice, watching the wicked gleam in Poe’s eyes, the smirk that pulled at his lips.

Snap was next. He knew as well as you did that Luke Skywalker was known for his flying abilities, among many other things, of course. But just to be extra sure, he locked eyes with Poe, raising an eyebrow as he said, “Never have I ever kissed a Jedi.”

You took your sip, for Luke.

Poe’s tongue curled briefly over his lip, meeting your eyes for a moment, asking permission.

You flicked your eyes from his down to his cup and back. “What are you waiting for, Dameron? Take your sip.”

“I mean, it’s more like a hundred sips at this point, but…” Poe grinned into his cup.

Rey’s mouth fell open, everyone watching with bated breath as he chugged the rest of it. The table erupted in cheers.

“I knew it!” Finn exclaimed, pointing. “I knew it!”

Poe shook his head, all smiles. “No you did not!”

“How long?” Snap asked. “I’ve got a couple bets I need to cash in on.”

“The gala.” Poe admitted, the arm that had been resting on your thigh coming up around your waist instead.

“Really? Only since then?” Snap asked. “Maker, I thought it was longer than that, even. Saw you in the hangar one afternoon, kissing her hand.”

“Oh, that was step one of my grand plan.” Poe grinned, flyboy confidence plastered on his handsome face. “We then completely rerouted from said plan, but it worked out.”

You laughed, leaning against his shoulder. “He’s good at improvising.”

Finn deadpanned. “The morning after the gala. When you…?”

“Did the walk of shame? Yeah, sure did.” Poe admitted, earning laughs from the rest of the group. He leaned closer, breath sharp with the smell of alcohol, laced with whatever juice had been laying around the kitchens when the mechs whipped it all together. His nose brushed against your skin, lips aimed for your cheek, but you turned your head, kissing him full on the lips, heart racing at the way his mouth curled into a smile, proud.

The group cheered, offering their congratulations, saying how happy they were for you. You were happy, too. It was serious. Had been since your conversation on Hoth, but long before that, too. Poe was holding your heart in both of his warm, calloused hands. He knew that. And now they all did, too.

Tomorrow, you two would be the talk of the Resistance, the gossip of the day. But tonight, you were surrounded by your friends, laughter and warmth. Your family.

Poe pinched your side, arms curling around your waist. He pressed a long kiss to your cheek and then remembered the game. “Right, my turn. Uhhh, never have I ever been in a pod race.”

***

That night, you dreamt of a void. Empty and dark. Endless. A red saber ignited and then he was standing there. Mothim. Your brother.

He took off the mask, a wrinkled face beneath, eyes golden and gleaming in the shadows. A pair of jagged wings trailed behind him, their edges singed, glowing like embers. “You thought you could hide from me, you insolent girl.”

“Wasn’t hiding, actually. I was sleeping. Sorry if that’s confusing.” You retorted, voice echoing into the distance. “Maybe you’re losing it in your old age, Mads.”

“QUIET!!!” His voice echoed, pounding in your ears. You recoiled. “I’m in your head now, you insolent girl. You cannot escape me. You and that pilot of yours are done for. It’s only a matter of time before I find you and snuff out your precious little Resistance, like I should have so long ago.”

“You can’t. The fire’s been lit. You’re on borrowed time.”

He laughed, the sound spine-chilling.

He was suddenly right in front of you, long, clawed fingers grasping your chin and squeezing. Hard. You tried to run away, but you were frozen. You couldn’t move.

“It’s ironic, really. That you would say that.” He hissed, words sharp as blades. “You gave your life to kill Insidia, to stop her, but your sacrifice was in vain. You’ll see that soon.”

He lit the other end of the saber, its light piercing right through your chest, the pain real and burning.

You jolted awake, eyes shooting open. Your heart raced as you stared at the empty room, curtains blowing slightly in the breeze. You could hear the leaves rustling gently outside. You took some deep breaths.

Poe’s arm was curled tight around your waist, knees tucked up into yours, his nose pressed to the back of your neck. He felt you wake, humming softly and kissing behind your ear. “You alright?”

“Nightmare.” You said, voice shaking. 

You couldn’t get Maddox’s words out of your ears. He had threatened Poe. Maybe he knew somehow. Maybe he really was in your head. He had to be mad after you’d sliced his wings off. Seething. It was the worst pain a Mariposan could experience. Thousands of nerve endings severed all at once, white-hot. You knew that firsthand.

Maybe you should have saved a blow like that for a better moment.

“Mmm.” His voice rumbled against you, the vibrations comforting. His lips pressed against your neck, soft and gentle in the dark. “Mothim?”

“He…He said some stuff. About Insidia…” You confessed, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I…It’s…He threatened you.”

“We can tell Leia in the morning, starlight.” He said, brushing your hair back out of your face. “It’s alright.”

You nodded, but Poe could tell you weren’t convinced. He turned you over, pressing his nose to yours, eyes searching your tearstained face.

“Come here.” He pulled you into his arms, a hand skimming over your wing, the other cradling your head. “We’re fine, baby. We both are, alright? He’s not gonna touch me and if he sets foot near you again, I’ll kill him myself. All I need is a clean shot.”

You smiled softly, heart warming at the fire in his chest, in his eyes. Your Poe was a fighter. You didn’t know how likely that scenario was, but you knew he meant every word. He’d do anything to protect you, fight anyone, no matter the odds.

“You mean that, don’t you?”

“‘Course I do. I’d fight the fucking stars for you.” He pressed his lips to yours, soft and slow. “Let’s go back to sleep, alright? We both need it.”

You nodded, curling into him, leg hooking over his. You tucked your face into his shoulder, inhaling his scent, that warm mix of sandalwood and leather and his rain-scented soap. You felt so safe in his arms, like nothing and no one could touch you. You knew that wasn’t true, but it felt like it was. Like as long as the two of you were together, you’d be fine, that he could stop anyone from the cockpit of that X-Wing, neutralize any threat with only his blaster, before you could even so much as power up your saber.

You held onto that thought as you drifted off again, the illusion of safety. You and Poe, riding in his X-Wing off into the sunset, BB-8 buckled into the back seat.

The Weight of the Galaxy

You found Leia after breakfast, walked straight into her office and sat with her, told her about your nightmare.

“It might have…just been a dream.” You concluded, after giving her the details. What Maddox had said. His threat that Insidia’s plan had succeeded. That your sacrifice meant nothing.

“Did it feel like just a dream?”

“No.” You admitted, arms wrapped around yourself. “It felt…real. Or, like there was some truth to it, at the very least. I’ve dreamt about Insidia loads of times, but…never Maddox.”

Leia nodded and you could feel her, reaching with the Force. She had that look in her eye, like she was a million planets away, but right next to you. The frown that tugged at her lips gave you all the answer you needed. You’d been right. Something big was coming. Something bad.

“We need to…up the Jedi training regimen. A lot. I need all three of you ready.”

“Four.” You said. “But we’ll need a saber for Finn. I think he’s ready for it.”

“I can get one.” Leia nodded. “It’ll take some time.”

“I’ll get them as ready as I can in the meantime.” You promised.

You walked out of her office and out into the camp, feeling sick. Something in you fluttered, and not in a good way. Rey walked up to you, touching your arm, shaking you from the funk. Soren was with her, both of them waiting for the news.

“What did she say?”

“We’re on for training. As much as possible.” You said, letting out a shaking breath. “Leia’s intuition has always been…better than mine. If she thinks there was some truth to…what I saw…”

“Then we’ll just have to get ready for it. Whatever it is.”

Your stomach sank, thinking about it. “More like who.”

***

So you trained. All three of you and Finn. Soren and Rey sparred together nonstop, running agility courses, using a training remote, learning to deflect blasts faster. Faster. Faster yet.

You worked with Finn, handing him your saber, a trusting look in your eye.

“Oh, I couldn’t.” He shook his head.

“It’s just a loan, Finn. We’re still figuring out where to find you one. In the meantime, I need you to get comfortable with the weight of it, the movement. They’re a little different than the training rods you’ve been working with.”

He nodded, testing the weight of it in his hand. You set him on the training course, flitting from tree to tree, watching his progress from a safe distance, trying to stay out of his line of sight as much as possible. You spotted Poe, down at base, eyes tracking you while he stood with Leia and Chewbacca, flicking back down to the conversation every few moments. You ran through the branches, wings carrying you.

The blade of the saber caught on a thin tree and you used the Force to lower it to the ground, gently, out of Finn’s way. He was…hesitant, like Soren had been, but he had the raw talent. He moved like Luke, you reminisced, every move thought through, intentional.

You landed at the end of the course as he powered down the saber. He waited for your evaluation, shoulders stiff. It was moments like this when you were reminded of his upbringing. Didn’t come out often anymore, but when faced with people he saw as authority, it did tend to peek out from those kind eyes. The fear of correction. Of the punishment that followed.

You put a hand on his arm, dispelling the tension that bloomed in his chest. “That was great, Finn. You’re doing great.”

“I missed a few.”

“You’re using a borrowed saber. They’re not always easy to use when they’re not bonded to you. We’ll get you one of your own soon. Besides. I lied. That wasn’t the novice course, it was apprentice level. The work you’ve been doing, even with a stick, it all counts. You’re one of us, Finn.” You told him, hand curling around your saber as he handed it back to you. “I’m not your Jedi Master, I’m your friend. I’m here to offer advice and guidance. What you do with it is up to you. We’re all in this together.”

He smiled at that, nodding. “I like that.”

“I thought you would.”

“How’d it go?” Rey asked, walking over with Soren.

Finn let out a breath, tension rolling out of his shoulders, replaced instead with confidence, with strength from the Force. “We’re getting there.”

***

A week passed. Then two. Nonstop training. Meditating in the morning, breakfast, a trip through the training course, lunch, more meditation and some lightsaber sparring, dinner. After, you’d hit the books, curling up with Luke’s notes, with your own, studying every word like there was something you were missing. There had to be something you were missing.

Poe watched, your spark kindling a fire in his chest, but an ache in his heart. He’d never seen you so stressed. So driven. Like you were carrying the weight of the galaxy with those wings of yours. In some ways, you were.

“Baby…” He murmured, pressing a kiss to your neck, hands following the curve of your waist.

You were hunched over a book, sitting in the lounge. You curled into his touch, his warmth, crooning. “Mmm?”

“It’s late. Come to bed.”

“I’m fine.” You insisted. “I got thirty years of sleep, remember? I think it evens out if I cash in on some of that now.”

He exhaled, shaking his head. “You sound like me.”

“Ironic, isn’t it?” You chuckled, flipping the page.

“Alright, well, you give me no choice.” He said, closing the book with a firm hand, your eyes widening up at him. “Come on. Sleep time.”

“Poe.”

“I will carry you.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” You asked, a bit of a bite to your words.

“Both. Come on.” He pulled you by your hands, up from the table, and hoisted you right over his shoulder.

“Hey! I feel like there are more graceful ways to be handling a princess, you know.” You protested, kicking your legs.

“Yeah, but none of them give me the chance to do this.” He gave your ass a not-so-gentle pat.

You gasped, thanking the Maker that the hallway was completely empty, otherwise, the whole crew would be talking about you and him for new reasons, since the initial buzz of your relationship coming to light had finally dwindled. “Poe Dameron!”

“Scold me later, Princess, you know you need it.” He said, setting you upright in front of the door to your quarters. He rested his hands on his hips, looking you over.

His tired, overworked little Jedi Princess. Your wings were drooping more than usual. You kept them folded away typically, for practical reasons, but they looked more like fabric than tissue at this point. He frowned.

“Why the long face, flyboy?”

“I just don’t like seeing you like this.” He admitted, reaching out for your hand. He fiddled with your fingers. “You need sleep. You need to be drinking more water. Mariposans need it to perk up their wings. Look at ‘em, starlight, I’ve never seen them so droopy.”

“Yeah, I’ve been…distracted, I guess.” You relented, nodding. “I’ll drink some before bed.”

“Oh I know you will. I’m staying.” He said, pushing past you into the room. He pulled you inside, closing the door with a press of the panel. He plucked your drinking glass from your desk, rinsing it out in your bathroom sink before bringing it back with clean water and pressing it into your hand. “Drink.”

“Yes, Commander.” You replied, tipping it back and taking several long sips. He was right. You’d needed it.

He took your face in his hand, fingers gentle, but firm. He wiped a droplet of water from the corner of your lip with his thumb. “Good girl.”

You’d be lying if you said that didn’t do something to you. And you would have done something to him, if it wasn’t so late, if the initial point of his little wellness check hadn’t been sleep, or, more accurately, your lack thereof.

You brushed your teeth, put some lotion on your wings, aided by his careful touch, and then you both climbed into bed. You rested your head on his chest, listening to his heart beat, steady and strong. He played with your hair, pressing kisses to your forehead.

“Thank you.” You finally said, voice quiet.

His lips curled into a smile against your hairline. “What kind of a boyfriend would I be if I didn’t gently bully you into taking care of yourself?”

You chuckled. “Probably not a very good one.”

“Mmhmm.” He hummed. “Now, do me a favor and close those pretty eyes of yours. I’m thinking at least seven hours. Maybe eight if we’re lucky.”

You leaned up and pressed your lips to his, movements slow, loving. “Won’t Leia…”

“She and I both know we need you at your best. All of us, really, but…especially you.” Poe kissed you, gazing at you through those thick dark, thick eyelashes. He pulled you back down, kissing your temple, a hand grazing your wing, which was starting to flex to its former shape again.

You let out a long breath, his touches lulling you with expert precision. You mumbled into the crook of his neck, eyelids growing heavy at his warmth. “This is not fair.”

“There it is. Sleep, baby. I’ll see you in the morning.” Poe reassured, voice soft.

He listened as your breaths slowed, felt as you slipped off to sleep, the tension leaving your face, your body, your wings.

And then, once he was absolutely sure you were asleep, he pressed a final kiss to your forehead and whispered, “I love you.”

***

Sometimes, when Poe woke up before you, if whatever position the two of you awoke in allowed, he’d slip his mother’s ring onto your finger, just to see. Even with it still on the chain, it did something to him, the way it looked on your hand, that braided leather bracelet on your wrist, the one that meant that you were his.

It looked right. Felt right.

He felt you stir, so he pulled it off, gently, kissing each of your eyelids as you blinked awake. Refreshed and well-rested for the first time in weeks.

Poe wasn’t Force Sensitive, but he could tell there was something big coming. You all could. It made him cherish these little moments between you even more.

Leia got word from a scout named Boolio. There was some info he had on a hard drive, a potential spy in the First Order. Someone would have to rendezvous, download the files in person. Poe put himself forward. Finn, too. Chewbacca.

Poe tried to get at least one of the other Jedi to come along, but the three of you were staying behind to train.

“More training. Figures. I should have known you’d say that.” Poe said, deflated.

Your resolve softened. “Poe.”

“No, it’s fine, I get it, it’s just…”

You took a step closer, taking his hand, the other smoothing out the fabric of his button-up shirt, the one he claimed made him look like a sexy space pirate. He wasn’t wrong about that. “If you need me, I’m there.”

He thought about it, meeting your eyes. He knew you meant it. You always did. He shook his head, relenting, and pressed a long kiss to the back of your hand, stubble tickling against your skin. “They need you here. Finn and I will be alright. I just feel…better with you on board. Call me superstitious, or…”

“Sentimental?” You smiled softly, tucking a stray curl behind his ear. “May the Force be with you, Commander.”

He touched the Mariposan healer’s pendant, still hanging around his neck from its leather cord, right beside his mother’s ring. “It always is.”

You watched the Falcon take off, unrest taking root in your heart. You didn’t know exactly why, but you knew this was the mission that would change everything. That once the boys got back, everything would be different.

You let out a long breath, watching the ship until it shrank away into the sky, zapped away at lightspeed. There was no going back now.

Tags: @cap-lu20