#after all he and the other PoE whether they had bodies or not

[theconfusedartist]

it's funny

the reason all the timelines are named "permutation xnumber" isn't bc of Desmond, the Isu, or anyone else that knows about the timelines and how to travel between them, as they have their own specific distinction based on what events were changed

it's actually Alex who started the permutation naming, as he came from permutation 1 and was able to go through all the major decisions he made to choose different options.

he would've stayed in permutation 1 too, since he was happy, but found out that someone put a planned obsolescence code in Desmond which resulted in his permanent death that couldn't be undone or fixed even with the specialized virus that he specifically made to infect Desmond to keep him alive

due to this, Alex starts hopping from permutation to permutation, living with the alive Desmond in those timelines, and just enjoying his lover being alive.

He starts finding out hidden information about the Isu and PoE technology and uses this to make different decisions in every timeline he visits while also keeping Desmond closer and closer

It's why, in permutation 1, when Alex (who didn't know who "Destiny Mercer" was at the time but knew about Desmond Desiree Miles) first manages to find Desmond and grabs him in a big hug, Desmond asks "how do you know me?". Desmond had decided not to believe that Alex getting shot down would permanently kill him, but he also knew (since Alex had predicted his death beforehand) that some shit was going on

[sapphicseasapphire]

Living in a world as populated as it is by mortals, it is rare to come across a being who is not so. Rarer still is it to come across one who is both mortal and immortal- those who toe the line between Life and Death.

Reapers are abundant but undetected, doing their work for the spirits while hidden in a mortal body. They are bound to no Gods, serving only the lost souls of the land and answering only to the inevitability of Life and Death.

Hylian legends depict Death as a woman clothed in flowing white fabric, serene and tranquil, everlasting and inescapable. Some fear her, some hate her. Most bunch her up with the Goddesses.

She is not a Goddess.

She is… a promise.

And just as they’ve cast Death’s image onto a Goddess that doesn’t exist, they attribute Life’s gifts to Hylia, singing her praise. Hylia, the little sister of the Golden Three, tasked with protecting this world, is not Life.

Life has existed here for far longer than Hylia has. Some say that she was created with the breath of Farore, others speculate that she came before.

People think that Death exists in Life’s shadow, that they are entirely separate from one another. One brings joy, the other brings pain. This is, wholly and entirely, untrue.

For Life and Death wear matching white cloth, and they stand so closely together that they are indistinguishable from each other. One cannot exist without the other. They are… the same, in nature. They are patient. They take nothing more than what they are given; they give nothing more than what they take. It is balanced, in that way.

Everyone must face them, one way or another. Even Gods cannot deny the push and pull of Life and Death.

Although, there are occasions in which they can be swayed. In the case of a young boy who’d met his end during his quest, so beloved by the spirits, Death chose to wait. She did not claim his soul, not yet. She heeded the pleas of the spirits and allowed him to continue on- to finish what he had started. But this was not without a cost.

The boy- only twelve years old- was named Link, and he was not unique. Those who are favored by the spirits and succumb to illness or injury are often granted these second chances. They may never remember that they had died, but they are forever changed.

These people are known as Reapers. They recruited by Death to guide lost spirits to the afterlife. They have heartbeats, they breathe, they require sustenance. Reapers are mortal, normal people.

Until it becomes time to do the reaping, that is.

In order for a Reaper to find and guide spirits, they must use spirit magic. Spirit magic is as potent and variable as any other type of magic, except its power source is distinct: it is fueled by the power of an untethered soul. It comes naturally to Reapers, except in order to use it, they must free their soul.

Reapers have the ability to separate their souls from their bodies, becoming nothing more than a spirit. Once freed, they are immediately pulled to the nearest lost soul and it is their duty to aid them in their journey to the next life. The pull of a Poe is just as potent as the pull of a portal: demanding and unavoidable. Reapers feel it physically.

When their soul is outside of their body, a Reaper will appear comatose to the waking world. Unresponsive and unmoving, almost like they’re asleep. Their hearts still beat, their lungs still breathe. They still live but there’s nothing there. If their body is moved during this time, the Reaper will have a difficult time returning to it. Their survival will depend on whether or not they can find their body.

Link is one of many Reapers that serve under Death, and he is not unhappy. He sees the Threads of Fate that bind all things- the red ones of the living, the black ones of the dead, and the white ones of the immortal- and he takes pride in helping wayward Poes follow these threads home. He… has experience guiding souls, after all.

Link doesn’t remember when exactly he died, but he knows it had to have happened during his quest to rid the Demon King from Princess Zelda’s body. With her spirit by his side, he felt unstoppable. And his new job isn’t much different. He doesn’t feel sadness when he guides a Poe to their next adventure. No, he feels… at peace.

Death is extremely welcoming to him, for she knows that in time, he will return to her. Just as all things do. Link- our Spirit- admires Death. He serves under her but he is not opposed to it. He’s wholly dedicated to his job. He takes pride in it. It doesn’t interfere with his waking life too much and even as he cast on another adventure, it’s not too much to manage. Death treats him well, and he’d never denounce her.

When he’s reaping, he’s making a difference. He’s helping people. Is that not what a hero should strive for?

He’s… home.

Some notes!

• This kind of turned into a post about Reapers specifically and less about Spirit, but ehhh lore is lore

• Spirit and Wind are BEST BUDS. I’ve been referring to them as “the twins” in my head this whole time

• Spirit’s pupils glow when he is looking at the Threads of Fate. He can’t see them all the time, just when he really focuses on them, or else he’d be blinded by all the string everywhere!

• More on that- he doesn’t only see the threads that bind people to each other. He also sees the threads that bind people to objects. Everything has a memory, everything has a story.

• Something about Spirit’s presence is so inherently peaceful. He speaks quietly and clearly, he moves like a whisp, he smiles so gently. He can 100% be a little goblin in his own right, but he can be incredibly comforting when he wants to be.

• He cannot swim. Wind is APPALLED.

• He knows that Time is a God right away. His string is white. He doesn’t tell anyone, though, because it’s not his place. Everyone has their secrets, everyone should have the right to reveal themselves at their own pace.

• He and Wild sure do have a relationship. Yep. Just. The Reaper- the one who is tasked with guiding lost souls. And the literal spirit, actual ghost. Uh huh. They. Um. Yeah, they definitely have a dynamic. (This dynamic is the reason that I was convinced to add Spirit to my Cryptid Chain)

• A spirit is any soul without a body. A Poe specifically refers to a spirit that is lost. Hopeless. One who needs help. Wild is not a Poe. (Kind of)

• Spirit is like Time in the sense that he has not fully ascended, and won’t until his mortal lifespan is over. When he dies, he will continue to be a Reaper, but much more powerful as he will not be bound to a body. But that’s far, far off. He’s twelve, I won’t be cruel to him

• hehehehe

• He’s so incredibly good at playing the pan flute.

• Also this kid’s hilarious without even trying. (Spirit Tracks is the funniest Zelda game of all time)

• NERD. HE LOVES HIS TRAINS. HE IS IN PHYSICAL PAIN THAT NONE OF THE OTHER LINKS EVEN KNOW WHAT A TRAIN IS!!! SEND HELP!!! TELL HIM ABOUT YOUR FAVORITE TRAINS!!! HE MISSES HIS TRAIN!!!

• He has the unique ability to talk to Poes and Spirits directly, so he’s gonna be the best bet when it comes to translating for Wild. If Wild will let him come close, that is.

• “Don’t disturb me guys, I have some reaping to do,” he says, and then takes a nap. The others can’t tell.

• Or, mid battle, the decides they could really use a blast of spirit magic to aid them. So he just. Separates his soul from his body, as one does. Falls limply to the ground as the monsters they were fighting just suddenly all die. What just happened???

• Do monsters have souls? Do they become Poes? Thoughts that keep Spirit up at night.

[emmitaaa4]

“Elriel is too predictable! It’s boring & lazy writing!”

… 🧍‍♂️

My brother in Christ. You call SJM the fated mates author. Through 15+ books and 3 series she hasn’t diverged from that trope. Elain has a “mate”.

If an Elriel outcome is predictable, it’s because the author willed it so and therefore ✨wrote scenes✨ to ✨develop their relationship✨.

and by that i mean…

(long post ahead…. bear with me)

SJM wrote Mr. “I don’t need to resort to poetry” going all Azriel Allan Poe, flustered as he tells Elain “we are born hearing the song of the wind”. She wrote him uncharacteristically open & talkative, while when he 1st met Feyre he deferred all her questions to others.

SJM wrote that despite how different they may look, Elain does not balk from Az. She never has: from their 1st meeting she finds comfort in him, and he in turn notices her—she’s never been afraid of him, he has always seen her.

SJM wrote the 1st coherent thing to come out of Elain’s mouth in WaR to be “beautiful” as she beholds Azriel’s scarred hands. In turn, she wrote our gardener not minding imperfections on hers, for despite her lady-like conditioning, she prefers to get her hands dirty.

SJM wrote Az spending time with her in the sunshine: no forced conversation, no one hEaLinG anyone, just them both doing their own thing as a relaxed Az suns his wings. Just two pals comfortable with one another… which SJM foreshadowed in MaF through Feyre’s “Elain would likely cling to Az for some peace and quiet”.

SJM wrote Az and Cass both stilling at the sight of El & Nes, she wrote Az cutting in to set Elain up in her garden even as Feyre was about to do it, she wrote the mention that Elain was safe after the twin raven’s attack bc Az had stayed with her at the townhouse.

SJM wrote Azriel’s eyes churning as he looks at Elain and her too-thin body, before abruptly winnowing away, and we’re left with Mor looking at the spot where he left. Wonder what that was about (it certainly did not remind me of Rhys in TaR).

You know, Elriels are not just making stuff up and theorizing about the E/ucien bond cause we’re desperately pulling at straws…

SJM had Madja say “a mate would know if something is amiss”, then wrote a scene juxtaposing both Lucien’s and Azriel’s reactions/assessments of what was going on with Elain… and she had Azriel be the one to know nothing was “wrong” with her—no, she just had rare powers and needed to be heard, to be taken seriously. He didn't let her be misunderstood, for he was the ONLY one that listened to her, that took her visions/ramblings seriously right from the get go. And so he gave Elain the understanding she needed to free herself from the dream-like murky realm she was trapped in. Through it all, SJM emphasizes that Azriel also understands what it is like to struggle with rare, strange, prized powers in silence; what it’s like to be othered by them. I’ve said it before and i’ll say it again: she sees everything and he hears everything.

SJM wrote that “Elain had hoped that love would trump even a mating bond” and had her characters question the Cauldron in relation to Elucien *twice* (years apart!).

…

SJM wrote Az being the only one—in a room full of Made beings speaking of being Made—to notice that Elain was missing. A reassuring but empty statement by Cass that they’d get her back….but then it was Azriel that stated, eyes glowing golden, that HE would be getting her back, despite the girl’s own sister discouraging him & telling him he’d die. Hell, Feyre had this whole deliberation on whether she’d join him only after he’d say he’d go. His initiative.

The Hybern scene is too long to add, but this post and this theory break it all down brilliantly.

Yes, Az has sacrificial tendencies. Yes, he’d risk his life for loved ones in general. But we have never seen him this affected, and it is because SJM purposely used language to emphasize Elain and Azriel’s meaningful reactions to the other… despite it being wholly “unnecessary”

It is all intentional… lazy’s antonym.

SJM wrote the Truthteller scene. She emphasized the exchange, which left Cassian gasping and Rhys flabbergasted; it also left Feyre with a significant painting in her mind. It lead to Elain, aka “my God has answered me,” stepping out of a shadow to save her sister. Azriel, aka “God is my help”, indeed helped armed Elain so she could answer her sisters prayers.

SJM ended WaR with Elain’s smile literally lighting up Az’s shadows.

SJM had Elain’s thoughtful gift to him make his eyes the brightest we’ve seen—and by doing so gave us the most beautiful description of his earthy eyes, “the hues of green amid the brown and gray like veins of emerald.” We have never seen Az so joyful & carefree throughout the entire series.

SJM wrote that Azriel beat Feyre to Elain’s side as she was looking out into the night. She wrote Elain stilling at the sight of a dashing Azriel—her throat bobbing—while Az “just moved towards her”.

SJM wrote the potato scene—“sit i’ll take care of it”—Azriel again being the one to respect Elain’s presence & contribution as he makes a room full of his “superiors” wait until Elain finishes tidying herself up (cause girlie wanted to look put together for a certain shadowsinger). Mor gapes, Amren smirks, Rhys talks of Az’s mom… all because of that surprising, singular behaviour from him.

SJM wrote Az making a joke at Amren’s expense upon noticing Elain’s discomfort; our girl’s shoulders indeed relax in relief. THE LIGHT RETURNS IN HER EYES.

SJM has Azriel staying up past 3am with Elain, listening to her speak of something she is passionate of.

SJM wrote Azriel spending an entire convo with his brothers looking out into the garden from the window (SJM mentioned it 4 times yet some still missed it).

SJM wrote Rhys goading Az for a reaction as he quizzes him on Lucien and Grayson; wrote Rhys realizing that Azriel did not want to know what Elain did with Lucien (in the case she did anything). She wrote Azriel nervously stuttering as he asks risks if they need to get the sisters a present… I wonder why.

And Rosehall… SJM wrote ROSEhall: cracktheory this cracktheory that, to the gwonriels I’d say we both know you wouldn’t say it’s irrelevant had SJM chosen to call his estate Tealhall.

~~~~

Keep in mind: SJM could have written those significant scenes and ultimately kept it PG: she could have chosen language that built up a profound platonic relationship.

Yet… in MaF she has Feyre comment that they would be good together—as in make a good *couple*. WaR roles in and they’re both dealing with the very public rejections they went through—but SJM had them build a quiet companionship in the background, while giving them a wealth of scenes of great significance for both their characters, and while using language like “she DEVOURED the sight of him” “he CRADLED her to his chest”. In FaS they are slowly but surely getting over their last loves, and SJM continues developing their connection.

And in ACOSF, in the book that supposedly “ended” Elriel…

SJM wrote Az following the sound of her laugh (😭). “ It’s just lust” PLEASE BFFR.

SJM chose to remind us—THREE times—of the Hybern rescue scene... then had Az tell Cass that he’d know, in his chest, if something happened to Nesta.

SJM had Az longingly stare at the gift Elain gave him every night for a YEAR—mind plagued by thoughts of her—made him so affected by her that he had reactions to every mention of her name in SF, so affected that it took Nes one look at them to notice his feelings, to reach out in comfort upon noticing the pain that keeping himself apart from to her caused him. As SJM said she would, Nes saw through his secret in ACOSF, still it is “his secret to tell, never hers”. After Solstice we are met with a grumpy Azriel, who lost the snowball fight for the 1st time in centuries (i wonder why…).

SJM chose to link his every secret back to his feelings for Elain, as per the bonus . Why does he stay up so late and wake up so early? He longs for Elain so much he can’t sleep. Why is he staying in the HoW? It is too hard to be close to Elain given their circumstances; he must physically distance himself from her. Why has he moved on from Mor after centuries? Elain. Why is he grumpy post Solstice? The argument with Rhys concerning Elain.

~~~~

Ultimately, SJM wrote for Elriel:

- Complementary imagery (flowers and death? light and dark blending together to form something new… DUSK, anyone?)

- AND plot altering scenes

- AND chose to liken them to one another multiple times

- AND genuine moments of companionship that slowly bloomed into something more…

… Is it so insane to believe that maybe SJM spent so much page time and effort building connections & common ground between them because she intends for elain & az to find peace and quiet within one another?

Or idk, maybe it was all for shits and giggles… and if it was i salute her commitment to the shits and the giggles🫡

Either way, it is the opposite of lazy writing…

It’s SJM’s world & words, and we are just reading them.

P.S: This was all just typed on my cell phone from the top of my head… yes remembering all this is probs concerning, yes I am obsessed. Please correct me if I got anything wrong.

[laceswan]

Until I See You Again

Poe Dameron x fem!reader

established relationship, fluff, mild angst C/W: mild swearing

Poe had some extra time after a mission and flies over to Naboo to see a certain someone.

They were making wonderful time. It was a simple mission, and in all honesty, Poe could probably have done it alone. It was simply to infiltrate a First Order moon base of Naboo, and get a little bit of info. In and out, easy. But, Leia had decided it would be done with a group, so here he was, landing a ship full of exhausted and sleeping rebels. They wouldn’t be awake until morning, and didn’t need to be back for a while. So tonight, he was going to do his own thing. Normally, he would have been likewise tired, and he was, but that exhaustion was overridden with excitement and anticipation. The First Order had taken Naboo, but it was a big planet, they couldn’t have full control over all of it. There was no way they would even bother looking in a big field of inordinately tall grass for a resistance ship that just happened to be resting for the night. And that field of tall grass happened to be on the edges of a little town that the Order didn’t care to heavily police. It wasn’t nearly consequential enough to warrant such energy. Too far from the capital, too small of a population, no one important. No one important to them at least. But for Poe, the most important person in the world lived somewhere on the edge the town, in a small cottage and a decently sized garden. So, with an unnaturally large smile for such a tired face, he walked out of the ship and towards the house he hadn’t seen in far too long. As he got closer, he could see a silhouette in the window, moving about. And as he walked closer to the door he could hear the voice he so dearly missed. She was singing, not loud, but loud enough to be heard just outside. He hadn’t heard that beautiful voice in so long, and my did he miss it. Breathing became a task, his pulse was roaring in his chest, but the smile didn’t leave, only joined by a little water in his eyes. Everything was familiar here, even the sound of the wood as he knocked. Whether the singing stopped or just got quieter, he couldn’t tell, but it was certainly done by the time the door opened. And for a moment, the world was still. Crickets were quiet, the wind fell asleep, nothing dared move. Her eyes were wide, frozen in simple shock and a touch of disbelief.

“Poe?”

She reached a hand forward. It found its place caressing his cheek, finally registering that he was really there. And not a moment later, she was pressed against him, her arms wrapped tightly and face pressed crying into his shoulder. He was gentle as he pulled her closer, speaking quietly so too.

“I’m here,”

They stayed like that for a while, soaking in all that they could of this one moment. Her warmth, her fragrance, the slight pressure of her body on his, he missed it, and only in having it back for this moment did he realize just how much.

“So… we gonna stand in the doorway forever of are we gonna inside?”

Her giggle was muffled, but he could feel her smile as she stayed close. Once the door was closed, the two of them sat down, not entirely knowing what to do. They did stay practically glued to the other, touch-starved and unwilling to let go. Eventually, (y/n) regained some semblance of cognitive function.

“What are you doing here? Wh-why are you here? Nothing… nothing’s changed, why did you come back?”

All of her questions came rapidly tumbling out of mouth, falling in jumbled pieces onto the floor. Poe wanted just to hold her tighter and say he missed her, but that’s not what she was asking.

“We had a mission nearby, had some extra time. I figured I would come and visit.”

She tried to hide her disappointment, for she knew there was nothing that could be done. They were doing the best they could with that which was given.

“How long can you stay?”

“Just ‘till morning, then we have to go back to base. I know it’s not very long-“

“No, it’s ok,”

There was a subtle, loving warmth in her gaze as she spoke.

“It’s better than nothing.”

Poe could feel his heart breaking. He had never felt this strong a desire to throw caution to the wind and just stay on Naboo, with her. But as much as he wanted to, the war was still very much active, and he knew he needed to at least try, do whatever he could to make the world better. And she knew it too. So neither of them said a thing. Something could be heard by the door, a banging of sorts

“Shhhiiiitt-“

Poe very quickly rose from where he was sitting, rushing to the door and opening it with haste. (Y/n) quickly followed, asking all reasonable questions.

“Poe, whats’s going on? Does the order-“

His head snapped around and was soon followed by his body, which had been previously fiddling with the lock. He placed his hands tight on her arms and gave her a little smile.

“No. Definitely not, I made sure of that. We’ll be safe.”

“So who’s on the other side of the door?”

Poe said nothing, just smirked and turned back around to open the door. On the other side was a little droid, white and orange, and all too familiar. She dropped to the ground at seeing him, smiling wide and hugging the droid.

“Beebs!”

“He was following me, I guess we shut the door on him.”

A series of beeps and boops caused (y/n) to laugh.

“Yeah, he sounds pretty steamed.”

“Eh, he’ll get over it.”

The three of them settled back inside the house, enjoying what little time they had.

The night passed quickly, in a mixture of chatting, dancing, and kissing, catching up on the life that they hadn’t gotten to live together for so long. The two of them lied down to sleep, still cuddled up close. It was incredible to have her in his arms, to finally know she was safe and happy.

“Darling,”

She hummed in response, prompting him to continue

“I love you so much, you know that?”

Her small laugh echoed on his chest.

“Yeah, you’ve said it a lot tonight. And for the record, I love you too.”

She rose from her position ever so slightly to look him in the eyes.

“I love you so much.”

(Y/n) woke in the morning, with a distinct lack of warmth. The spot beside her on the bed was vacant, clearly previously occupied, but no longer. He had left already. She sunk into her body, not quite sad, just a little dreary. He was gone already and he didn’t even say goodbye. She wasn’t angry, she couldn’t be. He was out, fighting for a better life, for both of them. He was doing what she wished she had the courage to do. But the warmth in her heart, the butterflies in the cage of her ribs, they were so bright just a few hours earlier. When the sky was dark and the crickets and cicadas buzzed, she had so much joy. And it wasn’t totally gone. Or maybe she didn’t want it to be. But there was no denying that something was missing from her heart. A gaping hole that she’d grown used to in recent months. But last night, she had felt it again. A drop of water after ages in the desert, just to return to the sand and heat. And with this hole in her heart, she curled into a small lump of empty sadness, within a cocoon of sheets and blankets that still smelled like him. She could still hear his footsteps, walking about the house alongside the droid.

“(Y/n)? Everything alright?”

She snapped up, half out of spite, just to prove to herself that it wasn’t real, that she was seeing things. But there he was, standing with a glass of water in hand, and the droid by his side. In a flash, she was out of the bed and bounding across the room towards him. Her arms made their way over his shoulders, her body pressed flush against his. She clutched him like he was the only thing in the world, like her life depended on it. He was startled to say the least.

“(Y/n)?”

“I thought you left,”

He wrapped his arms around her in solidarity and understanding. The war had done so much to them, to their whole world. There had been many times in which Poe had woken up, in his shitty Resistance cot, in a daze. He thought, for just a moment, that she had been there. That the pillow between his arms was her, and that he was home. But then his gaze would clear, he would look around, and reality would be all the more devastating.

“You didn’t even say goodbye-“

And again, he could feel his heart breaking.

“Oh darling…” he cooed.

“I would never,”

She hummed, nuzzling further into his chest.

The two of them slowly made their way to the kitchen, not really saying anything. There was a bag on the table, one that held a bit of food (y/n) recognized from her refrigerator. He was planning to eat on the ship.

“Do you have to go?”

Poe looked to his feet, struggling to spit out the words he wished weren’t true.

“I think so, yeah.”

“Ok.”

She went to put on day clothes and then walked to the door, where she found Poe and BB-8 waiting.

“Let me walk you to your ship.”

They walked hand in hand out the door. Around the back of the house and out toward the field, they walked, slowly and full of hesitation. Poe closed his eyes for a moment. He soaked in all he could of home. The warm breeze, the smell of the flowers in her garden, the sun on his skin, and of course, her hand in his. They arrived at the ship in little time, where they saw some orange-clad pilot waiting.

“Where were you all night, huh lover boy? Not even a note?”

“Sorry man. Couldn’t exactly wait.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. C’mon. We gotta get back.”

The pilot walked back into the ship, leaving just (y/n) and Poe, lying in wait. For once, the ever optimistic and witty pilot was downtrodden, unsure of how to continue, and far too saddened to try.

“I guess this is goodbye.”

(y/n) was silent, considering his words with care.

“No, I don’t think so. I think it’s until I see you again. ‘Cause we will.”

“Hmm. Okay, until I see you again.”

He kissed her forehead before cupping her face in his hands.

“It’ll all be over one day. I promise.”

“I know. I’ll see you then.”

Both of them had tears welling in their eyes as they pressed together, kissing for what was hopefully not the last time.

“I love you. I love you so much.”

“I love you too. So so much.”

With a final kiss, Poe walked onto the ship. He looked back to see her, wiping tears from her eyes as she backed up. He had taught her to do so long before the war, to avoid getting debris in her eyes. He felt his heart swell with joy, a bit of pride, but mostly sorrow. And he too wiped a tear or two away, watching as home got smaller and smaller. But he would be back, one day.

Until I see you again, darling.

[alwritey-aphrodite]

And just because I couldn´t stop myself... what about "not realizing they’re holding hands till someone points it out" with You Are In Love Poe 🥺🥺🥺 I'll give you a cookie🥺🥺🥺

This takes place at some point (really wherever you feel like it fits :))

Despite the fact that winter was supposed to be over and done with, there was still snow falling and consistently freezing temperatures. If you were walking outside, you practically had to run from place to place to prevent turning into a human popsicle, but even that was difficult with the icy ground.

Because the weather had been so inconsistent, the snow would melt one day and then freeze into sheets of ice the next, making it practically impossible to do anything but shuffle around when you’re outside.

Even though you’re fully aware of all the dangers, especially for someone as clumsy as you can be, Poe still manages to convince you to go on a walk with him. The restaurant Finn had picked for your group’s night out was only a short walk from your apartment, and Poe claimed that parking would be a nightmare.

Whether you were super gullible or just looking for a few extra minutes to spend with Poe, you agreed to walk with him, even though you regretted that as soon as you stepped outside and felt the cold biting at your face and any other exposed skin. Poe waved and made his way out of his car, and you suddenly felt much warmer.

The journey took much longer than it should have due to all the shuffling you needed to do instead of walking, but you couldn’t say you minded much. It felt as if the conversation was flowing out of you, just catching up with Poe and sharing stories from your week.

Though, at one point, you stepped on an especially slick patch of sidewalk and you would have landed flat on your ass if it wasn’t for Poe’s quick reaction.

“You alright?”

“Mhm,” you responded, even though you weren’t sure if your heart was pounding because of your almost-fall or because of how close Poe was standing to you.

Any more accidents were avoided, and you made it to the restaurant only a few minutes after the rest of your group. There was plenty of room in the parking lot, but you found that you didn’t mind much. Your legs felt absolutely frozen, and you couldn’t really feel your face, but you started to warm almost immediately after entering the building.

It didn’t take long for you to find your friends, though you were thrown off by the way Finn looked at you as you approached the table. He looked from you to Poe down to the space between your bodies, continuing the circuit as you walked closer and closer.

Finally, you looked down at the space Finn was staring at only to start staring yourself: you and Poe were holding hands.

The two of you were walking gloved hand in gloved hand and you hadn’t even noticed. It must have been when you fell, and then neither of you let go or really comprehended what you were doing. Maybe the cold was affecting your brains.

Now, though, you let go of Poe’s hand to slide into your seat, surprised at how empty you feel. As you open your menu, staring at the page but thinking about how cold your hand feels, Poe realizes just how much he enjoys being near you.

[cactusmisslittle]

Study Aid (Edward Nashton x Reader)

Summary: You decide that Edward needs a lesson in political theory. GN reader, but Edward gets fucked (whether with a dick or a strap-on is up to interpretation). This started as a joke but I don't think it's a joke anymore please help.

Word Count: 672

Warnings: 18+, degradation, dom/sub dynamics, modified spelling for emotional effect which may not be screen-reader friendly (such as drawn out syllables, etc.)

"Pl - hah! - pleaaase!"

Edward whined plaintively beneath you, his hips bucking back in a weak attempt to get more friction. You weren't having it, of course, and held his hips down securely.

"Keep going, baby boy," you cooed, placing a soft kiss on his temple.

A sob was your only response as Edward tried to pull himself together enough to do as you asked. You couldn't exactly blame him, to be fair. This wasn't exactly an easy task for him.

After one too many livestreams went sour, you had gotten tired of your boyfriend's edgy, 4chan-esque variety of anarchism and decided that it was about time he read some actual political theory. No matter what it took. One thing led to another, and now, here you were: hilt-deep inside Edward as you pinned him to the table he was bent over. Directly below his face, you'd opened up a copy of Anarchism and Other Essays, and though you kept one arm twisted behind his back, the other was free to turn the pages as he read.

"Come on, Eddie." You gave his wrist a playful squeeze, relishing the shudder that ran through his body at your words. "You want me to fuck you, don't you?"

"Yes! Yesyesyes, please, I-"

"Then keep reading."

A strangled whimper died in Edward's throat and he steeled himself, setting his jaw determinedly.

"...Every st-st- oh, fuck!" His jaw fell agape as you finally began to move again, fucking him at an agonizingly slow pace. You clicked your tongue in warning, and he scrambled to continue. "-stimulus which qu- nng! - quickens theeeeeeeEE imaginatio - ohhh... - on and raises th-the spirits is as necess-ess-essar-ry to our l-life as air!"

As though only reminded by that last bit that he did in fact need to breathe, he gasped sharply beneath you and looked over his shoulder pathetically. His big eyes were wet with tears and you might feel bad for him if it weren't so goddamn hot.

"Good boy. Keep going."

The next sentence didn't go much better than the previous, and by the time he'd choked out a third, his chest was heaving as he wept and convulsed beneath you. You growled softly and tugged on his hair, forcing his head back upright.

"Honestly, how pathetic is this? You claim to be this great visionary, but I put a book in front of you and you can barely read."

Edward sniffled, but the needy moan that escaped his throat and the steady stream of precum dribbling from his cock assured you that he was enjoying this far more than he let on.

"'m sorry…" he mumbled, his voice breaking in a way that really shouldn't be as attractive as it was, "A-a Byron and a - hng! - and a Poe have st-stirred humaaaANITYYY!"

His speech was cut off by another garbled moan when your hips snapped forward particularly roughly. He wailed as his hips rutted back mindlessly to meet your thrusts. Feeling cruel, you decided to keep up the rough pace. You wanted your boy wrecked.

"- deep-deeper tha - ah - an all the - oh, god! - Puritans caneverhopeTODOOO! Oh, fuck, please, how much more?!"

You laughed and slowed down a little to let him breathe, running your nails gently over his scalp. Despite his general wretchedness, Edward practically purred at the gentle touch and leaned into it, much like a cat getting its belly rubbed.

"You're doing a good job for me, Eddie," you said softly, momentarily pivoting from the crueller act you'd put on earlier. It seemed to do its job, as you could see him preening under your praise. "Just a couple more pages. Think you can do that for me?"

Edward whimpered at the thought. He hadn't even gotten through a full page yet. How long would several more take? His cock twitched at the thought, and he nodded.

"O-okay..."

He took a deep breath and continued to read. It would be a long night ahead of him.

[2braincellslz]

Caffeine

Plot: on out reach day, tyler gets really badly affected by the comments and weird looks. (Y/n) comforts him.

Warning: people being dicks and looking down on Tyler.

School wasn't… awful. Nevermore made at least a little bit enjoyable. There was always something happening or something to look forward to. Whether it was the poe cup or a Rave-in or something going on with wednesday. 

After everything that happened with the Hyde and Ms. Thornhill and the pilgrims, life seemed to slow down. Being at home was much less exciting than what happened. Going back to school wasn't even as interesting. The only real interesting thing was that Hyde (or Tyler) had broken free. 

It became a big hunt for the whole town but the longer and longer the normies were hunting the more and more guilt the kids and nevermore felt. 

Tyler wasn't in control. Tyler was being manipulated. He didn't deserve what happened. He dosnt describe what is happening now. 

Groups of kids (with the permission of the school) went out in search. After about three weeks, they found the poor blond, cold, alone, and practically starving.

They took him back, dressed up, and fixed him up. But then came the hard question, what to do with him? God knows that normies wouldn't accept him back into the town nor his dad. They couldn't just stick him back in the forest to be hunted. 

The student body (basically just the nightshades) along with the teachers and the new principal pondered long and hard on these questions. They were just going in circles at this point.

Till (Y/n) stopped it with a simple “What if he just stays at Nevermore as a student?”

“What?” Bianca asked, leaning forward over the table.

“He is one of us, technically, I could keep an eye on him. Keep him calm.” 

“It would be better than letting him run free.” one of the teachers piped up.

“Do we tell people?” Enid asked, leaning in to Ajax.

“I feel as if we should.” The new principal, Mr. Snow, added.

“This… this could… ugh.” Bianca sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Well, if (Y/n) is going to be the one keeping an eye on the hyde then it's probably best if they share a room.”

And so it happened, Tyler was moved into (y/n)’s room, became a student, and practically became best friends with (y/n) overnight. 

Waking up with a new roommate was a tad odd. (y/n) had become used to the day to day with Kent. One of the biggest differences was there weren't as many hair products. Like… a lot less. Another big difference was that (Y/n) didn't have a crush on Kent.

Curse (y/n)’s big mouth. 

When did (Y/n)’s crush on the local barista strat? A while ago. Before Wednesday. Now (y/n) was sharing a room and spending basically all his time with him. (y/n) didn't know if this was a blessing or a curse. 

Another big difference was the eyes. People were always staring. Whether it be at Tyler or (y/n). People stared at Tyler for obvious reasons while people stared at (y/n) because… well…

It didn't matter. All that mattered was that the people who had a heart, or at least half of one, tried their best to push Tyler to become an active member of the school and the community outside of the Nevermore walls. 

Speaking of being a part of the community outside of school, it was proving to be exceedingly difficult. 

Outreach day was the real problem.

Tyler and (y/n) were both assigned to work the coffee shop, not exactly the best idea with all the foot traffic, but they were there.

“(y/n).” Tyler mumbled, grabbing the others' attention.

“Hm? What's up? What happened?” 

“One o’clock.” 

(Y/n) looked up from the cup of coffee he was working on when his eyes landed on the sheriff walking through the doors, and today was going so well.

(Y/n) watched as Tylers (ex) Dad glanced around the shop and then stopped at you.

“Slip in the back, I'll handle this.” (y/n) looked back over but Tyler was way ahead of him.

“(l/n)” (y/n)’s attention was drawn back to the sheriff. He put on his best customer service smile and voice.

“Hey, mr. sheriff sir. How can I help you?” 

“Outreach day, huh?” 

“Yes, sir.”

“Where's Tyler?” Wow, really no beating around the bush.

“I don't think they gave him a job, with all that happened, Y’know?” (y/n) lied through his teeth.

“I heard from Mr. Snow that you had volunteered to keep an eye on.” 

(y/n) only gave the sheriff a simple nod.

“Hm.” the sheriff gave (y/n) the quick once over. “Alright. Tall black coffee.”

(y/n) whipped up his drink as quickly as possible. Thank god he didn't decide to stick around to enjoy his drink. The tension in the air was so thick that you could cut it with a knife.

Other people came and went through the coffee shop. Some couples and kids with their friends. Familys. Singles. Kids from Nevermore that got a break. 

What there was plenty of was staring. After a while, the staring at school seemed to slow down. (y/n) almost forgot the feeling of judging eyes. 

(y/n) couldn't blame them though. It was weird seeing a guy that you knew caused too much pain just working a normal after school job. Tyler was definitely being affected by it. (y/n) could hear the comments that were whispered a little too loud to not be heard. Tylers face would twist it something of discomfort but like he was trying to hide it. 

Reassuring comments where passed from (y/n) to Tyler every now and again when the traffic in to the store slowed down.

Something liked “they dont mean it.” “dont listen to them.” “they dont know you. The you now.” but it didnt seem to help. Tyler would just humm in acknowledgment and move on to the next thing that he had to do.

--------------------------------------------------

The rest of the day didnt go as smooth as (y/n) would have hoped, ethier. 

When the pait finally where allowed to crash back in to their dorm, the usaly nightly conversation or movie or game didnt happen, it didnt seem like tyler was in the mood but that wouldnt stop (y/n) from trying to get something out of him.

(y/n) sat next to Tyler on his bed as he was pulling his shoes off.

“How are you feeling?” (y/n).

Tyler shook his head, sighing.

“Its better if you talk about it, Man.”

“I know you herd what they where saying about me.” tyler didnt mean it but there was a bit of a bite to his words.

“They dont know the you now. They cant accept people can change.” (y/n) said softly, taking Tylers hand in his.

“They still ment it.” Tyler kept his head hung, not sarong to look at his friend. “I still did thoes things.”

“But you are working on yourself. You are getting better.” (y/n) layed his head on Tylers shoulder.

No one was ever going to forget the things the hyde did but Tyler wasnt the hyde. He was trying to get better. Trying to control the hyde. 

“Thats all anyone could ever ask.” (y/n) said, barley above a whisper. 

“I shouldnt have trusted her.”

“You didnt know her intentions. No one can blame you for wanting a mother.” 

“I should have tried to fight back harder.” 

“You tired your best.”

“I should have told someone.”

“She wouldnt have let you.”

“I wish i could fix everything i did.”

“You are getting better, Tyler.” (y/n) rubbed his thumb over the top of Tylers knuckles. “You wernt in controle and you are getting better.” 

A gentle silence fell over the room and the two shared the domestic moment. They had never really been this close before. Never really talked to eachother this gently before. 

It was…

Comforting. 

“You are too nice to me.” (y/n) could here the smile building in Tylers voice.

Tyler layed his head on top of (y/n)’s. (y/n) let his eyes close, just enjoying the moment. 

“Do you want to go to the Rave-in with me?” (y/n) asked softly, his voice barley above a whisper. 

Tyler chuckled softly. “Sure. wear something pretty.”

“I will.” (y/n) promised. 

[1-800-local-slut]

Knocking

Sam Winchester x Black! Goth! Fem! reader

Sam is haunted by a memory

Warnings: angst, reader doesn't appear in this, it's all from Sam's point of view after they broke up, and we also don't know why they broke up. Sam doesn't know if he wants her back or not. It could've been Sam's fault or hers, anger, is he having a nightmare? A vivid hallucination? I'm not totally sure myself. Sam and reader may have been toxic or obsessive but we don't know who was worse.

I adore Edgar Allan Poe's work, I've been a fan of gothic literature since I was a little kid and writing this character has been really nice for me. I've studied his works since I was a young girl, and I try to replicate his writing style a lot. I also try to follow his workings of every word adding something to the story. I really hope I pulled it off, I'm really passionate about this one. Please let me know your thoughts!

I feel like I never give Sammy enough love </3

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Since they broke up, Sam's nights were long and filled with loneliness. Since she left, he was no more cursed than the people he helped with ghastly issues revolving around ghosts of the past. How ironic, that he was now the haunted one. The torment of his life, from his mothers life being ripped away right before his young eyes to now could never compare to this pain.

Her dark brown eyes seemed to be in the moon, the night sky, everything around him. His work impeded, of course because he mainly works at night, stopped simply because she was gone. Her dark hair reflected in every surface, in every rose he saw, each star in the sky.

Shrouded in pain, the room silently slipped away from around him. Was this it? His grip on sanity finally leaving him once and for all? No. Like his body was being shaken and squeezed, then released. Still in the same pain and agony.

Now, he laid alone in his bed. His room, empty and his arms bereft of her. Yet, if he shut his eyes he could imagine the pillow beside him was her. He could imagine the soft silk, the feel of her skin, her scent filling his nostrils.

A soft, scratching noise was heard through the halls, a scampering that scratched his brain. Morphing into a noise he missed, of feet padding down the hall to his room. Should he sit up? What was the point? A monster there to eradicate him, would ease his pain and suffering. The sound stopped, right before his door a familiar pair of black socks sitting outside his door. It couldn't be, could it? His love coming back?

No. It couldn't be. Not after his mistakes. After those she made, could he let her back? Had she truly made any against him? Was he even sure anymore? A knocking tore him from his despairing thoughts, soft and sweet. Like her knocking.

It couldn't be. More knocking followed, and it grew louder with each soft beat. Gentle raps pounded through his skull.

"Go away, Dean." The mutter was soft as the knocks, yet it did nothing against his persistent visitor. More knocking.

"Dean, stop." No other solution existed. It had to be Dean.

"It's not Dean." Was all he heard. The voice haunted him, sending shocks through his mind, at the haunting voice. It wasn't her. She swore she would never return. Or had he forced her to that oath? His blood pumped rapidly, palms began to perspire against the cold of the room. His stomach turned, an empty coldness.

Knocking followed.

"It isn't." It isn't you. That was all he could do against the thrum of fear through his body. Eyes seared him through the door, and his eyes burned with tears. Tears of anger burned him, and tears of sadness cooled his heart. All he wanted was to tear the door off its hinges.

Whether to scream her away, and welcome her back into his arms he was unsure. Would he make his same mistake? Would he scare her off once more? Would she force her way into his heart once again? Force her way into his everything? The way she had before?

"No." He breathed, his breath into the cold room. More knocking.

"Go. I want you to go." More knocking, as if to say 'I will never go'. The way she had before. Dragging him down into depths of instability. Had he given her any option? He persisted, holding her down with the passion of his intense love. But was it not her, who drove him to those insane lengths? Matching her intense adoration was part of their passionate dance that ended in tragedy.

Her knock repeated, like saying 'you know that isn't true'. Was it not true? Would she come back even if he wanted her to?

"If it was you would you come back?" The one thing he wanted, he was given no response. A chill went through him then a flash of heat. A flash of anger. Why come to toy with his mind and heart more than she already had?

"Answer me. Would you come back?" A singular knock.

As if to say 'no'. No? What answer is no? If not the answer he already knew? Isn't ‘no’ the answer he truly desired? Had he lied to himself all this time?

The wrath of God cut through him. What torments him? What has the audacity to torment him more than it has already? Her. Her spirit continued to torment him, through violence and wanting. What did he want? What did she desire? Did she desire to torment him? It was her one true desire.

Of course, how could he not see it sooner. How could he not see how weak and foolish he was to fall to her traps of love? Her dark fabrics, and raven hair. Her silver chains, and dark makeup entrapped him.

More knocks, six to be exact, rang through his skull. An evil noise that tore his heart out, the way their ending had. Had she not done enough to him? Had her obsessive calling, consistent hours of bickering over nonsense?

'Where have you been? Who's calling? What's wrong with you? Why don't you love me anymore? Why don't you answer my calls?' Constantly, never allowing his heart space to beat on its own. Were the questions unwarranted? Had he done better? Not precisely. Yet, it tore him apart when he no longer had her.

Oh! How his heart pounded, like the knocking that carried on through his room. Though his heart and head both told him two different things. To chase her off. To pull her back in. What was it he wanted?

"I said go!" He breathed, throat raw from the hours of crying. A single knock sounded and no more. As if to say 'no' once more.

"Is it even you?" He choked out, pushing his heavy body. It was like he had been dragged through glass, each emotion he felt stabbing him like a new shard.

Another knock. No, or yes?

"Is it you?" He bellowed, with instant regret. It was his yelling that soured their bond. He yelled for reasons. But it was the yelling that played a large part.

His head throbbed, and he flopped back down onto his stomach in pain. The room spun, that same darkness squeezed him once more, his heart cried 'no more!'. Could Sam take more? No, no more. It was time for an end.

"I do not want you back, go." He breathed, cold breath coming out into the room. He dragged his weakened body from the bed, the floor feeling false under his feet.

Yet another knock. Another no?

"Did you want me back?" No response.

"Go!" He screamed, and his eyes throbbed behind his head.

"Why have you come?" The knocking started again. Monotonous and cruel.

"Did you come to mess with me? Did you come here, to try and convince me to take you back? Do you want to come back? What is it, what do you want?!" Tripping over a dark object on the ground, he fell just before the door. Seeing the black socks under the crack of the door. Then more knocks.

Slowly, as Sam listened, his tear ducts gave out.

"Please go. I don't know what it is I want from you, but I can't take it anymore." Louder and louder the knocks increased in volume and force, as if an attempt to remove his door.

"Go, please. Did you want to hurt me? You have, please. Go. Or come back, I can't take anymore. I'll have either." Pleading, his arms rubbed against the ground and the cold chafed his skin.

As Sam's heart weakened, the knocks did as well. Was it a wait for him to crack? Was she waiting for him to get to the point where he could take no more?

Broken sobs tore through his broken lungs, and he shivered from the cold. The socks slipped away down the hall, yet the knocks continued to sound through his head. And for each question he asked, a singular knock came in response.

The soft steps retreated, but the knocking did not. And the cry of Sam's heart continued to plead for 'no more'.

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I love Sam, he's such a cutie pie <3

[silvfyre-writings]

Snapshots Pt. 6 (BSD Fanfic)

The plot bunnies have hit me hard, because not only am I nearly finished the next chapter of paperboy au, but I smashed out this chapter in just a few hours which, honestly, is impressive considering I slept most of today haha.

I'd also like to point out that no matter how much a tried, this chapter refused to be written in past tense, so um, enjoy the present tense I guess?

Anyways, enjoy the chapter!!!

Everyone had scars.

It didn’t matter whether they were minor scars from childhood mishaps, or major ones from near death experiences, everyone had scars, and every scar had a story to tell. The stories that they held weren’t always obvious; time and trauma often led to those stories being lost, and while it was sad to no longer know the truth behind the scars, sometimes it was simply for the best that they be forgotten. Because there were times where the stories were just too painful to remember, and it was safer to just forget about them in the first place.

Like Poe had.

Poe had acquired many scars over his twenty-eight years of living, and there were only a few that he actually remembered the origin of. There were the scars on his knees, brought into existence when he’d ridden a bike for the first time and fallen down an embankment, ripping his knees to shreds. It hadn’t just been his knees that he’d torn apart that day, but they’d been the only part of him to scar, so that was what he remembered. There was also the scar beneath his eye that he’d gotten after running headfirst into the dining table as a child, nearly blinding himself on top of the concussion he’d given himself. And then there was the scar on his elbow, where he’d had to have surgery after a fall had broken it.

Those were the scars that Poe looked back on fondly, for they were the ones with the kind of stories that you could tell other people around a cup of coffee or share after a few drinks with friends.

But there were scars on Poe’s body that whenever someone asked him about them, he couldn’t give an answer, because he just didn’t know the stories behind them. He had a vague idea of what had caused them, but no distinct memory of how they had happened in the first place. There were two burn scars on his shoulder, in a shape that could only belong to cigarette’s, and he knew what had caused them, but he couldn’t remember how. There was a series of small scars located just below his ribs that could only have come from being stabbed, but again, he had no memory of ever being stabbed in the first place. And then there was the one scar that Poe did remember, the one scar that would send him into a panic if someone so much as acknowledged it; a scar that was both on his stomach and his back, where he’d once been impaled by a fire poker after his adoptive father had had too much to drink.

It was such a small scar, yet held a memory so powerful that Poe wished it’d been one he could forget—that wasn’t to say he hadn’t tried, because he had. But apparently, out of all the scars that Poe had, that was one he was destined to remember forever. And it was because of that scar, and the story behind it that he couldn’t forget, that he became interested in the stories behind other people’s scars; he never asked people outright how they obtained them, because that was rude and Poe already had a hard enough time talking to people as is.

Over the years, Poe heard many stories, and saw many scars, yet it wasn’t until he met Ranpo again that his interest piqued.

When he’d first met Ranpo, back when he was twenty-two, his rival had been loud and exuberant, but most of all, he’d been soft, and not in the way most people would think. No, Ranpo was soft in that his skin was unmarked, free of the stories that a person’s skin told—or at least, so Poe had thought. It’d been at the end of their competition, when Poe had been filled with despair over losing and on his knees that he’d seen it; Ranpo’s shirt, a size too big, had allowed Poe to see a scar, a story that told him Ranpo wasn’t as soft as he appeared.

But Poe had been filled with too much despair and fury for his curiosity to surface, so that knowledge was forced to the back of the mind where, six years later, he’d long forgotten about it.

Poe’s reminded of that day when he and Ranpo are in bed, lazily trading kisses with each other, and his fingers trail over a piece of raised skin on Ranpo’s abdomen. Poe pauses for just a moment before he presses another kiss to Ranpo’s lips, and runs his thumb over the scar he’d just felt. Ranpo shivers underneath his touch, eyes flicking open, and Poe moves to kiss his partner’s cheek, murmuring against his skin. “You have a scar here.”

Ranpo blinks, and Poe brushes the raised skin again, which brings realization to Ranpo’s eyes, and the detective leans up to capture Poe’s lips with his own again. “I have a lot of scars, Poe-kun.”

“You do?” Poe questions, and Ranpo nods, a wary look on his face now, a stark difference to the look of bliss that he’d had earlier. “How come I’ve never seen these ones?”

Ranpo groans and sinks into the bed, throwing his arms over his face to hide, which does nothing but allow Poe to see more of the scars he didn’t know Ranpo had. Poe knew that from Ranpo’s reaction to his question, that Ranpo didn’t want to talk, but he was pretty sure that that was just because the other just wanted to return to their kissing session. Over the time they’d been involved with each other, Poe had learnt to differentiate between when Ranpo genuinely didn’t want to talk about something, and when he didn’t want to talk about something because of the mood they were in. And in this case, it was the later, but no matter.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Poe shifts lower so that he can graze his lips over the scar with a gentle, but featherlight touch. “But I’d love to hear the stories behind your scars.”

“Ever the storyteller, even when making out with me.” Ranpo chuckles, lowering his arms, one coming to pat at Poe’s hair. “That one’s from when I had my appendix removed. Before my parents died.”

Poe hums and trails his lips up towards Ranpo’s chest, ignoring the way Ranpo shivers from the touch, to the next scar; a straight line down the middle of the detective’s chest that was still fairly pink. “And this one?”

Ranpo threads his hand into Poe’s hair. “Heart surgery. I got shot last year, and the bullet got stuck, so Yosano couldn’t use her ability without actually killing me.”

“Yosano is a talented doctor, even without her ability.” Poe says, rising onto his elbows and gazing down at Ranpo’s face. He takes a moment to study his partner’s face, looking for any signs of discomfort, and when he finds none, he dips his head to kiss the tip of Ranpo’s nose. “Heart surgery is dangerous, so I’m glad it was successful.”

“As if a bullet is enough to bring me down.” Ranpo grins at him, eyes opening just enough for Poe to fall into their green depths. Ranpo uses that brief moment of distraction to his advantage, pulling Poe closer for a deeper kiss that he is quick to reciprocate.

Poe lets the kiss go on longer than any of their other ones, pulling away with a smile on his face as he continues on his journey in mapping out Ranpo’s scar. He find the next one on Ranpo’s shoulder, close to his neck, and this is one he doesn’t kiss, but he bring a hand up to run his fingers over. Unlike the other scars Poe had touched, this scar is indented rather than raised, and he can tell from the way that Ranpo freezes beneath him that he’s about to step into unfamiliar territory. “What about this one?”

Ranpo is silent for a long time, so long that Poe is just about to apologize and move on when he speaks. “I can’t tell you the whole story… but that one’s from my time on the streets.”

“I understand.” And Poe did understand, because some scars were just too painful to talk about. He kisses the skin next to the scar. “If you do ever want to tell me…”

“I know.” Ranpo relaxes and his hand falls from Poe’s hair to rest in between his shoulder blades. “You’ll be there to listen.”

Poe moves on quickly after that, but the next scars he winds up at—a series of scars actually—that fall under the same category as the one on Ranpo’s shoulder. The only difference between these ones and the previous one, is that these are scars that Poe was already aware of the existence of, and that was only because there’d been recent additions after the war between the Guild and the Agency. Poe intertwines his hand with Ranpo’s, drawing his arm close; it gives Ranpo plenty of time to refuse him, but the detective just stares at him with open eyes. There’s a little bit of tension forming with Ranpo’s body, which gives Poe the courage he needs to kiss the scars on Ranpo’s arm. He gives light kisses to the lines that are faded, and firmer kisses to the ones that are still pink and fresh.

“You know the story behind those already.” Ranpo says before Poe can even ask the question. There’s a pained look now that has Poe squeezing Ranpo’s hand. He does indeed know the story behind those scars, remembers the tears that followed as Ranpo told him, so he doesn’t ask, he just kisses each individual scar once more before he moves on.

The next scar he finds is on Ranpo’s upper arm, a thin line from being grazed by a stray bullet. After that, he moves to Ranpo’s other arm where the only scars are the ones on his elbow and wrist; an accident not long after he’d been taken in by Fukuzawa where he’d fallen down some stairs and broken his arm bad enough to need surgery. Poe can’t help but smile as he runs his fingers over those scars, and Ranpo pouts at him. “What, aren’t those ones worthy of kisses?”

“Of course they are.” Poe’s smile grows wider and he kisses the raised skin beneath his fingers. “I was simply marvelling over how we have similar scars.”

Ranpo’s hand slides down to feel Poe’s own scar, and his mouth drops open a little. “How did you break your arm?”

“I fell out of a tree when I was seven.” Poe explains. “But I only broke my elbow when I fell, unlike you.”

Ranpo scoffs as his fingers continue to dance across Poe’s skin. “Fukuzawa says I have bones of glass because he’s never seen someone break bones as much as I do.”

“Oh? Just how many bones have you broken then?” Poe says, intrigued now, and he plans his chin on Ranpo’s chest so that he can listen to the other.

“Well, aside from my arm, I have broken…” Ranpo trails off as he thinks. It takes him a couple of minutes before he continues. “Two fingers, an ankle, three ribs, a leg… oh! I also broke my other wrist twice.”

I think we need to start injecting you with calcium. Poe stares, both amazed and mildly horrified at just how many bones Ranpo has broken throughout the course of his life. He makes a mental vow to wrap his partner in bubble wrap whenever they leave the house from now on, and to coerce Ranpo into drinking more milk; he understands now, why the President of the Agency had said Ranpo had bones of glass, because it was true.

“Why the sudden interest in my scars anyway?” Ranpo says when Poe just continues to stare at him, bringing a hand to brush Poe’s hair out of his face, trailing his hands through tangled locks in a way that has Poe relaxing into the other’s arms.

“I’ve always had an interest.” Poe murmurs. “Every scar has a story to tell, whether it be light-hearted and funny, or dark and fearful. I find it fascinating how some people wear their scars with pride and share the stories of how they got them so easily, while there are others who are fearful and refuse to speak of them. And, well, I am a writer at heart, so I love hearing those stories when they are shared with me.”

Ranpo is silent and still, so still, that Poe lifts himself up to he can see Ranpo’s face easier to try and determine what the other is thinking about. What he sees is hesitation, and a little bit of fear; it’s a look that has Poe frowning. “What is it?”

“Would you like to know?” Ranpo asks him.

“Know what?”

Instead of answering, Ranpo shifts the shoulder of the indented scar, and Poe gives his partner a soft smile, leaning forward to place a kiss against Ranpo’s forehead. “If it makes you uncomfortable or afraid, then no, I do not wish to know. You only need tell me if you want to tell me.”

Ranpo hums.

“Do you want to tell me?” Poe presses, and Ranpo sighs before he shakes his head. “Then you don’t need to tell me.”

“But you’re curious now—”

“My curiosity does not come before your comfort, Ranpo-kun.” Poe kisses Ranpo’s forehead once again, and then his nose, his cheek, before he tenderly brushes his lips against Ranpo’s own; Ranpo relaxes with each kiss, and his arms come to wrap around Poe’s waist, holding him close. Neither of them say anything, letting the conversation die off as they, once again, get lost within each other with gentle touches and affectionate gestures.

One day, you’ll tell me the story of that scar, Ranpo-kun, and it will be a story worth hearing.

[allanthepatriarch]

Vampire Edgar Allan Poe

— Very secretive. You’d have to work very hard to charm him and get to know him. (He’s smitten after the second date.)

— At first, you didn’t notice the strange things about him until you kept getting closer and closer to him. He did his best to make sure you would back off but you had always come back to him. At one point, he began to allow you in his bubble.

— You noticed how cold he always was, rarely went out in the sun and never ate. You were suspicious, believing he was not taking care of himself.

— You confronted him about it and he left in a panic, you were worried.

— Poe eventually confessed about his species on a dark and rainy night. He was unable to control his desire and lust for blood, ending up with you pinned to the wall with him sucking the liquid out of you. (He couldn’t help himself, you tasted so sweet to him.)

— Immediately after coming back to his senses, he apologized and broke down. You comforted him the best you could and let him reveal all the struggles and pain that came with being a vampire.

— As for being a creature of the night, he is a night owl. He enjoys journaling underneath the full moon and is usually much more open and soft around you.

— He loves your body heat and the warmth you give off. It makes him feel relaxed, your heat against his cool skin. (He subtly tries to hold your hand all the time.)

— Usually snacks up on blood bags he steals from the Hospital; took him a lot of courage to fully be comfortable around you with his vampiric side.

— He loves, loves biting you. His tongue sliding down your skin before plunging his fangs deep into you as he sucks the blood out of you. After feeding, he licks the deep bites and his tongue goes in circular movements around the two holes.

— While he enjoys biting you, he loves caressing your skin. The softness and pure warmth gives his fingertips tingles as he continues to rub his hands against your skin. The heat makes his heart warm.

— Your lips and your thighs are his favorites. The soft taste of your lips and the touch of your squishy thighs. (He’s putting marks everywhere.)

— His poetic side says your eyes are his favorite thing about your looks. The beautiful color is absolutely stunning and takes his breathe away. (The amount of love and expression revealed in your eyes is what really takes his breathe away.)

— One day, you realize Poe can go into the sun. He says he uses a daylight ring to allow him to go out and about. Your surprised and you make him go out with you every once in awhile. (Every time he whines, you shut him up with a kiss. Sometimes he does it on purpose.)

— He makes a warm cup of coffee for himself in the morning with a touch of blood in it. He always makes you a drink and a pastry to start your day. (He likes doing things for you. So much, he wouldn’t mind you dominating him. He’s shy about it though.)

— His vampiric side consists of red eyes and fangs, showing up frequently when he’s hungry.

— More of a submissive and passive vampire. When he’s with others, he tends to be a bit guarded yet shy. People underestimate him due to the way of attitude. (Knowingly uses it to his advantage.)

— Switch. You and him could go either. He’s more submissive when he isn’t desiring blood and more himself. Although he’s much more shy and embarrassed, his emotions displayed on his face easily. You find it cute, he finds it embarrassing.

— He doesn’t mind trying things out but he loves doing anything with you whether it’s hugging or grinding against one another.

— He’s more impatient and frustrated when he’s hungry. Usually gets straight to the point with you and takes in consideration of how much blood he can take from you. (He loves when you make him wait for you, make him do whatever you want before he gets his reward.)

— He does get his insecurities about it, suffering for the immortality he gets from being one of them or having to survive by drinking the blood of a human. When you finally reassure him, he hugs you and cuddles up with you.

— He was turned by Fitzergerald in the 1800-1900s. He was dying and Fitzergerald gave him the power of immortality/being a vampire.

— Nowadays, you and Poe live a quiet life with a touch of supernatural.

— Poe loves you and slowly by time, you ask him to turn you into a creature of the night. He says yes.

[dilf-din]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💙💙

This is sweet, thank you nonnie!!

Initially I saw this and was like “wow, 5 is so many,” then I looked at my masterlist and realized I’ve posted 40 things the past few months alone! So that was super encouraging to realize.

Answering under the cut, because I’m including a snippet of each :)

Though I’m only 2 chapters in, I’ve loved writing for Cassian and Jyn in When All the Ash Settles

Another pair of boots rushed into the room, and only when she heard Cassian’s voice calling her name did she come back down into her body. The sound returned to her ears, her racing heart steadied, and she found the strength to turn and face him. He smelled of a shower, his skin missing the black film that he had when she last saw him.

“Jyn,” he said softly, taking her now empty hands into his own.

“She hasn’t said a word,” Mon Mothma said quietly.

“Jyn, can you hear me?” he crouched to be eye level with her, his brown eyes earnestly searching for any trace of her that rang true, any part of her soul that wasn’t rended that day.

“Yes,” her voice came out small, but it was hers.

A Million Little Heartbeats is my favorite thing I’ve written for Joel and Ellie. The idea hit me over the head like a shovel, and I cranked it out in one afternoon.

Ellie had the sleeves of her flannel rolled up, and the hairs on the bits of her forearm that were exposed were standing on end. Her hair was getting longer, she had taken to pulling half of it back to keep it out of her eyes just like Tess wore it. Whether that decision was subconscious or an homage to their fallen friend, the small reminder sent a pang through Joel’s chest the first few times he saw her like that.

He sat back in awe, reveling in how much she had grown since they first met in Boston. He never thought he’d get another chance to see a kid grow up. It’s like she picked up right where Sarah left off, a little gift from the universe to mend his heart back together.

The Suddenly-verse is my pride and joy. My first one shot for it will be up soon!

Neither of you acknowledged the crawling pace you were walking at, enjoying the other’s company too much to think about going to your own spaces and spending another night alone. The summer air was heavy with a dry heat. The sound of your footfall on the grey stones fell away to hushed steps on a dusty path as you crossed over into the old part of town. On the side of nearly every clay structure hung an old lantern flickering with a soft orange light, as if dusk had come down and planted a gentle kiss on her way to bed. The blush of intimacy coloring the streets as the moon and stars took their place in the sky above.

I’m a sucker for the Miller family. I write them more than anything. Fifteen Seconds, Sixteen Years is something is something I wrote about Tommy and Joel looking back on Sarah’s life two years into the outbreak.

Tommy buried his head in his hands and drew in a deep breath of salt air, his voice coming out with a tremor. “I was sixteen when we got her,” he choked out. Tears steaming down his face that he couldn’t stop it he wanted to.

Joel swallowed a new lump down. The reminders piling on year after year. The dates, weeks, times that reminded them both of her absence. The fifteen seconds too late Tommy had been hanging over him like a ghost every night. The color of the sky when he would pick her up from soccer practice twisting the knife in Joel’s chest each night at sundown. The thought of his baby brother holding his baby girl for the first time.

This is the most recent piece I posted, but I really loved the pining and longing I put into this one. Emergency Contact is a modern au that explores the starting steps of a relationship with Poe, an old friend from college.

The two of you fell into conversation easily, as if no time had passed. You blinked and you were twenty again, tucked into his bottom bunk and laughing until tears fell while he did a dramatic retelling of his encounter with a history professor. You were nineteen and crying on his couch because your date stood you up, and how could you be so stupid. His broad shoulders were always the perfect landing pad for your heavy head. You were eighteen and he was clinging to you like a life support on the anniversary of his mother’s death. And now you were twenty five, sharing your couch and a cup of coffee, talking about all the life that had happened since your last long talk.

[casspurrjoybell-20]

Sakura Mochi - Chapter 5 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

Poe the Fish - Kamihara Rin 

"Rin, heavens above, please stand still," Onaeni exclaimed from beside me, already at his wit's end.

I couldn't help it, though.

Today was special.

After months of begging my parents, Haru was coming to visit.

Sure, Mizuki and her parents have visited before, especially now that Akira and Mizuki are mated but Haru was never allowed to come over.

It sucked.

How could I have a friend I never saw?

We hadn't had any fancy events recently either, so Yuki and I had been in the dark about whether we'd see our friend again soon.

Today was it.

Finally, we could hang out without the uncomfortable heavy robes and boring adults.

We could have fun.

Yuki was as excited as I was as she bounced on her heels.

She was more subtle about her excitement than I was.

She squeezed my hand instead, trying to contain herself.

When we saw two dragons approaching the estate, a wide grin stretched across my face.

"HARU," I screamed, waving at the sky frantically.

"Rin," Oneani exclaimed, reaching out to grab my other hand to control me.

"Leave them be, Onaeni," Nobi spoke up.

They were usually on the quiet side.

Noni was the loud one between the two.

"They are excited. Let those two be children for a day."

"Your excellence, they are nobles, they shouldn't behave in such a manner in public," our nanny tried to explain but Nobi shook their head as a sign to end the discussion.

The two dragons landed before us.

They were gorgeous.

One was a bright, vibrant blue with shimmering green scales that seemed to move like gentle waves.

Their body was sleek and longer, perfect for swimming through the ocean.

The other was covered in frosty scales with beautiful icy horns.

Puffs of cold smoke left them as they breathed.

Their eyes were a piercing shade of icy blue that made me feel chilly.

Ice dragons weren't very common in our part of the kingdom.

We were a coastal town.

Water and forest dragons were much more common.

I supposed that was part of why Mizuki was chosen for Akira.

Mizuki had a unique bloodline to mingle with ours.

On top of the water dragon popped out a head of fluffy white hair.

"Rin. Yuki," it yelled, sliding off the dragon to run to us.

Yuki and I ran from Onaeni to meet our friend, converging on him in a tight group hug.

Haru laughed loudly and hugged us back.

"Did you get taller?" Yuki asked.

Once we pulled back, I realized that Haru had indeed gotten taller.

He had close to half a head on us now.

In fact, Haru looked different.

He looked older, more mature.

But, his smile was still the same.

Still as charming as ever.

When Haru laughed again, I snapped myself out of my thoughts to pay attention to him, surprised when I heard the deep voice that erupted from my friend.

"Yeah. I bloomed recently," he explained.

"Lucky," Yuki and I both exclaimed at the same time, taking a moment to glare at each other playfully.

Sure, we were twins but we were so different.

We didn't usually agree on things fully.

We were our own people, of course.

Whenever we did happen to connect mentally, it was a joke of ours to get pretend upset.

I hoped it would stay that way even when we grew up.

I loved my sister.

She was my other half.

She was my reason, wisdom, kindness and intelligence.

I was her curiosity, strength, impulsivity and confidence.

"Look what I can do," Haru boasted.

He touched his chest and slowly pulled his hand away.

As he did, a small flame followed his hand.

It was certainly tiny, very frail and thin but it was a pretty shade of icy blue, like the ice dragon's eyes.

It extinguished pretty quickly, causing us all to giggle.

"I'm still working on it," Haru explained bashfully, ducking his head.

"Children," Nobi called out.

We turned to face our parent and saw that they were with Haru's transformed parents now.

"We will be heading to my study. Please be good for Onaeni and don't cause any trouble. Understood Rin?"

"Why am I the one singled out," I whined, which made Yuki and Haru giggle.

Nobi raised an eyebrow at me, then offered a small shake of their head and a subtle smile.

The three adults left, leaving us with Onaeni.

"Alright, dears," Onaeni started, clapping his hands together.

"We're going to play calmly and quietly in the garden. Follow me."

[im-poe-dameron]

you're upset one night, and you don't know where to go, so you end up at your enemy's house, and as they open the door, you stay silent for a second, before saying (with tears in your eyes) ''i don't know where else to go.'' your enemy doesn't say anything. instead they pull you into their arms, giving you a shoulder to cry on.

- back at it again with another prompt! could i possibly get this one with my other favorite flyboy, poe dameron?

IT'S ALWAYS BELONGED TO YOU

a/n: okay so this has been in my inbox for SO LONG, but i got a huge spark of inspiration and was in the mood to write for poe. so out came whatever this fic is of enemies to lovers meets heated arguments meets well...........the good stuff. i finished this tipsy and half asleep so i don't even know if it makes sense but enjoy my darling!! (yes the title is from will turner). unedited and not beta read so there is most likely mistakes.

summary: injured from a fight at the cantina you seek out someone unexpected.

pairing: poe dameron x fem!reader

word count: 5.5k+ (i guess?!)

warnings: explicit so minors BEGONE, cussing, so much angst, bacta shot (aka involving a needle), pain, arguing, mentions of death, fingering, cum eating, overstimulation (blink and you'll miss it), fluff.

The frigid feeling of the night on your bare skin kept you from staying still and debating on whether or not this was a good idea. Somewhere in the brawl you forgot your jacket hanging on the back of your chair. The same jacket that once belonged to your father. You wanted to go back for it, but you’d been tossed out of the cantina for a reason and re-entering didn’t seem like a feasible option.

With reluctance filling every bone of your body, you made your way through the rain and back towards the camp you’d been tasked with protecting. You weren’t sure why you were put in the same group of people as the man who hated you so thoroughly is hurt at times–but there you were. A part of you wanted to fall into your slightly uncomfortable cot for the night; giving up without another thought.

Only you knew that if you showed up with a split lip and cuts on your knuckles, you’d be reprimanded to Corellia and back. Which left you with only one other option.

Sighing, you tightened your still bleeding hands into fists, trying to ignore the chills that spread rapidly down your spine.

His door looked more threatening than a whole horde of stormtroopers. It was a ridiculous notion to come to, but there you were–unable to simply knock and ask for help. You were hopeless when it came to admitting that you needed it in the first place. Asking someone–let alone the man who loathed your very being–made you realize that you’d rather face those stormtroopers. 

What were twenty men with blasters compared to this situation?

A cough wracked your body, sending a searing pain down your side as you practically shivered. It was then you realized the bastard from earlier has most likely snapped a rib or two.

How would you explain this? How could you come back from this?

Nothing was worse than asking someone you considered an enemy for help.

Fighting the urge to tuck your tail between your legs and run, you raised your arm–knocking assuredly on the door. There was absolutely no turning back now. Which is what you were afraid of.

The echo of rain hitting against metal rang in the clearing behind you–reminding you of what you’d have to walk through in order to get home. If he said no, laughed in your face and refused to help, you’d be horrified but you would go. After all, the both of you had treated one another with enough cruelty to make even Leia herself shocked. You weren’t even sure what caused this whole situation in the first place.

Why did you hate each other?

Why did you want to see him hurt and why did he want to do the same to you?

For months you could barely be in the same room together for more than five minutes before you were going at each other’s throats. Yet you were pretty sure if someone asked you what started it all–neither of you would have an answer. It just seemed to materialize out of thin air. The hatred seeping so far into your hearts, you couldn’t find a good enough reason to let go of it.

You vaguely heard him shuffling towards the door, a thump of him hitting something filtering through the metal.

There was still time. You could sprint the other way and forget this whole night ever happened. You’d patched yourself up numerous times before. Why did you need him to do it this time?

You were five seconds away from turning tail and running when the door slid open to reveal a shirtless and sleep deprived Poe Dameron. The slight shock on his face at seeing you was almost laughable. Except you then realized–you couldn’t laugh without doubling over in pain. The surprise quickly slipped from his face, being replaced by a sour look you would recognize anywhere.

“Hi,” you said softly, tucking your hands behind your back to hide the sight of your split open skin. That however didn’t stop his eyes from falling to your bleeding lip. “I know I have no right to ask this–”

“Who did that to you?”

The small tendrils of heat you’d been reaching for began to curl around your chest. Squeezing tightly until you had no choice but to acknowledge that they were there in the first place. Your rib still hurt like hell, yet hearing the slight worry in his voice counteracted that pain.

“Doesn’t matter,” you said quickly.

“That’s not what I asked,” he said–eyes hardening as they fell to the way you were leaning against the wall, placing more weight on your left side than your right.

You’d only ever seen him look this way during the heat of battle. When he was determined to come out victorious–the rage shining through the dark brown of his iris, nearly burning a hole through your chest. He was angry you were hurt. It was a surprise to come to that realization and yet it wasn’t an unwelcome one at that. Shifting your body, you tried to alleviate some of the pain that shot down to your leg–feeling like you might pass out from hypothermia the longer you stood there.

“Some guys in the cantina didn’t want to believe I was with the Resistance,” you huffed, shrugging your shoulders slightly. “They are worse off than I am. Trust me.”

“Where are they?”

A flutter tore through your heart. You’d never felt this way in his presence before. Some part of you knew that you were supposed to have these emotions when it came to Poe, but that was just it. The knowledge that this felt wrong–made it feel so right.

Maybe that’s where the hatred came from. The incessant understanding that this–whatever it was–should not happen. Poe was going to one day be a general and you would remain just the way you were. An engineer who knew their way around a blaster in the midst of battle, but nothing more. So, you shoved down the emotions you were feeling until they settled at the bottom of your stomach–turning your body bitter.

Poe Dameron, no matter how appealing he was to you in this moment, would only ever be the asshole who called you names like slip and rookie.

“Why come here?” he asked, still taking up space in his doorway–keeping you outside.

He wanted an answer and just like when you were asked why you hated him–you couldn’t come up with a good one. Why were you there? Why did you feel the need to come to him? For all you knew he would do a shitty job in patching you up, but that didn’t seem to matter. You knew the answer and you also knew…you didn’t want to say the answer.

“I–I didn’t know where else to go,” you replied, lying through your clenched teeth.

Waiting for him to laugh–tell you to go back to your, too small, cot was worse than the pain now spreading like a fire through your chest. Except he merely stepped to the side, giving you enough space to hobble inside–tears building up in your eyes at the small act of kindness. His hand landed on your arm, dragging it up until your knuckles were directly in his line of sight.

“It’s not that bad,” you blurted out, forcing yourself not to wince when he led you to the small stool placed near what you assumed to be a kitchen.

“Bullshit,” he muttered.

Just that one simple word brought a smile to your face, but you promptly wiped it away as he returned with a bacta kit and a wrap from your waist. You hadn’t even told him that you suspected your ribs were broken. He could simply tell by the way you were holding yourself. Once again that sickeningly sweet warmth shoved its way to the center of your chest, spreading up towards your neck.

He didn’t speak as he cleaned your knuckles. Simply kept his head ducked down–his curls falling against his forehead as he tried to pull out whatever glass might have been there. The alcohol in your veins was gone the second his hand touched yours. The feeling sobering you up quicker than you would have liked. Which meant you now had to sit and try not to stare at his still half bare form; or the way the muscles on his back tightened as he hunched over slightly to get a closer look.

“How many were there?” he asked, breaking the silence.

Again you winced, averting your eyes when he lifted his head. “Four.” The word was mumbled under your breath, and it wasn’t until you felt his hand tighten around your own, did your gaze snap back to his.

“What the fuck slip,” he breathed.

“Look they weren’t–”

“You could have gotten yourself killed,” he snapped.

Rearing back, you tried not to flinch from the pain in your side. “I was perfectly fine on my own.”

“Perfectly fine huh?” He stood when you nodded defiantly. “Then explain why you came to me bleeding.”

“I told you I had nowhere else to go,” you said.

He scoffed, shoving the opposite stool he was on closer to you, and sitting down. “Don’t lie to me.”

“Why?” Now it was his turn to back away. “Why shouldn’t I lie to you? If you haven’t noticed Dameron–we hate each other. I can’t remember a single time you were ever nice to me willingly so give me one good reason why I should even consider telling you the truth.”

“Because–”

“Because why?” you shouted, no longer in control of the emotions that unraveled your very being.

This was inevitable in the end. A fight between foes–when the meaning was far more than either of you could comprehend at a time like this. If you weren’t injured, you’d have tried to shove him away from you. Put as much distance between the both of you as possible, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his, let alone shift your body away far enough to clear your head.

“Because it’s us!” Dropping his head into his hands he rubbed at his eyes, oblivious to the way your mouth dropped open slightly. “It’s us. And yeah we fight, and we try to kill each other, but it’s us. I’d take a fucking bolt from a blaster for you.”

Your breath hitched, eyes watering at the sight of him tearing his own walls down for you. The same person he made everyone think he hated. You must have been stuck in a dream that found its fun in making something like this feel so real. It was twisted how much you longed for it to be real–how you wished you could break down your own walls just as he did.

“Poe–”

“If you don’t think that’s true then you obviously don’t know who pushed you out of the way in the last battle.”

You remember that day. A stormtrooper had gotten the upper hand, and while you were attempting to leap for an abandoned blaster on the floor, he had fired the shot. Someone shoved you of the way, effectively knocking your head against a rock and knocking you out. Except they had saved you from dying. Now–as you watched him run his hands through his hair to appease some of the stress building in his body, you realized how wrong you’d read every situation since then.

The walls holding in every built in emotion you had felt in the last year cracked. Severing your armor in two–allowing him to see a part of you that you closed off to everyone else.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you breathed, eyes still wide.

He shrugged. “Why didn’t you tell me you took down the TIE fighter that nearly blew me to pieces?”

Freezing in place, you watched his lips tug upwards in a small grin as the truth finally spilled free. You weren’t even supposed to be in an X-Wing, but then you heard the panicked transmission call. They were out-manned, outgunned, and on the verge of being wiped out. So you did the smart thing. You jumped in a ship and attempted to help–saving Dameron halfway through the battle from the very brink of death.

“How did you–”

He leaned closer, invading whatever personal space you had left. “Rose can’t keep a secret to save her life after four glasses of Jet juice.”

“You knew this whole time that I saved you?” Exhaling a shaky breath, you tried to stop your heart from leaping out of your chest. “You knew and you didn’t tell me?”

“I figured you hated me, but not enough to watch me die.”

“Poe Dameron you’re an asshole.” It was said through a weak laugh, the tears spilling down your cheek as you realized how stupid the both of you were.

He smiled, cupping your face and wiping them away with a soft brush of his thumbs. “Right back at you slip.”

Shifting, you managed to lean your forehead against his, eyes shutting for a moment of peace. “Hey, why do you call me that?”

His huff of laughter washed across your face–his thumbs still stroking your cheeks. “Cause you slipped through my fingers when we first met and have been ever since.”

If you didn’t feel the absolute ache in your chest before that moment, you did now. Somehow he’d taken every time you’d burned with anger towards him and flipped it–causing you to burn, ache, long for him the longer you sat there. He was the reason you were still alive; the true reason why you came here for help instead of anywhere else. You wanted to see him–to know that the loathing he felt was just a cover for something he couldn't quite yet describe.

“Poe,” you whispered, placing your hands on his shoulder in order to keep him from moving. “I–” The breath in your lungs stuttered as you tried to get out words that you never realized you felt until tonight.

They were stuck, lodged in your throat as you realized what it would mean for you to finally admit that this was real. You’d have to open up to him–show him all the ugly bits you did your best to ignore, because they were far from perfect. You were far from perfect. Except he didn’t seem to care.

“I know,” he said. “Me too.”

Gripping lightly on his hair you dragged him closer until his lips sealed over yours, effectively stopping your heart. You were nearly positive that he’d stolen every breath you had ever taken and would take in the course of your life, with this one single kiss. Which only made you press against him harder, lips moving in a more swift manner to forget the pain you both put each other through to get here. How stupid were you to think you could make an enemy out of a fated lover.

Licking against his bottom lip, you felt his hand slide from your cheeks down to your waist. Gentle enough to avoid the wounded areas, but firm in the decision he was making. He chose you. He’d always choose you.

The taste of him would leave you inebriated for days to come. Peppermint and something so purely him that you wouldn’t have been able to put into words even if you tried. Somehow that left you wanton, desperate for more. It stuck to your taste buds, shooting lust through your veins. Curling your fingers even further into his hair, you tentatively opened your mouth to him, shivering when he took the initiative to lick slowly–hotly–against your tongue.

You could stay there for hours just doing this. Tasting him for as long as time allotted you to do so. However, fate had a slight difference in opinion, because as you moaned into his mouth, he gripped your side–sending a jarring pain down to the very tips of your toes. Crying out, you yanked him back by his hair; an audible groan tearing from his throat.

“I’m sorry,” you said, letting go instantly. “I just–”

“Where does it hurt?” He bypassed your apology, choosing instead to run his hands lightly over your side until he caught you noticeably flinching.

“It’s–fuck–I swear it’s fine.”

He shook his head, biting back his smile as you attempted to play off the pain that nearly had you collapsing onto the floor. Picking up the bacta kit he began to put it together. Really it would take a few seconds and it would be over with, but the way he glanced at you for permission before lifting the side of your shirt, felt like the act took longer than that. Biting down on your split lip, you ignored the way your body tensed when his warm calloused hands touched your side.

“This might hurt,” he mumbled, still so close that you could feel his breath against your arm.

“I can take it.”

Seeing him attempt to swallow down his smirk had your thighs clenching together. While you certainly hadn’t meant for it to sound that way, you weren’t upset when his mind fell to that conclusion. If you weren’t stuck in one spot, you’d have asked him to do far more than simply kiss you. Which made the entire situation that much more aggravating.

You could only kiss him.

Tensing as the needle punctured your skin, you forced yourself to think of anything other than the situation you were in. You couldn’t look at him–not when he was leaning forward like this, his lips inches away from your arm. Not when you could feel your control wavering, on the verge of snapping in two. Fuck your injuries, you’d heal eventually, but knowing Poe he’d demand that before either of you two did anything–you’d have to heal first.

“Stop fidgeting,” he said, pressing down on your side to keep you from pulling away.

“Just hurry up.”

“I’d be able to if you sat still.”

Grumbling under your breath, you felt him pull away, the clink of the needle hitting the counter coming from behind you. “Is that it?”

“I’m going to have to bandage your waist until we can get you to the medic tomorrow.”

“The bacta won’t…heal my ribs?”

He chuckled, grabbing the bandages he had pulled out from the closet you all had in case of emergency. “No it won’t. Bones are a little more complicated.”

“Well fuck–” Wincing when you shifted back, you saw him pause a foot away from you. “What’s wrong? Not enough bandages?”

Poe stumbled over his words, his eyes dropping to your body before dragging back to your eyes. You felt the tug in your stomach at the sight of him openly admiring you, but you shoved it down. Too prideful to admit that you liked the look on his face and wanted to see it again and again.

“No–uh–I’m going to need you to–well–”

“Spit it out Dameron,” you said, a teasing smile spreading across your lips. “It can’t be that hard.”

The words had their intended effect. His eyes narrowed, hands gripping the bandages tighter as he stared at you without any embarrassment in his eyes. Something shifted in the air around you–nearly sparking a fire that slowly inched its way through your body.

“Take off your shirt.” His clipped tone caused your body to react in such a visceral way you nearly let an incoherent whine slip free.

“What?”

Stepping closer, he began to unravel the bandages. “Unless you want the bandages on top of the fabric.”

“No–I–” If you weren't being watched by him–stuttering underneath his gaze–you would have made a sly comment. No doubt causing yet another argument, but the look in his eyes quickened your pace.

It took you painfully shifting and him helping you–his hands dragging up your sides slow enough to have you shutting your eyes for some reprieve–for you to finally get the shirt off. You were better off simply sitting here rather than feeling him handle you as if you’d break any minute. It was maddening. Yet each time he wound his arms around you to keep the bandage straight, each brush of his hands along your bare skin, sent shivers down your spine.

“Almost done,” he said.

You opened your eyes, peeking at his face and felt your stomach bottom out. His jaw was clenched, eyes staring directly at his hands that didn’t stray from his task. What you thought was merely you overreacting at the loss of touch you’d experienced, was something else entirely. Poe had always been the man to keep perfect control over everything he worked on–a spitting image of the leader he was meant to be. At times you found it annoying, except you never realized how far his need for control went.

“Poe,” you murmured, breaking through his tightly locked mindset and allowing him a moment to pull away.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked.

Shaking your head, you ran your fingers through his curls, pushing them away from his forehead. You never understood the fascination with a man’s hair until this moment. Until he titled his head back–leaning into your touch–as his eyes fluttered shut. The look on his face nearly brought you down to your knees and even as he opened his eyes, you saw the brown nearly swallowed whole by his pupil. He wanted more.

You both did.

“Poe–”

He pulled away, returning to his spot on the stool and tying off the bandage. “You’re injured,” he said. In all honesty you weren’t sure if he was trying to convince you or himself. “I’m not going to be the reason you hurt even more.”

“You won’t hurt me.”

The words felt strange coming from you, knowing everything you went through to get to this point. It was ironic in a way. Except you couldn’t focus on the past–you didn’t want to. Knowing that the thoughts you had weren’t just fickle emotions, brought out new sensations you knew only he could make you feel. Poe Dameron was an addiction you didn’t want to kick. He was the poison in your veins and the antidote on your tongue.

Wincing, you leaned forward to bring his gaze back to you. “You can still kiss me…”

The worry on his face gave way to a smile you’d only seen directed at you a few times. Well–the times you’d actually been looking at him. You didn’t know it yet, but you were the cause of nearly all his smiles; the reason he found himself in a daze–lost in thoughts of you. Without hesitation, he captured your lips with his. The tang of him, already something you missed, once again filled your senses. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to drag him closer or pull away for air, but you decided on the former.

Gasping as one of his hands hesitantly brushed against your bare breast, you nearly fell into his lap. If you weren’t careful the both of you would end up on the floor and that would cause more harm than good. Poe knew that, which is why it only took him a few seconds to switch places with you. Shifting your body until your legs were over his thighs–the heat of his body now pressing firmly against yours.

“Fuck–” you breathed; practically shaking as your nipples brushed against his bare chest.

“My beautiful girl,” he mumbled against your cheek, his lips trailing down to your jaw–nipping lightly at the skin there. “Saved my life.”

The words you intended to say came out as a whine of his name instead when he pressed your hips down against his own. Effectively grinding his cock right against your clothed cunt. Sparks trailed up your spine, giving kindling to the fire that now streaked its way through your veins–causing you to press even closer to him.

Thankfully the bacta shot numbed the pain you were in, but you knew things wouldn’t get farther than this tonight. If there’s one thing you understood–Poe never backed out on his word. He’d kiss you until your head went fuzzy and your heart nearly gave out, but he wouldn’t press you into something that would cause your body pain. Somehow that only made you want him more. Until you were practically dragging yourself against his lap and sucking his tongue into your mouth.

He groaned, his hand grasping at your ass to still your movements. “We can’t–”

“Please,” you breathed; the beg was clear in your voice. “I’ll be good.”

“Fuck baby you’re going to kill me.”

Giggling, you scraped your teeth along his jaw. “You and I both know it takes a lot more than me begging for your cock to kill you.”

“Don’t be so sure about that,” he grunted, his hand reaching for the button of your pants.

The first touch of his fingers sliding through your slick nearly caused you to lose all sense of yourself. A heady moan ripped its way out of your throat as you tucked your face into his neck. Without meaning to, you began to grind against his fingers–positive that you wouldn’t last more than a few minutes from just him exploring. You were desperate for him; aching to feel him fill you entirely.

“Is this cause of me?” he asked, his eyes wide at the feeling of you practically dripping onto his palm.

You nodded, pressing your lips against his. “Yes. Now can you please–please touch me.”

Your heart nearly shattered when he shook his head, pulling his hand from you. This was the sensible thing to do. Wait until you are completely healed to move any further. Only you couldn’t stop the cry of desperation from leaving you. Steadying your breath, you began to shift away from him; certain that the both of you would simply head to bed now.

His hand grasping onto yours is what stopped you from moving.

“What–”

“Show me,” he breathed, dragging your bottom lip into his mouth and letting it go.

“Huh?” Your brain had turned to mush at the idea he was suggesting.

It wasn’t until he clasped your hand over his, having you guide him towards your cunt did you realize exactly what he wanted. Show me. He wanted to know what you wanted. How you liked to be touched; what exactly would get you there to the very edge of climaxing. His eyes were clouded with lust, mouth swollen and spit slicked as he watched the realization dawn on your face.

“Show me,” he urged a second time, biting down on his bottom lip when you finally took the initiative.

A ragged gasp left you when you pressed his fingers lightly to your clit, teaching him the pace that made your toes curl. Already you could feel your orgasm building, the tightening in your stomach growing with every swipe of his calloused fingers against you. Pushing his hand down further, you guided him, moaning when his fingers caught on your entrance. It wouldn’t take you long to hit that peak, his name already a pleaded out moan on your lips, but you needed more than what you could show him.

“I need–” You tilted your head back when he pressed the first finger into you.

“What do you need?” he asked, his other hand cupping the back of your neck to bring your lips back to his. “Tell me and I’ll give it to you.”

“I–” He slid another finger into you, smiling briefly as you choked on your words. “I need more. Oh fuck.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded, digging your nails into his shoulder. If you thought you were guiding him on how to give you an orgasm, you were sorely mistaken. Within seconds, you were a mess on his lap as he sped up the pace of his fingers, the heel of his palm grinding against your clit with every movement. Feeling his eyes on you as your mouth dropped open and your eyes fell shut was almost too much.

“Poe!” you cried out when he found the spot along your walls, rubbing his fingers over it with every thrust. “I’m gonna–ah fuck I’m gonna cum.”

“C’mon baby,” he murmured. “Cum on my fingers.”

You didn’t hear the rest of his words, because the coil in your body finally snapped. Shattering your very being in two as he pushed you even higher with his fingers. Above the sounds of your breathing was the audible echo of his fingers plunging in and out of your cunt. The wet squelch enough to have your orgasm prolonging to a point of near pain.

Sobbing out his name, your legs shook as he gradually slowed the pace of his hand until you were reaching down to stop it altogether. Sparks spread up and down your spine, rendering you immobile as you gasped for a full lungful of air.

“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, the disbelief clear in his voice.

Laughing softly, you pressed your lips against his. “I can’t feel my legs.”

“Good kind or…”

“Definitely the good kind.”

You watched as he sucked his fingers into his mouth, moaning at the taste of you. The sight of his eyes shutting in bliss made your clit throb and you nearly asked him to do it again. Instead, you opted for kissing him–tasting yourself on his tongue–while you waited for the feeling in your legs to return.

Which they did a few minutes later.

“Oh shit,” you muttered, glancing at the digital clock he had attached to the wall.

“What’s wrong?” Sighing, you attempted to get up from his lap only to have him stop you. “What happened?”

“I forgot my jacket at the cantina,” you said.

“You can wear mine.”

The ease in which he said those words reminded you of your feelings. You would choose him again and again, no matter the consequences in the end.

“I’d love to,” you replied, wincing as you stood up. “But it was my dad’s jacket. I can’t lose it.”

Poe got to his feet–his hands settling on your hips to keep you steady. “Wasn’t he a pilot?”

“In the Rebellion. Yeah. I didn’t know you knew that.”

“I always paid attention when you thought I didn’t.”

Smiling, you felt heat begin to creep up the back of your neck, warming your face. “Thanks…for paying attention.”

“Don’t thank me yet slip,” he said, leading you through a few stumbling steps till your legs hit the edge of his bed. “I’ve still got to make you see the Maker once you’re fully healed.”

He laughed when you smacked him on the arm, your body finding the thought incredibly appealing. There was something dangerous about being this in tune with someone you thought you hated once. You weren’t sure it was a good thing or a bad thing yet, but you knew he’d help you find out eventually. So, rather than fight against the feelings that begged to be bricked up and hidden, you gave into something greater.

It took three more sexual jokes, a kiss or two, but soon you were lying together in the bed, his chest pressed against yours. You tucked your head into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent as you drifted off. Happy for once in a very long time.

Feeling the uncomfortable ache return to your side woke you up from your relaxing sleep–causing irritation to rise in your body. Poe slept soundly beside you, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist and head pressed into your neck. Which is why you tried to stay as still as possible. Except you could feel the burn start to come back with full force.

You had to see a medic today. The sooner the better.

Shifting slowly, you managed to turn to your other side–relieving some of the pain. Only to freeze as you caught sight of the brown leather pilot’s jacket hanging off the back of a chair. Blinking, you cleared the sleep from your eyes to make sure you were seeing what you actually thought you were seeing. The same jacket you’d left behind–the very last piece of your father you had–was directly in front of you.

Your breath caught in your throat–the tears welling up in your eyes. Poe had ventured out into the pouring rain in the late hours of the night, all to retrieve your jacket. He knew how important it was to you; understood the significance of the garment you wore proudly each and every day.

Blinking back the tears you felt the last of your walls crumble into pieces around you. Finally exposing your heart to the world that had turned it cold in the first place. Only now, as you felt Poe stir behind you–your eyes still stuck on your jacket–did you know that your heart was eternally protected. Just as he saved your life and healed your wounds, he’d do the same for your heart.

For as long as time allowed.

[neptunesfullbuster]

Hiya! I found one of your 'fake dating' post someone asked for and really loved it! Can I ask for the same fake dating trope but with sting? Gn reader, and if it's ok, reader comes from another guild far away, but they ended up taking the same quest and bumped into each other and had to work together (ie fake date) if it's to much work to make that all work don't worry! Also, can you make it really fluffy? I've been reading to much angst 😭 ~poe

- stormy weather isn’t always so bad

summary ; you end up going on a job with Sting Eucliffe and nothing goes according to plan..

authors note ; IM SO SORRY ERIEFIBBWIRJWS- yes this is late. yes this is nothing like what you requested. I tried so hard trying to fit the fake dating trope in I just couldn’t find a way to make it all work. My requests are closed but if you wanna send something involving fake dating or whatever again I will totally allow it to make up for it!

pairing ; sting eucliffe x gn!reader.

other characters ; none.

magic type: not specified.

warnings / genre ; few curse words. neutral, crack + fluff if you squint. 

You two were lost- whether you wanted to admit it or not. You had no idea which direction was which, and a large storm was coming in. To top it all off, you were stuck with a certain blonde dragon slayer, and he was no help at all. 

“Sting!” Currently, the said dragon slayer kept wandering off out of boredom when you two agreed on searching for some shelter before the rain clouds rolled in. 

“The fuck are you doing?” Sting sighed and walked over to you. 

“Having no clue which ways north and which ways south doesn’t mean we still don’t have a job to do.” 

Oh right- the job. You and Sting actually ended up taking the exact same job and decided to team up and split the reward. It was your usual- group of bandits causing chaos and terrorizing towns, and you two had to take them down. 

“Do you know where we are? Mr. Enhanced senses.” You asked, starting started to get frustrated with the situation. 

“No idea.”

Great. 

You looked at the sky- the dark grey clouds were now above you both, and it was going to pour on you two any minute. 

“We should get going,” Sting asked, following your eyes. 

“Yep.” 

Cue to you both now sprinting through the pouring rain and thunder, seeking any sort of shelter. 

Sting had his hand wrapped around your arm, also dragging you at how fast he was, “Sting, slow down, I can’t keep up!” you shouted, but he ignored you and stayed at the same speed. 

“Sting!” 

“Sting!”

“Sting, I asked you to fucking slow down!” You stopped running cause you to fall on your ass. 

“We gotta get outta here!” He shouted, pulling you up. Sting started to drag you again, but you ripped his hand off your arm.

“You don’t need to drag me!” 

“Fine, I’ll carry you!” 

“No!” You walked past him, but he grabbed you by your arm, pulling you closer to him. Pausing for a moment- it felt like the rain slowly went away. The distance between you both was almost non-existent, feeling his breath lightly against your cheeks. Bringing yourself back to reality, you pushed him away and started to walk. 

“Let’s go, and I can run on my own this time.” 

The two of you again sprinted for shelter- quickly shaking off that moment. Sting was faster than you, but you managed you stick behind him. 

“Hey, over there!” Sting shouted, spotting a cave up ahead. Unfortunately, the storm was only getting worse, so you both ran as fast as you could to hide underneath the rocks. 

“I don’t think I have ever run that much,” you say, completely out of breath. Sting pushed his wet blonde locks out of his face and nodded in agreement. 

“We gotta make a fire.” 

“How? Everything is wet.”

 The two of you looked around the cave. After a few minutes, you noticed a few dry pieces of wood hidden in the back.

“Sting, there is some wood back here!” You called out grabbed larger pieces out to build the fire pit. 

You began to build a teepee shape with the pieces of wood while Sting grabbed the rest of the materials necessary.

“You know how to build a fire?” He asked. 

“Yeah, grab two rocks with sharp edges.” You asked, ripping off small pieces of bark and placing them underneath. 

Sting followed your instructions, giving you two rocks with sharp edges. You began to quickly rub them together in order to create a spark so the pieces of bark would catch fire. Eventually, the pieces of bark caught, and heat slowly arose from the wood. 

Sitting next to the fire, you let out a sigh of relief as your body started to heat up again. 

“Sting.” You mumbled, a wave of tiredness began to hit you like a truck.

“Yes?”

“Remind me to never go on a job with you again.”

“Wh-” Sting was about to argue, but suddenly he felt your body sink into his as you fell asleep. Sting sighed and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, letting your weight fall onto him even more. 

The blonde placed a kiss on the top of your head and laid his on yours. “Can’t believe you’re sleeping on the job Y/n.” He mumbled, joining you in your peaceful sleep. 

After you, two woke up and the storm finally passed, revealing a beautiful blue sky, your job was completely forgotten about…

[derangedrhythms]

Do you have any quotes regarding unattractiveness, undesirablilty and loneliness?

'Alone' by Edgar Allan Poe

"my lonely life around me like a moor,"

— Anne Carson, from 'The Glass Essay'

‘Hateful day when I received life!’ I exclaimed in agony. ‘Accursed creator! Why did you form a monster so hideous that even you turned from me in disgust? God, in pity, made man beautiful and alluring, after his own image; but my form is a filthy type of yours, more horrid even from the very resemblance. Satan had his companions, fellow-devils, to admire and encourage him; but I am solitary and abhorred.’

"I saw no cause for their unhappiness; but I was deeply affected by it. If such lovely creatures were miserable, it was less strange that I, an imperfect and solitary being, should be wretched."

— Mary Shelley, from 'Frankenstein'

"—it is a little thing to say how lone it is—anyone can do it, but to wear the loneness next to your heart for weeks, when you sleep, and when you wake, ever missing something, this, all cannot say, and it baffles me."

— Emily Dickinson, from 'Selected Letters'; to Susan Gilbert (Dickinson)

"this skin is sick with loneliness."

— Lucille Clifton, Splendor; from 'leda 3'

"... I let the awful clothes affect even my posture, walked around with my back bowed, my shoulders drooping, my hands and arms at awkward angles, was afraid of mirrors because they showed in me an ugliness which in my opinion was inevitable..."

— Franz Kafka, from 'The Diaries: 1910-1923', tr. Joseph Kresh & Martin Greenberg

"There is a loneliness that can be rocked. Arms crossed, knees drawn up; holding, holding on, this motion, unlike a ship's, smooths and contains the rocker. It's an inside kind—wrapped tight like skin. Then there is a loneliness that roams. No rocking can hold it down. It is alive, on its own. A dry and spreading thing that makes the sound of one's own feet going seem to come from a far-off place."

— Toni Morrison, from 'Beloved'

"He is so lonely that he sometimes feels it physically, a sodden clump of dirty laundry pressing against his chest. He cannot unlearn the feeling."

"Until that point, he had never thought too specifically about his appearance. He knew he was ugly. He knew he was ruined. He knew he was diseased. But he had never considered himself grotesque. But now he was. There seemed to be an inevitability to this, to his life: that every year he would become worse—more disgusting, more depraved. Every year, his right to humanness diminished; every year, he became less and less of a person. But he didn’t care any longer; he couldn’t allow himself to.

"I worry sometimes that you’ve decided to convince yourself that you’re somehow unattractive or unlovable, and that you’ve decided that certain experiences are off-limits for you. But they’re not..."

— Hanya Yanagihara, from 'A Little Life'

"I often stood in front of the mirror alone, wondering how ugly a person could get."

— Charles Bukowski, from 'Ham on Rye'

"My shadow said to me: / What is the matter / Isn't the moon warm / enough for you / Why do you need / the blanket of another body [...] Aren't there enough words / flowing in your veins / to keep you going"

— Margaret Atwood, The Animals in That Country; from 'The Shadow Voice'

"It is the reflection of my face. Often in these lost days I study it. I can understand nothing of this face. The faces of others have some sense, some direction. Not mine. I cannot even decide whether it is handsome or ugly. I think it is ugly because I have been told so. But it doesn't strike me. At heart, I am even shocked that anyone can attribute qualities of this kind to it, as if you called a clod of earth or a block of stone beautiful or ugly."

— Jean-Paul Sartre, from 'Nausea', tr. Richard Howard

"On the couch, the cat crawls on top of me / and loves me so hard, his claws draw blood. / I am so lonely, I do nothing to stop it."

— Cristin O'Keefe Aptowicz, from 'Things That Happened During Petsitting That I Remind Myself Are Not Metaphors for My Heart'

"How can you love me? Look, my gums are diseased. Every tooth in my mouth is false. All the hair has been burnt off my head. My eyes are as red as a syphilitic's. My face is nothing but jagged bone. I am ugly. The ugliest of men! My nerves are shattered, my body gone sterile, my insides poisoned from tip to toe. How can you love such a wreck of a man?” […] “You are not ugly, Vincent. You are beautiful. You have tormented and tortured this poor body in which your soul is wrapped, but you cannot injure your soul. It is that I love. And when you have destroyed yourself by your passionate labours, that soul will go on... endlessly. And with it, my love for you.”

— Irving Stone, from 'Lust for Life'

"...beauty is the simple thing, ugliness is the extraordinary thing, and all ardent imaginations doubtless prefer the extraordinary thing in lubricity to the simple thing. Beauty, freshness only strike one in a simple way; ugliness, degradation deliver a much firmer blow - the shock is far stronger, the excitation must therefore be more intense."

— The Marquis de Sade, from 'The 120 Days of Sodom or The School of Libertinage', tr. Will McMorran & Thomas Wynn

[supremewolfren]

The Devil's Gift ~ Part 10

Summary: Poe Dameron is the honorary Prince of Hell - the leading choice for King of Hell. The only issue is the fact that he’s single. This is where you, his succubus’ best friend, come in. 

Pairing: Poe Dameron X Reader

Warnings: None really, just a fluffy love filled chapter.

Word Count: 1560

Series Masterlist || Previous Part || Next Part

The months since your return home had flown by, faster than you expected. Tomorrow you were getting married, married to your best friend. It was a surreal feeling and thought honestly. When he offered initially it was intended for convenience, both single, both needed things out of a marriage that you wouldn’t get from just anybody, and most of all why not be with your best friend. Speaking of surreal feelings, waking up to someone in your bed unexpectedly? Terrifying. 

“Poe Dameron!” you squealed out, shoving his heavy body off of you from where he dropped down without a care in the world, “it’s barely” you tilted your head towards your nightstand where your alarm clock waited, bleary you could make out the 5 and 3 on it, “5:30 am!” 

He laughed before rolling to his side to face you, “they’re kidnappin you away from me today, figured I’d sneak in early and see you before Rey, Leia, and Rose steal you away.” His voice was soft, as he lifted his head to tuck one hand under it and the other came to rest against your hip. “You can go back to sleep love, it’s early.”

You hummed in response before moving to meld yourself into him, causing him to fall fully onto his back as you moved. Your head rested on his chest, with a leg thrown over him, “in their defense they had wanted to kidnap me for the entire week, so you’re lucky they hadn’t grabbed me last night,” you mused, pressing a gentle kiss to his chest before fully resting your head against him.

“How are you feeling?” he spoke softly, trailing a hand up and down your arm, as his other was secured around you. He’d asked you that every day since your return. At first, you were terrified and skittish of everyone, even your closest friends. You’d wake up at night and think you were still there, there were a couple of times you attacked Poe before your brain caught onto reality. Luckily you never actually hurt him, but still not a great way to wake up and definitely not a great feeling when you fly out of a bed into a wall but he didn’t care. He was more worried about you and even in your sleep-induced fear haze, you recognized that after he slammed into a wall. 

Allowing your fingers to trace patterns on his chest, you didn’t respond. You didn’t have to, he knew you were still a little skittish and knew you were still tense with Kylo around. Kylo wasn’t at the forefront of your brain but a small part of you felt for him and felt bad for him. He was misguided and whether anyone agreed with you or not, you couldn’t help but feel bad. To Kylo, you were his best friend for so long, admittedly it was never the same for you. You had always had Poe, Poe was always at your forefront, he was always your priority. You still felt terrible for him but there was nothing you could do about the situation. He made his choice and now he was facing the consequences of them. Your fingers paused as you thought, causing Poe’s own hand to pause, with a soft babe? 

“I’m excited,” you spoke, bringing your mind away from the darkness that was overwhelming for you, “I mean, I get to marry my best friend and spend every day with you. The only thing that changes for me is you’re my husband and I think that’s pretty snazzy if I do say so.”

Poe couldn’t stop the laugh that tumbled from his lips at your word choice. Tugging you closer, and wrapping his arms tightly around you he hummed. Before softly telling you to get some rest because the ladies were going to wake you up within a few hours. Hearing your hum in agreement, he loosened his arms slightly so he wasn’t physically restraining you to him. You had fallen asleep against him rather quickly, you always did. Poe sat there in the dark, lightly running a hand over your side, enough to feel but not enough pressure to wake you. He thought about how completely different both of your lives were. When he proposed originally, he had no intention of realizing how absolutely head over heels in love with you he was nor did he realize it would lead to you being taken from him almost permanently. 

Pausing his movement, he listened to your light whimper before you subconsciously moved closer to him, practically climbing into his lap. He felt the soft smile on his face grow, he was elated that things turned out okay and that everything worked out for the better. That didn’t change his hatred to how things occurred and how hurt you were. When you panicked out of his arms, he felt his heart break, but he stayed strong for you. Ultimately everything happens for a reason, he believed that but he hated that it meant pain for you.

Closing his own eyes, Poe let out a soft sigh, barely noticeable before falling asleep holding you tight.

---

Feeling hands on you that certainly didn’t belong to Poe caused you to launch yourself backward trying to find security in Poe who - admittedly - had already left for the day. Rey caught you as you flung yourself off the bed with a laugh, “hell girl you’re gonna get yourself killed launching like that.” 

You laughed in response as she helped steady you on your feet, “yeah well, I’m still struggling with some things,” you gave her a soft smile, “people bein one of em. I’m not used to people touching me and not intending harm.”

She gave you a weak smile in return before Leia’s hands tugged you and Rey from the corner, “come on it’s a pampering event before tomorrow. Let us take care of you.” Her voice was soft, alerting you to the peaceful day they had planned, “Poe already helped with part a.” You looked at her with an eyebrow raised before Beebs barked and lunged for you, “he agreed to let you have Bee for the day and night technically.” You had already dropped to the ground to wrap your arms around the rambunctious hellhound. You were cooing and babying him, vaguely you could hear Rose make a comment about what you’d be like when you and Poe eventually had babies of your own. A light smack hit Rose and she looked at Rey annoyed, but Rey simply laughed in response.

Tugging you out of the room they quickly set a path to leave the castle - essentially it really was a castle even if you all worked in offices and only the select few handpicked by Leia slept there as well. Poe, yourself, Rey, Finn, Rose, Leia, and Han - and Chewie let’s be real - all had their own rooms. Han and Chewie rarely if ever slept there usually they were out being the scavengers they were at heart. Marrying a princess - and technically being King of Hell - had never mattered to Han, everyone knew that. It was weird to think about the fact that you were going to be giving up your room and moving in with Poe even if you spent most of your time in his room anyway. You wouldn’t have the sanctuary that was built just for you. 

You tried to ask where you were going a few times but the girls just keep shushing you. You didn’t need to know the details, just that it would be a fun day, a day tailored to you. Stopping suddenly, Leia grinned before letting her wings spread, the white was a gloriously pure color and always made you smile. The Queen of Hell with white wings? Shocking but gorgeous nonetheless. Grinning, you allowed your own to stretch, you hadn’t just flown since you got home, but it was about time. Rey’s grey wings brushed yours as she extended, with a wicked grin that told you she was about to issue a race. Rose’s wings were a light pink, which was an interesting color for the girl, but they also fit her gorgeously. Taking a running jump off the balcony that Leia led you to, you whooped as all three girls followed suit. While you never understood Poe’s incessant need for flying and why he flew the way he did, you couldn’t deny the freedom that came with it. Tucking your wings into a quick dive, you cheered as you brought yourself back up. 

Leia caught up to you then and wrapped her arms around you, “welcome to the family dear,” her voice was firm with the softness you associate with a mother who is overfilled with love. “Tomorrow will make it official, but you’ve always been a member of our family.” Tears flooded your vision as you kept both of you in the air with your arms tightly wrapped around her. Only allowing yourself a soft hum of agreement - anything more and you would have burst out crying. 

Letting go of the hug, she grabbed your hand and tugged you in the direction of her next surprise, based on the tone she had when she and the girls woke you up, she planned out a spa day and you couldn’t even be upset about it.

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