#besides y'know: Scion!Poe ;)c

[regrettablewritings]

Rq. Heimdall fanfic!!!!😍 There is not enough out there man. How about Cassian andor? Or Poe, your choice.😘 Sorry your reunion sucked so hard.

Yeah, Heimdall!!! I haven’t really seen any real fics about him despite the fact that he totally deserves them so I took it upon myself to try and contribute.And hey. Hey, bud. Why not both? (First up in Poe, tho)

How differently do they think of eachother now compared to when they first met?: Poe Dameron was notoriousthroughout the Resistance as being a hotshot both in terms of piloting and interms of his overall personhood. So of course, once you had the chance to meethim by way of being assigned his X-Wing to fix, you had been expecting somearrogant piece of fool who’s mansplain to you how the mechanicals worked and soon. Boy, were you not expecting a warm, humorous young man who didn’t try tospoon-feed you terms you already knew, but instead was perfectly willing toleave you to your own literal devices and even praise your handiwork! Because that was one of the first things Poe thought of when he met you: Thatyou were a skilled member and the Resistance was therefore honored to havesomebody like you.

It was inevitable that the two of you would cross paths more after that(especially considering that after impressing him with your workmanship, Poerequested that you be the one to work on his assigned aircrafts). Because ofthese frequent meetings, frequent conversation was held. Until eventually, youboth began to see one another without the need to work on an X-Wing or whathave you. And you started seeing one another out of your working uniforms, freeof sweat and grease. And conversations drifted away from exchanging ideas abouthow to make the ships run smoother, or what tools you needed; they started toorient more about your respective lives, which resulted in talking about yourexperiences, likes, dislikes, and so forth.Inevitably, your impressions of one another grew into something more vivid.You now knew Poe as quite possibly the kindest, most amazing man you’d evermet: He was skilled and quite humble even with his own acknowledgement of histalent for flying. He exuded warmth, and was loyal to a fault, if potentiallyfoolhardy in his determination. Plus, once you learned the origins of the ringhe wore around his neck, you were thrilled to learn that he was a romantic atheart!Poe now knew that the Resistance wasn’t lucky to have you – he was: You were like a grease-covereddiamond in the ruff who trusted her instincts and knowledge. You volunteeredyour own talents for a greater good and while Poe himself was one of many whodid the same, he still admired this fact because not just anyone would pick uptheir things, leave everything they’d ever known, and fight for a betterfuture. He loves it when people aredriven but most of all, he loves it when you’redriven.

What do their friends/family think oftheir relationship?: Poe would like to think that his parents would’veloved you. Specifically his mother, who would have more likely than not bothstarted and indulged in a geek-out fest over the types of things she’s flownand your hunger for the knowledge that surrounded their infrastructure. Theclosest person left that he has to a mother, however, is Leia. And while she’snot as prone to excitement over ship mechanics and the like, she still verymuch approves of the relationship (even going so far as to “threaten” Poe intobeing a gentleman – as if he could be anything but). If she catches the two ofyou embracing or kissing before he flies out on a mission, she’ll snark aboutthe two of you “being absolutely disgusting” in public with your affection.But most of all, the approval you’ll be wanting is from BB-8. And, to yourabsolute glee, they approve of you. They like how happy Poe seems to be aroundyou, and it helps that you earned their good graces by thinking they’re evencuter than Poe. Finn doesn’t see anything wrong with the two of you: You’re nice, you’re brave,and he thinks the two of you go great together. And as for Rey, you both bondover your shared and varying knowledges on knowing how to fix up transports bigand small. (Plus, she’s very flattered when you ask if she’ll teach you anyshortcuts you might not have learned due to your more formal yet restrictedtraining.)Your own friends are impressed and also a little jealous that you managed toland one of the most well-known figures in the Resistance – this man is thereason so many people joined, after all, in no small part due to his handsomeface being spread everywhere in advertisements. Some might even ask if youcould introduce them to him, stating that you can’t hog the Resistance’sgreatest pilot to yourself. You humor them, but by the end of the meeting,they’re always surprised to learn just how laidback he actually is. Good foryou!

How do their personalities/skillscomplement or contrast with each other?: Typically speaking, Poe just hasthis energy that brings out the best in people. His sweetness is just thatcontagious. And you were one of his many willing victims, becoming more open toaccompany his own honey-like character. Skills-wise, what else? His knowledge and experience with flying matchesperfectly with your own knowledge and experiences with working on aircrafts.

What is their favorite aspect of eachother?: Golly, how could you only choose one thing about him that you loved the most? You couldn’t choose betweenhis loyalty, his kindness, his generosity, his willingness to sacrifice, hisdrive – You just love his overall Poe-ness!Nearly the same goes for Poe: There’s just too much about you he adores. Butsomething that especially sticks out to him is how even if you consideryourself just another number in the grand scheme of the Resistance, your skillscontribute far beyond what you may initially see from the hangars. You are, ashe would put it, a spark that ignites a flame that keeps the Resistance going.(“You took that from somewhere, didn’t you?” “Even if I did, that doesn’tchange the truth!”)

Do either of them have pet peevesabout each other?: For the most part, Poe is pretty controlled andthoughtful. He can usually find the time to make a humored remark even in theface of a First Order commander or his own torturer. But even the brightestpeople can snap if under a certain amount of pressure: If Poe feels desperate,there’s a rare but still possible chance that he might be so ambitious that hemay act without thinking of the little details in the big picture. Sometimesit’s dangerous, but other times it’s just irritating to you.

How would each reconcile with eachother after a fight?: Couples’ tiffs are inevitable. But an actual argumentwith Poe is pretty uncommon. But that doesn’t make them unheard of. Poe isgenerally a very pleasant person but sometimes, that hotheaded stubbornnessthat you sometimes forget he has seeps through and drives him to storm off. Hemay blow steam by flying or aggressively cleaning his X-Wing or exercising,all while venting to BB-8. Eventually, whether it’s because Leia or BB-8 saidsomething, or because he ran out of fumes to run on, Poe will recognize thatreconciliation is necessary. No matter how passionately he may have felt aboutwhatever set the two of you off, his hatred of when the two of you fight iseven stronger. He admits that it’s a bit arrogant of him to feel this way, buthe’s just so used to generally getting along with everybody that even yoursmaller arguments have the potential to throw him off. After all, was he reallythat great of a person if he couldn’t even make his beloved happy?He tries not to fly off-planet after an argument because the last time he did,he nearly died and it really put into perspective just how silly and immatureit was for him to leave on such a note. As soon as he returned to base, he wassearching for you as a hungry man searches for food: vehemently anddesperately. The moment he found you, you didn’t have time to even react to hisreappearance before you found yourself pressed so firmly against his chest in abone-crushing hug that you could just barely breathe. And even once the hug slackened (only by a smidge), you couldn’t get a word inedge-wise because the pilot was blurting out apology after apology,self-deprecating himself and calling himself wrong for doing that to you andpromising how he could make it up to you even if it took the rest of his life.It took you patting his chest to cue him to shut up for you to verbally accepthis apology (“I messed up, too, you nerf-herder”) and return the hug.Even years down the line, he holds up to that principle. It can be weeks afteran argument and you’ve long-since moved passed it but when he comes back from amission, he’s brought something from another planet for you (you now have acollection going for you that you keep tucked away in a safety box so as toavoid damage). You wish you could do the same but since you never really havethe chance to fly elsewhere and acquire gifts for him. So you try and becreative and make little things for him out of what you have on D’Qar: You tryto find leftover pieces from ships that can no longer serve their initialpurpose and fashion them into little decorations

What would be their ideal vacationgetaway together?: It’s really hard to think about vacations when one is involvedin a resistance movement. Especially when one is also a pilot who constantlyflies to new locations nearly on the daily. Poe tries not to tarnish thebeautiful landscapes he comes upon with associations as to why he’s there (toretrieve info, a person, sabotage, etc). Instead, he tries to remember the morebeautiful or unique aspects of the places he visits. This is not only to givehim a peace of mind and to give him one more thing to fight for the future for,but also to bring back to you. As stated before, you never really get to travel off-planet due to yourground-bound job, so you’re always curious as to what other places may looklike. Poe is all too happy to tell you about the places he’s been, the thingshe saw and ate there, the many different cultures. He loves how you practicallyglow with intrigue as he recounts the rituals he’s witnessed and what theyapparently mean for the locals. He knows that wars take time to end, and thisone is no exception. But a very giddy (and admittedly childish) part of himreally hopes that the tide turns in favor of the Resistance and that all thisfighting would be done all ready with no more planetary destruction. He wantsto start living an easier life with you, to actually start living life withyou. He’s already taken mental notes of the planets you responded to the mostand can’t wait to take you there and watch you glow as you see their respectivebeauties in person.

Think of a new way (AU, differentsituation, etc.) they could have met for the first time: You were an idiot.You were an idiot who bought into the beauty of eating in the courtyard of thisSan Franciscan café and now, for deciding to eat outside, you were going to diein this absurd heat. You sighed even though you immediately regretted feelingthe subsequent warmth of your breath running over your skin. It was too late totake it all back, though: Judging by the constant glances you made at thewindows of the actual establishment, Café Madrinna’s insides were now filled tocapacity for the lunch rush. You tried not to whimper, gripping your ice-coldglass of water with the hopes of relief.Your friend, much to your envy and despair, appeared to be unaffected by theWest Coast heat as she continued to chatter about the divine nature of the miniaturequiches this place served.“ – and the spinach-cheese ones? To die for,(Y/N),” she went on, gesturing just as dramatically as her claim. You noddedhalf-heartedly, only partially paying attention. The other part was trying tofocus on not passing out in public.If you couldn’t be in the A/C-cooled building, then the only other thing youwanted more was for a waiter to come by so you could request another cold drink,order your food, and get out of here as soon as possible.Your voice’s voice carried on with the one-sided conversation, quickly blurringinto little more than white noise. In fact, everything was beginning to fadefrom your stance due to you swearing that you were melting. It was therefore abit of a wonder to you that one noise didmake it through your disappearing interest. Though, not by much. After all, it’shard to ignore the sound of a microphone screeching.You flinched, faintly hearing others “ooh” and hiss as they cringed.“Sorry! Sorry … Testing, testing. 1, 2, 1, 2,” a voice magnified by the micsaid. You wanted to start whimpering but lacked the energy; the last thing youwanted was for yet another source of stimuli to overwhelm you. Plus, if somebodystarted to play music, it would require even more energy for you to speak up tothe waiter. Where the hell they were. You were so filled with spite that youmustered just enough strength to turn your head. It lulled lazily on your neckand, had you thought about it, ultimately dampened whatever effect your annoyedglare could’ve provided.Not that it mattered: It didn’t last very long anyway. It couldn’t possibly holdits own once you saw exactly whom you were intended to direct your ire.He was cute, but not in a little boy sort of way. You couldn’t quite place it,but you supposed it had something to do with the lax demeanor he carried abouthimself. … But he also had a guitar with him as he sat on a stool before the mic.The frown threatened to make its way back onto your face. California Guy +Guitar = Memories of Asshole in the Quad at College Trying to Pick Up Chicks. Grabbing the mic, he greeted, “Afternoon, ladies and gents and other heavenlybodies,” he greeted.” He offered a smile, revealing his crooked butnevertheless adorable teeth (how could teeth be adorable, you had no idea).“Anyway,” he said, getting into position, “here’s ‘Wonderwall.’”Oh, God, no!“Nah, I’m just kidding.” A handful of people chuckled. You nearly sighed withrelief.“But seriously … Here goes something.”The sound of the strings being plucked proved to be anything but the nuisanceyou had expected them to be. In fact, the chords seemed to flow through the airlike silk, curling in waves before caressing your ears. But it couldn’t compareto the smooth, almost husky voice with which the musician sang.“That certain night, the night we met,There was magic abroad in the air.There were angels dining at the RitzAnd a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square.”Perhaps it was a heat-induced delirium, but part of you suspected the man’svoice of being supernatural: You no longer focused on the heat; in fact, youcould barely determine if you were actually hot anymore. “I may be right and I may be wrong,But I’m perfectly willing to swearThat when you turned and smiled at me,A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square.”The way with which he delivered the lyrics seemed to serve as almost a portal,offering you an oasis to recuperate from. A balmy evening scene painted itselfin your head, the man’s voice serving as both paintbrush and palette. You barely responded to your waiter as they finally came by your table (now ofall times) to retrieve your orders. You dared yourself to not look away as youmarveled how the man’s eyelashes fluttered with his perpetual bedroom eyes. Bedroom eyes that … were looking right at you. Sure enough, you could see the those dark eyes of his staring specifically atyou. A stare so unbroken that you could see the warmth in those optics and bereminded of a cozy little nook where one could be gathered into a quilt and sleepin its cloth embrace.It was perhaps this observation that revived the heat in you. Only, instead ofit being a painful, bodily heat beaten onto your skin by the sun, this heatseemed to stay specifically in your face and ears.Crud. It only worsened when the man,still staring at you, flashed you another crooked-toothed smile. Double crud!“The moon that lingered over London town –Poor puzzled moon, he wore a frown …” With far too much ease, he liftedhimself from his seat. He started walking slowly away from the designated performancespot, never once missing a beat. “How could he know we two were so inlove?The whole darn world seemed … upside down!” His voice continued, appearingto be unaffected by the lack of microphone as his singing still rang throughoutthe dining area. That would have impressed you, had it not been for yourheartbeat muting out almost everything. He was coming closer! To you! You could feel yourself panicking inside, eyes skittering about you in afruitless attempt to locate an escape route. You glanced back up. He was tenfeet away. Six feet. Four feet. Three. Two.“The streets of town were paved withstarsIt was such a romantic affair.And as we kissed and said goodnight,A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square.”Oh, God. He was here. In front of you. On one knee, still playing along, voicestill carried through that cute smile of his. His stare was still on you.Everybody’s stare was on you. Your friend gushed in her seat, fists balled intoher cheats as she quietly geeked out at what was happening to you. You, on theother hand, were two-parts mortified, two-parts twelve seconds away from goingyour own gushing.Certainly, it was not good for your hatred of being the center of attention ina public space for you to be serenaded. But on the flip-side, you were being serenaded! This was the sort of stuff you’d onlyever seen in movies or Youtube videos. This wasn’t the sort of stuff thathappened to people like you! Or at least, that was what you’d thought before. Butthis man was proving otherwise as his fingers practically waltzed along thestrings of his guitar, treating you to a wordless solo that brought a piece ofyour mind back to the night scene. It now included him in there, with thosewarm eyes and kissable smile. Holding hands, walking along the streets – that that gooey romantic stuff youtried your best not to get too caught up in. But, oh, he made it look and soundso wonderful!In fact, it was that same wonderful voice that gently pulled you back toreality on a high note – literally.“Aaaaand like an echo far away,A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square,” he crooned. Before he got up, heoffered you quite possibly the smoothest wink you’d ever bore witness to. Hisfingers were still strumming as he slowly returned to his original placement. By the time you’d remembered to clap, the audience had already been holdingapplause for ten seconds. He took a small bow, glowing grin in place. He leanedinto the microphone once more:“Thank you so much! Wow, uh … Okay, I’ll be taking a ten-minute break so .. . I guess hang tight!”His eyes didn’t return to you as he turned around and exited the outside. Asmuch as you felt a little disappointed by this fact, you couldn’t blame him.++++++“What’s the matter? You haven’t eaten much …” Your friend nodded at yourplate. You shook your head, “Nothing, it’s just – I’m pacing myself.” You directed abite-sized piece in a circle with your fork. Your companion pursed her lips indoubt.“I’m calling bull on that,” she muttered, taking a bite of the quiche she’dbeen going on about all day. “I think I know the reason.” The delivery of thatsentence threatened a chill to go down your spine; you knew what was coming. And sure enough, as you looked up, you weremet with a taunting smirk.“Tummy in a tizzy? ‘Cause that cutie sang to you? Be still, your beating heart!”You attempted to glare through your blushing, aching face. “Quiet, you!” you hissed. You really didn’t want to hear this: Both because ofembarrassment, but also because you just wanted to forget about that guyalready. You wanted to scarf down your food, pack up, and leave this barbaricheat and never come back! … If only you could actually will yourself to eat–“Uh … Hey, excuse me? Sorry if I’m interrupted but –”Your friend’s eyes widened as she looked upwards of the tableside. You, on theother hand, dared not look for once: You knew exactly who it was.“Yeah, so, uh …” A sugar cookie with frosting decorated to resemble a sun wasplaced on your napkin. Okay, now youhad to look. You mustered the courage to look at the musician, trying your best to appearcalm and collected yet confused when in reality, you were inwardly flustered,nervous, and confused. The simple bite of his lip almost broke you.“I just wanted to apologize for earlier,” he said. “I usually work best whenthere’s a, you know, specific person in mind to sing for. But I realized alittle too late it’s not everybody’s style so … Cookie.” You could swearyou saw his cheeks hinting red.You regarded the cookie.“It’s … I mean, that was okay, you were only –”“No, it isn’t,” your friend cut in. You and the musician immediately looked ather, both your faces painted with perplexity.“What?” you uttered. Your friend just shook her head.“A cookie isn’t gonna cut it. The poor dear can’t even eat, you made her sonervous with that performance! In fact, I dare say you owe her an actual meal!”Your mouth dropped, eyes widening. What in the ever-living Hell was this bichdoing?!Before you could recite exactly that, your friend practically shot up from herseat.“Lemme get out your way so that the two of you can talk this out. By the time Icome back, I’d better hear the location, price range, everything about thedate!” (At the utterance of “date”, you swore you could feel your heart drop throughyour abdomen.)  “For my approval, of course,” she added. Nothing and nobody could stop her fromthen leaving, practically frolicking into the café building. Leaving you andthe man alone …He actually seemed mostly unfazed. He shrugged, “She’s got a point … Thisplace has decent cookies, but that’s not exactly great compensation.” He plopped himself in the now free chair and scooched in.“I’m Poe, by the way,” he said, offering you his hand. You blinked. He … He was seriously okay with this?! Apparently so.“(Y/N),” you returned, accepting the handshake. It was warm, just likeeverything else about him. Only this time, you didn’t mind the heat as itsurged through you, from your hand to your head.