#BB!Star Flower

[bonefall]

So, your Clear Sky post is absolutely horrifying, but it was very needed, so thank you. What are your general thoughts on tackling his abuse for the AU? Like you've said, pretending he's a good guy is not the way to go, but are you planning on toning down *some* of the situations, just to give some of the cats a break? Clear Sky is a very realistic depiction of abusers, but that seems to come across even without victim number 25, yknow? I'm very curious about how you'd like to go about this.

My most recent big change was bringing Slash back into the fold, because I realized that it was actually a disservice to not address where DOTC's themes dip into Colonialism. It's a hard topic, and I'm still trying to work out the details, but I realized it was important.

With how BB!DOTC is such a MASSIVE overhaul, to properly address abuse and the ways it impacts you, ableism and its violence, and xenophobia broadly, a huge reworking of Slash belonged here too. He's one of the greatest examples of how badly WC demonizes non-Clanborn cats. I shouldn't dance around it.

That's what I need to do with Skystar.

MANY of his victims have happier endings than canon, though. Bumble is one of the most famous, bumped up into a major character and directly responsible for the formation of ThunderClan. Bright Storm is taking most of Gray Wing's roles. Birch and Alder are getting examined, with either a father who wants his kids back or Milkweed as the mate of Misty.

A lot of people will die because of him, even more will be hurt, but I see BB!DOTC as a story about victims and survivors.

Others might grab POVs here and there, but as a response to canon which I feel is Clear Sky's story told in many parts, I center this rewrite around Thunder Storm. The path of kindness he marches down, with love and with anger, and the people he helps.

So BB!Star Flower...

Previously I was playing her as ENTIRELY just manipulating Clear Sky. She was loyal to One Eye and trying to get at Skystar to bleed him dry for 8 lives to sacrifice; but connected to Thunderstar over recognizing him as a victim who deserves her idea of justice. So, she offers Thunderstar the final kill, so her father will be grateful to him and he'll get power AND the death of his abuser.

(When Thunderstar looks upon Skystar, pathetic and neutralized down to one life, he thinks about the collateral damage that will descend upon the forest if he accepts the deal. He decides that he has found the line between Justice and Justification. Of course he wants the power to make his enemies cower, protect his people, and eliminate Clear Sky so he never threatens them again; that's not the problem.

He can still do these things. He wouldn't NEED the power of a war god to do so.

But if One Eye returns, he will be endlessly hungry, ruthlessly dedicated to revenge, and set out to devour the whole forest. Everything would get worse, and even more people he loves would die. It's where his desire to destroy a monster would lead to him BECOMING one.)

Even on its face, it was previously missing an element. There's a step between "Starf decides to bring One Eye back" and "Starf offers Thunderstar the final kill" that was bare. This is the piece that was missing-- That she, herself, is trying to reach out to the only person who's ever really understood her.

But more importantly... I do feel this topic belongs here, in BB!DOTC. Abuse is a MAJOR theme. SKYSTAR is a monster already. He's harmed two wives in BB (Bright Storm and Falling Cry) and played toxic games with all three kits (Thunder Storm, Pale Sky, Tiger Sky).

And I'd avoid Star Flower being abused... why? Because it's uncomfortable to confront the pattern that Clear Sky displays? That in-canon, he tries to cut all his victims into the same ideal shape, from Storm to Thunder to Star Flower? ...it should be uncomfortable. Everything that I described in Clear Sky Is A Monster is rooted in the same desire for control, power, and punishment most abusive people share, he just happens to be a severe example.

Yes. That includes how he treats his child and romantic partners. The parallels that are drawn between Starf and Thunder are there because he wants power in the form of obedience. Starf replaces the son as a narrative award for his "growth" of not killing random people anymore for a while.

A cookie cutter is an effective tool because IT ONLY MAKES ONE SHAPE.

You know what's more uncomfortable? Reading canon!DOTC and seeing someone who hurt you reflected almost perfectly in the character the writers think did nothing wrong. Because of "good intentions" that were not there.

I will say though, just to be clear; I don't see a purpose in being more than PG-13 about serious topics for this project. I promise none of my intentions have changed. Nothing will be more graphic or gorey than canon WC-- just more intentional.

I'm keeping the sacrifice because it's dope. No one is taking this from me. Girl Moment: Killed her awful husband 8 times to count as 8 sacrifices and offered the last life to her buddy as a show of good will. How else do you make friends outside of high school

But I know now that Star Flower NEEDS to keep the canon fact she has very little agency, UNTIL that moment she snaps.

She's sacrificing one abuser to try and bring back a bigger, badder one, because in spite of everything, her father One Eye always made her feel safe. Even though he promised her off to Skystar, and expected her to be willing to die for him. She's followed every command, every order, past the death of his mortal vessel.

The first, and only, selfish choice she's ever made was in reaching out to Thunderstar to offer him the power of her father.

Thunderstar's Justice is a story about a Thunder Storm at the pinnacle of his arc, how the survivors of his Clan are settling into the new normal after the carnage of The First Battle, how Skystar's arrogance brings a violent god to the Forest... and the connection Thunderstar makes with the daughter of a monster.

[hotfuss]

the killers in cleveland 5/8/2012 part 1. photo by randall vasquez, HQ

[starry-bi-sky]

#battinson with chronically ill half dead teenager yesssssssss#I'm imagining that first night he brings danny to the cave and hes just internally panicking#like what do i do with this kid. where do i put him. i cant just leave him in the cave. im DEFINITELY not leaving him alone

FRRRR. Like @/that1badassbitch mentioned in the comments, Bruce's thoughts that entire time was just varying pitches of internal screaming. Which I am still wheezing at because yeah, preach. Bruce's pov from the moment Danny accosts him in the alley to him bringing Danny into the cave ranges from awkward panicking, genuine desperation to get this kid some help, a lot of heartbreak on the boy's behalf, and also just pure anger at his godfather.

Cuz like, who the fuck does this?? How dare he. This boy is a child. If it weren't for Danny's genuine terrified pleading, Bruce would've probably had a confrontation with Vlad. He would've lost, considering Vlad's power set and Bruce's lack of and Vlad would have gotten away with Danny. But he would've tried it. (Could've resulted in a spin-off au where Bruce, after losing to Vlad, proceeds to hunt the bastard down to save Danny.)

But yeah, I absolutely, delightfully agree that Battinson is just. internally panicking the entire time. From the rooftops, to the car, to the driving all the way to the cave -- which, after a quick google search, is apparently in an abandoned train depot in Batman (2022). Which is fascinating to me, but I digress. His internal monologue consists of cussing out Danny's godfather, trying to figure out what the poison is, a repetitive use of the word "FUCK", and him going "keep him awake keep him awake keep him aWAKE--"

But like, in a more Bruce Wayne fashion.

Danny is curled up in the passenger seat beside him and Bruce keeps intermittently checking on him every few seconds. Danny just looks like shit, man. Poor kid has a seemingly unending bloody nose, he's coughed a few times already and each time sounds like its shaking through his lungs and taking a piece out. His breathing is hollow, quietly raspy, and Danny sounds like he's gasping each time he breathes in. He's pale, clammy and sweating, but trembling, and his eyes are glazed over, unfocused, and half-lidded.

Dealer's choice here but I'm very amused but also fond of the idea that Bruce, in an attempt to do anything to soothe this kid, panic-clips off his cape and kinda just. throws it at him. Cringes, then awkwardly tries to adjust it so it's laying over him like a blanket.

It works though! Danny, through his haze, cracks a smile at him before grabbing the cape and practically curling around it. He seems to visibly relax, and Bruce silently slumps with relief that his idea worked. I also think he tries to painfully make some sort of small talk but frankly the only valid form of "small talk" he knows is interrogation. Danny's too out of it to mind though.

Bruce asks him if he knows what his godfather used to poison him.

("Blood Bl'ssom.") ("What is that?") ("A k'nda plant. Issa type o' rose.") ("Where can I find one?") ("Y'can't.") (And hear Bruce's blood chills for a moment. "What do you mean?") ("Blossoms went extinct in th- in the 1600s.") ("What? How is that possible? How'd your godfather get his hands on one?") ("Science.")

He also learns that the poison is, horrifyingly, cannibalistic, and Danny reassures him that he kinda stopped feeling the pain a few hours ago. Then he gags on nothing and spirals into an ugly coughing fit. "...Mostly." He adds on.

I have this very vivid mental image of Battinson screeching to a stop in the cave, Alfred's off to the side messing with some prototype gadgets. Bruce's side door swings open and Alfred's in the middle of snarkily asking if he's decided to get a reasonable amount of sleep tonight, only to immediately eat his tongue when Bruce beelines to the other side of the car and frantically pulls a waifish victorian kid with the tuberculosis blood cough to match out of the passenger's side.

("Dear god, what happened!?") ("His godfather poisoned him. I need towels and every medical device we have in here.")

The few photos I could find of the Battinson Cave did not imply there was a gurney in there, so Bruce uses on of the metal tables. He uses one arm to swipe off all the stuff on there onto the floor before laying Danny down.

It's. a very stressful time! That's for sure. Bruce is stuck between trying to get some form of antidote or at the very least a neutralizer to the blood blossom extract made, and also reassuring Danny that he's going to be fine. He's out of his depth.

They do get Danny stabilized though! How? Uh, I hadn't actually been able to think of how up until now, and this is just me trying to throw together an idea up on the fly. But Bruce like, manages to make some kind of 'antidote' that doesn't completely kill the blood blossom extract, but it makes the poison at least forcibly slow down.

[Forced to put a read more because this got SO LONG. oops]

"like what do i do with this kid. where do i put him. i cant just leave him in the cave. im DEFINITELY not leaving him alone" <<< is his sudden internal crisis after Danny's stabilized and passed out on the table. Giving him back to his godfather is completely off the fucking table, and Bruce can't give him up to CPS because there's a risk that he'll also return to his godfather.

He ends up, unsurprisingly to all of us, on deciding to keep Danny with him for the time being. At least until they can get his godfather behind bars. And you're right! Danny can't stay in the cave -- it's a half-furnished, rundown train depot. There's a tetanus shot waiting around each corner. It's Bruce's (reluctant) idea to take him up to the manor.

So Danny wakes up in an incredibly gothic guest bedroom, not feeling 100%, but also not feeling like total death like he did yesterday. He can still feel the blood blossom in him -- it leaves a joint and muscle soreness throughout his whole body, and when he breathes there's a weight there.

His confusion over where he woke up -- because it's very much not Vlad's place -- is overshadowed by his frank awe. You can't tell me he hasn't developed an appreciation and fondness of gothness due to his friendship with Sam. He might not be into it like Sam is, but he can appreciate the beauty when it's right in front of him.

#and hes got that awkward silent staring thing going on. Danny's trying not to die and vlads not there anymore#so hes unbothered by it really

Bruce pulled up a chair next to Danny's bed in the manor and didn't move a single inch the entire time. Just. sat there and stared to make sure the kid didn't stop breathing in the middle of the night. Probably has some facial recognition scanner going to try and figure out Danny's last name -- whether that works or not is dealer's choice frankly.

Either way, Danny turns his head to the left and nearly jumps three feet into the air when he sees Bruce and his 'stares into your soul' blue eyes. Sends him into a minor coughing fit by accident. Battinson very awkwardly and quietly apologizes. danny kinda just waves him off.

That's a whole conversation I'm not gonna go into, but to sum it up Bruce asks how Danny's feeling, and Danny tells him that he feels better, but he can still feel the blood blossom poison. So whatever he did, didn't get rid of all of it. (He's still incredibly fucking grateful nonetheless)

cue that "getting to know you" interrogation stuff.

(Danny can probably keep the full extent of his halfa status a secret from Bruce at first, but he is forced to tell Bruce about the ectoplasm running through him since it's the only reason the blood blossom toxin even works on him. Which results in him telling him a.. slightly omitted version of why he even has that in there in the first place.)

(Maybe he reveals that he was a hero in order to convince Bruce to let him out on the field rather than being just support? I've got ideas and fortunately your tags will help me delve into them)

#alfred pretends to be exasperated that bruce kidnapped a kid but honestly hes relieved#maybe being responsible for someone else will make bruce more responsible for his own health

no notes. just know that i'm wheezing at this. my friend @kingcrow01 had Alfred essentially reacting the same fucking way.

#the media would eat it up are you kidding??? the reclusive prince of gotham seen with a mysterious child???#and theyve both got that sickly pathetic wet cat look to them what with bruce constantly being injured and danny being chronically poisoned

FR! I love social media shenanigans and I love seeing it in fic (Lex Luthor's Ascent From Supervillainy To Fatherhood is a really good example of it imo), although i'm not too good at making it myself. Imagining how twitter in-universe might react to photo evidence of Danny with Bruce is going to fuel my desire for seeing people's reactions to things for ages. I am delighted to imagine that dumpster fire. The in-universe memes, guys.

Nobody has any clue what this mysterious Wayne child looks like for the longest time because Danny follows Bruce's lead and dresses in Anti-Paparazzi Recluse Fits. Mostly because he's the godchild of an equally reclusive and influential billionaire figure, and I imagine Vlad would pitch a media fit trying to find his poor, beloved godson.

Can you imagine the fucking SCANDAL if people found out that Vlad Masters' godson ran off and was currently living with recluse Gotham Prince Bruce Wayne? The tabloids would eat this shit up. It's a three-course meal that's paying their rent for the next three months. That's not even to say what Vlad might do upon finding out Danny's whereabouts.

So yeah, photo evidence of Danny only has shots of him wearing a large hoodie, one of Bruce's jackets, and a medical face mask and a hat. It doesn't hide any of the Sickly Pathetic Wet Cat look, if anything it enhances it. But you can see his bright 'staring into your soul like the oracle of delphi' blue eyes, and the black curls plastering his face, and his pale skin.

In some photos, as blurry as they are, Danny appears to be leaning into Bruce's side, seemingly using him as a support. The "antidote" (medicine?) Bruce created that first night was effective, but it wears off eventually. Before they make his medical bracelets, the both of them agree to use the antidote Bruce made to stave off the worst of the poison.

These photos are taken around the times the antidote was wearing off or had worn off, and the toxin was taking itself out of the backseat and shifting back into high gear. Despite that, Danny managed to convince Bruce to let him tag along on whatever shopping run he was on.

Someone took one of these photos and captioned it "Pathetic Wet Cat and his Sickly Pathetic Wet Kitten" and posted it on SMS. It got numbers.

Oh my god, I just thought of this but when Battinson is finally cornered by reporters asking him about Danny he does this:

he internally panics, and then with a straight face says "i don't know what you're talking about. i don't have a son." and then he Flees.

(this blows up in his face because the reporter he responded to never asked him if Danny was his son, they asked him who the boy seen with him was. Bruce is trending on twitter before he even makes it home. He's mortified. There's potential here for a scene between Bruce and Danny where they have that long-awaited 'are we family?' conversation.)

#i know everyone's focusing on danny working as a hero with batman and his relationships with dick and jason and everyone as the older siblin#but im still stuck on early days batman with a teenager to care for and how that dynamic is going to be SO DIFFERENT#than that same bruce with a 9 year old Dick. like the circumstances are so different and hes never bat-dopted a kid before this

NO BECAUSE YOU GET IT. YOU GET IIIIT! I fucking love older brother danny, however the biggest appeal of the "eldest son danny" idea is in fact how he and bruce's relationship would have to play out in order for that to happen. You could argue that Danny could be an 'older brother figure' to the Robins and still not have any familial affiliation with Batman, but the fact of the matter is, simply? I want that familial affiliation with Bruce. I want to see how that would play out, and how it would develop.

I am. a scientist prodding a little glass stirring rod at the potential family dynamic of Bruce Wayne and Danny Fenton and going, in complete wonderment and awe, "wow. fascinating. how does that work? how did you happen? what made you? how can i do it again?"

I also think there could be something fascinating over the fact that Bruce Wayne watched his parents die in front of him, while Danny's parents don't even know Danny died at all. A (once) child with dead parents, and a dead child with living parents. I think there's something to be explored there, I just haven't yet figured out what.

And yeah! a teen is completely different than an 8 year old. They're in very different developmental stages in their life, and that's not even addressing their lifestyle differences. When I made this prompt I mentally kinda just placed the death of danny's parents as having happened a few months ago. To me, it feels like enough time for Vlad's temperament to escalate from bad to worse, and for him to actually cook up that blood blossom toxin.

Danny's at a different mourning period compared to Dick, who was brought in while it wasn't even a day old. Maybe Danny hasn't had much time to mourn his family as much as he's wanted because he's been stuck in survival mode living with Vlad, and once he feels secure with Bruce he can finally tap into that grief he's been keeping on the backburner.

Lots of things to explore that can adjusted and changed as needed! Very flexible.

All in all though, I am a sucker for found family and in order for Danny to have family in Dick and the others, he needs to find it with Bruce.

#and this one has a crazy demon murder godfather and poison blood and a history of punching otherworldly apocalypse-creatures#into another dimension. no parenting book will help.

no notes here other than yeah, agreed, wheeze. The good news is that he doesn't need to be completely afraid that those otherworldly potential-apocalypse kickstarters will show up at any random point, Because, imo, Danny shut down and destroyed the portal before he could be shipped off in order to prevent anyway (cough-the GIW-cough) from accessing it. Vlad's the only one with a working portal currently and he's not as careless as the fentons are as to keep it open willy-nilly.

now the only thing he needs to worry about is the crazy demon godfather and the flora-boros blood toxin in his son's veins! whoo.

#and like yeah danny will want to help gotham and save people#but honestly? with his new limitations and no expectations from a previous robin do you think he would do it the same way?

I love this question! because honestly when I was initially expanding on this idea on my own, my initial answer was "no" due to the toxin's limitations. I had the same idea as you where Danny takes on a more 'oracle' role where he's not out in the field, but he's still helping behind the scenes. I was torn between "logically would this happen" as well as "chronically ill people aren't delicate flowers, they can do things" and a little dash of "okay but i really want nightingale out in the field"

In the end I decided that I liked the idea of Danny actually out with Bruce, and that as a result there would need to appropriate consequences and drawbacks for this decision.

#idk guys he fights ghosts because no one else can#i think he'd probably play a much more supportive role. at least at first. << you're totally right, too. And Danny's motivations for wanting to help in Gotham would have to be different than in Amity Park. Oooo this has good character growth potential.

Danny helps Amity Park out of a sense of obligation right? Like obviously it's also because he's a good person, but ultimately it kinda comes across as an obligation. He's the only one who can, so he's the one to do it, despite the fact that throughout the show he's shown to want that normal life. There's guilt there if he doesn't do anything; he has the power to stop this, so why shouldn't he?

(Oo, doesn't that sound kinda familiar? Guilt over something he ultimately has no control over, but thinks he could have?)

So! For him to choose to decide to rejoin the hero life, and not just from behind the curtain, feels like a pretty big character decision to me. Especially because now, he doesn't really have the power to help. Not like he did before.

He's sickly, essentially powerless because using his powers speeds up the toxin, and equipped only with his wits, his creativity, and whatever fighting skills he may have acquired during his time as Phantom -- and whatever martial arts prowess the author decides to have Maddie pass down to Danny.

He's not doing this because he feels like he has to, but because he wants to. I think that's pretty cool.

You reminded me that ideas can be combined too! It's dealers choice for anyone who wants to throw their hat into the ring in how Danny decides to join the frontline fight.

I'm going to kinda contradict myself here but one of my ideas for Danny going from behind-the-scenes to in-your-face-scenes is just. Batman needing backup for a fight. I'm not going to go into specifics for who he's facing, because frankly i'm not sure myself, but he needs backup.

And Danny, who likes to sit in the cave more often than not, waiting for Bruce to come back, sees this through whatever cameras are available. He's stressed out, worried for Batman's safety. This could be a good catalyst for the overarching subplot of him rejoining the hero scene as well as hey, maybe realizing that he doesn't need his powers to help people.

Danny's warring with himself about what to do. Trying to soothe his anxieties by reminding himself that Bruce is an incredible fighter and good at getting out of tight spots, telling himself it would be fine. Rebuffing the little voice in his mind saying he should help by telling it that he might make things worse. And when his subconscious tries to tell him that he can help, he rebuffs it by saying does he need to?

And there, right there, is what's been playing on repeat for however long it takes for him to become nightingale. Every night: "I can help, but do I need to?" and during this night is when he has an epiphany; "No, but I want to."

it's like the sun peaking through the clouds after weeks of gray skies. He wants to help. He can help, but not because he should or because he's able to, although that is important, but because he wants to.

So he finds where Bruce hides the face paint, smears what he think is an adequate amount on his face -- it looks almost mask like. And hunts down one of the spare utility belts -- he ends up having to wrap it around his shoulder and torso like a bandolier due to how tall Bruce is and how willowy Danny is. he already has a hoodie on, and pulls it up over his head. And fuck it, i'm calling down the Rule of Cool Law. Danny finds one of Bruce's spare capes and tears it up to make a makeshift scarf to better hide his face. He gets some other tools he needs that he knows Bruce uses, and then he's off.

(Bruce is both very shocked and very upset when Danny comes crashing through the ceiling with a faux-confident; "Hiyo, B! You're looking pretty bat-tered, so I thought I'd come in and give a helping claw!")

(Results in what I think is a very funny post-fight conversation where they have something of a hissed argument in front of the half-conscious criminals. "what are you doing here?!" "i wanted to help!" "where'd you learn to fight like this?" "mom taught me" -> which causes a fucking BUZZ in the criminal underground when word gets out.)

there's conflict. argument over bruce not wanting danny to come out to help him. Until danny eventually wins out in the end by pulling up footage of phantom on the batcomputer, revealing his previous hero status, and pure damn stubbornness. Bruce agrees but only after he updates Danny's self-defense and gets him a proper suit.

#alfred cant handle TWO wet rats getting beat up every night lol

singling this out because it's funny and you're rIGHT.

#danny innovating new and better bat gadgets. making good humanitarian use of the wayne money in ways that would make sam proud. #making sure alfred isnt the only thing standing between bruce and bruce's death at the hands of the city he loves

Danny's bambi eyes are lethal work, and Alfred's favorite employ whenever Bruce is being stubborn. Even after rejoining the active hero scene, Danny will still team up with Alfred to drag Bruce to bed or rest. Excuse you, don't make the same mistakes he did! He's the elder hero here!

Danny churns out so many anti-ghost gadgets for Bruce for the inevitable confrontation with Vlad, along with non-ecto gadgets just because he wants him safe. It becomes an unusual bonding experience for the both of them to come up with gadget ideas together and then figuring out how to make it work, and then building them together.

Vigilante equivalent of helping dad in the garage except you're both fixing the car and telling the other to grab them the 3/5th quarter-inch flathead screwdriver from the toolbox.

Danny is delighted to have someone to bounce ideas off of with, as does Bruce.

For the good old "fights are one of the ways ghosts socialize" trope: They have regular training sessions, but it's Danny who asks if they could sometimes just have some for-fun sparring sessions. Then has to very embarrassedly explain to Bruce that it's just something ghosts do with each other to socialize sometimes.

Bruce reads between the lines and sees it for what it is: play fighting. Danny's asking to play fight. There are no parenting books on taking care of a half-ghost teen, but he immediately thinks on a documentary on lions he saw a while ago and agrees.

These play fights more often than not result in Danny being tossed around like a ragdoll and loving it -- he's light as feathers and being thrown up into the air feels like he's flying again. Something he can't do anymore for obvious reasons. Plus the ghostly bonding thing.

I don't have much to add about the humanitarian use of wayne money thing, i agree. It also makes Bruce proud and could help inspire him to start getting more involved with Wayne Industries so he can start using his parents' company for humanitarian use as well.

#MAN imagine the fluff of danny learning to decipher bat grunts#if anyone has experience seeing past the crazy obsessive seemingly single minded focus of a parental figure and to the real love and care#that exists so deeply and truly under and throughout it all it'll be danny

aaaaaa, man you're so right. i was talking to crow about this but, for context, the idea was that Nightingale has a tendency to sometimes bite his opponents. And it's become something almost like a signature surprise move because he has Ghost Fangs, but the first time this happens its during some kind of gang fight between B, Gale, and a handful of goons.

However, the fight halts to surprised stop when one of the guys shrieks out; "OW, HE BIT ME!" and like a spell, everyone turns, flabbergasted, towards the guy who said it. Because what the fuck did you mean he bit you, wHY IS HE BITING.

And there, hanging off the guy's arm with all the smug self-satisfaction of a cat, is Nightingale, with his fangs still chomped down onto the guy's arm. There's a few seconds of silence, long enough for everyone to see what's going on, before Gale reorients his momentum and kicks the guy square in the jaw; knocking him out cold.

The thing that catches everyone's attention is that Nightingale drew blood. They watch, half-terrified, half-baffled, as the kid scrunches his nose up, wipes at his mouth, and makes a noise of disgust. He turns to look at Batman, who has also stopped what he's doing to stare as well.

Nightingale asks him; "Am I gonna have to get checked for this?"

Rather than deign him with a response, Batman remains silent. They stare at each other for three whole seconds, before Nightingale clicks his tongue like Batman had said something he didn't like, but expected.

"Aw, okay." Then without missing a beat, he turns and launches himself like a feral cat at the closest person next to him, and the room descends back into chaos once more.

Man, I'm just imagining them working next to each other on their own personal project, and Danny will quietly ask for Bruce's opinion on something. Bruce gives him a single grunt, and Danny's silent for a moment, contemplative, before muttering something like "huh, i guess you're right" or "oh, good idea."

Danny eventually adopts Bruce's little "hrm" quirk himself, and it slowly goes from: "hey, what do you think about this?" "hrm" "that's what I thought too" to: "..hmn?" "hm."

The ever consistent urge to make Your Blorbo The Most Specialist Character On The Block Ever is forever a plague of mine, and I'm very tempted to say that Danny is the only other kid except Cass who can do the "hm?" "hn" thing back to back with Bruce. Don't get me wrong, the other batkids can do the "Hey X thing" "hm" "okay" thing, and on some level can do the "hm" "hm" thing too, but they can't do it quite to the same extent as Danny can, and its from those years where it was just the two of them.

but yess!! I agree! Danny's got experience with that kind of obsessiveness, Bruce reminds him a lot of his parents that way and he understands it the best out of all his siblings as a result. It also means, however, that he willingly goes in to drag Bruce out of whatever obsessive rabbit hole he's fallen into, if he feels that Bruce has been too hyperfocused on something. He saw it with his parents, and it ended up killing them. He's not losing another dad because of his foolish tunnel vision.

#bruce is so much quieter than his parents but man if danny doesnt understand him. and maybe bruce comes to learn what dannys used to as well#comes to learn to speak his affection and open up so much more. to make danny feel more comfortable and welcome

AGAIN, NO NOTES. This is perfect and yes. I've got nothing to add.. okay I lied, i just needed a moment to think. Bruce isn't the most physically affectionate person, but he starts to be thanks to Danny, who is very tactile. Same thing with verbal praise, Danny hardly got any of it in school or, regretfully, at home since Jazz tended to get all the praise.

Bruce tells him "good eye" once after Danny spotted something before Bruce did, and Danny preened so brightly Bruce genuinely wondered if stars were going to appear over his head. He'd gotten his hands on video footage about Phantom that had shown him doing that exact same thing.

(oh which reminds me. The moment Danny tells Bruce about his previous hero experience as Phantom, Bruce goes on a research helldive to get his hands on everything about it. He's watched every single video showing Phantom. There were very few videos of Phantom that weren't videos of his fights, which were horrifying to watch on multiple levels.

Including but not limited to the fact that ghosts could apparently survive the most lethal of injuries, and he was never going to get the image of Phantom yanking a steel pipe out of his chest out of his head, or him pulling out a broken chunk of glass from his throat.)

(It was even worse seeing videos of Danny's parents shooting at him. That was a long, uncomfortable conversation.)

Another time Bruce is asking Danny about being a ghost, and Danny wistfully tells him that the thing he misses most is flying. Grappling through the city is the closest thing to it, but it's still fundamentally different -- and in some ways more exciting -- than flying. The closest comparison he could give is an indoor skydiving ring.

Bruce, a week later, rents out an indoor skydiving ring for the day and Danny spends hours inside the wind tunnel. He tells Bruce all about the similarities and differences in the car on the drive home, and then tells him that next time Bruce should try it too.

Just, all-in-all, seeing how these two interact and impact each other is what makes this so appealing to me. Especially with early years Batman. And I had so much fun typing all this out, thanks for the opportunity to infodump haha.

#UGH OP THIS POST TT-TT

AH YOUR TAGS <33

I am loudly pushing the batdad agenda i am loudly pushing the— DPxDC Prompt

“Woah. You look like shit."

Granted, that’s probably not the first thing Danny should be saying to the guy that just bit the curb, but in his defense; he’s not running on 100% right now either.

The man -- tall, towering, and broader than Danny is tall -- whips around on his heel, black frayed cape flaring out impressively. Danny would've whistled in appreciation, but he takes the time instead to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood running from his nose across his cheek.

"Sorry." He blinks widely, not even flinching as the man with the horns zeroes in on him. "That was rude of me. I have a really bad brain-to-mouth filter; Sam says its what always gets me into trouble."

And she's not wrong either, per say. His smart mouth is what landed him in this situation -- with blood blossom extract running through his veins and cannibalizing the ectoplasm in his bloodstream. Thanks Vlad.

The man grunts at him; a short, curt "hm" that shouldn't make Danny smile, but he does because he's somewhat delirious and probably concussed. The man keeps some kind of distance, sinking towards the shadows of Gotham's alleyway like he dares to melt right into it.

If it's supposed to scare Danny, it doesn't work. Danny's never been afraid of the dark; he's always been able to hide himself in it. He blinks slowly at the mass of shadows.

"You look hurt." The shadows says, blurring together around the edges. Danny squints, and licks his lips to get the blood dripping down his chin off. Ugh, he hates the taste of blood.

"I am." He says, "My godfather poisoned me. M'dying." The agony of the blood blossom eating him from the inside out looped back around to numbing a while ago, so all he feels is half-awake and dazed.

"Hey," Danny stumbles forward towards the man, a bloodied hand reaching out to him. "You-- you're a hero, right? You're not attacking me; which is more than I can say for most costumed people I've met." Maybe it's a poor bar to judge someone at, but he's already established that Danny's not in his right mind.

The man makes no change in expression, but Danny realizes blearily that it's hard to tell with the shadows on his face. He stays still long enough for Danny to latch onto the cape -- stretchy, but almost soft under his fingers.

He looks up blearily into the whites of the man's eyes. "Can you help me? I don't-- I don't wanna die." Again. He doesn't wanna die again. He blinks slow and lizard-like. "I mean- I'll probably get to see mom and dad again, but I told them I'd at least try and make it to adulthood."

There's a clatter down the street, and Danny's ghost sense chills up his spine and leaves a bitter, ashy taste in his mouth. He immediately knows who it belongs to even before the deceptively gentle; "Daniel?" echoes down the way.

"Daniel? Quit your games, badger, Gotham is dangerous for children."

Danny's mouth pulls back, and blood spills against his tongue. "Please." He rasps, and grabs onto the shadow's cape with both hands. "Please. He's going to kill me. Please--"

"Daniel? Is that you?"

His lips part, dragging in air to plead with the darkness again. He doesn't need to, the whites of his eyes narrow, and the cape whirls around him before Danny can blink. Soon swaddled in shadows, the Night lifts him up, and steals him away.

[cosmical-flowers]

Putting this into the void but I just litterally had the best scouting experience the past few days?

not only did I get the Hiiro Amagi Card I’ve wanted since I played this game (Innocent Prince), I got A 5 star Tetora I wanted, the new Fs2 Izumi and I just got a 5 star Rei before I went to sleep. I dont usually have this great luck and dang. I needed it. Anyways passing this luck onto others because yall deserve it

[xolaanii]

!!!!!!!!! HAPPY!!!!!! BIRTHDAY!!!!!!!! VAL!!!!!! XOXOX KISS KISS KISS LOVE YOU

Thank u baby I love you so so much you have no idea 🥺🥺🥺❤️❤️❤️❤️

[basiclauren]

bringing back my fav baddie for Star Wars day.

I just unapologetically love him so much 😩

art done by me 🥰

just my take on the drawing of Boba giving the finger

I love Boba and flowers 🥹

[sanjoongie]

𝑰 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐

ღPairing: Jung Wooyoung x Reader (f)

ღAu: office au, single parent au

ღTrope: Rivals to Lovers

ღGenre: fluff, pure and simple

ღRating: PG, MDNI (regardless of the genre I do not allow minors to interact with my work)

ღWarnings: Wooyoung is a little shit, child temper tantrum, slightly spoiled child rearing, you will fall in love with petal and wooyoung with petal

ღWord Count: 1,037

ღSummary: when you inexplicably have to bring your daughter to work, she bonds with the one person you wished she wouldn't

ღBeta's: @mejuii & @downtoamagicalland who will beta even the softest of soft fluff for me

ღDedication: @smallfrye & @starlitmark my bbs who love the dad/single parent aus. this one is for you. and to @daesukiii my favorite wooyoung stan who just about lost it when i told her about this

ღInspired by this. Enjoy this soft fic for the easter long weekend 💞

ღdivider by @cafekitsune

You knew it was a bad idea to bring your daughter to your office while you worked but when your fucker of an ex-husband dumped her on you--on his week--and your babysitter gone south for the week, you were out of options.

You knew it was a bad idea but the feeling didn’t cement until you saw her with Jung Wooyoung.

Wooyoung was everything you hated in a coworker. He was lazy, he was always playing around at work and most importantly, he somehow managed to get everything done. As someone who worked diligently at the software company, Wooyoung was the one person you hated to interact with. 

So seeing your daughter patiently draw flowers on some printer paper, explaining to him which ones were her favorite and which ones were her Mama’s favorite, hit a nerve.

“Petal, what are you up to?” You chirped, sitting opposite of her at the lunch table.

“I’m teaching Wooyoungie about flowers,” Your daughter informed you solemnly. 

Wooyoungie. Uh oh. 

You hummed in acknowledgement. Wooyoung wore a tiny smile of smugness which you couldn't contend while in front of your daughter. “Is he listening?” You asked.

Your daughter nodded. “Yes, Mama,” she responded, completely focused on the task at hand, which was struggling to draw the shape of lilies. 

“Am I a good listener, Petal?” Wooyoung prompted from your daughter.

You glared over the precious head of your daughter. She was normally very shy, how the hell did he coax her to sit on his lap and draw? Not to mention, you did not appreciate your rival using your pet name for your daughter. 

Your daughter stopped drawing and looked up at Wooyoung like he hung the stars in the sky. She smiled brightly and nodded and then went back to her drawing. Fuck.

Wooyoung preened, pleased at the praise. You rolled your eyes. “Well, it’s lunch now, Petal. Remember how Mama said she’d take you to your favorite place?”

“Chicken nuggies, Chicken nuggies!” Your daughter chanted, bouncing in Wooyoung’s lap. “Can Wooyoungie come too?”

“No, Petal, it’s just--” you and me never left your mouth because your daughter threw a fit.

“That’s not fair!” She threw her pencil across the room and raged. “I want Wooyoungie to come!”

You opened your mouth to scold your daughter but Wooyoung somehow got to it first. “Now Petal,” He said patiently. He turned your daughter around so that he could look at her face to face. “That’s no way to act at Mama’s workplace. And we say chicken nuggets not chicken nuggies.”

Oh this bitch. You bristled at Wooyoung correcting your daughter, even though that was exactly what you were going to say. She was your daughter, not his. Who was he--?

Your daughter’s lower lip pushed out, her voice sounding wobbly. “But Wooyoungie!”

Wooyoung shook his head. “Apologize to Mama.”

“Mama,” Your daughter wailed softly, crocodile tears building up at the corner of her eyes.

“You’re forgiven,” You said quickly. “Wooyoungie can come.” You winced at mimicking your daughter.

“Yay!” Tears gone and forgotten, it seemed, as she threw her arms around Wooyoung’s neck and proclaimed him the best.

Lunch went surprisingly well. Wooyoung coaxed your daughter to eat pretty much everything. You had to school your face when he let her feed him. You actually managed to eat your own food since Wooyoung had your daughter preoccupied. Back at the office, you were able to work, even though every so often you looked over your monitor to see Wooyoung and your daughter seemingly having the time of their lives. It grated against your nerves that your daughter was practically in love with your rival at work but you couldn't help but acknowledge how well behaved she was because of his presence. 

Before you knew it, it was the end of the day, and a moment you were lowkey dreading. You had to tell your daughter that it was time to say goodbye to Wooyoung and you knew she was going to throw a fit. 

“Petal, time to say goodbye to Wooyoung, okay? He’s gotta go home now, we’re done work,” You spoke sweetly to your stubborn daughter.

“No,” Your daughter said petulantly, “I don’t want to.” Her chubby arms were wound around Wooyoung’s neck so tightly, you were surprised he wasn’t choking.

Wooyoung bounced your young daughter in his arms like. “Hear that? She doesn’t want to.”

“You’re not helping things, Wooyoung,” You growled.

“Mama~!” Your daughter started up again. “I’m staying with Wooyoung.”

You winced. “Petal, you can’t stay with Wooyoung, he has his own home to go to, and we do too.”

“Don't want to,” Your daughter refused again.

“She doesn’t want to!” Wooyoung reaffirmed.

You began to rub your temples. Other than ripping your crying child from Wooyoung’s arms, you didn’t know what else you could do. 

“Guess you’re coming home with me, huh?” Wooyoung said to your daughter, which caused your heart to leap into your throat. In fact, you were two steps towards him before you could stop yourself.

“Mmmm,” Your daughter agreed, playing with Wooyoung’s necklace. 

You set aside your pride and pleaded with your rival. “Wooyoung, please.”

Wooyoung cuddled your daughter to his chest, placing a hand delicately on her head--and over her ears. “Listen, come back to my place. Let her tire herself out and then you can take her home when she falls asleep.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. Wooyoung? Being reasonable?

He had the decency to look slightly bashful. “I kinda egged her on. Let me buy you dinner?”

The look in his eyes was a little too hopeful but you dismissed it. “Fine. But this is a one-off time, Wooyoung.”

Your daughter struggled in Wooyoung’s arms, wanting to hear what the adults were saying. “Wooyoungie’s home?” She said, with almost a similar, hopeful, look in her eyes.

You sighed heavily. “Yes, Petal, we’ll go to Wooyoungie’s.” 

You visibly winced at mimicking your daughter again. Wooyoung didn’t let it go a second time, however. He winked at you and said, “Hopefully you’ll start calling me Wooyoungie at work.”

“Don’t even Wooyoung,” You said under your breath.

And Wooyoung had a smug smile on his face the entire elevator ride down.

taglist: @hijirikaww @k-pop-ology

[surely-sims]

SMALL SIMBLR SATURDAY SHOUTOUTS !!

AKA an excuse for me to yell about how much I love these incredible free CC creators and throw flowers at them.

@lumenniveus - LxN CC 🌹

LxN makes some of the most interesting, whimsical, and creative CC that i think the community at large is so lacking. Every time I load up his CC In my game I find myself smiling and laughing at all the love and little jokes he includes. Please Please Check out his stuff if you haven't already. I think he might be the most tragically slept on BB creators.

▶ Check out LxN Here!

@hamsterbellbelle 🌸

HamsterBelle is one of the most brilliant creators I've come across in this community. Not only is she crazy smart and makes some of the coolest cyberpunk CC I've ever seen, she is also a mind blowing builder and takes the time to write out some incredibly helpful tutorials. I've learned so much from her whether she knows or not haha. 🐹💖

▶ Check out HamsterBellBelle here!

@nolan-sims 🌼

Not only is Nolan a goddamn pillar of this community for many years but she's also an incredible, sweet, and wonderfully talented creator and friend. Her CC is always so well thought through, completely original, and lovingly detailed. We definitely don't deserve her. 😭💗

▶ Check out Nolan here!

BONUS ROUND: 💐

All these creators are amazing and I would carve their names into the stars but ya'll would shoot me if this post kept going and going down your dash that long.

⭐ @gilded-ghosts Amazing amazing vintage CC, thoughtful, beautiful original meshes and textures. ( X ) ⭐ @myshunosun Myshuno deserves all the hype and praise her CC gets. She's an absolutely lovely human and has saved my ass once or twice too. ( X ) ⭐ @dallasgirl79 DallasGirl makes the best heels your sims will ever wear. Hard stop. I will not be taking questions at this time. ( X ) ⭐ @doctorsimcraft A dear friend, an amazing writer, builder and maker of delightful vintage Build/Buy CC too. ( X ) ⭐ @vyxated HOLY FUCK. Vxyated is crazy intelligent. Their work with CAS rooms and now the new Rig Plus Helper is mind blowing. ( X ) ⭐ @adjusted-karma ( X ), @simmireen ( X ), @herecirm-warcry ( X ), @rebouks ( X ), @madebycoffee ( X ) Beautiful people, beautiful poses. Also Ireen runs @ts4-poses which is a goddamn godsend to this community. ⭐ @twentiethcenturysims ( X ), @chere-indolente ( X ) Fantastic Historical CC from two very good eggs. ⭐ @jellymoo ( X ), @laeska ( X ), @xldkx-cc ( X ) Three lovely and fantastically talented CAS creators that put a ton of thought and effort in going the extra mile with their CC and it absolutely shows. ⭐ @awingedllama Anna is smart, skilled, and deserves all the flowers she's gotten this year. We really do love to see it. ( X ) ⭐ @kamiiri Some of the best hairs that have ever graced my game. I am actually obsessed. ( X )

If I missed anyone I apologize, but please know every single free CC creator makes my heart grow a little bigger every day. 💖 And to my fellow Creators, Storytellers, Simmers - Go make weird shit, make something that makes you laugh, make something that brings you joy. Cause y'know what? That joy bleeds into your work and we can all see it and feel it. That joy is infectious and special and THAT is what makes this community worth being a part of.

xo, Anne 🦐

[marikosenwrites]

kazuuuuuuuu for anythin pls

inazuma men dating head canons

sen: okay so first request im nervous af shitttt but anon thanks for the request! i'm gonna do inazuma men dating head canons because head canons are literally the easiest to do but i enjoy doing them! (since it's "for anythin" i'm gonna do gn!reader) surprisingly little inazuman men btw (wanderer is in sumeru but kuni and scara sob not including them)

warnings: names called, ooc?, i can't do poetry (kazuha esp)

gn!reader

kazuha

♡he's a soft bb

♡when he first confessed, he read a poem instead of normally confessing and this is normal for kazuha to speak in riddles

♡you had to think for a minute until you figured it out

♡ofc you accepted his confession

♡you guys went on small dates at first, like at uyuu-tei and such

♡soon, you started going to each other's houses instead

♡like home dates and you would drink tea and cuddle on the couch together <3

♡sometimes he would stay for the night

♡like one time he came over and a thunderstorm happened

♡so he was like "the rain doesn't stop me from returning home."

|♡"but, i wouldn't want you to catch a cold! ah, i know! you can stay for the night, i bet i have some larger clothing that suits you." you tried stopping him from leaving.

|♡kazuha smiles, "as you wish, my love."

♡so you let him shower first and then you

♡he wore a large shirt of your that your aunt gifted (she mistakenly had your size wrong)

♡you guys cuddle in bed and he gives you a small forehead kiss that makes you go to sleep

♡you just smile and lean closer into his chest

|♡"may the stars of teyvat representing me be with you even when i'm not here, my darling."

thoma

♡loves you lots

♡he goes on dates with you at the komore teahouse, you both were ayato's friends so he allows it

♡you guys love taroumaru to death

♡even if you had an allergy, you would just wear a mask and look at taroumaru lovingly from a distance

♡i feel like thoma's a simple is best kinda guy

♡so the simplest dates ever, like just cafe dates or home dates thats all no further planning needed

♡if you have a garden or something like that, you guys just hang out in the grass and like make flower crowns (if you or thoma know how to make one)

|♡lying in the grass be like "dear me, these flowers are so pretty. but do you know what's prettier?" he asks you, turning his head to look at you.

|♡"...no, what is it, thoma?" you reply while you fiddle with the petals.

|♡"you." he says, as he watches your cheeks turn bright red and put tomatoes to shame.

|♡"...thoma! that's so cheesy!" you would tell him, but your reaction says otherwise.

♡regularly stays at your home, or stays with you at the kamisato residence if ayato and ayaka allows.

♡often big spoon if you're gonna like do cuddling and stuff in bed

|♡"goodnight, darling! have a sweet dream, i'll still be here when you wake up. if waka doesn't wake me up, i guess."

arataki itto

♡would often play that game (i forgot) with you

♡challenges children with you too

♡i'm gonna expect that the two of you are playful so you're gonna be like YESS when the child says okay to yours and itto's antics

♡you guys gonna keep losing and then like get one or two victories and stuff

|♡"YES YES YES WE WON!!!" itto screamed in happiness.

|♡"I KNOW, ITTO, I KNOW!" you screamed back at him, frightening the kids, both of you.

♡their parents gonna ask them to stay away from you but they're like "NO IT'S FUN"

♡they end up getting grounded for a week 💀

♡he stays at your house for at least one night if you have home dates because kuki is coming after him

|♡when you're like "NO SNACKS FOR YOU THEY'RE MINE"

|♡he would shout back "NO FAIR I WANT THEM TOO"

♡and you two end up on the couch sharing the pack of chips with him

♡you fall asleep on him and as the "caring boyfriend" he just sleeps too

♡in the morning you wake up first because itto is such a sleeper

♡you have to make breakfast for him but he wakes up in the middle of you making breakfast and gives you back hugs <33

|♡"morning...did you have a nice sleep?"

gorou

♡feel like he's the type to confess first

♡he gave you apples when he confessed (there are a lot in watatsumi i suppose (and fruits))

♡supports pda and doesn't support pda at the same time

♡maybe holding hands and smol kisses

♡likes inviting you to watatsumi and pick fruits together <3

♡his nickname for you is just the shortened form of your name (if ur name is already short well.... just your name i'm sorry)

|♡"n/n, look! this one's perfect! come on, i'll pick it with you." gorou gestures for you to go over to him.

|♡you go over to the boy. "oh, really? wow...it really is perfect!"

|♡"i know, right? come on, pick it."

♡after some convincing, gorou picks it for you 💀

♡you guys just hang in his house (if he has one) bc you're still in watatsumi and no you dont live there

♡he's skilled with his hands (both in cooking and...the other way)

♡loves being the big spoon when sleeping with you

♡actually wraps his tail around your stomach to keep your warm

♡cooks your breakfast when you wake up

|♡"n/n, it's time to wake up! i have breakfast on the table for you, come on, it's apple pie!"

kamisato ayato

♡i used to say kamistos shit ignore it

♡your confession caught him off guard (you confessed first)

♡he also has feelings for you

♡so ayato asked if you would like to go to komore teahouse when his schedules are a bit more manageable

♡ofc you said yes

♡yall were just chilling and getting to know each other at the teahouse

♡doesn't exactly favor pda you realized

♡as the head of the kamisato clan, assassins are often planted in his house

♡doesn't want you to get hurt bc of him

♡you end up getting hurt? YOU'RE STAYING WITH ME FOR 2 MONTHS

♡showers you with affection when you're alone though

♡quadraple triple double checks if yall are alone

|♡"okay, seems like we're alone now," your boyfriend states, giving in to his uncertainty and letting out a tired sigh before coming to your loving arms on the couch.

|♡"'yato, are you sure you don't need a break? ayaka seems bored lately." you slightly massage his shoulders, feeling his tense muscles relax at your touch.

|♡"maybe some time. most of the events need me to be participating. i'm sorry i can't spend more time with you, love."

♡you hum in silence

♡ayato loves that you're getting along well with ayaka

♡he has her teaching you swordsmanship

♡sometimes thoma joins ("but, waka, i wanna join! i wanna help y/n-san!" -thoma)

♡ok so sleep positions

♡sleeps face up

♡but when you're there (usually after the attacks or smth) he's wrapping his arms around you while sleeping on his side

|♡"good night, darling. let's hope none of the little bugs bother us tonight. have plenty of sweet dreams, good night."

shikanoin heizou

♡his ego went *BOOM* when you confessed to him

♡heizou loves solving mysteries with you <3

♡one time he asked you to attend his case so you can see how cool he is

♡loves sharing food with you (?)

♡goes to onsens with you all the time

♡loves listening to music with you too

|♡"isn't this piece soothing?" he would ask you, putting an arm around your waist.

|♡"of course, 'zou. this is just right for me," you would answer, leaning into him.

♡loves staying at your house for some reason??

♡also stays for like a month once at a time probably half his year is in your house

♡but he doesn't mind

♡your presence is enough to soothe him and his tired mind

♡just sleeps face up

♡you do too

♡he always wakes up earlier than you, case or no case

♡BREAKFAST!!!

|♡"morning, my love. had a good sleep? i hope you did, because breakfast is coming."

(would do this at 7am idk why)

a/n: i learned the art of putting the "keep reading" sign (thumbs up!)

©all banners, dividers, and stories are made by marikosenwrites and the pictures in it are from pinterest. i own none of the GENSHIN IMPACT characters mentioned here.

[my-great-big-book-of-fan-fiction]

The Taming of Man - Dragon-shifting Katsuki Bakugou x F!reader

Ay Yo, Starting a series maybe perhaps??? Idk, felt cute, might delete later. seriously though, lemme know what you think, because I'd really enjoy writing this out all the way.

EXTREMELY BASED ON The Willow Maid by Erutan, pls listen for best experience, lyrics at the end are from this!

words: 1,958

warnings: cursing, blood, probably poorly translated German, reader is she/her and will be AFAB in the future if I write this all the way out

"Fuckin' Bluebloods," Katsuki grumbled to himself, waving the Pyre Pine twig he'd picked up, batting at cobwebs and whipping tall Acrimony Trees. The trees, true to their namesake, warped their crimson roots up through the maroon dirt to try and trip him. He had been in this forest a thousand times before though, and simply dodged them, hopping on top of them as his clunky boots pounded into the ground.

He kicked at popping Portobello's, their ashy and highly spiced spores exploding out with a crackle into what fittingly appeared to be mushroom clouds, and jabbed at the star-shaped Fire flowers, which attempted to burn away his stick with flickering flames and a high-pitched squealing sound. The good thing about Pyre Pines is that they were fire-resistant, so the flowers died without retribution.

Yes, Prince Katsuki of Forrmidūl was in a terrible mood, and it was all thanks to some rich asshole who thought he was better than him. He had met with the prince of Novia earlier that day, Katsuki's mother and Prince Tenya's Father hoping for some kinship between them as the people of their countries were viciously feuding. Sure, the guy was civil, nice even, but Katsuki hated the way he looked at him. Like he was a brute. A savage. He hated the way he picked at their nations best delicacies, scraping off perfectly good Portobello paste, and he hated the way he couldn't do anything about it.

The very remembrance of it made his jaw clench, his fists tightening. He wacked at a blazing thistle with all his strength, the wine-colored stemming tips of the petals shooting off into mini red fireworks. A couple went wayward, flying into the skin of his arm. Shit. They set off, causing wounds similar to ones you might get from being shot with a BB. "God Fucking Dammit," He yelped, gripping at his left tricep and scowling at the dead plant. He swung at it a couple times more, beating the poor thing to a red mess. It wasn't blood, of course, but rather crimson chlorophyll that all plants this ring of the forest contained.

You see, he was currently in the first and largest ring of the Farbenreich Forest, known as either Böse or simply Rot, an area many dared not enter. Sure, other countries sat near the outer rim of it, but none were brave enough to seek entertainment or peace there. The area was highly dangerous, as you could definitely see, and the only people who explored it were highly skilled Dragonborne such as the Soon to be king, Katsuki.

The rings of the rainbow forest went as followed:

Böse or Rot; the ring of Rage

Eisen or Orange; The Ring of Protection

Schatz or Gelb; The Ring of Treasures

Leben or Grün; The Ring of Life

Nebel or Blau; The Ring of Mist

Unbekannt; The Unknown.

Some called Unbekannt, the center, Leela, assuming it'd be purple and follow the pattern of all the other rings, but many simply called it Unbekannt because that's what it was; Unknown. Katsuki had read about each ring in books, craving to know what was in the center, but he himself actually feared it. He never went farther than the very beginnings of Eisen, something deep within him compelling him to turn back.

He sighed, taking a seat on a rock and making sure no moss was present. The vivid memory of traveling this place with his father and sitting on a rock covered in Magma moss still haunts him. If he could recall, he couldn't sit down without being in pain from the burns for a month after. He hung his head for a moment, regaining what little calm he had, and tried to figure out what to do about his little wounds.

They'd heal in no time, surely, but at the moment blood was trickling out of each little indent in his skin. he decided to take off his linen shirt, ripping off the sleeves. He wrapped one around his muscled arm, flexing after securing it to make sure it wouldn't fall off. He took the other one and repeated, adding two layers of protection.

He told his mother he'd go camping tonight, bringing nothing with him so he could truly rough it like he always did, but given the circumstances he decided it'd be best to head back home. He stood up, turning around to head back, before something reached his ears. What was that? The humming of a dragonfly? no, it wasn't dragonfly season...no, it was definitely someone singing. Singing like an angel. He turned to the sound, whipping around but unable to face it. Who the hell was in here?!

He finally pinpointed it, realizing it was coming from deeper in the forest. Dare he wander farther? He heard many a story of mischievous Faerie creatures luring unsuspecting men to their deaths, but it was all fiction. He just wanted to know what it was...who it was...

He hesitantly began walking farther into the woods, his attention no longer on abusing the flora. He stopped periodically to close his eyes, keying in on the sound to be sure he was following it closely. Before he knew it, he was already entering Eisen, The sturdy and squat mahogany trees practically forming a wall, a maze of sorts. Mind you, when I say Mahogany, I mean the color and not the breed of wood we know.

He walked as far as he could, before the grove became too tightly packed for his muscled body to fit through. He looked around, determined to move forward and find the source of the lovely music, before finally looking up. He immediately began to climb up the dense tree formation, climbing for a solid 2 minutes before reaching the top. He stood amongst the tangerine leaves, examining what was before him.

These trees were hardly as tall as Acrimonies, so he couldn't see far, but he could see a break in the amber foliage. He carefully hopped from tree to tree, the leaves and branches unmoving, thanking whatever deity blessed him to have this adventure in the fall when most snakes and other deadly animals were hibernating. He eventually was able to make his way down, already at the joining between Eisen and Schatz.

He looked down, the soft orange grass transitioning into golden shreds. He carefully stepped on the new grass, grass he had never seen the likes of before, and it crunched beneath his feet. Pulling back, He saw that it bent like metal flakes, curling under. He began to continue his trek inward, looking around at the tall and thin fruit trees that appeared to be made of solid gold or silver. They held apples made of ruby, blueberry bushes made of sapphire, acorns of diamond...even the leaves were made of paper thin shreds of metal. Everything was shiny, and it appeased his dragon brain.

He reached up, snatching an apple off its lustrous stem, something that would take the average man all his strength to do. Stuffing it in his pack, he continued to grab up different leaves and gemstone fruits. It was heavy, really fucking heavy, but he was compelled to take as much as possible. At least, he was, before stumbling upon a skull. A human skull. A human skull, who's body was crushed beneath piles of treasure. Yeah...fuck that. He immediately dropped what was in his arms, whatever dragon instinct that had enraptured his brain being forced to silence for a moment.

Besides, that voice was getting louder, meaning he was getting closer. At this point, he could just barely tell that the singing wasn't just a tune, it had words, words that hurt his ears to try and make out at this distance. He shook off the greed he once felt, forcing himself to carry on and simply avoid looking at the stuff around him.

This section felt like the longest because of the fact that he'd have to ignore his animal brain, but it was probably smaller than all the others. He finally reached Leben, the smell hitting him before anything else. He could smell rain, and fresh flowers, and dirt. It was earthy, it was floral, it was life. He stepped to the border, watching the plants fade from gold to green. All around him was green, he'd never seen anything like it.

The trees had spirals of moss growing up the sides, a cool breeze flowing through the flora and ventilating the area. Pink flowers, similar in look to the fire flowers, sat close to the ground, it's petals facing up to the sky. Katsuki watched as a fly slowly and leisurely buzzed past, before one of the flowers shot up and snapped around it like a shark closing its jaws. Good to know.

Katsuki trod through the forest, the damp and rich soil sinking beneath his weighty step, doing his best to touch nothing as he needed to stay cautious. As he moved along, the singing got louder, and he finally could make out a couple words. The ones that stood out to him were "man" and "Forest."

He had to know what this was, who this was. He didn't even realize he had been walking for two hours in total, nor did he realize that the end of Leben was fast approaching.

The air became wetter as he reached Nebel, and he could see the misty area ahead. It was as if there was a wall of fog, a marker for the point of no return. He took a deep breath, gulping a little. "Toughen the fuck up," he muttered to himself, before finally stepping in.

The second he entered the area, it was as if night fell. He couldn't see the sky, nor the plants, nor the ground. Only fog. Even with his night vision he was blind here, and it irritated him. He began to walk forward, keeping his eyes open to try and see the slightest differences, but soon found himself re-entering Leben.

The fuck?

He tried again, and again he was in Leben. He knew now why Unbekannt was Unbekannt. He sighed, closing his eyes. This time, he saw with his ears. He cued in on the beautiful voice, the tone, the words. He slowly began walking towards it, redirecting himself when the sound began to get farther instead of nearer.

Louder and louder the voice became, Clearer and clearer, Until he no longer felt wet fog on his face. He opened his eyes, and what he saw amazed him. The trees were full of life, vibrant with fruit and leaves of all colors hanging from them, wildflowers growing in hefty fields in all arrangements of hue and style, and best of all, the singing maiden.

She was sitting on a ginormous tree stump, centered in the ring of trees, washing her feet in a brook that shimmered in all the colors of the rainbow. Her clothes looked handmade, a sage green dress layered atop a tight silk button up shirt and a white flouncy underskirt. She had more clothing in a basket next to her, presumably to wash.

Song poured from her lips like honey, her face serene as she unknowingly preformed for her audience of one.

"A young man walked through the forest With his quiver and hunting bow He heard a young girl singing And followed the sound below There he found the maiden Who lives in the willow He called to her as she listened From a ring of toadstools red Come with me, my maiden Come from thy willow bed' She looked at him serenely And only shook her head"

you were mesmerizing. You were a faerie.

You guys don't understand, this is BARELY THE BEGINNING 😭 please comment if you want more, really I'd love the feedback.

Check the comments for extra info!

[bonefall]

why does it matter to skystar that mapleshade tried killing reedshine? is it because she didn’t “wrong” her like the others?

Basically yeah. At that point it's just a pregnant woman she's trying to murder. That's not revenge that's just spite, in his eyes.

What he liked about the murders of Ravenwing and Frecklewish was that it was retribution. They wronged her, and she got back at them. He LOVES that kind of drama. He would be up in StarClan cheering her on until she got to Reedshine, and then he'd be frustrated.

[hotfuss]

the Killers at park live, moscow 2013 [HQ]

[empresskadia]

Hear me out:

If you're dating a Spartan, they're more than likely used to you as a member of active military, right? They're so used to you being a soldier that they tend to forget that before them, before the war, you were someone else. Like, Linda finding out you were a pianist, or Kelly finding out you were a gardener, or Naomi finding out you were in art school. Something like that.

OKAY I'M HAVING A FANGIRL MOMENT BECAUSE THE CHARACTER I HAVE IN MY HEAD WITH NAOMI IS AN ARTIST AND YOU READ MY MIND AND I'M SCREAMING

anyways-

I'm excited you brought this up and this whole prompt, because the Spartans would be more used to a more active military partner, whether it's being a Marine, ODST, a Spartan-IV, Scientist, Engineer, etc. They used to you fighting in a war, Spartans are antisocial by nature, so they most likely wouldn't hang out with your friends or other teammates, and most other branches of the Military view Spartans in awe, so they most likely never see you in a "normal" environment until way later on.

I'm sure they know you have hobbies, they've heard you talk about them and the Spartans delight in it for you but they've never seen you doing them. Most of the Spartans probably never thought of who their partner was before them.

So they are always pleasantly surprised to find out new things about their S/o, like, Linda would be scouting the ship looking for her partner after a mission, more likely than not, she's never heard someone play the piano before in person, sure, Deja played them music as children but Linda had never seen someone play in-person before, she didn't even know the Infinity had a piano. Imagine her surprise when she enters the empty bar and finds her partner lost in their own world playing a random song that might have significance to them. When you finish the song, she wants to hear it again, scaring you half to death when she silently appears at your side, "What song was that? Will you play it again for me?"

Or, Kelly going for a run around the Infinity's memorial park one early morning, say, maybe after breakfast, she knew you had plans after eating with Blue team. She respects her partner's space, choosing not to pry and going on with her business, of course, Kelly can spot her partner a mile away, it's second nature for her at this point. So when she sees you digging in the ground with flower pots all around, she goes to investigate. Her shadow towers over your hunch-over form and you just give her a smile over your shoulder before going back to business. Kelly observes for a while, remembering a conversation in which her partner said something about growing a garden again. "Is this what you mean by 'green thumb'? I don't think these flowers grow tomatoes."

Or, one night, Naomi finds you, Mal, Vaz, Dev, and Phillips, all slightly intoxicated in the staff room, chatting away about life before entering the military while her partner is tapping away at a datapad with a stylus. She's seen you use it before, assuming you were working on reports or reading in-time information. Naomi is about ready to drag her partner away before you've had too much when you start talking about a boarding school on earth that your parents sent you to before the war started, an art academy. Dev leans over, and gaps at the datapad before ripping it out of your hands to show the table and Naomi has to blink before she registers the sketches. Most of them were of...her? Different angles, her expressions that she often shows to you, some were even in armor and you had gotten all the pieces drawn correctly. There was one of BB, and the whole crew, another one of a previous unit you've served in and the last one was her laughing with stars and hearts drawn around her, the words 'the love of my life." written above her head.

I can even assume that John's heard his partner hum melodies, never a full song but humming to yourself while working on a project or even getting ready for bed. He's never questioned it, it's something you always did, he's aware some of the tunes you hum are from your grandmother. What he didn't expect was to return from a mission and being unable to find his S/o for a while until Roland directed him to the Infinity's bar, saying the Spartan-IVs convinced you to perform. It's your voice he's aware of first before seeing his partner on the small stage, singing away like nothing else mattered around you. John isn't surprised when you notice him right away after giving a bow as the room fills with cheers and 'encores'. You both slip away from the area knowing this wasn't John's crowd to be around. "I didn't know that was a song. Or that you sang."

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road was such a beautifully written series ceilidh, thank you so so much for writing something so gorgeous and sharing it with us!!

every single time i got an email from ao3 that you updated the series i would get so so excited because reader and john's story had me hooked from the get go. it was one of those fics that made me fall in love with reading fanfiction and even just reading all over again, because it was so beautifully set up and i was so invested in seeing where reader's story went!!!

sending you all the flowers in the world (hypoallergenic if you'd prefer) and a thousand hand folded origami stars.

thank u so much bb 😭❤️💝 please don’t make me cry because I will start blubbering like the little crybaby I am 😫

thank you so much for reading my fic and being so kind!!!!

[soleilnomoon]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･titled — “lady(bug) killer.”

9k words (shh i know i know), fem reader, nsfw, 18+ mdni; angst city, there’s fluff somewhere somehow i think, smut obviously; shanks is a bully and an ass but that’s why we love him, reader has no self-preservation (when has she ever lbr); feat. cute stuff like making out, alcohol, some smoking, oral (f receiving), biting, reader being shameless; shanks is mean when he’s jealous and reader is equally as ridiculous, also benn beckman, yasopp, and lucky roux make a tiny cameo. anyway this was 1000% self-indulgent, but idc.

this is for @strawhatsoraya, and even though it’s *calculates* 7? months late ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ lmaooo i finished bb, a labor of love for u because i’m absurd and u enable me. don’t blame me for nothin, i did what i could!!! (if u see typos/grammatical errors no u didn’t.)

DELUSION X IS X INEVITABLE

the seas are not, and never have been, kind — nor are they patient. weakness is rarely tolerated, so to combat that, to give yourself some semblance of strength, you tell yourself stories in the hopes of extracting a bit of courage. there’s one in particular that you like to tell yourself when things get to be a little too much.

it’s about the impossible love between the sun and the moon — the two seemingly trapped in an endless cycle of cat and mouse, chasing one another across the skies for eternity.

golden-hued, dazzling, brilliant; a deity above all others with a kingdom as expansive as its reach — grand and all encompassing. the sun is a powerful, overwhelming force of nature, able to disrupt the earth as he sees fit, his heat infiltrating any crevice it can find with each new day. the stars serve as reluctant guides, leaving behind crumbs for the sun to follow. they’re much too quick, twinkle out of sight, and the moon is nowhere to be seen. she’s a shadow, a mirage, an entity that’s completely out of the sun’s reach no matter what he does.

the moon, in contrast, is serene when in rest, shimmering proudly in the dark sky — illuminating the seas for wayward sailors, dreams, and the like. calm, the epitome of grace, yet unyielding; forever dictating the tides as she sees fit. there’s a sharpness to her beauty; it’s cold and unapproachable — a single rare flower that blooms nightly in the sky, her spores a sweet poison that serves to ensnare unsuspecting stargazers, adding yet another devoted follower to her massive collection. a hopeless romantic deep down, admiring the blazing trail that the sun leaves behind. fear forces the moon to hesitate, never to embrace the sun’s brilliance and warmth.

despite being the biggest star hanging in the sky, the sun remains out of the moon’s reach; and despite priding herself on her uncanny ability to pluck the truth from anyone, she conveniently evades revealing her own dark truths.

the ocean is a reluctant playground, her mirror of truth; if the moon looks hard enough, she can see the golden light from the sun touching the water. if she hangs back, then maybe she might be able to grab onto some of that warmth. she’s always so cold. it’s evident in how she approaches life. her rage is frigid, hidden, forbidden from ever coming out; a stated beauty from afar, breathtaking and life changing up close.

everyone is too afraid to approach her; no one wants to risk her wrath — except the sun.

where the sun chases away his own shadows, the moon welcomes them. there’s poetry in the dance they do; a ballet in several parts — steps light and well-rehearsed, as the stars play a sweet, melancholic melody. it’s indescribable; a work of art fit to inspire the masses.

ascending along the expansive sky, the sun begins his rhythmic march, reveling in the sparkling remnants of light that moon has left behind. it’s always been said that the sun lusts after the moon, but it’s not quite as simple as that. the moon leads the dance — measured, practiced, perfect; while the sun clumsily follows along, sure-footed, and honest. a never-ending cycle of what ifs and maybes; a love affair that is in a deadly, hypnotic loop.

yours is a story about love, about life, and about losing bits of yourself in someone else.

shanks has always been fond of the sun, of its power, its size, and its impact on life; he’s always reached his arms out every morning, soaking up as much of the warmth and heat as he can, forever rejuvenated by its light. you have always favored the moon — its eerie silence, the way life seems to hold its breath for it, how you can gaze at it without consequence.

both of you are fueled by the whims of their love — the former a frenetic storm, hounding islands and ships, dangerous when provoked; the latter a frozen lake, one step and the ice cracks on the shallow surface, pulling bright-eyed victims deep under, freezing them from head to toe.

in stories of antiquity, the two never truly meet, but somehow in this story, you and shanks experience what may be considered the most difficult sort of love to bear. potentially ill-fated and destined to fail, you delude yourself into thinking that you can have the entirety of his heart and not suffer any consequences. there’s no greater love than the one you desperately want to attain and can’t; it’s an addicting cycle that neither of you want to break.

PASSION X NOT X PAIN

from your father you learn obstinance; it’s carefully woven into your daily routines, each stitch tighter than the last, the thread unbelievably strong even as it’s pulled taut underneath your skin. by the time it reaches your bones, you’re already well into adulthood, fragility and naivety carelessly discarded, the remains intentionally desiccated, crumbling underneath your feet as you navigate through life. a never-ending labyrinth of torment and desire, a hunger for the unknown gnawing continuously in the pit of your stomach.

from your mother you learn humility; a tradition, she tells you, but adds as an afterthought: an eternal obligation. it sits on your shoulders, weighing you down, making you question every decision and thought. you never say what you truly mean, never ask for the things you want; resentment lines the crevices of your teeth, dictating your tone and choice of words. your tongue a maestro, pushing out each phrase with purpose; every word pinpricks your skin — a dull, cumbersome pain chipping away at your sanity.

you become obsessed with spontaneity, rejecting routines, and deviating from the norm. they can never keep you indoors long enough; you’re usually climbing something, running somewhere — enticed by the possibility of adventure. you leave your hometown to travel across the grand line, staying on various islands for months at a time — to learn about regional dishes and cultivate your skills.

your heart, unfortunately, has always been a flighty thing — falling in and out of love, leading you down a treacherous path, one that leaves a deep scar you can’t seem to heal no matter what you do. still, you fortify yourself any way you can; it’s not permanent, but it does the job somewhat effectively.

like clockwork, you find yourself in the middle of a busy street, perusing the market. you look over a round, shiny apple before buying a few to take home. unbeknownst to you, your day will quickly derail, bringing about impossibly rash decisions on your part.

as usual, it takes forever to dock the ship; he doesn’t even bother yelling t the new recruits, because he’s trying to ignore the hangover that’s kicking his ass right now. yasopp is cackling off to his right, tears flowing freely as he recants drunken tales from last night. he’d love to join his friend in all that revelry, but there’s a pounding in his head that won’t quite go away.

shanks downs another cool glass of water before loudly announcing that they need to find provisions before heading to their next destination.

the island isn’t hard to navigate, so they wander until they reach the lively town. it’s when you’re fussing with a vendor over the outrageous price for a small bottle of seasoning, that shanks notices you for the first time. as someone who takes pride in swallowing a great deal of pain without complaint, he’s finding it very difficult to not rub his chest — to somehow calm down that foolish heart of his.

it’s doing things it’s never done before; beating much too loudly, making his thoughts scatter around — it’s bothersome and he doubts he has time to deal with it. he almost voices that very sentiment out loud, but is distracted by your smile, which makes him take another step forward. then you’re laughing, another ordeal for him to suffer through — your voice melodic and hypnotizing.

shanks rubs his eyes repeatedly, blinking away any residual fatigue; surely it’s the fault of the bourbon they drank, because he must be dreaming. it wouldn’t be the first time he’s mistaken a dream for reality, although this strangely feels real to him. he’s not sure if it’s the shape of your jaw, or the roundness of your cheeks, but there’s something wholly familiar about you. he frowns at that, brings his hand to his chest to rub the ache away. it’s beckman who catches up with him first, dark eyes landing on shanks for a moment before following his line of sight.

throat dry, head a little fuzzy, shanks asks, “do you see her?”

the question is absurd, but he has to know; and even though it takes a moment, beckman finally answers him. “yes,” he says, voice low but certain, “she’s real, captain.”

he has no need to shop for vegetables, but winds up at the same stall as you. if he wasn’t so damn obvious, you probably wouldn’t have said anything — except, he’s crowding your space a little too much; but when you turn to tell him off, you hesitate. there’s no reason for him to be that tall, no reason for his ruggedness to add to his overall attractiveness — enough to incite irritation, that makes your face burn and siphons all your logic. his voice is doubly offensive — deep, husky, and gravelly, touching parts of you that you don’t want to think about.

what starts as a friendly conversation — of him asking about local cuisine, of you giving him recommendations on dishes to try — somehow morphs into shanks teasing you as if he’s known you for much longer than ten minutes. you’re not normally this social, preferring to keep to your own so that you won’t be bothered by people in general. the townspeople are more than friendly, and a little too overwhelming to be around; yet you don’t mind talking to him and find that it’s nearly impossible to pull yourself away.

fear — of vulnerability and intimacy — threads itself around your fingers, makes your hands shake as you hold onto your bags.

eventually, you give in and grace him with your name. he says it a few times, mostly to himself and you dislike the way you stand there, listening to him — caught in a thick net, completely unaware that the fortress you’ve built over the years has completely fallen apart. a terrifying feat, you think; one that makes you want to run until your legs give out. intrigued by your stubbornness and insatiable curiosity, shanks decides to stay on the island a little longer. his crew doesn’t mind, they like the break. yasopp tries to pry for more information, but shanks simply says he wants to relax for a bit.

it doesn’t take long for them to chisel away at your reluctance, a friendship that buds and transforms quickly. against your better judgment, you grow fond of them — with their rowdiness and frank manner of speech, with their crude jokes and ability to turn any gathering into a large party. adventurers and treasure fiends, a group with monstrous strength, not the sort of people your parents would’ve expected you to hang around.

and maybe that’s why you hardly resist their charm — or, his charm, you should say. because that’s what it really is, much to your disapproval.

you offer to cook for them one night, and after the first bite shanks asks you to join his crew. your initial refusal is met with a frown on his part; he insists that you join them — one can never have too many chefs on board, and lucky roux has already taken a liking to you. still, you refuse; and when shanks asks you the following morning, you refuse again.

there’s no real reason why you keep saying no. it’s mostly because you like seeing how frustrated he gets, where he huffs about it all damn day, claiming you’ve broken his heart for the fiftieth time that week. the best part is how his crew mates make fun of him for being rejected by you again.

he takes it all in stride, though — laughing along with everyone else, ordering another round of drinks. as wary as the townspeople were by shanks’ presence initially, they’ve come to appreciate his generous patronage. it’s not often that pirates settle in a specific area for longer than a few days, but shanks is determined not to leave without you. he’s not exactly sure why he feels compelled to take you along, and while a few of his crew mates have some sound theories as to why that is, he ignores them completely.

it's beckman who manages to convince you after eating a third lemon square; he’s impressed by your talent for creating delicate and delicious pastries, even more so by the fact that shanks to enjoy eating them more than he should.

“he doesn’t really care for sweets,” beckman says carefully, sipping his tea slowly, enjoying the warmth wafting from the hot drink.

you know better than to ask, but the question rolls off your tongue anyway. “who doesn’t?” you feign ignorance, fuss with a stray curl, tugging and playing with it while he eyes you critically.

the vice-captain reminds you that you can only travel so far along the grand line alone; and he’s right, you came to terms with that a while ago. it’s an opportunity for adventure, and a chance to hone your skills.

“fine,” you say, while crossing your arms, leaning forward on your chair. “how much?” not that you really care about the money, but they’re pirates — notorious ones, at that — you won’t risk your life sailing with them if the reward isn’t worth it.

a small smile works its way onto his lips as he motions for you to scoot closer. you oblige without hesitation but end up hopping out of your seat when he whispers the amount in your ear.

“that’s a lot of fucking money.” you almost don’t believe it, but beckman isn’t the childish sort, nor does he lie for the sake of lying. you swallow hard and don’t bother acting coy. “when do we leave?” it’s not exactly the sort of job you’d place on a resume, but you can’t say you aren’t excited to traverse across the ocean.

shanks offers more gold than necessary, but you’re not one to complain, nor do you care about bleeding a pirate dry of his stolen treasure. he decides to spend one final night on the island, so naturally his crew throws a large feast in celebration. you doubt you’ll ever get tired of their impromptu parties, or the raucous way they laugh and sing, voices carrying out into the sleepy streets. the energy is addictive and hard to escape; you soak it all up, allow it to loosen your bones. you laugh and drink with the others but keep your distance from a certain red-haired captain. you’re not sure how to be around him, especially now that you’ve accepted his invitation after fighting him for so long about it.

it’s completely by chance that you spot shanks near the bonfire; you think you’re being subtle when you watch him from afar, admiring the way his throat bobs when he tilts his head back to down a full glass of liquor. the fire emits a deep glow, one that extracts a memory from the back of your mind — oranges and yellows draping over him, an enigma that will always remain out of your reach no matter how hard you try.

the truth of it sits on your tongue — raw and distressing — so you down a shot of whiskey and maneuver through the crowd of people to find a place to sit and rest.

yassop and lucky roux tease shanks mercilessly throughout the day, so much that he ends up smoking more than he means to. a light haze clouds his rationality, and he mumbles under his breath, which only makes them laugh louder, pointing out his plight for all to hear. no matter how much he denies it, or how much he tells them that they’re full of shit, the story remains the same: boss has fallen in love. it’s annoying, to say the least. just because he feels calmer whenever you’re around, and just because his heart continues to beat louder — heavy, relentless, and unsettling — doesn’t mean that he’s fallen in love with you.

if anything, it means he needs to get off this damn island quickly. “it’s probably something in the water,” he tells himself. no need to stay long enough to carry it with him elsewhere.

a few hours later, nearly everyone is passed out, either from drinking or eating or both — and shanks, unfortunately, can’t seem to sleep. neither can you. he finds you walking alone on the beach, sandals in hand, humming something soft and familiar. before he can even make his presence known, you look over at him and a smile tugs on your lips. you’re not sure what compels you, but the sight of him standing there, watching you like you’re some sight to behold — and if anyone asked him at that exact moment, he would say that yes, you are — invites a small warmth to circle around your chest. an irresistible flame that grows hotter the closer he gets.

OBSESSED X & X IRRITABLE

what starts as subtle flirting rife with teasing jokes and lingering touches, turns into something frighteningly intense. shanks routinely teases you in front of everyone, and while you’re embarrassed by it sometimes, you actually like it. there’s a push and pull, where you also have him backed into a corner that he can’t escape from with his sanity intact.

shanks starts being more bold when he touches you, kissing you randomly in hallways when no one’s looking, his hand roaming down to your ass and squeezing it playfully. the rush makes everything worth it; he likes the way you push him away, and you like the way he chases you. if he knew that you’d fallen in love some time ago, he’d never let you live it down. his touches make your skin hot and your head fuzzy, leaving you light-headed and wanting for more. after a few months, though, he’s still given you no indication on whether this is a casual thing or something more.

you’re too afraid to ask at this point, always losing your nerve when he sweet talks you late at night. you swallow back your questions, but they pile up eventually, until you can’t take it anymore. after that stunt he pulled in that pub, he drunkenly tells yasopp to make up a shirt for you that says “angry when wet” on the front. your face burns, both in anger and in embarrassment when you receive the gift, and shanks laughs loudly when you throw the shirt at his face. he confesses that he forgot he even asked for yasopp to do that, which only makes him laugh harder.

in a fit of fury, you tell shanks that you refuse to have sex with him and that he has to keep his hands to himself. for a month, at least. he figures you’re all talk and only agrees to it because you’re so determined and cute when you’re angry like that. when the others find out about the ban, they ridicule their captain mercilessly. he tries to act unaffected, but something about the way you insist on seeing this ban through rubs him the wrong way.

it’s been twenty-two — no, twenty-three — days, and you’re barely keeping it together. shanks thinks it’s hilarious that you believe he’ll cave before you do; and you’re determined to make him suffer. now granted, you are to blame for the predicament you found yourself in just a month prior — even now, you still suffer from that embarrassment — when shanks fucked you in the back of that dingy pub.

they’ve all taken to calling you ladybug — bug, for short; something shanks thought up in the moment, spurned by yasopp’s laughter at the matter. and despite fighting against it initially, the nickname grows on you. shanks appears every bit as unaffected as he always does, still flirting with you whenever he can, but respecting your wishes all the same. regardless of that, he still finds ways to get under your skin. it’s your hope that holding out will make shanks realize that he wants you in a deeper way than just physical intimacy.

you should just let him go and move on, but you can’t. he always pulls you back, always finds a way to make you smile — the warmth from his presence is enough to burn you alive most days — and you find yourself wrapped up in him without realizing. incidentally, shanks also can’t let you go, and never intends to anyway. he’s a selfish creature by nature, not cognizant enough to recognize his own role in that.

on a sleepy morning, you take your time and carefully bake pastries for the crew. last night you promised them something tasty and sweet — your specialty, really — and they’ve given you room to work without interruption. as a chef for the red-hair pirates, you take pride in your work; in feeding the crew, in ensuring that they eat well-balanced meals that give them strength and energy. shanks has always been in awe of your talent — your hands are delicate and exact, skilled laborers that make brilliant works of art whenever you’re in the kitchen.

you’re humming a nameless tune to yourself, cutting up strawberries neatly, as another person silently invades your small sanctuary. while you wash your hands in the sink, shanks approaches you and a sudden awareness makes you freeze. his body barely touches yours, but he reaches over you to crab a cup out of the cabinet above your head. given the difference in your height, it always seems like he’s crowding you without trying. although in this instance, he’s intentionally doing so.

a groan rolls out of your mouth, frustration eating away at the remainder of your patience. you’ve been giving him short answers lately, barely looking at him — although, that isn’t exactly true; you’ve stolen more glances than you can count over the past month — so whenever he can, he finds ways to tease you mercilessly.

“oops,” his hand lowers so he can rinse out the cup, “didn’t mean to interrupt you, doll.”

teeth sinking into your bottom lip, you count to ten, breathe out of your nose and smile tightly. “uh huh,” his body is still much too close for your liking, “just make it fast.”

a sly grin, one that you can’t see, drifts onto his lips. “you know i can never turn down a quick fuck.”

you slap his hand, make him drop the cup into the sink, and spin around to face him. your face burns painfully, the flush a permanent fixture now that he’s moved on from light teasing, to full out being insufferable around you. “shanks, enough.” you shove his chest, much to his amusement, his eyes gleaming with mischief, but you can’t exactly look at him properly, can you? and when you manage to get over a bit of your embarrassment, manage to look up at him through your thick, dark lashes, you struck by his stupidly handsome face. despite his rugged exterior, you know there’s a gentleness that periodically comes out when the two of you are together.

an unexpected ache plagues your chest and you ignore it; but you miss touching his scars, miss kissing him and being kissed by him. he already smells like smoke and bourbon, a scent that you’ve come to covet over the past few weeks.

belatedly, shanks realizes that he miscalculated; your beauty still takes his breath away, especially when you’re this close to him. his eyes drift along your soft, round features, linger on your plump lips — where he’s suddenly overcome with the desire to trace your cupid’s bow with his fingers — and stare a little too hard at your neck that’s been blemish free for a while. a shame, really, as he likes when your neck shows proof of his affection for you. if he’s not careful, he’ll get sucked back into your orbit; as always, your brown eyes — intense, unyielding, a fusion of dulce de leche and tree bark — keep him rooted in place. your dark, curly hair continues to remind him of a storm that he desperately wants to navigate alone.

caught in a daze, he almost forgets that you’re mad at him, until you roll your eyes and push past him. he watches you languidly, completely smitten with you all over again, eyes transfixed on your retreating form — round ass and thick, curvy hips captivating him entirely.

you stomp away and leave the pastries to their own devices, reeling over the fact that shanks had the audacity to say that to you. but as you keep walking, the brisk morning air whipping around you, you realize you’re not upset because he said it. you’re upset because he didn’t actually try to fuck you in the kitchen.

a shame, you know, but you can’t help the thought.

it’s becoming more and more apparent now that you might be the only one suffering from this ban. you decide you need a better plan, one that is strong enough to withstand shanks’ careless attitude, one that might just push him to the edge.

a childish impulse strikes you, and you opt to give him the silent treatment, which only further amuses him. he watches you lazily, grinning each time you turn your nose up and stomp past him. you make it so easy he doesn’t even have to try riling you up. you ignoring him isn’t much of a big deal — so he tells himself — but when he sees just how friendly the crew is with you, something sinister builds inside the pit of his abdomen and works its way up to his chest. when you head back to finish working in the kitchen, he tells his crew that he’s implementing a new rule.

“no one,” he says, after gathering everyone else, surveying his crew mates critically, eyes particularly landing on yasopp and benn beckman, “touches ladybug. understood?”

they all agree, although beckman, lucky roux, and yasopp pull him aside to ask what this new rule is all about. shanks being shanks, playfully waves them off and starts drinking instead. beckman exchanges wary glances with the others, but they don’t push the issue. every time you try to get closer to someone — whether it’s a crew mate, or an overly friendly resident of a sea faring town — he finds a way to sabotage, laughing as you eye him angrily, hands balled into small fists, which only makes him laugh more.

THREE’S X A X CROWD

part of your duties is to accompany the crew as they go into town to scope out any local fruits and vegetables that you want to try. you like talking with the townspeople, like getting their insight on their regional dishes. you just live for the thrill of creating new, exciting meals and want your crew mates to feel the love that you pour into everything you make for them.

on a particular island, the ship is docked far enough away to not attract too much attention. there aren’t any major navy bases nearby, but one can’t be too careful in the new world, can they? there’s a festival in town, one that they keep advertising for. you catch wind and want to go, but shanks decrees that only a portion of the crew is allowed to disembark, while the others stand by on the ship. too many pirates traversing through the island will set off alarms; thankfully, the island is partial to the patronage of pirates, so they aren’t too upset that shanks’ crew has docked there.

somehow, you’re part of the group designated to stay on the ship, much to your annoyance. you try to plead with beckman, even go as far as pouting your lips, but he doesn’t budge. “captain’s orders,” which seems to be the norm these days. and when he sees the way your shoulders drop, he says, a little quietly, “sorry bug.” you know they’re just going to drink and act foolish on land, so you wait and take your time dressing up.  you have an actual reason for wanting to go into town; you need ingredients and don’t trust the others to shop properly for you, so you take matters into your own hands.

no one dares to stop you as you make your way off the ship; you tell the others you’ll be right back, and of course they believe you — why would you lie to them?

and you’re not lying, per se, you do want to get ingredients — although that isn’t your primary focus at the moment.

the festival is loud and seemingly merry with alcohol and food everywhere. thankfully the music makes the shitty alcohol taste better. shanks sits at a large table with the others, drinking, smoking, laughing as various people fawn over him and feed him cut up pieces of fruit. flirtatious by nature, he doesn’t even blink when they allow their delicate fingers to linger on his lips, or when they whisper things in his ear, or when they take turns to perch themselves on his lap.

for some reason, despite knowing that he should, he isn’t exactly stopping their advances.

guilt eats away at his crew mates at the sight of shanks on his usual path of self-destruction; yasopp tries to get him to see reason, beckman too, but he waves them off, saying he can do as he pleases. which only tells him that he’s still annoyed about you not talking to him properly these days. and, despite him not openly saying it, he’s suffering too.

you have fun watching the fireworks for a while, mesmerized by the loud explosions of color decorating the sky; before long, you find yourself in the middle of all the festivities, humming to yourself as you scope out the stalls. you get swept up into a small crowd of people and get turned around when you slip away. as you try to catch your bearings, you hear a familiar laugh and, on instinct, follow the sound of his voice.

while standing off to the side, you watch shanks and the others, heart beating far too loud for comfort. your hands ball into fists all over again, and you sink your nails into your palms when another woman drapes herself over shanks, giddy and tipsy, blushing every time he smiles her way. you know he’s just doing this because he’s pissed off at you, and rather than get sad, you decide to head to the pub and drink.

three drinks later, you saunter back out into the night and join the festival. you enjoy the way the music thrums underneath your skin, the beat thumping in your veins; a cool breeze travels nearby, making you feel light-headed. you forgot how freeing it is to be on your own — without a group of people to worry about, and a selfish captain who tramples over your heart and feelings repeatedly with his blasé attitude. maybe it would be better to just leave? but, the more you think about it, the more your head hurts, so you decide you’d rather enjoy yourself for a bit before heading back to the ship.

the alcohol makes you bolder than usual, and you’re all smiles with flushed cheeks when the vice-captain runs into you on his way to get more food. an incredibly foolish, petty idea crawls into your mind — it barely sits long enough before you act impulsively again.

“what are you doing here, bug?”

you simply shrug, as if you’ve embarked on an innocent expedition and didn’t expect to see him. beckman doesn’t buy the act one bit and pulls you into a nearby alley to talk with you privately. sighing loudly, he fixes you with a steely glare. “you’re suppose to be on the ship,” he says carefully, “d’you know how much trouble you’ll be in if shanks sees you here?” there’s no reason for him to tell you that, but you can’t fault him for trying to be nice. still, the idea of shanks thinking he can just dictate how you live your life, pushes you closer to the edge with your sanity barely intact.

and before you can stop yourself, you blurt out, “i am not a child,” you say angrily; your annoyance has reached the point of no return, so you let the irritation flow freely and allow it to fuel your pettiness. beckman pauses for a moment before chuckling darkly, shaking his head at your antics. from the determination on your face, and the way you don’t seem to want to budge on the issue, he can understand why shanks is so smitten with you — in fact, everyone on their crew understands — so he relents.

“fine, i’ll accompany you, then.”

you hadn’t expected him to offer, and you feel the tension leave your body slowly. maybe you were overreacting a bit, and maybe you just need to relax and enjoy the night like everyone else. you visit several stalls and shop around for a bit; you like the vice-captain’s company as he doesn’t say much, nor does he complain when you make him try various sweets to see which ones you should recreate. and while you might not intend to, you can’t help but flirt with him a little — touching his arm, laughing at his dry humor, standing much closer than necessary. beckman knows what you’re doing, but he doesn’t stop you; maybe shanks will get his act together if he thinks he has competition. you doubt he will, but it’s always worth a try, right?

DIAMOND X IN THE X ROUGH

after a while, the merriment feels stale; shanks’ laughter is hollow, forced, and unbecoming. and while on the surface it looks like he’s soaking up all the attention that’s being given to him, he’s not happy about it at all. a small frown works its way onto his lips as he tries to work out the cause of his unhappiness, completely ignoring his role in all of this. he’s not sure what’s missing — or, rather, he’s sure, but he just doesn’t want to say it out loud. that would make it real, and while he doesn’t want to make a habit out of it, shanks has been lying to himself for some time now. he knows that if he’d let you come with them, he’d be having much more fun — that thought alone makes him reconsider how he’s handled everything between you two.

the universe, it seems, has a cruel sense of humor. as his thoughts continue to berate him, he spots you walking with beckman. he narrows his eyes at you both but offers a smile — one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes — once you approach the table.

jaw clenched, shanks manages to greet you without fail. “hey there, lovebug.” there’s tension in his shoulders, and that amiable demeanor of his is shed, which makes the women near him a little reluctant as they squirm awkwardly in their seats. “thought i told you to stay on the ship,” he says lightly, as if this is the most casual conversation in the world. beckman sighs, knowing that shanks will most likely read into the situation incorrectly; but before he can explain himself, he sits back down in his seat and pours himself a drink.

“you don’t own me,” you say with a slight huff, glancing over at shanks from the corners of your eyes, “i’m allowed to go where i please.”

shanks almost laughs at that, but keeps it inside; he wants to tell you that you’re wrong, but he knows that this isn’t the right time or place for that sort of discussion. lucky roux offers to make some room for you, but you smile sweetly and announce that there’s no need. they all look at you, confused and a little intrigued, and before lucky roux insists again, you say, “i have a seat already.”

without warning, you gently perch your round ass on top of beckman’s lap, effectively silencing the group around you. it suddenly feels as if time has slowed down for shanks, who shifts in his chair as he watches you and beckman.

the vice-captain sighs again and playfully pinches your side, a move that does not go unnoticed by shanks, of course. you let out a small shriek, cheeks burning, and swat his hand before scooting up higher on his lap. the move alone nearly sends shanks and beckman into an early grave, for different reasons, obviously. meanwhile you’re smiling like a cat — mischievous and proud, as if you’ve cornered your prey and you’re ready to pounce.

you look so damn smug and shanks wants to fuck your mouth for all of that insolence.

beckman holds onto your hip as you cross your legs, revealing the deep slit in your skirt. your legs are on display, catching the eyes of everyone at the table and the random party goers passing by. shanks clenches his jaw so tightly, it’s a miracle he hasn’t cracked his teeth. he knows that you’re provoking him into acting out, and while he doesn’t want to feed into it, his jealousy knows no bounds right now. especially since he knows you’re not wearing any panties — it’s why you chose that particular skirt.

you really only wanted to tease shanks a little, so you’re on cloud-nine when you notice how bothered he is over your little act.

it takes an inordinate amount of strength, on shanks’ part, to not split beckman’s face in two for his complicit behavior. he’s being unfair, he knows that — but he doesn’t really care. yasopp and lucky roux try to diffuse the situation with lighthearted banter and jokes — they also tell their guests to leave, because knowing shanks this might not end well.

beckman leans forward, lips ghosting along the shell of your ear, making your body warmer than necessary. “settle down, bug, we don’t want to cause a scene, do we?” you shake your head at that and swallow back whatever complaints you want to say when you see the hardened look on shanks’ face. you’ve only ever seen him that serious when his anger reaches a certain point — so you know you’ve fucked up pretty badly. you have the decency to act ashamed as you slide off beckman’s lap and grab your bags. you should probably say something to shanks, but you don’t bother looking back at him and instead head back to the ship.

you’re absolutely furious right now and so is shanks.

beckman rubs the back of his neck before leaning forward. “i told you, captain,” he keeps his tone friendly, yet firm, “if you’re not careful, one of us will take bug away.” at that, shanks casts a sharp glance at the other crew members seated at the table — the intensity behind his gaze forces them to turn away and look at other things. shanks motions for one of them to slide the bottle of vodka his way, and beckman groans audibly.

“not again, shanks, let—”

as shanks isn’t in a negotiating mood, he cuts his first mate off quickly — maliciously, even — with  venom sifting along his tongue, the layer thick enough he almost chokes on it. his voice is much too hoarse, but he spits out, “drink.”

it’s not a game that the red-hair pirates ever like to play with shanks, and he knows it; which is why he keeps insisting, and why his best friend keeps refusing. shanks’ anger reaches a tipping point; it transforms into a fire that steadily burns along the back of his neck, hot enough to make impulsive thoughts gather around him. the idea of extinguishing it never crosses his mind, although he knows that eventually he’ll need to face it head-on. and as he grips the bottle of alcohol tightly, a sharp moment of clarity hits him.

it’s by chance that he swallows it back, not wanting to make this even messier than it already is.

beckman shifts in his seat, a disapproving frown settling comfortably on his face. “it won’t be fair, i’m practically drunk already.”

“spare me the bullshit,” shanks says with a smile that serves as a small warning; he places a glass in front of beckman. “drink.” beckman pinches the space bridge of his nose and exhales a bit of his irritation. but when he picks up the glass, he recoils from the strong scent.

“this is practically rubbing alcohol.”

shanks only hums while shrugging lazily, before knocking back the drink; the burn revitalizes him, the pain reminds him that he’s alive. in a game of endurance, shanks always comes out on top. so it’s no wonder that beckman taps out after two shots.

“i value my liver, unlike you.”

this time, shanks’ laughter is genuine; he hops out of his chair and claps a hand on beckman’s back. “you’re forgiven,” he says when he leans down. as an afterthought, he adds, “this time.”

you’ve done a good job derailing his night — not that he can really blame you, he was being absolutely shameless in the worse way — so he’s decided he’s had enough. somehow, he’s rationalized that you’re the only childish and ridiculous person in this situation because he intends on stamping that attitude out.

SUN X STARS X MOON

you peruse shanks’ room while sipping from the bottle of rum you found. although you count tonight as a small victory against shanks, you didn’t think he’d get that mad. was all the teasing worth it, in the end? you leave the rum on the nightstand before climbing onto his bed and enjoy the softness of the mattress. maybe you overreacted, or maybe it’s all his fault. the guilt sits with you, until shanks enters his room.

“the hell are you doing back so soon?”

it’s not a proper greeting in the least, but you’re not exactly ready to deal with him just yet. but, since he’s already here, you might as well have it out. shanks closes the door and leans against it, partially obscured in the shadows as the moon bathes you in its light through the window.

“in case you’ve forgotten, this is my room and that’s my bed that you’re lounging comfortably on.”

he’s got you there. you roll your eyes in response, which draws out a chuckle from him once he pushes away from the door and goes to sit near you on the bed.

your emotions swell inside of you and become too heavy for you to keep hidden. “fine, whatever, i’ll leave.” you hop off the bed but then turn around. “you’re an asshole, you know that? you string me along for months and then anytime anyone else wants to talk to me you suddenly intervene.” the words tumble out of your mouth fluidly, you’re surprised your tongue could keep up. blinking back tears — because you refuse let him see you this vulnerable. “you piss me off so much, i… can’t do this anymore.”

it’s the first time that you’ve properly articulated how you’ve felt about this whole stupid situation. you feel a bit lighter but then sense of dread overcomes you, gnaws at your stomach — twisting and creating knots that make you want to run away forever. shanks takes a moment and mulls over your words, but his long silence is all the confirmation you need. you’re halfway to the door when he calls out to you.

“wait, come here.”

against your better judgment, you turn around and head back to his side. he sits on the edge of the bed, pulls you in between his legs, and warms an arm around you. “i hear you, bug, i really do.”

this is the first time he’s ever willingly said anything to make him vulnerable like that, so you relent, soften in his hold, allow your shattered heart to repair itself piece by piece. you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him softly. he’s normally much hastier with you — being a pirate captain, he barely has time to himself, so whenever he does get a moment to touch you, he’s always in a rush.

but tonight — the moon full and pink, hanging heavy in the sky, stars shimmering brilliantly around it — he opts to slow down. shanks takes his time memorizing the shape of your lips, tongue gently caressing yours as you sigh against his lips. he kisses you like he has all the time in the world, like he’s afraid you’ll leave him if he doesn’t. you’re certainly in no hurry to finish anytime soon. by the time you’re done kissing, you’re a little breathless and can barely hold it together. shanks, unsurprisingly, is in a similar predicament, as his cock hasn’t given him a day of peace since your ban started.

but he decides to let go and mumbles, “thirty days is a long fucking time,” and you laugh, surprised at his words.

you climb onto the bed with him, laughing as he drops playful kisses along your neck, and straddle him once he lies down on his back. you rub your ass against his stiff length, forcing him to groan audibly. he’s always more vocal when he’s tipsy, and the rum has you feeling bolder as the minutes pass by. before you can do it again, shanks slaps your ass hard and you let out an involuntary shriek.

he laughs at you, laughs at the way you’re suddenly acting demure, as if you weren’t the one who started this. “i thought you didn’t want anyone to hear you?” he gives you a knowing look and a sly smile crawls onto his face. heat travels along your skin, making your cheeks burn in the worst way; you place a hand over his mouth on impulse.

“shut up, what is wrong with you?”

you hate the way you’re suddenly embarrassed about all of this. shanks, however, takes it all in stride, laughing behind your hand and mumbling something unintelligible against your palm. he knows he needs to act quickly before she makes him cum in his pants without trying. so when you pull your hand back, he says, “come on, put your pretty pussy on my mouth.” you stare at him wide-eyed, but he doesn’t relent. you mumble something about possibly being too heavy, which makes him laugh at your ridiculous excuse.

“how many times do i need to show you?” his strength, he means.

before he can do anything too rash, you pull your skirt up and position yourself over his face, pussy already slick with your arousal. shanks runs his tongue along your folds, slipping it inside to give you a firm lick; he takes his time to eat you out, his pace tortuous but electrifying. you can barely keep quiet and moan louder than you mean to as you shamelessly ride his face. holding onto the headboard, a whirlwind whips about inside of your lower abdomen as he slurps your pussy sloppily. he pulls you closer, and your arousal drips down his lips and onto his chin. your pussy is always so eager for him, so naturally he wants to treat her right.

you lose a bit of your sanity when his tongue slips inside your hole, thrusting in and out, your whimpers and moans circling around him — the best sort of lullaby he could ask for. he flicks his tongue against your clit and you buck your hips, feverishly grinding your pussy on his tongue. he likes it when you let go like this — when you’re uncaring and free. you place so many barriers in front of your own happiness, so he’s determined to knock them all down while he can. you know it’s reckless to give in to your inhibitions like this, to fly this closely to this personified version of the sun. although, you do feel a surge of power, seeing him underneath you like that, in between your thick thighs.

if shanks is apollo, then you are a nymph with ties to the moon and the sea.

it’s when shanks swirls his tongue around your clit, mercilessly stroking it, sending tiny jolts through your thighs, making you tremble above him. the orgasm is transformative — you have tears in your eyes as you whimper pathetically, your pussy puffy and sensitive; but he doesn’t care. he licks your arousal off his lips, thinking you look divine and goddess-like in the interim following your orgasm.

time slows for you both, and maybe you’re imaging it, but your heartbeat matches his once you climb off of him. of course, as usual, shanks is smug and proud of himself, but when you start taking off your clothes and tossing them onto the floor, he follows suit. pre-cum drips slowly from the tip of his cock, and when you rub your wet pussy up and down his length, you let out a breathy moan. shanks watches you with lowered eyes, inhaling sharply once you sink down onto his cock.

your pussy swallows his girth with a slow descent, and he’s losing whatever sliver of control he thinks he has over himself when it comes to you. when his cock hits a particular spot, you shudder and moan his name; he could cum from that alone, he realizes, and it shocks the hell out of him. in retaliation, shanks thrusts into you once, then twice, as you claw at his chest and cry out for more. your pace quickens as you bounce on his cock, thighs trembling as you try to keep strong; the orgasm weakened you, but rather than give in, you keep going, rolling your hips against him, hypnotizing him without completely meaning to. he won’t last much longer at this rate, which is completely your fault, he reasons.

you ride him as long as you can, before frowning and slowing down. shanks looks at you slyly, unable to stop teasing you. “need some help?”

it’s your pride that doesn’t want you to ask for help, but you know that if you don’t, shanks will edge you until you’re on your knees in tears. “please.” if he wasn’t already teetering on the edge, your desperation would make him tease you more. he rolls so that he’s on top of you and leans forward to place kisses along your jaw and neck, loving how smooth and soft your skin is. because he’s obnoxious, he sucks and bites, leaving behind bruising marks on your neck and chest. he’s burning you alive, but you want more.

you drape your leg over his shoulder, and he kisses the inside of your thigh before flicking his tongue against your skin, enjoying the way you squirm underneath him, your heart beating much too fast in your chest, making you think seemingly impossible things. shanks slips his cock back inside of you, burying it completely, letting out a shaky breath at the way your plush walls suffocate him. the angle makes you buck your hips off the bed; he laughs darkly at your enthusiasm, but doesn’t move. the frustration alone could kill you; you want him to fuck you hard enough to shake your doubts, to combat all the warmth that keeps sliding through the cracks around your heart.

he moves his hips at his own leisure, giving you broad, powerful strokes — hard enough, that his balls slap against you, pussy squelching as he powers into you repeatedly. you should be embarrassed from the sounds alone — your pussy is wet enough for him to drown, but thankfully he’s got enough stamina to handle it.

each time his cock sinks deeper into your pussy, he feels reborn; like the sea — tumultuous, dizzying, captivating, and greedy — you suck him back in each time he tries pulling out. eventually, you wrap your arms around your thighs and he feels like you’re squeezing the remnants of his soul out of him. shanks rocks his hips against yours, rough and determined, sweat gliding along his skin. when he moans your name, your heart expands faster than you thought it would. shanks keeps his hips closer to yours, giving you short, quick thrusts, fucking you to remind you that he has no intention of letting you go. his breath is warm against your skin and you kiss him again, giving him ardent, sloppy tongue kisses that do nothing to calm you down. he swallows your moans as another orgasm grips you by the throat and nearly claims your life.

your pussy clenches around him tightly, so he takes that as a challenge and fucks you harder, giving you brutal, punishing strokes — frenetic and dizzying, making your mind spin too fast for you to keep up.

“shanks, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

whatever else you say after that is lost on you, incoherent babbling that makes him laugh at you again. it’s out of adoration, you know it is, even if he won’t openly say it. shanks e works you through your orgasm, hips jerking against yours, before his own pushes him completely over the edge. after giving you a few lazy thrusts, he cums inside of you, messy but satisfying. shanks slows down and tries to catch his breath, as you push your curls away from your face. he doesn’t leave your side after he pulls out, instead he pulls you close to him, his hand rubbing up and down your back, his subsequent kisses intense and possessive.

you don’t exactly know what will happen tomorrow, but for now you’ll cherish this moment and commit it to memory. with everything that’s happened, he doesn’t want to see you in the arms of another, and you don’t want to keep pushing him away. you’re sure something’s shifted fundamentally between you two, especially when you lay on top of him and listen to the steady, powerful beats of his heart. you suppose you can give him a little leeway, but you won’t tell him that right away. there’s a warmth that cloaks itself all over you, keeping you moored to him for the rest of the night; he enjoys the silence that accompanies your presence, and decides that he’s going to keep you for as long as he can.

[dem-obscure-imagines]

I Know the End | Vol. 2

I Know the End

Poe Dameron x Reader

Fandom: Star Wars

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

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

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

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

Word Count: 82.7k total (Split into four approximately 20k chunks)

Reader Is: 24, a Jedi, a Princess, has butterfly wings

Vol 1. | Vol 2. | Vol 3. | Vol 4.

Charms in Trees

A few small battles came and went. It was pilot stuff, mostly. They’d go, blow up a First Order transport, and be back in time for dinner. You always offered your help, but it was never needed. Still, you’d take any excuse to go see Poe, especially in that orange jumpsuit. You weren’t sure what it was about it, but you couldn’t get enough of it.

Sometimes you thought about taking it off of him.

It was a growing problem, your little unspoken thing. You’d forgotten just how all-encompassing a crush could be, especially when it was as attainable as the one sitting in front of you right now. You shared a base, lived just down the hall from him. Maker, you could feel that he felt the same way about you, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to shatter the normalcy.

Part of you wanted him to do it, finally take that leap of faith. You were patient. You could wait.

So you did.

Supplies began to dwindle, so you put on a utility uniform and went with some of the others to get more, lifting boxes with your arms instead of your mind. You helped Aspen and some of the other mechs with repairs. You spent time with Soren, both training and not. He was fun to hang out with, a funny guy. Had your sense of humor.

He told you that Laesynda had taken him out to Mariposas a few times when he was growing up. They’d leave flowers outside your pod, light a candle for a while and tell stories. It was haunting, almost, the funerals people held for you despite the fact that you weren’t dead.

Poe had been refurbishing an old X-Wing in his free time, which wasn’t very much to begin with. Leia had been upping his responsibilities, clearly bracing for something. Whether it was an attack or a defensive move, you couldn’t tell, but it had him stressed out.

On a beautiful afternoon, you looked for him in the hangar, armed with some baked goods. BB-8 chirped to welcome you and Poe kicked a shelf in shock, a toolbox teetering for a moment before it started its descent straight on top of him. You caught it in mid-air. The tools floated out of the box, your arm outstretched, heart racing. You set them all down gently, safely away from that pretty face of his.

“Didn’t mean to scare you, Dameron. Came here with a peace offering.”

“Peace offering?” He asked, rolling himself out from under the X-Wing. He peeled his work gloves off, dusting himself off as best as he could.

It looked pretty close to finished, you noted, looking it over. It would need a paint job, of course, but all of the major parts seemed to be accounted for.

“Finn said you’ve been in a mood lately…” You admitted. “Figured I’d bring you something to take your mind off it.”

He grinned, looking at the gift and then up at you. There it was, that infamous flyboy grin of his. “Sunshine, you’re all I need to take my mind off of it. But these are appreciated, too.”

Your heart fluttered at the nickname, handing him the container of sweets. “How’s it going in here? It looks good.”

“Thanks. Should be done soon.” He reported, busting into the box and biting into the sweet, berry-filled tart. “And then we’ll really be in business.”

“I’m sorry about your other one, by the way. I feel partially responsible for that.”

“It wasn’t my first. I knew it wouldn’t be my last.” He chuckled. “At least it got to go out with a bang.”

“And some flames, as well. It was on fire, last I saw it.”

“I am glad I got to take you for a spin in it, though. Think I could get you into this new one sometime?”

“I’m always down for a joyride.” You told him, eyes sparkling, words sincere. “Let me know when it’s done and I can try to fit you into my busy Jedi princess schedule.”

“You’re serious.”

“Always.” You nodded. “I’ve been wanting to spend more time with you.”

He pouted, gazing at you through those dark lashes, a little bit of fruit filling stuck to the corner of his stupidly pink lips. His tongue poked out to get it, but failed. “Wish I’d known that a week ago, I would have carved out more time.”

“Don’t worry about it, Commander.” You said, resting a hand against his chest. You reached up with the other hand, gently wiping corner of his lips. “I know you’re busy, too.”

He held your hand against his cheek, meeting your eyes. “Not too busy for you, your Highness.”

“Good.” You replied, thumb gently stroking his stubble.

He turned his face, pressing a soft kiss to the pad of your thumb. He met your eyes, gaze all innocent despite the way your cheeks were flushing. “Did you get it?”

“I did.” You nodded, making a speedy recovery. “Couldn’t let the best pilot in the Resistance walk around with jam on his face, could I?”

“Well, thank you, for the treats, for sparing my reputation, all of it.” His eyes scanned down your face as you finally removed your hand from the side of his. “You got anything going on today, (Y/N)?”

“Training.”

“Mmm. What time?”

“Soon.” You said, glancing at the watch around your wrist. It had been Luke’s, Leia had given it to you. “About fifteen minutes.”

“Could you move that panel for me real quick?” He asked, pointing up at the wing of his X-Wing, where a patch of machinery was exposed, a heavy piece of sheet metal leaning up against it.

“Oh yeah. Absolutely.”

He set his box of tarts on the workbench and rolled a ladder over to the X-Wing while you lifted the wing cover into place, arms out in front of you, the heavy piece floating in mid-air. He stopped and watched for a second, chuckling to himself.

“What?”

“Still getting used to it, is all.” He confessed, gently pushing the piece into place, where you held it until he started bolting it into place. “This thing weighs like two hundred pounds, and you just…You’re amazing. You know that?”

“You think that’s cool, you should see what I can do with some pretty hefty rocks.”

He glanced over his shoulder at you, the whir of his wrench stopping. “Oh I’m sure it’s phenomenal.”

“Anything else you need while I’m here?”

He shook his head. “I’m all set. Good luck with training. I hope you…you know, move things good.”

“I’ll certainly try.” You chuckled, turning and leaving the hangar.

Over and over in your head, you watched him turn his face and press the gentlest kiss to your thumb. You may have been the one with wings, but he was always the one that gave you butterflies.

***

Your final bits of training that day just so happened to be wing-centric. That morning, you’d flitted from tree to tree, hanging metal charms in the branches with lengths of twine. Rey had been given some other independent activities to work on, but it was clear you and Soren had some ground to cover, or…not cover, flight being the main objective here.

The two of you stared up at them. He looked at you for instructions, but you simply repeated what you’d already said.

“Go get them.”

“What, with the Force?”

“Nope. We’ve been using the Force for hours. Time to stretch those wings, little prince.”

He laughed. “I don’t think I’ve ever been up that high before.”

“That’s why I need you to be comfortable with it. If you go about it the right way, you can get some serious height. More, if you strengthen your wings with practice and exercise, and more yet if you use the Force for a little boost.”

“Could you…show me?”

You chuckled, hands on your hips, looking up, up, up at the charms. Yeah, that would definitely be a bit daunting if it was your first time flying. “Sure. I’m not gonna cut them down, though, because I’ll have to go up there and hang them all again.”

You spread your wings, shaking the accumulated dust and humidity collected on them from Ajan Kloss’ temperate ecosystem. And then you took off, running at a stump on the ground and using it as a springboard, wings carrying you to the first branch, where you hit the hanging charm sending it swinging.

You flipped from the first branch to the next, a few feet higher, touching that charm before heading to the next, and the next. You were like a dancer, graceful, fluid, gliding from branch to branch, using your limited flight to climb until you were near the top of the highest tree in your training grounds. You took a moment to look out at the camp, admire the Resistance crew bustling from building to building, doing their daily tasks to keep your movement up and running.

And then, doing one last somersault, you dove down, catching yourself with your wings and a burst of air, kicking up the leaves scattered on the forest floor.

Soren stared with wide eyes, Rey having joined him on the ground.

“And you expect me to do…that?”

“Not all of it.” You assured him. “That last jump is definitely something you’ll have to build towards. It’s a leap of faith. But that’s why I’m here, to catch you if the landing isn’t going so smooth.”

“Alright.” He nodded. “I can try.”

“Do or do not. There is no try.” You said, the words familiar, even if they weren’t yours. Sometimes the Force spoke through you; you could feel that this was one of those times. “Aim for five charms today. Any more than that and I’ll be impressed.”

Soren looked up at the first charm, on a low, sturdy branch, deceptively close to the ground. Like you did, he took off at a run, using his wings to get some height and land–somewhat shakily–on the branch, but he did it, youthful face breaking into a grin.

“There you go!” You encouraged, Rey smiling as she watched.

“It’s really great, what you’re doing with him.” Rey said, voice sincere. She reached for your hand and you gave it to her, just as you had that very first day you met. Long ago, you and Leia had shared a sisterhood, and now you shared that with Rey.

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

“I hope so. He’s…well, he’s my first Padawan. After you, of course, but you had a head start.”

“I wish you had been here when all of this started,” she confessed, squeezing your hand. “It would have been…nice to know I wasn’t alone in this.”

“You’re not alone.” You told her. “A long time ago…I was meditating, trying to find other Jedi out there. Luke and I thought we were alone, too. I found someone, another Jedi, a young woman. The Force works in mysterious ways, of course, because…it was you. You wouldn’t be born for another, what, eleven years? But I know it was you. We were meant to be here. I was meant to help you and…I plan on doing that. No matter what.”

Rey smiled, words failing her. She pulled you into her arms instead, resting her head against yours. You hugged her back, rubbing comforting circles in her shoulders.

“You know, I’ve always wanted a sister.” She admitted with a laugh, tears in her eyes.

“Well now you’ve got one.”

“I got seven charms, Aunt (Y/N).” Soren said, dangling them from their strings when you turned to look.

“How was the landing?”

“A little shaky, but…” He shrugged and then looked back up at the next charm, even higher than the last. “I think I could get another one.”

“Go ahead. Round two.” You encouraged, motioning him up into the tree.

Finn and Poe walked over not long after, chatting animatedly about something, BB-8 rolling alongside them. It was clear, even from that distance, that Finn was teasing him.

You couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

“She getting you up there next, Rey?” Finn asked, pointing up at the trees, where Soren had very clearly already gotten the hang of it, throwing a few flips and flourishes into his movements. You grinned, proud.

“Oh, no, I don’t think so.” Rey shook her head. “I will after you do.”

“Fair enough.” Finn chuckled. “How’s it going, ladies?”

“Good. Really good. Good, productive day today.” You said.

“Good view up there?” Poe asked, shielding his eyes as he glanced up at the highest branch, a glittering charm still hanging from a thread.

“Great view.” You said.

“I thought you said you could only cover short distances, that looks like quite a height.”

“You have to build up to it.” You told him, pointing to all the shorter branches on the way up to that point. “I can’t just fly straight up there. Maybe with some strength training, but these things aren’t what they used to be.” You gave them a flutter, noting the way his eyes caught on them yet again.

“Well, it looked great, from what I could see.”

“That’s high praise coming from you, flyboy.”

“Well, from one flyer to another…you’re a natural. Literally. You were born to be up there, doing that.”

You smiled, voice soft and sincere when you said, “So were you.”

“That means a lot, (Y/N).” He said, head turning downwards for a moment while he thought. “Anyway, uh, Finn and I were wondering if the two of you would join us at the cantina later? Rose’ll be there, too. Things have been so tense lately, we thought we could all blow off some steam.”

“I’d love to.”

Rey nodded. “Yeah, me too.”

“Just let me get changed into something more casual.” You said, flourishing the skirts of your Jedi robes.

“What, the robes aren’t fit for a night on the town?”

“The robes aren’t fit for…much other than looking solemn and kicking ass.” You said with a chuckle. “Unlike your flight suit, which is fit for any occasion.”

“Back to that, huh?” Poe grinned, letting out a laugh. “If you really like that thing so much, maybe I’ll wear it more often.”

You smirked. “I wouldn’t complain.”

“I would.” Finn chuckled. “It needs a good wash, buddy.”

“Alright, alright.”

You watched as Soren landed once again, wings powerful, stance strong. You gave him a nod, pride blossoming in your chest. He was getting there after all. Your training was working. You just hoped that, when danger came, he’d be ready for it.

You hoped you all would be.

Cards on the Table

You sat in your quarters with Rose and Rey, getting ready for your night out with the boys. You braided a few strands of your hair, tying them off with small gold rings at the end.

“This one?” Rey asked, holding the dress up against her frame, a sage green color. It was one of the ones you’d given her.

You nodded. “That color suits you. Brings out your eyes.”

Rey considered your words for a moment before beginning to change. Rose sat at your desk, looking through the accessories you’d pulled out. You plucked a pair of earrings from the collection, setting them in her palm.

“Are you sure? I’ve never worn a princess’ earrings before.” Rose said, staring at them. They were a pair of gold, dangling leaves. They’d go with the blouse she was wearing, a natural pattern on them.

“First time for everything.” You said with a shrug, turning your attention to your own outfit. A wine-colored top with a corset front, the back swooping just low enough for your wings. With it, you’d paired some dark brown pants with flared legs, a decorative gold belt made of metal hoops. You tucked your lightsaber into your bag, instead of displaying it at your hip.

“Oh this…” Rey struggled with the back of her dress. “I can’t get it to stay closed.”

“Here, let me.” You walked over and pulled ribbons from the sides of the dress, tying it closed above the large divot for where your wings went when you had worn it. “I sewed these in for Leia. She and I shared a closet during the Rebellion, more or less.”

Rey’s eyes scanned down her reflection, hands smoothing out the green fabric. “Thank you.”

“You look great.” You told her, words warm and reassuring. “You both do.”

“So do you!” Rose complimented.

A few minutes later, you decided you were ready, not that there was any pressure to be. This was just Finn and Poe you were talking about after all. But you had a feeling quite a few other members of the Resistance crew would be there.

The three of you arrived and it felt like time stopped. Poe and Finn were in a round booth in the corner and they both looked up, faces lit with anticipation at the sight of you. It felt good to be wearing something other than your robes or your standard Resistance gear, a luxury you did not take lightly.

They stood up and crossed the room, meeting you somewhere in the middle. Poe was wearing that leather jacket of his, the one you’d mistaken him for Han Solo in. Beneath it, a button-up that seemed to be missing a few buttons. You swore he was doing it on purpose.

“Hey, Princess.” He grinned. “Glad you made it.”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

Several Resistance folks milled about, dancing, playing games. A few droids manned the bar, where there were paper lanterns strung from the support beams, casting the room in warm, ambient light.

The five of you shimmied back into the booth, Poe going almost out of his way to make sure he got the seat next to yours, right on the end. His arm settled on the seat behind you, that strong sandalwood scent drifting from his pulse point. Maker, you could get lost in it.

When the droid taking drink orders came around, you each requested something, settling in for a nice, casual night.

A song you recognized came over the speakers in the corners of the room and you smiled. It was familiar. A place like this, people like these.

The more things changed…

“I requested some oldies for you.” Poe confessed, just about causing your heart to melt. “Thought it’d remind you of the good old days.”

“He put ten whole credits in the jukebox.” Finn tattled, earning a pointed look from the pilot. “Stood there forever picking out songs.”

“Well that was very sweet.” You said, leaning a little closer to him subconsciously. “Not to sound incredibly old, but the new music is still…growing on me, we’ll say.”

“How old were you?” Finn asked. “I’m sorry if that’s rude. I don’t think we’ve ever asked.”

“I’m twenty-four. I’ll be twenty-five in…well, I don’t know when my birthday falls now. Four months? Three months? Something like that. Give or take thirty years, of course.”

“You’re younger than me.” Poe murmured, almost in shock of the fact.

He’d taken it for granted, he guessed, just how young you were when they’d put you in that pod. But you’d existed his entire life, etched into legends and stories told by anyone who remembered the war. To him, you’d existed forever. But he was older than you, by eight years.

“Were you…alive when I was?” You asked, running the numbers in your mind.

“I’m thirty-two.” He said, meeting your eyes. There was an odd look in them, like he was asking permission for something. He chuckled, covering the flash of insecurity with a smirk and a quip. “I know I hardly look it.”

“You would have been really young, then.” You bit your lip, letting out a little laugh at the new information. The whole situation was ridiculous. You doubted your paths had ever crossed, so it didn’t matter, ultimately, but still. “That is a little weird.”

“It is.” Poe agreed, eyes still ever-searching yours for some sign that it was still okay, the feelings floating around his heart.

“That means you really are the Han of the group.” You said, in an attempt to diffuse the tension that had blossomed in his chest. It worked. You could feel it instantly. “He was like thirty and the rest of us were in our twenties.”

“Does that make you Leia this time?” Rey asked, catching your eyes, a spark of mischief in her gaze. She knew exactly what she was implying.

“I think it does. Which means you get to be me this time. Congratulations, you are now a princess. Use the title well.” You joked, sitting back against the cushioned bench, also, coincidentally, against Poe’s arm, which was still there, perched on the leather. Warmth emanated from him, both literally and figuratively.

Eventually, the drinks came and you took a few sips of yours, loosening up. You all chatted and joked and laughed. Eventually, Rey and Rose got up to dance with the mechs over on the dance floor. Finn followed behind them.

Jessika spotted you and motioned you over, a broad grin on her face. Beside her was Aspen. Snap was there, too. They were hanging out near the holodart board mounted to the wall.

“Wanna play some darts?” Poe smirked, following your eyeline.

“If you’re ready to get your ass kicked, sure.” You teased, getting out of the booth after him and walking over to where his friends were waiting.

“You look great, girl!” Jessika said. “Give us a spin.”

You did a little twirl, showing off the top, the pants, the accessories. Your wings fluttered behind you like a cape, folded down and out of the way, as they always were.

“Dameron said he was gonna try to get you out here tonight.” Snap said, jostling his buddy’s shoulder. “Glad you joined us.”

“Do you guys do this often?”

“Not often enough.” Aspen said with a laugh, perched criss-cross on a barstool. “But our schedules have us all wound up tighter than a drum. I think we all needed to let off some steam.”

“How have things been for you guys? Missions running smoothly?”

“As ever.” Jessika said. “Thanks, of course, to our fearless commander.”

“Stop, stop, you’re too kind.” Poe said, playfully brushing off his shoulder. “It helps that I have the best team in the galaxy at my disposal.”

Snap motioned you closer, handing you a glowing dart. “Alright, enough chitchat. I want the Jedi on my team.”

“That is not fair.” Poe protested immediately. “It’s only fair if she’s on my team.”

“Sorry, Poe, I’ve been spoken for.” You shrugged, throwing the dart and landing in the outer ring of the bullseye.

Snap’s face lit up and he high-fived you.

“That’s gotta be cheating.” Jessika said, looking to Aspen, who was serving, apparently, as the referee. Pilots took their holodarts very seriously, after all. “Ref, tell her she’s cheating.”

“No, if I was cheating, it would look like this.” You took a second dart from Snap, covered your eyes with one hand, and threw the dart, using the Force to pull it through an exaggerated loop-de-loop on its way to the board, where it hit dead on in the center. You lowered your hand and shrugged innocently. “I just genuinely have pretty decent aim, as hard as it is to believe.”

“She’s pretty and she’s got a sense of humor. You’re a goner, Dameron.” Snap said, elbowing him while you were distracted, laughing with Aspen and Jessika.

Poe chuckled, crossing his arms, eyes teeming with tenderness. “Believe me, pal, I know.”

***

The night went on. You had a few more drinks, toeing the line between tipsy and drunk, but not quite getting all the way there. You and Poe continued to dance around each other, but he didn’t make a move. Well, any further than he already had. But after watching him interact with some of his friends, you’d come to realize that he was a touchy guy. It was definitely his love language.

You sang some songs at the karaoke machine in the corner of the room, sharing the stage with Rose, who had a really good voice, as it turned out.

At the end of the evening, when the crowd began to dwindle, Poe walked you back to your quarters. You, somewhat clumsily, punched in your code, the doors sliding open smoothly. You lingered in the doorway, turning to look at him.

“Thanks for taking me out, Dameron.” You said, breaking the warm silence that threatened to swallow your moment. “I had a great time.”

“Thanks for coming. I, uh…” He reached for your hand and you gave it to him, letting him fiddle with your fingers. It was comforting, his touch. You doubted you’d ever tire of the feeling of those calloused palms against yours. “If you were serious about that joyride…I’m taking it up tomorrow. Little test-drive, checking perimeters. Two porgs, one stone, you know. It’ll still be a tight fit, if that’s alright.”

“Well we both know I have no problem with getting close to you, Dameron.” You teased, giving his hand a squeeze. “What time are you picking me up?”

“After breakfast? Or…well, whenever works. I know you’re busy.”

You nodded, eyes glimmering. “After breakfast works.”

You could feel it again, that warmth sweltering in Poe’s chest. That desire laced deep in his eyes. He was thinking about kissing you. The fantasy playing out in your mind, you weren’t sure if it was yours or his, at this point.

Him, grabbing you by the hip, burying a hand in your hair, kissing you fiercely, passionately, lips exploring every inch of your own. Hungrily. Like he’d been waiting for it. You heard the way his breath hitched, felt his large, warm hand wander further up your back, towards the base of your wings as he kissed you. Cards on the table, heart on his sleeve.

But he didn’t. Didn’t move, aside from giving your hand another squeeze.

You smiled at him, still reeling from the images that had just flashed through your mind, but doing your best to hide the way your heart was racing. “It’s a date.”

These Haunted Wounds

You woke with a start not long after you drifted off. An hour or two at most. Nightmares. Figured.

This time, it was about a different saber. A red one, two little offshoots on the side of the hilt. It looked dangerous. Poorly constructed, if you were honest. One wrong move and the wielder would slice their own hand off by mistake.

No, the scary part was the guy wielding it. Long, foreboding figure, black cloak that drifted in the wind. He wore a mask over his face, voice deepened by a modulator of some kind. It brought back memories in all the wrong ways.

Despite the fact that you hadn’t seen him yet, didn’t know what he looked like, you could just tell. This was Kylo Ren. Had to be. That type of energy could only come from someone who was trying his damndest to stand in the shadow of Darth Vader, an entity you were still all too familiar with.

Luke had made his peace with the guy. You had never gotten that opportunity.

Kylo swished his cape and from his shadow came Insidia, still haunting you after all these years. She plunged her saber into your heart, the pain scorching and real, a scream tearing itself from your throat, and that was when you woke in a cold sweat.

You sat there, hands shaking, heart racing, collecting yourself before trying to lay down to sleep again. Just as you were about to lay back down, there was a knock on your door. Eyebrows furrowing, you swung your legs out of the bed, crossing the room and opening the door with a click of a button on the wall panel.

Poe was standing there in his sweatpants, panting, armed with a piece of a pipe. It was clear he’d run there. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“Huh?” You asked, rubbing at your bleary eyes. You stopped, staring at his bare, toned chest for maybe too long before meeting his gaze. “I’m fine.”

He lowered the pipe. “Oh. I heard screaming.”

Had you screamed out loud? Maybe you had. Maybe you’d projected it on accident, through the Force.

“It was just a nightmare.” You reassured him. You chuckled when you looked at the pipe hanging from his grip. “Nice.”

“Hey, I could do some real damage with this thing.” He defended, giving it a test swing to demonstrate.

“Oh I bet.” You gave a tired smile, let out a sigh, that spot in your chest burning, where Insidia had stabbed you in this dream.

She’s dead. You reminded yourself. She can’t hurt me anymore because she’s dead.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Same old.” You shrugged. “Stabbed with a lightsaber this time. Right through the chest.”

He frowned, nodding. “Is there anything I can do?”

“I’ll be okay.” You promised him. “But thank you for rushing to my rescue. Very daring of you, Commander.”

“Any time.” 

You could feel that he wanted to stay. But you could tell he wasn’t going to ask. Ever the gentleman in the presence of a princess. It was kind of refreshing. You smiled at him. “Get some sleep, flyboy. See you in the morning.”

“You too. Goodnight.” He smiled. He held up the pipe in his hand. “I better go put this back.”

You laughed, watching as he walked back down the hallway. He glanced back at you, meeting your eyes before returning to the room he shared with Finn.

A soft smile pulled at your lips and you lingered in the hallway for a moment before closing your door and walking back to your bunk. You sat there, wondering what it would have been like if you asked him to stay. It wasn’t that you didn’t want him to, but…maybe there was a reason he was waiting.

Maybe he was waiting until after the war to get attached. That would be smart. You knew so many during the Rebellion who did just that. 

Some hashed everything out in the heat of the war, sure. It was hard to get comfortable. It was hard to know which base would be your last, which fight would end it all. Some people chased comfort, wanting to get close to each other while they had the chance.

But others wanted to wait, to make sure they were going to make it to see the peace after the war, and whatever relationship, whatever life awaited them after.

You rolled onto your side, staring at the wall. You wonder if he knew the way he had his hand wrapped around your heart, a little X-Wing orbiting it around and around.

Tomorrow, you promised yourself. Tomorrow you’d say something, up in the X-Wing with him. Arms around you, chest pressed against your back, legs tangled in the cockpit. And one way or the other, you’d finally have your answer.

This time, when you fell asleep, the only thing you dreamt of were his lips.

The Crash

The next morning, Poe met you and the others for breakfast, already dressed in his orange jumpsuit, the collar flipped open. You could not keep the smile off your face at the sight.

“I can’t believe this is really what does it for you.” He laughed, drunk off the look in your eyes.

“It suits you.” You said, eyes lingering on the collar, fighting the urge to reach out and fix it. You rummaged around your mind for some quip to fire back, but came up empty. He’d stolen the words right from your mouth.

The group of you finished eating and Poe cleared your plate, leading you towards the hangar. 

“I don’t have it painted yet, but the mechs checked over it yesterday and gave me the okay.” Poe explained.

“So we’re not going to crash, is what you’re saying.”

“Not with a Jedi on board.” He said, eyes meeting yours. “I still think about that transport you caught. I didn’t know you could just…do that.”

“Took a while to get to that point. Ships are heavy. It helps if I’m not fighting the trajectory. Laesynda’s ship was on its way down, I just…cushioned the fall.” You explained.

“You’re real humble for a Jedi, you know.”

“You think so?”

“More humble than I would be if I could lift spacecrafts with my mind.”

“Oh I’m aware, flyboy. If you were out here with a lightsaber, none of us would ever hear the end of it.” You teased, looking over his flightsuit, still enamored. “You’re already an ace pilot, you can’t possibly have all the skills.”

He opened his mouth to retort, but was cut off by the harsh blare of a distress signal. The two of you looked at each other before booking it to the strategy table, where Leia was, hand still over the button.

“It’s one of our settlements. First Order troops on the ground, TIE fighters.” She made eye contact with you, Rey running into the room right after. “Kylo is with them.”

She dispatched groups of fighters, sent you and Rey and sent out the Black Squadron. Poe marched through the hangar, yelling orders, getting his team ready for battle. You forced your eyes away from him as he loaded BB-8 into his X-Wing, strapped your saber to your belt, and loaded onto a transport with Rey and Finn.

Soren walked over, saber at the ready. You stopped him with a shake of your head, something akin to a maternal look in your eye. “I need you here. It’s just Kylo. Rey and I can handle him.”

“I’m ready.”

“I know you are.” You said, hands on his shoulders. “That’s why I need you here. Someone’s gotta protect the base.”

He nodded, understanding. He took a few steps back, standing with the others as they saw you all off.

You made eye contact with Poe, one last lingering glance before he climbed into the cockpit and took off into the sky, blasting off at lightspeed with the rest of his squadron to clear way for your transport.

The ramp of the transport closed and Finn looked at you. “He’s like you. Soren.”

“Reckless?” You asked.

He shook his head, eyes serious and warm. “Brave.”

You smiled at the thought and put a hand on Finn’s arm. “So are you.”

The ride was short, but shaky. You didn’t like turbulence, especially in a craft that only had thin, tiny windows. It left you uneasy. But eventually, you touched down, saber in hand, leading the charge with Rey.

There were dozens of Stormtroopers, opening fire on not only the scattered Resistance members, but any civilians they could get their hands on. You put yourself between them, deflecting their shots with a few swings of the saber. The fighters that had come with you ran out of the ship, assessing the situation and adjusting as quickly as possible.

In the air, a battle had broken out as well, X-Wings and TIE fighters firing at each other, as well as the ground below them. You tried to identify which ship was Poe’s. You could feel him up there, but it was hard to get a lock. All you knew was that it was a black ship, an orange stripe painted down the side. Black Squadron.

Another trooper shot at you you and you shifted into battle mode. You used the Force to mow over a row of troopers, pushing them onto their backs in the dirt and leaving them scrambling to get back to their feet. One came at you with a melee weapon, electrified, but you did away with it quickly, using the Force to throw him at a tank, the force of it taking out the canon with a loud explosion.

More troopers focused their aim on you and quickly met the same fate.

Overhead, an X-Wing twirled around, almost drifting through the air and taking out one, two, three TIE fighters in quick succession, firing at a cluster of troopers on the ground immediately after. That had to be Poe.

Another turret fired near the civilians and you ran towards it, using your wings to get some height and jumping up the length of it, burying your saber in the metal paneling on the side and riding it back down to the ground as it was destroyed in a cloud of fire and smoke.

Finn ushered civilians to safety, taking out any troopers that got close with a well-placed blast. Rey worked with you to take out the remaining turrets, keeping the troopers at bay as more of them unloaded from landing transports.

You heard a boom overhead and looked, hoping to see a TIE fighter on its way down, but instead catching sight of an X-Wing, black and orange, one of its engines engulfed in flames.

You reached up and caught it with the Force, directing it away from the thick trees it was aimed towards and turning the nose, bringing it down gently in a clearing of grass and dirt, away from the immediate violence on the sprawling battlefield. You didn’t have time to worry if it might be Poe climbing out of it. Didn’t even have time to think before you saw him.

Kylo Ren.

His saber glowed red, contrasting against the lush green of the planet you were standing on, his kyber crystal obviously damaged, the way its blade was flared. He’d forced it too hard, been too rough with it. Maybe that was why the offshoots were there, to redirect the excess energy.

He was dressed like a shadow, long and sleek, all in black, face covered up by that helmet. It was better that way. You were afraid of finding too much of your friends in his broken gaze. Leia. Han. In another life, you may have been something like an aunt to him. Now he stood in front of you, a monster. 

And he was headed right towards you, strides long and elegant.

“Mothim said you were awake, your Highness. It’s time to see if you really are the thing of legends.” He twirled his saber, voice distorted beyond anything human. An intimidation tactic, no doubt, in addition to the obvious imitation of one Darth Vader.

“Ah yes, my best friend’s biggest disappointment. I keep hearing about you, and I have to admit. You’re a lot taller than I expected.”

He raised his hand attempting to use the Force to…you weren’t sure. Grab you, choke you, but you had your shields up, always did, blocking out his attempt. “You’re good.”

“I have to be.” You replied, readying your saber, stretching out your neck.

He swung at you and you deflected, angling carefully to avoid the reach of the flares near the hilt of his saber. So that’s what they were for. One wrong move and it would be your hand he was slicing off. You countered, using your wings to spin into position, leveraging an attack that he dodged, his saber clashing loudly with your own.

“Tell me, did you really face Vader by yourself, or did you have Skywalker to help you?” He locked his saber with your own, mask uncomfortably close to your face. “Skywalker is dead now. I saw to that myself. I finished the work that Vader could not.”

You let out a cold laugh at that. “You’re not Vader. You’re not even close.”

That definitely pissed him off. He let out a strangled yell, running at you with full force. You dodged with a leap, spinning out of the way. He took the opportunity to take a swing at your wings, which flared in reply, flattening themselves out of his reach. Your foot swept through the dirt as you landed, breaking your somewhat clumsy fall.

That had been a targeted attack. Straight for the wings. Not your arm. Not your saber. Your wings.

Rey came over next, putting herself between the two of you, battling him with a rage you knew had to be personal. You could feel that they were connected. Always had been. There were layers here that you did not quite understand yet. But she still fought him, moves quick and deliberate and instinctual.

You jumped back in alongside her, red clashing against blue and pink, sparks flying. Some of the brush caught fire, but never fully ignited, instead filling the ground between you with smoke, partially obstructing the rest of the fight.

You landed a hit on his leg, slashing into the skin. Rey got him on the opposite arm and he let out a burst of Force energy that sent you both flying. You used your wings to recover, repositioning mid-air, an outstretched hand slowing Rey’s trajectory as well, just before the back of her head hit a tree.

“RETREAT!” Kylo screeched, his voice echoing through the trees, birds scattering at the loud, distorted cry.

You’d hurt him. Bad. You could see the blood pooling in the dirt as he stalked away.

The Stormtroopers and other forces retreated into the transports that hadn’t already been blown up. The remaining TIE fighters, few though there were, hopped to lightspeed. One of the X-Wings shot a few transports on their way into the atmosphere, but other than that, the fight was over.

You found Finn among the crowd, making sure he was uninjured. He was fine. There had been some injuries, but no casualties, even among the civilians, who were cheering and embracing, celebrating their safety for the moment.

You looked over at the crashed X-Wing, smoking at the edge of the field and ran over to it, wings carrying you farther and faster than you’d flown in years, just a handful of feet above the grass. You landed on one of the wings and used the Force to pop open the cockpit, the windshield cracked, the pilot still inside.

She tugged off her helmet, long brown hair cascading down her shoulders. Jessika. Not Poe.

You offered her a hand, helping her out. She looked up at you, awe in her eyes, her hand wrapping around yours. You used your wings to lower the both of you gently to the ground.

“Are you alright?”

“I swore I was going to crash. You…you saved my life.” She rushed into your arms and you held her, rocking her comfortingly. “How do I even begin to repay you for that?”

“You don’t. We’re all in this together.” You assured her, wiping some of the soot from her face with a gentle hand. “Now let’s get you back to base. I’m sure there’s lots of room for you on the transport.”

One of the Resistance members from the planet rushed over, putting out her smoking X-Wing engine with a fire extinguisher. “We’ll take care of this. Get it repaired as soon as possible.”

Jessika exchanged some words with the mech, arranging something of a plan to come get it before following you and the others back onto the transport.

“Are you alright?” You asked Rey, checking all your bases, counting faces and heads.

“I’m fine. Are you?”

“I’m good. He…I don’t know what he knows about Mariposans, but he was locked in on my wings.” You said, shivering at the thought. “Someone must have told him to aim there.”

“You think the First Order has a Mariposan?”

“Maybe.” You said. “He…he mentioned someone named Mothim. That’s…vaguely Mariposan-sounding.”

You watched the sky, the X-Wings rounding up. Jessika had her helmet tucked under her arm, which started talking, Poe’s voice coming through the headset. You could have cried with relief that he was alright.

“Pava, come in. Are you alive out there? We don’t have eyes on your X-Wing.”

“I’m alive, Black Leader. Boarding one of the transports on the ground. They hit me in the right wing, but one of the Jedi caught me on the way down.”

He chuckled and you could hear the smile in his voice when he said, “That is great news. We’ll see you back at base.”

You watched as the X-Wings took off, hitting lightspeed in rapid succession. Your own transport followed suit not long after, once everyone was accounted for and all the systems had been checked for damage. You breathed, focusing on the quiet until finally, the ship landed and the ramp lowered.

You walked out, surveying the crowd of celebrating rebels when you spotted BB-8 whirring at you at full speed, beeping a mile a minute. He looked you up and down and then sped away, straight to Poe, who looked down at him. His little head swivelled to you and back.

“(Y/N)!”

Poe sprinted over, pulling you into his arms the second he was close enough. He let out a long breath, his gloved hand cradling the back of your head as he held you. You wrapped your arms around him, resting your head against his shoulder, wings twitching before relaxing completely.

“You…you’re alright? I saw him go after you. I wanted to shoot, but I couldn’t get a clean shot.” He said, regret in his voice, guilt on his brow.

“I’m okay, Poe. Really.” You told him, pulling away for a moment to get a glimpse at his face, check him over for injuries. There was sweat dotted on his forehead, wetting the curls at the edge of his hairline. “I thought it was your ship coming down. I was so scared.”

He shook his head, taking a moment to peel off his gloves so he could touch your cheek with his hand, skin impossibly warm. He rested his forehead against yours, the movement familiar and comfortable. “You saved one of my pilots. I…just when I think you can’t possibly impress me more…”

You wanted to kiss him so badly. So, so badly. Just surge forward and collect his lips as he uttered his sweet, flattering words. You could tell he wanted it, too. That victory kiss.

“Poe…” You murmured, mouth impossibly close.

“I’m right here, baby.” He whispered in response, voice gentle, eyes soft. Sparkling with anticipation. “We’re okay.”

Your breath hitched at the petname, heart racing faster than his X-Wing. You repeated his words. “We’re okay.”

He nodded, closing his eyes for a moment. He took a long breath and then hooked an arm around your waist again, pulling you close as he pressed a long kiss to your cheek. He buried his face in your shoulder, inhaling what was left of your perfume, diluted, you were sure, by the smoke from the battle.

Mood lightening considerably once he’d processed that you were actually okay, that you’d won, that you and Rey had fought off Kylo Ren, he chuckled to himself, remembering your original  plans for the day.

“Sorry about our date, but…she’s probably gonna need some repairs before I take her up again.” He looked back at his X-Wing, untangling himself from you, but keeping an arm anchored around your waist, just beneath the base of your wings. It tickled, where his orange sleeve touched the soft tissue, but you didn’t dare move him.

BB-8 beeped up at him, agitated.

“I was careful, Bee, why do you think we’re standing here?”

He beeped something complimentary of your performance out in the battle.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.” He grinned, proud. “Really, you were awesome out there.”

“So were you, flyboy. I lost count of how many TIE fighters you took down. Are you sure you’re not Force sensitive?”

He smiled that prettyboy smile, reaching over to wipe some soot from your face, thumb moving deliberately, focused on one spot. “Pretty sure. I’ve just had a lot of practice.”

You saw Soren, ready to approach you, but giving you a minute with your pilot. You nodded at him, a promise that you’d be over there soon.

“I better check on my team. Make sure everyone’s in one piece.” Poe said, looking back towards the hangar where the pilots and mechs were conversing, figure out what all needed to be fixed after the skirmish. “Will, uh…would you grab dinner with me later? You know, since our date got rained out and all…”

You nodded, smiled at him. You put a hand on his cheek and guided him closer, pressing a kiss just beneath his scar. “Dinner sounds great. But when that ship is fixed, I better be first in line for that joyride you promised me.”

He laughed, nodding. “Absolutely, your Highness.”

You went your separate ways, his hand lingering on yours until the last possible second until you were finally pulled apart. And yet, as you met with the other members of the Resistance, talking over the battle, taking stock of everything, he was the only thing you could think of, the feeling of his lips still lingering against your cheek.

Vintage Diplomacy

After the battle, you spent the coming days doing strength training for your wings. Your flight across the ground had opened your eyes. If you could cover ground like that regularly, it could be lifesaving.

You’d spend mornings up in the clearing on the hill. Artoo found you up there once and asked what you were doing as you hovered, wings fluttering impossibly fast. You started with five second bursts, then ten, then twenty.

Artoo timed you, let you know when to stop. And that was how Poe found you one morning before a strategy meeting with the General, as well as her Admirals and Commanders. You’d been hovering for nearly a full minute, kicking up a small breeze in your wake.

You touched down when you saw him approaching, wings folding down with record speed as Artoo gave you the breakdown. Your longest yet. With more training, who knew? Maybe you could be the first Mariposan to rediscover the power of true flight. You could certainly hope.

You stretched out your back, hands on your hips stretching both ways. You hoped the soreness meant you were building muscle, if that was how that worked.

“Hey, Princess. Thought I might find you up here. You eat breakfast yet?”

“Yeah, I had something before I came out here.” You replied.

“Good. Meeting starts soon.”

“Thought so.” You glanced at your watch. “Shall we?”

“Lead the way.” He motioned. He was wearing a leather jacket you hadn’t seen on him yet. It was brown, a rebel patch on the shoulder. Definitely vintage.

“Cool jacket.”

“You like it?” He asked with a smirk.

“Yeah. Is it vintage?”

“It is, actually. Good eye.” He rested his hands on his belt buckle. “Not as vintage as you, of course, your Highness.”

“Hey!” You elbowed him and he elbowed you back, both of you laughing as you strode into the meeting together.

A few eyes caught you, knowing looks exchanged between the other assembled people. You said some hellos, exchanged the necessary pleasantries. You greeted your sister, who smiled warmly when she saw you and Poe walk in together.

You were sure after your little, uh, victory celebration out in the middle of the base, that everyone there must have thought you were dating behind closed doors.

You wished they were right.

Poe sat with the pilots, but you could feel his eyes on you as you mingled with the folks filing into the seats around you. Rey, as always, took the seat next to yours. On your other side, Soren. There was always a certain energy to the room when the Jedi were all together. People paid attention.

Before long, General Organa started the meeting. The main topic of interest: Resistance allies, or the lack thereof.

Since the battle at Crait, Leia had been trying to get in contact with anyone she could think of, friends new and old, anyone the Resistance had helped, but responses were few and far between. The First Order had done their best to silence or…eliminate anyone who wasn’t loyal to them.

“What we’re running low on is hope.” Leia said. “The people don’t think we stand a chance against the First Order. They’d rather hide in fear than stand up and fight. And if we don’t find some allies soon…it’s a matter of time before they take us out. We’re already running on scraps here.”

Chewbacca roared out his support.

“More outreach.” Another Admiral suggested. “The people saw what we did for them in the Endor system, that we stand up for them when it matters. Hell, we got twenty new recruits from that battle alone. When people see the difference we make, they want to fight with us.”

“I think our next move needs to be diplomacy, General. It’s been a while since we’ve had representatives at any events raising awareness.” Your sister reasoned. “How are they supposed to know we’re still here if they never see us?”

“But who would go?” Leia asked, scanning the room. “Diplomatic training hasn’t been very high on our regimen, I’m afraid.”

“I can go.” You volunteered. The eyes in the room fell on you quickly, like they’d been expecting you to say it. “The First Order already knows I’m alive, our allies should, too. They think we have one Jedi, we have three. I think that would spark quite a bit of hope, General. Besides, I have the diplomatic training and I never get to use it.”

She smiled, eyes sparkling. “I was hoping you’d say that. I did catch wind of a gala. It’s…mostly safe. Former Rebel sympathizers, a formal event. It would be as good a place as ever to make a debut. You’ll need a pilot of course, to–”

“I’ll go, General.” Poe volunteered before anyone else even had the chance. “I’ll escort the princess. It would be my honor.”

Leia gave a small, professional smile that you could tell she was all she could do to keep from laughing at the sheer speed with which he offered himself up for the mission. She thought about making him fight for it, and she knew he would. Poe Dameron was nothing if not stubborn, ambitious. It was why she respected him so much.

And at the same time, she knew exactly what would happen if she sent the two of you there, together. Alone.

Maybe it was about time.

“Great. Get packed. It’s tonight, three systems out. Take the Falcon.”

***

After the meeting, you went straight to your quarters, shuffling through your closet for anything…formal. You had a lot of Jedi robes, that was for sure, which might have suited an event like this in the olden days, before even your time, but now…all it would ensure was that you would stick out more than you already did.

“Thought I’d find you here.” Laesynda said, standing in the doorway. “I might have something that’ll work.”

You followed her to her quarters. She opened her wardrobe and pushed aside some clothes, reaching for something specific. She pulled it out with a flourish. A long, midnight blue gown. Off the shoulder. It glittered like stars and truly did look fit for a princess to wear. With it, she had a silver circlet, some silver Mariposan cuff bracelets.

“Mom’s…” You remembered, a hand drifting down the sparkling fabric.

Laesynda nodded. “I’ve been saving it for a special occasion. Maybe I knew you’d need it someday.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course. Now, let’s get you dressed. Sounds like you have a flight to catch.”

Laesynda helped you into the gown, adjusting the flowing fabric so it sat just so, helping to slip your wings through the slot sewn in specifically for them. It was nice, wearing Mariposan garb again, something you didn’t have to adjust in order to wear comfortably.

She put your hair in a simple style, braiding the front pieces back, setting the circlet on your head. You put on the cuffs, put on a silver belt and strapped your saber to it, the final piece of the puzzle. The metal tones clashed, but maybe that was okay. It would stand out, at the very least.

“How do I look?”

“Like a princess.” She replied, a hand reaching out to touch your face. “And like Mom.”

You couldn’t help but tear up a little bit when she said it. She carefully tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, giving a final nod. You were ready.

You stopped back into your room, packed a bag with some essentials. Among your things, you found your wooden box of Rebel memorabilia. Pins, cuff links, a pair of dangling silver earrings. You tucked it into the bag as well, along with another change of clothes for after the party. As gorgeous as the gown was, you doubted you’d want to be in it all night. You knew how these kinds of parties went. They were long and socially exhausting. You’d be longing for those Resistance standard sweatpants at the end of it.

There was a knock on the doorframe, your door still open. You expected it to be Laesyndra, having forgotten something. Instead, it was Poe, holding a garment bag that you assumed contained his formal wear.

“Tried to get the General let me take my flight suit out for ya, but she wasn’t having it. You ready for–” He stared, voice dropping off once he spotted you, dressed in a dazzling, midnight gown. “Oh. Wow…”

“Ready for…?” You raised an eyebrow, walking closer with slow strides.

“For takeoff?” He asked, Adam’s apple bobbing, eyes half-lidded. “Chewie warmed up the Falcon for us.”

You smiled warmly, nodding. “All packed, Commander. Ready when you are.”

“Perfect. Right. Well, let’s…” He offered his arm and you took it, slipping your arm through his, your bag slung over the other shoulder.

You gave his bicep a playful squeeze, laughter bubbling out of your painted lips. “Loth-cat got your tongue, Dameron? It’s just me.”

He let out a chuckle, meeting your eyes. “That’s the problem, your Highness.”

This Changes Everything

Your friends saw you off, complimenting you endlessly. Rey and Rose demanded you twirl around, showing off the look, which you gladly did.

“You look dazzling, Princess.” Threepio complimented, giving a little bow, arms poised at their odd angles.

“Thank you, Threepio. It was my mother’s.” You said, a sad, proud glimmer in your eye. Poe caught it immediately.

Artoo came with, but otherwise, it was just you and Poe in that big ship. He put in the coordinates, lifted off the planet, and put it into hyperdrive, with you in the passenger seat. Once it was on autopilot, you were free to move around the cabin.

Poe took his garment bag from one of the other seats and moved towards one of the Falcon’s tiny bed cabins to change. In the meantime, you found a mirror and put in a pair of earrings from your box of Rebel trinkets. They were the Rebellion’s symbol, silver and dangling from tiny chains. They completed the look.

Poe emerged a few minutes later, wearing a dark blue formal tunic, dramatic diagonal trim highlighting his shoulders. It was paired with matching navy pants, some black loafers with silver buckles.

“There was a hat, too, but I thought it would be too much.” He said, standing stiff while you looked him over, eyes roving his figure.

“Covering hair like that would be a crime, I think.” You told him, earning a chuckle and that dashing smile.

Your eyes lingered on the ends of his sleeves and you dug around in your box until you found a pair of cufflinks. You walked over to him, grabbing his hand and inserting one of the cufflinks into the end of his sleeve.

“Where’d you get this stuff?” He asked, watching your careful movements as you switched sleeves, putting the other one in as well.

“I’ve had it. Held onto it after the war. Figured we’d wear them to…charity events or something.” You shrugged. You rummaged around the box for a lapel pin, focused as you pinned it to one side of his tunic, straightening it with a quick movement. “Never thought we’d need them for war fundraising, but here we are…”

“My parents were Rebels, you know.” He confessed, voice soft, eyes softer. He’d been holding onto it, unsure why he’d never found the opportunity to tell you until now. Maybe he was afraid the information would shift your already teetering dynamic.

“Hence the jacket.” You noted, meeting his gaze, fingers still lingering on the pin. The wheels turned in your head and your jaw dropped, finally seeing it in his face. Those brows. That nose. Those eyes. “You’re…you’re Kes Dameron’s kid.”

He chuckled and nodded, eyes sparkling. “Yeah. I am. You knew him?”

“I did know him.” You laughed to yourself shaking your head. “Maker, I can’t believe I didn’t put those pieces together. He worked with Han and the pathfinders. I worked with Leia. It was kind of inevitable that our paths crossed. He was a great guy.”

“Is a great guy.” He said. “He still lives on Yavin. That’s where I grew up.”

You hummed, nodding. “That’s really good news, Poe. I’d…I’d love to see him sometime.”

“I’m sure he’d love to see you when all of this is over.” He said, eyes softening when he spoke of home, of family. “Mom was a pilot. Maybe you knew her. Her name was Shara.”

You gasped softly. “You’re…you’re Shara’s son? Shara Bey?”

Poe nodded, smiling. “I am.”

“Poe…I…” You teared up, studying him, dividing his features in your head, which had come from Shara, from Kes. You touched his face, laughed sadly, happy memories bubbling to the surface. “Shara was…so special. She was my bunkmate on Hoth. She and I kept watch together twice a week. We ate lunch together almost every day. We shared wine bottles at parties. I…I always thought there was something going on between her and Kes, but they kept it very professional. Didn’t know they were engaged until after the war.”

Poe got a little misty, nostalgia swirled in his warm brown eyes.

“We don’t have to talk about it, I’m sorry…”

He shook his head, taking your hand and kissing the back of it. “You were there. I always forget you were there. I can’t believe you knew them…”

“Maker, I could tell you so many stories…”

“I want you to. I want to hear all about them when we get home.”

“Okay.” You nodded, shedding a single tear that he was quick to wipe away, pulling you into a hug instead.

He pressed a long kiss to the crown of your head, arms tight around your shoulders, yours wrapped around his middle. You listened to his heart, hammering away beneath his tunic. You felt his lips on your forehead again, lingering for longer this time before he rested his head against yours, swaying slightly with you in his hold.

Eventually, Artoo rolled into the room, beeping to let you know you were getting close.

“Thank you, Artoo.”

He complimented Poe’s pin with a series of beeps and Poe grinned and thanked him.

“Here, I’ve probably got a magnet in here you can wear.” You said, rummaging through your box until you found one. You knelt down and he rolled forward, letting you stick it to one of his panels.

He beeped and whirred in approval, asking how he looked.

“You look very sharp.” You assured him. “You fit right in, now.”

Poe wandered into the cockpit, standing between the back row of seats, watching as the stars flew by at lightspeed. You stepped in after him and he wrapped an arm around your shoulders without a second thought.

He was your pilot, you were his princess. That was all that mattered. You rested your head against him, watching the stars.

***

The gala was being held at a nice hotel, chandeliers glimmering above, painted portraits hanging on the wall and abstract sculptures sitting on pedestals. It reminded you of home, in a way, if Mariposas had been colorless and stiff. There was soft music playing, a band tucked into the corner of the room. Poe took your arm, escorting you through the room of senators and leaders, former Rebellion members.

It was clear that this gala was pretending to be something it was not. On the outside, it had been bolstered as an academy class reunion, probably to drive off any First Order loyalists, keep them off the trail, inside was a completely different story.

You knew these people. A lot of them, wrinkled and graying though they were. Pathfinders, pilots, ground fighters, comm techs…these had been your brothers and sisters on base, and a decent amount of them, seemingly, had bloomed into important people in their own right.

What was holding them back from helping, you wondered, scanning the room. Maybe it was just the fear of the First Order, of making themselves vulnerable just to be eliminated without a second thought. But as the eyes in the room found you, the whispers picked up, speculating how it was you were there, standing there, living and breathing after all this time.

“How’s that for a first impression…” Poe murmured, just loud enough for you to hear, watching the way these legends reacted to seeing you.

“Time to finally use these stares and whispers to our advantage.” You said, leading him over to a corner where some former fighters were standing. You picked one from the crowd, calling his name to your mind. After all, it had only been two years since you’d seen him.

“Y-your Highness?” He asked, looking you up and down. He glanced at the others, as if to make sure you weren’t some Force Ghost standing there in front of him, that they were seeing it too. “I thought you were…”

“Dead? Lots of folks seem to think so.” You replied, offering your hand, which he shook vigorously. “It’s good to see you, Lieutenant. How’s Marsha?”

That was how it started. You navigated through the room, a walking myth.

Once you made your rounds, Poe at your side, chatting with the people gathered there, you felt a tap on your arm and turned to find him. Lando Calrissian in the flesh.

“I was wondering if I might steal a dance, Princess. If you’re not too busy with the Commander here.” Lando motioned to Poe, whose mouth fell open at his sudden appearance.

“Lando!” You all but jumped into his arms, captured quickly in a tight hug. He swayed back and forth, laughing.

“Maker, Leia was right. You really haven’t aged a day.” He said, taking a moment to look at you. He spun you around. “Can’t say the same for the rest of us.”

“You look great Lando. I was wondering when I’d finally get to see you. How have you been?”

“Oh, same old. Leia tipped me off about this…reunion. Thought I could help finally win these stuffy old guys over.”

“No such luck, I’m guessing.” Poe said, scanning the room.

“Not yet.” Lando winked at you. “That’s why she sent her secret weapon.”

“Not so secret anymore.” You said, trying to ignore all the eyes in your peripheral vision.

Lando introduced and reintroduced you to a handful of old colleagues. One of them, a senator now, stiffened at the sight of you, looking you up and down.

“Leia…dressed you up just like her. It would be convincing, if not for the fake wings.” He said with a sneer. “Almost had me there for a second.”

You chuckled softly, malice creeping into your eyes. “Fake wings?” You repeated, raising them slightly.

“I’ve seen them in action, Senator. I assure you, these things are the real deal.” Poe said, expression guarded, tone painfully casual.

Artoo beeped something at him, agitated, but the senator batted a hand. “I don’t speak droid.”

“I can’t translate what he said anyway, it’s hardly appropriate for an event like this.” You said with a laugh. “Do you need another drink?”

“That’s not–” He started to argue, but you held out a hand, using the Force to pull a champagne flute from across the room. It glided smoothly through the air and hovered in front of him. He stared at it, dropping the empty glass in his own hand. He looked up at you in horror as Poe laughed. “You’re her.”

“Obviously.” You replied, plucking the drink from the air and handing it to him. “I know it’s hard to believe. It’s a long story, but I was saved by one very daring pilot, a Jedi, and a fighter after a long time asleep. Imagine my surprise at waking up to another war.”

He shook his head, brows furrowed. “What war?”

“The First Order. The Resistance. Are you unaware of the conflicts, or just too callous to care this time, elevated position and all?” You asked.

“The need for fighting is over.” He said, shaking his head. “I had my war, I’m sure we can all just live in peace.”

“Senator, I don’t know if you’ve been out there, but it’s bad.” Poe said, eyes serious. “What they did to the New Republic…”

“Was a horrible incident, I’m sure, but that doesn’t mean we can all just…hop in an X-Wing and blow things up.”

You laughed at that. “You didn’t even do that the first time. You failed your flight test, if I remember correctly, Senator. Was it two times, or three?”

He scoffed, clearly offended. “Well, I–”

Poe’s eyes lit up, watching as you warmed up to take your shot.

“Don’t you remember what things were like? Under the Empire? Maybe it’s been too long for you. I know thirty years is a long time to hold onto memories, but…it’s only been two years for me. Two years since the Battle of Endor. Two years of quiet after. I remember how bad it was and this is worse. The weapons they have, the forces, the numbers. They have a Sith trying to outshine Darth Vader and Maker knows what else hidden on those Star Destroyers. They are taking children and ruining lives. One of our best friends is a former trooper. I wish he was here to tell you himself the horrors he’s seen aboard those vessels. They can destroy planets with a few button presses. Maybe you feel safe right now. Maybe you’re playing into their pocket, who knows, but someday, they’ll turn on you, too, and there will be no one left to protect you because you didn’t help the Resistance fight back.”

The room fell silent, every ear tuning into your fiery words. Lando let out a proud little laugh.

Someone across the room stepped forward, meeting your eyes. Wedge. Wedge Antilles. One of the best Rebel pilots there was. He’d been great friends with Luke, so you’d known him pretty well. It was good to see he was still around.

“Well, your Highness, where do we sign up?”

***

After a few more hours of networking, of Poe handing out tokens for further communication, taking pledges and handing out contact information for any people they knew who’d like to enlist in the Rebellion, the three of you–you, Poe and Artoo, that is–said your goodbyes and headed back to the ship.

As soon as the ramp was closed, Poe’s face broke into a victorious smile and he took you in his arms, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around. Laughter bubbled from your lips.

“That was insane!” A triumphant laugh escaped him. “You flipped that whole room in less than a minute! I…I…” He set you down, unable to wipe the smile from his face. “I can’t believe that just happened. This changes…everything. We’re gonna have so many new recruits. We’re gonna be able to get so many supplies…”

“New pilots?” You asked.

“New X-Wings. New ships. New blasters. Kriff, new uniforms, even.” He smiled, grabbing onto your arms, just above the flowing, off-the-shoulder sleeves. “Wow, I dunno, I had my doubts when Leia sent me four systems out for a shiny rock, but…I don’t know what we’d do without you here.” He met your eyes, took a step closer, dipped his head down. “I don’t know what I’d do without you here…”

You couldn’t do it anymore. You couldn’t dance around him and pretend your heart wasn’t on fire just looking at him.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and tugged him closer, lips capturing his easily, as you had in your fantasies so many times. He gasped into your mouth, arms winding around your waist and pulling you against him, lips passionate and experienced. Poe held you there with one arm, the other traveling up into your hair.

Your nose brushed against his as he twisted, getting an even better angle, teeth nipping at your lip. You reached up and cupped his cheek, thumb brushing through the stubble accumulated there.

He pulled back, forehead against yours, breaths ragged as his eyes searched your face, looking for some evidence that that had happened, that it was real this time.

“Say something,” you whispered, hand still anchored against his cheek, eyes sparkling with insecurity. “Please.”

“Give me a second. I’ve never kissed a princess before.” He murmured, kissing your forehead, then your cheeks, pressing another long one to your lips. Soft, but filled with so much passion. He let out a breathy chuckle, meeting your eyes. “Maker, you have no idea how many times I’ve dreamed of doing that.”

You bit your lip, a guilty little smile twisting your mouth. “Actually, about that…”

Poe’s eyes widened, jaw dropping before the shock melted into an embarrassed grin. “You…you could feel it, huh? The whole time?”

“More or less.” You confessed. You pulled him back into you and he didn’t resist, nose brushing yours as you whispered, “I couldn’t tell if they were your fantasies or mine, to be honest.”

He stepped forward, cupping your cheek as he captured your lips again, hungrier this time, lit up by your words, by your confession, that you had felt this way about him for just as long as he’d been drawn to you.

Another step forward and your exposed back touched the cold metal of a wall panel, one of Poe’s hands taking yours, fingers interlacing as he held it up against the wall. His other hand tugged your waist closer, closer, closer, like he was trying to fuse the two of you into one person.

You crooned, hooking your arm around his neck, keeping him there.

“Tell me to stop,” he rasped, lips trailing down your neck before crushing against yours again. “Use one of your Jedi Mind Tricks or something.”

“I can’t.” You laughed against him. “They wouldn’t work on you anyway and…I don’t want you to stop.”

“Well good, because I don’t think I can…” He said with a chuckle, nose smushed against yours. He kissed you again, movements tender and slow, smiling against you when he heard your breath hitch. “I thought Jedi weren’t allowed to fall in love. I would have done this so much sooner…”

You laughed. “That’s what was stopping you? I thought you weren’t afraid of bending the rules, Commander.”

Poe let out a breath, smirking. “Well yeah, but…you’re a princess. I thought you might not be so keen on rulebreaking.”

“Well the good news is, there aren’t any rules against Jedi falling in love anymore.” You murmured, resting your forehead against his, hands tugging on the trim of his tunic. “But if there were…I would break them for you, Poe Dameron.”

He grinned that flyboy grin, going in for one last kiss, then another, then one final, lingering kiss, stealing the breath from your lungs, the butterflies in your stomach flying loop-de-loops that rivaled any maneuver he could pull off with his X-Wing.

Soon, you knew you’d have to fly back to base, update Leia on the progress you’d made, return to your schedules and duties.

But now, you shared your breaths with him, heart racing as he cupped your cheeks, whispering sweet words against your lips, promises to steal away more time together as soon as the Maker would allow.

A Little Rebel Spirit

Poe slept in your bed that night.

Your mattress was hardly big enough for one of you let alone both of you, but he didn’t mind, changing out of his formal tunic, carefully returning your Rebellion trinkets to their special little box, and laying in your bed, watching you, hands folded on his toned tan chest, the chain around his neck glimmering against his skin.

You’d changed into some sleep shorts and a tanktop you’d modified for your wings. When you turned to face him again in the dim bedroom, he gasped, eyes falling on your thigh. More specifically, the large tattoo piece stretched across your skin.

“You have a tattoo?” He asked, almost scandalized. “Princess, I knew you were a Rebel, but I didn’t know you were so rebellious.”

“You wanna know what’s rebellious…Leia did this.” You said, fingers skimming over the artwork.

His jaw dropped. “No fucking way.”

“Yes way.” You nodded, walking over to the bed and sat beside him, propping your leg atop his so he could see better.

He ran a large hand over the tattoo, the sheer warmth of his touch sending shivers down your spine. “When?”

“Three years ago.” You answered, before correcting “Thirty-three years ago. We were on some planet, there was a market and she got a tattoo gun for like…twelve credits, which should have been the first red flag.”

“And you let her do that?” He asked, laughing.

“Well yeah. She’s my best friend. I knew it would drive my parents nuts, their second in line for the throne defiling her skin, but…I didn’t really expect to survive the war, to be honest. Besides, I was the spare, what were they gonna do about it? I knew I was never going to be queen.” You said with a shrug. “It’s not half bad anyways. She’s a talented artist.”

“This is…that tree, isn’t it. The one on Mariposas.” He said, studying the lines, the shading. It was a large, sprawling tree, branches thick, covered in flowers. Roots twisted down your thigh, headed towards your knee, and in the roots, were a few stray butterflies. Above it, three moons, their shaded crescents in various stages of their cycles.

You nodded. “The Monarch Tree. From which, all life on Mariposas bloomed, or so the legends go.” You guided his hand further down the art, to where the roots curled into a subtle version of the symbol of the Rebellion. “This was by special request.”

His features glowed with recognition and he met your eyes, reaching up to smooth the hair out of your face. “Wow, that’s…that’s really hot, I’ll be honest.”

You giggled, shifting your body towards him. “Yeah? A little Rebel spirit is what does it for you?”

“You’re one to talk. You’re into that silly orange jumpsuit of mine.” He teased, hand hooking your knee and tugging your leg to the other side of his hips, so you were straddling him, hovering inches from his face.

Your wings twitched behind you as you cupped his face with both hands, nose pressed to his. Tenderly, slowly, you inched in, grinning when he got impatient and chased your lips, hands wandering up to your waist to tug you closer.

“You know, honestly Poe, it’s not so much the jumpsuit as it is the thought of…taking it off of you. How easy it would be to just…reach out and unzip it a little.” Mischief glimmered in your eyes. “With the Force.”

He let out a broken groan at that, throwing his head back towards the wall. “You can’t just say that when I’m not wearing it.”

You smiled, coy. “Next time, perhaps.”

“Oh, there’s no question about that, sweetheart.” He had fire in his eyes when he pulled you towards him, crushing his lips to yours, tongue teasing at the seam between your mouths. You let him in, the taste of him rolling across your tongue, minty fresh from his toothpaste.

You threaded your fingers through his curls, letting out a whine when his lips left yours and started trailing down your neck, stubble rough against the sensitive skin. His hand ghosted up your back, finding the base of your wings, calloused fingertips brushing against the spot between them.

Tingles shot through your limbs like firecrackers and you crumbled against him.

He froze, the panic setting in. “Woahhh, sorry, sorry, is that not an okay spot?”

You took a deep breath, reaching up to cup his cheek, turning his face towards you as best you could from your spot tucked into his shoulder. You laughed sheepishly, cheeks flushed. “S’fine, Poe. I’m okay.”

“No, if it’s not fine, you need to tell me. Baby, I’ve never…touched a Mariposan before, I don’t know what I’m doing.” He confessed.

“It’s…that spot is the most sensitive spot on my whole body.” You said through laughs, pulling his face down to meet yours. “So we just went zero to a thousand all at once.”

“Oh.” He laughed. “So it’s a no-go zone.”

“It’s a ‘we have to work up to that’ zone.” You amended, pressing a kiss to his lips, adjusting yourself so you were a little more upright. “You can touch it, but…it has to be featherlight. Unless we’ve gotten there.”

“Okay.” He nodded, nose brushing against yours. “So, do they…have feeling in them?” He asked, hand hovering just above the crest of one of your wings, still a little afraid to outright touch them, despite the fact that he already had, that night in the kitchens.

“Mmhmm.” You spread one out for him, an invitation. “You can touch them. Just be gentle. Like before.”

Poe reached out, running the palm of his hand down the length of one wing, tingles running down your back as he did.

You let out a contented sigh, lulling against his chest as your muscles relaxed.

“Does it feel good?”

“Yeah.” You kissed his cheek, then the corner of his lips, hand resting against his chest. “It’s like…having your hair played with.”

He smiled at that, continuing the gentle movements while you were curled up in his arms. He kissed you again, lips impossibly soft, like silk, the fine royal satins your sheets on Mariposas had been made of.

“You’re the only one allowed to touch them, though.” You told him.

“Just me?” He asked, absolutely enamored.

“Just you.” You punctuated it with a kiss that he readily reciprocated. “It’s…seen as a romantic thing, on Mariposas. Wing-touching is…very personal.”

“So when you let me touch them that night…”

“I was making a move, more or less. I knew you wouldn’t take it that way, though. It doesn’t mean much to outsiders.”

“It meant everything to me, Princess.” He whispered, kissing your forehead. He basked in the proximity, of the feeling of you in his arms, the way you slotted perfectly against him, like you were made for him. “Should have done my research. Would have saved us both some time.”

You laughed. “I doubt Laesynda would have told you that.”

“True.” He went quiet for a while, thinking over something before asking, “Do you…miss it?”

“Miss what?”

“Just…the way things were, before you went to sleep.” He asked. 

You could tell it had been weighing on him. If you missed people from before. If you missed the relationships you’d had. If you missed Luke.

“Sometimes. I miss Mariposas a lot. I miss my family. I didn’t even get the privilege of losing them, really, I just woke up and…they were gone. Had been gone for decades. I miss Han. I miss Luke…but…He left me there. He just…left me there to sleep for thirty years, so…” You let out a breath. “I try not to miss him more than he missed me.”

He nodded, listening quietly, hand still gently passing over your wing, the sensation soothing in indescribable ways. It had been so long since someone had touched you like that. If he kept at it, he would lull you right to sleep.

“But I like this life, too. I like training with Rey and Soren. I like making a difference again, fighting for something important. And someday, when the war is over, I’ll get to figure out what that peace looks like for me again.” You reached up, thumb gently grazing the skin beneath that tiny scar on his cheekbone. You pulled him to you, locking in a slow, sensual kiss. “I like you most of all, Poe Dameron.”

He smirked. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not.” You shook your head, eyes earnest. “You saved my life. You found that pendant. You woke me up. And every day since then, you’ve been finding little pieces of my heart I thought I’d lost decades ago.”

His lips captured yours again, breathing into it. They wandered, down your cheek, past your jaw, down to your neck again. You laced your fingers through his curls, relishing in the burn of his stubble against your skin.

“Maker, I’m so glad we found you…”

He whispered against the sensitive spot he’d found on your neck, the words echoing off the caverns of your mind. That voice. Those words.

It was him. Obviously it was, but the realization still struck you to your core. You’d dreamed of this, dreamed of him for years, and now he was finally yours.

Your pilot. Your Poe.

Can’t Change the Past, Starlight

You and Poe walked down to breakfast separately the next morning. He slipped out of your room carefully, watching for any techs that might be walking by, and hurrying from your room to his to change into some real clothes, as all he had in your room was the formal tunic Leia had loaned him. 

You timed your exit about fifteen minutes after, and ran into Rey and Finn in the hallway.

“How did it go?” Finn asked. “I was kind of worried. I never heard Poe come into the room last night.”

“Oh it was great. I’m sure we’ll hash it all out in the meeting later. Lots of new pledges, hopefully lots of new recruits, too. Ran into Lando Calrissian. He’s…an old friend.”

Rey’s jaw dropped. “The Lando Calrissian. Is he joining the Resistance?”

“He’s thinking about it.” You said with a smirk. “He’s always been hard to pin down, but I have a good feeling he’ll come around. Maker knows we could use his help.”

The canteen was bustling with folks, starting their day. Poe was sitting at the usual table with Rose. You grabbed some breakfast and slid into the seat across from him. A calculated move. He slid you a cup of caf, just the way you liked it.

“There you are. I was worried you’d gotten lost on the way to our room.” Finn said, searching Poe’s face. “Where’d you end up last night?”

“I…slept on the couch down in the lounge. Didn’t wanna wake you, we got back really late.” Poe lied.

Alright, you were officially doing this. You were officially hiding your relationship. It was kind of thrilling, you had to admit.

“Mmm.” Finn nodded, not buying it in the slightest. “Well, how’d it go?”

“Fantastic. (Y/N) has a real way with words.” Poe said, eyes sparkling. “Flipped the whole room, had everyone all fired up. We got so many new pledges and allies. It’s gonna take the droids forever to get all the files sorted.”

“Like I said, diplomatic training I never use.” You said with a shrug, taking a sip of caf.

“How’d you sleep?” Poe asked, meeting your eyes.

“Slept alright. Like you said, we got back late, so I didn’t get much of it.”

“Mmm. Sorry to hear that.” He said through a grin that he hid behind his mug. “I slept great.”

You kicked his leg under the table.

After breakfast, the group of you filed into the meeting, where you were somewhat surprised to see Lando, chatting with Leia. Once she spotted you, she motioned you over, hugging you tightly.

“I never doubted you, (Y/N), but I have to admit, I didn’t expect results like these. This changes everything.”

“I’m glad I could do my part, General.” You said, eyes glimmering. You turned to Lando. “Didn’t expect you to head here so fast.”

“How could I not? You need help. I should have been here a long time ago.” He said, slinging an arm around your shoulders. Just like old times. “I’m here for whatever you need, ladies. Just say the word.”

“Well right now, I need someone wrangling the new recruits. They need to be rounded up from outposts in the Outer Rim.” Leia said.

Lando saluted. “Just give me coordinates and a ship. I can make it happen.”

You left the two of them, turning to sit in your usual seat with the other Jedi. This meeting was a little more broad, more of the operatives from the middle ranks present in addition to the higher-ups.

Laesynda walked past, letting her hand brush on yours as she passed, a knowing smile on her face.

You avoided Poe’s gaze purposefully, but you could feel it on you from across the table. Business as usual, you supposed. He was always giving you those lovesick looks, but now there was something more in those warm brown eyes of his. You loved the feeling.

Leia started the meeting, opening with words of congratulations, the numbers from the previous night broken down in the projection on the holo in the middle of the room. The team burst into applause, several congratulative whoops and hollers sounding. Snap jostled Poe’s shoulder and he finally met your eyes, giving you that charming flyboy wink, handsome features illuminated in the teal light.

Leia moved to the next order of business, the intel Lando had been hard at work gathering. About Mariposas.

“The attack on Mariposas…I believe it was an inside job.” Lando said.

Your heart dropped into your stomach, ears ringing. You looked at Laesynda and she shared the same grim expression you were sure was on your face. You felt Poe’s eyes on you, watching as the rug was torn from beneath your feet.

“I don’t mean to impede on our celebration, I just…With three prominent Mariposans among our ranks, I think it’s a logical conclusion that…two of them were the targets of the original attack. So whoever tipped off the Empire splinter cells, if they’re still alive, could be interested in…”

“Finishing the job.” You said, suddenly exhausted.

“Yeah.” Lando nodded.

He brought up some diagnostics, a map of the planet, a breakdown of the attack. He talked those who were unfamiliar with it through what had happened. You watched as red bloomed across the Healer’s Temple, right where you were, blaster fire taking out the Refuge, where the Healers had retreated. A light attack up front to scare them, a heavy attack on their hiding spot to finish them off.

Immediately, you knew Lando was right. It was an inside job. Only someone who knew the innerworkings of the palace would have known the Healers retreated there in the case of an emergency. Someone who had grown up there, perhaps.

You bristled, watching as the attack continued, further details selling his point further. This was an attack that had been planned and executed by someone intimately familiar with your home. And someone who wanted you dead. Or at the very least, didn’t want you to wake up.

“Maddox.” The name left your mouth coated in venom. “My brother. Had to have been. Only the royal family would have known all of this, to exploit every weak spot in order.”

“Why would your brother…” Poe started, finally daring to speak up.

“He was jealous.” Laesynda said, the memories of him weighing her down, too. “Always jealous. He was the oldest, the heir to the throne. It still wasn’t enough for him. He was jealous (Y/N) was the Jedi of the family. Wanted it to be him.”

“Couldn’t have been our parents. I was asleep, Laesynda was ten. It had to have been Maddox.” You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “Maker, if he wanted me dead so bad, I don’t know why he didn’t just destroy my pod and kill me himself.”

“Because we were there.” Leia said, voice soft. “We were too late to stop the initial attack, but…Han and Lando got the shields up. I guarded your pod. Luke handled the cultists.”

You pressed your lips together, nodding. “Thank you.”

“By the time the fight was over, all of the Healers’ Pendants had been destroyed or…lost. We tried to use the Force to open your pod, but they were designed with that in mind. Only a healer could open it and they were…all gone.”

You took a long breath, nodding as she explained.

Lando looked at you, features apologetic. “And if he is indeed in the First Order, alive after all this time, it stands to reason that…he wouldn’t be happy that you’re awake again, your Highness.”

“Right. Do we have any…intel that he is? On either account, alive or currently working with the First Order?” You asked, adjusting your posture. Your wings twitched. Rey reached for your hand and you gave it to her, the touch comforting, albeit simple.

“Not yet, your Highness, but…We’re working to figure that out. I just wanted to make sure we were all on the same page.” Lando said, turning the holo off with a click. “Wanted to make sure we all kept our guards up.”

Leia ran the team through a few other things, mostly preparation for new Resistance members she was anticipating. New quarters would have to be prepared, they’d have to arrange supplies and prepare to train dozens, maybe hundreds, of rookies.

After the meeting, you met Poe’s eyes for a moment. And then, you walked back to your quarters, paces brisk. Uncharacteristic of you to just leave one so early with no discussion of meal plans, no chatter with your peers, to just…disappear. Anyone who knew you would know there was something wrong. And Poe knew you.

The door slid shut behind you and you sat on the mattress, letting out a strangled yell, head in your hands, knees tucked up into your chest and wings flaring out behind you.

Your heart raced in the silence after the scream. The force of it, the Force of you had rattled the trinkets sitting on your dressers. You took a few breaths, leaning back against the wall and staring at the ceiling panel, tears streaming down your cheeks.

The door slid open again and Poe slipped inside, closing it behind him. He melted when he saw you there, looking utterly pathetic, you were sure.

“Hey, baby. You okay? That was some heavy stuff.” He crossed the room, sitting on the bed.

You shook your head and reached for him. He pulled you into his arms immediately, a large hand cradling your head, the other wrapped tight around you, legs draped over his. You buried your face in his shoulder, sobs muffled by his warmth.

He started tracing comforting patterns in your back, letting you get it all out before attempting to talk you through it.

“I feel so stupid, crying about it. It happened so long ago…” You confessed, voice soft and broken.

“Not for you.” Poe reasoned, pressing a kiss to your hairline. One gentle hand found your cheek and he used his thumb to gently wipe your tears away. “Everyone here knows it’s still fresh for you. Of course you’re torn up about it, I would be, too.”

You nodded, sniffling. “I always knew he hated me, but…I guess I just never knew how much. I thought after Endor, everything would cool off. But it doesn’t sound like that’s the case. It was quiet for a while, sure, but…I wasn’t here when things started getting bad. I wasn’t here to help when things got worse…”

He listened, empathy rooted deep in his warm brown eyes. “You’re here now.”

“Yeah, but…”

“What happened, happened. We can’t change the past, starlight.” He said, readjusting his hold, one arm cradling you while the other nestled against your cheek, still gently dabbing at your tears as they fell. “I’m just glad you’re here now. For selfish and unselfish reasons. Rey needs you. I need you. You’ve got a lot of good to do here, and you’ve already done so much.”

You nodded, absorbing his words. He was right. He always seemed to be. “What do you have going on today? Is there somewhere you need to be?”

“It can wait. I’m needed here.” He promised, pressing a kiss to your nose, gentle smile turning mischievous with a quirk of his eyebrow. “Besides, they’ll never find me in here.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little. Poe never failed to bring a smile to your face, even when you were feeling like this.

“It’ll be alright, baby.” He reassured. The name still made your heart do flips in your chest. You much preferred it to your stuffy royal titles.

You sat further upright, kissing his soft pink lips. He kissed back, hand tilting your face just so with passionate precision. “I know it will. We’ll make sure of it this time.”

Rise of the Resistance

It wasn’t long before the new recruits started showing up. Lando ran what was akin to a shuttle service for a few weeks, running back and forth in a tiny transport, trying to avoid as much attention as possible. So far, it had worked.

The new folks were a bright bunch. Among them, Wedge Antilles, who had left behind his flight school, taking most of his pupils with him to help the cause.

“You know, as weird as this sounds, I missed it, Princess.” He admitted, hands on his hips, looking around the base, where soldiers ran in neat columns for their morning workout.

“Missed that Rebel air?”

He grinned. “Exactly that.”

Snap walked over, hugging him tightly and that was how you found out Wedge was Snap’s step-dad. Maker, it was a small galaxy after all. You and the other Jedi took a break from training, trying to help everyone get acclimated. You helped with giving tours, showed rookies where to get their breakfast and sleep, teaching them emergency protocol.

You set up a meditation room in an empty storage shed. It left something to be desired, but it was dimly lit, had some soft music playing, various toys and activities for Force training, cushions on the floor for those who could not float in the air while they meditated.

Aspen led some of the new recruits through while you were organizing your books.

“And this is Princess (Y/N) (L/N) of Mariposas, one of three Jedi we have on base.” She motioned to you. “If any of you think you might be Force-Sensitive, this is who you want to come to with questions.”

“We are always looking for new Jedi.” You said. “But this room is for everybody. If you need to get away for a bit, feel free to come here, do some meditation, read. It’s here for you. It gets rough out there, you need to take care of yourselves.”

Hours later, you had a tour group of your own, leading them through the comms center, then the mech workshop, droid repair, where BB-8 was getting a fresh paint job and beeped and whirred at you excitedly.

You led them past the hangar, where there were pilots milling around, about to head out on a perimeter check. Poe was there, stretching in that orange jumpsuit of his. You couldn’t fight the grin that formed when he spotted you, lighting up. He walked over, introducing himself to the group.

“Any pilots?” He asked, scanning your recruits, standing right next to you, hands on his hips, but his elbow brushing your side.

Professional. So, painfully professional.

“Reggie there.” You pointed him out and Reggie volunteered himself with a proud hand in the air.

“That’s the spirit. Welcome to the team, Reg.” He looked at you, glancing at your holo to take a peek at your schedule. “They’re not giving you too much trouble, I hope.”

“Nope, I’m all set with these guys. Bright bunch.” You replied, meeting those warm brown eyes, where mischief always seemed to sparkle.

“Right. Good. So, you don’t have anything penciled in after lunch?”

“I do not.” You confirmed.

“Alright. Well, uh, I’ve gotta hop in that X-Wing for perimeter checks. See you around, your Highness.” He promised, eyebrow quirked. He turned to Reggie. “Nice to meet you, Reggie. I’ll make sure you get acclimated.”

“Thank you, sir.” Reggie replied, starstruck.

You gave Poe a parting smile. Once the group had turned away, you glanced back. He motioned to the zipper of his jumpsuit, then looked at you with over-exaggerated expectation. Your jaw dropped and you rolled your eyes, laughing. Here in front of all of these people was not where you intended to use the Force to unzip his jumpsuit.

Still, you pinched your fingers together, focusing for a moment as you tugged it down the tiniest bit, just enough to tease him. He gasped, clearly not expecting you to actually do it. The way his eyes lit up, though, you could tell he was into it. Perhaps too into it.

The group didn’t notice, too busy buzzing about their future roles. Some of them were buzzing about other topics, like how hot your boyfriend was.

You moved them along to the next spot on the tour, but one of them pushed.

“Who was that?”

“Who, Commander Dameron?”

“He’s a Commander.” She giggled with the girl beside her. They couldn’t have been older than nineteen. It was kind of cute, admittedly. Harmless.

“Wow, he is something.” The other one agreed.

“Best pilot in the galaxy, in fact.” You chimed, heart surging with pride at your overly casual words. “I do think he’s seeing someone though, ladies.”

They both let out dramatic sighs. “Well, whoever they are, I hope they know how lucky they are.”

You chuckled, watching as his X-Wing pulled off into the air, doing a barrel roll right above the group. Now he was showing off. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t do something to you. “Oh she does.”

***

You ate lunch with Rey and Soren, welcoming a few of the new recruits to your table. Finn was busy with tours, too, training people to do various upkeep tasks around the base, keeping everything running smoothly. Poe was standing in the doorway and Rey looked up at him, then glanced at you, then back at him again.

“I think he’s trying to get your attention.” She chuckled, stabbing at the remains of her salad with a fork.

“Oh, is he?” You replied through a smile, still trying to keep up the act.

“I think he’s into you, you know. Finn and I talk about it sometimes.” She said, tone encouraging. “And he is his roommate. And his best friend.”

“Are you implying Finn has some information I should know?” You asked.

She laughed. “I very well may be. Honestly though, you should just go for it. I’ve never seen him look at anyone like that. May as well give it a shot.”

“Yeah.” You smiled at that. “Maybe I’ll go see what his deal is.”

“Good luck.” Rey said, watching as you crossed the room to where he was waiting in the doorway.

You met him with a cordial, professional smile. “Commander Dameron, is there something I can help you with?”

“Actually, yes, there is, Your Royal Highness.”

“Woah, busting out the big title? What’s the special occasion?”

“I was wondering if you’d like to take a walk down the hall with me.”

“Down the hall.” You said with a chuckle, pushing past him and leading him in that direction. Once you were out of earshot of the canteen, you muttered, “How romantic.”

“Oh I’ll show you romantic, Princess.” He replied, tugging open a closet door and grabbing your arm, pulling you inside. He locked the door with a careful click and then he was on you, calloused hands on your cheeks, lips fluid and hungry.

“Poe,” you mumbled into his lips, taken aback, heart revving like an engine.

“You wanna unzip it the rest of the way?” He asked, the rasp in his voice alone telling you he had been thinking about it all morning.

“That did something to you, huh?” You giggled into his mouth as he latched back on, his steps pushing until you hit the wall behind you.

“Sure did.” He agreed, releasing you and holding his arms open, orange jumpsuit there and ready for you, zipped nearly to the top. “Do it.”

“You sure?” You asked, raising a hand, wiggling your fingers with a coy smile on your face.

“Quit teasin’ me, baby.” He warned.

You bit back a laugh, focusing the zipper. You pinched your fingers together and pulled downwards, the zipper falling at your will without either of you touching it. He stared at it for a long moment, that  dangerous spark in his eyes again before he surged forward.

“That is…wow.” He murmured, fire behind his words. One hand cupped your cheek, the other holding your waist as he stepped closer, closer, closer, slotting himself between your legs.

You grabbed the sides of the jumpsuit, pulling it open, working it down his broad shoulders to reveal the thin white undershirt beneath. On top of it, the silver chain he always wore, a simple silver ring threaded through it. A ring you recognized as Shara’s.

“Rey and I had a…conversation…at lunch.” You said between kisses.

“Mmhmm, ‘bout what?” He asked, tilting your head and kissing down your neck. His other hand roamed lower, brushing across one of your wings, sending tingles up your arms.

You let out a shuttered breath, head tilting back against the wall. “She thinks…” another sigh escaped you as he continued to kiss the spot, jaw movements clouding your vision with stars, “you might be into me.”

His lips curled, poised over the vein on your neck. He paused for a moment. “Oh she does, does she?”

“Yeah, she has it on pretty good authority, apparently.” You said, daring to look down at him, at those dark, sultry eyes.

“Yeah, well, she’s not far off.” He breathed, going back in for your neck, determined to leave a mark in the short window of time you had before you and Soren were doing your ground perimeters. “I’m fucking obsessed with you, starlight.”

You moaned at his passioned ministrations on your neck, fingers threading through those lucious curls and giving a gentle tug. His hands hooked under your thighs and he hoisted you onto his hips, your back pressed against the wall of the tiny closet.

You met his eyes, breathless, wings fanned out behind you. “I can’t believe I get to have you, Poe Dameron.”

“Believe it.” He asserted, nose brushing against yours on the way to your lips. You cupped his cheeks with your hands, kissing all over his face before returning. “Kriff, I still wake up every day in disbelief that I get to do this in a closet with a Jedi Princess.”

“We won’t be in closets forever.” You whispered, eyes locking on his. It was a promise. Someday, everyone would know. It wouldn’t have to be a secret anymore.

He nodded, grinned. “Yeah, but…it is kinda thrilling, right?”

“Can’t argue with that.”

His eyes drifted down to your neck and he pulled a plush pink lip between his teeth, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Hey, uhhh…you have a turtleneck you can wear, right?”

Your jaw fell open. “You did not.”

“I might’ve.”

“You might’ve?” You shook your head. “Poe Dameron, what am I going to do with you?”

He pressed his forehead to yours, eyes half-lidded, lips ghosting across yours as he whispered, “More of this, I hope.”

***

Another week came and went. More recruits arrived, but things had hit something of a plateau. Still, your numbers were excellent, a far cry from the shell of a Resistance that had been left after Crait.

Poe was giving the new pilots a walk around the base, all of them suited up in their bright orange jumpsuits, having been fitted for them for the first time. You and Soren were out and about, dressed in your Jedi robes, lightsabers clipped to your belts. You must have just finished some training, he rationalized.

He noticed how some of the pilots in his group stared, watching the two of you with interest. He figured many of them had probably never seen a Jedi before. Hell, he hadn’t until Rey had moved those rocks from the mouth of the tunnel they’d all been trapped inside on that blasted salt planet.

“Is that one the Jedi Princess or the other Jedi?” one of the new pilots asked, voice hushed, as though you could hear his very thoughts at that distance.

“That one is the princess. You can tell by the wings.” Snap explained. “Poe’s good friends with her.”

Good friends. He thought to himself with a chuckle. Just like you and Karé are “good friends.”

“Is she single? Could you put in the good word?” another asked, earning elbows and enthusiastic hollers from his teammates.

Snap laughed out loud, glancing over at Poe, who could feel his ears burn. Cheeks, too.

“Oh, uhhh, Jedi actually aren’t allowed to fall in love.” He lied through a charming smile. “Believe me, I asked her myself. Breaks some ancient Jedi code or something. Sorry, fellas.”

The rookie pilots let out noises of disappointment and Poe couldn’t help but laugh to himself. There. That’d keep them off of you.

“They’re not, huh?” Snap asked, voice quiet enough that the others couldn’t hear. He motioned to you with his head. “Might want to tell her that.”

Snap was right. Poe glanced over and you were looking at him with that starry-eyed gaze. So lovesick he lost track of his footing, tripping right over BB-8, who had been rolling in front of him.

“Poe!”

Bee let out a series of disgruntled beeps and buzzes and he chuckled, embarrassed. He scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry, Bee. You okay, buddy?”

Bee beeped up at you, seemingly unharmed. He was a sturdy little guy, after all.

“I agree, he needs to watch where he’s going.” You said, hands on your hips. You offered one, helping him to his feet. “You hear that, Dameron?”

“Loud and clear, your Highness.” He chuckled, brushing himself off.

“No serious damage?”

“Not that I can find.” Poe blew the hair from his eyes.

You reached up and plucked a single leaf from his curls, handing it to him. “There. For your collection.”

“Thanks, I’ll put it with the rest of ‘em.” He said with a smirk. Poe turned to the assembled rookies, who were murmuring amongst themselves. “Pilots, Princess (Y/N), Princess (Y/N), our new crop of pilots. Get acquainted with her. If you crash in the middle of a fight, she’s the one that’s gonna catch your X-Wing.”

“If it doesn’t blow up before that.” Snap added, earning a few unsettled laughs from the group.

It was a dangerous job. You’d always known that. You liked to think that you helped protect them when you could. When it was possible to. But Poe was always taking a risk when he climbed into that cockpit, even for something as simple as checking perimeters. He knew it, too, which is what made him so damn brave.

“Right. That.” Poe agreed with a bitter chuckle. “How was training?”

“Good. Making progress.” You said, shrugging. You and Soren hadn’t done anything groundbreaking, just sparring. But still, it felt good, like you were both making habits, challenging each other and learning little quirks of battle.

“Good. Good. Well, see ya around.” He gave your arm an awkward little touch.

You couldn’t help but laugh as you returned to Soren, who had a knowing look on his face. You knew then that he knew. That that Jedi intuition had finally clocked what was going on. But he didn’t say anything. Saved you the trouble of explaining yourself, why you were hiding it. 

The Resistance had enough going on. They didn’t need the drama of one of the Jedi entangled with their ace pilot. Especially if something went wrong.

Tags: @cap-lu20