#Poe Dameron x medic!reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

grumpyeagleandfriends · 8 months

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À Terre II | Poe Dameron x OC/Reader

A/N: Reader is a Resistance pilot that was captured during a solo reconnaissance mission. They escape by hijacking a ship. Gravely injured and hanging by a thread, they rejoin the Resistance by crash landing just outside of the base on D'Qar. A certain distraught squadron leader runs out to help.

Hurt/Comfort. Gratuitous, self-serving one shot TWO PART story. I have rewritten the first chapter in addition to adding on a second installment. This time it's in Poe's POV. I don’t like using “y/n” so I give the reader a generic, 1 syllable Star Wars name in the middle of this bad boy. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I’ve been daydreaming about this for months years, so I finally decided to write it all out. There’s a little bit of a long set up, but I’m not sorry about it.

Rating: T

Warnings: Mentions blood and torture. Shellshock/PTSD vibes. Cursing. Tons of graphic medical stuff. Injections (so needles).

Word count: 5,439

Masterlist

Blood was everywhere when he finally made it inside the cockpit...

Even after he got her free from the safety harness, when all he could do was keep her calm and alert until the med techs arrived, he noticed the way she looked at him, the way she pulled it together to focus every time she nearly fell asleep. Hol hadn’t been able to properly talk, but with every command he gave her, she nodded and tried her best to comply.

The metallic iron smell of it nearly knocked him back when he opened the canopy. It covered everything. Her shaking hands, her hair, her flight suit, he even found it coating the inside of her mouth after he coaxed her to let him take away the life support mask.

He desperately wanted to give her water to see if she could drink, but there wasn’t any to be found in the cockpit. He wanted to put her in one of his jackets to help stop her from shaking, but the patch of trees she crashed landed into was too far from his quarters on base. He wanted to scream at her for being so goddamn stubborn, but he couldn’t shake the way she desperately clutched onto his hand.

They hadn't been careful enough when extracting her. There wasn't enough time to wait for proper immobilization equipment to be brought out to the crash site. Between Hol's blood loss and the ship leaking dangerous fluids into the forest, they made the difficult call to just move.

Seeing that utmost trust in her eyes, alongside the fear and the pain, was what really scared him the most. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he let her die there, not after she clawed her way back to them.

He had no way of knowing at that moment, but the jostling when they lifted her out caused a broken rib to puncture one of her lungs. Poe couldn’t keep from blaming himself for his own role in that.

The second they placed her onto the hover gurney, her condition began to rapidly deteriorate. One of the med techs caught sight of her blue fingertips and immediately diagnosed a collapsed lung. Poe only just managed to clamber out of the cockpit to see it all. He stood frozen on the wing of the ship while he watched them cut open her flight suit to reveal her bloated chest. The bright glow of a laser scalpel quickly appeared and they made an emergency incision between her ribs to let the trapped air escape.

Once they got her breathing again, she was loaded onto the back of the waiting med truck and they took off. Poe was left to follow behind on the back of a ship technician's speeder bike.

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

He sprinted into the medbay only a few moments after Hol was rushed in on the hover gurney. Bypassing the waiting area and going directly through the sliding double doors was unusually easy. In hindsight it should have struck him as odd that no one stopped him, but the overstretched med staff meant that no one paid him any mind when he planted himself against the back wall in triage.

As promised, Kalonia’s team was already primed and waiting to receive her. Poe had to crane his neck to be able to see, but he counted at least seven different med techs helping transfer her over to the exam bed.

They began working like a well calibrated machine, her dirty flight suit was sliced open and quickly stripped away. As soon as they were connected, the more sophisticated diagnostic scanners lit up and began displaying the worst of her injuries. Images of her chest cavity were produced on a monitor near the end of the exam bed, along with her vitals.

From where he stood, Poe was able to catch Hol’s foot beginning to subtly twitch. He wondered initially if he had just imagined the movement, but the surrounding med staff began to take notice as well.

“Eyes are beginning to flutter, she might be starting to come around.”

Dr. Kalonia took a step back as her staff continued their work. She pulled aside the young medic who had been down in the cockpit with Poe. He began rattling off the details of Hol’s condition when found and how exactly she was transported. After a couple of minutes he began gesturing over his shoulder in Poe’s direction, causing Kalonia to promptly look up. Her eyes narrowed when she caught sight of him standing back by the door.

Shit…

His back stiffened in preparation for an argument that never came.

“Dameron, get over here!”

She issued the instruction like an admiral as she pointed him over to the top of the exam bed.

He didn't think, he just immediately crossed over. The moment he was within reach, she grabbed hold of his arm and brought him to stand where she was.

“Do exactly what you did down at the crash site, alright? Talk to your pilot. Keep her calm.”

Hol’s head gently lolled to the side on the padded exam table, her face slack and eyes half-lidded. She went still once more just as he took his place. He cupped her face in his hands, noting how cool and clammy her skin felt against his palms.

Kalonia stood to his right, a penlight ready in her hand to test the reaction of her patient’s pupils.

“C’mon, Tarmin…” She called while carefully tugging open Hol’s eyelid.

Immediately, there was a weak moan, greatly muffled by the respirator mask. Hol tried to roll away from the touch, but Poe’s hands braced either side of her head.

“Hey, hey- it's okay. Easy, kid, easy.” He whispered, holding her in place just long enough for Kalonia to work.

“Settle down, Lieutenant.” The doctor spoke as she pulled away. “You crash landed on D’Qar. You’re in medical.”

Poe didn't let go once she finished. He continued cradling Hol's head, his short nails scratching at her scalp in some attempt at providing comfort.

Her body was fully exposed under the surgical lights, revealing the extent of the damage that he wasn't able to see back in the cockpit. The bruising along her abdomen and rib cage was mostly black, as if there were large ink blots staining her skin. There were blaster grazes on her right side, localized swelling where her right forearm was clearly fractured, wounds in her lower abdomen...

So much of it jumped out at once, he found it hard to focus on any one injury long enough. He began to wonder just what sort of state she was in before the crash.

Hol emitted another faint groan, one where he could distinctly hear a wheezing sound that came from deep in her chest. Her body jerked from the force of a cough. Red flecks of blood appeared inside the clear respirator mask.

Slowly, she began to blink against the lights. A worry line formed in the center of her forehead.

"No...n-no… "

It was hoarse and strained, but everyone standing around caught the audible plea. Hol's good hand suddenly lifted in an attempt to bat away those touching her.

Dr. Kalonia cursed.

"Restrain her! I'm trying to insert a chest catheter here!”

Padded white cuffs were produced and promptly attached around each of her limbs, securing her to the exam bed.

"Hol, look at me." Poe commanded. He cupped her jaw as he leaned directly over her, giving her no choice but to comply. He made himself the only thing she had to look at. His shadow worked to shield her eyes from the glaring overhead lights while also blocking her view of the med staff.

Her gaze was glassy and unfocused, but she was thankfully looking at him.

"You've got to relax." He urged, his hand smoothing her tangled hair back off her face as he spoke. "We’re trying to patch you up, alright? Let us help."

She blinked at the sound of his voice, and though the distress on her face didn't fade, she went still on the exam bed. Her eyes remained set in his direction.

"There you go, sunshine..." Poe quietly praised, using once again the affectionate name he knew she absolutely hated. "Keep those eyes on me, don't worry about anything else."

His attention never left her, but he was aware that Kalonia and another med tech were beginning to work at prepping the incision site to insert the chest tube. He wasn't convinced that Hol recognized who he was or even that she was somewhere safe, but he couldn't risk her getting freaked out by the procedure being performed on her chest.

There was still visible fear in her eyes, but she never looked away from him. Her struggling thankfully ceased as she began to lean into one of his palms bracing the side of her face.

"You're safe, you know that?" He found himself reminding her. The pads of his thumbs traced over the outer shells of her ears, trying again to ease the visible discomfort he saw etched in her face. "Promise you, babe. You're good, we've got you."

Hol winced before swallowing. His brow furrowed as he watched her lips suddenly part.

“Poe…"

Her voice was painfully raw, and normally the sound of her saying his name would have been reason for relief, but he only worried that she was wasting her energy trying to talk.

“Yeah, hey, Hol.” He greeted in a whisper, dipping just enough to brush his lips to her hairline. "It's me. I'm right here."

He frowned when she tried to say something more, something longer and impossible to parse.

"Shh-hey, no, that's enough. Don't want you to talk anymore." He gently scolded. "We’re going to do like before, okay? You relax while I run my mouth.”

Poe doubted she remembered their conversation down in the cockpit, but she thankfully fell silent. Her eyes remained on him as he kept quietly talking to her, blabbering on about how lucky she was to get out of briefings and inventory duty for the next few weeks, about how she was going to sit back on the medbay's best painkillers and watch the trashiest holovids he could find.

He knew deep down that she probably wasn't following him entirely, but he was trying to reassure himself at this point more than her. He was keenly aware that none of what he was saying was guaranteed, but he had to give himself something to hold on to, because imagining anything else simply was not an option for him.

She had to pull through this.

She had to be fine.

Minutes passed like that, Hol's unfocused gaze trained on Poe's face as he worked at keeping her distracted. Kalonia was able to successfully insert the temporary catheter into Hol's chest, which would assure the function of her uninjured lung until they could patch up the other.

Poe listened closely as a medtech outlined all of the crucial information, providing him with the rough plan of how her treatment would proceed. Once they finished stabilizing her most grave injuries, she would be taken back for surgery. There would be some additional testing after, which would take a couple of hours...

The explanation suddenly stopped short when an alarm began to sound from one of the machines. The level of the urgency in the room immediately started to bubble over.

"Heart rate is increasing!" Someone announced.

Poe visibly paled as he watched Hol's eyes roll backward. His hands still bracing her head, he desperately looked up at the med staff, searching for some kind of instruction.

"Dameron, out!"

Kalonia swooped in and firmly shouldered him out of the way.

Before he could object, a med droid approached and began to usher him towards the door.

"Doc, what's going on?" He demanded, sidestepping the mechanical arms reaching for his shirt. "What's wrong?"

His question went ignored. Hold was entirely obscured from his view. There were too many people now surrounding the exam bed.

"She's seizing! Start anticonvulsants and prepare for a transfusion!"

"Master Dameron, the team needs to prepare the patient for surgery. You must leave."

The med droid's pincers whirred as it closed in on Poe.

"Don't tell me what I have to do!" He snapped, the outline of his jaw more pronounced as he spoke through clenched teeth.

In a moment of sheer stupidity, he pushed back hard against the unforgivingly solid metal chest. He clearly forgot that these droids were built to easily lift the deadweight of critically ill patients of any species.

The mechanical arms tightly wrapped around him, securing his own arms to his sides. They closed, crushing him flush against the droid's metal body. The gesture was completed so quickly that he could feel the air being forced out of his own chest.

Poe feebly kicked, but it was useless. The droid easily hauled him back out through the double doors and towards the waiting area.

________________________

The word about who crash-landed into the trees traveled like wildfire across base. All of black squadron, Finn, BB-8, several of the x-wing techs and pilots from various outfits formed a large group just outside of the medbay. Each of them had duties elsewhere that they were purposefully ignoring, choosing out of loyalty to be present while one of their own hung in some grave state between life and death. They were the ones who threw back countless drinks in the mess hall together, who organized a massive fantasy Gravball league that nearly sent the entire Resistance into chaos, and who pooled their commissary credits to throw each other birthday parties.

They were all present to witness the painful moment Poe was forcibly escorted out of the sliding double doors leading to triage.

"Shit!-alright, alright! Let go!" His shouts ricocheted down the hallway as he finally managed to yank himself free. The force of the motion caused him to promptly fall to the floor.

The others watched as he quickly scrambled up from the ground, stumbling and hurrying to kick at the back of the retreating med droid.

He missed, which only served to enrage him further. The doors promptly closed behind the droid and Poe spun around— his mouth set in a tight line while he began to inexplicably search his surroundings. His chest rose and fell for several beats. His face twisted into a sneer before he abruptly lashed out at the nearest object, sending a trashcan flying with his boot. The steel barrel was thankfully empty, but the sharp clang sent a shockwave across the medbay.

The few people waiting in the sitting area immediately stood up to vacate the space.

Finn was the first to take a step forward to intervene, but he was halted by a large hand on his arm. He turned his head to see Snap, skin still humid as if he came straight from the refresher.

"Best to stand back and let it pass." The pilot urged with a sad shake of his head. "His scenes are never pretty."

Finn didn't want to agree, but as he stood and watched the scene unfolding before them he couldn't find any reason to argue. Snap and the others would know better. They did know.

Poe’s hands were pressed to the back of his head, his fingers laced together as he glared at the closed doors. He could have easily pushed his way back through, but he inexplicably remained where he stood. His eyes shot a deadly amount of spite toward whatever was happening on the other side of those doors— information that, for the time being, only he knew.

His arms fell heavily to his sides. Ignoring the uneasy looks following him, he turned and traipsed over to the first row of waiting chairs, silently throwing himself down onto one of the seats.His legs stretched out while he leaned back, his arms folded over his chest.

He continued to stare at the doors, a hard glint in his eyes for the faceless goliath wrecking untold damage on the other side.

The others slowly filtered over to join him in the waiting area. A supportive hand would occasionally grip his shoulder or linger on his knee, but no one said anything. Those unvoiced questions sat heavy above their heads.

BB-8 remained near Poe’s feet, unusually still and silent.

Hours grudgingly crawled by. The light outside faded away and began to just barely creep back over the horizon when someone finally came out to speak to them.

Poe was the only one to be escorted back behind the double doors. Dr. Kalonia stood there waiting for him, still dressed in some of her surgical garb. Thankfully, her mask was off, because her facial expression alone was able to answer his most crucial question.

She was alive.

Kalonia began to turn before she motioned for him to come along.

"Follow me, Dameron..."

________________________

They walked together down the main hallway of the medical wing, back to where Poe knew the overnight patient beds were located. He remained silent as Kalonia gave the run through of everything— what exactly happened when he was forced out of triage and what they were able to correct during surgery. Internal bleeding was what caused Hol to begin seizing. They performed a blood transfusion that stabilized her enough to undergo surgery, but they hadn’t been confident that she would make it through. The surgery itself took hours, but they were successfully able to localize and stop the bleeding in her abdomen and patch up her punctured lung. They installed a more substantial drainage tube in her chest to allow excess air and fluids to escape so her lung could continue to heal.

She would need to be kept asleep so her body could focus on repairing itself, but Kalonia was going to let Poe see her while they performed some additional tests.

They came to a stop just before the smallest room along the hallway. Due to space constraints on base, most of the rooms along this corridor housed multiple beds. This room was only for patients in a bad enough state to justify being kept isolated from others.

Kalonia stood aside to let him enter first.

They had Hol lying half-covered on an exam bed, her chest was mostly obscured by bandages. The first thing he noticed was that she was clean now, so much so that it made his head spin.

It shouldn’t have been such a surprise, because of course they were going to scrub away the blood and grime before putting her on fresh bedding. But still, the contrast from when he found her sitting strapped in that downed ship was startling.

Several machines were attached to her body. She was hooked up to a respirator and receiving fluids intravenously, but Poe also caught sight of the aforementioned drainage tube extending from a patch of bandages in her side. It ran all the way over the edge of the bed into a receptacle on the floor. Her injured arm was wrapped in bacta strips and immobilized with a splint.

He remained a few feet away from her bed, a distance that he decided would be safe, because it felt too dangerous to touch her. His eyes slowly took in every piece of equipment being used to keep her stable, at first he began to count but stopped himself when he reached double digits.

His brow furrowed the moment he noticed the padded white cuffs still attaching Hol's wrists to the bed frame.

"Why is she still strapped down?" He demanded, his voice oddly distorted from hours of not speaking.

"It’s just a precaution for now.” Kalonia began to explain, seeming to choose her words cautiously. “She’s still on anticonvulsants to help reduce the likelihood of further seizures, but even while sedated there are still some tremors. With the location of the drainage tube we can’t risk her moving too violently or ripping it out when she wakes.”

Poe blinked, taking a moment to process the information.

"How long does she have to keep the tube?”

“No more than 2 to 3 days.”

He nodded while he chewed on his lower lip, his eyes still trained on Hol.

“Look, Dameron…”

She interrupted his thoughts in a gentle tone that was meant to be comforting, but it only made the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight. Dr. Kalonia was known for ruthlessly running the medbay like a battleship. They went back far too long, he knew to brace for the worst whenever she started to go soft.

Poe turned to face her, the pit of dread he felt low in his stomach was only growing. He would have given anything in that moment for them to fall into their traditional roles, for him to be the one injured and for her to be yelling at him. - Dammit, Dameron! Either make yourself useful or get the hell out of my medbay!

But she only continued to speak in that horribly gentle tone.

“As Tarmin’s commanding officer, there is something else that you should know.”

She walked him around to the opposite side of the bed, where there was noticeably less tubing.

“During the examination before her surgery, I noticed some smaller injuries that made me order full lab work.”

He watched as she lifted the bit of blanket covering Hol’s legs.

“I found infected injection sites on the insides of her arms and thighs, then these small circular burns on her ankles.”

Immediately Poe began to understand the rationale behind her delicate words.

He'd seen those marks on more than a few Resistance members who managed to escape capture. He sported similar ones himself after being captured on Jakku...after the Finalizer.

“We found traces of antipsychotics, nerve agents, and truth serum in her system.” Kalonia continued to explain.

He bowed his head as he listened, the sour taste of bile was creeping up in the back of his mouth. He pinched the bridge of his nose while the facts began to register in his mind. His teeth clamped down on the inside of his cheek, he forced himself to slowly exhale.

"There are chafe marks on her body from restraints. The partial break to her humerus looks like it's from prolonged strain during intero—"

He couldn’t let her fully pronounce the word.

"Alright!”

He didn't have it in him to yell anymore, but the tension in his voice filled the space like a streak of lightning.

To her credit, Kalonia never flinched at the sound. She stood patiently, unwavering, her face neutral as she watched him. An uneasy silence settled over the room.

He took a shaky breath, being mindful to adjust his tone before continuing.

“It’s okay.” He spoke softly, voice trembling despite his efforts. “I-I got it, Doc.”

He turned to face away as he desperately tried to calm the tightening in his throat. The corners of his eyes were sharply stinging. The best he could do to regain control was to continue biting down hard on the inside of his mouth, inhaling and exhaling through his nose.

After a couple of minutes he scrubbed both hands over his stubbled face. With the heels of his palms he rubbed at his eyes until he saw stars. Slowly, much too slowly for his liking, he was able to push his own agony down enough to recenter.

Poe turned to face Kalonia once more. He cleared his throat.

“She's not going to be in too much pain when she wakes up?” He demanded. “You can keep her comfortable, right?”

She pointed his attention to the IV stand by the head of the exam bed.

"I can't promise when she wakes up that she won't be in some pain, but we can adjust the medication through her drip and it'll take effect almost immediately."

He nodded. His hand combed through his hair before he slowly approached the bedside once more.

Poe stood and watched Hol's face for several minutes. He searched hard for any signs of movement or distress but found nothing. Her features were mercifully still and serene for the moment. She was protected under the fog of artificial sleep.

“How long are you going to keep her under?”

The question was spoken in a near whisper.

“Depends on her vitals, but at least a day, maybe two.”

Kalonia took the time to show him her vitals displayed on the monitor near the head of the bed, providing a brief explanation of what the numbers currently meant. For the moment, everything hovered just barely inside the acceptable range. It was far from ideal, but it was at least temporarily stable. They would have to see over the next few days how she progressed.

While standing there together, they witnessed a ripple of stiff movement pass through Hol’s limbs.

“Whoa…” Poe visibly straightened, alarm written on his face as he began to think the worst.

Kalonia’s hand found his arm.

“Those movements aren’t another seizure.” She assured him. “It’s a residual effect from nerve agent exposure. Think of it like the nerves in her body recalibrating.”

Poe nodded in quiet understanding, but all he could think about was the excuse Kalonia gave him earlier for keeping Hol restrained— how she didn’t want her to hurt herself. There was some logic behind it, he could admit that much. But now that he knew some of what happened to her, he could barely stomach the idea.

They allowed him to stay in Hol’s room overnight. Kalonia had a cot brought in for him to sleep on, but only under the condition that he promised two things: to use the refresher across the hall and to actually get some sleep.

When he was finally alone with her he felt oddly numb. There in the nearly dark ward of the medbay, he stood over Hol’s bed and just watched her. It took several minutes for him to work up the courage to approach, but he did it. His hand briefly rested on the metal railing, as if he was grounding himself before he finally reached to touch her.

His fingers snaked between her own as he slotted his hand over her's. Immediately he realized that her skin felt strangely warm, prompting him to reach up and feel the side of her face. A quick look at her vitals confirmed his suspicions, she had a low-grade fever beginning to form.

Poe made a note to point it out to one of the medtechs when they would come to make their rounds. He touched her hand once more before he stepped back to take a seat on the unfolded cot.

From there he watched her rest. He felt the heavy pull of exhaustion on his body, but sleep was the last thing he wanted for himself. His mind was all over the place, thinking about too many things at once.

Leia would come to visit her soon. He knew that much. Once she was past the worst and strong enough to speak, they would make her issue a report and do a formal debrief in front of Leia and her counsel.

It would be long and grueling. She would have to relive everything in great detail and be thoroughly questioned. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know all of the facts himself, but he definitely knew that he didn’t want to put her through having to recount it too many times. Those meetings were meant to be classified, but it wouldn’t take long before everyone would know.

Poe so desperately wished that he could save her from that part—when everyone on base would begin to look at her differently. He knew that it was inevitable though. While he sat there next to her bed, watching over her while she slept, he could only think about what was to come.

He knew that for however long she stayed asleep in this room, she was at least protected from all that was waiting out there. The thought comforted him some, even if it was only temporary.

He also knew that the two of them needed to talk about a lot of things once she woke up.

Her position in Black Squadron needed to be rethought. It was a massive understatement to say that her flying under him was unethical. Before Hol left for Batuu they tried to be discreet about their relationship. They both told themselves that they were doing a good enough job keeping things secret, a delusion that went well past the point of denial. They thought their regular heated arguments in front of the others and their general refusal to touch each other would provide ample cover, but their sneaking off to fuck in supplies closets hadn't always been the most covert. But now that she was back, Poe was ready to throw discretion out the window.

There were without a doubt other positions for her as a pilot, other opportunities, but it was going to be difficult convincing her. Making her understand that it wasn’t a punishment would be delicate.

He would talk it over with Leia, with some of the other squadron leaders. He would confess that he was the one in the wrong, and readily accept whatever disciplinary action came his way. They would figure something out for Hol. They had to.

Poe knew he also owed her an apology. He could have handled things differently when she volunteered for the mission, he could have spoken his mind while remaining supportive. His only memories of that conversation were just of him dressing her down, desperately trying to pull rank as a last ditch effort to keep her from leaving by herself.

The truth was that he was so fucking proud of her. During the weeks she was gone he had been livid, walking around with anger bubbling under his skin at all times. But now all he wanted was for her to hear how proud he felt, because he didn't want to leave her with those memories of their final argument.

She kept her head cool and found her way back. She survived whatever hell she fell into and fought her way out. He still couldn’t wrap his head around how she managed to pull off the execution of that landing. She had one broken arm, was trying to evade being hit with no comms system, all while coming in on fumes.

A medtech came by a couple of hours later, which woke Poe out of a light sleep.

He sat up and watched from his cot as they administered medication, checked the tubes and wires around her body to make sure nothing was out of place.

He mentioned the fever, which thankfully hadn't climbed any higher. They started her on another course of antibiotics.

“She looks peaceful, doesn’t she?” They asked him at one point.

The very moment he heard the word a bitter taste spread across his entire tongue, making his mouth twist downward in a frown. He knew they meant well enough, but his head still snapped around to look at them in disbelief.

Because "peaceful" had never been Hol.

Conniving.

Stubborn.

Impulsive.

A pain in his ass.

There were easily ten dozen choice adjectives he and quite a few others on this base could use to describe Hol Tarmin, but peaceful was definitely not one.

Peaceful was a word that people used to describe the dead.

And his girl wasn’t fucking dead.

The very idea was something he couldn’t dwell on for too long, because of the way his foundation had very nearly crumbled during those weeks she was gone. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt panic the way he had at the crash site, thinking at any moment he would be forced to helplessly watch while she slipped away from him, like watching water slowly leak out of his cupped hands.

It felt selfish to have those thoughts while she was lying there in front of him, but he was keenly aware of how impossibly lucky they were to get her back — how impossibly lucky he was.

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psychosith · 10 months

Text

Just Admiring

Din Djarin x reader, Poe Dameron x reader (seperate)

summary: you’re touching up your appearance in their visor and they sit back to admire you

warnings: fluff? idk

a/n: this is based off a request by @raechu11, though i altered it a bit to include my boy poe cuz i feel like he doesn’t get enough love😔 another rushed piece but y’all already know writers block is hitting me like a cement brick rn sooo

Din Djarin

You’re on a supplies run on Coruscant, sleep deprived and sore after a thrilling mission in the outer rim. Din had gone to a weapons shop a few blocks away, and you were getting some medical supplies for your kit on the ship. After picking up some bandages and bacta, you headed to the rendezvous point, a nearby cantina.

The atmosphere in the cantina was loud and distracting, but you managed to snag a quiet booth in the corner where Din found you a few minutes later. He slid into the seat next to you and you two ordered something to eat. Well, you ordered something to eat. Din insisted he wasn’t hungry yet still offered to pay for your meal.

The food was nothing spectacular, as to be expected in a dingy cantina like this, and it was messy. Sauce spilled out onto your plate and eventually, your face. You searched around for a napkin and found one to wipe your mouth with. “Alright,” you say, turning back to Din. “Ready to head out.”

Din hesitates a little, before gesturing to where his mouth would be. “You have a little…” he says.

“Oh,” you say. Your face flushes red as you turn away in embarrassment before an idea pops into your head. You turn to face Din and glimpse yourself in the oddly reflective visor of his helmet.

You swipe at the bit of sauce on your lip and reach into your pockets and grab a tin of lip salve. Facing back towards Din, you apply the salve and take another few seconds to fix your hair, generally touching up your appearance. Din doesn’t move once throughout this entire endeavor, it seems he’s transfixed. You can hear a soft laugh from Din’s helmet, and his shoulders shake slightly to accompany the sound.

“Something funny?” you ask. His head tilts slightly as he relaxes and lets himself live in the moment.

“Not at all. Just… admiring.”

Poe Dameron

(omg the way hes looking at the person in this gif someone sedate me)

The last strike against the Empire had been entirely unsuccessful. You had lost valuable men and resources that day, and it was time to do damage control. General Organa was coming down to your base to help, and there was roughly five minutes until you would be meeting with her. Unfortunately, you had also just gotten back from a small dogfight with a couple of imperial TIE fighters on one of this planet’s many moons. You and Poe had managed to take them all down, but now you were sweaty and flushed from the exertion. You were sure you had a bad case of helmet hair and you had no time to change from your suit.

Poe offered to walk you to the meeting, still in his flight suit and helmet still on. When you’re finally at the door to the meeting room he offers some words of encouragement. “Don’t be nervous,” he says with that trademark smirk, “I’m sure you’ll survive.”

“Wow, thanks,” you respond, sarcasm heavy in your tone. “How do I look?”

Without thinking, you start looking into his helmet visor and smoothing out your flyaway hairs. You comb through your hair with your fingers and start to impulsively flatten your tousled flight suit.

When your eyes unfocus from your own reflection, you meet Poe’s warm brown ones. His eyes dance across your features as he looks you up and down, and all of a sudden you become sheepish at the thought of him watching you. “What, do I have something on my face?”

“No,” he says. His hand moves to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “I was just admiring.”

“Oh,” you say.

“You look beautiful.”

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin imagines #din djarin fic #din djarin fluff #din djarin one shot #star wars #star wars x reader #poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron fluff #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron one shot #poe dameron smut #din djarin smut

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downbadf0rficppl · 8 months

Text

i didn't mean to love you so much

Poe Dameron x F!Reader

Summary: You don't know what you have until it's gone. Or is it?

Word Count: 6.0K

Repost

It took 3 days to arrive on D'Qar.

The Naboo N-1 Starfighter that you stole from the junkyard on Bracca was one wrong move away from falling out of the sky. Even with your constant mid-flight repairs, only prayers to the Maker were keeping her together. The BB unit you found kept you posted with constant, and frankly worrying, updates on how the ship was holding. Let's just say the plane was soon to be out of use.

When you entered the atmosphere in D'Qar, the landing gear erupted into flames, eliciting a series of explicit beeps from the BB unit. If not for the life-or-death in front of you, you would have burst into a fit of giggles.

Instead, you just grit your teeth: "Happy beeps, bud."

You and the BB unit left the carnage that used to be a starfighter flaming in the trees, bickering the whole time, and heading towards the Resistance Base. Towards new beginnings. Towards freedom.

Bracca was a junkyard, where scavengers and smugglers looked for parts to sell to the highest bidder. It was dark and dangerous at the best of times, and work was never-ending. It wasn't the kind of place you would want to grow up, but it was better than Kessel. Anything was better than Kessel.

It took a week to get to the Rebel base. Your head throbbed painfully with each passing day, with hardly any food in your system and little water to quench your thirst, the journey to salvation seemed almost unattainable. You had thanked the Maker for rain when it first came, but after 4 days of non-stop rain, you had cursed the skies for it. It only seemed to fall harder.

By day 5, the BB unit was running out of power, its movements slower than before. It was far too heavy for you to carry and without it, you would never reach the Resistance base. There were no sarcastic quips or complaints for its master anymore. No, the two of you traveled in silence, aside from the odd groan from either one of you. Its tiredness mimicked your own. You could only pray that the base would come into view soon. You weren't sure how much longer you would last.

When the planes came into view, you almost cried with joy. With newfound energy, you and the BB unit near-ran the way to the tarmac runway that signaled life on this dratted planet.

And while the BB unit was welcomed with cheers and open arms, you weren't so lucky.

You were marched to the medical bay by two men almost twice your size, flanked on the left and the right so you couldn't run if you tried. Your heartbeat in your throat. Of course, the resistance had to be careful, but surely this was excessive.

After you received treatment for your assortment of cuts and burns, you were delivered to a small room, adorned with only a bed and curtains to block out the light. Before you could say anything, let alone protest, the doors shut, leaving you alone in a small cell deep in the heart of the Resistance base.

As terrifying as the whole situation was, when you laid your head to rest on the bed in the dingy room, sleep came. It beat thorns and nettles on the forest floor of D'Qar. It beat sitting upright for 3 days, trying to avoid meteors and Tie Fighters. It beat restless nights on Bracca, hoping to gather enough for a meal. Sleep came to you better than it ever had before, and you reveled in it.

You woke up to familiar beeping outside the large metal door.

"BB-3?" Your voice came out as a hoarse whisper. The beeping got louder, almost unbearably loud, "Calm down, bud. I don't know how to open the door."

"Step back." A male voice came from behind the door, startling you. You stumbled backward, falling on the floor as the whooshed open. A tall man stood there, and if he were surprised you were on the floor, he didn't show it.

You scrambled to your feet, brushing the dust off your clothes as BB-3 rolled in, circling around you like a vulture would his prey. The man stood there observing you and the droid got reacquainted, before clearing his throat.

"Vice Admiral Holdo would like to speak with you." His tone was authoritative. You didn't want to be on his bad side. He led you toward an office on the opposite side of the building, your legs shaking as you walked. He shot you a pitying glance as BB-3 followed at your heels, before returning his face to its emotionless expression. You hated it.

It must have been early, as only a few people were up, and those who were seemed to want to rather be asleep. But no one batted an eye your way, despite the grime you still felt clinging to your face, and the ripped clothes you were wearing. You wondered if this was normal to them. People coming home grimy, hurt, and disgusting.

Only one man seemed to notice you on your journey.

"Snap!" A voice called out to you. The man in front of you - presumably Snap - broke into a huge grin. "Long time, no see, buddy!" Snap clapped the other man on the back, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

You stood there as the other man regaled the story of whatever mission he'd been on to Snap, and for a moment, you thought you were forgotten.

Until he turned. His eyes seemed to scorch your soul with their searching gaze. It was heavy, but you felt safe under it. Almost as if you knew that he would do nothing to hurt you.

"Heard all about how this one came in yesterday." He stretched out his hand, "Captain Poe Dameron. Pleasure to meet you."

You shook his hand and returned the favour, telling you his name. He tested it on his tongue, repeating a few times. Once he seemed satisfied, Poe turned back to Snap.

"How come you got stuck on babysitting duty?" He asked, mirth dancing in his eyes. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes or butt in - you wanted these people to like you. Sarcasm could be saved for later.

"Kid brought back my droid."

"BB-8 told me the story. Something about running from a resistance fighter, blowing up a depot train," you kick BB-3 gently, "and exploding an N-1. It was impossible. Maybe you should get your droid checked for gossiping?" Snap punched him in the arm, "Hey, it was just a suggestion." Poe grinned widely, "Oh, and the shootout. How could I forget the shootout?"

"It wasn't a shootout." You slapped your hand to your mouth. You hadn't meant to say that out loud. So much for saving the sarcasm for later.

Poe turns to look at you. "Oh?" his grin infuriatingly wide. "That's not what the droid said."

"It wasn't a shootout, we were shot at." Your confidence floods back into you. "And the depot train wasn't us. Wrong place, wrong time. Am I right, bud?" You glare down at the BB-unit.

He mumbles something about ruining a good story before whirring off to stop behind Snap. Stupid BB-unit.

"Guess you're more interesting than I gave you credit for kid." Snap stepped towards you, hand coming to rest on your shoulder. "The name's Temmin, Temmin Wexley. But everyone calls me Snap."

"Pleasure to meet you Snap," you echo Poe's words from earlier.

Your meeting with the Vice Admiral went well. She believed your story, well corroborated by both BB-3 and the bounty on your head placed by a well-meaning neighbour. She cleared you to start training with the resistance, though you surprised both her and Snap when you asked to be a mechanic.

Though when you started working on ships, it was clear to see why. It was almost like there was a secret language that ships spoke that only you seemed to understand. You scoffed at that. Beginner's luck you called it. Still, there was no denying that you loved working on the ships and that you were good at it too.

Months went by and you settled into the routines of the Resistance. You were given a room closer to the other mechanics, who, despite the constant tension of competition, seemed to like you well enough. You often sat with them for meals, although passing up on opportunities to spend more time with them. They seemed content with that. You got used to the early morning wake-up calls when the sun streamed through the window and urgent repairs needed to be made. You learned to enjoy the quiet evenings when everyone else had closed up shop and you could finetune repairs for those who needed it. You finally felt like you had a purpose. It was freeing.

Snap kept you up-to-date on the comings and goings of the First Order - never in much detail of course, but enough to satiate your desire to know more. In return you smuggled him extra jogan fruitcake when it was served while he was away. Sometimes, in thanks for saving your life, you made extra updates and repairs to his X-Wing when he came back from long missions - more often than not to save his those extra hours of tedious work.

Black Squadron had come home after a week long mission the night before. You had worked late into the night the day before, and you were now regretting it. Blue squadron had come into contact with a few Tie Fighters on night patrol, and the damage was hair-pullingly extensive. You were in for a long day. It didn't help that you could barely keep your eyes open, hands glued to a cup of Caf that was doing little for the tiredness clouding your brain. You didn't even notice Snap come storming in.

"WHO WORKED ON MY SHIP LAST NIGHT?" He yelled over all the mechanics. Shit.

You had done some basic repairs for him the evening before last and had spent the better part of last night finishing up repairs and repainting his ship. You knew how pilots were with ship paint. Maker, you were screwed.

After a few moments of silence, you decided it was better to own up than let everyone suffer. "I did, Wexley."

He slowly turned towards you, before grabbing you and pulling you into a bone-crushing hug, lifting your feet off the ground. You were shocked. He was happy - no, elated. The rest of the mechanics, equally as confused as you, turned back to their work, ignoring the scene in front of them.

He still had you gripped tightly when Poe walked in. "Easy tiger, you'll kill the greenie. What did she do to deserve your wrath?"

"My wrath?! No, no, no, Poe. This kid is my new favorite person on base."

"I'll try not to take offense to that," Poe grumbled jokingly, "What did she do to deserve such high praise then?"

"Have you seen my ship? She's beautiful, more beautiful than Jess that one time." He started, about to regale a story, you did not need to know. You elbowed him hard in the ribs.

"My sentiment exactly," Poe said to you, giving you a fist bump before walking over to Snap's X-Wing, closely followed by Snap himself. You trailed behind them, still unsure of what was going on. Poe dragged his finger across the paintwork, "He has a point though. I've never seen Snap's X-Wing look this good." Poe turned towards you, his warm brown eyes sparkling with pride. "Good job, Greenie."

You smiled gently, before turning away. It was high praise from Captain Poe Dameron, flyboy of the resistance.

"Maybe I'll snap her up, you know, give her a real ship to work on?" Poe said, his flirting tone making an odd double entendre that made your face light up in flames.

"Not a chance. Kid, you're my new mechanic. Officially."

"What if I don't want to be?" You countered, your sarcastic tone making both Snap and Poe burst into laughter.

You accepted the role though. There was no world in which you didn't. You enjoyed the perks of being Snap's favored Mechanic - you could sleep in more often, you were privy to more information than the average mechanic. He would tell you if he was to leave the base soon, you were often told just how bad a situation was. Snap trusted you. And if Snap did, so did the others.

'The others' being the other pilots on Black Squadron: Jessika Pava, Karé Kun, L'ulo L'ampar. And of course, Poe Dameron. It was almost like you couldn't escape him. His infectious laugh, his boyish grin, his boisterous personality. His ability to make even the most mundane task into a story for the ages.

No wonder he was so popular.

You began to sit with them in the cantina and you frequently ended up leading the repairs on Black Squadron, no one else being as trusted as you. You opened up to them slowly, telling them about growing up on Kessel and being brought to the Scrapper’s guild on Kessel. You told them the truth about your escape - Poe ended up on the floor laughing, saying “the real story’s so much better, BB-3”. They found out about your impeccable aim after a fun night in the cantina that ended in a tense game of holodarts. They became your family - more of a family you had ever had in your life.

And while, you saw Snap, L’ulo and Karé as your brothers, you could not say the same for Poe. Poe was a flirt, everyone knew that. But as you got closer and closer, it was harder to ignore the way you're heart sped up when he looked at you. How you're palms grew clammy when he smiled in your direction. How his praises and compliments made your knees weak. God you were in love with him.

You knew that half the women on the base had either slept with him or wanted to, and yet not one of them got even a second of his time. None of them except you. Poe would walk you to your room in the evening, and to the cantina in the morning, regaling stories of his adventures before he knew you. He’d bring you caf when you were working late, and sit under the stars with you at the end of a long day. He’d tell you stories of Yavin 4 and his mother. He showed you the ring that hung on the end of his necklace.

“I want to give it to the one, you know?”

“Don’t get all sentimental on me, Captain.”

He groaned, “Don’t rank me.” You just smiled.

“So, no lucky lady in your life, Dameron?”

“No lucky man in yours, greenie?”

You scoffed, “If there was ever a chance, they’ve all been scared away by you.”

“Good.”

You laughed it off, but inside your guts twisted at the idea that Poe was happy you were single. Your insides warmed at the idea that he might just feel the same.

The next morning, you walked out of your room to the sight of Poe sneaking out of the room opposite yours. Half-naked. His eyes widened at the sight of you, and your hand quickly hid your eyes from the view. Your heart dropped. He lied to you.

Poe sought you out later on in the day. He came up behind you on the landing deck, with a cool glass of jogan juice in hand. You had stripped out of your mechanics jumsuit, the arms tied loosely around your waist. Your tank top was almost a shade darker with the sweat of exertion and ridiculous heat. And yet you declined it, your face barely concealing your childlike annoyance. You knew it was stupid. You and Poe were barely friends, let alone anything that would justify your anger.

“I’m sorry.” Poe huffed, still standing underneath you in the beating sunshine. You were surprised: Poe Dameron never apologises.

“For what?” You said, your back still facing him. He sighed - he didn’t like it when anyone was annoyed at him. Least of all you.

“For this morning.”

“Why does it matter, Poe? You can sleep with who you want to.” You said, anger colouring your voice.

“It matters,” he yells, “because it upset you. Because, for whatever reason, the idea of me sleeping with other people, made you mad at me.”

His obliviousness tugged at your heartstrings, as if to say ‘he doesn’t feel the same’.“I’m not mad that you’re sleeping with other people.”

“Then why are you ignoring me?”

“Because you lied to me, Poe.” You say, dropping down from the ladder, sweat dripping down your back.

“What are you talking about?”

“You said there was no one special in your life.”

“There isn’t.” You raise a brow, before grabbing the glass of jogan juice from his hand. “Just because we had fun for a night, doesn’t mean I’m getting down on one knee.”

“I think you’ve done it enough times for that to be proven, Poe.”

His cheeky smile returned, “Glad we’re back on first name terms.”

You shook your head at him, “For the record, if I ever catch you sneaking out of a room in my wing again, I’ll skin you myself.”

“If you catch me you say? Well, I like myself a challenge.” You slap him on the head, before climbing back up the ladder.

“Leave me alone, Poe. I don’t need your love troubles plaguing my every hour.”

“There’s no place for things like love in the middle of a war, greenie. First thing you learn in a place like this.”

If he hadn’t been walking away, he would have heard your heart burst into a thousand tiny pieces. Maybe it was for the best if you didn't love him.

Instead of wallowing in undeserving heartache like an idiot, you forced yourself to forget all about the way Poe made your heart feel. He became just another friend, pushed so far into the friendzone that was no conceivable way out. To his credit, you didn’t hear of another escapade of his again. He probably just got good at hiding them.

That always got difficult when he was sent on week-long missions. Your heart would migrate into your throat and even swallowing became difficult. Your mind would swim with worry, all for him to come back completely fine, his ship always seemed to come home the least scathed. A fact for which your heart was grateful.

"Hey, flyboy," you called, as you walked into the cantina. There were less than 10 people in the whole room - probably due to the ungodly hour of the day.

Poe was sat in the corner, the light of his datapad shining on his face. He ran his fingers through his hair. It was unusually disheveled, which could only mean one thing. He was nervous.

You walked up to him. Evidently, he hadn't heard you from across the room, because when you came up to him and rested your hand on his shoulder, he flinched and grabbed your hand. You winced at his tight grip as he turned to face you.

Poe released your hand when he saw it was you. He leaned back into your chest, eyes fluttering shut. "I'm sorry," he whispered, gently.

You grabbed the datapad from his hands, and placed it face down on the table, "It's ok. What's going on?"

"Nothing. Don't worry about it."

You absent-mindedly run your hands through his hair as his head remained leaned against your chest. "It's not nothing. Is it a mission? You're leaving again soon?"

He hummed in agreement.

"You're leaving today, aren't you? That's why you're up early."

"Why do you think Snap got you to wake up early? You're not just a sight for sore eyes, you know."

His words made you blush. Never have you been more glad that he isn't staring right at you - it would give your heart’s deepest darkest desires away.

He left that afternoon. After you completed routine checks for him, he was off on a top-secret adventure. Sometimes, it was easy to hate his rank, because it made it so hard to find out where he was, or what he was doing. But as always, you let him go and, as always, you prayed he'd come home safe. To you. You always pray he comes home safe to you.

Hours turned to days, days turned to weeks. And while it wasn't unheard of for Poe to be gone this long, your heart could barely take him being gone for a day. That's the price of being in love. You'd never thought of yourself as still being in love with Poe until he left on that mission. You'd never thought much of the way your heart still raced when he talked to you. You'd never thought much of the way your heart still ached when he left for missions. You'd never thought much of the way your heart still burst when he smiled at you. But without him there, it's like your heart could not find a reason for beating.

You continued on with your job, trudging through daily repairs and meals, trying to keep your mind away from Poe. You forced a smile when you talked to Snap - missing Poe hit him just as hard as it hit you. You forced a smile when you taught new recruits - you couldn't afford to have them hate you just because the Captain was missing. You forced a smile when you came down for dinner - there was no use in moping around in the middle of a war. But when you were in the comfort of your own room, you let the smile fall and the tears drip down your face. You cried almost every night for the first week that he was gone, trying to reconcile your newly found feelings and your newly lost friend.

It was a surprise to everyone when Poe crash-landed back on D'Qar with burns and cuts littering his body. You were up at an extremely early hour as working on Snap's ship when he landed, and you were immediately filled with concern. A tight knot wound its way around your throat, as you watched the scene unfold. BB-8 was nowhere to be seen. The ship is smoking dangerously, and parts of it are falling off, but most worrying of all, Poe was struggling to get out of the cockpit. You quickly threw yourself onto the X-Wing, hitting the emergency ejection latch with the spanner in your hand. The cockpit lid flew open and Poe climbed out, coughing heavily and clutching his side. Snap came running out of the base, and grabbed Poe's arm. You ran up and grabbed the other, and the two of you dragged him towards the med wing.

Two nurses snapped him up, cleaning his wounds and applying bacta spray where necessary. Snap turned away, mumbling something about an early morning briefing, but you stayed rooted to the spot. You couldn't take your eyes off his broken state, and tears slipped out of your eyes before you could control them. After a beat, you spun around on your heel and sprinted to your room.

When the door clanged shut, you slumped onto the floor and burst into tears. You couldn't bear to see Poe in pain. You hated yourself for not being strong enough to fight through your tears to be with him. And you hated yourself for still being in love with him, when you promised you would be. When your datapad lit up with tasks for the day, you made the rash decision to call in sick. In the time you had been on the base, you had never called in sick. This job was your lifeline, your passion, and nothing, not even illness, would affect that. At least, that's what you had thought. You spent the majority of the week in that same spot, tears subsiding when you became so dehydrated that your body refused to let you cry.

On the fifth day of your hibernation, you finally left your room, having showered and gotten ready. Few people were on the base, apart from the mechanics and medics, and the injured - which included Poe. Given the lack of a real threat in the vicinity, General Leia had given the day off. You didn’t want to relax. You couldn’t relax.

You snuck over to where Poe’s beat up X-Wing was parked, and the sight of it almost made you tear up. The memories hit you like a brick. Poe barely limping towards the med wing. BB-8 being carried to the droid repair room. Fire extinguishers coating the X-Wing with hopes that it may be able to fly again. You got to work.

You were finally satisfied as the sun set over the vast treescape of D'Qar, covered head to toe in oil and grease. After some gentle coaxing by Paige - the only one aware of your all-consuming feelings for Poe - you agreed to grab something small to eat with her.

What you didn't sign up for was to see a broken and battered Poe sitting at the table, laughing at some stupid joke that Snap had probably made. He looked up as you walked in, almost as if he was expecting you. His eyes met yours, and you felt the tight knot in your throat begin to form again - just as it had the morning Poe crash-landed on the base.

Poe tried to lift his arm up to wave but winced at the action, the stitches keeping his wounds bound together stretching at the extreme action. You pressed your lips into a tight smile, willing the Maker to take your tears away. Paige handed you a bottle of water, before leading you toward the table. She left you standing in front of the table, where you awkwardly shifted your feet.

"Gonna sit down?" Snap asked, mirth dancing behind his eyes, "Or are you planning to put on a show? Wouldn't put it past you to have hidden another talent."

You smiled weakly, sitting down next to Jess and unscrewing the cap on the water bottle you had been given. Jess leaned over and whispered gently, "Feeling ok? Paige came up to ask if you were ok when you didn't show up at drills this morning."

"Yeah, felt a bit under the weather after morning rounds."

"Probably the shitty sleep you've been getting worrying about this guy." Karé said, pointing his knife at Poe.

Poe looked at you, his eyes wide, but you tried to brush off Karé's words, sarcastically replying, "Oh please Karé, the only thing you're worried about is whether or not they have that drink that you like from Sorgan, which is disgusting by the way - I don't know how you can drink it."

Everyone laughs as Karé splutters about how delicious spotchka is, the anxiousness wracking your body easing its reins slightly. Under the table, you feel Poe's foot nudge yours gently. You smile lightly at him, careful not to let him have a good look at your red-rimmed eyes and splotchy face. As much as it shouldn't matter, you don't want him to know how much you care.

"You don't have to pretend you don't care for the captain, kid. You should have seen how she leaped to open the hatch Poe, something from a Naboo holodrama. Or one of those superhero films." Snap laughed, as your face burned red.

Poe raised his eyebrow, "Now that's something I would like to see. Maybe I'll get myself stuck in a cockpit again, just to see you in action." He laughs, but you don't laugh with him. You feel your chest tighten, and the knot in your throat return. Your vision clouds with tears, and you quickly got up, excusing yourself on the notion that your headache has returned, and that you should probably get some rest before drills the next day. You stumbled out of the cantina, breaking into a sprint as soon as you were out of sight.

Poe’s eyes followed you as you left, worrying tinting his gaze. The group had fallen almost silent at your abrupt exit, looking at where you’d run, before turning back to Poe. Snap slapped the back of his head.

“Why, in the Maker’s name, would you say that?”

“What?” Poe said, rubbing the back of his head. Jess gave him a pointed look, “What did I say?”

“You joked about getting hurt, Poe! Why would you do that?”

“He didn’t just joke about getting hurt, Wex! He joked about almost dying!”

"Oh please, it's not that big of a deal. Everyone knew it was a joke. Right?" No one looks at him. "Right?!"

Jess waves at Paige, whose eyes were trained at the door. She meekly walks over, leaning down to talk to Jess.

"Is she ok?" Paige asked, her eyes brushing over the group until they landed on Poe, "What did he do?"

Poe's eyes narrowed in confusion. "I'm so confused," he muttered under his breath.

"He made a joke.”

Snap butt in, “About almost dying."

Paige’s eyes widened, "You're not serious."

"Look, I don't know what's up with her today, but something tells me that that was the last thing she needed right now."

Paige turned towards Poe, "If you weren't injured right now, Captain, I would beat you up."

"Hold up. I don't even know what I did." He said, standing up. "I get that the joke was a little misplaced, but it was a joke. I didn't put myself in this situation willingly."

"We get it, Poe. But you haven't been here. She's literally been destroyed - she's barely sleeping, I barely see her come down to eat, she spends all her time working on different ships, drowning herself in work. Today was the first day in the year she's been here that she's called in sick." Paige said, her eyes flitting between Poe and the door. She was in a half-mind to run after you, to console you.

Poe beat her to it. He got up, ignoring the protest from his teammates, and headed towards your room. He knocked lightly on your door, hearing the gentle sobbing from your room.

His heart broke. He knocked again.

“I’m fine Paige, I just need sleep.”

“Nice to know you’d lie to Paige.” Poe said, his voice steady and gentle. You open the door to you room, the door whooshing up to reveal Poe in all his glory, “Would you lie to your Captain?”

“Don’t pull rank with me, Poe.” You joked as he bent to meet your eyes.

He reached out to caress his fingers against your cheek and wipe away the stray tears. You leaned your head into his hands, the callouses on his hands like comfort against your cheek. He touches his forehead to your eyes, his eyes closed as if he couldn’t quite believe you were here. That this was happening.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered. Poe’s eyes met yours, softly searching for something. Answers, probably.

“Why are you sorry, darling?” The pet name gripped your heart, so familiar and yet so foreign. The tears begin to flow freely again. He soothed you, mindlessly carding his fingers through your hair, “Don’t cry, don’t cry.”

You look into his eyes, and can’t help but to sob harder. Why did you have to fall in love with him?

Your head curled into his chest, seeking the comfort only he could give. “Tell me what’s wrong.” He asked, whispering into your hair.

“I didn’t mean to.” You said through tears. Poe looked at you.

“You didn’t mean to what, love?” He asked. You repeated it over and over, your tears soaking through his shirt. He lets you cry until your weak, pulling you further into his arms.

He asks you again.

“I didn’t mean to love you so much.” You confessed through whispers. It was so quiet that you thought that Poe didn’t catch what you said.

His widened eyes told you otherwise.

“You…?”

“I love you.” You whispered.

“You-you love me?”

“I love you so much that whenever I see you my heart quickens until it’s uncomfortable.”

“Love -”

“I love you so much that my hands become so sweaty that I can barely keep a hold of my datapad.” You showed him your hands that were covered in a sheen. He gives you a watery laugh, before wiping your hands on his already soaked shirt.

“I love you so much that when you leave, I can’t bear to survive.”

“Love-” You interrupt him again.

“There’s no life without you, Poe.” Your voice broke as you dissolved into another bout of tears.

“Love, please.” Poe sighed, kissing your forehead, “Please, just-”

“I know. It’s a war. I shouldn’t have, but I did and I can’t help it. Please don’t hate me, please-”

Poe grabbed your face, pulling you into him. He grazed his lips over yours, before pulling away way to fast.

“I could never hate you, love.”

You pull him back towards you, smashing your lips onto his. He pulls you into his lap deepening the kiss further. You run your fingers through his hair, and over where the bandages cover his fresh wounds. Poe winced, and you pulled back.

“You should rest. And heal up.”

He looked at you with such adoration, that for a moment you thought you’d melt away. “I have the rest of forever to heal up. I want this now.”

“You have me for the rest of forever. I think you should heal up now.” He rested his forehead against yours, sighing and closing his eyes. You kissed his nose gently.

“The rest of forever is too far away.” He whispered.

“You made me wait for this long. I think you could wait for a little longer.”

“Only a little bit, love. Only for you.”

He stood up, holding his hand out to you. You grabbed it, and he pulled you to your feet. The sudden motion had you dizzy, head pounding due to the dehydration. He caught you gently, lifting you into his arms, before gently depositing you on the bed. He left light kisses on your forehead, and left with the promise of coming back with water and a little food.

He walked out of the mechanics wing and back towards the cantina, intent on his mission to get a little food and water into you.

The whole of black squadron watched him walk in. Poe nodded to them lightly, not knowing exactly what they had been expecting. Apparently it was enough for them, as they turned back towards each other.

He grabbed a small muffin and a bottle of water, before heading back to your room. He walked into see you asleep on the bed, and he couldn’t help but smile. God, she’s beautiful.

Poe sat down on the bed, rubbing your arm gently. You opened a bleary eye to see Poe crouched next to you, blocking the moonlight streaming in from the window. He pulled off his shirt, and lifted your head up to get you drink some water, before settling down next to you. You rested your head on his chest before falling back to sleep.

Poe moved under you, pulling his necklace from around his neck and placing it around yours. Your hand immediately migrated to the metal ring strung on the end. Poe froze. What if it’s too soon. He relaxed almost immediately, as your fist closes around his rings.

He relaxed, pushing his nose into your hair. You smiled as he whispered something that he probably only said because he thought you were asleep.

“I love you too."

fin.

buy me a coffee

252 notes · View notes

sinisterexaggerator · 9 months

Text

Got it Bad

Poe Dameron x Fem! Reader

Summary: You are a medic aboard the Anodyne, a Resistance frigate frequented by one Poe Dameron. He often comes to see you when he is injured; you assume this time to be no different, as he is reckless in the line of duty and could do with your healing touch. But you have underestimated him; he has to show you something. Will you entertain his request?

Warnings: Explicit / NSFW 18+ for: Heavy petting, cunnilingus, PiV sex, kissing, blood and injury, premature ejaculation, dirty talk, medical scenarios, and mention of death in wartime. Contains: fluff, a liiittle bit of angst, smut, humor, and “love” confessions.

Notes: This is my first time writing for Poe Dameron! Dedicated to @allsystemsblue, because she was the one who told me to! Poe is all over the place in this, but always about consent!

Word Count: 8.1K

Divider and banner by me.

“How many times has it been, then?”

Doe brown eyes blinked once, twice, spidery lashes that may as well have been made of gossamer, or silk, gracing tawny skin with a kiss. Poe Dameron stared blankly at you as you dressed his wound, this being one of the numerous occasions that you were tasked to do so.

You were one of the many medics aboard this particular Resistance vessel that patrolled the Outer Rim. Stationed not too far from D’Qar and the principal base of General Organa herself, this reckless, daredevil pilot had a tendency to bless you with his presence after what you would call less than routine missions.

Not desiring to arrive to his superior a bloodied mess more than necessary, Poe frequently docked his T-70 star fighter in your frigate’s docking bay for safekeeping, allowing his droid companion free rein of the halls. Moments earlier, BB-8 had been offered a recharging station, Dameron left in your expert care as his ball droid rolled off and out of sight, following closely behind a member of the maintenance crew. The conversation between the two had been amusing to witness.

“Don’t worry, buddy! I’ll be right here waiting for you. Maybe. Possibly.”

BB had issued a series of complaints and reprimands in Droidspeak, causing the pilot to wince as if being scolded by his mother, or the general herself.

“All right, fine! I’ll come and find you then. No sweat.”

Satisfied, the orange and white orb had swirled on its axis, wheeling fluidly across a duralloy floor, leaving its master alone to suffer the consequences of his actions. Though Dameron did not seem to care, remaining somewhat unbothered by the gash across his forehead from where a piece of shrapnel had sent Black One into a spin. Before he could regain control, Poe’s head had crashed into the yolk of his X-wing, leaving a two-inch rent in his flesh.

No, he had not been wearing his helmet.

Despite his foolhardy nature, you thought it curious. With such a varied assortment of medical personnel living and working on the Anodyne - a modified Nebulon-C escort employed by the Resistance for the express purpose of being a mobile hospital - it was a wonder of yours why Poe always chose to search you out.

Not considering yourself to be anything in the way of special, at least the skills you possessed were adequate to put him on the mend. But, somehow, this visit seemed different, even if sticky crimson coated his handsome features.

You had come to notice that Poe was spending less time talking and more time staring, a thing you were not accustomed to as his gaze was unrelenting, the commander scrutinizing every facet of your appearance. He had seemed to limit himself to the surface area of your face, wandering, probing, exploring the curve of your nose, the outline of your lips, and finally the warmth in your eyes.

“Y-you didn’t answer me,” you commented, applying bacta to the injured man with a dabble of your fingers, your voice having lost its normal confidence as Dameron uttered a single, muted question.

“Huh?” he asked, as if only now realizing he was indeed a person, and that he could be perceived by others. He sat up marginally in his chair, those unyielding, heavy-lidded eyes almost vacantly looking through you, or so you thought.

You were beginning to wonder if this had anything to do with the fact that he might be mildly concussed. You were also becoming self-conscious, trying to keep the conversation on track despite Poe being so close to you with his blood staining your hands. “How many times has it been that you have come to see me these last few months? Don’t you know how to stay out of trouble?”

“No,” he answered without thought, leaning forward once more in the chair serving him for his examination. That sole syllable had been expressed in a dilatory fashion, soft and airy, only inches from your mouth.

You let out a breathy exhalation, surprised by this turn of events, yet nothing had happened. The cocky pilot dared to bite down on a rather pouty bottom lip; he watched you intently, gauging your reaction as he dallied there, finally adding more in the way of a response. “That’s why I’m here. Again.”

“Yes, right, obviously,” you managed, trying to restore some semblance of equanimity over yourself after having been caught off guard.

“Obviously,” he echoed, the word a whisper in the all too quiet room. However, this would not last as more wounded boarded the ship at intervals, soon the medical bay filled with a bustle of activity.

Unwanted activity.

Poe glanced around, assessing the situation. You had just finished bandaging him up when his hand reached out for yours, gently clasping your wrist.

“Doc, I’ve gotta show you something. I’ve got it-- bad.”

“It?” you inquired incredulously, your own glance taking an appraisal of the room. His voice had lowered again, as if this topic of conversation was not meant to be overheard. His expression appeared serious, deep-set brows knitting together in a visual show of his concern. You mimicked him, a rather human way to show empathy in this case, though not entirely sure what for.

“It,” he confirmed, gently pulling you forward toward himself, as if you weren’t already close enough. Your breathing picked up as you posed a follow-up question, a simple one, and straight to the point.

“What?”

He did that thing again, the staring, as if you were a sheet of transparisteel and he was looking beyond it to the other side. You scanned his face, those ruggedly attractive bits of him that you had tended to time and time again.

“Um—” he paused, as if not knowing what to say, like his words had failed him, which was not out of the realm of possibility as you could confirm this uncommon pilot flew by the seat of his pants. You canted your head, expecting some sort of answer, your gaze trailing to Dameron’s fingers latched gingerly around your forearm.

You took note of their thickness, their length, his nails surprisingly trim and immaculate for being a fighter pilot, though you doubted he spent that much time on solid earth when he craved the sky; realspace; to soar among the stars. Catching yourself quickly, it had not gone unnoticed, Poe matching your tilt of the head with one of his own as he peered up at you with those unwavering, expressive eyes.

“Rash … Inya Prime … Think it might be serious,” he informed you, causing you to retract and sit up straight. You tugged yourself loose from his grasp and frowned, turning to wipe your hands off the best you could on an otherwise clean towel, wishing he would have told you this before you had gone and touched him.

“Well, let’s see it then,” you offered, swiveling back around to face him. The pilot pursed his lips before biting down again, his foot beginning to tap against the floor; the motion was almost sultry, like this whole charade was planned.

For some reason, you doubted that assumption.

“It’s … I can’t show you here,” he confessed, lowering his head as he turned it to the left and right, giving the medical bay another sweep with his eyes; it was as if he was suddenly your conspirator, Poe carrying and guarding an important secret.

“Where then?” You compelled an eyebrow to stay level, it wanting to raise of its own volition. It was your turn to stare, Poe taking up each of your hands again, regardless of the fact you had just tried to halfheartedly clean them. He placed them gently atop his knees; he held you there, and you dare not move. Then, the man bore directly into you with his hardened gaze, nudging his head toward the exit door.

“Exam room, down the hall. It’s, um – it’s private.”

You gave him a reproving look. “Why were you on Inya Prime in the first place?” you asked, your fingers twitching beneath his. You were caught between wanting to relax and to allow this to happen, or to jerk yourself away for fear of someone getting the wrong idea.

“Reconnaissance,” he replied without missing a beat. You supposed that seemed logical enough, though Inya Prime was a small, boring, terrestrial planet of little to no interest to most.

That explained the civilian clothing, whereas most of the time Poe arrived to you in his bright orange flight suit, standing out like a ray of sunshine among the dark, depressing backdrop of space.

“And how did you get this rash?” you inquired curiously, wondering why it was he could not show you here instead, or just how bad it might be.

“You don’t wanna know,” he stated with a sense of finality, eyes searching yours, as if he was trying to penetrate your thoughts with a Jedi mind trick. You held his gaze a moment longer than expected before quickly standing to your feet; you felt the need to break physical contact, Dameron’s hands warm, rough, and—

“Fine, let’s hurry. There are others who need tending to.” It was the truth, yet you could feel your heartbeat betraying you by thumping loudly in your chest; you were sure that Poe could hear it.

“Right, let’s,” he said, standing. He walked a pace ahead of you then turned back around. He lingered, making sure you were going to follow him before he started out the door.

The man seemed nervous, slicking back a ringlet of dark hair that refused to stay in place. He ambulated somewhat awkwardly around the corner, then waited for you to unlock the examination room with a clearing of his throat. It then occurred to him he was standing in your way; he opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it, moving to one side as you gave him an inquisitive side-eye, using your badge to unlock the facilities.

He nodded, just a small movement of his head, eyes darting forward as if thinking hard on something before he entered the small space. It was fitted with a table for patients to lie on - equipped with a step stool and stirrups - a cabinet filled with various medical supplies, a curtain for dressing and undressing, a scale for taking a patient’s weight, and blood pressure detection equipment, among other things. It had all those items necessary and then some, though depending on your diagnosis, you imagined you might need to prescribe him an antifungal ointment of some kind.

“All right, we’re here,” you offered with a gesture. “Now, show me this rash.”

Poe gave a jittery laugh, answering you with a nervy “heh” as he ran his forefinger along the clean sheets of the table laid out before him as if he was checking it for dust.

“Yeah, about that,” he finally spoke up, walking full circle around the bed-like object before he arrived behind you.

“You see, doc—” he began; you craned your neck, looking over your shoulder at him, wanting to know why you now felt trapped, barred to the only way out as he had sandwiched himself between you and the door. “It’s right here,” he said, placing his open palm against his chest and giving it a tap.

This time you were the one to clear your throat, tossing back your hair as you straightened up to appear more professional, or perhaps dignified, forcing yourself to not think about how you were about to come into contact with, or at least see, Poe Dameron’s bare breast.

All things considered, he was an attractive man. You had thought that the moment you laid eyes on him; the time he had come to you battered and beaten with a black eye and a sprained ankle – he had taken a tumble down the side of a rather steep hill on some backwater, jungle-planet and only made it back to his X-wing thanks to members of Black Squadron. His foot was so badly swollen by the time he reached you, it was a miracle he could walk - or hobble – at all.

A thought occurred to you. “I should wash my hands before we begin,” you declared, moving toward the small sink stationed with a cleaning solution that was meant for disinfection as much as it was for washing away dirt and grim.

Poe looked taken aback momentarily, words caught in his throat as he gave another nod, this one more exaggerated. “Yeah, right, OK,” he shot back, as if for some reason this had been a surprise to him.

You began your task, one hand over the other as you lathered yourself, peeking back at him. “Why don’t you take off your shirt?” you suggested, not able to help the way saying that made you feel, like this was anything more than a clinical procedure.

You could hear the rustle of fabric as Poe began to undo the buttons on his dress shirt, getting the feeling that he was watching you, studying you, bent slightly over the basin in which you were cleansing yourself of his blood. It swirled around the drainage, leading to a reserve tank that purified and recycled what little water was aboard this frigate; you knew that every drop was precious.

Finishing quickly, you refaced him, Dameron’s broad, naked chest staring you straight in the face, though he had not bothered to remove his button up all the way; its two panels were parted and pushed off to opposing sides.

Firm pectorals were spattered with a thin sheen of dark curls, matching the scruff of a beard that had just recently begun to form on his perfectly sculpted cheeks, running its course down to a chiseled jawline. Beneath wisps of black was smooth, golden skin - as if kissed by a main sequence star that orbited some planetary paradise - the happiest of trails leading down and beyond the waistline of his trousers.

You watched, entranced, the rise and fall of his stomach with every breath he took, in and out, slow, and almost deliberately so. You swallowed to remedy the dry sensation in your mouth with what saliva you had available, wondering if your face appeared as red as you felt it must be.

“Right, OK. Rash,” you announced out loud, purposely making an effort to look up and back into his eyes.

Again, he put his hand up, over his heart. “Here,” he repeated, “Right here. You see—”

Poe stepped forward, and you stepped back, each move he made a calculated risk, but one worth taking. “— my … heart,” he said, voice lowering an octave, then promptly continuing, “it… burns, itches, when I can’t … see you,” he emphasized. “And. You. You’re the cure, you’re the—”

He walked another pace forward, looming above you as you found yourself pressing back against the wall of the exam room. “—the only one who can make it better,” he breathily muttered, so close now you could smell the scent of the shampoo he used; it was reminiscent of citrus, but not overpowering.

“W-what—?” You felt you couldn’t believe your ears, your neck lifting back and up as you analyzed his intense facial expression. “Poe, I—”

“Shhh,” he sibilated with a press of his index to your lips. Then, he changed the subject, however momentary. “I lied to you, by the way. There is no rash, I—”

“—Yes, I’ve figured that out,” you interrupted, though your words came out weak, quavering.

“Sometimes, I pretend to be sick or hurt just to come see you. That headache last week?” He gave a short, sharp laugh. “More like … heartache,” he finished, encapsulating your chin between two fingers as his lips met yours.

Your body froze; you were immobile, unable to breathe, unable to speak, and unable to comprehend exactly what was going on. Granted, you may have imagined this moment once or twice – every guy, or girl aboard this vessel you assumed had done so at one point or another. There was more than one reason Dameron was referred to so aptly as “Flyboy,” though you tried not to let that tarnish the present moment.

The only thing you could articulate was a soft moan of acceptance, melting despite yourself against the durasteel partition behind you. Ruddy fingers traveled upward, this time tangling themselves in your hair, palm cupping the back of your head as he gently drew you into a deeper kiss.

“Poe,” you gasped against him, your own hand rising to lightly push against his rock-hard pecs; it was a mistake on your part, this simple act of touching his unclothed chest the catalyst from which your loins stirred. “What—”

“—It,” he murmured, bringing the conversation back around from when he had coaxed you to this place. “—the thing I’ve got it bad for. It’s you,” he conceded, Dameron’s tongue slithering past full lips to gently prod at yours that stood partially agape, ready to accept another kiss.

You easily allowed him entry, that warm, wet muscle dancing in a figure eight, the pattern slow and rhythmic as he lapped at your suddenly hungry mouth. But you would not let lust overtake you, you were a woman of scruples, principles, and a practitioner of medicine; there was a time and place for this sort of thing and now was not it.

“Dameron,” you began again, this time managing to put just enough space between you so that you might think straight, Poe’s eyes immediately overtaking yours with a primal, excitable energy that penetrated you to the depths of your soul. He was so eager, you thought, so attentive, the man hanging, waiting, willing, to hear anything you might have to say.

“I believe you’re concussed, I think it’s best that—”

“I’m fine. Better than fine. Everything’s perfect,” he interjected, pressing his mouth against yours once more.

“—Why?” you blurted out, the question having clawed its way out of your chest. It was common knowledge that the man before you got around, not able to imagine that this meant anything more than an attempt at a quick hook-up.

“Because. I can’t. Stop. Thinking. About you. You.” He spoke your name, a tickle in your ear that sent a tingle of excitement prickling down your spine, leaving goose pimples that were undeniable to the naked eye.

“I can’t explain it. Maybe it doesn’t make any sense; you, me…” he trailed off, the butt of his thumb running over the curvilinear shape of your ear. “I watch you. Sometimes. Not to… sound creepy,” he added quickly, giving a somewhat apologetic look. “… You’re incredible. Calm in the face of danger, in the face of uncertainty. And. You’re not afraid,” he emphasized.

“Besides—” Poe bent down low, brushing his lips across yours, featherlight, causing a feeble mewl to escape before you had the time or the wherewithal to rein it in. “— what if we die. What if this is the only chance I ever get to tell you?”

He was right. What was the use of pondering the future, what could or could not be, based on the assumption that you were going to live another day, or two, or three. With the First Order threatening to undo all the hard work of the New Republic, your lot was on the run, your fierce and beloved leader the only thing keeping this small resistance group together, albeit haphazardly organized.

You feared for the general every waking moment, taking your orders come what may, keeping your head down, the only thing breaking the monotony of your day besides the constant fear of attack or death being this charming, handsome man who now held your attention, and had done so on more than one occasion.

“Kiss me again, then,” you begged, any objection you may have dared to make fleeing irrevocably to leave you open and vulnerable to the onslaught of his affection sans your better judgement.

“Mn, yeah?” he coyly asked, the fingers of his hand, dormant for your short discussion, reactivating to knead the base of your skull as he gently pulled you forward, Dameron once more inserting his crafty tongue into your waiting mouth.

His movements were thoughtful, tongue writhing and contracting in a measured orchestration that seemed rehearsed, yet special to this instant. Each loop was intricate, never so much as to be distracting, Poe’s delicious kiss spurring you to action.

You lifted your hand, allowing your fingers to clutch tufts of his hair. You moaned against him, his arms instinctively tightening around you before he pulled away, gasping for breath.

“Can I touch you?” he bashfully asked, hands smoothing over your back to descend in a downward sweep across your waist and hips. “Please, baby, please say yes. Please, please,” he whined, ardent pecks of his velvet lips only a bonus; you had not planned to turn him away regardless.

“Yes,” you sighed out lasciviously, thinking this entire situation was too good to be true. But why not embrace it for what it was? You deserved admiration, affection, love.

“Thank you,” he expressed with gratitude, as if you had given him his greatest wish, Poe adjusting himself accordingly as he gifted you with another lush, sensual kiss; it was tender and languid, feeling the movement of Dameron’s hand shift from the edge of your hip to the drawstring of your pants.

You were adorned in scrubs, a stark reminder of your station and position, yet you could not help that you were human with needs and urges to be fulfilled. Hell, you hadn’t even known you wanted this until it was happening, though life was anything but predictable - it was sporadic. And if Poe was anything, it was that.

You admired that about him. He had an almost childlike whimsy, taking all things in stride, even his injuries when he acquired them. He cared about others so often and so much he frequently forgot about this own ails. It was a good quality to have in a leader, and although he was often rebuked by his superiors, Dameron was an honorable commander and an even better pilot.

“Keep going,” you implored as you felt your desire building upon itself, pooling in the seat of your belly. Desperately, you wanted him to touch you, Poe inclining his head to one side as he broke apart from your pleading lips.

He made heady eye contact, the way he looked at you both dizzying and intoxicating, the man licking his teeth as he quipped a hushed “Yeah?” alongside the act of his fingers trailing to just below the hem of your waistband. They slipped down, down, two braver than the others as Poe’s index and middle finger disappeared beneath the front of your pants and past the soft, cotton layer of your panties.

Dameron groaned a sound, as if performing a task that was somewhat arduous, yet it was meant to evince appreciation for the soft bed of fluff that greeted him, all prim and trim. His breathing picked up, his probing appendages creeping further inside your undergarments; he whimpered against your throat, feeling welcomed by the warm slick that saturated his thick digits as he parted those soft, pillowy lips that lived between your hips, aligning the underside of his forefinger against the protuberance of your clit.

“Mn, you want this just as much as I do,” he teased, his words husky and sensuous, yet not at all meant to be disrespectful. He was the playful sort; you were glad it translated into other areas of his life, namely intimate moments like these, as it eased the tension you were feeling; the thought you were doing something you should not be doing; something wrong.

“Mhm,” you muttered, the interjection a dulcet susurration upon your partway puckered lips. It quickly devolved into an immodest moan as his thumb joined in, aiding in spreading your folds to allow him ease of access to your shrouded pearl.

“That’s it, baby,” he encouraged you, his tone coated in sugar sweetness as Poe continued to cheer you on, “you’re so soft, and warm, and— ohhh,” he cut himself short, feeling embarrassed for not only the sizeable boner he was jabbing into your leg, but the fact that if he did not control himself he might very well cum in his pants.

“I—mmn. Admiral Ackbar naked. Admiral Ackbar naked," he intoned at low volume; you proceeded to laugh, though Poe did not, a look of stern determination on his face. Still, that did not stop him from pleasuring you as he gingerly thumbed that little nub betwixt your thighs, concentric circles close-knit and diligently applied as you trembled enticingly in his arms.

“Is this OK?” he rumbled in your ear, his voice a throaty purr that made you pitch ever so slightly forward with the goal of kissing him again.

“Y-yes,” you managed, your body mildly spasming as you sought after his tongue, Dameron ever so subtly picking up speed in the way he massaged your swollen clit. It thrummed beneath his finger; he tested uncharted territory, gradually inserting his index inside you to the top of his second knuckle. You were already so wet there was barely any friction to speak of, Poe once more moaning aloud to impart his satisfaction to whoever was there to listen – you.

“Oh, you feel- you feel, so, so good,” he rattled off, priming that digit to curl just inside and against the anterior wall of your sex; you gasped, though you had known what was coming, you just didn’t know how amazing the sensation would feel until he was already pushing you toward an orgasm.

“Don’t stop,” you entreated anxiously, the pliant underside of his thumb continuing its mission as it stimulated your glandular bundle of nerves; they twitched faintly, pulsating under his proficient hands.

“OK, yes. Yes. Tell me. Tell me what you want, baby,” he affirmed. You were quick to answer.

“Another kiss,” you adjured, Poe indulging you before the words could die on your lips. The passion he brought to your embrace, the delicate way in which he held you, the rhythmic pattern of his tongue inside your mouth – it drove you to a quick release, Dameron sucking the heavy breaths from your lungs as he attempted to engulf you, so zealous was his appetite for your quiet, though rapturous praise.

You briefly closed your eyes to regain your composure, breathing ragged, then gazed upon his face as you struggled to recover. He pulled away to stare at you, the feeling of his forefinger sliding out of your soaked cunt something not to be ignored.

You gasped again, a tiny sound. Poe admired you with a twinkle in his eye. Then, he gravitated forward, bending so close to your ear. “I can do better.”

“What?” you questioned, confused, trying to curtail your panting breaths. The twinkle in his eye was infectious, spreading to his mouth, Poe’s pretty lips outstretching into a broad, mischievous grin.

“Wait,” he stated.

You observed as he bent forward into a crouch, sneaking along the wall toward the automated entry. Staying to its right, he was careful not to trigger its motion sensor, using the nearby keypad to lock it from the inside. This time, you did quirk a brow, Poe lowering the lights manually to off, but not before making sure the shades were closed to the rectangular window that gave you a mundane view into the hall. However, you may as well be seven feet tall in order to see out of it, and there were species that tall aboard this ship.

Overall, you felt stupid for not having done this before, yet everything had occurred so quickly. What if you had been caught by a co-worker, or your boss? You had no idea how to explain being fingered by Poe Dameron in a room that could otherwise be utilized to someone else’s benefit.

Then, the man came forward, standing to his full stature as he joined you where he had left you, haggard and still somewhat discombobulated from what just happened – that’s when he picked you up, bending at the knees to wrap both arms around your waist as he carried you aloft, your entire body remaining upright and vertical.

“Poe! What are you—”

“Shh, shh,” he endeavored to keep you silent, walking around the corner of the examination table to place you gently upon it in a somewhat forced, seated position. He immediately got to work, as he had started with your footwear, taking it upon himself to remove one shoe at a time.

“Are you a screamer, or are you a whiner?” he asked with another cheesy smile etched across his face, “because I don’t mind either, but the screaming may draw attention, and I assume that’s something you don’t want.”

“I-I don’t—”

“-know?” He shook his head as if in disbelief, though somehow not surprised. “Ooh, we’ve gotta set you straight, doc!”

You meant to argue, but with your shoes gone, Poe began to roll down your socks; it was one of the most intimate things you had experienced, watching with rapt attention as he pushed the fabric down bit by bit, replacing it with moist kisses along the top of your foot and up toward your now bare ankle.

“You don’t mind, right?” he asked offhand, Poe repeating the process on the other side; this time he enveloped your big toe, intaking it into his mouth as he teasingly sucked, mimicking a poi fish who wanted to dine on what it perhaps thought was a worm.

You involuntarily squirmed, pushing against the tops of his shoulders. “That tickles!” you declared, Poe gazing up into your eyes as a “pop” resounded upon release.

Then, with that same unapologetically severe, impassioned stare, Dameron rose to half-stand on his knees as his hands found your hips, fingers digging into the loose band at your waist. He pulled, softly but with enthusiasm, hypnotizing, chestnut-colored eyes once more drilling a hole straight down into your core as he tugged one pant leg off, then the other, followed by a move that would rid you of your underwear.

Partially naked, and on top of your own examination table no less, you instead tried to forget what repercussions might follow suit of your actions and leaned down to kiss the man again. He rose higher, forcing you to straighten your neck and back, Poe’s broad hands encasing the breadth of your face within them to hold you so, so carefully as he returned your gesture as naturally as if he was drinking water.

Come to find this was a tactic, the man releasing you after stealing your breath away a second or third time, hands sliding to lightly shove you back by the shoulders as he lay you down. At once he disappeared from your line of sight, leaving you faced with a view of the ceiling directly above your head; you idly wondered if you were both getting too far ahead of yourselves.

“Poe, I don’t think we should be—” You exhaled noisily, words caught as you choked on a breath, your overactive imagination unable to be controlled as you envisioned the intense kiss you had experienced earlier being reenacted between your legs. The man had pinned you by your hips, kissing once, twice, - feverishly - the inguinal groove that connected your abdominal wall to your thigh, not wasting a moment’s time in making your briefly held fantasy come true.

“Hm? Mmmn,” Dameron hummed, his response muffled by your flesh. Your body stiffened before relaxing as he licked your already soaked slit with the flat of his tongue; it effortlessly slipped between the folds of your labia, Poe toying with your clit, running circles until the whole thing delved inside your opening.

The man pulled you forward by your thighs, closer to the edge of the table; you could feel the paper bedsheet sliding beneath you as he lapped at your cunt like it was a second mouth. He moaned into you, his breath hot on your skin, the scruff of his chin chaffing your legs, but you did not once complain.

“What’s that, sweetheart?” he whispered, the tip of that furled muscle retracting to glide upward along your delightfully slick vulva before it once more found the nub that was begging to be touched; it was already so sensitive.

Your chest heaved as a ripple of pleasure quaked through you, Poe beginning to suck the hard bit that was the recurrent object of his focus. At that moment, you felt blessed, belting out a sound that was a cross between elation and ecstasy, the final product being nothing more than a subdued pule from downy lips.

“Oh, fuck,” you crooned, your thighs progressively closing around either side of Poe’s head as you instinctively tried to brace yourself against your coming climax.

“That’s what I thought—ooh, hey,” the pilot protested, not liking one bit the sudden fettering of his movements. He dislodged himself, then pushed down with both his hands, parting your legs again to make sure he had unrestricted access to your cunt.

Then, he had an idea. “That’s not happening again,” he informed you with an impish smirk, Dameron lifting you up by the underside of your ass as he dragged you even closer, this time making use of the equipment made available to him, though this wasn’t exactly a gynecological exam. The scoundrel picked up both your feet, one after the other, making sure each one was secured in turn, having positioned you spread eagle with your shamelessly wet pussy put on full display.

“Ohh, this is beautiful. Perfect. You’re perfect.” The man had stopped to stare at the exquisite view before him, a hungry look overtaking his winsome visage; you had barely lifted your neck, perhaps meaning to address him, before you were forced to expel a mousy squeak following a show of near desperation on his part.

Poe had darted forward. Now hands-free and having situated you in stirrups, Dameron plunged his tongue back inside of you while clasping his fingers behind his back as he liked to imagine himself in binders. He tongue fucked you as your chest expanded and contracted with each euphoric breath, deep and slow, before he redirected all his energy back to your eager bud.

Then, his head joined in, bobbing back and forth as he enthusiastically ate you out like a man starved, consuming his first meal in weeks, months.

Wet sounds invaded your ears, Poe miming a hound lapping water; it only caused your clit to pulse, your right arm lowering for impatient fingers to latch onto his raven locks; you were careful not to disturb the dressings on his forehead even so, not wanting to let your hard work go to waste.

You held him steady; you pulled him closer, thighs trembling, though your legs still remained forced apart with knees jutting out to either side. It was the dirtiest, nastiest you had ever felt, yet at the same time Poe had made you feel alive. Alive, and not just waiting around to die.

You moaned lewdly as you gently bucked your hips, your body convulsing in rapture as his focus was laser sharp, the full expanse of his thick, skillful tongue caressing you softly from the cusp of your vagina to the vertex of your throbbing clit – over, and over, and over again.

The pattern he applied was slow and methodical, Poe’s cock beyond hard as he gently humped thin air. The man himself was groaning, speaking breathlessly against the soft flesh of your mound, even as he continued to dine.

“Baby, you taste so, so sweet. So, so, good. Mm, be a good girl, yeah? Nice and easy for me. Nice and easy…” The pilot’s words trailed off, that gentle lapping turning toward a precise, calculated stroke with just the tip, this being the very thing that drove to you the point of no return; you came again, one hand still buried in Poe’s hair as the other clasped at your breast.

“Mmmn, oh shit, oh fuck, Poe,” you cursed again, your entire being writhing in unbridled bliss as you rode out one of the most intense orgasms in recent history, this only encouraging the pilot to keep at it until you physically had to push his head away, albeit with caution.

Poe looked up at you with those emotive, gorgeous brown eyes, lips glossy with your excess; you panted heavily, looking down on what could only be described as a shit-eating grin. You took a few more moments to recuperate, then made a demand of him that even surprised yourself. “Fuck me, right now, please.”

That cocky smile faded, Dameron staring fixedly at your face. He searched each part of it, as if measuring the seriousness of your words, then sat up fully on his legs before standing completely to gaze down at you, chin glistening and damp, not noticing the red welts spattering the inside of your thighs from where his stubble had left its mark.

“Since you said please, and so, so nicely might I add,” he joked, undoing the holster at his waist with lightning speed as he let his Glie-44 blaster pistol fall to the floor at his feet. You sat up on your elbows, enjoying the show, Poe unzipping and unbuckling his pants and belt with such wild, feral vigor, it was as if they were presently on fire.

“Mn, sweetheart, would you hate me if I said I’ve been dreaming of this?” Poe questioned, though you were unable to get a read on if he was being sincere or just full of hot air. You did not answer him, instead reveling in the desperate way the pilot kicked his boots off, witnessing his undressing between your parted legs.

They felt like jelly, still held up by the stirrups. You smiled salaciously, feeling oddly playful as you began to sway your knees back and forth to emulate the fluttering of butterfly wings; you amused yourself by fondling your overstimulated clit for his pleasure and your own, waiting ever so patiently for him to finish.

It only slowed him down; you almost laughed again, this man proving to be predictable as far as men go, spellbound by the fact you were touching yourself, and in front of him, no less.

Poe let out a laborious, rasping breath, as if his throat might be closing in on itself, pearly whites once more finding rose-colored lips as he chewed timidly on a plump bottom rung. At that same moment his pants fell down to his knees, leaving Dameron in his tight white underwear, his package so hard and compact it looked ready to burst free of its cotton prison.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he professed mostly to himself, yet loud enough for you to hear him. He stumbled forward, releasing himself of the pants that still clung to him with every step, wide, warm hands placing themselves upon your knees, one for one.

“Mn, baby, for me?” he asked in a diffident tone, Poe’s cheeks burning hot as he was drawn in by the sexy spectacle before him. After a moment or two of getting lost in his own thoughts, he scrambled for his aching prick; it felt like it was going to erupt any moment now. Already it had leaked droplets of precum, the tip wet and sticky as it sprang loose.

The pilot began to pump himself as he was glued to the rhythmic stroking of your fingers; you teased him by inserting one within yourself, Poe moaning almost instantly as he came up to you all the way by the edge of the bed, gently batting your hand away. He aligned his dick against your slit, eyes laser focused, then he abruptly stopped what he was doing to lift his head and stare at you.

“You sure? What if-” he hesitated, wanting reassurance.

“I’m protected,” you whispered, at once your feet lifting so that you could wind your legs around Poe’s waist like a serpent coiling about its prey. You squeezed lightly, drawing him in, Poe helping on his end by gently nudging the head of his cock against the lubricious entrance to your vagina.

Dameron shook this time, his body tremulous against you as he sank deeper and deeper into your warm center, guiding it slowly, his girth spreading you open as you gasped, arms overtaking him in addition to your legs; you wanted his chest pressed against yours, beckoning the man to lower himself to the proper height so that you might kiss him, fingers once more gathering in his shaggy mane.

“You f-feel, ohhhh… Like, like. Like clouds,” Dameron stammered, commenting on your plush, tepid walls as he finally bottomed out. He was slow to retract his hips, then slow to press them forward again, “It’s like breaking atmo; that euphoric feeling you get when—”

Poe cut himself off, lips compressing against one another to form a concentrated line. He closed his eyes, his pace deathly drawn-out, tortuously so, each stroke of him inside you sending pinpricks of pleasure throughout your nerve-endings, both from without and within.

It was endearing. Not knowing of all the nuances comprising this pilot’s personality, this one surprised you. Poe had always seemed so high-strung, so exuberant; it was a change of pace to see him take his time on something - you.

With a tilt of your neck, your mouth found his, your tongue slithering between his teeth to taste yourself on him. You sighed fervently, pulling him closer by the meat of your thighs, in turn interring him deeper within yourself.

“I won’t break,” you informed him softly, having pulled away to encourage Dameron to rise above his stupor and fuck you like he meant it. Poe gave a slow, deliberate nod of his head in return, as if trying to find his center and a place of calm before he would be able to continue.

“Right,” he finally said, intaking a sharp inhalation of oxygen as he rocked forward, pitching his hips so that they were flush against yours. He dipped back again, repeating these motions in a syncopated rhythm, and you finding it impossible to keep your mouth from hanging open as he hit his stride.

“Just like that,” you cooed silkily, your breath warm and wispy against his ear. This alone sent Poe to a higher plane, somewhere you were sure you could not reach him, causing Dameron to make a helpless, needy sound.

You felt a warm gush; a spurt of something that was unexpected this early in the game. Poe’s face contorted pleasantly into a look of ecstasy. You watched, fascinated, the pilot coming inside you after only a few pumps. Hell, you didn’t even mind; he had given you yours twice over. You felt a kind of privilege bestowed upon you; the knowledge that your pussy must be made of solid gold. That, or he really did like you.

“Oh fuck, ohh no, shit, I-I’m sorry,” Poe stuttered, his tone indicative of embarrassment. You tried to lighten the mood with a joke, dotting tiny kisses along the corner of his mouth in an attempt to quell his mounting anxiety.

“What was that about setting me straight?” you teased, Poe forced to laugh despite himself as he tried to catch his breath. He shook his head, brawny biceps propping him up just above you, jet-black strands dangling down to brush against your nose as he sighed a dejected sigh.

“You’re just so pretty, and I was excited, you know? I- It’s- It’s been a while,” he clumsily explained, “haven’t had the time to actually masturbate, being in the middle of a war and all—”

You cut him off with a kiss, a forceful press of your lips to his. It was your way of shutting him up, aiming to put a stopper in all of his excuses; it did not matter to you.

“Poe, it’s fine,” you affirmed, cradling the antsy man’s refined jaw in the crook of your palm, “these things happen. I’m not upset. You already got me off twice; that’s more than most men for the entirety of a relationship.”

You had exaggerated that last part for a bit of dramatic flair, this particular white lie having no purpose other than to bolster Poe’s self-esteem and to make him feel better. He smiled at you, a genuine, honest-to-God smile, as if coming to terms with the fact he had no need to worry, and that he might just get a second chance one day, contrary to what he had at first believed.

“So, uh—” he started, lifting gently up and off of you; his cock incrementally eased its way out of you, the remnants of his seed thick and sticky as it flowed freely out and onto the exam table.

He scrunched an eye, as if still ashamed, Poe sucking on his bottom lip to alleviate the mental anguish he was suffering before he sheepishly asked you a question, “Now that we’ve gotten to third base, would you care to visit first?”

You propped yourself up on your forearms, quirking a brow as you rose to sit. He assumed correctly, thinking that you did not take his meaning, Poe following up to explain more succinctly. “Dinner, maybe? Or—”

Sirens began to blare, a red alert sounding all throughout the Anodyne. A voice rang out over the internal comm; Dameron and you were quickly put on edge.

“Attention, all personnel: report to stations. This is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill.”

Your face fell, as did Poe’s. He gazed at you a moment, ignoring the awful clamor in the background as people began to race throughout the halls just beyond the door. It was as if time stood still, and you were unable to break away from Dameron’s dark gaze. The man, who was so amiable and easygoing, now looked browbeaten and worn, knowing that any minute now he would have to find BB-8 and return to his X-wing when he had wanted nothing more than to relax in your company. Wishful thinking, he mused.

You were the first to move, rushing to get up. You found a towel and cleaned yourself up, collecting your clothes from off the floor; somehow, your tunic had remained intact, though you would hold out for a future time when Poe might touch those parts of you, too. It was hard not to want to imagine him with his soft lips puckered about your nipple as his stocky fingers massaged and revered your breasts.

“Attention: all pilots, return to hangar. Repeat: all capable pilots return to your ships.”

“It was just as well, huh?” he asked solemnly, referring to the abrupt end of your impromptu rendezvous.

“Go,” you commanded, Poe’s stare lingering, amber eyes piercing you with a look that was ironically impenetrable; resolute, yet somehow somber, wistful.

He broke away, finally, and with difficulty, scrambling to adjust his briefs before throwing back on his pants and buttoning his shirt. He hitched his holster around his hips, the boots made to go on last. You observed as he hopped around on one foot, once more finding him to be endearing as you turned to rush toward the refresher, steadfast in your desire to use the sonic, if only for a moment; you needed to rinse off before returning to the med bay, as was your duty.

Poe called out to you by name; you whirled to face him. The man’s fluffy eyebrows were stitched together as he could only stare at you again. Then, he seemed to finally come-to, stepping the few paces forward that separated you.

“I’ll comm you later?” he asked more than stated, the backs of his knuckles running the length of your cheek. You could only nod, leaning up to kiss him one last time.

“Come back in one piece, OK? I don’t want to have to stitch you up again; be careful,” you urged him. He smiled that charming, boyish smile that made your heart race, as radiant as ever; his mood could change so suddenly.

“No promises,” he replied, meaning it in jest, yet you knew there was some truth to it.

You parted ways with the best damn pilot in the galaxy, hope being the only thing left to you both now. Hope that he would never have to step foot back aboard this frigate, but that if he did, it would be for some better reason, and not because he had failed to heed your warning.

---

Reblogs / comments appreciated!

Masterlist

Ao3

#Poe Dameron #Poe Dameron x Reader #Poe x Reader #Poe Dameron x You #x reader #Star Wars #Star Wars Smut #sequel trilogy #Resistance #fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #star wars fanfiction #angst #fluff #love confessions #female reader #fem reader

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nowritingonthewall · 1 year

Text

I just called to say I love you

Fandom: Star Wars

Pairing: Poe Dameron x gn!reader

Words: 1500

Summary: When you are worried about Poe on his mission, he tries to put your mind at ease.

Warnings: Mostly fluff with some sprinkles of angst, reader is extremely anxious in the beginning, no gender specific descriptions of the reader but Poe refers to them as Beebs’ mommy

The buzzing of your holopad made you wake from your troubled dreams with a start. Still in a daze, it took you several seconds to become aware of your surroundings and realize that you must have fallen asleep on your bed after tossing and turning for hours.

Slightly disoriented you groggily tried to grab your holopad from your nightstand, when you realized with a jolt that there was only one person who would try to contact you at this time of night. The reason why you hadn’t been able to find any proper rest for more than three weeks now: Poe.

Suddenly wide awake, you quickly unlock the holo call while trying to find some clothes between the sheets in case you would have to jump into action immediately.

“Poe?!”

“Hey, Koyopoo!”

“Are you all right? Do you need back up? A mechanic crew? An emergency medical team? Substitute transport?”

“Actually I just – “

“You didn’t accidentally blow up another X-wing, did you? Did you blow up another X-wing? Please tell me you didn’t blow up another X-wing!”

“No honey, I just – “

“Why didn’t you contact the control room? Did Lt. Prebun mix up the frequencies for the emergency channels again? I swear, this guy…”

“Sweetheart, could you just – “

“I told you, you should have taken more pilots to the rendezvous point, didn’t I? I told you…”

You were half way finished with trying to pull the next best shirt over your legs when your sleep-deprived brain finally caught up with the lack of urgency in Poe’s voice. You hesitated.

“Wait, why… why are you so calm?”

“Because you seem to be excited enough for the two of us?”

“Sh… sorry, sweetie!” You tried your best to calm down taking a deep breath before asking, “What do you need?”

“First of all, I need you to relax, bups, everything’s fine!”

“I am relaxed!!!” you shot back with the calmness of an exploding death star.

“Snugglebums…” he cooed gently.

“Kriff, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m just… slightly on edge.”

“I know, pumpkin, that’s why I wanted to tell you the we’re all okay as soon as the comms were safe to use again.” His voice was so soft and soothing that you could actually feel some of the tension being released from your body.

“Also…”

There was always an ‘also’ with Poe, wasn’t there. As if reading your thoughts, though, he immediately assured you, “Everything is fine, really! I just… I just needed to hear your voice.”

Even through the blurry image generated by your holopad you could see the warmth and adoration radiating from his eyes as he lovingly touched the screen of his device.

You could only imagine how much of a mess you probably represented right now, with your tousled and tangled hair sticking up from your head in every direction, your puffy eyes heavy from sleep deprivation and your face crinkled with worry lines. Yet Poe’s eyes seemed to glisten as if he was looking at the most precious treasure in the galaxy. He might have been at the other end of the universe and yet you could sense his feelings for you flowing through you, warming your heart and soul as if he was right there beside you.

Despite your best attempts at trying to sound serious, you weren’t able to keep your emotions out of your voice. “Poe, you know what the General said about keeping the comms clear during missions...”

“I remember, peachy!” He grinned. “But I have a very important message for you, you see?”

“Wait, what, you do? Hang on a second…”

Switching into mission mode again, you frantically rummaged through your sheets looking for your datapad to write down Poe’s message. When you finally found it, you unlocked it as quickly as possible, nodding in Poe’s direction, “Okay, I’m ready, shoot!”

“Right.” He cleared his throat a little overdramatically.

“I just called…” he began.

“I just called…” you repeated typing as fast as you could.

“…to say…” he continued.

“…to say…” you repeated, wondering why nobody had informed you that the secret code for transmitting messages had obviously been changed again.

“I love you!”

“I love… Pohoe!”

“Awwwww did you hear that, Beebs? Your mommy loves me!” The mischievous glint in his eyes accompanying his cheeky smile was framed by the most gorgeous crinkles in the galaxy.

Fighting very hard to refrain from simply covering the holo projection in smoochies, you tried to remember your professional training when you asked him cautiously, “Poe, what did you do?”

“What makes you think I did something?” He raised an eyebrow without losing his scrumptious smile.

“Well, for starters, you calling me Beebs’ mommy usually means that you fear you might be in trouble.”

As the transmittance became a little wibbly-wobbly, you were only able to catch a few excited beeps before you could hear Poe again, “Beebs wants to know if you love him, too!”

“Changing the subject, are we, sweetie? Of course, I love him, too!”

“I’m sorry, peanut, I don’t think he heard that.”

“I love you, Beebs!” you exclaimed a little louder.

“Whaaaaat?”

“I love you, Beebs!” you basically screamed at your holopad.

“Geez, babe, there really is no need to wake up half the base!”

Spinning around you nearly fell of the bed when you realized that the man you had assumed to be several systems away was suddenly standing in the door to your room.

“I am going to ki…” – “kiss me?” he chimed in hopefully.

You were about to tell him that he got it half right and look for a pillow or maybe something not so soft to throw at him, when the relief of seeing him safe and sound took over and you leapt to your feet closing the distance between the two of you in a heartbeat. Throwing your arms around him, you bury your face in the crook of his neck, not quite succeeding at suppressing a few sobs of relief.

Whatever cheeky grin or witty comment might have been on his lips, was quickly wiped away as he pulled you as close to him as humanly possible. “Hey, Koyopoo,” he whispered softly, placing a gentle kiss on top of your head.

You allowed yourself to cling to him just long enough to convince yourself that he was actually back and safe in your arms before pulling back to examine him for possible injuries. At least that had been your plan. Which was significantly hampered by the fact that Poe was not ready to let go of you yet by a long shot.

“Poe, sweetie, just lemme…“ – “I’m fine,” he said, knowing exactly what you were about to do and not loosening his hold on you one bit.

“The last time you said that you had to spend two weeks in intensive care,” you pointed out, drawing a sheepish giggle from him.

“I’m fine, love,” he repeated a little softer before pulling you even closer to his chest. Closer than you could remember ever being held by him. Close enough for your relief to be dampened by concern.

“Poe, what happened on that mission?” you asked him softly.

“Nothing. I mean, nothing to worry about. I just really really really missed you, boo.”

Gently cupping his cheek you scanned his face carefully, finding nothing there but pure sincerity and endless affection.

Before you got the chance to lean in for a proper kiss, you felt a nudge to your knee, which was followed by a few impatient beeps.

“Oh yeah, Beebs would like to tell you that he loves you too!” Poe explained laughing.

As you knelt down to give the little droid a few belly rubs, he began to wiggle excitedly and chirp happy beeps at you, which became even happier when you leaned forward to place a little kiss on his dome.

“Oh, so *he* gets a kiss?” Poe pouted.

“That’s for bringing him safely back to me,” you explained partly to him and partly to the little droid. “Thank you, Beebs!”

“I had a little to do with it, too, you know.” As he crossed his arms as if he had been mortally offended, his pout intensified.

“Sure you had, flyboy!” you grinned, patting his knee sympathetically.

“C’mere!”

Pulling you back up and into his arms, he gently rubbed his nose against yours before hugging you even tighter than before. As your head came to rest on his shoulder, he put his cheek against yours, tenderly swaying you both from side to side, as if dancing to a silent and soothing rhythm.

“Baby, we really need to find a way to help you relax and stop worrying so much whenever I am on a mission.”

“Mmhhmmmm…” you hummed against his shoulder. “You mean like when you start pacing across the landing pad three hours before my scheduled return? Like when you personally double-check each first aid kit on our transports? Like when you ask my mech at least five times if they are sure my wing is in ship shape condition before every flight? Like when you nearly lost it with the new comm officer for losing contact with me during our last mission?” You raised your head to be able to look at him. “That kind of relaxing?”

“Hold on, I didn’t… how do you even know about this?”

Unable to hide your smile, your gaze flickered involuntarily towards BB-8, prompting Poe to grumble, “You little snitch!”

Appalled by the accusation, the little droid rolled backwards chirping a few indignant beeps that were followed by a long and sad one.

“No, no, of course I am not mad at you, buddy!”

“Whoooeeeeeeh! Bleep blob da blibbo?”

“No, I have no idea why they are wearing my shirt on their bum,” Poe laughed before turning back to you. “Sweetiepie? Why *are* you wearing my shirt on your bum?”

Letting out a groan you leaned your forehead against his shoulder. “Because.”

With a chuckle, Poe pulled you closer towards him.

“I think I kind of like it.”

“Really…” you murmured into the fabric of his flight suit.

“Can I tell you what else would look really good on your bum?”

“Mmhmmm? Of course you can,“ you mumbled as you nuzzled your face deeper into the crook of his neck.

With the fast decrease of adrenaline in your system now that you were back in his arms, you could feel the last weeks of worrying catching up with you quickly and your head was growing heavier by the second. If it hadn’t been for Poe holding you upright as you melted into him, you probably would have collapsed already.

“Maybe some other time,” he smiled. Keeping you steady against his chest, he carefully guided you to your bed. After gently helping you to lie down, he took a moment to smile at the way you seemed to be drifting back to sleep already.

Having made sure that BB-8 was properly docked into his charging station, he swiftly got out of his boots and his flight suit before climbing into bed right next to you.

As he pulled the cover over both of you, you snuggled up against him laying your arm around him, melting into his comforting warmth with your head tugged safely beneath his chin. Slowly stroking his hand up and down your back while leaving the softest of kisses on your temple, he could feel you smiling against his chest.

“Hey, Poe?”

“Mmhhhm?”

“I love you, too!”

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this little blurb, I would love to hear from you 💜

#poe dameron #star wars #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x gn!reader #poe x reader #fanfiction #poe dameron fluff #tw: anxiety #chrissie tries to write #chrissie gifs #oscar isaac

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campingwiththecharmings · 2 years

Text

Invisible String

AN: This is another one I started back in July of 2022 and am just now finishing! I had intended for it to be cute and kinda funny but it ended up being a little...I don't think angsty is the right word, but it has a little more feels than I'd anticipated lol. I dunno, I like how it turned out. Hope you all do too! ❤️

(Un-beta’d)

You're a new medic in the Resistance and you keep running into a certain pilot in the medbay.

Rated: T Words: 6,019 Pairing: Poe Dameron x GN!Reader Warnings: feelings of loneliness, mutual pining, a little awkwardness (but like the sweet kind not the cringey kind) (i hope lol), references to violence, injuries of varying degrees AO3

——————

The Resistance base on D’Qar was bigger than you’d expected. Then again, most things were bigger than the little outpost you’d called home for the last few years. When you’d heard HQ needed medics, you’d jumped at the chance to leave the backwater moon you’d been stationed on. Now that you’re here, though, you’re wondering if you’d made the right decision. Every day here is somehow more chaotic than the last and, while you feel like you’re adapting pretty well, you’re a little lonely. Sure, you’re friendly with people, especially the other medics, but making friends isn’t exactly at the top of most people’s to-do lists these days. Everyone’s too busy. Too busy to show you around the base, too busy to get a drink with you, too busy to get to know you….

Needless to say, it’s been a rough couple of months.

“Hey,” someone calls, dragging you from your thoughts, “Can I get some help over here, please?”

Two men enter the bustling medbay, one of which seems to be supporting the other. Without a second thought, you rush over, pulling on a pair of gloves as you go.

“What happened?” you ask the man who appears to be uninjured, gesturing him over to a free bed in your section.

“He hit his head,” the man says, nodding toward his friend as he helps him sit on the bed.

"I swear to the Maker that ladder came out of nowhere," the other man mutters, grimacing a little as the gash on his forehead oozes slightly.

You nod, grabbing a clean towel and gently pressing it against the wound. The man hisses, flinching at the pressure.

“Sorry,” you mutter, chewing on your lip as you search your pockets for your work light with your free hand. When you find it, you turn your attention back to the uninjured man.

“Hold this,” you instruct, indicating the towel on the injured man’s forehead. He does as asked, watching as you tilt his friend’s chin up and briefly shine your light in his eyes.

“What’s that do?” the injured man asks, squinting into the light.

You move it a couple more times before clicking it off and putting it away. “I'm checking you for a head injury.”

“And?” the other man asks, looking a little concerned.

You glance at him, smiling softly as you search the cart beside the bed for a bacta patch. “He’ll be fine.”

“See, Finn? I told you,” the injured man grumbles before pushing himself up from the bed.

“Whoa,” you say, bracing your hands on his shoulders when he wobbles a little, “Take it easy.”

Your touch pulls his attention to you and he stops, gaze locking with yours. Something in his eyes makes you feel seen, exposed, and your face warms a little.

“Yeah, Poe, take it easy,” Finn scolds as he helps his friend sit back down.

You look away, mentally shaking yourself as you prepare the bacta patch for his head.

“He wasn’t gonna come, you know,” Finn tells you, pointing at his friend. “I had to practically drag him here.”

You briefly glance at the two men and see Poe rolls his eyes. “That’s because I’m fine. Right, Doc?”

“You are fine, yes,” you agree, ignoring the (incorrect) honorific as you gingerly place the patch over the gash in his forehead, “But it doesn’t hurt to make sure.”

Finn makes a noise of agreement and you bite back a smile as you finish applying the bandage.

“Well, you’re all set,” you say, meeting Poe’s eyes with a teasing brow. “Try not to walk into any more ladders.”

Finn snorts, clapping his friend on the back. Poe chuckles, looking sheepish as he briefly glances away from your amused gaze. “I’ll do my best.”

—

You’re bored.

It’s the middle of the night, you’re the only medic on shift, and you’re bored.

You sigh, shifting on your stool then wincing when the muscles in your lower back protest. The metal wheels squeak as you stand and stretch with a groan. It’s been slow tonight, which you guess is a good thing, but it certainly isn’t making your shift go by any quicker.

Just as you’re wondering how you’re going to spend the next few hours, the medbay door slides open. You turn, gazing at a coughing, soot-covered man and a white and orange droid.

“Maker, what happened?” you ask, ushering him over to the closest bed.

“Engine fire,” he explains between coughing fits.

You nod, quickly grabbing a breath mask from the cabinet and racing back over to him.

“Here,” you say, helping him fit the mask over his mouth and nose.

He nods in thanks as another coughing fit causes his dark curls to fall into his eyes.

“Deep, slow breaths, okay?” you instruct softly, a soothing hand on his shoulder.

He nods again, coughs subsiding a little as his breathing steadies. You study him in silence for a moment when you realize you’ve met before.

“Poe, right?” you guess, smiling slightly when he meets your eyes and nods a third time. “Are you injured anywhere else?”

“Don’t think so,” he croaks, his voice slightly muffled by the breath mask. “Didn’t burn my eyebrows off, did I?”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “No, it appears they’ve been spared.”

“Well, thank the Maker,” he jokes as another cough wracks his body.

The droid beside him beeps angrily and Poe sighs wearily. You bite back a smile, fighting the urge to chuckle at the interaction. “What’s he saying?”

He waves a hand at you as if to say it doesn’t matter, and this results in even more beeps from the droid.

“Seems like he’s a little upset with you,” you deduce, shooting him a knowing look.

He scoffs, his breathing almost normal now. “That’s an understatement,” he mutters, briefly glancing at the little droid.

“Why? What’d you do?”

“What makes you think I did something?”

Silent, you raise a teasing brow at him.

He huffs a laugh after a moment, the action sending him into another, albeit less intense, coughing fit.

“Easy,” you say softly, adjusting the seal of the mask on his face.

He nods, his eyes briefly locking with yours before his attention is pulled away once more by his droid. It beeps at him again, this time sounding more morose than angry. Poe sighs, his shoulders sagging a little as he reaches down to lay a hand on the little droid’s head. “I know, buddy. I’m glad you’re okay too.”

Your heart swells at the exchange and you briefly turn away to give them a little privacy. After a minute or two, you turn to check the gauge on the breath mask. His oxygen levels are now above normal, despite the occasional coughing fit, so you remove it and set it aside.

“Small sips,” you instruct, handing him a cup of water.

Poe mumbles a thanks and takes it from you, his fingers brushing against yours. You ignore the jolt that zips through you at his touch, turning away again to busy yourself with your next task.

When you return a moment later with a damp cloth, he furrows his brow in confusion. “What’s that for?”

“I just want to make sure there are no other injuries before I discharge you,” you say, smiling as you gesture to his soot-covered face.

“Right,” he laughs, shifting a little on the bed.

You angle his chin up and begin gently wiping the grime off his face. You work in silence, feeling Poe’s eyes on you as you turn his head this way and that. When the cloth you’re using is no longer clean, you stop, turning away with the intention of getting another. As a result, you almost trip over Poe’s droid.

“Oh,” you exclaim in surprise as the droid rolls back a bit, cocking its head to look up at you. “Hello.”

He beeps at you happily and you chuckle.

“Sorry. This is BB-8,” Poe says from behind you, fondness in his voice.

“It’s nice to meet you, BB-8,” you say, introducing yourself as you crouch down to the droid’s level. “Is it safe to assume you’re the reason Poe still has his eyebrows?”

Poe snorts and you can’t help the warmth that unfurls in your chest at the sound. BB-8 beeps excitedly at you again in response and you find yourself wishing that you understood Binary.

“How long have you two been together?” you ask, turning your head to direct the question to Poe.

He shrugs. “At this point, I can’t really remember a time when we weren’t.”

Your smile is a little sad as you stand to your feet, his brown eyes warm when you meet them. “Sounds nice. Always having someone, I mean.”

There’s a pause as you turn, walking to the cabinet and rifling through it in search of another cloth. When you find one, you move toward the sink in the corner to wet it, squeezing out the excess liquid so it doesn’t drip all over the floor. You lower yourself back onto your stool upon your return, rolling it in front of him. When you meet his eyes again, that something is there, the something you’d seen when you’d first met, and you know that he sees you.

You smile numbly, averting your gaze as you begin to clean the soot from his face again.

“You just transferred here, right?” he asks, his voice soft.

Your eyes flick back to his briefly before refocusing on your task. “Yeah, a few months ago.”

He makes a contemplative noise as you finish cleaning the soot from his skin. “How are you liking it?”

You sniff a laugh, turning slightly to prepare bacta patches for the minor scrapes and singes on his face. “We’re at war. Is anyone liking it?”

“Fair point,” he chuckles, absently drumming his fingers on his thighs. “There are still things to enjoy though, even in the midst of war.”

“Such as?”

“Family, friends…flying.”

“Sounds like a personal motto,” you tease, applying the last bacta patch.

He chuckles again, the sound filling you with a giddiness you haven’t felt in what feels like years. “I guess it kinda is.”

You smile, smoothing the edges of the patches over his skin one more time before allowing your eyes to meet his again. There’s a warmth and kindness there that makes you want to curl up in his lap like a loth cat. There’s something else too, something you can’t quite name, something that makes your stomach flip and your palms sweat. You’re staring, you know you are, but you can’t make yourself look away. He’s close, so close, you hadn’t realized how much, your body unconsciously leaning toward him, toward his comforting warmth—

“Also the smoked lizard.”

You blink, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “What?”

He snorts, briefly flicking his eyes away as a flush climbs up his neck. “It’s another reason to like it here. The smoked lizard.”

You laugh, chewing on your bottom lip. “Right. I’ll keep that in mind.”

A slightly awkward silence falls between you and you will yourself to be professional, to be normal for two kriffing seconds.

“Well, um, you’re good to go, I think,” you say, rising from your stool and picking up the tray beside the bed. “I trust BB-8’ll stop you from getting into any more trouble. Tonight, at least.”

The droid beeps cheekily and Poe smiles, nodding as he stands to his feet. “Thanks, Doc.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” you say, fingers clenching on the tray as you meet his eyes again. “Take care of yourself this time, will you?”

“I’ll try,” he chuckles, rubbing that back of his neck. “Come on, buddy.”

The little droid whistles and beeps, swiveling his head toward you as if saying it’s own thanks, before rolling out the medbay door on Poe’s heels.

—

“Hey, someone’s asking for you.”

You look up from your data pad, head still running through the details of the medical chart you’d just been reading. “What?”

The medic speaking to you is new and you’re still having trouble remembering her name. Taia, maybe?

“Someone’s asking for you. In the front,” she repeats, gesturing back toward the medbay.

Your brow furrows in confusion. “For me?”

She blinks at you. “Yeah.”

“Who is it?” you ask, oblivious to her agitation.

She sighs, gesturing again to the medbay. “Will you just…come out here, please? Maker.”

You watch as she walks away, moderately amused by her impatience. As you follow her out onto the floor, you look in the direction of your assigned section that day and see—

“Poe?”

His head shoots up at the sound of his name, brown eyes warming with recognition as they lock with yours. A smile curls on his lips as you head over to him, one that makes something tingle beneath your skin.

“Hey,” he says, raising his hand awkwardly in a wave.

You do a quick once over and don’t notice any obvious injuries. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

He nods, smile shifting into something closer to a cringe. “Yeah, I’m okay. I just uh–”

Instead of finishing, he gestures to his hand, which you now see he’s holding somewhat awkwardly in his lap.

“Oh, what happened?” you ask, pulling on your gloves.

He shrugs, averting his gaze like he’s embarrassed about something. “It’s nothing really. I was fixing something on my ship and got a little cut. I just don’t want it to get infected, you know?”

You nod, reaching out to gently take his hand. “Of course, I understand.”

He nods, swallowing thickly as you peel back his fingers to assess the damage. You bring his hand closer to your face to get a closer look, gently turning it this way and that.

“Right,” you begin, meeting his gaze again. “It’s not bad, like you said, but it is a little deep so I think we should put in a few stitches just to be on the safe side.”

He nods again, licking his lips. “Whatever you say, Doc, you’re the expert.”

You smile, gaze flicking briefly to his mouth. You avert your eyes immediately, skin warming with embarrassment as you turn away to retrieve the items you need from your tray.

“Alright, just, don’t move okay? This might sting a bit,” you instruct, guiding his hand to rest on the bed beside him.

“Okay,” he mumbles, watching as you push his fingers away from his palm.

You work on cleaning the cut first, making sure there’s nothing there that could cause an infection. Once that’s finished, you carefully weave in a few stitches and finish up with a bacta patch.

“There you go,” you say, before looking up at him with a smile.

He smiles back, butterflies erupting in your belly at the sight. “Thanks.”

You nod, maintaining eye contact for Maker knows how long (you certainly don’t), before the clatter of a tray overturning brings you back to reality. Your eyelashes flutter as you quickly stand with the intention of gaining some distance, only to end up even closer than you had been.

“I, um–,” you begin, finally tearing your gaze from his, “I’m going to give you a salve to put on your hand once the stitches dissolve. It’ll help with scarring.”

“Great.”

You smile awkwardly as you turn to head toward the supply cabinet in the corner. On the way over, you berate yourself for behaving so unprofessionally, staring at Poe like some lovesick kid with a crush. You pull the cabinet door open when you reach it, staring blankly at the shelves for a moment. You're not sure what it is about him that has you acting this way, but you really need to nip it in the bud; he’s here for medical attention, not you.

Resolved, you take a breath, grabbing the salve and heading back over your patient.

“Here you go,” you say, annoyed at yourself by how breathless you sound as you hold the salve out to him.

As he takes the small container from you, his fingers brush yours, causing your gaze to automatically return to his. His eyes are as warm as his smile, glowing with something you can’t quite place, something you want to drown in.

“Right,” he rasps after a moment, clearing his throat as he stands to his feet. “Well, I don’t wanna take up anymore of your time. Thanks again, Doc.”

“Any time,” you respond, far more nonchalant than you’re actually feeling.

He turns to wave as he walks out the door, almost running into one of the other medics. You bite back a laugh as he apologizes, the tips of his ears reddening a little in embarrassment. He catches your eye one more time before leaving, an almost shy smile on his lips, and you allow yourself to consider, just for a moment, that maybe you were wrong, maybe he was here to see you. You smile at the thought, however unlikely it might be.

—

Most of the pilots are off world training today, so the base is pretty empty. As a result, Dr. Kalonia had given most of you the morning off. You greet your fellow medics as you make your way to the back to stash your things, smiling amiably as you make eye contact with a few of them. They mumble their “good mornings” back, already tired from their late night or early morning shifts. When you return to the front, you check the clipboard to find that day’s assignment. As you hurry over to your station, you mentally run through the list of things you need to check your medical cart for. So lost in your thoughts are you, you don’t even realize there’s already a patient at your station until you reach it.

“Hey,” you say, a little surprised.

“Hey,” Poe responds, grimacing slightly.

“Back already, huh?” you say, a teasing eyebrow raised. “Are you really this accident prone or did you just need an excuse to come see me again?”

He chuckles, averting his gaze as a flush creeps its way up his neck.

“I, uh, I think my foot might be broken actually,” he responds, shooting a mildly dirty look in the direction of BB-8. “BB ran over it.”

The droid beeps indignantly at the accusation, drawing your attention as you pull on a pair of gloves. Whatever BB says makes Poe scoff.

“Hey buddy, you’re a lot heavier than you realize.”

The droid beeps again, head wobbling back and forth indignantly and you have to bite back a laugh when Poe shoots you a mildly exasperated look..

“How ‘bout I just take a look,” you say, sitting on your stool and rolling it in front of him.

He nods, hissing a little when you remove his boot and sock, setting them on the stretcher beside him.

“Does it hurt anywhere specifically or just all over?” you ask, examining his foot for any signs of bruising.

“My toes. They’re definitely broken.”

BB-8 beeps again, almost sarcastically, you think, and Poe sends another glare in the droid’s direction. “I am not being dramatic.”

You bite back a smile as they continue to bicker back and forth, your attention fixed on the appendages in question. Poe has no adverse reaction to your prodding and wiggling, and you’re beginning to think that BB might actually be right, until you get to his pinky toe.

He halts midargument, sucking in a breath and grabbing at his leg.

“Sorry,” you mutter, quickly grabbing some medical tape from your cart and slowly wrapping it around both his injured toe and the one beside it.

He muffles a groan of pain as you complete your task, gently lowering his foot off of your lap.

“Okay?” you ask with a slight grimace.

He takes a steadying breath and nods. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Good,” you say, offering him a small smile. “It’s hard to know for sure if it’s broken given our lack of equipment but I taped it up just in case. Just stay off of it as much as you can and redo the tape every few days until your pain subsides.”

He nods again as you finish, meeting your gaze as you hand him a roll of medical tape. “Got it. Thanks.”

His hair is a little unkempt, stray curls falling across his forehead and into his eyes. You try not to stare, you really do, but Maker he’s just so pretty and you’re only human.

It’s then that you notice that he’s staring at you too, brown eyes slowly roaming your face as if taking in every detail, his brows furrowed a little in concentration. Your heart skips in your chest at the realization, warmth flaring beneath your skin—

Does Poe Dameron like you?

Sure, you’d joked about it earlier, but the thought had never seriously crossed your mind before; why would he like you, anyway? You’ve only met a few times before this and none of them were outside of the medbay. No, he’s just accident prone, you think, your stomach sinking with disappointment.

You break away first, shaking your head slightly, as if to shake off your thoughts. Your movement brings him back to reality too, you assume, because he looks away almost immediately after you do, eyes falling to study his hands.

Before either one of you can say anything else, BB-8 beeps at Poe, whose head snaps so quickly in the droid’s direction, you’re surprised he didn’t pull something.

“What?”

The droid beeps again and whatever he says makes Poe immediately lean over and whisper furiously at him. BB beeps again, sounding impatient.

Before you can even think to intervene, someone on the other side of the room calls your name.

“Oh sorry, I’ve gotta—” you begin, pointing toward the commotion starting to unfold.

Poe nods, looking a little pained. “Yeah, of course. Thanks again, Doc.”

You shoot them both a smile before turning away, grabbing your data pad off of your tray before jogging across the room.

—

It’s been a few weeks since you last saw Poe. Apparently, the General had sent him out on some super top secret mission with no word on when he might return (not that you’d asked or anything…).

Is it weird to admit that you miss him? Can you miss someone you don’t even really know that well?

And yet, you do. Miss him, that is. You miss his kind eyes, his smile, his back and forth with BB-8, his (apparent) penchant for clumsiness, him calling you ‘Doc’ even though you’re not a doctor—

Kriff.

You sigh, dragging your hand over your face as you walk down the hall you know will lead you back to the medbay. They’re short staffed today—a bout of flu had run through the medics on the night shift and everyone else had had to work doubles for the last week as a result. It’s bustling when you return and you immediately throw yourself back into the fray; it’s only the middle of your shift, you’re exhausted.

Once there’s a bit of a lull, Dr. Kalonia sends you and a few other medics who look dead on their feet to the back to grab a little sleep. Normally, you’d try to protest, but you honestly don’t have the energy to fight her on it right now. You pass out the second your head hits the pillow.

The blaring of sirens rips you from sleep, the sound making your blood run cold.

The base is under attack.

You scramble to your feet, almost running into one of the other medics as you head to the front, struggling to remember your training. It’s a bit chaotic, but most of the medics manage to keep their heads cool, doing whatever they need to do for the good of the Resistance. It bolsters you, gives you the courage you need to do the same. That’s why you’re here after all.

After about fifteen minutes, the sirens abruptly stop, the sudden silence almost deafening to your ears after the loud blaring of the alarm. Everyone’s confused, including the doctor, who immediately grabs her comm to try and get some answers. The tension in the room is palpable as you wait, unsure of what’s happening; are you still under attack? Were you ever? Was this some kind of drill the General ordered just to see how everyone would respond?

You don’t have to wait long. A few minutes later, a group bursts into the medbay with someone on a stretcher. One of them calls for the doctor and she immediately jumps into action, calling on a few of the medics nearby for assistance. You hang back, watching with nervous bewilderment, still wondering what’s going on. Someone shifts, creating an opening in the crowd huddled around the patient, and you catch a flash of bright orange—a pilot.

Your mind immediately thinks of Poe, panic tightening your chest…until you remember he’s out on a mission. He’s fine, you think, turning away from the commotion in an effort to distance yourself from your thoughts. And even if he wasn’t, he’s not yours to worry about anyway, right?

Yours. The word makes your chest ache.

As you check on the patients in your section, making sure their vitals are all still stable, you hear a shout from across the room. You turn your attention toward them just to make sure they don’t need help, before returning your attention to your tasks. There’s another shout, but this time you don’t bother giving it your attention; there are closer medics than you. A few moments later, Dr. Kalonia herself calls your name.

When you turn around, several medics wave you over.

“He’s asking for you,” the doctor says when you reach them, gesturing toward the patient on the stretcher. “Just keeps saying your name over and over.”

“Me?” you question, baffled as you step a little closer, anxiety settling in your gut.

She nods somewhat impatiently. “Just let him know you’re here so we can continue.”

“O-of course,” you mutter, scrambling into the opening they create for you.

You pause when you see the pilot, mouth falling open in surprise. He’s bloody and bruised, eyes closed tight as he writhes in pain, orange flight suit pretty much torn to shreds—

Poe.

The doctor calls your name again, shaking you from your surprise. Immediately, you lean in close so he can hear you. You tell him that you’re there, that he’s safe, that you’re going to help him, your voice low and soft. He doesn’t respond, just keeps mumbling your name over and over again, clearly in distress, his eyes squeezed shut in pain. You try again, voice calm as you clasp his hand in yours, your free hand pushing back his blood and sweat-soaked curls. One of his eyes opens slightly at your touch and, while you’re not sure he can actually see you, you smile. He squeezes your hand then, and your smile widens, relief flooding through you. Your name continues to fall from his lips, but it’s less anxious now, more content.

Once Dr. Kalonia and her team stabilize him, they move him to the quietest corner of the room in the hopes that he can get some rest. His care is transferred to you, your other patients redistributed among the other medics. He’d stopped murmuring your name a while ago, the meds the doctor had given him finally kicking in and easing his pain. He doesn’t let go of your hand though. You could probably slip out of his hold easily enough, especially in his current state, but you find that you don’t really want to.

You find out later that Poe’s mission had (apparently) gone awry and he’d been forced to commandeer a First Order ship in order to make his escape; that explained the base alarms and the sudden cessation of them, at least. As for what had been the cause of his many injuries, you weren’t told (classified information, apparently). Doesn’t really matter though, you suppose, so long as he’s alright.

You’d cleaned him up the best you could given the circumstances (sponge baths only helped so much, after all), gently washing his hair, his face. The doctor had come by a few times to check on him (and one other time to try and convince you to return to your quarters to get some sleep). You can tell that she wants to know why he’d asked for you, why your mere presence had calmed him, why you now refused to leave his side. The truth is, you don’t really know. You know you feel a connection to him, one that you don’t have with anyone else, but you’re not really sure what it means. Do you love him? No, it’s too soon for that, you think, you barely even know him. Still, something in your soul calls to him, yearns for him. You wonder if he feels that something too.

It’s later in the evening now, the chaos from earlier having passed. The medbay is quiet, most of the day’s patients either having been discharged or are already asleep for the night. You’re still at Poe’s bedside, eyelids drooping as you fight to stay awake. You know you should leave, should get some rest, but he might wake up while you’re gone and you don’t want him to wake up alone. His hand is still clasped loosely in yours, his skin warm and dry. You stare at it, at the dried blood still beneath his fingernails, wondering idly if it’s his own or someone else’s; what had he gone through to get back here? What he had lost?

At some point, you must doze off because one moment you’re staring at Poe’s hand and the next you’re waking with a start. You groan as your neck twinges, the angle at which you’d been laying with your head half on his bed making it ache.

“I know what you mean,” a familiar voice rasps softly.

Your eyes immediately shoot up to meet theirs—warm brown, tinged with mild amusement and fondness.

“You’re awake,” you say, cringing a little at yourself for stating the obvious. “How are you feeling?”

Poe smiles, then immediately winces as he shifts, his hand pressing into his side. “Spectacular.”

You grimace, eyes sweeping over him in assessment. “Can I get you anything? Water? More pain meds?”

He chuckles, then immediately winces again. “I’m good. Thanks.”

You nod, unsure of what to do or say next; you’ve gotten so used to taking care of him, it feels odd to just sit here now.

“Where’s BB-8?” you ask, only just now realizing the little droid hadn’t accompanied the pilot to the medbay.

Poe frowns, averting his gaze. “He got hit pretty bad before we got on the ship. They said the mechanics are working on him, but no one’ll tell me any more than that.”

“I can find out for you,” you offer, moving to stand to your feet.

He stops you, grasping your hand, wincing as the movement aggravates his injuries. “No, it’s fine. I–he’s in good hands. I’m just…worried is all.”

You nod, reclaiming your seat beside him. Silence falls between you, and while he seems perfectly comfortable, you can’t help but feel a little anxious.

“Thank you, by the way,” he says softly after a moment, his gaze falling to your clasped hands. “I…don’t remember much, but I remember hearing your voice. Not sure I’d be sitting here if it wasn't for you.”

You clear your throat, skin heating with embarrassment as you shift awkwardly in your seat. “Of course. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

He meets your eyes again, that ever-present something in his gaze making your stomach flip. “Me too.”

You keep him company for a little bit, the two of you swapping stories and telling jokes. He tells you about growing up on Yavin IV, about his parents and, in turn, you tell him about your homeworld, about your past. Dr. Kalonia stops by at the shift change, again trying to convince you to return to your quarters for some proper rest. You try to decline, but Poe insists, and it’s the care and concern in his eyes that ends up persuading you.

Weariness settles into your limbs as you shuffle down the hall, the events of the past couple of days catching up to you as the last dregs of adrenaline finally wear off. As you walk, you think about the time you’d spent with Poe and you smile, realizing he’d given you exactly what you’ve been longing for since you arrived here on D’Qar—a chance to connect, to be seen. When you finally make it to your quarters, you fall onto your bed, your brain going fuzzy as sleep rushes in quickly to claim you.

—

When you return to the medbay the next day, you spot Poe standing beside his bed with his back to you—he’s been discharged, you realize, disappointment sinking in your belly as you watch him pack up his things. It’s not that you aren’t glad he’s well enough to leave, you are of course, you’ll just…miss keeping him company.

You sigh, forcing yourself to look happy as you make your way over to him. If nothing else, you should at least tell him goodbye.

“Hey,” you greet, leaning against the side of the bed.

He turns at the sound of your voice, eyes brightening when they meet yours. ��Hey.”

“You’ve been liberated, I see,” you say, gesturing toward the bag on the chair beside the bed.

He chuckles, wincing slightly at the action. “That’s one way to put it.”

You nod, momentarily averting your gaze. “Heading to a briefing?”

“Nah,” he says, shaking his head. “Gonna go pick up BB actually.”

The knowledge that the little droid is alright makes your heart lighten and your smile softens. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.”

“I’ll be glad to see him too,” Poe agrees, smiling fondly as he slings the strap of the bag over his shoulder.

Silence falls between you as you struggle to think of something to say, something that’ll keep him there just a little longer.

“Thanks again…for everything,” he says finally, his gaze soft and open as it holds yours.

You nod, swallowing thickly as your heart stutters a little at the intensity there; you’re not sure anyone has ever looked at you like this, has made you feel like this, and you’re beginning to think it’s not just you. Should you do something? Say something? Who knows when you’ll see him again. You open your mouth, the words sticking in your throat as you try to force them out—

In the end, you can’t, your courage waning at the last second as you force your eyes from his. You sigh, frustrated with yourself.

“Please at least try to take care of yourself this time, okay?” you croak, wetting your suddenly dry lips.

He chuckles again, and you have to bite back a smile at the sound.

“But if I did that, I wouldn’t have an excuse to see you,” he quips; his tone is teasing but the words make your heart skip nonetheless.

You scoff, waving a hand as you meet his eyes again. “Please, you don’t need an excuse.”

“No?”

“Of course not.”

“Okay. How about later then?”

Your eyes widen a little with surprise; he’s not…is he?

“Later?” you ask, trying not to get your hopes up.

He shrugs, his smile almost shy as he scratches the back of his neck. “You said I didn’t need an excuse.”

That something is in his eyes again; that something you can’t exactly give a name to but feel in your soul, that something that seems to connect you both somehow.

“Okay,” you say, chewing on your bottom lip. “One condition.”

“Name it,” he says, brown eyes shining.

“It has to be outside of the medbay.”

He laughs, eyes crinkling as he smiles. “Deal.”

If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖

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Addendum - First "Date"

#poe dameron x you #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron fic #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron reader insert #my fic #should've called this 'something' with how often i used the word lmao

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happyhauntt · 7 months

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➡ faye's writing masterlist.

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a writer & his muse ── sirius black x reader [1k] ➡ renowned mystery writer sirius black has a new muse in his life, and unfortunately, it's you. castle!au.

la vie en rose ── sirius black x reader [1.8k] ➡ it's just a regular tuesday in july until an escaped convict appears in your kitchen. oh, and he happens to be your ex.

oh, captain! ── cedric diggory x oc [series masterlist] ➡ megan wynne jones wants to be the best, but there's one annoyingly perfect boy standing in her way: cedric diggory.

𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞.

haunted ── alina starkov x reader [1.1k] ➡ alina starkov is dead, except she isn't, and the memory of her haunts you constantly.

gold rush ── nikolai lantsov x oc [series masterlist] ➡ it doesn't matter what she calls him. pirate, privateer, prince, sobachka, her heart aches for a man she knows she can never truly have. nikolai lantsov, the hope of ravka. anya kamenev, ravka's bane. oh, what a pair they make. a series of interconnected oneshots about nikolai & anya.

𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬.

a grey day ── spencer reid x medical examiner!reader [1.3k] ➡ spencer meets the newest member of the department.

a lack of caffeine ── spencer reid x medical examiner!reader [1.8k] ➡ caffeine makes the world go 'round. that's something you and spencer can agree on. follow up to 'a grey day'.

bury these bones ── spencer reid x medical examiner!reader [1.9k] ➡ spencer’s day isn’t anything more than average, but a surprise phone call and impromptu hospital visit have him rethinking his expectations.

𝟗-𝟏-𝟏.

a touch of colour ── eddie diaz x reader [2.7k] ➡ eddie and chris' home is freakishly empty. you decide to redecorate a little.

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐬.

fight or flight ── poe dameron x solo!reader [1.6k] ➡ you and poe have never seen eye-to-eye. most days, you wonder if you ever will.

beautiful ghosts ── star wars [series masterlist] ➡ nearly thirty years after the empire’s fall, something darker has risen in its place. helmed by a monster who makes puppets out of lost, broken boys, the first order seeks to crush the galaxy once and for all ━━ and the resistance, led once again by general leia organa and her wife, colonel ashka cybele, will stop it by whatever means necessary. if that means sacrificing their children, then that is what they must do. multiple x ocs. a sequel trilogy rewrite.

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬.

burial ground ── finnick odair x oc [series masterlist] ➡ In District Four, they teach you how to survive the Games. They don’t teach you how to survive what comes after.

𝐝𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐨.

in the light ── the doctor x oc [series masterlist] ➡ the doctor doesn't believe in lost causes. fox is determined to prove them wrong.

𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬.

hello sunshine ── steve harrington x oc [series masterlist] ➡ cleo has lived in the house next door her whole entire life ─ and nobody has ever questioned what came before, not even once.

𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐢𝐚𝐟 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞.

we are a god ── rhaenyra targaryen x oc x alicent hightower [coming soon] ➡ none could have foretold, when viola first set foot in the red keep at the tender age of seven, the havoc she would wreak upon the political landscape of the seven kingdoms. least of all the girl herself.

inkpot gods ── jaime lannister x oc [series masterlist] ➡ a tourney at Harrenhal causes a war to ignite, and cassia finds herself caught in the very center of a world where good men do unforgivable things, and the bad men are even worse.

#happyhauntt masterlist #harry potter masterlist #marauders era masterlist #cedric diggory fanfiction #grishaverse masterlist #shadow and bone masterlist #nikolai lantsov fanfiction #doctor who masterlist #doctor who fanfiction #asoiaf masterlist #asoiaf fanfiction #alicent hightower fanfiction #jaime lannister fanfiction #rhaenyra targaryen fanfiction #steve harrington fanfiction #finnick odair fanfiction #* masterlist.

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arysbruv · 11 months

Text

Gone

You’re his best friend, and he is yours, though both of you don’t want to admit that there is definitely more than platonic feelings there. On a mission with Poe, you meet his ex lover Zorii who he still seems to like…

Pairings: poe dameron x f!reader

Warnings and whatnots : Angst and unhappy ending. Miscommunication (?)

Part 2: Found

You had been friends with Poe for years. Ever since you’ve joined the Resistance, he had been there for you and helping you, even though you both didn’t work in the same unit.

You were a medic while he was well, a pilot.

Normally, they never let you and Poe on the same mission. You were the chaos duo, something dumb was bound to happen if the both of you were together. Yet, this time was different. Leia herself had come up to you, Poe, Rey and Finn and ask you to go on this mission. Usually, you weren’t invited but apparently the planet was dangerous and you needed to be there to make sure no one died.

“How’s it feel to be part of team huh?” Poe asks, smiling as he flies the ship. You roll your eyes. “Good, but your flying is horrid.”

He only laughs. The laugh that sends shivers down your spine when you hear. The laugh that made your cheeks flush red and your brain dizzy. It made you drunk and nauseous. Or maybe it was his flying, you weren’t sure.

It wasn’t long until you landed on the planet. You were adorned in loose cloths and garments with shawls that covered your face to hide your identity. You held your medical supplies in a small basket weaved out of wood.

“You look stunning.” Poe says, as he gives you his hand to help you down. He winks at you, giving you his signature smirk.

“You too, Dameron.”

“Oh get a room!” Finn says, as Rey laughs beside him. We take no notice of them.

We were supposed to head to town and gather intel. The town was dangerous and robberies happened a lot. Mugging, killings, fights, they were the usual in this area. On the way there you had seen pools and trails of blood all over the pavement. No wonder you were asked to come. Even Poe seemed uneasy though he didn’t want to show it.

Poe grabs your hand, holding it tight and closely as you walk. Your heart flutters at his touch.

The bar that we were supposed to gather intel at was in the heart of town and we quickly found it. We entered, taking a seat near our target. We were making good progress and by the end of the night, we managed to complete the mission. I smiled as I walk back to the ship with Poe, Rey and Finn walking in front us. Poe was still grabbing my hand tightly.

“I’m not scared! I’m just making sure that you don’t get lost or hurt!” He had said.

“What a gentleman. You care about me so much hm Dameron?”

“Of course I do, love.”

The walk was going good when suddenly Poe stopped.

“Zorii?” He says, looking at a woman adorn in purple armour with a purple mask. I stood still, looking at her curiously, wondering how Poe knew her. Rey and Finn also came to an abrupt stop.

“Poe?” The woman named Zorii says.

Poe lets go of my hand, leaving me feeling empty. He goes up to her and hugs her, though she pushes him away. Yet, her body language doesn’t make it seem like she hates it. I stare at their interaction.

“Zorii! I missed you, how have you been?” Poe says

“Since you left? Shit.”

“Oh come on now darling. I didn’t know you missed me that much.”

“I really don’t. You left us Poe, we needed manpower and you left us.”

“You know for a fact that it wouldn’t matter if I stayed or left.” Poe explains. “You can just admit you still like me Zorii.”

Still like him? This girl had a crush on Poe, and he knew? A part of your heart broke as you hear his words. He said it with so much joy, a wide grin spread across his face.

“If you want to go out sometime we can. We can always start back where we left off.” Poe says, winking at her.

You could hear the sound of your heart shattering like glass hit with a hammer. You purse your lips and you watched them. You watched how he talked, how he stood, how he looked. He gave her a look. The look. He gave her the look that you thought he only gave to you. The smirk that he always gave to you. The eyes that glimmered only for you. Yet, here they were, all given to someone else. You chastise yourself internally. Had you meant nothing? Had you been so stupid enough to think that he would actually love you?

He was Poe Dameron. Esteemed pilot. He was highly decorated.

You… You we’re just some lowly medic that he had taken pity on.

The interaction between Poe and Zorii finally wrapped up but you couldn’t look at him the same. The joy that radiated off of you when you walked and saw him was no longer there, grief and regret filling its place. You felt your stomach churn and your heart beat. You move up to walk with Rey who gives you a sympathetic look. Finn decides to walk with Poe.

~ The days after the mission was torturous. Everywhere you went you saw him. He still didn’t understand why you were being so distant and yet you couldn’t muster up the words. It didn’t matter. He was never yours, and you were never his.

You couldn’t stand to look at him. To see him. To talk to him. Every time you did, every time you were forced to, it felt like a stab to your already broken heart. It hurt, you wanted to vomit.

It had been a week after the mission and you still couldn’t deal with it. You couldn’t deal with the guilt, the fear, the grief. You had to leave. You couldn’t stay here. It was interfering with your work and you didn’t want others to suffer due to your inability to control your emotions.

“Leia, I want to be transferred back to my home planet. I will still work and help with finding antidotes and other stuff but I can’t stay here.”

You had been ashamed to tell her. To explain to her the situation yet she understood and let you leave. She didn’t need you there to mess up. That was your conclusion.

So you left. You packed up your things and left in the dead of night when everyone was sleeping. When Poe was sleeping. You couldn’t even say goodbye. ~ Poe woke up, and immediately tried to find you. It had been an odd week. You had been distant from him and he couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to know what happened.

Had something happened? Was something bothering you? He wanted to know so he could fix it. He wanted to be there for you and ensure you were okay. You were his girl, even if you weren’t official. He loved you, even though he couldn’t muster up the words to say it.

He searched everywhere yet he couldn’t find you. He searched the medbay, the cafeteria, the library. Everywhere, he even went to your room where he was surprised to see it cleaned out. Did you move rooms? He thinks to himself.

It was evening time when he heard the news. Rey and Finn had told him. He had freaked. He shouted, and made a scene. It was a good thing there were all in Poe’s room at the time. Poe was a wreck. He didn’t understand. Why would you leave? Why didn’t you tell him? Did he do something wrong? Did you hate him? Why wouldn’t you talk to him?

Finn and Rey tried their best to calm him down but they quickly left after realising he needed to be alone. Poe grabbed his comms and tried to call you. He messaged you, called you yet never answered. He waited and waited but no reply came from you.

Eventually he left to lay on his bed, thinking of you. He stares at his ceilings. He had loved you, and you had left him. He thought… He thought that he would tell you yet he never could. He was a flirt and could always pick people up, but not you. You were different. You made him nervous. Poe’s eyes welled up with tears as he thinks about you, he covers his face.

Why did you leave?

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron fic #poe dameron angst #star wars

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melodygatesauthor · 2 years

Text

Break Your Fall

Poe Dameron X f!Reader

Part 12 of 28 in the February Fluff and Fuck 2023 Challenge

Day 12 Prompt - Accidental Injury

Summary: When Commander Poe Dameron jumps you while you're on a ladder, you unfortunately fall backward and land on his gorgeous face. While you're grateful he broke your fall, you feel terrible that you may have ruined his Valentine's Day date and do your best to make it up to him.

Tags/Warnings: SFW, fluff, accidental injury, minor mentions of blood and injuries, fluffy, cute, sweet, valentine's day fic, Poe is a flirt, reader is more clumsy than she thinks she is, reader is a little oblivious.

Word Count: 3.8k

“Damn it.” You said, leaning into the cockpit of your X-wing.

You heard your BB unit chirping away underneath you.

“Yes, get in there and see if you can figure it out, Otto.” You said to him before reattaching a wire that had been disconnected during your most recent battle.

“Hey!” You heard behind you.

You jumped. Normally you were sturdy on your ladder. Loud noises happened all the time and you were never so clumsy as to fall, but not today. Today the Maker blessed you with the clumsiness of a toddler and immediately you felt yourself falling backward.

“Oh shit!” You yelled as the ladder tipped, and you lost your footing.

You tried to grab onto something on the way down, but there was nothing. You were up high, and expected to hit the ground and have the wind knocked out of you, but instead your fall was much softer. You smiled, realizing that you were ok. That was close, that would’ve really hurt, you thought, letting out a breath. Otto started rolling over to you and chattering wildly, and you noticed BB-8 rolling over with him. That’s when you realized who had called to you, and that’s when you felt his body rustling underneath you.

“C-Commander Dameron!” You jumped up quickly and saw him lying on the ground, groaning.

“I’m…I’m fine.” He grunted, trying to sit up, “nope, nevermind I’m not fine.”

There was blood trickling down his face from his nostrils, and you noticed that he was favoring his arm. You’d really done some damage to him. You held the communicator on your wrist up to your mouth quickly. Panic was spilling out in your tone.

“We need medical over to hangar 2-C, Commander Dameron is hurt!” You knelt down next to him. You had a clean shop towel in your pocket that you pulled out and used to pinch his nostrils. “Are you ok?”

His eyes remained closed, “I hurt…a lot.”

Your heart was racing, “ok, ok well, just wait here, the medical team is coming to get you.”

“Why did you…couldn’t you find something to hang on to?” He asked, keeping his eyes still closed.

“You jumped me! Maybe don’t sneak up on people while they’re on a ladder!” You defended, but you still felt really bad. “I’m really sorry I…I’m not usually that clumsy.”

He finally opened those brilliant eyes. Having a crush on your superior was hard. Knowing that you’d probably broken his nose and he was going to hate you forever now was even harder. Internally you were yelling at the medical team for not being there yet to break the awkwardness by now.

Finally, a team of officers charged in with a stretcher and some supplies ready to help Commander Dameron get to the med bay. You moved out of the way quickly. They took over and checked him over.

“Yep, I think my arm’s broken!” Poe whined from where they were hoisting him up.

You saw through their bodies the dark eyed glare he sent you. Even if it wasn’t entirely your fault, he was going to make you feel bad. Commander Dameron had a tendency to be tough as nails in the field, but when it came to the common cold or a minor injury, he acted like death was at his door. You were sure he did it sometimes to get out of boring and mundane tasks.

“What happened?” The woman you recognized as the head of the medical team, Avra, said as they loaded Poe onto the stretcher.

“He jumped me while I was on my ladder and I fell back and landed on him.” You said. “It was an accident.”

She rolled her eyes, “He should know better.” She was used to Poe’s shenanigans by now.

“Is he going to be ok?” You asked as she started to walk away.

“It’s Poe, nothing can keep that idiot down for long.” She smirked before turning away and heading toward the med bay.

You stood there with a pit in your stomach. You’d injured the Commander. He couldn’t even move when you stood up. What was he doing scaring me like that anyway? You thought. It’s his own fault, right? It didn’t matter, if it was the Maker’s fault, you felt guilty, and you wanted to make it up to him.

He’d always been so kind to you. He was always willing to work with you when you were slow to learn something new, he always made well, and poorly, timed jokes to cheer you up when you were feeling down, and most of all he was a great leader. Even when things felt hopeless, he was there to give everyone hope.

“Hey!” You turned and saw your friend Arla coming your way.

Her smile was infectious, inspiring your own. You waved to her as she approached before putting your hands in your pockets and exhaling a deep sigh.

“What’d you do to the Commander?” She asked, nodding in the direction of the med bay.

You looked over there, feeling a pang in your stomach, a heavy reminder that you would be feeling guilty about this for months. You turned back to look at her.

“I fell on him. From that ladder.” You pointed to the metal apparatus that sat toppled over beneath your ship. “Think I broke his nose, and maybe his arm.”

She giggled, “y-you broke his nose?” Her small giggle turned into an eruption of laughter. You nervously wrapped your arms around yourself, hoping no one was paying attention. “That is too good. Prettyboy Poe Dameron with a broken nose.” She wiped a stray tear.

“I mean, it was an accident.” You said, walking back over to your X-wing and picking up the ladder. Arla followed after you.

Otto chirped away, rolling over to the ship to join you.

“No, I think we’re done for the day.” You said to him.

You were grateful when she decided to change the subject. “So, got any plans for Valentine’s Day?” She leaned against the ladder.

Your blood went cold. It was Valentine’s Day… You’d completely forgotten that it was Valentine’s Day, which made the fact that you’d injured Poe even worse. What if he had a date? What if his date never forgave him for not showing up for their plans and it was all your fault? The thought that you may have single handedly ruined Commander Dameron’s night and potential love life rendered you frozen in place with your friend snapping her fingers in your face.

“Hello…are you listening to me?” She sounded annoyed.

“I ruined his whole life.” You said vacantly.

“You wha-oh, Maker, that’s enough, you’re being foolish.” She patted you on the shoulder. “Just go check on him in a bit. I’m sure the guy is fine, it’s not the first time he’s been beat up.”

That’s just what you did. You waited until you were sure no one else was around and the medical tent had settled before you stepped in timidly to check on the banged up pilot. His arm was in a sling, but you were sure he would forgive you for that, it was his face you were worried about. Commander Dameron was attractive, everyone liked him. He had charisma, good looks, and charm that could kill.

You’d worked under him for a long time. In fact, he was the one who taught you how to fly. When you first joined you were a terrible pilot, able to get from point A to point B, but never much further. He’d seen to it that you were skilled enough to assist him in nearly any scenario, and you were proud to fight by his side. He probably hated you now, he probably wouldn’t want to see your face, but you had to apologize.

“Are you gonna come in or just stand there like a weirdo?” He asked, lips curling up at the sides in a smirk.

You jumped, not realizing he’d seen you, “I’m sorry!” You rushed into the room quickly so you didn’t continue to seem odd. “How are you feeling?”

He groaned, using his good arm to sit up further on the bed.

“Well, nose is busted, clearly, and I have a sprain in my arm, but nothing serious. Should be all fixed up in no time!” He didn’t seem upset at all which took you by surprise.

“I am so so sorry.” You shook your head. “I really didn’t mean to.”

“Yeah, you should be. I'll never emotionally recover from that violent attack.” He said, chuckling. “It probably didn’t help that I jumped one of my pilots while she was several feet in the air on a rickety ladder, but…”

“Is there anything I can do for you, Commander Dameron?” You asked, hoping there was some magic task he could give you that would make everything better.

“I’ve told you a hundred times to call me Poe. And actually, yeah, if you could go talk to Alex in inventory and grab a card for Valentine’s Day, I need one.” He said.

“Oh! For your Valentine.” You saw him struggling to reach for some water. “Let me help.” You rushed over and grabbed the cup. “Here.”

When you brought the cup to his soft lips you felt your heart stop when his hand reached up and touched yours gently. He just needs to stabilize himself, don’t read into it, you said to yourself. He just told you that he needed you to grab a Valentine’s Day card for him, remember? He already has someone he’s interested in, and it’s not you. Calm down.

No matter what you said to yourself, it didn’t stop you from feeling a bit jealous when you left the medical tent that you were running a romantic errand for Poe’s date. He didn’t owe you any loyalty, it’s not like he was your boyfriend, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the smallest bit heartbroken over the reckless Resistance pilot. He was gorgeous, yes, but he was also funny, kind, and loyal, everything someone could ask for in a partner.

You shook the thoughts from your mind while you approached the inventory counter. You had to stop thinking like that, he was never going to be your boyfriend, he clearly already had someone in mind. Alex, the bubbly man that kept track of everything coming into and going out of the Resistance base lit up when he saw you.

He said your name, “...how are you darling?”

“I’m good.” You smiled, unable to keep your sour face with Alex’s cheerful personality in your vicinity. “Um, I actually need a Valentine’s Day card.” You leaned on the counter.

“Oh?” He pulled out a box from below the counter, opening it to reveal an array of paper cards for any occasion. “You have a special person in mind?” He looked at you with a sly smirk.

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, “no, it’s not for me. Commander Dameron asked for it.”

He pulled out the Valentine’s Day cards from the box and put them on the table.

“Why didn’t he come get it himself?” He asked you.

You shrugged, “um, I think he was busy.” You lied, you didn’t feel like explaining to everyone in the Resistance that you’d broken his nose and sprained his arm. “What card would you get for a date? I don’t know what he wants, he didn’t specify.”

“Why don’t you pick one that you might like?” He suggested.

You shuffled through them at least three times before choosing the one that you felt would’ve best suited you if you were the recipient. Whoever got the card was going to be so happy. Imagining the smile on their face at first made you smirk, but then you felt that stab in your gut when you remembered that you didn’t have anyone getting you a card like this for Valentine’s Day and your smile subsided.

“Whoever he’s giving that to, I’m sure she’ll love it.” Alex said, putting the unchosen cards back in the box.

“Yeah…I think so too,” you said, “thanks Alex.”

“No problem darling,” he winked as you departed, heading back for the tent.

When you went back into the medical tent, Poe was shirtless while a nurse looked him over. You felt a lump in your throat and thought for a second that maybe you should turn away, but he beckoned you over as soon as he saw you.

“They were just finishing up.” He said, nodding at the nurse.

She gave you a kind smile as she left the private area of the tent the two of you were in.

“Oh, here you go.” You walked over and handed him the card.

“Thank you.” He set it down on the table at his bedside. “Would you be able to do me one more big favor?

You were glad that he was asking you for help. The truth was that it helped ease the guilt you had for falling over and hurting him. If you had been paying more attention, or at least not so clumsy, then he wouldn’t be in this situation. The least you could do was help him make his Valentine happy, since you likely ruined her evening too.

“Sure, anything.” You said all too eagerly.

“Could you go out into the woods and see what you can find for flowers? She likes the purple ones that turn more blue toward the center. Know what I mean?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah!” You chuckled, “funny, those are my favorite! I know exactly which ones you’re talking about.” You left the tent all smiles, ready to help him in any way you could once more.

One of the best things about D’qar was its beautiful landscape. The forest was filled with lush greenery and trees taller than any you’d seen on any other planet. It also had those beautiful pale purple flowers that you loved so much. It wasn’t their smell that captivated you. While the scent was lovely, it was the mauve hue that shifted into a deep blue that really made you smile. They were just so beautiful.

When you found one, you walked over to it and knelt to the ground. You touched one of the soft petals in your hand. It was a breathtaking plant. It sort of hurt to cut it from the ground the way you did, but you did it anyway, pulling your knife from your pocket and slicing the stem.

You found several others like that, and by the time you were done you’d collected at least eight. You found some other small white flowers to arrange with the bouquet that you’d made. Whoever this woman was would be so happy when she finally got to see what Poe had planned for her. Jealousy tore through you once again as you got closer to the medical tent with your floral collection.

You and Poe had been friends for some time. After spending a while teaching you how to fly, he also spent a significant amount of time teaching you about basic ship repairs and techniques with a blaster. He had been on dates since you’d known him, but none seemed to stick. While you felt a little envious of the Valentine’s Day mystery woman, you hoped that this one made him happier than the others.

Even with a broken nose, his appearance took your breath away. He was so handsome. Dark curls in disarray from the fall, smooth skin that begged to be touched, and eyebrows that always seemed to sit perfectly without need for plucking. You were squeezing the bouquet in your hand and Poe was looking out through an opening in the tent from his bed. You were sure being in the darkness on such a beautiful day was frustrating for him. Something else to feel guilty about.

“Do you want me to open a curtain for you?” You asked, placing the flowers on his bedside table.

He reached out and grabbed your hand, caressing your fingertips with his thumbs and flashing you a brilliant smile. Be still your beating heart.

“Thanks for grabbing those. That would be awesome. Dark as hell in here.” He said in his deep, sultry voice.

You felt your stomach drop. You wished he wouldn’t touch you like that. It only added to the sickly feeling that came with running Valentine’s Day errands for him and his mystery date. You gulped harshly and pulled your hand away, walking over to the tent flap and pulling it aside. You secured it with a string.

“How’s that?” You asked, turning back to look at him.

He was staring right at you with a soft, hooded gaze, “beautiful.”

You sucked in a breath, “ok, well if that’s everything…” You started to walk away.

“Wait!” He called to you, you turned back around. “One more thing, can you run to the kitchens and see if they have any wine? The pink kind, please?”

This woman had good taste, whoever she was. She liked the same kind of flowers as you and the same kind of wine. You nodded before leaving the tent once more. You wished he’d had you get everything all at once. You felt like that would’ve been so much easier, but instead you were running around back and forth, and your eagerness to help him was waning with every task you completed. Your jealousy was rising slowly, and you felt bad for that in addition to breaking his face.

When you got to the kitchen, it was easy to find anything. You had a friend in almost every part of the Resistance. It made it easy to get what you needed when you asked for something like pink moscato on Valentine’s Day.

“There’s only one bottle left, and it’s for Commander Dameron.” Koline said, shrugging. “Sorry.”

“That’s who I’m grabbing it for. He…he’s busy and said he needed it for his date tonight.” You were still trying to avoid admitting that you’d broken his nose and busted up his shoulder.

Your eyes were begging for her to trust you. Koline groaned and opened the fridge before turning and handing you the pink glass bottle.

“If that goes to the wrong place, he’s gonna have a fit. You know how he can get, so I’m trusting you with this.”

You nodded, “I’ll make sure it gets to him.”

You had every intention to bring him the wine. Walking was something you could safely say you were good at. One step in front of the other. How hard could it be? Apparently it was very, very difficult on this day. You found yourself tripping over quite possibly nothing, the ground coming closer to your face. You managed to stop yourself from getting hurt, save for a scrape on your arm, but the bottle of wine was a different story.

Liquid soaked into the soil of D’qar, and glass glittered everywhere. You immediately wished you could be like the wine, soaking into the dirt where no one could see you and witness your shame. You lay there on the ground for a minute, looking up at the sky, wishing you were anyone else. Not only had you totally ruined Poe’s day by destroying him physically, you now couldn’t even properly deliver his Valentine’s Day items he’d so kindly requested from you.

Before anyone had seen you, you got up and brushed yourself off. You sulked into the medical tent where Poe was laying right as you’d left him. You crossed your arms over your chest and wished you could disappear inside of yourself when his beautiful brown eyes locked on to yours. You noticed the flowers in a vase of water now at his bedside. The nurse must’ve taken care of them.

“Did you drink all the wine on your way here?” He asked, smirking at you.

“Commander I-”

“Poe.” He corrected you.

“Poe…I dropped it and it shattered.” You groaned, “it was an accident. I'm so, so sorry. I’m just so clumsy and stupid…” You let out a heavy sigh. “I just feel so bad. Like, I should’ve been more careful on that ladder, and now you have a date and I’ve completely ruined it twice!” You ran your hands down over your face, still thinking of how you wanted to disappear.

“Well, I wouldn’t say you’re especially clumsy. But dumb…?” He went to shrug but then winced.

Now he was just being hurtful.

“Ok, you don’t have to be rude-”

“Who else do you know in the Resistance who is as obsessed with these flowers and that wine?” He stared at you, waiting for an answer.

You gulped, “it’s one of the most common flowers on D’qar, and I’m sure the reason there was only one bottle left wasn’t due to lack of popularity.”

Poe pursed his lips in defeat, “Ok, fair…but…” he let out a heavy sigh. “Can you actually come here and help me?”

You stepped closer, “help you with what?” You asked.

“No, come here.” He beckoned you over with his good arm. “Stand next to me.” You walked over and stood at his side, and he grabbed your wrist. “I have to tell you something private, come down.”

You leaned over and then he grabbed your shirt collar and pulled your lips to his. You sucked in a breath of surprise before melting into it. It would seem that maybe you were, as he’d so kindly put it, an idiot. He’d been sending you around gathering all of those supplies for…you. You were Commander Poe Dameron’s Valentine. When the kiss broke, you felt like a pile of mush.

“It was all for me?” You asked, still unable to believe it.

“Of course it was.” He smiled at you.

You noticed blood trickling down his nose again through the bandage.

“Shit.” You scrambled to find a towel. When you did, you pressed it to his nose delicately. “I can’t even kiss right.”

“Oh, baby, that might be the thing you’re the best at, been waiting a long time for it.” His eyes looked like they were twinkling, and you were wondering if maybe when you used him as a cushion, you hit him a little too hard.

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#poe dameron #poe #dameron #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron romance #star wars #star wars fanfic #star wars fic #poe does my butt look big in this dameron #star wars smut #poe dameron fic #poe dameron fanfic #commander dameron #commander poe dameron #poe dameron fluff

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d0wnb4df0rf1cm3n · 2 years

Text

I didn't mean to love you so much.

Poe Dameron x Reader

Summary: You don't know what you have until it's gone. Or is it?

Word Count: 6.0K

AN: Hello lovely people, sorry the ending to this one's kinda shitty! Kinda got lost while writing it, but I hope y'all enjoy it anyway. All love!