#Poe makes a joke about taking a ride on the galaxy’s best pilot

[lotusbxtch]

So I was talking with @for-a-longlongtime about this photo of Oscar when she said something about how he is so Poe Dameron coded here and UH OH now I’m working on my first official posted smut drabble about f!Reader thigh riding Poe to completion after a mission because his flight suit turns her on so much, and he’s an obnoxious cocky asshole about it and may or may not get slapped… Anyone interested?

EDIT: Fic is finished! Find it here 👇

[hoeforpoeanddin]

NSFW Alphabet: Poe Dameron

Poe Dameron x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: NSFW so begone underage peeps. Mention of breeding kink and pregnancy

AN: Happy May the 4th! May the force be with ya kids. NSFW under the cut! Also I curse a lot.

Masterlist

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Very cuddly when y’all are at the base. After cleaning you up, he cleans himself and you two cuddle in bed, if you two have the time to do so. Sweet words, so many kisses and lots of touches are incorporated.

If y’all just had a quickie and Poe has to bounce, he’d give you so many kisses and as he runs to the door, he’d tell you that he’d miss you and everything. If it’s you who’s gotta go, Poe would be giving you them puppy eyes, silently begging you not to leave.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He KNOWS that he’s got a nice bootay. Oh he does. But he’s proud of his arms too, especially when you put your hand on them.

On you, everything. But if he has to pick, he’d definitely go with your ass/hip/thighs area. Love how they feel pressed against his body, under his hands and with his lips. To kiss though, he loves your neck. If he could, he’d munch on it forever. nom nom eat up Poe Dameron

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Ideally, he would like to cum inside you. The intimacy of feeling his cum in you is addicting. Watching your hole filled with his release satisfies something primal in him and he could stare at it forever. At the same time, he doesn’t mind going down on you after he emptied his balls into you. Tasting the result of you and his lovemaking doesn’t gross him out.

After returning from a mission where he couldn’t really take care of himself, he’d cum thick and a lot. On those occasions, he’d love to cum on your face or chest to brand you, if you are into that.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Not so much a secret because it’s obvious and you’ve noticed it already, but he LOVES to stare at the part you two are connected. A visual reminder of the closeness of you two, how well you’re taking him and how wet you two are. He loves all of it and he’d tell you.

Also, he would love to fuck you in a meeting. But even the risk of getting caught is too high for this adrenaline loving flyboy, so he just fantasizes about it. Or settles with fingering you in one.

As a former spice runner, he knows what spices can do to you so he definitely wants to try some with you.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He knows that he’s doing and he does it well because of the past experiences he’d had, whether that be one night stances, FWB relationships, or past relationships.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Any position that he gets to see your face, cup your cheeks and kiss you, HE LOVES. Missionary, spread eagle, cowgirl and the list goes on. He would like to stare into your eyes and see how desperate you are. Whispering dirty things into your ears, leaving marks on your neck and collarbone, and just… feeling you, that’s important to him.

But there’s no point in denying that he doesn’t appreciate doggy. He loves you ass.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Very. Humorous. He’d tease you, kind of make a joke of you being cock dumb and stuff. Sometimes, he jokingly bites you, leaves a random mark on your stomach, and tickles you with his scruff, just to lighten up the mood. He is serious enough but not too serious during the moment.

Though when you two were separated for a certain period of time, there’s no time for him to be goofy. He’d be desperate for the first round, all serious and want to be physically and emotionally reunited, and in sync with you. After the first round, he’ll crack some jokes.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Manscaping may not be the most prioritized thing for Poe at the moment, but he tries to take care of it for you. He won’t be clean shaven though, that’s just too time consuming to maintain it and he likes some hair down there, especially when your nose nuzzles into it during a blowjob.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Being intimate and romantic is owned and copyrighted by Poe Dameron. He’d kiss you, worship you, praise you, touch every inch of your skin and try to convey all the emotions he has for you through sex. Physical proximity is a must for Poe. So he would be just talking, dirtily obviously, and touching and kissing you. Constantly. Only during sex, you two can forget about the galaxy and he wants to show that he’s 100% focused on you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

When he’s away on a mission, yes. He jerks off. He may find some pornographic materials to help him or try to think of you. When you two are physically together? Hello mutual masturbation, Poe called and wants to book you for the weekend.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

As mentioned in E = Experience, he’s experienced. But he actually is not-too-crazily-kinky-but-experienced, so he may not whip out a handmade sex machine on you but he’s done the basics and some advanced shit.

He definitely has praise kink. This boy is a cocky hoe. He loves getting compliments and being reminded that he’s good to you. But let’s flip the table. He loves to praise the hell out of you, tell you how well you’re taking him and stuff. He just wants to be a good boi for ya.

Dry humping and rubbing too. He just likes to make sure that you know that he’s horny and how hard he is. For him, it’s not teasing, it’s a way of showing how needy he is but to you, it feels unfair. You want him inside you but you can’t deny the appeal of them.

He’s a verse, leaning more towards top but please, top him. He wants you to take control too. Loves it when you ride him and control his orgasm, telling him that he needs to be a good boy to get his reward and he’ll do his best to please you.

Once the war is over and your friends start to get married and have kids, he’d have a full-blown breeding kink. Creampie all the way. Would he get a plug? Yes. Would you slightly judge him for it? Yes. Would you still love him? Fuck yes. Would Poe use it on you? ABSOLUTELY.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Ooh. He loves thrills, adrenaline rushes and taking risks. So. In his X-Wing, the Falcon, a semi-secluded storage room, an empty room, anywhere that he gets to say “Be quiet baby, someone’s gonna see you getting fucked hard, you wouldn’t want that, do ya?” but really wants you to scream and let the whole base know that he’s fucking you that good, would be his favorite places.

But that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t appreciate loving you in your, his or you two’s quarters. It’s almost like a sanctuary to him, to forget about the world and the burdens you two carry for a moment and indulge in each other. But you two may be too loud, your neighbors might hate y’all and bang on the wall. Is that really private? Not sure. Does Poe care? He pretends to but actually he doesn’t. It just shows how good he is at making you feel good.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Not to be too cheesy and stuff, but anything you do. You flashed a smile at him when you saw him at the cantina? He wants to drag you into an empty room and rail you. You working hard and being serious? He wants to help you relax by eating you out.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything that accompanies excessive pain. Spanking may be okay but leaving you a scar, drawing some blood or straight up punching you, he can’t. He doesn’t want to hurt you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Won’t complain when you’re offering, in fact he loves it when you go down on him. When you seem to enjoy stuffing your mouth with his dick, he’s ready to cum hard. BUT. Poe is a pleaser. He loves to see his partner going crazy with his tongue and mouth, so he’d like to stay between your thighs forever. If you don’t feel like receiving his enthusiastic oral, he’d be terrified that he’s done something wrong but once you explain that you’re just not up for it for whatever reasons, he’ll respect you and your body but will miss drinking you up.

Ride his face. Sit on his face. He’d hold onto your thighs and will lap whatever you give him till you beg him to stop. He might cum if you stay on his face long enough.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Fast and sensual is his thing. Busy schedule is a prerequisite of being a pilot. So he may have to be quick but will make it heartfelt and sexy for you too.

But when you two have some time to indulge, HE WOULD GO SO DAMN SLOW YOU WILL BE BEGGING FOR A RELEASE. He likes to take time to show you how much he appreciates and cares about you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Look outside. There’s a war going on. Quickies are a part of your sex life. Neither of you mind them but Poe would say “Maker, I wish I could just be in bed with you, fucking you till morning right now.” that kind of stuff. He just wants to be with you. But hey, whenever he hoisted you up against the wall or a door, he seems to be living the moment.

Post-war quickies are rare but Poe loves the thrill and adrenaline of them, he’d definitely squeeze a quick fuck before you or him go into a meeting or mission.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

YES, HE LIVES FOR TAKING RISKS. I’ve been saying and I hate redundancy. Anyways, he wouldn’t hesitate trying something out that he heard or read about. When you bring up something you’d like to try, he’d be VERY pleased and eager to test it out immediately.

Please refer to L = Location as for risky locations that Poe is into.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Two rounds in a row, with a break, he can go a couple more. He can last long enough to make you cum with his dick.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He had a couple in the past but when he joined the Resistance, he gave up on them. Now he’s with you, when he goes on a mission and sees some toys being sold, he’d definitely grab one or two. Obviously to use them on you but he wouldn’t mind you using them on him either!

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Does he love to tease? Does he love to be unfair? A simple “yes” to those questions would be the biggest understatement of the year. Edging, teasing you, playfully denying orgasms, making you cum on his mouth for so many times yet refuses to fuck you with his dick, he’s creative with coming up with ways to tease you. When you’re whiny and begging, he goes crazy. He loves to see you being vocal and honest.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Vocal af. Grunting and moaning A LOT. Once he learns that you like it when he talks dirty, he will not SHUT THE FUCK UP. He’d definitely get turned on by how loud he is and how you’re enjoying it.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Before you two became a thing, he accidentally saw your underwear because your pants hung too low and he jerked off to the image MULTIPLE TIMES. Also he loves to see you wearing his clothes. Remember that tunic thingy he only wore once in TFA? Borrow it. He’d snuggle into you and won’t leave your side. The shirt he rocked in TROS? Wear it. He’d tell you how hard he is and show you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Above average but not too crazy. Thicker than the average for sure. It’s a pretty cock and he knows it. Also his balls are big. Not pendulous, but big and fit in your hands nicely.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Not as high as his younger self, but still high. Also he values sex not just as physical but also emotional and psychological act, so his desire to have you is pretty high. He wants to feel your pulses, body moving, breathing on his body and the warmth. He craves that. He wants a physical reminder that you’re with him, alive and well.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

After making sure that you’re cleaned up and nice and cozy, you two would cuddle and he’d doze off fairly quickly. He wants to stay awake and see you fall asleep, but he’s tired. Let that boy sleep. He won’t fall asleep without you in his arms though. Or check Sleep with Poe Dameron Headcanons to read more about Poe sleeping with you. Shameless self-plug is my middle name.

[fandom-blackhole]

This is for that Ships thing you’re doin!

1) I personally ship you with Thor. I could see you telling cringy jokes and him not really getting until way later, it’s like dead silent and he just starts cracking up! He tries to get you to put yourself out there but also likes to see you immersed in your passions.

2) I’m a bisexual female about to turn 21 🎉(still a couple months away tho) I’m a mixture of an introvert and an extrovert, I like to try and put myself out there but I always get anxious. My friends would probably describe me as the funny one, always making people laugh with my jokes and weird random noises and dances I do sometimes. I’m also the friend who gets left out of stuff a lot but I try not to let it show that it bothers me. I usually just keep my feelings to myself and then stay up all night thinking about my flaws... oh well! I’m hoping to go to school to be a veterinary technician because I love animals! I don’t have a preferred fandom but I’m super into Star Wars right now!

Hello!

I ship you with Poe Dameron!

Poe would absolutely love your jokes, and he would join you when you do your little dances. Poe would be one to push you out of your comfort zone a little bit, but not enough to make you uncomfortable. He would ALWAYS ask you to join him and his buddies, because not only does he really love being around you, but he also loves to show you off to his friends. Poe would constantly giving you some kind of praise, and if he ever found out about your 'flaws' he would go out of his way to make loving comments on each and every one of them. He strives just to make you smile, because its his favorite thing in the galaxy, even passing his love for piloting.

For dates Poe loves to take you for rides in his X-Wing, though he tends to just stay in the atmosphere or the surrounding area of the planet you are currently on. He loves to just smother you and kisses and hold you close. If he can't fly for some reason or another he will plan a cute picnic under the stars in a beautiful and perfect spot away from everyone else.

I absolutely adore the idea of me telling a really terrible joke only for this HIMBO to laugh at it like 10 minutes later

Hun, I completely understand being left out of stuff, that was literally highschool for me lol! Thank you for the lovely ship, and I hope you all the best in the future! 💕

[how-do-i-turn-this-thing-off]

The Rebel’s Last Stand

Chapter XXXVI: The departure from Ord Canfre, the promise

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To start from Chapter I, go here: https://how-do-i-turn-this-thing-off.tumblr.com/post/169184041771/oh-my-god-you-know-what-i-want-i-want-rey-to-be

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   The ship they'd given Ben was even more decrepit than the Falcon and when Rey saw it she couldn't help but smile reluctantly, almost wondering if this was Poe's idea of a joke.  In any other circumstance Ben would have probably complained about it loudly to her the moment he saw it, but today was the day he was leaving Ord Canfre to make his way back to the First Order and she had a feeling he would have felt the same about the occasion even if he was leaving on the most luxurious cruiser they could find in the entire galaxy. As it was he glanced at the ship and limited himself to commenting to Poe, “You do like your antique Corellian freighters, General.”

   “The Ghost is one of the best we've got,” Poe replied, looking the ship over fondly.  “Over eighty-seven illegal upgrades, plenty of firepower, impossible to track-- in some circles she's as famous as the Falcon.”

   “A high recommendation.”

   “Sleeps four, so that's what we're going with,” Poe continued as if he hadn't heard. “Finn, of course, and Chewie's going as pilot--.”

   “That won't be necessary, Finn will be enough,” Ben cut in.

  “Chewie requested the mission specially, and he's a friend, so you're just going to have to put up with it,” Poe countered, not looking around.  “You've got Rose in the last bunk, so that's the crew.”

   “Absolutely not,” Ben said much more decisively, stepping toward Poe so the Rebel would be forced to look up, towering over him by a head at least.  “This is going to be an extremely dangerous mission, no one's coming who isn't a fighter.”

   “Rose can handle herself,” Poe said, seeming, Rey privately thought, very much like he wanted to believe that but not very much like he did. “Besides, she's been riding my jet stream everyday about going on the mission as soon as she heard you were headed to Otomok.”

  “Rose is from Otomok, Ben,” Rey put in before he could keep arguing about it.  “She and her family were slaves in the Hays ore mines.”

  “She knows the system, the people, the ins and outs of the whole operation,” Poe said, propping his hands up on his hips.  “Believe me, I told her to leave you up to luck and the Force to decide things, but she wasn't having it.  If I didn't put her on the Ghost I think she would have shot me in my sleep.”

   Ben stared between them, his expression hard.  “If you're trying to convince me this is a good idea by telling me she has a personal stake in it then I'm even less convinced than before.”

  “She's already on board, Ren,” Poe said, jerking his head toward the Ghost.  “You want to be the one to take her back off again, be my guest.”

   Ren sighed, shaking his head.  “You don't know what you're putting at risk with this, General.  A First Order with Hux at the helm will be infinitely worse than anything you could have ever expected from me.”

   “Then make sure that doesn't happen,” Poe said uncompromisingly.  “You've had a lot to say about how all this is just one General you've got to take care of and you'll be able to settle it.  Time to put your credits where you mouth is.  And you get my people back to me, Kylo Ren,” he added, sticking a finger in Ben's face.  “Chewie, Finn, Rose.  And the ship too, actually, and in one piece, or we'll have a score to settle like you've never seen before.”

   “No promises in combat, General,” Ben said, looking away. Poe shook his head and left, not glancing at Rey as he passed, headed for the hangar door.  Ben studied the Ghost with a critical eye, noticing what any even halfway decent pilot couldn't fail to miss: the scars from old battles long ago, the much more recent scars that had been hastily patched up, the char marks of hidden gun ports, the scrappy additions, the rusting paint job that could have used an update a decade ago or two.  Poe had assured Rey twice that the Ghost handled well, that she was practically undetectable by any standard, that he'd been at her helm himself more than once and there was no ship he'd trust more for a job like this.  She wish she'd been able to take it for a flight herself just to be absolutely sure, but that was almost certainly unnecessary.  It was a relief that Chewie was going along, at least; if there was any being alive who knew more about Corellian freighters than that Wookie she couldn't imagine it was very much more.  It was just her nerves constantly telling her that everything was at risk with this mission, that if it ended badly that'd be the end of everything, that the odds outnumbered them so heavily as to be nearly impossible.  There was a tiny, panicky part of her that felt that way about every mission and had been proven wrong several times before.  Ben was powerful, well-trained, smart, and determined, maybe more than anyone else she knew.  He wouldn't get himself and her friends into a situation he wasn't sure they'd be able to get out of.

   “Guess that means I won't be asking you to promise to come back to me,” she half-teased once the sound of Poe's footsteps had faded and they were left alone.

    “I'm not coming back to you, Rey.”

   “You know what I mean.”

   “I don't,” he disagreed, turning towards her. “How long is this Resistance movement going to drag on?  Years? Decades?  There's always going to be someone up for a fight, some idiot with a blaster looking to tear everything down and build a shiny new galaxy in its place.  You really think that's going to make a difference?  That someday someone perfect and good and pure will be ready to lead us all into some glorious future?”

   “Any future's better than the one we have now,” she said, frowning at him.  Why did they have to have this conversation now, of all times?

   “That's not true and you know it,” he said, something urgent in his tone, his feeling in the bond like a well overflowing with what he wanted to say, now that this was the last chance he might have to say it face to face.  “Why can't the First Order be the ones to make things better?  What does it matter which idiot with a blaster it is, as long as they change things in a way that's better for everyone?”

   “Or an idiot with a lightsaber?” Rey suggested, seeing dimly where this was going.

 “I'm asking you if it matters, Rey,” Ben said, so close now she could nearly feel the heat of his body, everything suffused in the deep yellow light of the below-gas portion of this planet outside. “If it does what needs to be done, does it matter?”

   She studied him for a moment, not sure what was being asked, or rather, how many things were being asked all at once.  It was dizzying, everything he was saying, and she felt as though she could barely keep up.  “We have to do things the right way, Ben.”

  “Whose right way?  Is there only one right way?  What if-,” he added quickly, seeing she was about to respond, “-what if there was a way that was different, but not necessarily bad?  Like the Force lightning was not necessarily bad.  What if what needed to happen happened in a way that wasn't what you expected?  I'm saying give me a chance,” he said, looking down at her, his presence alone seeming to fill the hangar so that she couldn't look away from him even if she'd wanted to.  “The First Order doesn't have to be what it has been, and it doesn't have to be responsible for a terrible future that's worse than any other future we could have.”

   “Give you a chance for what, Ben?”

   “Let me do things a different way.  Convince them,” he added, glancing outside the hangar then back to her again.  “You can, if you try.  Poe, Leia, Sergeant, all the others-- it doesn't have to be a war.  It doesn't even have to be a fight.  Convince them that the right way doesn't have to be the one they expected.”

   “And then what?”

   “Let me try, Rey.  Once the First Order's mine again let me make it something else.  Or this just goes on,” he said, his voice dropping to an exhausted, almost plaintive sigh.  “On and on, and we're always the worst thing that could ever happen to the whole galaxy, and you're always millions of lightyears from me, forever.”

   She examined him for another long moment despite how little time they had to waste, weighing it in her mind, weighing his feeling in the Force.  It reminded her, oddly, of the day of the Red Battle, when he'd stood in Snoke's throne room and said something that had seemed very different then but now struck her as very similar.  But that offer had been on terms she never could have accepted, and this one--.

   “How serious are you, Ben?” Rey asked, already half making up her mind but needing to hear him say it.

   “I've never been more serious about anything,” he insisted immediately, his hands reaching for hers as he flared with almost reluctant anticipation, thinking she might be willing to consider the idea.

   “Then what if we make a bet?  Not even a bet, a deal,” she said, taking his hands as he offered them.  “If you can take the First Order back, I'll try.  I don't know if I can do it, but I'll try to set up a meeting, at least.  I know Poe would.  I don't know about the others but he'd probably hear you out.  BUT if you try to go back to the First Order and can't,” she added before he could agree without hearing the whole thing, “or if Hux has taken it over completely and you can't stop him; if you go there and find out you won't be able to get back in like you thought, then we do it the other way around.”

   “Meaning?” he asked, his feelings mingled hope and suspicion, both in one.

   “Meaning you join our side and we fight together.  Take the First Order down together. You've already said that if Hux is in charge things will get much worse, right?  Stop that from happening, but from the other end.”

   “Rey--,” he sighed, exasperation clear in every line of him. “You're not thinking about how impossible that would be.  Why in the galaxy would you believe the Rebels would want me even if I wanted them?  Just because Poe might not think I'm a bastard through and through anymore, that doesn't mean I can just throw my saber in the ring at any time and expect a warm welcome.  Besides, Poe takes his orders from Leia and her advisors, and we both know how Leia feels about me.”

   “Ammu--.”

   “Is not the blanket pardon you think he is,” Ben said, shaking his head but at least not trying to back away or let go of her hands.  “Have you suggested this to her?”

   Rey hesitated, knowing Ben would feel her conflict in the Force but unable to do anything about it even so.  “I wanted to,” she admitted, “but not before I talked to you about it.”

   “And Poe?  Sergeant?  Chewie, Rose, Finn, R2-D2?” he added sarcastically.  “Anyone at all?”  He could feel that she hadn't even without her having to say it and shook his head at her.  “Rey--,” he started, then stopped himself, blowing a breath out as he looked down at their hands. “Rey,” he said again after a long moment of his own, “you talk to them first.  Find out if there's even a chance at all that I would be given a place in the Resistance.  Start with Leia,” he added, all but rolling his eyes even though in the bond she could feel the sting that the words caused him.  “May as well get that disappointment out of the way.”

   “And if I can?” she pushed, squeezing his hands as if he was going to try to pull away, which he hadn't.  “What if I can convince them, Ben?  What if I get them to say yes?”

   “Then I would warn you that using the Force to control minds wears off after a while,” he said, actually rolling his eyes this time.  She stared at him, wanting to insist that it could be done, feeling her own doubt as clearly as she knew he would.  She might have a chance with Poe, with Sergeant, with her other friends, but with the rest of Command?  With Leia herself?

   “Your friends don't like me because of me, Rey,” Ben added, feeling what she was feeling.  “They trust you and they're willing to tolerate me for your sake, and even then it's only when their backs are against the wall and they don't have any other option.  But if you let me try it my way,” he said gently, softly, letting go of her hands with one of his so he could brush his fingers across her cheek, “then there's a chance.  A real chance.  One I can guarantee, and not one that relies on others.  Just on us.”

  Rey stared at him, silent, torn, wanting to believe everything he said but sure as well that it wouldn't, couldn't, be that easy. Still, to refuse Ben in this moment almost felt dangerous, or even cruel; it was clear that what he'd said, the offer he was making, was something he'd had in mind for a long time, probably as far back as the Red Battle, if only in part.  And if there was a chance, at all, to end this, not just for them but for everyone else involved in this bloody and seemingly continuous war, shouldn't she try at least on their behalf?  Or just agree that it was possible?

   “Solo, we're wheels up any minute,” Finn called, and they turned to see him coming down the Ghost's loading ramp.  “You ready or what?”

   “A minute, Finn,” Ben said, turning back to Rey deliberately. Behind him Rey could see Finn shaking his head at them but retreating into the Ghost, calling something up to Chewie.  The Ghost's engines slowly powered up, sending out a cloud of dust as they began to fire one after the other.

   “I think he took you literally,” Rey said to Ben, unable to help the smallest of smiles.

   “Rey, give me your answer,” Ben said, ignoring the ship behind him, his eyes and focus fixed entirely on her.  “Don't leave me waiting until our next bond meeting, or until the next disaster or the next time we face each other across a battlefield.  Give me a chance.  One chance.”

   “Give us a chance, too,” Rey insisted, letting go of his hands and reaching up to his shoulders. “Let me try.  Let me at least try.”

   “Let me try, too,” he insisted.

   “I'll agree if you will.  You take the First Order back, I'll get them to have a summit with you.  You can't take the First Order back, you join us.”  He visibly hesitated and she stood up on her toes, bringing her mouth to his, her lips barely an inch away so that she could feel his breath fan across her face. “Say it,” she begged.  “Say it, Ben Solo.”

   He hesitated, dipping his head towards hers but not trying to close the gap between their lips.  “Then you have to promise the same thing, Rey.  If I lose, I'll come back to you.  And the Rebels,” he added, able to sense the exact argument she'd use to respond to that.  “But if I win, and if I take the First Order back, then I want the summit and I want you.  Fair is fair,” he said, dropping his voice to a whisper as his lips brushed hers.  “I'm your condition, so you... you're my condition.”

   “I join the First Order?” she clarified, sure she couldn't have heard correctly, dizzy again with him, with the impossibility of what he was saying, what he was asking.  Having this conversation so close, right up against him, was going straight to her head, making it almost sound half possible, making it almost sound half right.

   “You join the First Order,” he agreed, hands on her back, pulling her into him.  “You join me.”

    She shouldn't.  She shouldn't even think it, shouldn't consider for a moment pretending that was even an option, shouldn't agree to anything even remotely like it.  But Ben was... Ben was her, in her mind, in the bond, in her heart, until all she could breathe and think and feel right now was him.  And she almost wondered if it mattered how it happened, who was right, or more right, or right in a different way, if it brought them back together.  How wrong could anything be, really, if it brought them back together?

   “Alright, Ben,” she breathed, leaning into him, but he pulled back just far enough to keep their lips apart.

   “Promise,” he ordered.

   “No promises in combat.”

   “Promise anyway.”

   She was defeated and she knew it.  There was no pretending otherwise.  He had her in the bond, her had her standing here, he had her any way she could think of.  “I promise,” she whispered.  “Me for you or you for me.  Either way.”

   “Either way,” he agreed, finally pressing his lips to hers, a kiss like pure longing, a kiss like the kiss alone could meld them together across the stars, connecting them with a unspoken but unbreakable promise to kiss again exactly the same way, and again, and again, sealing the promise over and over as many times as it took for them to come together and to never, ever, have to come apart.

   “Finn's on his way back,” Rey murmured, breaking away from Ben after what had definitely been more than a minute but had felt like an eternity.

   “I know,” Ben said, gently stepping away from her.  “I'll see you soon, Rey.”

   “May the Force be with you, Ben Solo,” Rey said with as much sincerity as humanly possible, her heart beating the words, the bond echoing them.

   “May the Force be with you, Rey,” he said, the bond humming with it, and with their mutual hope, their mutual fear.  Then he turned away just as Finn came down the ramp to shout for him again, and he walked to the Ghost and boarded.  Rey left the hangar by a side door just in time to see the light freighter swoop out into the open air and ascend through the permanent layer of yellow gas blanketing the planet.  In only a moment, Ben was gone.

/////////////////////////////////

Chapter XXXVII: https://how-do-i-turn-this-thing-off.tumblr.com/post/189891200801/the-rebels-last-stand //////////////////////////////////

A/N: finally, we get to the conversation that needed to be had, the do-or-die moment of this couple.  The really interesting thing is which to hope will happen more?  It’d be very, very fun to write either way

My Ao3, and all my Reylo stuff:

https://archiveofourown.org/users/how_do_i_turn_this_thing_off

[curiousjan]

TROS is Fake News - A Fix It

In the interest of being able to join in the impending holiday cheer I will be considering the following version of the events of TROS the real story:

Poe, Finn, and Chewie return in the Millennium Falcon to pick up Rey from her Jedi training with Leia. Rey is clearly still not interested in anything beyond friendship with Finn and avoids him as he constantly tries to get her alone. When he finally gets a moment with her she interrupts his confession, thinking he is going to confess feelings for her. Instead, he tells her that he's realized he can sense the force and wonders if Rey would train him. She refuses, remembering her visions of accepting Kylo Ren's hand and ruling the galaxy beside him. Instead, she says he should train with Leia. Finn is disappointed but agrees. Poe accidentally eavesdrops on the conversation and is elated when Rey rejects what she thinks are Finn's romantic advances. In his next scene with Finn, he can't stop smiling, causing Finn to notice and comment on it.

When Rey explodes the transport ship and thinks she's killed Chewbacca, she spirals into depression, causing her friends (especially Finn) to fear she is succumbing to the dark side. They will not discover Chewie is actually alive until later when he manages to escape with the help of a defecting storm trooper (Jannah, who does not yet have a name here) who takes pity on him and gets him off the ship. Chewie escapes in time to rescue his friends, to their great surprise, just as Kylo Ren has tracked them down yet again and is closing in. Chewie fixes the Millennium Falcon and they all to escape.

They return to the resistance base and reunite with Rose, who has just been cleared by the medical team to get back to work. She and Finn have a few awkward encounters before Rose decides to address the kiss and make it clear she knows he does not return feelings for her but that she just wanted to kiss him goodbye when she thought she was dying. Rose says something that hints she believes Finn and Poe are in love, which causes Finn to reevaluate his relationship with Poe. Finn has never had a romantic relationship before. He spends a lot of time stare silently at Poe, instead of joking easily with him, which causes Poe to think he's decided to remain on the base and train with Leia. When he finally admits to Finn that he overheard the conversation about the force, and that he will be sorry to leave Finn behind on their next mission, Finn says he has no plans to do that, and Poe tells him that he is glad and that piloting the Falcon doesn't feel right without Finn.

Jannah and Finn become fast friends, and Poe is clearly jealous. When they meet his ex, Zorii, on the next mission and their relationship begins to rekindle with a lot of playful banter and flirting on her part, Finn is clearly jealous.

Jannah comes with them to the ruins of the death star, and both she and Finn are astonished and moved to meet the group of ex-storm troopers there. Rey does not go off alone when told it will be best to wait until the weather calms to sail to the ruins. They spend the night with the former storm troopers, and Finn and Jannah share stories around a fire. This is where Jannah gets her name, given to her by the group in a tradition they have created for naming themselves. When they ask Finn how he got his name, he recounts how Poe gave it to them, and the two share a moment that does not go unnoticed by most of the others. Rey is oblivious because she is too concerned with getting to the way-finder as soon as possible, before Ren finds her again.

When they sail out to the death star wreckage, the clear weather immediately turns violent as soon as Rey is close to the ruins, as if purposefully trying to separate her from her friends. She and Finn are in the first boat, and Poe is with Chewie on the second. Jannah and the leader of the storm trooper group are on the third. The 2nd and 3rd boats have to stop and take cover on one of the bits of wreckage behind Rey and Finn. Kylo Ren arrives and they all watch the ensuing duel between Rey and Ren with horror, and Poe especially as he watches Finn try to intervene a few times before being knocked into the waves. Poe pulls him out of the water as he washes up next to their piece of wreckage.

After Rey heals Ben, she uses the force to retrieve her sunken boat, sends it to Finn and the others, then takes Kylo's ship and disappears without a word. The group prepares fearfully to face Kylo Ren, but Ben Solo only stands up, appears to be talking to himself (and I'd prefer to put Leia's voice only here instead of a vision of Han), then throws his light saber into the water and sits down, facing away from them.

They are all uncertain of what to do, and sit waiting for the weather to clear, watching him. After a while he gets up, chucks his helmet into the water as well, and begin to undress (to the disgust and confusion of the group). He sheds and discards his outer garments into the water, and paces back and forth.

Finally, Poe calls out to him and with a few comedic lines of banter first, discovers that he is now “Ben Solo”, and asks if he needs a boat. The group argues over who is going to be the one to ride back to shore with “Ben”, and Finn volunteers. He wants to know what Ren said to Rey that made her run away. Poe is distraught, and doesn't want to let him go sacrifice himself to the enemy. Finn says that if Rey thought Ben was going to kill them she wouldn't have left him alive. Poe wonders if Rey's gone to the dark side, and Finn says he can feel through the force that she has not turned, and that he thinks they can trust Ben. Everyone thinks he is nuts but they let him go to Ben.

Ben rides with the crew on the Falcon back to the resistance base and hides in the ship. He has agreed to turn himself in after he helps Rey defeat Palpatine. Once again, Finn believes him while the rest are skeptical. They are even more skeptical when Ben and Finn steal a ship and disappear to find Rey. Poe covers for Finn, explaining he's felt Rey needs help through the force, and soon after they get Rey's signal that leads them to Exegol.

Ben arrives on Exegol and goes to find Rey while Finn takes the ship and joins the fight. Instead of getting thrown all the way down the pit, the force-ghosts of Jedi past break Ben's fall and he climbs out in time to stand with Rey and defeat Palpatine. They both appear to be dead for a moment, then Leia's body disappears. Ben reaches for Rey's hand. After a moment, she takes it firmly. The color slowly returns to their bodies. They sit up, embrace, and kiss.

Ben once again hides on the Falcon, and is discovered during the celebrations by Maz Kanata, who reveals that Leia had a vision of her death and her son's rebirth, which she shared with a select few. She  later implies to Rey that she should tell everyone Ben died fighting Palpatine with her, and allow him to go into hiding.

During the reunion after the battle, Finn and Poe finally kiss, initiated by Poe. (The half a second shot of the ladies smooching can stay in as well).

Final scene is the same, except when Rey is asked her last name, she is joined by Ben in the frame of the shot, who says "Skywalker" before putting his arm around Rey. The old woman remarks she never heard of Luke Skywalker having a son, and after a wink from force-ghost Luke and a smile from Leia, Ben and Rey simply smile at the woman. Ben's scars are healed, his hair is shorter, his skin is tanned, and he barely resembles himself when smiling. As long as they are careful nobody will ever know he is Ben Solo/Kylo Ren. The last shot of them playfully dueling in front of the setting suns reveals they both have new light sabers, both yellow.

Disclaimer:  I suspect the ending is yet another fake out, and this was not “the end”. Disney is playing us.

[fallintothegrey]

Dusk Till Dawn - Chapter 11

Also on AO3.

Rey slept through most of the ride back to Akuria II. She had scrunched herself into a ball in the co-pilot’s seat, her arms crossed tightly over her chest and her legs drawn up. He chuckled lightly to himself when he caught her head bobbing as sleep took her, before she finally let it lull back against the seat. Every so often, she snored softly. Once Poe had the U-wing safely in hyperspace—or as safely in hyperspace as the old girl could be—he went into the hold and retrieved a blanket for her. After he spread it over her, she pulled it up to her chin without opening her eyes, murmuring what sounded like a vague “Thank you.” He smiled fondly at her and returned to the pilot’s seat.

BB-8 rolled up behind his seat, beeping a quiet inquiry.

Poe turned to the droid and patted his domed head before glancing over at the sleeping woman beside him. “She’ll be alright, buddy. But I am going to take her to medical when we get back.”

BB blipped.

“I want her to get checked out. Just in case. The bacta’s helped, but I’m not a medic.”

The droid spun his head quickly towards Rey, almost like he was checking to make sure she was still asleep, before whistling a question to his master.

Poe chuckled down at his friend. “Yes, she is pretty special, buddy. I agree.”

BB’s photoreceptor widened as he asked Poe another question.

Poe’s cheeks flamed, and he stole a glance at Rey. “I do like her. She’s a good friend.”

The infuriatingly cute and curious astromech bleeped a third question.

Poe’s eyes widened and he practically choked, trying to cover the shocked reaction with a cough. He spun around to glare at the droid. “We’ll talk about that later.”

BB beeped in protest, but Poe cut him off. “No, we’ll talk about it later. And about what questions are and are not appropriate to ask.”

He thanked the Force that he heard a quiet snore to his right as the blush slowly faded from his face. That blasted droid would be the death of him.

The rest of the flight back to Akuria passed uneventfully, Poe occasionally humming to himself to fill the silence in the cockpit while Rey slept on and BB-8 sulked in the hull.

After he’d pulled into the hangar, he reached over to gently shake Rey awake. She slowly opened her eyes, blinking at him several times.

“We’re here,” he said quietly.

“Did I sleep the whole time?” she asked as she unfolded her limbs, languidly stretching her arms above her. A peek of her midriff showed and Poe swallowed heavily, turning his eyes away.

“As soon as we hit hyperspace, you were out like a light,” he said as he focused his attention on shutting the ship down. He added with a smirk, “Don’t worry, you only snored a little.”

“You should have woken me. That must have been a boring flight without anyone to talk to.”

He shrugged. “Not my first quiet flight. Besides, you needed the rest after that blow to the head.” He stood, walking toward the hold where BB was already unloading parts. “Speaking of which, let’s get you to medical.”

She appeared behind him, so silently and so close that he nearly jumped out of his skin. “I’m fine,” she protested. “It doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

He turned back to her, his face serious. “This isn’t up for debate, Rey. You’re getting checked out.”

“I’m fine, really,” she declared, grabbing a box of parts and starting to walk off of the ship.

Poe took the box from her—practically ripped it out of her hands—and grasped her hand, guiding her from the ship. “I don’t want to pull rank here, but I will. You’re going to medical—that’s an order.”

He looked back just in time to see her jut out her jaw and he steeled himself for a fight, but she rolled her eyes and answered, “Yes, Commander Dameron.” He tried not to let the bite of her response get to him.

She let him lead her through half of the hangar, as he did his best to ignore the knowing smiles of his squad, before she planted her feet and jerked him back. He stumbled, much to Pava’s entertainment. “You can stop dragging me, Commander,” she said cheekily as she tucked her arm in his. They walked the rest of the way out of the hangar and Poe could feel his friends’ eyes burning on his neck.

Once he’d deposited Rey in medical, giving the medic droid instructions to do a full examination despite her objection that she’d only hurt her head, he returned to the hangar. Finding that some rookie recruits had already unloaded the U-wing and started inventory, he lingered in the bay door before wandering towards Ebon One. Thankfully, Jess and Karé had left, so only Snap remained near the X-wings.

“Hey Snap,” he called out to the pilot, “have you got any cigs?”

Snap straightened from the panel he was working on and turned to grin at Poe. “That bad, huh?”

He assumed as casual of an expression as he could. “Maybe I just want a cig.”

Snap quirked an eyebrow at him—apparently he hadn’t looked as casual as he had hoped. “Yeah right, Dameron. I have known you long enough to know that you only smoke when something is especially frustrating you. And I’m guessing said frustration is a certain young Jedi.”

“You’re full of shit, Wexley!” he said as he shoved the pilot.

Snap shoved back. “No, I think you are.”

“Are you going to give me a cig or not?” Poe ground out, hackles starting to rise.

Snap reached into the inside pocket of his flight suit and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He handed one of the narrow cylinders to Poe. He took it and mumbled a gruff “Thanks” before turning on his heel and walking away.

“Hey Dameron,” he heard Snap call behind him. He was tempted to just keep walking, but he looked back at the other man. “You’re allowed to feel things,” he said. “You may be the poster boy of the Resistance, but you’re not a symbol—you’re human. And you’re allowed to feel things.”

“I’ll feel things when they won’t get me or anyone else killed,” he replied sternly.

“Whatever you say, Poe,” Snap said with disappointment clear in his voice. “I just hope you get the chance.”

Poe sighed. “Me too, Snap, me too.”

With that dismal conversation weighing heavily on his mind, Poe found his way to the observation deck attached to the hangar. He pulled a lighter from his pocket and flipped it in his hand a few times. It was a gift from Han Solo to his dad following the Battle of Endor. Kes had pressed it into his hand when he’d flown home to tell him he had joined the Resistance and made him promise to bring it back. Much like his necklace, he took the lighter with him everywhere, finding comfort in having a bit of both of his parents with him when he went into battle.

He lit the cigarette and took a long drag on it, squinting into the light of the sunset glinting off of the icy landscape. He waited for the sense of calm that usually came when he smoked, but it never did.

His head was a doshing mess. He didn’t know what the hell he was doing, or what he should be doing. Snap was wrong—he did feel things, they’d just hurt him too much in the past to let that happen again. He used to feel easily, far too easily, but it wasn’t like that had ever ended well. So there he was, standing there with a cigarette, trying to convince himself that he didn’t feel anything for Rey.

He told himself he was doing it to protect Rey. He didn’t have a great history of keeping the people he cared about alive, after all. But he also knew he was doing it to protect himself. Rey was something more than Poe ever could be, and eventually he would be left behind, either alive or dead. That thought didn’t bother him, per se, because he knew in his bones that she was destined to save the galaxy. But that didn’t mean that he needed to set himself up for that pain.

He seemed destined for that pain, though, because he couldn’t stop himself from feeling this, whatever this was—admiration and interest certainly, maybe desire. And he wasn’t helping himself at all, what with the nicknames, and holding her head in his lap, and being a sentimental bastard and saving her doll. She just had to thank him with a kiss, too—he could almost feel her soft, warm lips on his cheek still.

His friends had to conspire against him with the knowing glances and playful comments—and infuriating questions from his droid. He wished that BB’s endearing but sometimes humiliating curiosity was just a bug that he could fix with a system diagnostic or something that Pava had put in his program as a joke, but that unfortunately was not the case. He had never thanked the Force more than he did when he saw that Rey had stayed asleep during BB’s little interrogation. Where the droid would have gotten the idea to ask Poe if he was going to give his mother’s ring to Rey, he had no idea. Maybe he’d been spending too much time with Karè and Snap in their wedded bliss.  

He mulled these things over, blowing smoke into the snowy wind with a sigh, when he heard a voice behind him. “I didn’t know you smoked.” He turned to find Rey, a larger bacta patch on her face and bruising starting around her right eye. He noticed, with a pang in his stomach, that she was wearing his jacket.

He turned, letting the hand holding the cigarette fall. “Only when I’m stressed.”

“Wouldn’t that mean you’d be smoking all the time?” she asked as she walked up to join him at the railing.

“Only when I’m really stressed, then, I guess.”

“Did something happen?” She looked at him with a concerned expression on her face.

He leaned on the rail, dragging on the cigarette one last time before throwing it into the snow bank below. He turned to study her face, his gaze lingering on the bacta patch. “Yeah,” he sighed, “you scared me.”

She scrunched her eyebrows together in confusion. Gesturing at the bacta patch, she said, “The medic said I’m fine. Just a cut. I don’t even have a concussion like you thought.”

“That’s not the only thing I’m talking about.”

“Oh,” she murmured, her face falling.

He ran a hand over his face. “Kriff, Rey, what are we doing?”

He watched her fold her arms over her chest and hunch her shoulders, as she turned her gaze to the snow-covered ridge. “What do you mean?” she asked reluctantly.

“Four weeks ago, we found out we’ve got some weird Force connection that lets you hear my nightmares. Then when we’re sparring, you throw me against a kriffing wall using your mind and you only let me go when I yelled into your head, which is kriffing insane. And then you disappear on me and don’t talk to me for two weeks. And we go to Jakku, and you get hurt, and I take care of you, and then we go on like nothing happened.” He walked closer, nearly reaching out to touch her shoulder but stopping himself and shoving his hand in his pocket. “I can’t go on like nothing happened, Rey.”

He heard her sniffling. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, before turning to walk away.

He desperately grabbed at her arm. “Please don’t leave,” he pleaded. “I need to talk to you. I need you to talk to me.”

She pulled out of his grasp. “No, I need to go. It’s better, it’s safer for you if I go.” She shrugged out of his jacket and tried to force it into his hands.

Poe threw the jacket on the ground. “No, it’s not. It’s not better for me if I’m distracted by you, by this tension between us. It’s not safer if I can’t concentrate because I’m worried about you.”

“Then stop worrying,” she bit out. “I’m fine. I can take care of myself—I’ve already proven that to you.”

“You’d still be on Jakku, bleeding out from a head wound if I hadn’t been there to take care of you,” he fired back.

“I would have figured it out. That’s what I did for sixteen years!”

A harsh wind whistled around them and Poe looked out to see a fierce snowstorm brewing, dark gray clouds roiling. He hunched his shoulders to the gale and turned back to her.

“You don’t have to figure it out by yourself, Rey!”

“Yes, I do, Poe!” she yelled.

“Why?” he bellowed over the wind.

“Because I care—” she said, the wind stealing the rest of her words away.

“What did you say?” He foolishly hoped she’d said what he hoped she had.

She didn’t respond to his question, instead continuing on. “For the first time I can remember, I’m not alone and I’m with people who don’t want to manipulate me and I can’t bear hurting anyone or making anyone hate me. I can’t bear anyone else leaving me.”

“We’re not going to leave you.”

“Yes, you will!” she cried, the wind pulling her hair from her buns and whipping it around her face. “So it’s easier for me if I go.”

Poe’s heart squeezed at the pain in her voice. He tried to reach for her, but she pulled away. “We’re not going to leave you, Rey,” he insisted. “I’m not going to leave you.”

“You don’t know that.”

He reached out again and she didn’t pull away this time. He cupped her chilled cheek in his hand. “Yes, I do,” he said. “You’re one of us now. And we don’t abandon our own—never.”

Rey looked up into his eyes, a tear rolling down her cheek. “What do you want from me, Poe?”

He wiped the tear away with his thumb before answering, “I want you to let me help you.”

“I’ll hurt you, or worse.”

“No, you won’t.”

“You don’t know that!” She pushed his hand away and turned from him again. “I felt the Dark side.”

“But you came back,” he implored. “You came back to me. Because you are the light.”

“I still might hurt you—or worse. And you’ll fear me. I can’t take you fearing me, Poe.” Her voice shook.

“Then hurt me. Break my bones. Kill me if you must. Do your absolute worst. I will never fear you, Rey.”

“Do you promise?” Her eyes were wide as she looked up at him.

A tired half smile tugged at his mouth. “I promise. I won’t abandon you—so please don’t shut me out anymore.”

Her internal debate played out over her face. After a few moments, instead of answering, she launched herself forward, clinging to him. He brought his hand up to the back of her head, stroking her hair. “I won’t, I promise,” she murmured into his shoulder.

As they stood there clutching at each other, the clouds finally opened up and unleashed a squall of snow, coating them instantly in white powder. Poe looked up and laughed, before ducking to grab his jacket from the ground. “You’re going to want this back,” he chuckled as he draped it over her shoulders.

She looked sheepishly at him as she slipped her arms back into the jacket. “Thank you,” she mumbled.

He just nodded.

She sagged against the railing. “Kriff, do you have another cigarette? Now I’m stressed.”

He chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry, I only got the one from Snap.”

“Dosh it,” she cursed.

“Besides, I wouldn’t want to corrupt you.”

She shoved his shoulder. “You’re full of shit, Dameron.”

He laughed, “You’re the second person who’s said that to me today.”

Her eyes glinted. “Then maybe that means it’s true.”

“I’ll tell you what,” he said as he reached into his pocket and closed his hand around the lighter. He held it out to her. “You hold on to this, and the next time I want a cigarette, I’ll have to bring you one if I want my lighter back.”

She hesitantly grabbed the lighter, considering it for a moment before tucking it into the pocket of his—her—jacket. “So does that mean you’ll corrupt me yet?” she asked saucily.

He cleared his throat, casting his eyes away from her. “Um, sure.”

She studied his flustered face for a moment before laughing loudly, the noise echoing through the snow clouds. “I’m joking, laser brain,” she said as she shoved him again.

He shoved her back, chuckling in response. She grabbed a handful of snow and blew it in his face in retaliation, to which he grabbed her around the waist and spun her, their unison laughter rising to the heavens.

He came to a stop, realizing suddenly that Rey was looking down at him, that he had her in his arms. He let her gently sink to her feet, keeping his eyes fixed on hers as he did. The smile on her face lit the gray clouds above her as she reached up to ruffle the snow out of his hair. His heart felt like it would beat out of his chest when her eyes flicked down to his lips for a second before returning to his eyes. He reflexively did the same, holding his breath when he noticed that her full lips were parted, her tongue briefly flicking over her bottom lip.

He realized then that his droid wasn’t the one who would be the death of him. No, this woman, this incredible woman—she would be the death of him, in one way or another. But, he thought as she laughingly shook the snow out of her hair, he’d die a happy man, surrounded by light.

A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day, have some angst! But it ended happily! Hope you enjoyed!

[yessoupy]

not finished fic, but i wish it were

the summary i wrote without realizing it was a summary and i’ve got about 4500 words of this that will go nowhere but. i tried.

Corellia.

He’d left home when he was eighteen years old, trying his hand at the family calling -- saving the planet. Into the CorSec Academy he’d gone, but after earning his Bloodstripes and losing the most important person in his life, he left the system for the Starfleet. He found his place on the hangar deck and hadn’t returned home until the Resistance had sent him back in a series of diplomatic missions.

With Hosnian Prime vaporized and the structure of the New Republic’s government effectively destroyed, every reason Corellian businessmen had given him before as to why they could not support the Resistance were gone. Marek heads back, this time with Poe on hand, to charm whomever he can into donating a few good starships to a worthy cause.

And oh yeah -- Poe has to meet the family.

fuck it, i’ll post what i have here under the cut. it’s been fucked to hell by TLJ. in fact it’s pretty certain that everyone mentioned in this outside of poe and leia has been killed, which is such a fucking waste???

Marek Antilles is sweaty, smells of droid lubricant, and has worked three straight shifts when he’s summoned to the base headquarters. He tries his best on the walk from the upper hangars to make himself look presentable, but there’s only so much he can do with his oil-stained hands and exhausted body.

He does manage to snap off a sharp salute when he enters the headquarters.

“At ease, soldier,” General Organa says kindly, and Marek allows himself to relax just a bit. “You look dead on your feet,” she observes, and Marek nods.

“Yessir, I’ll be off my third shift here soon.”

General Organa raises an eyebrow. “Third shift in a row?”

“Yessir.”

She turns to Admiral Statura, who shrugs. “We’re short-handed. He’s our best mechanic. We can’t afford to make mistakes.”

“Well son, take a seat here and let’s get to it.”

Marek eases himself into the chair after his superiors have sat. He knows this is probably about another diplomatic mission. After the destruction of Starkiller Base and all the rest of the battles leading up to it, the Resistance has even fewer ships and soldiers and pilots and it’s all a bit overwhelming, thinking of what he could be sent out to do next. There’s so much to acquire.

General Organa clears her throat and Marek focuses on her again. “I’ve got a mission for you, and with it you’ll get a little break.”

Marek tenses. A break? “Where am I off to this time?”

Admiral Statura chimes in. “Back to your home, Corellia. With Hosnian Prime gone, there’s been an increase in material support.”

There’s a sick and twisted part of Marek that is almost glad the First Order had laid waste to most of the New Republic’s politicians. He hasn’t ever been able to get a straight word out of any of them, and even when faced with the truth of what the First Order had done to harm innocent beings, they would hem and haw and refuse to back the Resistance. “I would expect that to be the case,” Marek says instead.

“You’ll take a freighter, and there are a few days we’ve worked into the schedule that you can have to yourself. Visit your family,” General Organa says gently.

“I appreciate that,” he says, and he really does. He misses his parents, his Uncle Josef, his grandparents. “All of our freighters are two-being crew minimum, who’s coming with this time?” While he’s interested in getting to know many of his fellow freedom fighters, there’s just one he’d want to meet his family.

“We’re sending Commander Dameron with you.”

Marek’s heart leaps at the words. “Poe? He’s coming with me?” They haven’t had more than a few hours to themselves since they joined the Resistance. The hectic schedules they’d kept with the New Republic Starfleet were lazy vacation days compared to their lives with the Resistance. “Please say you’re serious, I don’t think I could handle a joke in this state. Sir.”

“I understand how draining this experience can be,” General Organa says, and Marek can’t think of anyone who really would understand better than her. “It’s important for your continued contributions to our cause that you have a rest, and that you get to experience the kind of life you’re fighting to preserve for beings across the galaxy. We don’t need or want mindless drones fighting for freedom. Commander Dameron needs a break and refuses to stay grounded. As much as you might consider this a favor from me, please know that taking him off my hands for a mission will save me a lot of headaches.”

“I’ll send you the mission details,” Admiral Statura breaks in, and Marek nods. “You’ll leave in thirty-six standard hours, taking The Hide’s Teeth, that Corellian freighter we picked up last week.” He checks his wrist chronometer and winces. “I’ve got to be off, Major Ematt’s waiting for my input about base relocation.”

“Should I pack up our quarters then as well?” Marek can’t wait to get off D’Qar. It’s hot and wet and wreaks havoc on the starfighters. He knows Poe will miss it a little, for as much as it reminds him of his own home.

“That’s a good idea, if you’ve got the time and energy. If not, we’ll have droids do it should you not be back before relocation commences.”

Marek is sent on his way back to the hangar, finishes up his task list, and trudges back to the quarters he shares with Poe. They’re so seldom together that sometimes it feels like he’s living alone, even with Poe’s possessions taking up space on every spare surface.

Poe’s there when he arrives, and by the state of their quarters (relatively clean) Marek assumes he’s already been briefed. Poe launches himself at Marek before the door has even slid shut and Marek leans gratefully into Poe’s arms. “We’re going to meet your family!” Poe says happily, squeezing him tightly.

Marek laughs tiredly. “Yeah, we will.”

Poe pulls back. “You don’t sound that excited?”

“I’ve been on my feet for 24 hours straight.”

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

The thing is, Marek would be a competent pilot if he wanted to do something like captaining a freighter for some company. He’s perfectly serviceable in getting himself around the galaxy, but to be an Antilles and only serviceable... it’s not like his family has actively looked down on him, but it’s hard not to feel like a disappointment. He’d been proud of his name until he’d failed in CorSec, and since then all he’s wanted is to just get rid of it.

He looks over at Poe, who’s happily leaned back in the captain’s chair, eyes flitting over the instrumentation as they await leaving hyperspace, and he wants to laugh. The irony, that he’s been trying to shed the Antilles so he won’t be expected to be a crack-shot pilot, it kills him. He’d take Poe’s name in a heartbeat, if he asked, and Poe was the best pilot since Wedge Antilles -- Marek’s cousin.

“What are you smiling about over there, love?” Poe asks, turning that soft gaze directly on Marek.

Marek feels his cheeks heat up. “Nothing.”

“Oh come on, share! We’ve got nothing but time right now.”

“Just that -- just that I love you. And it’s nice seeing you in your element.” Neither of those things are lies.

“Oh, this cockpit isn’t my element. This ship is too large and clumsy to truly exhibit my magic touch.”

“Go on, cocky flyboy. Don’t miss our re-entry. Wouldn’t want to end up in Corel.”

Poe grouses about all the safety mechanisms a ship like this has to keep that very thing from happening, “You just end up further away and it takes ages to get in-system, really, I could get us closer but Statura doesn’t like it when I mod the freighters.” Marek lets him ramble on, bring them out of hyperspace and respond to the flight control’s inquiries about their purposes in this fine system.

Poe gives control of the ship over to Marek, who’s more familiar with the airspace. That’s the excuse he gives, but Marek knows it’s Poe being gentle with him. He doesn’t know if he should feel thankful or babied. He gives his name and the ship’s designation -- The Hide’s Teeth, Marek has no idea what that’s referencing. His name gets them a prime slot at the port and he’s made it this far but the heavy feeling of guilt settling in his stomach had to show up sometime. There’s not a trip to the system that he manages to avoid it.

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

Marek is decked out in all his Corellian glory. Poe eyes him up and down from his seat on the galley couch where he’s lacing up his boots. His eyes linger on the yellow Bloodstripes stitched down his trousers, and it does something to Poe to see his man wearing his military decoration. He doesn’t wear them on base, and Poe still doesn’t know the story behind them.

“One day,” Marek promises, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Poe agrees, words belying his impatience to know. “What’s the first stop on our itinerary?” They’ve been docked for a standard hour getting cleaned up, grooming habits off-planet lacking in civilization. Poe is truly along for the ride. He’s not a diplomat at all, but Marek says his presence will give his requests -- and demands, if they’re honest -- more weight. Corellia is, after all, a sucker for a good pilot.

And Poe is the best.

“Well, we’re in Coronet City now. I’ve got an appointment with a board member of the CEC. That’s a big deal, but it could be mostly show and just because you’re along for the ride.”

“Anything I need to know about this board member?”

Marek sighs. “He sponsors a scholarship for wayward youths to attend military academies to become pilots. He likes to say that if his eyes were better he’d be a pilot, too.”

“So he’s got credits to burn,” Poe surmises.

“He does, but we need ships more than creds.”

“Would he give us creds? Then we could buy ships.”

“It’s not that simple. It’s difficult to buy ships if you’re identified as affiliated with the Resistance. Corporations get blacklisted for aiding rebels. What good is a handful of cash if no one will exchange goods for it?”

“Then why are we even bothering with this guy?”

Marek takes a seat on the couch next to Poe. “He’s got creds, and he’s got influence. Say we make a good impression. He’s got connections all over the system. Maybe we impress him -- maybe you impress him -- and he leans on some other guy and we end up with a freighter. Fully outfitted, wouldn’t that be nice?”

“Would be nice,” Poe agrees.

“So we put in our time with Garm Temblik at the CEC headquarters and then we’ve got drinks with an important politician. She was on the fence last time I was here, and Starkiller Base ... well, she might be willing to make a stand, finally.”

“And tomorrow?”

Marek squeezes Poe’s hand. “Tomorrow we go out to Lumin and you meet my family.”

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

They take the mag-lev train from the spaceport to downtown Coronet City. It’s been so long since he’s been in real civilization, Poe marvels a bit at the hustle and bustle of the beings around them. They’ve been off fighting a war for months now, and here’s a city full of people continuing on like billions of beings hadn’t been disintegrated in the blink of an eye.

“This is wild,” Poe comments as they stand outside the headquarters of the Corellian Engineering Corporation. “I can’t believe you’ve been out here like this, going back and forth.”

“Each time it gets more disconcerting,” Marek agrees. “Ready?”

Poe straightens his formal jacket and brushes a bit of dust off the front. “As I’ll ever be.”

“Just remember -- I know you’ll be tempted to scoff at him and tell him how it really is, but don’t. Flatter him. He’s really not that bad.”

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

Garm Temblik is a charming man. Poe had been put off by Marek’s description of him, always wary of the politicians who can talk but can never do, but he is soon laughing along with the filthy rich aristocrat and leaning in as he tells Temblik a particularly lurid story from a mission he’d undertaken while with the New Republic. Temblik’s belly laugh is genuine, and when the story is over Temblik turns back to Marek.

“Mr. Antilles, thank you very much for bringing Commander Dameron to visit with me. I feel as though I can live vicariously through his adventures.”

“It’s no trouble. General Organa felt it was necessary to give the Commander a break from missions, but he refused to stay grounded and volunteered to be my pilot for this trip home.”

“You’ll take him to the old homestead, I assume?”

“We have plans for that tomorrow.”

“And this evening, I hear you’re taking Assemblywoman Starline for drinks.”

“She requested a meeting, that’s true.”

“She reached out to me for my advice. Of course I told her to see you. I’d do more if my hands weren’t tied, but you know I can’t offer the Resistance anything officially.”

Marek waits a beat. “But unofficially?”

Temblik leans back in his chair and pulls open a drawer in his desk. He fishes around and places a datacard on his desk. At the man’s nod, Poe reaches for it and loads it into his datapad. “You’ll find a list of sympathisers there, the list you’ve been requesting. After Hosnian Prime was zapped it frightened the pants off a number of fence-sitters. Starline included. She’ll tell you tonight that she can’t promise you anything, but push her. Lean on her humanity. Commander, List Three contains the coordinates for a number of re-sale yards with ships that aren’t on any inventory. I’ve made arrangements for you, but you’ll have to convince them the investment is worth it.”

“It is,” Poe insists. Temblik nods.

“I know. I trust you can make them see it.”

Marek scans the list over Poe’s shoulder. “Mr. Temblik --”

“Please, call me Garm.”

“Garm, I ... I don’t know what to say. This is more than I expected.”

“Is it really? I thought I’d been up-front with you about my intentions here. Maybe the message got lost in the shuffle.”

“You had, but ... I suppose I’m only disbelieving because this is everything we wanted, really. It isn’t often that we get that these days.”

“Well, it’s about time, I suppose.” Temblik looks up at the ancient chronometer on the wall and clucks his tongue. “Boys, I’ve got an appointment in a few minutes and I can’t keep them waiting. I trust you’ve got everything you need there? Should I send for a transport?”

“No need, we’ll take the mag-levs,” Poe answers, standing as Temblik does with Marek following soon after. “Thank you, sir, you don’t know how much this is going to help our cause.”

“Don’t forget me, Mr. Antilles. When the time comes to name out the supporters, I expect to be right there at the top.” He winks to pretend a joke, but Marek knows that a large part of Temblik’s support is being made with an eye to his image. They shake hands and Marek assures him that his generous work will not be forgotten.

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

It isn’t until they’re sitting down with Assemblywoman Katta Starline that Poe realizes he’s holding at least a dozen death sentences in his datapad should it fall into the wrong hands. Marek hadn’t had time to brief him on the way to the swanky bar and Poe feels dreadfully out of place. Marek’s Bloodstripes had gotten them prime seating and a round of ale on the house. It’s the first time he’s seen what that decoration can do and it only makes Poe want to know even more.

“So this is the famous Poe Dameron,” Starline begins. She can’t be much older than the two of them, but her hair’s gone gray at the temples and there’s a weariness in her eyes that age her a decade. “Just as handsome as reported.”

“Now Katta, we’ve been over this --”

“Taken, I know. One day I’ll get that story out of you, but I understand we’re here to discuss business, not pleasure.”

Poe flushes and Marek squeezes his knee under the table. Starline orders a complicated drink from a sentient waiter, not a droid, and once they’re alone Marek gets down to business. “We were with Garm Temblik today. It seems as though there’s been a shift in positioning among many people in your same situation.”

“There has, that’s true.”

“Can we count you among them?”

“You know I’ve always been a supporter of the Resistance --”

“Not formally, no. Just in the shadows.”

“It’s difficult for someone in my position to openly align herself with admitted rebels. You have to understand --”

“We understand,” Poe breaks in. “But all the rules have changed. It’s no longer rebels fighting against a group that may or may not be a true threat. We know it is a true threat, and a threat to the New Republic specifically. Hosnian Prime is gone. I know you lost friends that day.”

“I did.”

He doesn’t press after that, letting her think of those friends gone in the blink of an eye. The waiter brings Starline her drink, and Marek waves him off before Poe can order another round.

Marek picks up where Poe left off once the waiter is out of earshot. “Your influence on this planet, with these people, is so important for our cause. If you were to openly support the Resistance, it would tip the balance.”

“Marek, I need time.”

“We don’t have time.” Frustration is evident in his voice.

“A few days. Surely you can spare that? You’re not leaving Corellia tomorrow, are you?”

“No, we -- we have more meetings planetside and a few days to arrange for the additional ships to be transported out to the new base.”

“Have your meetings, and I’ll contact you in two cycles. There are some conversations I must have before I can give you my full-throated support.” Starline finishes off her cocktail and sets the empty glass on the hovertray nearby. “It was lovely to finally meet you, Commander. Marek here is a private fellow, as you know, but it’s always been difficult for him to conceal his affection for you.”

“Thank you for meeting with us, Assemblywoman. Your support, however you’re able to offer it, is appreciated.”

Marek says his formal goodbyes and they watch as Starline effortlessly cuts her way through the crowded room. They should be on their way, but the waiter approaches them again with another round of ales -- “From the Duro over there.” -- and it seems impolite to turn away the drinks.

“Think if we stick around long enough someone will buy us dinner?”

“Probably.”

“Do they even know your name, or is this just the expected reaction to spotting someone sporting Bloodstripes?”

Marek shrugs, sipping his drink. “They might know me, but it wouldn’t matter.”

“Do they know what happened?”

“If they were on-planet when it happened, it’s likely.”

Poe is eyeing his ale like it contains the secret to life. “I’ve known you for nearly five years, love. I understand that it’s not something you like to talk about, but all these strangers know --”

“Could know. I don’t know every single Bloodstripe winner in the galaxy --”

“-- All these strangers could know, and could walk up to me at any moment and say something, and I wouldn’t know what to say. Are you ashamed of what happened? Is that why you don’t wear them off-planet?”

“I’m not ashamed,” Marek says firmly.

“Talking helps, you know,” Poe says quietly. Marek knows that Poe has seen his share of traumatizing events. And Poe knows that you don’t just win Bloodstripes for showing up to a blaster fight. Marek is good when it comes to taking compliments, he’s got a healthy ego, but whatever happened to put those stripes on his trousers has him hurt. “I don’t want you to feel hurt,” he says out loud, then finishes off his ale and stands. “Alright, enough heaviness. Up with you, let’s find a traditional Corellian diner and stuff ourselves silly with real food.”

“I’m not sure you could handle the spices, Poe --”

“You haven’t had any Yavini food, have you? You let me decide what I can handle.”

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

They rent a transport to take from Coronet City out to the exurbs where Marek’s family still is. His parents have talked about moving off-planet, but they love their property and for all they complain about the vagaries of living on a politically turbulent planet, Marek knows they’d never leave.

“Okay, brief me. Any topics I need to steer clear of?” Poe is sitting in the passenger’s seat staring at the blur of the foliage outside the windows.

Marek laughs. “Uncle Jo hasn’t been off-planet in his entire life. Try not to act surprised if it comes up. We’ll probably get embroiled in a discussion about how much quicker the war would have ended if the Corellian Resistance fighters would have just stayed on Corellia and not joined the Alliance --”

Poe laughs. “Are you joking?”

“Absolutely not. Two of those fighters were my parents, another my Aunt Jarmila. It’s Uncle Jo’s favorite topic.”

“So am I the first man you’ve brought home to meet the parents?” Poe’s tone is light, but Marek hears his question for what it is. Marek tightens his grip on the transport’s yoke and tries not to let his frustration show. It’s not Poe’s fault. He has no idea what scab he’s picking.

He says lightly, “We’re close, and you’ve got to remember that I didn’t leave the system until seven standard years ago. It would have been suspicious had I kept that part of my life a secret.”

Poe makes a noise of understanding and Marek winces at his doubletalk. The guilt curls tighter in his stomach and the closer they get to Lumin, the closer they get to his story not being his to tell.

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

Marek is suspicious of how easily the conversation is flowing. His family have accepted Poe with open arms. He knew they would, but it’s a relief to see it actually happening. He even feels ... settled. Like bringing Poe home and letting his family see that he really is okay almost made him actually okay. But it’s only a matter of time before --

“Marek here earned his ‘stripes fighting the Human League. First Antilles since Jaromir, even beat out Cousin Wedge.”

And there it is. “Uncle Jo --”

Marek looks to his father for help, but he’s engrossed in his pie. His Aunt Jarmila would jump in, but she’s in the kitchen with Grandma Felicity and the dishes.

“I haven’t told him that story.”

“Why not?” Uncle Jo looks scandalized. Of all of his family, Josef had been the most proud of Marek’s actions that night. It was quintessentially Corellian, according to Josef, what Marek had done.

“Respectfully, Jo, I think Marek wants to tell me about that in private. In his own time.”

Marek could just kiss him. He settles for throwing Poe a grateful look.

Josef huffs and gets back to his pie.

---Marek---

It’s odd, lying in the same room he’d occupied as a child. It’s no longer his room, his mother had long since converted it into space for visitors, and that’s a good thing, too. His old bed would be much too small for him and Poe. This one is more spacious than their standard-and-a-half on base and he’s looking forward to a good night’s sleep -- safe, warm, and showered.

Poe returns from his own shower and the air is cool enough in the room that Marek can see the steam rising from his bare skin. “There is nothing in the galaxy like a real shower with piping hot water.”

Marek smiles. “You say this every time you get one.”

“When you grow up with something and it’s taken away from you abruptly, you appreciate it when you’re afforded the chance to greet it again.”

“Every time.”

“I truly believe that the day I take a hot shower for granted is the last day I get a hot shower.” Poe shrugs into an old worn shirt from Marek’s later youth. It’s got a barely visible design inked onto it from some event he’d attended while in upper division. It feels like two lifetimes ago that he was that young. He hadn’t even left the Corellian system until he joined the New Republic Starfleet, and now he’s ... well.

Poe groans as he slides into bed next to Marek. “This bed is like a vacation all by itself.”

“Should I be jealous of the guest bed in my childhood home?”

Poe scoffs and leans close to press a kiss to Marek’s mouth. “Oh no. Ninety percent of what makes this bed a vacation is your presence in it.” Poe moves to deepen the kiss but Marek leans away. “Please?” Poe pouts.

“I want to tell you about it.”

“You want to tell me about kissing me?”

“I want to tell you about my ‘stripes.”

“You’re ready?”

Marek sighs. “I’m not ready, exactly, but Uncle Jo isn’t going to keep his mouth shut and I’d rather you hear it from me first.” He takes a deep breath and tells the story of his ‘stripes, of taking the mag-levs with Caz down to the city, a casino with a stage where freed Twi’lek dancers put on a show. He leaves out how they’d held hands for the first time out in public, exchanged sweet kisses once they’d taken their seats. He tries to keep his narrative straight-forward, like he’s being debriefed. He tells of the Human League cell, the siege at the casino, and how they’d been there for hours before they saw an opening.

Marek glances over at Poe, who’s been silent the whole time, just listening. “I hadn’t been in a situation like that before. Neither of us had. I kept thinking, If only Dad were here or My grandfather would have taken these guys out already.”

Poe only nods at him to go on.

“We couldn’t speak, they would have heard us, but I always knew what he was thinking. We made a plan. There were hundreds of beings in that room and they were going to kill every non-human. I knew it, in my heart. And Caz, he --” Marek pauses, physically pressing back against the ache in his chest. “Caz knew it too. We saw an opening. We knew that we would die, but that’s what we’d been trained to do -- put ourselves in harm’s way to keep Corellia secure.” I gave him one last kiss. “They say you ‘win’ the Bloodstripes. Like it’s a game. I’ve always had trouble with that. Maybe if you’re living it’s okay. You make a decision to put your life on the line, and you come out alive? Yeah, you’ve won. But saying Caz won his -- first class, the red ones -- it’s like a sick joke. Everyone else was so proud of him and I just hated myself.”

“Caz was your lover, wasn’t he?”

Marek nods, and the tears leak out of his eyes, unbidden. “I had everything, you know? I had the love of my life and a job where I felt like I belonged, finally. Then it was gone, and I had these scars, some ‘stripes, and a bunch of condolences from people who didn’t get it. Twenty-one years old and I felt like my life was over. I had to leave CorSec. It was so new, and that night was our first real time together out in public. We hadn’t told anyone together, and only my mother knew, then. Everyone thought they understood because I’d lost a brother-in-arms, but they were wrong. I couldn’t see his photo up in his locker, I couldn’t pretend I was mourning a friend. I had to leave. Mom helped me find a spot with the Starfleet.”

Poe reaches out and lays his hand on Marek’s wet cheek. “I love you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What do you have to be sorry for?”

“I still feel so guilty. First for being here and he can’t be, and then more guilty when I think about you, and how I should just move on, that wanting him here means not wanting you --”

Poe shushes him. “Survivor’s guilt plagues all of us. You don’t have to suffer alone in it. I understand it.” He smiles sadly. “He’d want you to be happy. You know that.”

[lotusbxtch]

The Best Ride in the Galaxy (one-shot)

Pairing: Poe Dameron x f!Reader

Summary: You have a thing for Poe's flight suit. He decides to be a cocky asshole about it. Sexy shenanigans ensue. Word count: 2k

Warnings: Explicit 18+, MDNI! Mostly porn with a little plot // Established relationship, thigh riding/dry humping, vaginal fingering, swearing, name calling, use of pet names (English and Spanish), dom!Poe, brief light violence (slap to the face), Poe uses a Spanish pet name (bebita) which is probably not canon but idc it's hot, no physical description of reader besides being AFAB and being taller standing than a sitting Poe, Poe makes a corny joke, Poe being a cocky smug asshole comes with its own warning, no use of y/n

a/n: This picture of Oscar & his thick-ass thighs, and @for-a-longlongtime mentioning how Poe-coded it was, inspired this fic in its entirety. A little over 24 hours later and here it is! This is my very first posted fic, so please show it some love, send it to someone who might enjoy it, and feel free to give (constructive) feedback if you wish! If I missed any warning tags, please let me know and I'll add them in. Big big thanks to @for-a-longlongtime for beta-reading and cheering me on, it means the world to me.

You run outside as soon as you hear the X-wings land, your heart in your throat. 

It’s been 7 days, but when he left, Poe promised you it wouldn’t take more than 4 for his small band of rebel fighters to complete the covert mission. Of course he insisted on going with them; he’d been stir-crazy as of late, the endless strategy meetings and arguments amongst leadership boring him to tears. He jumped at the chance to get back into the pilot’s seat. You paced restlessly those last 3 days, imagining the absolute worst had happened to him, with no way of knowing if he was even alive.

So when you rushed out to the tarmac and spotted him climbing out of his X-wing, immense relief flooded your body, followed quickly by a potent swirl of both anger and anxiety. He spotted you, his eyes lighting up, jogging towards you with that brilliant smile.

“Hey good-lookin’,” he crooned as he approached, “didn’t miss me too much, did you?”

What he didn’t expect was for you to slap him straight across his face.

You surprised the both of you - Poe was staring back at you, open-mouthed and silent, a rare occurrence; you were staring at him, anger flashing in your eyes, your palm stinging slightly from the impact.

“Baby, I know you weren’t keen on me leaving,” Poe stammered, “but this seems a tad bit–”

“I THOUGHT YOU WERE FUCKING DEAD, YOU ASSHOLE!” you snapped at him, loudly enough for the people around you to look around for the source of the outburst. “You told me four days, Poe, and it’s now DAY FUCKING SEVEN.” You turned and started storming back to your pod, Poe on your heels.

“Bebita, I told you it was a small team,” Poe tried to explain while keeping up with you. “We hit some hiccups in the plan and had to hide out a bit longer than we thought. If I’d tried to contact you, it would have given away our position. You know how these missions go.”

You angrily punched in the access code to the door of your pod. “Yes, I know, which is exactly why as co-general you’re not supposed to be out in the field putting yourself in harm’s way.” The metal door slid open, and you walked forward, not even looking back at him. “I don’t care if you got bored playing politics, that doesn’t mean you get to go rogue and get back in the cockpit.” Slamming your hand on the button to slide the pod door closed, you finally turned to face Poe since slapping him. You let out a shaky breath as your rage subsided. Your stomach was morphing into a simmering pool of nerves and regret. 

“Look,” Poe said, “I just… getting cooped up on base listening to those talking heads was making me crazy. I miss flying and I saw the opportunity and took it.” You knew what he said was true, but it didn’t make it any easier on you. Taking a moment to compose yourself, you scanned his body for signs of injury, until you realized… he was wearing his flight suit.

Fuck. That damn flight suit always did things to you. Obviously he had to wear it for functionality’s sake, but god, it was almost like he was made to look good in them. His shoulders looked so strong and broad, and the unisex, utilitarian cut of the orange suit somehow did nothing to hide the curve of his ample, round ass, one of your favorite features of his. You felt your mouth water as you drank the sight of him in, arousal slowly kindling in your belly.

That suit was your weakness, and the cocky smile slowly dawning on his face let you know he knew, too.

“I mean,” Poe smirked,  “at least you get to see me in your favorite outfit of mine.” Walking slowly away from you to give you a clear view of his rear, he turned and sunk into the chair in your room. You followed, magnetically drawn to him while simultaneously being flustered that he caught onto your ogling. You crossed your arms and put on your best annoyed face.

“I’m sorry for slapping you, but I’m not sorry for being mad,” you said, pursing your lips and looking away. “And trying to seduce me with your stupid uniform isn’t working.”

It was, in fact, working too well. Your breathing got shallower as you tried to ignore the gentle heat filling your body from your center outwards. Poe’s smirk deepened.

“It’s a good thing you’re not a covert operative because you are the worst at lying,” he said, grabbing your thighs and coaxing you closer to him. You acquiesced, trying and failing to look irritated, the desire plain as day on your face. Poe ran his hands slowly up and down your legs from your hips to your calves. Sliding his palms back and around your ass, he squeezed and your breath hitched. You looked down and those liquid brown eyes were staring up at you, twinkling with mischief. “I know you better than that, sweet thing,” Poe teased. “You absolutely cannot pretend that me wearing this suit doesn’t make you cream your panties.”

You fought to control your traitorous body, breathing slowly through your nose as Poe lifted the hem of your shirt and planted soft kisses on your belly, right above your pants. “Fuck you, you cocky asshole,” you tried to spit viciously, but it came out sounding slightly strangled instead. This Maker-forsaken stupid man and his stupid bubble butt and this stupid suit, you thought, your fingers weaving into the curls on his head. 

Poe’s smile only turned even more predatory, like a cat playing with a mouse. “Oh, I would, baby” he whispered, nipping your torso lightly, “but I haven’t showered in days. How about this instead…”

Suddenly Poe grabbed your hips, pulling you down into his lap and forcing your knees to buckle, your legs on either side of his thick thigh. His right arm wound around your lower back, holding you in place while his left hand snaked up your neck and into your hair. He pulled you in for a slow, soft kiss, which snapped the final tether preventing you from melting for him like he knew you wanted to. You surged forward, kissing him deeply, licking into his mouth and tasting the minty aftertaste of the gum he always chews while piloting. He groans, biting your lower lip, then sliding his tongue along yours. This draws your first moans out from somewhere deep in your chest, and his eyes quickly darken when you begin grinding on his thigh.

“Oh, you like that,” Poe crooned, lips turning up into a smirk. “So fucking eager for me. So desperate to cum.”

“Fuck you, Maker-damn it,” you pant, burying your face into his neck, the smell of sweat, jet fuel, and him invading your senses. “This stupid suit is going to be the death of me.”

Poe smiles wickedly. “Why don’t you take a ride on the best pilot in the galaxy before you die, then, honey?” he purrs into your ear. You roll your eyes at his cheesy line until you feel him flex the thigh you’re straddling, creating the most delicious friction against your clothed core. You let out a breathy moan and clench your own thighs around his, starting to rock your clit against his ridge of muscle through your clothes. Slick starts dripping out of you with each roll of your hips against him. Poe moves your arms to brace on his shoulders, then slides both of his hands onto your hips to help you ride him.

The pleasure in your core starts to ratchet up, and you grind yourself harder into Poe’s thigh, throwing your head back with a moan. Poe leans to your ear, kissing and lightly licking just behind and below your earlobe, that spot he knows drives you wild. “That’s it, baby, ride it out,” he whispers into your ear. “Use all that frustration to make yourself cum on my leg.” You mewl, circling your hips and chasing your high. Your pussy contracts around nothing, and suddenly all you can think about is how much better it would feel if Poe was inside of you.

“Poe,” you whine, “I need more.” Your slick is soaking through your underwear, the smell of your arousal filling Poe’s senses. He groans, his cock painfully hard in his flight suit.

“What do you need, bebita?” he says, kissing your forehead sweetly while gripping your hips like a vice, a contrast that has you moaning wordlessly. “Tell me, and I’ll give it to you.”

“I need you,” you beg, “I need you inside of me, I need you to fuck me, please.” You can feel your clit throbbing, almost painfully. Poe moans into your neck. “Baby, I told you, you do not want me to unzip this suit,” he chuckles. “But I think I can still help. Lean back a little.” You comply, and watch with glazed eyes as Poe stares right back at you, slipping his middle and ring fingers into his mouth to get them wet. A shudder rips through your body when he slips both digits past the waistband of your pants and into your underwear. He groans loudly when he feels your slick folds.

“Fuuuuck me, baby, you’re absolutely drenched,” he breaths out. “Is this all for this dumb orange jumpsuit I’m wearing?” That cocky smirk reappears as he laughs at his own joke.

Letting out an annoyed breath, you huff, “it’s for you, idiot. You fucking drive me crazy. You’re the only one that’s ever gotten me this wet. Now fill me up before I lose my ever-loving mind.” 

Poe lets out another chuckle. “Yes, ma’am,” he quips, and then quickly slides the length of his fingers into your cunt, forcing a moan from your lungs involuntarily. He rocks you forward again so that you’re sitting directly on his fingers, with his palm cradling your pussy. “Fuck yourself on my fingers,” he commands. “Take what you need from me.”

You do exactly that, rising and falling on his thigh, swirling your hips over his soaked digits, your clit rubbing against the meat of his palm deliciously. He adds another finger, stretching you out and making you want to scream. Your hips speed up as you desperately chase your high. The wet squelching and slapping sounds of your pussy on Poe’s hand echo in the room. Poe’s panting fills your ears and your wanton moans fill his. You invade his senses in every way possible, and he can feel his dick pulse with every thrust of your hips against his thigh.

Suddenly, you start feeling the knot in your core tighten as you rocket ever-closer to your orgasm. Poe moans as he feels you clench. “Fuck, that’s it, honey, I can feel you getting close,” he whispers. “Give it to me.” His hips start lifting up, grinding, pressing his length into you as much as he can.

“Oh Maker, Poe, oh fuck,” you cry as your walls tighten. “You want me to fucking cum for you?”

“Fuuuuuuck yes baby, that’s all I want,” Poe pants. “Fucking cum all over my fingers, soak my hand, honey.”

The filth pouring out of his mouth finally snaps the knot in your stomach, and you nearly scream in ecstasy as your release shatters and blooms through your body. Poe moans your name as a rush of your slick coats his hand, and you feel him bite your shoulder as his body tenses. Sated, you slump against him, his hand still pinned under your body, both of you sticky with sweat and panting for breath. Poe uses his free hand to softly cup the side of your face, pressing kisses slowly and gently across your cheeks and nose.

You sigh as he carefully extracts his hand. Just as you peer down at him, he closes his eyes and slips his fingers into his mouth, sucking every bit of your essence off. You shudder in pleasure as you watch him. He locks eyes with you, and you lean in to kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips.

“Feeling better?” Poe asks, the warm molten brown of his eyes having returned. You sigh and giggle a little. “Yes, thank you,” you murmur quietly, “but I wish I could have made you cum too.” 

Suddenly Poe looks sheepish, something that’s a rare expression for him.

“Well, uh…” he starts, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck and averting his eyes. You pause, perplexed. He glances back at you, then down at the floor, and then back at you again. Poe clears his throat before he finally speaks.

 “I… actually did…”

You freeze silently, and then erupt into laughter. “Poe Dameron!” you screech. “The ‘best pilot in the galaxy’, commander of the Starfighter Corps, co-general of the entire fucking Resistance, fucking JIZZED in his pants like a teenager???” You start tittering uncontrollably, much to Poe’s embarrassment. “Shut the fuck up, idiot,” he grouses, which only makes you cackle even louder. He sighs, annoyed but begrudgingly satisfied.

“At least this suit needs to be washed anyway,” he mutters, mostly to himself, and you laugh so hard you start crying.

Tag list (it's here y'all!): @for-a-longlongtime @nerdieforpedro @lu62 @purelyoscar @clemdango04 @survivingandenduring @reggiesfilthylittlesecret @beezusvreeland @alltheglitterandtheroar @campingwiththecharmings @qveerthe0ry @agentjackdaniels @dizthemonster @beezusvreeland @queerponcho and anyone else who was interested!

EDIT:

Oh, you were looking for a part 2 to this one-shot? Well it’s your lucky day — Poe was being a total menace, so indeed there is now a part 2!

[survivingandenduring]

That’s a haaaaaaaaaard yes from me. Delicious

So I was talking with @for-a-longlongtime about this photo of Oscar when she said something about how he is so Poe Dameron coded here and UH OH now I’m working on my first official posted smut drabble about f!Reader thigh riding Poe to completion after a mission because his flight suit turns her on so much, and he’s an obnoxious cocky asshole about it and may or may not get slapped… Anyone interested?

[lotusbxtch]

Eeeee thank you! I’ll add you to the tag list 🥰

So I was talking with @for-a-longlongtime about this photo of Oscar when she said something about how he is so Poe Dameron coded here and UH OH now I’m working on my first official posted smut drabble about f!Reader thigh riding Poe to completion after a mission because his flight suit turns her on so much, and he’s an obnoxious cocky asshole about it and may or may not get slapped… Anyone interested?

[lotusbxtch]

Thank you my darling 🥹❤️ I hope I do it smutty, smutty justice!

So I was talking with @for-a-longlongtime about this photo of Oscar when she said something about how he is so Poe Dameron coded here and UH OH now I’m working on my first official posted smut drabble about f!Reader thigh riding Poe to completion after a mission because his flight suit turns her on so much, and he’s an obnoxious cocky asshole about it and may or may not get slapped… Anyone interested?

[lotusbxtch]

Thank you so much for the visibility! ❤️

So I was talking with @for-a-longlongtime about this photo of Oscar when she said something about how he is so Poe Dameron coded here and UH OH now I’m working on my first official posted smut drabble about f!Reader thigh riding Poe to completion after a mission because his flight suit turns her on so much, and he’s an obnoxious cocky asshole about it and may or may not get slapped… Anyone interested?