#happy poevember!

[nowritingonthewall]

Happy Poevember <3

[pygmi-cygni]

How It Should Be

there are a *thousand* versions of this fic on tumblr/ao3 but I love the trope so much that idc. fem reader, she/her pronouns and female anatomy

cw: long asf, smut, innuendo, emotional rollercoaster, discussion of sexuality/pos, mentions of abusive ex partners (minorly), riding, p in v, gentle Poe, gratuitous smut

Base had never experienced this kind of rainfall. It started early, a distant drumming of thunder and some light drops slicking the pavement. But in a few hours it was torrential, soaking through flight suits and falling in rivers down gutters and drains. The hangar almost flooded. The rain covers were useless, the wind blew them off as soon as the mechs strapped them on.

Drills were understandably canceled, and everybody enjoyed a night in.

Poe, true to form, did not listen to the recommended instructions and decided to mess around in the puddles. Him and the entire Black Squadron were drenched in seconds, hooting and hollering in the empty fields. You'd joined in for a bit, but had quickly retreated after your teeth started chattering.

Poe had come in an hour later, lips violet and jaw chattering so hard he couldn't speak. The mess crew begrudgingly allowed him to sit in front of the ovens, leaning into the warmth. HIs buddies followed and soon twenty sopping wet pilots were huddled around the coals like moths on a lamp. The smell of wet hair and sweat was enough to make your nose burn.

Once everybody recovered from hypothermia, Snap smuggled in some hot toddies. Rodian firewhiskey and expired hot chocolate was one helluva drug, apparently. It had become a raging party within minutes.

God, please let this hangover be quick, you prayed when Snap poured the first glass of...stuff.

Your head was now very warm and more than a little floaty. It was the first day off any of you had in a while. A little cold, and definitely wet, but still fun. The tension once thick had disappeared entirely. Sabacc boards had been produced, and somebody brought in a few racing speeders to hydroplane in the hangar. Sabacc had never interested you, and you'd had enough rain for the day. You watched the races from inside, smirking when somebody eventually crashed.

Rose sidled up to you, reeking of Snap's cocktail.

"Hiya," she said, looping an arm around you. Her flight suit was tied around her waist, and a distinct line of hickeys had been stamped across her neck.

Snorting, you turned back to the hangar. "Having some fun time with Snap, I see."

Rose grinned, pulling her collar down to reveal...a lot more than you expected from Snap. It was certainly a surprise.

"I assumed he'd start crying at the prospect of hand-holding," you mused, nodding reverently at the impressive display.

"Yeah, well, he just needed a little encouragement." She flipped her hair primly and leaned against the window. Another thrash of rain smacked the glass with a massive thwack and made the both of you jump.

"Hey, how's that guy you've been dragging along? Marcus, or Mason, or whatever?" She asked, turning to you. You snorted, taking another pull.

"Long gone," you said drily. "He was...subpar."

Rose gaped, eyes wide and fluttering. "What? Him? No! After everybody warned you? Craaazy," she giggled, leaning against you. Your cheeks flushed. Yeah, okay, it had been a bad idea. He wasn't a bad guy, just...well, a little boring. Did the job for a while but hey, you can only do one position for so long before it's just pathetic.

"Well, he knew what he was good at," you sighed into your cup. God, what a relief that was over.

"He never knew much, did he?" Rose barely kept a straight face, and you watched her laughing fit with an amused grin.

"Yeah, yeah, okay, Rose, laugh it up. We can't all be having sloppy makeouts with Snap in a supply closet, okay? Some of us have dreams, you know." It did nothing but make her laugh harder, nearly spilling her drink down your front.

Swearing, you propped her upright. "God dammit- Rose, Maker, how much did you drink?"

Clearly this was only concerning to you, because she sighed listlessly and finished her god-awful drink in one massive swig. Well, it looks like you'd be babysitting tonight.

Subtly you guided her towards the bunking quarters. Maybe you could convince her to turn in early.

"I mean," she drew out the vowels, stumbling as you held her elbows steady, "you kinda got a trend with that sorta thing, hon."

You narrowed your eyes and stopped. "What is that supposed to-"

"I'm just saying," she guffawed, and you clapped a hand over her mouth when a few people looked over, "you don't...you don't get laid very well," she whispered before dissolving into giggles.

"Rose, good god," you groaned, heaving her away from the crowd. "Come on, you're embarrassing yourself."

Poe raised his eyebrows over his cards when you dragged her by. You rolled your eyes and mouthed Firewhiskey. He and the rest of his group nodded understandably. Rose was not a lightweight, but unfortunately her capacity for alcohol and her appetite for alcohol did not correlate safely. Many a pilot had been saddled with Rose duty on a night out.

You almost made it to the room when a familiar voice called behind you.

"Hey, wait up!"

Poe jogged over, fistful of credits stuffed in his satchel. Guess he won the betting pool.

"Poe," Rose cheered listlessly, grinning sloppily. You sent him an apologetic glance, but he only grinned.

"Hiya, Rosie," he punched her shoulder affectionately, "heard you and Snap were gettin' hot and heavy. Ooh, look at those." Rose had again pulled down her shirt to triumphantly reveal the necklace of bruises Snap gave her. When she felt Poe had given them their due appreciation, she stumbled forwards and promptly passed out.

"Oh shit- some help, please?" You struggled to hold her dead weight. Poe took one shoulder and held your drink while you fiddled at the keypad.

It was a game of "left, right, left, right" as you wrangled her through the door, out of her flight suit and under the covers. Poe slipped a couple of bacta pills near her bedstand and a glass of water.

"You, uh," he started after a moment of standing, "you wanna grab a snack?"

"Hell yeah I do." You bumped his shoulder and fell into step beside him. The halls were empty now except for the occasional droid on late-night rounds. The drumming of rain could still be heard on the roof. It felt like a comforting backing track on your little adventure. Poe's quiet humming made your lips quirk in a smile.

"So," he grinned, sidling up a little too close to avoid suspicion, "you and Rose were spilling some news over there, huh?"

Your ears reddened. "Eavesdropping? That's not very Commander-y of you."

"Oh, c'mon. What was so funny? That game of Sabacc was trash, I needed something to pay attention to," he pleaded.

"Trash? You won the whole pot, Dameron. If you don't want it, I'll-"

"Yeah but Hix is so bad it doesn't even count," he complained. You rolled your eyes. Sometimes Poe forgot that his level of excellence was not as ho-hum as he believed. Fifty credits felt like a pretty good steal, regardless of the achievement. Ah, the standards of being the Favorite.

"Well anyway, it wasn't anything important. Just...girl stuff," you said ambiguously.

Poe didn't buy it, but he kept his mouth shut. You knew he was planning something; he'd never shut up unprovoked. Your hackles raised as you walked in silence. Better to be prepared for whatever it was he was plotting.

You blinked in surprise when he grabbed your elbow and pulled you down...his hallway?

"Poe! Hey, let go-"

"Nuh uh," he grinned triumphantly. "I'm gonna find this out one way or another."

"I want a snack first-"

"Hush."

You rolled your eyes when he dramatically opened his bunk door and pushed you inside. While he rummaged for something, you plopped onto his bunk. Frowning, you bounced a bit on his mattress.

"Does being a Commander give you nicer mattresses? Holy hell, this feels amazing," you gaped. Even the blankets were softer. No wonder he looked so damn pretty all the time, the amount of beauty sleep he was getting.

Poe had cultivated a diverse array of treats on the floor. Meiloorun candy, Naboo chocolate (not expired), rice cookies, and a bunch of pudding from mess hall.

"Ooh, where'd you get- hey!" You snatched your hand back, palm stinging from his slap. Poe's dark brows furrowed and he pulled the hoard closer to his chest.

"One secret for one treat," he sniffed, opening a cup of pudding. You watched him suck it down and move on to the next one.

"That's not- come on, just lemme have one-"

"Nope," he said around a mouthful of lemon mousse, "deal's a deal."

Scowling, you weighed your options. Rose's teasing earlier wasn't...that personal, but something about Poe knowing made you curl up with embarrassment. He had no trouble with picking somebody up. Hell, he was the best lay on base. And yeah, Rose was right, sex was something you'd never really hit gold with. So? It didn't bother you, not really, but it was a bit embarrassing.

What's wrong with telling him? What's he gonna do, slutshame you? He's had more hookups than heartbeats.

But something stopped you. A little seed of a concept struggling to crack in your mind. Something had shifted, you just weren't sure what.

Do it, come on. Just bite the Beskar and go for it.

"Fine, but it's worth at least two chocolates. And a pudding," you acquiesced. A glimmer appeared in Poe's eye and he grinned.

"Alright, shoot."

"Treat first."

He appraised you for a second but relented, tossing you a single bar of chocolate.

"I'll give you the rest after your secret," he said to your protest. Sighing, you snatched up the snack and dropped your head in your hands.

The bunk was quiet, punctuated only by chewing and the crinkle of a wrapper. That little seed had blossomed into doubt and you felt something sour in your chest. Deep breaths, don't be a pussy, come on.

"...IbrokeupiththisguyI'vebeendatigbecausehewasreallybadatsex."

Poe blinked. "What?"

A brilliant shade of red colored your cheeks and seared your neck. You lasered your gaze into the carpet, willing it to burn away and suck you into space.

"I broke up with this guy I've been dating," you mustered, "because he was really bad at sex."

A heavy pause.

"That is not worth two chocolates and a pudding, you fraud," Poe snorted, licking his spoon clean, "unless his dick is like four centimeters long and bright blue I don't know why that's such a big deal. What, did he not make you cum or something?" Another laugh and he tore into a packet of cookies.

Something ravenous and sharp ripped through your chest, flaying the skin open and leaving you dumbfounded. Hot and brutal anger bubbled up so fast it scared you, making your fingers twitch and your nose burn.

Poe caught sight of your face and immediately froze. "Hey, woah, I didn't-"

"Well, not everybody is as blessed as you," you snapped, "you have no issue finding someone to fuck or fall in love with or whatever, so the fact that I have that issue shouldn't be any of your-"

"HEY!"

His shout smacked you back against the wall, your tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth.

You'd never seen him genuinely upset. Poe got frustrated, sure, but he always had a positive outlook and an easygoing grin. It looked wrong the way his brows were twisted and his lips stuck in a frown. A little bit of shame tickled your ribs.

"I'm sorry, where the hell did that come from? I was not insulting you, if anything I was insulting that guy. I just was saying that you don't need to be so upset over a random guy who can't fuck!"

"Sex is kind of a big thing and so if it doesn't work out maybe it feels a little embarrassing, okay?" The colume was stacking, bordering on mean. You felt hurt and angry, he felt defensive and confused. A horrible, vicious cocktail of bad was stirring and souring the air.

This wasn't how you talked. You didn't yell. This was wrong. You took a deep breath, willing the tears to cease.

Why were you crying? Poe was right, it wasn't a big deal. You sat in a heap, head in your hands. The sudden rush of anger left you a little bit rattled. Something jittery and uncertain coursed through you, leaving a mound of jumbled thoughts. It was hard to think. You needed some space. You turned away, pressing your cheek to the wall. Maybe that disgusting drink had screwed you up more than you thought.

Poe had pushed away the snacks and crept over, sitting in his desk chair. You felt his gaze on your back. He was making that face, the one when one of his crewmates was flipping the fuck out and he was trying to play nurse.

God, this went south.

"it wasn't that he was bad," your voice wobbled, "he just...he was in it for him. And I was just...there."

Every time you slept together, it was cold. Dead. You needed sunshine and Marcus just wanted a quick bang. The truth made you hunch in on yourself, cowering. Poe hummed in sympathy, sliding closer.

You scowled at him over your shoulder. Something in his eyes pried a little too close to your heart in a way you couldn't describe. It left a raw, tender feeling in your chest that prompted another swell of tears.

"Stop looking at me like that," you snapped. He cocked his head, genuinely curious.

"Why...why is sex such a big thing for you?"

Oh, that tone, damn him to hell with that tone. Soft, gentle, like you were some sort of tantruming baby. Your nose burned with shame and you had to bite your thumb to keep from screaming. None of his business, this was none of his business, just fuck off please. Why had you followed him to his bunk? This was dumb, and all for a chocolate bar.

"Can I just grab my food and go, please?"

A moment before a foil wrapped chocolate and a cup of lemon pudding rolled next to you. Furiously you scrubbed your cheeks dry and sighed.

"I didn't mean to make you mad," Poe said quietly. You turned slightly. His eyes were genuine and open. Dark pools that exuded nothing but support. Way to hit home how much of an ass you were.

"It's fine," you whispered, defeated. "The sex thing...I dunno, it just feels too...intimate."

"It doesn't have to be."

You scrunched up your face, confused. "What? You're literally inside somebody, how-"

Poe laughed, the tension lifting a little bit. "Well, yeah, okay, but like...it doesn't have to be emotional. It could just be physical. One and done." He gestured vaguely, then cringed at his facial expression.

A puzzle was turning in your mind. Not...what? You'd always looked for that little spark before you invited someone over. That little rush of heat, a shared glance. Sex was supposed to be romantic, at least a little bit. That's what you'd gleaned from the girls gushing in the bathrooms over how it felt and the moment.

Something cracked and dislodged in your chest. You took a shuddering breath, feeling your heartbeat stutter. There it was, that thing again. That little confusing piece that followed you around since day one of academy. Since you'd tagged along with Poe and watched him bloom alongside you and Rose, watched your friends and family grow into people with life and love and-

Something.

You felt twisted upside down. This was all wrong, this wasn't how it was supposed to...Poe had thrown a wrench in your ideas of everything, opened a door that you didn't like the idea of.

He was still looking at you carefully, analyzing the way your face twitched and you slowly put the pieces together.

"Have you ever actually been attracted to somebody?"

There it was. Hit the nail right on the head, right where you wanted him to miss. Of course. Of course you had, but he was sitting so close but so far away.

You scoffed. "What's it to you?"

He held up his hands and sat back. "No, hang on. It just sounds like you don't..."

"Don't what?" Something distinctly icy had entered your tone. A familiar defense when acknowledging that scared little emptiness in your cardiac region. One that ached and tore with every breath.

Poe realized he needed a different tactic. Pursing his lips, he tried again. "I mean, have you ever liked somebody as in, like, romantically? Or something past the physical stuff?"

"I'm not an asshole, what kind of-"

"it doesn't make you an asshole," Poe interrupted, "sometimes it's just how stuff is. I asked because it might explain why you feel that way about intimate sex."

The combination of your exposed secret and the bluntness of his vocabulary created a strange mix of comfort and indignance. You knew he meant well, he'd never shame you for sex. He couldn't, not with his roster. But Poe's curiosity was a bit strange. Pointed, specific, determined.

He hadn't cared. He wasn't supposed to care, he was Poe. Out of reach, off limits. With every word he dug up something you'd shoved down into the pits years ago.

"Why does it matter?" You swiveled to face him, chin propped on your palm. He shrugged.

"Dunno, just...troubleshooting."

"Troubleshooting? What am I, a protocol droid?" Your tone dripped with sarcasm, but the sentiment filled you with warmth.

Poe snorted. He reached for another bottle cap and flipped it between his fingers, rolling it along his knuckles like a Erko chip. "You said you had a problem, and I'm gonna help you fix it."

Oh, Maker. You recognized that expression. When Poe had an idea, nothing in the galaxies could derail his focus. You sighed. "Please don't, I don't care."

Poe looked up, mouth agape. "What do you mean you don't care? Sex is a great experience, and I want to find a way for you to enjoy it-"

"Why?"

"Because-"

"Why you? Why do you have to, what's it matter to you?" You tossed your hands up, exasperated. He paused his fiddling, swallowing thickly.

This conversation was muddling your already groggy mind. Twenty questions had not helped the predicament, and you really wanted to go to bed. Early training tomorrow, provided the rains let up. Poe watched you stand and grab your jacket, not making a move to stop you.

"I'm heading off," you mumbled. "Thanks for....yeah."

Maybe it was the light or maybe just wishful thinking, but his eyes softened with a smile.

"Night, sweetheart. Sweet dreams."

That curious feeling followed you all the way back to bed. Your dreams were not helpful either - twirling and changing and morphing into something wholly familiar but astounding.

Poe's voice, and that familiar smell, but accompanied with a flutter you don't remember feeling. It was gentler, softer. Something was there, something that hadn't been been before. You didn't understand why here his touches felt different, but they felt...better. Righter. Not sexual, not bad, but somehow there was an unspoken agreement that this was how it should be. Together.

You woke up in a cold sweat and pit in your stomach.

The rains were stronger that afternoon. Lightening flashed in the clouds, adding to the melancholy feeling in your chest. Last night's conversation had undeniably changed the air between you and Dameron. Even Rose noticed in her hungover haze.

"Jeez, you 'n Poe really screwed something up, huh?" she slurred, an ice pack resting over her eyes. She peered inquisitively at you from under her hood and you scoffed.

"No, Rose." It couldn't be farther from the truth. The idea caused such a viscerally upsetting image in your mind that you physically jolted in your seat.

"I need some air," you muttered, palm to your chest. A raw, nervous energy had consumed you from your first waking moment. Anticipation and dread rolled up into a nerve-wracking package.

Your feet, the bastards, walked a familiar route that you recognized all too late. Poe looked up as he was leaving his bunk and paused. HIs eyes held that same soft look from last night and your stomach lurched.

"Hey," he called, reaching out to snag your elbow. You flinched and a flicker of hurt crossed his features. He'd just woken up, curls sticking every which way atop his sleep-mussed face. Attractive in a way that floored you.

You muttered a hello and kept walking, darting into the first available room.

The dance kept up all day, swooping and waltzing around each other until everybody knew something was up. The rumor mill was brutal, fantasizing everything from a fight to a secret pregnancy. Any comments whispered behind your back paled in comparison to the mounting anxiety you felt.

That thing. That thing that Poe said that broke the wall around your heart. It was fucking everything up. He hadn't even said much. But it did a lethal damage, sending everything toppling down in a domino effect.

You couldn't focus. That something, begging to be let out, beat and hammered against your ribs, making you gag. Your pace faltered and you hurried to a bathroom.

"I'm gonna be sick-" you croaked, and somebody yelped. A pair of hands hauled you off the floor and up, but the world was already spinning. Your heart had jumped out of your mouth and was sputtering on the floor, dying in a wash of crimson glory. Something had also snagged your lungs, tearing oxygen just out of reach.

What a way to go.

Poe's smell filled your nose and you hoped it wasn't another dream. That dream had stripped your faculties and left you an emotional mess. A better dream, please, I want to be at peace.

A hacking, gagging, awful sound that you realized was coming from you. Someone was pounding your back as you heaved in air, choking on your own spit.

"Umph cut it out!" you rasped, smacking away whoever was braking your spine.

Your heart wheezed a last breath when you met Poe's eyes. It was his room that smelled that way. And yes, your heart was still in your chest and your lungs were in working order. the air was a bit hard to breath now that Poe had clouded it with his pure, unadulterated concern that looked a little too close to-

Something.

"I'm sorry," he blurted, hands flexing at his side. "I...I fucked up. Last night. I'm sorry."

It felt like a collective breath was released. You swallowed, steadying yourself against the wall.

"It's okay," you said, nodding. "Me too."

A tentative silence before he crossed to sit next to you. There was that look again, so genuine and pure that it made your breath halt. You'd walked into it. A little glimmer grew into a solid shine over your heart.

Something, something, something.

"You didn't answer my question," he whispered, almost too quiet. Your tongue stopped working. You knew what he meant. That was throwing a wrench in things, that unchecked box. The blank space. The answer was clear. He knew. You knew. Rose knew, she'd seen it a galaxy away.

"Have you ever-"

"I remember," you cut him off, heart hammering. "I remember the question."

He nodded imperceptibly. The situation became abundantly apparent as you forced yourself to press on.

He'd been waiting. His soft pink insides were already bared, ready for you to take a bite. Nothing was hidden anymore. All out, for everyone to see.

But for you especially.

Your turn.

Tentatively, you leaned forward. Poe's eyes burned, and you saw the muscles flexing with his restraint. His rope was twisting tighter as you hesitated.

It snapped.

He tasted like chocolate and summer. Your lips fell open in shock, allowing his tongue to slip inside. He cradled your jaw gently, sucking and pulling you out of your shell. Each gentle lap and kiss broke off another stone, chipping slate from your soft center. Your skin tingled, feeling every emotion you'd bottled up.

The vulnerability was too much. You couldn't breathe, enraptured with the way his hands felt and he held you tighter.

"Poe," you mumbled into his mouth, and he withdrew. The empty space between you was weaponized, scratching and biting your tender skin. You needed to be closer. Together. Bound as one, breathing in and out with the same lungs and beating the same heart.

That was the something.

Something built under you as he hauled you into his arms and sank into his mattress, devouring your lips with his. This was how it was supposed to feel. Alive with a burning feeling that ate you up on the inside. Like hot desert sun that warmed your bones and dissolved your mind into mush.

His finger traced under you shirt. Your nerves screamed, twisting your torso away. A wild, nervous colt had replaced your disposition. The hill you were climbing was slippery, and what waited at the top was beginning to scare you.

"Wait," you breathed, stuttering, "I didn't-"

Poe held his hands up, breathing hard. "It's okay. It's okay. I'm not gonna move. Just...tell me when, okay?"

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. You'd never...not like this. Not with your heart on full display and your guard down and certainly not face to face.

"Marcus," you blurted, "always did it behind. To be less...open."

The admission felt liberating somehow, like a weight had been lifted. Poe nodded slowly, gears turning.

"Do you...like it that way?"

Your face said what your tongue couldn't, and he nodded again. Before his hands brushed your arms, he tapped your wrist twice.

Okay?

You tapped him back. Okay.

He drew you closer, gently adjusting your thighs around his hips. "Like this, see?" His eyes were searching, patient. Uncertainty trembled inside, but you nodded.

His lips met yours again and you moaned quietly, leaning into his embrace. your hearts thudded next to each other, feeding from the other's heat. This time, his hands slipped your shirt over your head and you didn't protest. It was a shock, at first, to be so unprotected, but his hands soothed over any rough patches and coaxed you back to safety.

This was okay.

Your sleep shorts hiking over your thighs with ease. Poe slowed, letting you adjust to the cool air. He caught your apprehension and stopped moving.

"Hey," he whispered, hands settling around your waist. You didn't move from your position against his neck, curling tighter to hide your furious blushing.

"We don't have to do this tonight." He relaxed his grip and moved away. Terrified, you grabbed his hand and put it back on your hip. Poe rubbed your back slowly.

"It's fine," you muttered, words muffled by his neck.

"You look like you're about to be executed," he teased, pulling your face back to look him in the eye. Your gaze flitted around, trying to avoid the overwhelming emotion pouring out of his face, and to sneak a glimpse of his perfectly muscular chest.

"I'm okay," you whispered. "Just nervous."

Poe nodded, scooting back a little bit. "I understand. Do you want to just sit like this for a minute? It'll be better if you relax." You nodded, leaning back against him. The sunshine pouring from his skin glowed gently, He fiddled with your hands, inspecting the ridges and bumps on your fingers. You smiled apologetically when he peered at your torn cuticles.

"Nervous habit," you explained. He lifted his right hand and to your surprise, had the most chewed-up fingernails you'd ever seen.

"Me too."

His arms tightened around your middle and you felt the soft brush of his lips across your shoulder. The gentle affection made you tremble. Something distinctly new was blooming in the warm darkness of his room. Something that felt soft and nice but more than a little terrifying.

"Why does this position bother you?" he asked quietly, sucking on your neck. You wriggled at the heady warmth of his mouth.

"Mmm...I dunno, it's just...vulnerable, I guess," you breathed, pressing closer. That familiar heat had returned, glowing under your sternum and making your fingers tingle. Poe hummed in thought, slowly turning you over so you were pressed front to front.

"Not gonna do anything, just movin' you around," he soothed your hunched shoulders. You relaxed, licking under his ear and smiling at his tiny groan.

"Is vulnerability a bad thing?" He continued kissing along your shoulders, hands safely on your back.

"N-no," your heart was picking up, "just...just different, I don't know-" you sucked in a deep breath when he nipped at your earlobe.

"That's okay. Different can be good, too."

Your skin was burning, and an unmistakable knot had started twisting under your navel. The muscles in your thighs twitched and flexed around Poe's waist. You felt him against your inner thigh, harder than steel, but he still waited patiently, mapping your skin with his lips and hands. You faltered, unsure of how to tell.

His thumb tapped your elbow twice, tap-tap. You shifted, confused. He did it again, and you peered at his hand curiously. tap-tap?

oh.

You took a slow breath and tapped his elbow twice, tap. tap.

Okay.

He rubbed the back of your hand soothingly, but didn't move further. His lips didn't stop suckling your clavicle. You hesitantly brought your hand to his hair and stroked it. He groaned quietly, encouraging you. Swallowing, you tugged the ends of his curls and blushed when he pressed closer, grip tightening on your waist.

Okay, okay. This was okay.

Poe's fingers trailed delicately over the soft skin of your stomach, pausing to tickle your ribs. You shivering, giggling, tugging his hair affectionately.

"Poe, what are you doingghuhh," his fingers pushed the air out of your chest, pressing thickly up into your core. You choked out a moan and wriggled, the spark in your chest exploding. Poe's eyes flicked to your face, questioning, but he smiled when you started to rock slightly on his hands.

"I'm following your lead," he said, adjusting the angle of his fingers. You whimpered again, folds fluttering around him. You nodded rapidly, hips rocking faster. Poe grinned cheekily, curling his thumb just so to brush your clit. The responding whine made his cock throb against your leg.

It did not take you long to hurtle over that peak. With a heavy sigh, a wave of warmth and sticky pleasure drowned out your pounding heart, sending a rocking tremor through your body. Your pussy squeezed his fingers and gushed over his lap, to Poe's delight. He caught you when you collapsed against him, moaning with satisfaction.

The aftershocks were almost as intense as the orgasm. You breathed shakily, still bucking greedily on his magic fingers.

"Good," you whined when he raised his eyebrow, "really good..." you moaned louder when he pinched your clit teasingly.

An inhumanly high whimper tore out of your throat as he picked up the pace, massaging and pressing perfectly against your walls. Your leaking arousal trickled down your thigh. Poe swiped a finger of it and sucked, eyes fluttering closed. You stared slack-jawed, unable to look away as he drank up your slick greedily.

Poe groaned, finger-fucking you faster. You shuddered and let it steamroll you again, losing all composition against his chest. Your puffy folds gripped him like a vise. He pulled his hand free and licked a long stripe up his finger, swallowing obscenely. His heavy lidded eyes met yours, brown irises glittering with lust.

You whimpered, overwhelmed with his attention.

"That's two," he winked. Before you could respond he hiked you up against his chest and spread his thighs. Still hazy from your last climax, you kissed his neck messily. Poe paused, squeezing your ass.

"Deep breath, baby."

"Wh-"

A long, punishing stroke as he pushed into you, hot and hard. Your lower body seized, a rush of stimulation short-circuiting your brain. A loud moan filled the room, and you distantly realized it was yours.

Poe was big. Really big, and stretched you past the breaking point. You choked and whined to gain back the air he'd ripped from your lungs. He smiled, rocking slowly to let you adjust. Your arms were pressed tight to your chest, head still tucked away from his view.

"Don't hide, sit back," he guided, tugging you in front of him. The new angle pulled another moan as his tip bullied against your sensitive cunt. Your chest heaved, eyes listless from the constant pleasure.

"I want to see you," he whispered, looking you dead on. it send a shard right through your chest.

"I want to."

You swallowed and he began to rock gently. The sensation made you gasp, locking onto his biceps. His grin was easy, welcoming.

"You look lovely." His praise sent another flutter to your cunt. His eyebrow raised, catching the glaze over your eyes.

Oh, now he's got it. He'd figured out the pattern. That exact combination of touches and moves to make you fall into him. Poe paused for a moment, to your confusion, then rocked forward hard. You bucked up against him, crying out as he began a steady, firm pace.

"You're doing good," he panted, nipping your cheek, "doing really well, see? Feel good, baby?"

You moaned, magma pulsing and rising in your veins. His words sluiced over you like a balm, easing the overwhelming presence of him. Nothing in you was the way it should be; your bones were jelly, your skin felt like fire and your head full of cotton.

Was this what he meant by sex? This? This heady mix of hot and wet and fast and so all-consuming it overrode your brain? Nothing Snap could come up with held a candle to the high you were riding at the moment.

At some point, Poe had flipped you onto your back. Or maybe you'd done that? Your knees were up and pushed against your breasts, his cock driving madly into your fully exposed core. The power in his hips was unbelievable. You felt the muscles bunching beneath your palms as you held on for dear life.

Poe huffed in your ear, mumbling jibbered praise and half-coherent expletives. The bunk quaked with each punch of his hips, further disorienting your fucked-out perspective.

Your nails dug into his back and you gritted out a moan as another orgasm knocked you flat. The mattress was melded to your back at this point; might as well label yourself "Rebel bunk grade" and accept it.

"Poe," you whined, arching and writhing away from the unending stimulation. He grunted and heaved you back up against his chest, spreading his thighs for balance. Your eyes flickered up to meet his; frantic, lust-blown, just a bit unfocused.

That thing, that new, flourishing something burned hot like the sun. It filled Poe's eyes when he looked at you, slack-jawed with pleasure. It rested on the tip of your tongue as you asked for more, please. It was everywhere.

A broken cry accompanied your fourth climax, shepherding you gently into a distant, heavenly pleasure that licked up your spine and filled you with a joy you'd never experienced. Pure bliss leaked out of every pore, drowning you and pulling Poe under the tide. He bucked and groaned, crushing his lips against yours.

You shuddered a sigh when you felt him release inside, a syrupy warmth filling you. Your thighs gave out, crumpling onto the sheets. Poe's chest was covered in a sheen of sweat, but he wasn't quite done yet.

"Poe, wh-what," you whined as he flipped you onto your front. Your cheeks pressed against the mattress, and you braced yourself against the frame.

"Jus' hang on," he panted, "just gimme a sec," his breathing was choppy and labored. It took you a minute to realize he was still hard inside of you, length pulsing tightly against your sponginess.

A small whimper when you felt his chest press against your back. This was familiar...but different. It felt...better. Warmer, kinder, softer. Like the two of you were fitted perfectly, wrapped in a nest of-

of?

There was that something again, whatever it was-

Well, whatever it was didn't matter because Poe's cock hammered your brain flat. He wasn't fucking hard, but deep. Slow, steady, punishing. Every ridge and vein dragged along your velvety petals, lighting every nerve and blood cell and capillary and everything on fire. His strong, stable hands cradled your hips, pulling you back until no space existed between you.

you didn't know what you expected. When his lips touched yours, you didn't know he could wreck you like this. That he could pull you apart and put you back together in a way that made you want to cry. You expected something quick, fast, clinical. Not this. This...this was a new world of torture you hadn't had the pleasure of exploring.

Your moans were muffled by the sheets. The muscles in your shoulders ached from the way he was pressed close. Any move you made, he made with you. Any time he wanted to clutch you tighter, the limper you got.

"Come on," he gritted out, "almost there, you've been doing so good, come on-" a loud groan and he rammed faster, shucking you up the bed a few inches.

The end was in sight. You were so close, but it felt...too far. You couldn't do it, you were exhausted, wrung out. Too much too fast. It felt good, to be here like this, but there was no way-

Poe craned his neck down, sucking gently on your jaw. His fingers laced with yours and there it was. There was that something you'd been looking for.

As the rest of you dissolved into ecstasy, a single thought hardened into a glowing pearl. Your drained, exhausted body felt drawn to that pearl as you floated out of your mind. A wave of pleasant calmness carried you closer, closer.

Oh. Of course. Your lips slipped into a smile as you drifted back to earth, the last little stitch in place.

A guttural cry met you back in the real world. Poe's hands were everywhere, pulling you up, pressing against your cheeks, wiping tears - were you crying? - pulling you closer. Closer, somehow, than being literally fused together. Everywhere you looked, Poe Poe Poe. His smell, voice, skin, hair.

"Poe," you breathed. He kissed your forehead, still cooing.

"Poe," you said again, urgent. His dark gaze twisted with concern, holding your jaw to inspect you for tears.

"Did I go too hard? I'm sorry, fuck, I-"

"I want to answer your question," you rushed with startling clarity. Poe was clearly surprised by your attitude, having just witnessed your ascension to heaven.

"Wh-"

Frustrated, you pulled him into a hard kiss, accidentally nipping his lip. The iron tang was sweetened by the leftover arousal on his tongue. His confusion soon faded, and you felt his lips slack with understanding. When he moved to pull away, you pulled him back, not yet ready to look at him. Your noses brushed each other, lips a breath apart.

"I-"

"Me too, idiot," he muttered, biting your cheek and laughing when you smacked his chest. Post-fucking endorphins had thrown you for a loop and his cheeky winks were sending you through the roof.

"I was-"

"I know," he said simply, interrupting you with another kiss.

"St-"

"What was that?"

A beat, then you were pulled back into his little galaxy in a whirl of kisses and smiles, content to rest as one again.

There. That was how it was supposed to be.

augh i hate this so much i don't knowwwww

@krakenkitty @ominoose @bulletgoth @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @justsomeonecalledemma

@iolaussharpe-24 @rosegnome @twwcs @heeheehoohoofictimr @steven-grants-world

@ael-xander @to-be-a-sunshine @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @silvernight-m @lonelyisamyw-0love 

@unear7hly @chaithetics

thanks for reading!!

[fceriegifs]

Oscar Isaac as Poe Dameron

The Force Awakens (2015)

[winniethewife]

Jewels made of stardust 

(Poe Dameron x OC! Rhoswen Jewelace.)

Holiday special: And why can't we just hold on?

A/N: An Extra Update for the Holidays! Takes place in the same universe but out of the story order.

Words:  889

It was Life day, and Roshwen had forgotten. She had her hands full with everything that was happening, the forming of a new form of Galactic government, All of their friends scattered to the edges of the galaxy, it had just slipped her mind. Well that’s what she was probably subconsciously telling herself. But her Husband Poe Dameron who was watching as she busied herself with a hundred things on a day when nothing would be open, and no one would be replying to her messages, He knew exactly why she had forgotten. Her family was gone. It was just the two of them. He knew “forgetting” about life day was just a way to cope with the absence of her parents, uncle and brother, maybe if she had friends and found family around her she would be more likely to have remembered but with everyone busy these days, she had no reason to remember, no reason to feel the joy of the holiday. Except for him. He walks over to her from behind and slides his hands around her waist.

“Hey.” He murmurs into her neck as she stood at the window of their home on Yavin 4. “what are you thinking about?”

“Hm…Oh nothing really. Just…I feel like something is missing here. I’m forgetting something.” She says softly as her emerald eyes scan the horizon. She leans into his embrace.

“Are you? I can’t think of anything” Poe says, No point in antagonizing her with the forgotten holiday.

“I guess not.” She chuckles and rests her head back on his chest. “Do you ever wonder, when will the good times run out? When will the Galaxy find itself at odds again?”

“Do they have to end? I was just starting to get used to a little peace and quiet around here.” He runs his fingers through her long hair as he holds her close.

“You know how it is Poe, its only a matter of time before something happens, another group of dissatisfied Imperial or first order remnants show up to ruin everyones day.” Roshwen sighs. “but you know this time…this time we wouldn’t be holding up someone elses legacy, we’d be defending our own.” She doesn’t even have to say the other part, the part where there are no Rebel hero’s from the time before to show them the way. It would just be them, and everything they had learned the time before. Poe rests his head on her shoulder and lets out a sigh of his own.

“Why don’t we just, hold on, to this, to now? Let’s not worry about that, just keep the good of today to last throughout the rest of our lives.” He suggests, ever the optimist. Roshwen smiles and reaches her hand up to caress his face.

“I like the Idea of that. Just…” her voice trails off as she closes her eyes. Her stomach does a flip and she feels nauseous, leaning back on Poe to keep balance. “Woah. Not that again.”

“You alright Red?” He asked holding her closer. “You coming down with something?”

“Maybe…I don’t know I’ve just been feeling kinda off lately, probably just stress. I missed a cycle too.”

“You what?” Poe felt his heart skip a beat as she said that. Roshwen had been so busy she hadn’t even taken a second to realize the implications.

“I…I missed my Cycle.” She says more slowly this time, turning to look at him.

“Maker…Ro…Do you think?” He holds her shoulders as his dark doe eyes meet hers.

“I…I have no idea! I can’t…I haven’t…Oh…Poe…” Rhoswen felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. This…this was something else.

“Maker…I…this would make a difference. A baby, Roshwen!” Poe laughs and lifts her, spinning around before kissing her softly, gently placing her back on her feet as he kisses her. She pulls away after a moment.

“Wait…we don’t know for sure…we should…” she couldn’t even finish her sentence before he’s kissing her again.

Poe mangaged to get a pregnancy test despite the holiday by finding the local general store owner who he had known as a child, and begging him to keep it a secret. Rhoswen took a second to breathe before using the small device to prick her finger, then they both watched as the small device measured the HGC in her blood. It only took a moment for the test to flash a green light. Positive… they both look at each other.

“It’s…” Poe could barely speak

“Yes…My love…it is.” She smiles at him. He pulls her into a tight embrace.

“This has to be the best Life day in all my life!” Poe says softly

“Wait! Its life day? And you didn’t even tell me??” Roshwen Laughs taking a step away from him to look at him with a smirk on her face.

“Uh…It slipped my mind?” He tried to come up with an excuse on the spot.

“Uh-huh. Right.” She rolls her eyes and Shakes her head at him as he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. She stands on tip toe to kiss his cheek. “Happy life day Poe.”

“Happy Life Day Red.” He says before pulling her in for another kiss, his hand gently grazing her abdomen.

A time to be joyful when all is calm and all is bright.

~

Masterlist

@femmeanonymelives

[campingwiththecharmings]

Was gonna write driver!Jake for wanksgiving but instead wrote desperate!Poe alajsksls lmao

[ivystoryweaver]

Cosmic - Poe Dameron

Episode 1: A Space Odyssey

Cosmic Masterlist | Poe Dameron Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Happy Poevember!

Pairing: Poe Dameron x gn!reader

Summary: In 1981, in rural America, Poe crash lands to earth and you have to show him everything (set in America but reader is not necessarily American)

Content: some minor injuries and blood, not beta'd

Word Count: 2.4k

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

A deafening crash obliterated peaceful sleep on a silent, country night. You sat up in bed, abruptly, rubbing sleep from your eyes. Heart pounding and ears alert, you listened, hoping to convince yourself it was nothing - a dream, or maybe even a distant car crash.

Willing yourself to climb out of bed, you crept to the window, trying desperately to calm your breathing before drawing back the curtains.

That's when you saw it. A fire - distant, but definitely on your property. Maybe someone did crash. Or...was there some sort of electrical or gas explosion? As far as you could tell, the fire wasn't near your barn, or any of your sheds or buildings.

Scrubbing a hand over your face, you decided you better go check it out. Pulling your nightgown over your head, you grabbed the nearest pair of sweats - a crewneck gray top with matching bottoms. Taking the stairs two at a time, you headed for the back door, slipping into your boots and lifting your coat off the hook. Twisting the lock, you yanked open the door, but paused. You turned back and rummaged around in the drawer for a flashlight.

It flickered once before powering on, bright enough to lead you to the laundry room where you found a more useful spotlight flashlight and a fire extinguisher. Pushing open the screen door, you tried to estimate how far the fire was. This prompted you to grab your truck keys and drive.

The familiar creak of the your father's old truck door reminded you that this thing was probably on its last leg. You put the key in the ignition, impatiently bouncing on the bench seat.

"Come on, girl, not tonight. Come on."

After a few more sputters, the old thing cranked, a puff of smoke its only protest. With your high beams illuminating the path, you made your way to the mysterious flames.

In the few minutes it took you to drive across your property, bouncing over the uneven ground in the old truck, you started to realize how big the fire was...and that you probably should've called the fire department before you charged at it with a mere fire extinguisher.

Twisted hunks of metal had ravaged your farmland. Something huge had crashed here. An airplane or jet of some sort. Maybe experimental aircraft. Or a UFO. The musical motif from 2001: A Space Odyssey drifted through your mind. The government was sure to be here soon, probably setting up camp on your property and kicking you out of your own home on grounds of national security.

You were at a complete loss, heart racing as the smoke began to burn your lungs. Pulling your shirt collar up over your nose as a makeshift mask, you began to walk the perimeter of the crash, deciding to take a look before calling the authorities.

Rounding the corner of what appeared to be a black and orange metal wing, you heard a groan.

"Oh my god," you gasped, easing closer, braving the heat and the smoke to see what you assumed was the pilot. Something welled up inside you - adrenaline, probably, but your legs carried you forward to a man, half strapped into his seat, bloodied and unconscious.

"Oh god. Hold on. Hold on, I'm gonna get you out."

Racing back to your truck, you climbed into the truck bed, looking for a tool - anything to help you. Thankfully, you found a pair of work gloves, a wrench and a pair of pliers in the back, and a utility knife normally kept in the glove box.

You scrambled back to the man, praying to anything listening that he was not dead. After using the fire extinguisher to put out the fire immediately surrounding him, you used the knife. You cut him free of the straps holding him to the aircraft seat, grateful for gloves around such hot metal. Thankfully he wasn't a big person - not overly tall or heavy, so you were able to drag him all the way back to your truck.

It took all your strength and then some to get him all the way into the truck. You quickly examined him for obvious injuries, hoping he wasn't bleeding out or hadn't broken his back. He seemed generally okay, aside from some scrapes and cuts and minor burns.

Gingerly, you buckled him into the seat and slowly removed his helmet. He was bleeding from his temple, but the cut didn't seem deep. Blood and dirt covered his cheeks and was matted into his thick, dark curls.

"Gotta get you to a hospital." Cranking the truck, you glanced over at his orange flight suit, wondering who he could possibly work for.

You drove to the end of your property, wondering if you should drive the closest medical center, which was ten miles away, and closed, or if you should drive a hour to the closest city hospital. Either option was a gamble with your somewhat unreliable truck. What if you got stuck?

You decided against it, heading back to your house to call the fire department. They could take this man wherever he needed to go in an ambulance.

You pulled up to the house and switched off the engine, exhaling heavily before unbuckling both yourself and the pilot. You walked around the truck, opened the passenger door and jumped back with a scream as his head lolled over and his eyes blinked open.

"Where am I?" He croaked out. "Which system?"

"Hey, it's okay," you tried to soothe both him and yourself simultaneously. "You're at my farm. I think your jet crashed. I'm going to call for some help."

He tried to climb out of the truck, but flopped back into the seat with a groan. "The f...the First Order. Is the First Order here?"

You shook your head. "I-I don't know what you mean. I think you need a hospital."

Slinging one leg out the door, he gripped the truck door with his gloved hand, hauling himself to his feet.

"Careful," you instructed, reaching out to help steady him.

Deep brown eyes locked onto yours. "Thank you."

"Of course. Come on, let's get you inside."

He nodded, arm resting heavily around your shoulders. "Kriffing hell," he choked, limping with difficulty.

"Hey, I've got you. Just lean on me."

The two of you made it through the back door, into the kitchen, where you helped the pilot ease down onto a chair.

"You okay?" You asked, trying to steady him. "Is your leg broken?"

"I-I don't know. I don't think so." He leaned forward, resting his head in his hands.

"Hold on. Let me get you some water. I need to call for help."

"Wait!" He protested, stopping you with a strong grip on your arm. "Wait, who are you calling? The First Order can't know."

You shook your head. "I don't know what that is. I was just going to call an ambulance to help you and the fire department to take care of your jet out there."

"I'm fine," he waved you off, attempting to push himself up on the chair. "Believe me, I've been in tougher scrapes than this. I just need to get back to my ship, to my transceiver. Where's your satellite?"

"My satellite? I don't have a satellite," you explained. "I have a telephone. And a couple of CB radios. That's it. No satellite."

"Damn it," he huffed, seeming to grow more agitated by the moment. Yanking off his gloves, he pushed his hands through his hair, wincing as he grazed the cut on his temple.

"Let me get you some help," you insisted, opening the cupboard to get a glass, which you filled with water from the tap. "Drink this."

His eyes met yours and he nodded once, downing the glass in one gulp. You took it from him and refilled it, collecting the first aid kit from under the kitchen sink. "Here," you said, handing the glass back to him. "Drink some more. Let me look at your head. Then I'm calling an ambulance."

Without answering, he slowly accepted the glass of water, waiting patiently while you dabbed the cut on his temple, hissing as you cleansed it.

"You need to hold this gauze here for a minute. I don't think a bandage will stick in your hair," you explained. "I don't think you need stitches, but I would rather a doctor look at you."

Reaching for your arm, he stopped you, his calloused fingers circling your wrist. "Please don't call anyone. You're very kind but...please. Not until I'm sure."

With trembling breath, you swallowed down a growing sense of dread. Was this man some sort of spy? Maybe he was Russian? "Not until you're sure of what?"

"Of where I am," he emphatically explained. "And who's in control of this system. Noticing you shudder, he released your wrists. "Please, can we take your...speeder back to my ship? I won't bother you anymore."

Slowly nodding, you stood, flabbergasted as he used the table to help him climb out of his chair, standing with difficulty.

"Here, I'll help you," you found yourself offering, despite your concern about who this man could be.

Soon enough, you drove him back out to the crash site, wondering if you would somehow get into trouble with the government if this man communicated with an enemy of the state. But, not sure of what else to do, you watched as he climbed out of your truck, limped around the perimeter of the crash and did something with the ship that made the fire go out pretty quickly.

You weren't even sure if he wanted you to stay and wait for him.

After a few minutes, however, he made his way back to the truck.

"Comms are busted. My droid is a pile of wires. Glad it wasn't BB." Shaking his head, he sighed in frustration. "This whole thing is too hot to look at tonight. Do you think anyone will come looking?" He glanced over at you.

"Uhm, the nearest neighbor is five miles. Maybe no one saw," you told him. "They might see the smoke in the morning."

He nodded curtly, running a gloved hand over his face. "Would it be okay if I waited here for a little while? Maybe let my ship cool off and..." With a groan of pain, he turned to peer through the window behind him. "Do you think we could use your speeder to haul away some of the wreckage?"

You stared at him for almost a full minute. "Who are you?"

With a sardonic, exhausted half-chuckle, he shook his head. "Sorry. I...I can't tell you until I know where I am."

Chewing on your lip, you tried to decide what to do. "I'll tell you where we are. But you have to tell me where you're from too. Deal?"

He nodded, so you unbuckled your seatbelt and shifted to face him, one leg drawn up to your chest.

"We're in Iowa. But you must have known that. You must have been flying over us, maybe to the closest base, when you crashed."

"Iowa," he slowly repeated. "What system are we in?"

"You keep saying 'system' - I don't know what that means," you insistently explained. "We're in Iowa. In the United States. Are you not from here?"

"Uh, no," he quickly answered. "I have no idea where we are. Who's in charge of your United States? Are you occupied by the First Order?"

"I don't know what that is! We're the United States. Do you seriously not know the United States of America? Maybe the most powerful nation in the world? Or one of them, anyway. There's no one occupying this country. I've never even heard of something called a First Order."

"Good. That's good." Removing his gloves again, the man stroked his chin. It seemed to be a habit of his. "You said 'this world'. What planet is this?"

Without meaning to, you looked at him like he was crazy. "You must have a concussion. I definitely should've called an ambulance."

"Just - please, answer me. Please." His eyes found yours, dark eyebrows shifting pleadingly. True, deep concern radiated from his gaze as a shimmer brimmed along his lower lashes. "Please tell me. I don't understand. I don't know where I am."

"Okay, okay," you quickly reassured him. "I'll answer anything you ask. And...remember, you're going to tell me where you're from too. And a name."

He nodded quickly, scooting a little closer as if he were hanging on to your every word.

This poor man. He seemed really out of it. "We're on Earth. This is planet Earth. In North America. United States. In Iowa. On my farm. That's it, that's where we are. And you can call me Trix." You shrugged one shoulder. Not your real name, but your dad called you Trix when you were really young.

"Trix," he slowly repeated. "Trix...from Earth." He sighed, worriedly. "Earth. I've never heard of it. And you don't know the system?"

You shrugged. "I mean...Earth is in the solar system? In the Milky Way galaxy? Is that what you mean?"

"Milky Way," he gasped, staring at you in disbelief. "The Milky Way galaxy? Oh my...I've...I've never left our galaxy. I've never..."

His breathing grew shallow as his head hit the headrest with a thud.

"Oh, god, I think you're having anxiety or...just breathe." Reaching across him, you rolled down the truck window to give him fresh air, which didn't help much, because the air smelled like smoke. It seemed to help, however as he slowly began to calm down.

"Are you okay?" You finally asked after several tense moments.

"I think so. I must've. I think..." He trailed off, something in his eyes so forlorn.

You had to ask. "Are you...a spy? Are you Russian?"

Turning to face you, he frowned in confusion. "What's Russian?"

Okay. So either this man was completely mental, or...no. It couldn't be. You had watched too many science fiction films. He must have amnesia or something.

"Where are you from? You promised," you reminded him.

He swallowed hard, sitting up a bit straighter. Then he looked right into your eyes, again. There was something so honest and slightly unnerving when he did that.

"My name is Poe," he finally declared. "I'm from Yavin 4. It's in the Yavin System, in the Gordian Reach sector, in the Outer Rim Territories." Glancing down at his lap, he exhaled shakily. "It's definitely not in the Milky Way Galaxy."

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Follow @ivystoryupdates and turn on notifications to never miss an update

Cosmic Masterlist | Poe Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Join my tag list

[faretheeoscar]

HAPPY POEVEMBER!

It's finally here!

[eyelessfaces]

deep crust

firefighter!poe dameron x reader

happy poevember<3 here's this little alternate universe oneshot as a treat! it takes place not too long after the events of ashes to ashes, but you can read this even if you haven't read it (though it's probably more enjoyable if you have the whole context!)

summary: poe is utterly horrified to hear you've never tried a chicago pizza.

warnings: none<3

tags: poe being a drama queen, poe being absolutely whipped, fluff, kissing, just sweet stuff and moments tbh

word count: 1.2k

I gotta admit, my non american ass had heard of chicago style pizza but had never seen what it looked like before writing this so I realized it lowkey looks unappetizing (I'm so sorry chicago people)

heat me up masterlist

masterlist | taglist | ao3

updates blog: @eyelessupdates

The topic comes around the first time you officially invite Poe to have dinner at your new apartment. He's properly appalled, his jaw dropping in shock as he lets go of his fork.

“You’ve never had a deep dish?”

You smirk, knowing it would draw this reaction from him – or from anyone you know here, as a matter of fact. You know from experience, and it being so amusing each time kinda participates in the fact you’re refraining yourself from trying those famous Chicago style pizzas.

You give him a shrug of your shoulder, indifferently keeping on chewing on your salad. 

“That’s fine. I’m doing fine living this way” you chuckle. 

“Oh but you’re missing out.” he shakes his head, his hand closing around his glass of wine. “You don’t know it but you’ll realize and you will hate yourself for not trying them sooner.”

He sips on his wine and you scoff, looking at him, at his handsome face bathed in the warm glow of your apartment light. “You’re so dramatic.”

He points a finger at you, a stern expression over his face. “This is a proportionate reaction.”

You huff out from your nose.

He shakes his head in feign disappointment. “I can’t believe I kissed someone’s mouth who’s never had Chicago pizza” he mutters under his breath, a laugh escaping him when you playfully swat him with the back of your hand. 

From there, Poe takes it as his personal mission to get you to try a Chicago pizza.

At first, it’s just a running joke. Every time he sees you, he manages to smoothly slip it into the conversation. 

“I still can’t believe you’ve never had a deep dish,” he’ll sigh, shaking his head in fake dismay as you roll your eyes. Or he will go off on mini monologues, exaggerating the “wonders of Chicago’s pizza crust” – as he calls it, then proceeding to babble out an elaborate description of the layers of cheese and sauce with a genuineness that borders on comical. 

And each time, you brush him off with a laugh, stubbornly sticking to your claim that you’ll get around to it eventually.

But Poe is nothing if not persistent. And the principle of making you try a Chicago pizza is also what would be considered a date with you.

One evening, you receive a text from him, a link revealing “the top ten pizzerias” in Chicago, even though he knows which one is his personal favorite. 

“It’s so you have multiple options to choose from. Whichever seems the most appealing to you” he attaches to the link.

You receive another text not long after. “I’m willing to drop my favorite place but I know the owner and he would be pissed if he learned that the man that put out his kitchen fire went to another pizzeria.”

You can’t help but laugh and text him you will think about it, but he still doesn’t let up, because he has not won until he's leading you arm in arm to a pizzeria. 

Finally, the very next morning, you receive another text from him while he’s on shift at the firehouse. “Even my crew thinks it’s crazy you haven’t had a real Chicago pizza. Don’t let us down here.”

You smile, shaking your head as you type back, “You’re relentless, Lieutenant”

Seconds later, his reply comes. “This is important. History is watching”

Characteristically dramatic. Then, a picture pops up. His face, mouth twisted into a small pout, and a something in his pleading eyes that makes you think he knows exactly what he’s doing because you’re quick to text back,

“Fine. Pick me up on Friday”

—

“I’m gonna show you the best in town” he assures you on Friday, his face lit up with excitement and a hand at your back as you get close to his pizzeria of choice. 

You raise an eyebrow at him. “You know, I have high expectations now” 

“Yeah, maybe I’m overselling it,” he laughs. “But trust me” he grins, pushing the door to the place open. 

Comes the time you’re served and you take your first sample of your awaited first Chicago deep dish experience. Poe has pushed his own plate aside, waiting for the conclusion, the denouement of that whole affair.

“So?” he asks after a while, forearms leaned against the table as he intently awaits your reaction. His teeth sink into his lip, gaze thoroughly focused on every micro expression of your face as you take your time chewing on your first bite.

You lightly clear your throat once you’re done, taking the time to wipe your mouth with a napkin. 

Poe impatiently shifts his position onto his seat, and you take a deep breath for the dramatic effect and impending suspense.

“Don’t get mad,” you start, pinching your lips. He stammers, his expression turning into a remorseful one at the idea you think he would truly be disappointed for you not liking it, his hand reaching for yours over the table. “–I should have listened to you. You weren’t lying” you smirk as you continue, witnessing his face clear up almost instantly, a startled laugh escaping his mouth. 

“You had me in the first half” he admits with a grin, leaning back in his seat. “See? I would never lie to you.”

You glance up at him when you savor your next bite, but he’s not eating – he’s just watching you. There's a soft look of satisfaction and an underlying sweetness in his gaze, and the expression is so open and so unmistakably Poe it makes your stomach flip. 

“You can breathe now,” you tease, lightly nudging his foot under the table. “Come on, eat before it’s cold” 

—

You keep on teasing him when you exit the restaurant, telling him that maybe his reaction was a bit too excessive and dramatic for something that is “just pizza.” Only he’s quick to exaggeratedly counter, telling you that ��it’s not just pizza, it’s a life experience”

It’s cold outside as you walk side by side down the street, in a comfortable silence between the both of you. 

Your hands lightly brush and Poe's smoothly slides into yours, taking a glance over at you to make sure it is fine, and without even looking over at him, you squeeze his hand in silent assurance, firmly looking ahead of you as the feeling of his touch makes something flutter inside your chest. 

His hand is warm and his grip is steady against your fingers numb from the cold, and it feels undoubtedly right to be holding his hand.

When you finally reach your building, he pauses, still holding your hand as he faces you, a soft smirk tugging at his lips. 

“Can I kiss you again now that you’ve tried Chicago pizza?”

You laugh wholeheartedly, spontaneously nodding, a wide smile over your face as you lean into him. His lips are soft as they press against yours, his grip on your laced fingers tightening when you rest your other hand at the side of his face. 

“Goodnight,” he says quietly, the feel of him lingering as he pulls back with a soft smile.

“Goodnight, Poe.”

You feel hollow saying this, already missing his presence.

You only let him go after kissing him again.

—

any and every feedback/reblog/comment is greatly appreciated and keeps authors going!!

poe dameron taglist:

@lockleysgrl @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @anightshift

@whatthefishh @dameronshandholder @campingwiththecharmings @mintgreen24 @spider-starry 

@jakecockley @cocodiem @spxctorsslxt @friedwings @luxisluxurious 

@stvnnie @dowbastan @il0vebeingdelulu @hammerhead96 @unear7hly 

@pigeonmama @c-losur3

[nowritingonthewall]

Poe and his droid son - Happy 4th of Poevember 🥰

[pygmi-cygni]

Pygmi's poevember!

Haaaaa I'm doing another series! We'll see how it goes xox

Week One Nov 1-7 (falling in love fics)

Lucky Number Seven Pt 2- Nov 4

How It Should Be - Nov 1

2, 4, 6, 8 - Nov 7

Week Two Nov 8-15 (angst fics)

Almost - Nov 10

To Be - Nov 13

If Anything - Nov 13

Week Three Nov 16-23 (AU week)

Week Four Nov 24-30 (? Suggestions welcome!)

[ierofrnkk]

I Love You, Go Back To Sleep

Poe Dameron x reader (~4.3k)

Summary: you and Poe wake up early, and have a very important conversation.

Content: all ages BUT there’s one section where Poe grabs your ass but like. That’s it so. :). gn!reader, love confessions, Poe being a mess, sickeningly sweet love bombs

a/n: Happy Poevember! This took far too long to get finished, but I hope you enjoy! I love this boy so dearly; I hope I did him justice!

—

You spend more time in Poe’s bed than he does, that’s just a fact.

It’s not that he minds it all too much—most of the time he’s away, off flying somewhere you can only dream of, leaving his bed back on base painfully empty.

That’s where you come in.

—

His room is much closer to where you carry out your duties anyway, working maintenance on all the ships and speeders not currently being used, so it just makes sense for you to stay there when it’s not occupied.

It’s even better when he comes home, though, because even then, he doesn’t kick you out.

If he comes into his room and you’re still there, he won’t complain. If you try to leave so that he can have some well-deserved rest after a mission, he’ll protest and wrap his arms around you, pulling you back into his bed without another word.

It’s how you’ve ended up here this morning.

—

D’Qar’s climate definitely offers no favors to sharing a bed with someone, and combined with Poe’s body heat, it’s a lot warmer than you’d like. The sheets are cool on your skin, though, and the comfort of his arm slung around you makes up for it all.

On days like today, when there’s no mission to complete, no work to be done, the two of you make the most of it where you can.

The warm glow of the early sun casts a beautiful light into the room, highlighting Poe’s features so prettily that it’s almost unfair—his long, dark lashes, the shape of his nose, those soft, full lips.

You’re convinced you could look at him for the rest of eternity, and never become tired of the sight.

Not long after you’ve begun memorizing every detail of his face, he stirs beside you, arms wrapping tighter around you to pull you in closer to him. After a certain point, you’d swear that it’s almost instinctual, the way he clings to you.

When he shifts slightly, you move to bring a hand up, fingers brushing delicately through his dark curls as he comes out of his deep sleep.

“Mm,” He hums, squinting as the sunlight gets in his eyes.

“Time’s it?”

You chuckle softly at his half-asleep words, finding so much joy in the way he looks when he first wakes up—he isn’t put together, isn’t the cocky hotshot that you’re familiar with. He’s just warm, and soft, and him.

At the question, you shrug slightly, turning in his arms to face him a little bit better.

“It’s early,” you tell him. “Sun’s barely risen.”

He hums again in acknowledgement, starting to wake up a bit more fully now, and you drink in every minute of it.

It’s moments like these that serve to further solidify the fact that you love him.

He knows as well as you do that there’s nothing on the agenda for the day—no plans, no missions, nothing—so, he’s definitely going to take advantage of it.

“You watching me sleep, sweetheart?” He teases, turning as well, moving to lay on his side to face you better; the sleepiness is still written heavily on his face.

You nod, as if it were a fact carved into stone, not even bothering to hide the grin on your face.

“Can’t help it, you’re beautiful when you’re asleep.”

He laughs at that, the sound absolutely radiant in your ears, bringing a hand up to wipe across his face as he tries to stifle his grin.

When he’s finished laughing, he just looks at you for a moment, his gaze toeing the fine line between gentle and intense. He looks like he’s studying you, like he’s cataloging every inch of you to memory.

You hold his gaze for a moment, before your hand finds his somewhere between the two of you, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“You’re uncharacteristically quiet, Poe,” you tell him, the slightest hint of a tease edging into your tone.

He scoffs at that, though the nod he gives tells you more than his words probably are letting on.

“Forgive me for not being totally on my game; it’s early,” he teases right back, settling more into himself with every passing moment.

You wave a dismissive hand at that, letting the room fall silent between the two of you once again. Not that you two ever feel a need to fill a heavy silence with conversation—you’re both content enough with each other’s company to go without chatting.

His hand gives yours another gentle squeeze, before he lets go, moving to brush his fingers through your hair, before his hand trails down to rest on the side of your neck. His palm is warm, and his thumb brushes the side of your jaw with a gentle reverence that you’ve grown familiar with.

It doesn’t take long for his fingers to curl around the back of your neck, pulling you forward and into a soft, languid kiss.

Even without using his words, Poe is incredibly skilled at communicating what he wants, and that’s something you’ve come to understand quite clearly.

After a few beats, you pull back—not too far, but just enough to allow yourself some room to speak.

“Thought you wanted to sleep in today, Dameron?”

He snorts at that and leans in for another kiss, trying to dodge the question, but you pull back enough so that he has to answer you.

“We can go back to sleep later, promise,” he mutters to you, pulling you back in for another kiss, and you really can’t protest. Not when he says it in that voice.

This is probably your favorite Poe—sleepy and soft around the edges, more affectionate than he knows what to do with. He’d never admit it, but he loves this just as much as you do.

You pull away from the kiss after a few moments, turning your head to press a few soft kisses to his neck, just beneath his jaw. He sighs in response, tilting his chin back slightly to allow you better access.

At the movement, you press a few more kisses to his throat, taking your time with him.

He lets out a soft noise as your lips come in contact with the sensitive skin of his throat, the sound just barely noticeable, but still very much present. Before you, he never thought of himself as the type to take things slow, to be gentle and intimate—you’ve brought that out of him, and he couldn’t be more grateful.

His hands wander again, moving until they find the hem of your shirt, slipping beneath the fabric—he doesn’t seem to be wanting to start anything just yet, but he’s seeking out the warmth of your skin.

You make a soft noise of your own when his hands find your skin beneath your shirt, having missed the feeling of him on you like this. You could be seriously content with just him touching you like this, like you’re the only person in the entire galaxy for him.

He seems happy with this, too, but you can tell that he wants more. He’s very easy to read, like that.

You dip your head a little bit farther down, pressing those kisses a bit lower on his throat; you’re not quite pushing this into more intense territory, but more so just showing him more of that gentle affection.

He hums softly at that, the sound clear against the otherwise silent air of the room. As if on instinct, his hands on your waist beneath your shirt grip you a little tighter, his desperation more evident for you than he probably means to show.

His grip is never too tight, thankfully, but it’s definitely enough for you to notice that it’s there.

It doesn’t last long, though, because before you can even register it, his hands have traveled further, trailing down to the curve of your ass, kneading the skin as he attempts to pull you closer to him.

It’s nothing new to you, this desperate, nearly possessive side to him; the way he clings to you like you’ll vanish into thin air if he lets go. The sudden feeling causes you to falter slightly in your rhythm of pressing kisses to his throat.

You take this moment to breathe, brush your nose against the skin of his neck as you decide how far you want to take this.

“Easy, flyboy.”

You warn him gently, though there’s some true firmness to your tone.

He has a tendency to rush things, to want to always bring things to the fiery passion, the intensity that you’re familiar with. You love that as much as he does, but now isn't the time for that.

His touch on you doesn’t falter at the warning, though he definitely pauses to think for a minute, letting his hands wander back up to your waist and your sides.

There’s a stubbornness in Poe, a deep-seated need to follow through on his path, but he listens to you. He always does.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, “can’t help it.”

His eyes flutter closed, and he shifts forward to nuzzle against you.

“Wanna touch you. All of you.”

You have to commend his honesty; no matter what, he’s always honest with you.

You press a gentle kiss to the corner of his jaw, a show of affection for his apology, and a soothing gesture in an effort to soothe the way his heart jackrabbits in his chest.

He wants to bring this to that same heat that the two of you usually fall into, to make you fall apart from his touch the way he has so many times before, but you’re purposefully taking it slow.

You want him to go slow.

“I know,” you murmur into his skin, nuzzling against his jaw.

“This is okay for now.”

There’s something in the softness of your tone, the way that you show that slight bit of vulnerability to him, it makes him stop for a second. The slight vulnerability in your tone is palpable, and he picks up on that immediately. It’s not an outright dismissal, but he understands.

His hands settle on your waist, no longer gripping you tightly or skimming across your body endlessly. He’s slowed down.

He’s not used to you asking for this, for him to be so soft with you—but, he’s far from complaining. His thumbs rub across your hips gently, a gentle but affectionate touch.

“Okay,” he murmurs, his tone echoing yours.

“Okay.”

You feel as if you can breathe a little bit easier when he agrees to your soft request, grateful that he’s going along with this.

It’s not that you don’t like when he’s a bit more passionate—you do, stars, you do—but it’s nice to be softer every once in a while. Gentler.

He seems to agree with the sentiment; he gets it. He always does.

It’s why you love him so much.

“Thank you.”

You shift in your position slightly, moving a bit closer to him so that you can brush your nose against his, before pressing your lips to his own in a gentle kiss.

He takes to this new, slower pace easily, letting out a soft breath when you kiss him this time around.

There’s a new sort of warmth that surfaces between the two of you, something not quite unfamiliar, but definitely not something the two of you know all too well.

It’s intimacy, plain and simple. It settles over the two of you like a warm blanket.

One of his hands moves up to cradle your jaw, holding you close to him as you kiss, and for the first time since you’ve known Poe, he seems hesitant. Like he’s genuinely trying so hard to not mess this up.

The kiss is slow, and soft, and like nothing that the two of you have shared before. You decide right then that you like it.

It feels good. Arguably better than it does during the more passionate bouts with him.

Your hand mirrors his, coming up to rest on the side of his neck, your thumb brushing across his jaw, soothing him and giving him another gentle show of affection.

As you continue to kiss him, your other hand finds its way onto his hip, your fingertips skimming beneath the hem of his shirt, seeking out the warmth of his skin just as he did you a few minutes ago.

“Missed you lately,” you murmur, just barely pulling back enough from the kiss to get the words out.

The kiss slows as you speak, and he takes it in stride, responding with a tone that easily matches your own.

“Missed you, too.”

And it’s the truth. He really had been missing you lately, maybe more than he’d ever like to admit. The General had been sending him on more and more missions, and he’s been worn pretty thin.

Which is exactly why today’s day off was so absolutely vital to him.

He’d probably never tell you, but he’s been counting down the seconds to this day, waiting so eagerly to have you in his arms again; he’s missed the feeling of your skin, the sound of your voice.

You’re much less afraid to admit this to him—the feeling of longing that settles into your chest whenever he’s gone, the way that you miss him so deeply. You miss the feeling of his hands on you, the scent of him on your clothes.

It feels like every one of his missions takes longer than the last, being sent to neighboring systems and beyond.

Your hand slides from his neck into his hair, your fingers brushing his unruly, dark curls as you hold him close to you. You figure that the two of you have gotten this far already, so you might as well continue this conversation that’s been started.

“Was watching the skies every day, waiting for you to come home,” you tell him, the words murmured against his lips.

You can hear the way his breath catches in his chest at your words, that gentle sincerity with which you say them.

He knows that you miss him when he leaves—stars, he’d be a fool to not know that—but it doesn’t make hearing you say it aloud to him any less effective.

He almost says it—I love you—it’s right there, right on the tip of his tongue, the words clawing desperately at his throat and trying hard to get out. He swallows them down, keeping the words behind his teeth and under his tongue for now.

At your words, he sighs, leaning forward to nuzzle against the side of your neck.

You mean every word of what you’ve said.

You waited every day, watching the skies whenever you could, looking out for that X-Wing of his and praying to the Maker that it’d come screaming back into the atmosphere.

The elation you felt when he finally did come home was indescribable; you nearly tackled him in the hangar.

When he buries his face in your neck, you let him, tilting your head to the side to allow him better access to press soft kisses to your skin.

You want to tell him you love him, too, but you’re just as stubborn as he is, so you bite your tongue.

“Missed you every day,” you tell him. “Couldn’t wait for you to come home.”

He groans at your continued confession, the sound muffled against your skin.

The way you had thrown yourself into his arms when he finally came home is burned into his mind, you’d nearly brought him to his knees, and he’d barely been able to find the strength to let you go.

He’s tried so hard to keep his true feelings hidden, locked away behind a smirk and a wink, but it’s gotten to a point where that’s impossible. He’s starving for you, craves you more than air in every possible way.

“Every single day,” he murmurs, finally breaking his too-long silence. “Wanted you so badly I could barely think straight.”

You remember just as well as he does how tightly you clung to him, how you couldn’t bear to be away from him. You tell him just as much.

“Didn’t want to let go of you in that hangar, I—“ you take a breath, your hands beginning to trace gentle shapes across his sides.

“—I couldn’t. I missed you so much.”

He lets out another soft sound when you say that, something about the vulnerability of your words striking a nerve deep within him. He nuzzles against you further, like he’s trying to imprint the feel of your skin on his for the rest of time.

His heart is racing in his chest, he’s sure that you can feel it.

Poe’s never been good with talking about things like this. The serious stuff. His feelings.

But with you, it all comes easy.

As your fingers glide over his skin, that gentle touch grounding him in reality, in this moment, the dam breaks, and he can’t hold the words in anymore.

“I love you,” he murmurs, the confession barely above a whisper against your skin.

When you hear the words, those words, your entire world slows down on its axis. You’ve been dying to tell him for so long, aching to hear those same words from him.

You wanted to tell him when he came home, when he jumped out of his X-Wing and almost immediately took you into his arms.

You wanted to tell him every time he let you win a game of sabacc, every time he looked at you with those soft eyes, like you were the one that hung the stars in the sky.

Your hands have stilled on his waist, and you’re no longer concerned with touching him when such a confession has just been made.

Shifting slightly in your position, you move so that you’re able to press a kiss to the top of his head, buried in his curls. You nose at him gently, encouraging him to turn his head so that you can press a kiss to his temple, his cheek, and eventually his lips.

“I love you, Poe Dameron.”

The words have never come easier.

He all but melts against you when you say that, aided by the feeling of you pressing kisses all over his face.

For a moment, he almost struggles to believe it—that you of all people, in the entire galaxy, love him.

You love him.

He kisses you, though it’s much slower than anything either of you are used to. It’s intimate, like he’s trying to express his feelings without the use of any more words.

“Love you, sweetheart,” he mutters against your lips.

You’re convinced that the sound of him telling you that is going to be imprinted on your brain for the rest of time, stuck on a loop like a broken holovid.

You kiss him again. And again. It’s like you can’t get enough of him—you couldn’t before, but this confession adds another layer to it.

You feel like you’ve been waiting an eternity to hear him say those words to you, and now that you’ve heard them, you don’t know what to do with yourself.

To try to ground yourself, your hands continue to skim across his sides, fingertips trailing around the warm expanse of skin beneath his shirt like you’re trying to memorize every inch of him.

“Should’ve told you sooner,” he adds, mumbling the words between kisses. “Been going crazy wanting to say it.”

You feel like you’re the one going crazy when he says that, the weight of his words taking root in your mind and refusing to leave.

After what feels like an eternity, you come to your senses just a little bit, managing a response to him.

“Yeah?”

You’re a little more than breathless at this point, clinging desperately to what little composure you have left by this point.

“How long have you wanted to tell me?”

“Months,” he manages, the words mumbled against your lips. “So long. Wanted to say it every time I came home, but I—couldn’t. Couldn’t find the words.”

You let your hands rest there, settled warm against him, taking the time to process the words and the weight of his confession.

The mental image of his words is clear in your mind—the thought of him coming home from a mission, and right when he sees you, tells you he loves you—it’s a good thought. You want to hold onto it forever.

“You should’ve,” you tell him, the words soft against his lips.

He shivers at your touch—you can feel it—and it takes every ounce of strength in him to keep his composure.

He can picture that thought just as well as you can, and the image nearly makes him whine.

“I will next time, I swear,” he promises, the slightest hint of desperation beginning to edge into his tone, his words an earnest confession, soaked in devotion.

You nod in agreement, pressing another soft kiss to his lips to placate him, and he accepts it graciously.

Maker, you don’t know how you got so lucky with someone like him.

“Love you,” you tell him again, just for good measure; you’re starting to get very used to the sound of those words on your lips, the taste of them in your mouth.

He likes the sound of you saying that just as much.

“Say it again,” he mutters, his voice low and thick with emotion.

“Love you, flyboy,” you reiterate, the words murmured like a prayer against his skin.

He sighs wantonly at your words, his hands coming up to rest on either side of your neck, holding you close against him as if nothing else in the world matters.

Something burns within him when you call him flyboy, and he shudders at the sound of that word coming from your mouth.

“Only you,” he starts, voice soft. “Only you get to call me that.”

The warmth in him seems to transfer to you, blooming warm and hazy somewhere in your chest as he says that, telling you that you’re the only one who gets to call him that name.

You can’t stop yourself from kissing him, pressing your lips to his as if to transfer everything you’re feeling into his skin directly.

“It’s one of the reasons I fell in love with you, you know,” you tell him, sincerity bleeding into your tone and cutting through the haze of affection.

“Seeing you up there, flying like you own the skies.”

“Is that right?” He asks you hastily, trying so hard to focus on the teasing when the conversation is so important.

“You fell in love with a hotshot pilot?”

Even now, he can’t help himself from being cocky—it’s just in his nature.

You can’t help but chuckle at that, the juxtaposition between the playful tone of conversation and the way he falls apart at your words seemingly almost too much for you to handle.

You tilt your head slightly, your nose brushing his as you kiss him again, never straying far enough to create any real distance between the two of you; your forehead presses to his when you break, the two of you sharing the same air for a few moments.

“Mm. I fell in love with you, Poe,” you murmur, the words soft between you.

“You just so happen to be a hotshot pilot.”

You can tease just as much as he can.

He scoffs at your words, but the sound is barely anything substantial—a thin veneer of cockiness that he’s putting on as the two of you continue this banter.

He grips you a little bit tighter, but his hands never seem to want to settle, moving from the back of your neck to your hips and everywhere in between.

“Stars, sweetheart,” he mutters, his voice a little more unsteady now.

“You make me feel like I’m gonna come apart at the seams; I love it when you talk like that.”

You can’t help but chuckle softly at that, at the way that his already barely-there filter has completely vanished. This is arguably the most open and honest that you’ve ever seen Poe, and that’s saying something.

Your hands settle overtop of his, forcing him to stop and to give himself a moment to think, and the look in his eyes tells you that he’s grateful for that. He can barely process everything that’s happened this morning, trying to get his head around the weight of the conversation.

It’s sweet, seeing him completely struggling with his words, grappling with the fact that you love him.

For good measure, you remind him again of your feelings, just so that he can really understand that you mean every word.

“I love you, Poe Dameron.”

He softens at the repeated confession, the words seeming to finally sink in for him.

“Love you so much, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice soft and a bit sleepy now; all that love-confessing probably wore him out.

Poe is definitely the type to have a life-changing conversation, and then promptly fall right back asleep afterwards.

“Gonna go back to sleep?” You ask, the slightest hint of a tease in your voice.

He nods, moving to wrap his arms around you a little tighter. Clearly, he just wants you close now more than anything. Before he can secure you in his grip, you turn in his arms, so that his chest is pressed to your back, and he feels so much warmer this time around when he pulls you in close.

He buries his face in the spot where your neck and shoulder meet, pressing a few warm kisses to the skin there.

You grin, satisfied and eager to fall back asleep in his arms, but you can’t help yourself from asking him to say it one more time.

“You love me?” You ask, voice soft and the slightest bit playful.

He nods again, clinging to you a little bit tighter.

“Yes, I love you,” he punctuates the words with another kiss to your neck. “Now go back to sleep.”

You chuckle softly at that, and allow yourself to get settled in his arms. It’s not long before you’re back to sleep, with Poe clinging to you tightly—as if he’d ever let go.

tags: @silvernight-m , @faretheeoscar , @winniethewife , @ivystoryweaver

[silvernight-m]

I promise I will get to all the fics I've been tagged to!

Life happened and disrupted my kinktober plans :(((((

But fret not!

Poevember is here and I shall make life hard for those who wanna join in to NoNuNo😌

Happy Poevember!

[llewyndavissmuse]

𝔸𝕟𝕘𝕤𝕥𝕪 ℙ𝕠𝕖 𝔻𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕣𝕠𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤

WARNINGS: angst obvi, Poe has PTSD and nightmares, Poe having memories and dreams about his mom (and dad), alcoholism, spoilers abt Poe Dameron: Free Fall, mentions of certain things in the Star Wars: Rise of Skywalker Visual Dictionary, uhhh idk what else I think that’s it… lmk if I forgot something

A/N: I KNOW I’M LATE FOR POEVEMBER BUT PLEASE TRUST ME ON THIS… well it’s angst so you can’t really trust me on this, BUT PLEASE LET ME COOK

Lately (mainly because of the First Order-Resistance War and after being held prisoner by Kylo Ren), Poe starts to have nightmares

One night, a particularly vivid, disturbing, and alarming nightmare occurs in his mind, and he wakes up gasping and breathing heavily

He may or may not have cried

(He definitely did)

Leia is the one who notices that Poe is on edge and seems socially isolated

So, she ushers him to see a psychologist

He is diagnosed with PTSD

Poe (being the stubborn lil bitch he is/hj) doesn’t want to believe it at first

But then he realizes that the symptoms match up with what he’s been dealing with perfectly

So, he goes to the Resistance cantina to have a “few” drinks

He gets absolutely wasted and has to be dragged to his quarters by Finn

When he’s drunk, he dreams of his mother, Shara Bey, and talks in his sleep as if he’s calling for her

When he wakes up (with a massive hangover) and finds out that it was just a dream, he takes his necklace with Shara’s wedding ring on it and whispers about how much he misses her

Sometimes he snaps at people without meaning to, he’s just really tired and drained

When he realizes he got a bit too irritated and tries to apologize, the person had already left

As commander, he bottles up his stress to a point where he eventually spills over

And many people dismiss his emotions because he “has to be strong for the Resistance”

He sees his mother in Leia, but will never admit it to her

He thinks about his dad, too

Like, he thinks about what-if scenarios if he never ran away from Yavin 4 and left his dad to join the Spice Runners of Kijimi

He wakes up early. Very early. Like, unhealthily early

He loses his appetite to the point where Leia has to plead him to eat something

Even then, he only eats a small amount and says that he’s full

Sometimes he wishes for a lover

Because he feels like he has nobody to love

(Also because he’s in desperate need for a family again where, this time, he’s the nurturing father instead of the “troublesome” teen)

His mom used to sing to him before she got sick of bloodburn, so he sings her songs sometimes to himself when he needs to calm his nerves

But he hasn’t given up hope

He believes that, one day, he’ll find happiness, comfort, and peace when the war is over (or maybe during the war, he doesn’t know)

But most importantly, he believes that he’ll find love

One day

[ivystoryweaver]

Congrats on 1k!!!!

Loved “There is Someone,” Poe was so adorable w/ his thinking no one would notice he was in love (have you met you, sir? Hiding emotions is not your strength). Any hc’s on how Poe would absolutely fail at hiding his massive crush on a friend?

Happy Poevember!

Thank you! And look at you, linking my story like an absolute legend!

Oblivious Poe is always so cute, he would be the worst at hiding a crush

You catch him staring

He saves you a spot in the cafeteria. Like at every meal.

He remembers the way you like your caf

Supplies and indulgences run slim in the Resistance. Poe saves you a rare piece of fruit, or just the right part you need for your ship, something for your quarters

BB-8 circles your feet regularly. Poe has to come and "find" him.

He tries, and sometimes fails, to be funny. Doesn't realize how hard he's trying

like in the fic, scrubs his hand over the nape of his neck

and his stubble

and his curls. He fidgets. but like somehow it's sexy

casually knows your schedule. Someone is looking for you? "Oh they're in the hangar...in a meeting...on patrol..."

If you make a joke, he laughs the loudest

gives you specific attention. Finn calls him out on it, Poe denies it, says he "acts that way with everyone" (he doesn't)

You get hurt on a mission and he sleeps in the med bay waiting room

Makes sure you're a part of his next mission

Assigns you to his small team so he knows you're safe

Fidgets with his mother’s ring when he’s close to you. Doesn't notice.

✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧

1000 Follower/Holiday Celebration

Poe Dameron Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Follow @ivystoryupdates and turn on notifications to never miss an update

[faretheeoscar]

Poe Dameron and Mae Tal

Join the TagList! • Main Masterlist • Buy me a coffee! • Linktree

Mind you if I infofump a little on my OC's backstory and maybe tell you about her dynamics with Poe?

My Star Wars OC character, Mae, is part of Clan Tal, a clan that was thought to be extinguished after the events of "The night of a Thousand Tears "

[ The Night of a Thousand Tears was the night on which the Galactic Empire massacred the Mandalorian people on the planet Mandalore during the Great Purge of Mandalore ]

Mae’s grandfather, Ebbel, survived the massacre on Mandalore. He was off-planet on Concordia at the time, attempting to infiltrate the ranks of the Death Watch. After the tragedy on Mandalore, he chose to remain on Concordia, helping raise the Children of the Watch. Believing they were the last Mandalorian survivors, Ebbel dedicated himself to the safety of the group.

Later in life, Ebbel had several children, including Mae’s father, Drex Tal. Raised within the strict orthodoxy of the Children of the Watch, Drex eventually left the group when he met Lyra, a Rebel pilot with whom he fell in love. The two settled on Lyra’s home planet, Ferrix, serving as backup for the Alliance, but living mostly a normal life. they had four children together, including their only daughter, Mae.

Mae grew up on Ferrix, far from the main traditions of the Children of the Watch. However, her father Drex still trained her in their Mandalorian ways, while Lyra passed down her knowledge of piloting. When Lyra fell ill and passed away, Drex withdrew from active duty in the Alliance, as it had never been his primary fight.

As a result, Mae had little involvement with the Resistance when it rose against the First Order—until much later. Trying to earn money for a new ship, she initially served as a double agent for the First Order but was eventually recruited by a faction of the Resistance on the Outer Rim. Mae’s unique skills as a Mandalorian pilot quickly attracted attention, and she was soon stationed at the Yavin IV base, reporting directly to Leia during the events of The Force Awakens. There, she met Poe.

Mae and Poe clash constantly, their personalities polar opposites in nearly every way. Poe is exasperated by her contradictory actions and unconventional methods, while Mae despises his hotheaded impulsiveness. They bicker and argue frequently; Mae often disobeys his direct orders, yet somehow manages to get the job done efficiently each time. This only irritates Poe further, and he finds ways to tease her in return, like joking that he can always tell when she’s approaching the hangar because her armor sounds like a “parade of clanking cans.”

There's a lot of story between Poe and Mae, that happens along the fight of the Resistance against the First Order and afterwards.

Its's sort of a Co-pilots to Friends to Situationship to Semi Enemies to Lovers thing (it's very freaking complicated,ngl.)

Anyways… I’ve never actually written down a summary of Mae’s backstory or a quick outline of how she interacts with Poe, so this was really fun.

I was just planning to post it without much context, but once I started writing, I couldn’t stop hehe

I did this sketch a few months ago, but I wanted to share it, while I keep working on other Poevember things and requests!

Thanks for reading my ramblings if you got until here!

HAPPY POEVEMBER!

Reblogs and comments are kindly appreciated!

@silvernight-m @ierofrnkk @howellatme @winniethewife

[spectordameron]

Happy birthday, Nym!! 🎂💛

And happy Poevember 😊

Ily, I appreciate you, and I'm grateful I met you and joined this fandom.

orb!!!!! 🥺 this message is so sweet, I love and appreciate you too! You make my dashboard a brighter place and I'm so giddy when you send me stuff you think I'll like (esp since I'm such a cryptid I can miss them)!

And a very happy Poevember to you too!! So grateful to have my birthday to fall on the start of such a special event 😌