#poe dameron/reader

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Ahhhh I love those kiss prompts!!

What about 29 for Poe except the force drawing them together is literally the force wielded by someone tired of watching two people dance around each other?

Send me a kiss prompt!

This idea is so fricking CUTE!

Prompt: Staring at each other’s lips for a moment before moving closer, as if drawn together by some unseen force

"Would you knock it off?" You groaned as you felt Poe pressed against your side again.

"You knock it off!"

"I'm not doing anything!"

"Well, neither am I!" Poe argued. You scowled, scooching away from him on the bench for the fifth time in the last ten minutes. It just kept happening. Every few moments, you felt this nudge, and then found yourself closer to Poe than you had been just moments ago.

You began to feel it again, and you grasped the edge of the canteena table, trying to keep yourself in one spot, grimacing as you were pushed along the bench.

"No—No nononono—Damnit," You hissed as you were pressed into Poe's side.

"Cut it out!"

"I'm not doing anything!" You swore, looking at him. Your stomach flipped at his clenched jaw, gaze sweeping from his lips, up to his eyes. Poe's chest heaved with tight breaths, his gaze lowering to your eyes in turn.

What was he...

Your stomach flipped as you saw Poe lean closer, and felt a press against the back of your head.

"I'm not doing this," Poe shook his head.

"No, I'm not either."

"Then stop."

"I can't!"

"Neither can I—!"

The two of you went quiet as your lips met. Your eyes widened slightly at the feeling of his lips slipping against yours, his tongue swiping across your lips. Your eyes closed after a moment, the force dropping away from your head, replaced by Poe's hand. You sighed softly, pressing into his side—on purpose, this time.

--

"Took them long enough," Finn muttered, watching Rey lower her hand, "Thanks."

"I don't mind," She shrugged, smiling. "I'm happy to practice."

[grumpyeagleandfriends]

À Terre II | Poe Dameron x OC/Reader

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

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

Rating: T

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

Word count: 5,439

Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit…

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

“Dameron, get over here!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No...n-no… "

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

Dr. Kalonia cursed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Poe…"

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

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

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

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

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

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

She had to pull through this.

She had to be fine.

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

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

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

"Heart rate is increasing!" Someone announced.

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

"Dameron, out!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

________________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She was alive.

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

"Follow me, Dameron..."

________________________

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

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

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

Kalonia stood aside to let him enter first.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Poe blinked, taking a moment to process the information. 

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

“No more than 2 to 3 days.” 

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

“Look, Dameron…” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He couldn’t let her fully pronounce the word. 

"Alright!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The question was spoken in a near whisper. 

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

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

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

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

Kalonia’s hand found his arm.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because "peaceful" had never been Hol. 

Conniving.

Stubborn.

Impulsive.

A pain in his ass.

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

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

And his girl wasn’t fucking dead. 

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

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

@idkwhattoputheress @boghag-after-dark @faveficsblog @flyleaf-girl @whatthehekko @maplemind @foxilayde @arctrooper69 @pascalsaac @booktvmoviefangirl @tattooednursewrites @wild-lavender-rose @alexlynn16 @euphorealis @pioneergirlsie @lilhawkeye3 @theedgeofmagik @x-wing-dameron @kik51199 @isretroavibe @mrs-kidflash @rawrimacarebear @peterwandaparker @kassdyer @holdingthegun

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[lincolndjarin]

All I Ask of You

[phantom of the opera au]

phantom!din djarin x soprano!reader & viscount!poe dameron x soprano!reader

[ postponed indefinitely ]

Summary : You are a gifted soprano brought into the spotlight of the most popular opera house on Coruscant. After reconnecting with a childhood friend he can’t help but ask where you learned to sing, after all, you never showed much interest in it when you were young. You see no reason to lie, telling him of the angel who visits you, giving you vocal lessons in the dark of the night. He laughs it off, insisting you join him for dinner but you don’t find the situation to be funny at all. Your angel has strict rules, and the last thing you want to do is upset him.

Content Warnings, etc : 18+ mdni, language, angst, smut, dubcon, graphic violence, manipulation, extreme canon divergence

to be updated on the release of this fic follow @lincolndjarinnotifs !!

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three

chapter four

regarding the dubcon waring :

for anyone unfamiliar with the phantom of the opera, the phantom essentially convinces christine that he is the ghost of her father and manipulates and lies to her to convince her to obey him.

im gonna completely cut out a lot of the fathers ghost stuff bc i dont love it. that being said im going mostly off of my favorite version of this show (the royal albert hall version) and there is also a sort of hypnosis situation? its never really verified on whats actually happening but based on my interpretation of the source material, the phantom is controlling christine to a certain extent. in my version that aspect will still exist but all sex scenes will be consensual from both parties.

[aspitefulwriter]

OUT OF TOUCH [Ch. 6]

(Poe Dameron x AFAB!reader)

warnings: PTSD, more violence, panic attack

author’s note: begging on my hands and knees for forgiveness for just now getting this out

word count: ~2.4k

I post on ao3 first!

Series Masterlist

At the sight of Denel pinned beneath a burly human male pummeling any weak point he could reach, the familiar cradle of anger seeps into every synapse within your muscles.

Poe sharply shouts your name, overpowering the jeers that fill the space of the cafeteria as you launch yourself at the man. He lets out a grunt as his back collides with the floor beside Denel, a series of other sounds quickly falling in succession as you lay crushing hits to his face. Thump thump thump your heart thunders in your ears, drowning out the crowd around you. The man attempts to shove you off, but the adrenaline coursing through your veins allows you to situate his arms to be pressed beneath your shins as you sit on his chest.

You feel a weak pull at the fabric of your shirt, but you can’t pay attention to it. The only thing that consumes you is the need to see the blood of this man splattering the floors. What the tunnel vision doesn’t allow you to see is the crowd start to get closer to the pair of you, causing a shock when an arm wraps around your middle and pulls you off.

Wiggling in their hold, you stab your elbow into their side to get back into the fight when your eyes fall to the crumpled position of Denel. Like water to a flame, the anger is seeped from your body, leaving panic in its place. Blood pours from a wound above his eyebrow like a faucet, pooling on the floor where it’s joined by a stream leaking from both nostrils.

Pulling at the person’s hold again, you screech: “Let go of me!”

The hold is released and you fall to your knees, crawling over to where he lays and skimming your shaking hands over his face to appraise him. Bruises are already starting to bloom on his face, but much to your relief, the wound above his eyebrow doesn’t appear as large as the blood flow makes it out to be. However, he’s dazed, wincing and eyes closing in pain as the fluorescent light breaks through the narrow slits that he tried to look at you through.

With a glare, you glance at the man you tackled who lays on the floor unconscious and the surrounding faces of the Resistance that had now quieted.

“And you say you are the good side.” You snarl, and their eyes guiltily dart away from where you stare them down.

You try to pull Denel up, but in his state he’s hardly able to lift himself up. He groans in effort as you get him to sit up, Poe kneeling beside you to help but you snap at him.

“I can do it.” As soon as the words leave your lips, you feel guilty. You didn’t want to take your anger out on Poe yet again, especially when you definitely couldn’t lift Denel on your own, but the betrayal you felt at your teammate being attacked festered in you.

Ignoring you, Poe softly says “No you can’t,” wrapping his arm across Denel’s shoulders. With a nod you two lift him up and settle him between you. The crowd splits to allow you to exit, everyone you pass avoiding your gaze like cowards. It seems ridiculously juvenile, and you couldn’t believe you replaced for one playground for another.

You and Poe slowly walked Denel to the med unit in silence. Disappointment towards yourself settled on your shoulders, adding to the weight of your teammate against you. Was it a good idea to come here? Verbal—and now physical— attacks were thrown at you every time you stepped out of the safety of your quarters. At the time of your escape, you considered this the only available place of safety in the galaxy, considering the experience you had in the Order. However the constant challenges against that choice were becoming tiresome.

You look over at Denel who pants in short and rapid breaths, likely due to at least one broken rib. The guy was huge. Turning your attention back to the hallways in front of you, you blankly stare at the floor.

Maybe even Tatooine would have been a better choice than this pit.

_____

You lean your back against the wall with your arms crossed as you listen to the nurses deal with the wounds that Denel sustained. A broken nose, 2 broken ribs, a concussion, and a quarter-inch gash above the eyebrow. Luckily, the unit recently was able to their hands on bacta and so he should be close to normal by at least tomorrow, but the dread stays settled in your gut.

Poe exits out of the door that stands to your left, joining you as he tenderly rubs at his ribs with a sigh. You glance at him in curiosity.

“What happened?” You asked, staring at where he rubs.

He chuckles, a smile adorning his face, “Oh you know…tried to pull a blood hungry wolf off of a someone who tried to mess with a member of her pack.” Your eyebrows pull together in concern.

“That was you?” You face him and lay your hand on his ribs, your head falling to rest of his chest, “Oh Poe—Kriff, I’m so sorry. Genuinely.” Guilt floods you and heat burns at your face. Why does this keep happening?

Poe’s hands rest on your back and he softly traces a thumb back and forth, “You should’ve seen the other guy,” He says, humor laced in his voice.

You lift your head, “Are you okay?” You ask, still concerned.

“I’m fine. Just a bruise.” His eyes trail down to your hands, where he lets his own hands fall to, lifting them up and staring at the blood that litters your knuckles.

“Throwing it back to you…are you okay? You need to see the nurses to get this taken care of.” At the warmth radiating from his palms into yours, you pull away, not wanting to unpack the feeling that you got from how comforting it was.

“It’s okay. I’ve had worse…” You trail off, but he looks less than pleased.

“I’m not having someone in my care risk the chance of infection,” Poe states, pulling you into the room where Denel lays on one of many patient beds, 3 nurses surrounding him. He weakly smiles at you as you pass, which you return.

Poe leads you to another nurse, who stands in a further corner of the room looking at a collection of supplies. You look in amusement as he explains what you need, and it’s at this moment you’re happy you have at least one person truly on your side from this base.

After being cleaned and wrapped with a medicated gauze, you sit in a chair by Denel’s side, who now looks much fresher since given his initial treatment. Poe decided he could wait outside to give the two of you space, and you appreciated the privacy it somewhat gave you considering each bed was separated by a fabric curtain.

“So,” you start, “how did you end up on the floor?”

He’s silent for a moment, pursing his lips in thought before responding. “I wasn’t expecting to be swung at. Honestly, I don’t even know what started it.” His index finger on a hand that lays across his chest starts to bounce up and down.

“I had heard him and his group talking among themselves about me. I’ve been able to tune most everything out when it comes to conversations around this base. Nothing good ever comes of listening to them…they just want to get a rise out of you to see if you fit their expectations,” He takes a staggered breath before continuing, “Maybe I ignored something he said or he took one of my self-mumblings to heart, but one moment I was standing and the next I was on the floor.”

You shake your head in disbelief. Is this really how deep the hatred lays among the people in the Resistance? Though you had to be fair—the First Order is an oppressing hand on the galaxy and you know the horrors that were done on the people who didn’t agree with how they rule.

You lean forward in your chair to allow your head to fall into your hands. “I’m sorry. We never should have come here.”

A silence rests between you again, only broken by the sounds of beeping and shuffling feet that usually accompany a med unit.

“It’s—I—,” He stumbles on his words, “I consider it karma for what I did to Kole” he says, and your head snaps up to look at him in shock. A somber and ingenuine smile lifts the corner of his mouth and you frown in return.

“That’s bantha shit, Denel. Whatever karma that may have needed to be fulfilled for Kole was done when Ren put you on death’s door. What happened today should not have happened.”

He doesn’t say anything as he just stares at you before giving a single nod, probably just to shut you up.

You look at him in earnest, “Please promise me you understand today wasn’t deserved.”

With a sigh and dramatic roll of his eyes, “I promise, Commander .” Your spine zips up like a pole was stabbed straight down your back and you suddenly felt uncomfortable to be sitting in the room.

You purse your lips and stand up slowly. “That’s not me anymore,” you say softly.

You give a small pat to his shoulder, “Get some rest.” And you leave the room, walking right past Poe.

You need to isolate yourself. Too much has happened today and all you wanted was the dark recesses of your windowless room. You can hear Poe’s footsteps behind you and the concerned call of your name, but you didn’t want to answer him. What was the point? Sure, one person on base that was consistently on your side was nice. But what about all of the others?

There were hundreds of people here that wanted you dead, for good reason. You commanded a team of killers that assassinated whole legions of people who just wanted a separate life free from the demand of the First Order. What kind of person were you to live while billions of innocents perished at the power that you enforced?

Thump thump thump your heart thunders in your ears again and your eyes get watery as you recall the blood that covered your hands hardly an hour ago. You unclench your fists that you unconsciously had tightened by your side and stare at them in horror. Why are these the hands chosen to still move when the only life they’ve known was to harm the lives of others? You arrive at your quarters and slam the button to your door, stiffly walking to your bed and collapsing on the floor to cradle your knees to your chest.

Thump thump thump your chest starts to hurt and you claw at your sternum, gasping for breath as tears cascade from your eyes. Guilt consumes you, the pain eating you from the inside as it starts to get harder and harder to breathe. You had to find somewhere to go, leave in the night to the farthest planet out of reach from the war and stay there until death inevitably calls for you. You start to shake now, tremors and shivers wracking your body as each explosion and lifeless body you’ve caused flash by your eyes, sobs leaving your mouth and—

Suddenly there’s only Poe, the warmth from his palms radiating into your shoulders as a look you could only describe as unbridled alarm molds his face.

“It’s alright, you’re okay, you’re safe,” He repeats, cycling through them and starting to rub up and down your arms.

You sniffle. “No, it’s not alright and I’m not okay. I shouldn’t even be here, Poe. All I’ve ever done is hurt people, and being here is continuing the damage I was born to do.” He stops his ministrations as he listens unblinkingly, “You of all people shouldn’t be telling me it’s okay, especially when it’s you I keep on hurting.”

Another shiver shakes your body as you continue, “I hate hurting people…I hate hurting you . And the more I think about it, the more guilty I am that I’m still alive to do it.” Sobs wrack you again and your head falls to your knees to hide your face from Poe, who never looked away as you poured out the thoughts that kept you up at night.

Instead of resuming the movement from before, he slowly slid himself next to you and maneuvered you to where you could lean against him as he wrapped his arms around you. He’s silent as he lets you cry, his thumb rubbing soothing circles until you eventually cry yourself to sleep.

______

Opening your eyes, a black abyss is all that meets you. Except…it’s not. You sit up, and the water you lay in drips down your back soundlessly into the shallow pool that caresses a sheer blood red dress that loosely holds you. A copy similar to the gray that adorns your form in the dream that meets you all other nights of the week. Unlike your other dream as well, there’s a combination of scattered whispers that feel so close and yet so far—inexplicably like they’re just out of reach.

Looking around in interest, you try to make out any other difference from what you’re beginning to get used to but see nothing before you turn your head to look straight in front of you. And then there it is.

Standing only feet in front of you, towering over where you remain seated, is a figure shrouded completely in black.

“You’ll return to what you know, child.” It says, it’s tone scratchy and deep.

“Wha—?” As you start to move to stand up, you’re shoved down by a heavy force unlike any you’ve ever known, the breath knocking straight out of you.

The water surrounding you is illuminated red as the figure pulls out a lightsaber much like the one Ren yields, their arm extends up and just as they swing down you gasp awake.

Poe startles awake as well, asking what was going on as if you knew either.

Unbeknownst to you, in a part of the galaxy far far away, joined Kylo Ren. Quickly pulling himself from his bed, he shrugged on his uniform and latched his mask. There had been a disturbance in the force.

a/n: probably going to fix this up tomorrow when I’m not tired. Thank you all for sticking with this!!

Taglist:

@mydaydreaming-stuff @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace

(let me know if you want to be tagged)

[constellation-em]

poe proposing to you

Okay here's the deal; I'm trying to break out my writers block so I wrote some quick little blurbs, didn't proofread them, and posted them on ao3 (@marvel_van_hogh on there as well). So, without any further ado, here you go:

“I’m leaving for six months.” He looked you dead in the eyes. He didn’t have his signature smirk, no twinkle in his eyes. He wasn’t joking.

“Poe you can’t be serious,” you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes. He closed the gap between the two of you, grabbing both of your hands in his. 

“I’m sorry sweets. I swear I’ll come back. I promise on the entire universe I will come back for you.” He gripped your hands tighter, looking deep into your eyes. 

“You can’t promise that. It’s war, Poe.”

“I can.”

And just like that, Poe was down on one knee, his mothers ring held out in front of you. You had been so caught up in the moment that you didn’t realise it wasn’t around his neck like it usually was. 

Wait.

What’s happening?

“Poe?” You looked down at him, your left hand still in his right. You could feel your heart beating a mile a minute and the tears were coming faster now- you just didn’t know what emotions they were conveying. 

“Marry me, darling. The universe wouldn’t dare take a husband from his partner.” He took a deep breath. You could see it, hear it, feel it. There was a moment of hesitation in both of you.

“Poe.”

“Darling.”

“We’re in a war.”

“And I’m in love.”

-

Six months later, your husband returned to you safe and just a little scratched up. He was right. The universe wouldn’t dare take him away from you, but you weren’t sure that was the marriage’s doing. He told people he only proposed because he wanted to lock you in before he went away for a while, but you both knew the truth. In glances shared across the room during parties, in shared breakfasts in the canteen in the morning, and in sweet cuddles in the dark of the night, you both knew the truth.

He was in love with you, and you were in love with him.

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

So anyway if you liked it feel free to leave a note and maybe follow me? I've been trying to be more active as well as fight the bots haha

[my-morai]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Star Wars - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Poe Dameron/Reader, Poe Dameron/You, Poe Dameron & Reader Characters: Poe Dameron, Reader, Jessika Pava Additional Tags: Reader-Insert, Protective Poe Dameron, Hurt Poe Dameron, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Poe gets in a fight, Poe is an idiot in love, You save the day, One Shot, Poe defends your honor, Romantic Poe Dameron, No use of y/n Summary:

When Poe gets in a fight on your behalf, you step in to take care of him and talk about what caused the fight to happen in the first place.

[mylovelies-docx]

Omg I'm almost at 100 followers (and I don't think any are bots)! What should I do to celebrate?

So I could draw inspiration from Conan Gray's new(er) Superache album for Poe. It'd be like another installment in my Kid Krow series, but as a completely separate story, ya know? The only thing connecting them would be that they're both inspired by Conan.

For Bucky, I've already got a good portion of that series written but I was wanting to get nearer to the end before posting just so I could retcon any plot holes that popped up along the way. But I do like where it's going as of now, I'll just have to think of an ending lol

[aphrcdites]

the bond between a girl and their favorite fictional man is both an unstoppable force and an immovable object

[bethsvrse]

me staring at my ceiling after y/n does the most FLABBERGASTING thing ever

[l0caltiredgirl]

when i want fluff/angst fics and all i’m getting is smut

the struggle is real

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Kinktober Day 10

Day Nine | 🌹Kinktober Masterlist🌹 | Day Eleven

Pairing: Stripper!Poe Dameron x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Any minors interacting with ANY of these Kinktober prompts will be blocked.

Warnings: Stripping; car sex; clothed man/partially clothed woman; grinding

“Ladies, please welcome to the stage—Flyboooooy!” 

A scream goes up from the surrounding crowd, and it’s so loud that you have to fight the urge to raise your hands and plug your ears. Your best friend leans over, whacks your leg, insists, “This is the one I told you about!” She practically has to yell to be heard over the pounding music, and the continuous clamor around you, “This is why I wanted to come here for my bachelorette—Oh my god, look at him!” 

You manage to tear your gaze from your best friend’s glowing expression to look up at where she's pointing. And—goddamn are you glad that you do. Your mouth falls open involuntarily as you take in the sight of him.

The man on the stage is breathtakingly beautiful. 

He’s…Glistening. That’s gotta be body oil, or something, right? He has to have been oiled up before he came out. He literally just got on stage, there’s no way he’s so sweaty already. Does he do that himself, or is that, like…A job that you could apply for—? 

Your gaze travels from the heavy boots on his feet, up over the orange flight suit that’s been unzipped to his navel, showcasing his rippling abs as he gyrates under the lights. You look further upward, slowly letting your eyes slip over his pecs, his neck, the plush plumpness of his smiling lips, up over the slope of his nose. You can’t see his eyes well, but from what you can see, they look dark and warm, and inviting. His tongue sweeps across his lips as he shifts and dances to the song being blared over the strip club’s speakers. You sink back into your seat as if it could swallow you—as if the man wouldn’t be able to spot you beyond what must be blinding lights. 

It’s only a few moments before he’s gravitating toward the crowd on either side of the stage, rolling his hips and grinning as bills are tucked into his flight suit. He makes his way to the front of the stage as he shrugs off his sleeves and flexes, inciting a fresh wave of admiration from the people in the front row. Your friend is no different—she’s practically jumping out of her seat and waving her fist full of dollars. Despite that, as Flyboy walks down the stairs, he makes a decisive beeline right toward you. 

Your mouth is hanging open almost stupidly. Your hands flex in the fabric of your dress, and you press yourself further back into the seat. Maybe he’s actually looking past you? Maybe he’s going to go right past you and—

You suck in a nervous breath as he plants his hands on the leather of the booth on either side of your head, lowering himself to straddle your lap. You peer up at him, stunned. What do you even do now? You can’t touch him, right? Are you smiling? 

He lowers himself, speaking just loudly enough for you to hear him over the music. 

“First time?” 

His voice is so inviting and smooth—and jeez, are you that obvious? Do you seem so out of place? You nod a little, thighs squeezing shut as his hips thrust and roll slowly against you. He leans back to get a better look at you, grinning as he undulates in your lap. You lean up, calling out, “She’s the bride!” And nodding beside yourself. It’s not loud enough, apparently, because he doesn't so much as look in her direction. You gather your courage and lean into him, curling your hand around one side of his jumpsuit, and hauling him into you. His eyes widen a touch as his arms bend to allow for the movement. You go still, your brain scrambled with him so close to you. You lean up, certain that he’ll lean away. When he holds still, you lean into his ear, pointing to your best friend. 

“It’s her bachelorette party,” You tell him. It takes him a moment before he nods, patting your side gently. He shifts over to your friend, a grin taking up residence on his lips as he straddles her lap. She lets out a shriek of excitement, her hands shoving bills into the jumpsuit as Flyboy snaps back into action. You can’t help but watch him covetously, eyes traveling over him as he takes your friend’s hand and leads her up the steps to the stage. Your envy swells as he lowers her to the ground, his biceps bulging as he braces himself over her. He glances up toward you, shooting you a warm grin and a wink before he refocuses on your best friend. 

--  

“How’s your head, girly?” You ask, tipping your head toward the phone in your dashboard holder, eyes set on the road. Your friend just groans in response, and you can’t help but smile. 

“Please tell me you’re not going into work,” You add.

“Already called out.” 

“Atta girl.” You lean back in your seat as you reach a red light. “Drink plenty of room temp water, eat some plain rice or pasta, take your advil. I’ll call to check on you later.” 

“Mm.” 

“Okay. Love you, too.”

You reach out, hanging up the phone before you shift your attention back to the road. You turn down the block, frowning as you hear a clanking noise from the engine. Oh—No, no, no, not good. You manage to pull the car over just as smoke rises from beneath the hood. Ugh, goddamnit. You groan, tipping your head back against the headrest and whacking your hand against the steering wheel as an acrid scent makes its way to you. Motherfucker. So much for running wedding errands. You sigh, taking your phone out of its holder on the dashboard and typing in mechanics near me. 

--  

You’re staring again. You know that you shouldn’t be, but…Goddamn, how is this man just as attractive in the middle of a garage as he is on the club stage? He’s in a jumpsuit again, but it’s dark blue, and actually on all the way. It’s unzipped, revealing a white muscle tee with a few smudges of oil. 

Someone clearing their throat beside you makes you jolt, and you look up, slapping a smile on as the young woman that had shown you into the garage (Rey is on her name tag in red thread) passes you coffee in a styrofoam cup. 

“Thanks,” You murmur before raising it to your lips. There’s no reason to blow on it other than to give you something to do with your mouth. 

The mechanic glances at you as he straightens up from bending over your car. 

“Shouldn’t take too long,” He reassures with a small smile.

You have no idea what that means. 

“Ah, right. Of course.” 

He chuckles softly, and your stomach flips at the sound. 

“Not much of a car person?” He plies. 

“No, not really,” You admit, shaking your head. He nods, turning back to his work. For a few blissful moments, you think that you may be able to just sit there and peacefully scroll through instagram reels for the hour. 

Unfortunately, luck is not on your side. 

“So did you enjoy yourself?” He asks. 

You frown. “When my car broke down?” 

The man casts you a knowing look over his shoulder, and you know that you’re caught as goosebumps break out across your body. You offer him a guilty smile before raising the coffee cup to your lips to try and hide it. 

“Your friend seemed to have a good time,” He adds.

“Oh, she did. It was her idea to go there, actually, she uh…She goes there pretty often.”

“Not your usual night out?” 

“No, definitely not. I mean, I don’t mean definitely like—it’s just not my go-to. I do other things, other non-strip-club things.” You have never spoken this much or this badly in your entire life. “Not that it wasn’t nice! I mean it was great, you guys were all, uh…Spectacular.” 

His brows jump and lower in the space of a second before he repeats, “Spectacular,” To himself in a mutter. Damnit, why did you have to say that? Why couldn't you just say it was great or fun like a normal human being? You set the coffee cup aside and stand from your seat, wandering toward the car and leaning against the side to watch him work. He’s a different kind of attractive as he works so diligently. You watch as his hands move with steady surety, his focus heavy on the components beneath the hood. 

“How did you wind up being Flyboy?” You ask, unable to staunch your curiosity any longer. “I mean is it something that was assigned to you or did they already have, like, a cop and a cowboy and a construction worker…”

“You do know that it’s a strip club and not the Village People?” He asks, smile widening as your face goes hot with embarrassment. He waves off your apology before you can voice it, adding, “I chose the character.” 

“It’s a good one…Suits you,” You add as he lifts his chin to look at you again. “I mean, the jumpsuit is very, um,” You wave a hand toward him. “It’s a good look. Solid. Works now, too, even though it’s…Different.” 

You ought to sit back down. Let the man do his work. You start to push yourself away from the car, but before you can get far, he straightens up and holds his hand out to you. 

“I’m Poe.” 

Poe. It suits him just as well as Flyboy does. 

You shake his hand as you give him your name, trying not to hone in on his warm, steady grasp. 

“It’s nice to meet you.” 

“You, too,” You nod. You begin to draw away, but you hear Poe curse softly, taking hold of your wrist. Your stomach flips as you look down at your palm, spotting a smudge of oil there. 

“I’m sorry,” He draws a rag out from his pocket and gently scrubs at the spot. 

“It’s okay,” You smile. You lift your gaze to his as his movements slow, and find him watching you closely. The way he watches you is different from last night. It doesn’t have that bright, devil-may-care look that you’d seen just a few hours ago. You lower your gaze back to your hand, bashfully drawing it out of his grip. 

“I, uh—I should let you work.” 

“And I should stop getting oil all over you.” 

You let out a nervous laugh, giving a small, lame wave before heading back to your seat. 

--  

It’s late when you spot an unfamiliar cellphone on the floorboard of your car. You’re not even sure how Poe's phone got in there—he never got into your car. But it couldn’t be anyone else’s. You make a call to the club, hopeful that you can just drop it off, but when you get there, you’re shown to a table. 

“I really, um—” You bumble, lowering yourself into the seat reluctantly, “I just needed to drop something off for Po—I mean, for Flyboy—” Crap, don’t call him that, they’ve gotta know his real name, right? 

“He’s up in a minute, I can bring you back afterwards.” 

Back? Afterwards? You’re not sure which part of that is more concerning, but the announcer is crowing, “Flyboooooooooy!”, and it’s just too late to do anything but stare at a deer in the headlights. 

…Well, that’s not exactly true. You could definitely still get up and not watch this. You know where the bathroom is, it’s not like they would’ve moved it since yesterday. But you find yourself glued to the seat, and you’re entranced by the way he moves all over again. His raw sensuality seems at once in concert and at odds with the way he looked into your eyes this morning. 

You can still leave, right? You can sneak away, and leave the phone with the bartender, or—

Or you could stay completely glued to your seat as Poe heads right toward you again. Oh, crap. Your BFF isn’t even there for you to nod him toward. You sit stock-still and stunned as Poe straddles your lap, grasping the booth behind you. He moves so seamlessly, rolling his hips with ease and fluidity. You can’t help but stare. Your gaze sweeps over his rippling muscles as you take in the musky scent of his cologne, and the heat of his body over yours. Your eyes drift back up to his face, and you can’t help but smile at the warm glint in his eyes, and the wink that he gives you. You lean up, speaking into his ear, 

“Shouldn’t you be performing for people who can actually give you something?” 

He laughs, nodding a little. “Maybe.” 

But he doesn’t budge. 

--  

“He’s over there,” One of the other performers waves you toward the other end of the dressing room. You mutter your thanks before you avert your eyes, hurrying through the scantily clad male performers. It is so damn embarrassing. Do they think you’re just some random creep that doesn’t know the line between what happens on stage and their real lives? Do they know Poe was grinding up against you just a little while ago? Do they know that you’re helplessly turned on, dripping wet from his attention?

When you finally catch sight of Poe, he's fully clothed, wearing a pair of dark sweatpants and a t-shirt. It’s almost odd to see him in something other than a jumpsuit. He turns his head, smile blooming as he catches sight of you. 

“Hey there.” 

“Hi.” 

Poe casts a glance over your shoulder before he nods over his shoulder and holds his hand out, urging, “C’mon.” 

Glancing behind yourself, you find the other performers watching the two of you with interest. You take hold of Poe’s hand, letting him lead you out through a back door. You step into a small back courtyard with him, glancing around. With how plush the interior of the club is, you shouldn’t be so surprised by how nice it is out there, too. The space is paved with light-toned stone; there’s a staircase to your right that seems to lead up to a porch. There are a few benches further back, and what appears to be a dormant water fountain. 

“Do you guys do events out here?” You ask.

“Sometimes, yeah. In the summer.” Poe tucks his hands into his pockets, leaning against the wall beside you. “So, did you enjoy yourself?” 

You warm with bashfulness as you nod, your smile widening as he grins. 

“It’s like I said earlier, you’re all very talented.” 

“I believe the word you used at the garage was spectacular.” 

Dangit, you’re never going to live that down. 

“Yes, I—It was. oh, before i forget...” You fish into your pocket, drawing Poe’s phone out. It lights up as you do, exposing an absolutely precious picture of a corgi puppy at a pumpkin patch, an orange and white bandana tucked into his collar. 

“Right, thank you.” He takes it from you and puts it into his pocket without checking for any missed messages or calls. 

“How did it wind up in my car, anyway?” You frown. “You worked on, you know,” You wave your hand vaguely toward empty air. “The outside.” 

“Must’ve slipped when I leaned into to make sure she was starting up right.” 

Your eyes narrow slightly as you nod slowly. 

“Right…And I would buy that if you hadn’t asked me to do that for you while you kept an eye on things under the hood.” 

Poe’s smile never wavers, but he does huff a quiet laugh before dropping his eyes and raising his hands in surrender. 

“Alright, busted,” He nods. Your brows jump. 

“So how—”

“I might’ve chucked it in there when you went to pay the bill.”

“Why?”

“How else was I supposed to see you again?” 

Your stomach swoops at the admission, stunned. Poe’s gaze sweeps across your face as he steps a little closer. His eyes drift from yours, down to your lips, and linger there for a moment before gently sweeping up again, fixing you with a sweet, curious gaze. 

“Tell me if I’m way off-base here,” He murmurs. You give a small shake of your head, reaching out and gently trailing your fingers over the back of his hand. He ducks in, lips brushing hesitantly against yours before he gives you a sweet kiss. Your eyes slip shut at the tender pressure, your hand lifting to cup his cheek as his arms curl around your waist. You lean into him, smiling as he turns you, pressing you back against the building. You loop your arms around his shoulders, teasing your tongue across his lips. He parts his lips with a sigh, and your clit throbs as his tongue tangles filthily with yours. 

You jump, reeling back when someone bangs on the door beside you from the inside. 

“You two done out there?” A man calls out, “Ben’s itching for a smoke break before the next show and he’s being a dick to everyone that area being for dancers only.” 

Poe groans softly, calling back, “Alright, thanks, Finn!” 

He leans in, peppering your jaw with sweet kisses. You’re certain that the two of you will part ways, but he tips his chin up, murmuring,

“Did you drive here?” 

--  

It’s a mad dash to your car from the club. The sky opens up and pours rain the minute you step outside. You grasp Poe’s hand, running through the downpour. By the time you reach the car and get the doors open (it takes a little longer than usual—the battery in your key fob is on the fritz), the two of you are dripping wet and panting. You each duck into the front seat, doors slamming shut on either side. The two of you practically collide as you lean in to kiss over the console. 

You groan quietly, the sound nearly drowned out by the hammering of the rain on the roof. Poe draws your lower lip between his teeth, giving it a rough tug, only letting go when you whimper. 

“Fuck—C’mere,” Poe urges, cranking the seat lever and pushing it as far back as it’ll go, stopping until it’s nearly flush with the backseat. You gracelessly maneuver across the console, whacking your knee against the gear shift on your way. Poe grasps the waistband of your leggings, drawing you down on top of him. You lean closer, pressing your chest to his as you blindly seatch for the lever to recline the seat. Poe’s hands smooth up your back as you catch hold of it. You yank it a little too fast, causing the two of you to jolt as the seat drops. The whack of the seat against the backseat makes Poe’s head bounce, whacking into yours. You both yelp, reaching for your heads as Poe laughs. 

“Oh—I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” You gasp through Poe’s laughter. He shakes his head, lowering his hand, his eyes bright in the cramped, dim interior.

“It’s alright, I'm fine,” He insists, still chuckling. “Are you?”

“I’m fine,” You nod. His grin melts as the laughter quiets, leaning up as you curl into him again. You dip your head, flicking your tongue against his lips. His mouth opens with a quiet groan as his hands smooth up your back. You settle more fully on top of him, rolling your hips down. Oh—god, you can feel him hardening in sweatpants. Poe leans up, kissing along your neck as you begin to grind down against him. He hums against your skin. 

“This is starting to feel eerily familiar.” 

You giggle, sitting up as much as you can without your head whacking the roof of the car. 

“Oh, this?” You tease. You grasp the car seat beside Poe’s head. You roll your body, approximating the moves from his act. He hums, leaning back and tucking his arms behind his head. Your gaze greedily travels the swell of his biceps in the short sleeves of his rain-soaked shirt. 

“Mhm,” He hums, subtly pushing his hips up against yours. You reach down, beginning to draw your shirt up and off, but he tuts softly. 

“Slower,” He murmurs. Your body goes hot from the order, but you do as he says, slowly peeling your shirt up and off. You drop it into the backseat foot well before you bow over him again, grinding back against the growing bulge in his pants. Poe loops his arm around you, making short work of your bra’s fastening. It’s the next thing to go as you toss it onto the seat beside you. 

Poe leans up, brushing his lips over your breast before delicately stroking and sucking one of your nipples. You hiss softly, winding your hand into his hair and savoring the teasing flicks and laps. You snake a hand between the two of you, palming his cock through his pants. Poe moans into your skin, smoothing his hand down your bare belly and slipping it beneath the band of your leggings. You gasp as his fingers press against the damp fabric of your panties, your hips pushing down into his touch. He lets your flesh slip from his lips as he tips his head up nuzzling against your jaw. 

“Fuck, that’s all for me, isn’t it, sweetheart,” He groans. You nod, squeezing your eyes shut as you grind your hips down into his touch. 

“Can I touch you?” He presses, “Can I play with your pretty pussy?” 

“Fuck, please, please,” You beg, touch stuttering as he pushes the seat of your panties aside, swiping the pads of his finger across your soaked folds. He groans roughly, his cock pulsing beneath you. You turn your head, catching Poe’s lips with yours and nipping at his lip. The two of you begin to rock in sync, hips rolling into each other’s touch. Your breasts rub against the almost course texture of his wet t-shirt, sending trickles of pleasure through your body. It’s embarrassing, but you’re so goddamn wound up—

“Poe,” You warn softly, “I don’t—Fuck, I’m close.” 

Poe curses against your skin, sawing his hips up into your hand more harshly as the swipes against your clit become more and more insistent. The movement makes your sensitive nipples rub more harshly against his shirt, bringing you closer to the edge. You can feel the car rocking with your joint thrusts as the two of you chase your pleasure. You use the back of the chair as leverage to grind more firmly into his hand. You can feel him watching you closely, but you can’t bring yourself to feel embarrassed, not when you’re right on the edge—

Your orgasm washes over you slowly, your moans unabashedly loud in the car, and mingling with his as you feel his cock twitching beneath your hand, warmth spreading beneath your palm. The two of you slowly come to a stop, each gently slipping your hands away from one another. Poe wraps his arms around you, drawing you back down on top of him and resting his hand on your nape. You cuddle against him, as you trade lazy, syrupy kisses. You close your eyes as they break, resting your face against his neck. 

“...What time do you have to go back in there?” You mumble. 

“In a bit.” 

“Okay.” 

“Can I see you later?” 

You smile, trailing a finger along his chest. 

“At the club?” 

“I can’t do the things I wanna do to you at the club. Not without losing my job, anyway.” 

You tip your head up, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. 

“My place or yours?” 

“Either. I’m fine with the car again, too.” 

“I’m not sure that’s the best idea.” 

The sudden knocking on your window startles you, and you burrow closer to Poe’s chest and he tightens his grip on you. 

“Ten minutes,” A warning comes through the window. Poe sighs heavily, dropping his head against the rest once the man has retreated. 

“Ben,” He grumbles. “Dick.” 

“I should, uh,” You look at the partially-fogged windows warily. “I should let you get back to work.” 

“Whose place later?” Poe presses. “I should warn you, I have roommates.” 

“I don’t.” 

“Your place it is.” 

You smile, tugging your bra on before reaching for your shirt…Which is still soaking wet and covered in bits of schmutz from the foot well. Well that's gross. When was the last time you vacumed your car? 

“Here.” 

Before you have a chance to argue, Poe is pulling his shirt off and helping you into it. 

“But—What’ll you leave in?” 

“I’ve got extra clothes inside, don’t worry about it.” 

Poe gently levers the seat back into a seated position before reaching into his pocket, drawing his phone out. You watch him open it, smiling against the picture of the corgi. 

“Cute dog,” You comment.

“That’s Bee-Bee. He’s my baby.” 

You take his phone as he holds it out to you, typing in your contact, then sending a text to yourself. You turn the phone toward him again, waiting just a few seconds before your phone goes off with the message. “Text me when you’re done tonight.” 

“It'll be late.”

“I don’t mind.”

Poe reaches up, cupping your cheek and drawing you down for another kiss. You sink into him, sliding your hands covetously over his chest and arms. Oh…You can’t make him late. 

“Don’t you,” You mumble between kisses, “Have somewhere to be?” 

“Ben said ‘ten minutes’ like two minute ago,” Poe argues, hand sneaking up under your shirt. “We’ve got time.” 

“Seven minutes?” 

“Eight-ish.”

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @recklessworry ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ; @lorecraft ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @phoenixhalliwell ; @wild-rose-35 ; @daisyslibrary ; @informally-liz ; @andrastesflamingtitties ; @muchacha-encabronada ; @nerdygirl0414 ; @elen-aranel ; @ohbee-whatcanyoube ; @kmc1989 ; @quietpainter ; @thedreadandthefugitivemind ; @kaletastrophes ; @nyx2021

[biggestsimponhere]

Star wars men you will always be famous, i’m in love with them.

[eyelessfaces]

hell yeah

[aspitefulwriter]

OUT OF TOUCH [Ch. 5]

(Poe Dameron x AFAB!reader)

warnings: mentions of someone getting verbally assaulted and beat (not reader); also a man in his sassy era

author’s note: I post on ao3 first!! :)

MINORS FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, DON’T INTERACT

word count: ~2.7k

Series Masterlist

It had been a day or so past the incident where you had assaulted Poe, and it was just within the past few hours that you could actually look him in the eyes while either of you talked. The entire aftermath had been horrifying for you thus far, and if you think about it for too long, you cringe. To occupy yourself, you asked if it was possible to get your hands on a decommissioned ship and tinker around with it. When the request was approved, you felt joy you hadn’t felt since escaping from the Order. You didn’t want to complain, but it was hard to be happy when the same nightmare woke you up every night.

Which is why you’re now crouching on the floor of the hanger, situated under a wing, and trying your hardest to do something to it. It’s been a few hours since you first got it, and it was getting to the point where the thought of quitting replaced any other thought in your mind given nothing was budging. Maybe they did this intentionally.

As your wrench slips off of the bolt again, you let out a groan. Your mood is only exacerbated when you hear footsteps fall behind you, and you close your eyes in waiting to hear whatever he is going to say.

Poe snickers, “You know, it would probably be easier to take the entire thing apart compared to whatever you’re trying to do.”

You shoot a glare behind your shoulder to your newly appointed guard and find a grin beginning to lift the corners of his mouth. With a small shake of your head, you go back to your attempt at getting this bolt out. To at least have one success today.

“I guess I’ve been thinking wrong about your role with the Resistance. All this time, I thought you were just a glorified lap dog, but apparently, you’re a droid as well.” The wrench slips off of the bolt again and you let your arm weakly fall to your side as you rub your temple with your free one.

There’s a silence filled with the sounds of the hanger before Poe responds, “I know you probably think that’s an insult, but droids are super useful.”

A small laugh escapes you and you take the rejuvenation as a chance to continue trying to take out a bolt, but the wrench still won’t catch its curves. Throughout your entire time sitting next to this machine, you’ve done nothing but move to different sections with each failed attempt at even taking it apart. You take the hint with a sigh, deciding to call it quits. With a grumble, you toss the wrench down and slide a hand down your face in exasperation.

“And you know, that’s what I’ve been trying to do, but all of these stupid bolts are practically stripped.” You turn your head to where he’s standing behind you, cooly sipping the caf he just came back with. After a moment of just watching you, he takes another sip while walking, then crouches next to you to get a better look. He hums after appraising it and stands back up.

“Yeah, they’re definitely stripped all right. I would help, but I don’t have the upgrades yet to take those kinds of bolts out.” He lifts his hands and makes a turning motion starting with his wrists, mimicking a droid. You roll your eyes. 

“I could go get a buddy of mine for a price.” A smile begins to lift the corners of his lips, with you fighting the one on your own that wants to match his. It physically pained you that you were on the cusp of giving him the satisfaction of laughing at his behavior again, but you cave, your face getting warm with the effort of holding it in.

You let out an airy chuckle, “I’m afraid the only thing I have to offer here is a cup of caf. Other than that, you’re out of luck.”

“Then I’m in luck because I was just starting to run out.” He shakes his cup so you can hear its nearly empty sloshing. 

You stand up from your crouch to be closer to his height than you were and motion to the cup, “Didn’t you just come back with that?”

He shrugs, “...So, do you want me to get BB?”

You shake your head, “No, this thing is out of commission anyway. I was just using this to give me something to do.” Poe’s eyebrows begin to pull together and he opens his mouth as if he wants to talk, but nothing comes out.

“Actually…this is one of our backup fighters.” Your mouth falls open slightly in disbelief. There’s no way this hunk of junk has any chance of going up against a First Order fighter. 

“You’re lying–” You cross your arms across your chest, “I specifically asked for a decommissioned ship. Why would you guys give me a backup fighter?” 

“Maybe people are starting to trust you,” he shrugs again and takes another sip from his cup.

You point back at B-wing that has rust flaking off of it with every breath of a breeze that comes into the hangar. “That thing is hardly near the condition to be put into battle. It’s basically a death trap.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s a death trap, necessarily.” He hands you his now-empty cup, which you take without questioning, and lifts himself to get into the cockpit. “Look.” He says, but now you start to question his decisions.

“Wha–Poe…” You step closer to him, your head now at where his feet are dangling as he shimmies in.  

You gawk at him, “That is definitely not safe. Get down.”

He shoots you an amused look when he’s seated, “You said I sounded like a droid and now here you are sounding like a mother.” You purse your lips in aggravation. The nerve of this guy. B-wings aren’t something to play with.

“Someone clearly needs the influence if they’re attempting to fly a machine of certain death.” 

He laughs and playfully rolls his eyes, “You know, you’re pretty funny. Maybe not as funny as me, but you’re up there.” Your eyebrows pull together, and you try to get a response, but he’s lifted into the air before you’re able to.

At the sound of the engine struggling to start, you take a few paces back on the off-chance the engine explodes and you wince at the noises it lets out once it comes alive. 

Out of nowhere, someone steps in front of the fighter to direct him out and you mumble expletives under your breath. He’s going to get himself killed. With a sigh, you run over to the person, shouting, “Hey! What are you doing? This thing isn’t cleared for take-off!”

“It is if I’m standing in front of it. I’m only here because it was cleared.” She continues to direct Poe with the sticks in her hands, backing up slowly. You step away too and throw the cockpit a look of utter confusion as Poe just waves at you. In return, you twirl your index finger by your forehead mouthing ‘You’re crazy.’

He laughs, pumping his fist excitedly. You stand there until he’s out of the hangar completely, making enough space for when he decides to take off, which he quickly does–a plume of white smoke following him. You stare up at the sky as he recklessly does tricks and flips, the rest of the people outside also stopping what they’re doing to watch him. You look around at all of the people you know are stroking his ego and you shake your head. With a sharp turn, you walk back into the hangar and throw the cup you’ve been holding into the trash before walking back to your room.

-----

Little time passes before you hear the door to your room open, and you look from your point on the bed to the strutting man who walks in with shameless confidence. With an unamused grunt, you turn your attention back to the holopad and the manual pulled up for the B-wing starfighter.

“Did you have fun?” You don’t spare a glance at him as he sits down next to your legs.

“Proving you wrong? Absolutely.” You give him a quick unimpressed look before going back to your reading material. 

He leans in a little, not being able to help himself from being nosey. “What are you reading?” 

“I’m just further cementing the idea that what you did was reckless and dangerous and the people here need to stop enabling you.”

He laughs, “If everyone were to do that, they’d lose the best pilot in the galaxy.”

Your eyebrows pull together and put your attention on him, “Is that what you call yourself?”

He leans away from you and it looks as if he puffs out his chest before he responds, “It’s what I’m known for.”

You give an amused huff, drawing your eyes back to the pad, “Clearly must be the reason why I had never heard of you and your tricks before I switched sides.”

“Ouch.” He fake winces and grips the middle of his chest, the fabric of his shirt wrinkling in his hand. Seeing he didn’t get your attention, he releases his chest and leans down to where his elbows rest on his knees. A comfortable silence stills between you, the only other sound heard being the two of your breathing and the slide of your finger up the holopad as you scroll.

Just as you’re beginning to melt into your bed since Poe’s arrival, he ruins the silence with his agitating, grating voice. “I wasn’t done with that caf, by the way.”

You drop the holopad to your chest, the clap of it hitting your chest echoing the walls. “It was empty.”

He hums, “I could’ve kept using it.”

You tsk and roll to your side, facing the wall and pulling up the manual again. Unbeknownst to you, Poe’s eyes trail to the exposed skin from where your shirt is pulled against your mattress, a deep need filling his body to just touch it and slide his hands up and down your back. He wanted to know what it felt like as he held you, to rest his head in the place where your neck meets your shoulder…know what sound you would give him if he licked there. The twitch of his cock interrupts his thoughts and he stands up with a harsh cough. You look over your shoulder with concern, “Are you okay?”

“My throat’s a little dry with the reminder you threw my cup away. I’m gonna go grab something.” He goes to leave in a hurry to hide his quickly wakening problem. 

“General Leia made a poor choice to have you as my guard. You don't do it very well,” you say, a hint of disapproval in your voice.

“I didn’t ask for this position,” he snaps, so you can either join me or shut up.” At his words, he can hear the rustle of your sheets as you turn, and he can only imagine the look you’re giving him right now. If he wasn’t overstimulated at the prospect of you finding his dick hard, he’d probably laugh.

“Okay, fine…Maker.” He takes a quick glance at you as you slide up into a sitting position to grab your shoes at the end of the bed and put one on. “I guess it’ll be my job to save yours,” you grumble.

As you put on the other one, he looks away from you and subtly tucks his issue under his waistband, hoping you’re still fooling with your shoes. Gliding a hand down his middle and past his waistline, he tries to check to see if anything is visible. He releases a low sigh of relief at his check, and the huge weight of anxiety leaves his body when he looks back at you and sees you’re just now standing up, mumbling under your breath as you glare at the floor.

As expected, you shoot him the same glare you just killed the floor with and he receives it with a smile. Your eyes flit across his face, perplexed at his sudden mood change. 

“You give me whiplash,” you say with a tone of irritation, walking past him and out of the door. He quickly follows, the sound of the set of your feet hitting the floor echoes in the hall of the base as he smiles to himself. There are only a few paces done before he responds.

“The feeling’s mutual, sweetheart,” he rubs at the places where your hands connected to his chest a few days ago, “I can still feel the whiplash you gave me right here.” With the last sentence, he decides that instead of rubbing at the spots, he should point at them with his index fingers and make a sort of puppy frown face as he does so. You take a look at him from the corner of your eye and shake your head.

“Don’t remind me,” you briefly close your eyes to will the memory of the interaction away. You couldn’t believe he gave you the option to stay in your room and still decided to go with him anyway. As if to dig into the ever-growing wound, he doesn’t let up.

He gives a dry laugh and claps both of his hands on your shoulders, lightly shaking you as the two of you walk, “Trust me, I’m never letting you live that down.”

You reciprocate his laugh in a more mocking manner and slide his hands off of your shoulders, “I never expected you to. That would require you to be a little more mature.”

He’s silent for a moment. 

“To be fair, you’re not the first one to have shoved me based on a rumor, so maybe I should just add you to my story list and call a truce.” You nod while he pauses, “But that wouldn’t be fun. It brightens my day to see Miss Former Commander embarrassed.” He grins as he waits for your response while staring at your face.

You only look at him blankly before you go back to looking straight ahead.

He sighs dramatically, “Okay, okay, I get the point. I’ll leave it for another day.” Silence hangs between the two of you momentarily before he breaks it, “Sorry for snapping at you, there’s…not really an excuse for it...” He trails off and rubs the nape of his neck while looking at the floor.

The two of you get to the doors of the cafeteria and you face him, “Water under the bridge. It’s pretty mild compared to the things I’m used to.” You offer a light smile to show him that you’re okay, especially his apology bandage helping heal the horror. He reciprocates your smile and gives a single nod. The two of you stare at each other, the break in the conversation making you slightly awkward before you hear a crowd shouting in the caf. Your smiles turn into concern just as you trigger the doors.

When they open, your attention is immediately drawn to a crowd that is situated in the middle of the room, three people being surrounded by it as several encourage whatever is happening. You tsk and relax, your thoughts of something more serious going on puffing out of existence. 

There’s either an arm wrestle or some kind of food-related bet going on, you think. As you both walk towards the commotion, it becomes more evident that a fight is happening rather than a tame bet, the sounds of flesh meeting flesh and a lone groan coming from the middle of the crowd.

You and Poe exchange a concerned look again and the two of you push through the crowd. The people you shove past hurl nasty insults to whoever is being attacked; some along the lines of ‘You don’t belong here,’ ‘You’re going to get everyone here killed,’ ‘You’re a waste of resources.’ As you hear each one, you bristle more and more as you know exactly who such kinds of insults would be used against. When you break past the last line of people surrounding the three, your fears are confirmed.

Denel is being attacked.

[bellsyapping]

Star Wars Fic Recs

ill update this on the way

Beskar Doll : JustAGalWhoWrites on ao3 and tumblr

Rough Day : guardiananglecas on ao3

The Bet : guardianangelcas on ao3

[flightlessangelwings]

Being inclusive with your reader insert fic is a kindness. It tells people of color (poc) that you are considering someone who does not look like you in your fic. It shows love and dedication to our craft. It tells poc that they belong here too and they can see themselves in your story.

Poc aren’t look for activism in fic, we know fandom isn’t that serious, but we should be able to have that same level of escapism when we turn to fic and fandom. We belong here too. This space is for everyone, not just one group of people.

Just to give a few examples of how simple it can be: say “skin warmed” instead of blushed, say “cradled your head” instead of running fingers through hair, say “angles yourself to kiss” instead of standing on tiptoes, use italics to indicate Spanish to take out a throwaway line of “you didn’t understand Spanish” things like that. Small changes that do not impact the fic at all but make a world of difference in inclusivity!

And for anything you can’t/don’t want to change, simply add warning in the beginning. Things like hair descriptors, anything reader might wear, some backstory for reader (especially involving family or where the story is set), readers job, things like that. A lot of times just having that heads up before the fic makes a world of difference!

And one example of kindness we as writers always worked to change: until recently (just a couple years ago) it wasn’t common to label the gender of the reader. But those who aren’t female asked writers to label it so they know which to read and which to avoid, and now it’s common to label the gender/pronouns of the reader. So it is possible! It just takes effort! And I’m a writer myself so I know it can be done!

We can pretend to be a bartender or a bounty hunter or an actress or anything else. But we shouldn’t have to imagine we’re a white one.