Words:1148 Pairing: Poe Dameron x Gender Neutral!Reader Summary:Reader is Poe Dameron’s significant other with a pension for scheming. This time the Commander has come upon his partner surrounded by unidentifiable parts and bright buckets of paint. One thing is for sure, Reader always keeps him on his toes.
“What are you doing, Captain?” You looked over your shoulder to see the newly minted Commander Poe Dameron walking towards you. You looked away from him to focus on the on your current project.
Poe took in the scene he’d walked upon. You were sitting cross-legged on the floor surrounded by a semi-circle of open paint jars. They were colors the resistance, and probably most of the galaxy, hadn’t seen in years. One jar of pale pink, a brilliant magenta, a bright green and a dark grassy tone were each sitting with a brush balanced precariously atop them. A smaller container of black was held in one of your hands its companion brush hanging lazily out of your mouth. Littering the floor along with your painting supplies were several tools. This included a sonic screwdriver that he remembered lending to Rey.
“Are you going to make me ask you again?” Poe sighed.
“WhatdoesitlooklikeImdoing?” You questioned with the paintbrush still in your mouth. He could write you up for insubordination. You supposed being the highest-ranking being at the outpost gave him that right. He’d even gone as far as threatening to do it once or twice since becoming general, But Poe never stayed mad at you. At least not usually.
“Come again?” He asked, making a great show of leaning in to hear you. Rolling your eyes, you took the paint brush out of your mouth.
“I said What does it look like I’m doing?” You gestured at the heap of scraps in front of you. Poe could tell you were building something, but he couldn’t make heads or tails of what it was meant to be.
“Making a mess on the only freighter ship I have access to on world.” He said, bringing a hand up to massage his forehead.
“I cleared it with Rey beforehand. She said I can use the Falconfor as long as I need.” You explained. “I wouldn’t just take over the lounge area of her ship without asking.”
“No one asked me if it was okay!” Poe argued. “What if I needed Rey and Chewy to take the Falconto get supplies?”
“Do you need Rey and Chewy to get supplies?”It seemed he wasn’t going to be going away any time soon, so you put down the pot of paint in your hand and your brush on top of it.
“No, but…”
Poe, she’s a Pre-Empire freighter.” You interrupted him.“TheFalcontakes so long to get started up I would have plenty of time to put my supplies away before Rey and Chewy needed to take off.”
“What are you building anyway?” He scrutinized the pile of parts, tools and paint.
“I’m glad you asked! I’m building a friend for Baby.” Baby was your nickname for Poe’s personal atromech. It has started when you told him he looked after the droid as if he were his own child.
“BB-8 doesn’t need a friend. He has me.” Poe disagreed.
“Okay, then I’m building a friend for me.” You shrugged.
“All of this, is going to turn into a droid?” He gestured at the all-around chaos you’d left in your wake.
“Well, she’s going to be small. Have you ever seen a BD droid?” You began sealing up your paints and trying to clean your work area. It was getting close to dinner time.
“A BD? How in the world did you find a BD droid on this planet?” He wanted to know.
“Well, I didn’t exactly find it here…but I didn’t spend any of our credits either.” You rushed to assure him. “See I told Rey I wanted a droid of my own and she asked Chewbacca how one goes about getting a droid on this planet and he mentioned the Jawas and…”
“Jawas?!” Poe’s eyes widened and his brows shot towards the ceiling.
“Let me finish!” You hissed impatiently. “So Chewy remembered that he and Han had a whole hanger of unused parts at Maz’s place. He sent her a holo and she was able to ship a few crates of stuff over. Rey translated to the Jawas for us and got me all the parts I needed. All I have to do is help her and Chewy re-run the hydraulic fuel line for the lifts. I get some workspace and a droid, the Falcongets updated hydraulics.”
“Uh-huh, and did the Jawas have five buckets of paint available too?” His face had rearranged from incredulous to amused.
“Okay, that I did have to order with credits, but I promise every cent of it was my own. I wanted her to stand out.” You explained. “I’m painting her the colors of this fruit we used to have on my home planet. I really only ever ate them in the summer, but I always loved the colors. A hard green rind on the outside with a white to red gradient inside. They didn’t have an overwhelming flavor but they were so watery and juicy!”
“So what are you going to call this little melon droid?” He crouched down to inspect the pieces you’d painted. It looked like you’d nearly finished before he interrupted you.
“Haven’t thought of a nickname yet. The first part of her serial number is BD-4, which I like because it’s half of eight, and she’ll be half the size of BB-8. Like a lil’ sister. Plus, my partner was born on the fourth moon of Yavin.” You kissed Poe on the cheek. “Anyway, I think having Four around will be good. Not only will it give Baby someone to talk to in his own language, but Four will be full of useful tools. I mean she’ll have the standard scomp link and holoprojector, but BDs were designed to aid researchers and explorers. She’ll have grippy little feet that’ll make walking on all sorts of terrain easy. I’ve even seen people use BDs for ziplining or attaching weapons to them!”
“Droids don’t need to have weapons.” Poe laughed.
“I think Artoo would disagree.” You told him.
“Fine!” Poe conceded. “You can keep the BD, sorry, Four. But she’s your responsibility! I don’t want to hear you’ve stolen away any of my communications officers to help you program it am I clear?”
“One question, if someone volunteers to help say Finn or Rose, am I allowed to say yes?” You asked.
“I’m just going to assume you’ve already roped them in somehow so fine. No finish cleaning up so we can eat. I’m starving.” He ordered.
“Ooh what are we having for dinner?” You wondered excitedly.
“Something fast and from a food synthesizer since my partner has been out bartering with Jawas and painting droid parts all day.” He teased.
“I mean it was this or I upgrade the hyperdrive in your X-Wing.” You shrugged.
“Don’t even think about touching her!” He warned with a smirk.
Author’s Note: Can we normalize the idea of making droids fun colors? Like okay a watermelon colored BD might be ugly but she could be cute!
Pairing: Poe Dameron x fem!Reader, modern!AU (part of the No More Wasted Time universe)
Word Count: 1.5k (ish)
Rating: Teen and up (BLOG IS 18+, THOUGH, MINORS DNI)
Excerpt:“I just feel terrible, Poe,” you say with shuddered breaths. “I haven’t been this sick in so long and all I want… sniff… is… is…”“Is for someone to take care of you,” he finishes for you, planting a kiss on your sweaty head. You nod into his chest and let him hold you a little while longer while the tears subside. Your eyes grow heavy again and you sway a bit on your feet.
Warnings: Brief descriptions of reader being sick, fluff, EMOTIONS
Summary: When you get sick, Poe immediately jumps into action taking care of you.
A/N: Found a prompt from this wonderful prompt list and thought it was time for a certain moment to be shared between these two. The prompt was Damn, you’re burning up. Thank you, as always, for @creatively-analytical for giving this a look over and beta reading for me, I LOVE YOU.
Cursing every god you could think of, you reach up to flush the toilet you’d been hugging for the last 10 minutes. The early morning light seeps through the gossamer curtains over the small bathroom window, a breeze causing them to sway along the sill. You lean against the wall and tip your head back, sweat sliding down your neck and body shaking. Damn co-workers, coming to work sick and spreading it around…
You start to drowse, your stomach calm enough now to actually relax. The breeze dries the sweat from your body and your breathing begins to even out when…
Knock knock knock
The sudden rapping on your door startles you and you jerk awake, stomach once again beginning to roll with the movement. You shakily stand, opening the bathroom door and stumbling to the front door before peeking through the spy hole.
“Poe?” Your voice is haggard, throat raw from being sick.
Pairing: Poe Dameron x fem!Reader, modern!AU (part of the No More Wasted Time universe)
Word Count: 1.5k (ish)
Rating: Teen and up (BLOG IS 18+, THOUGH, MINORS DNI)
Excerpt:“I just feel terrible, Poe,” you say with shuddered breaths. “I haven’t been this sick in so long and all I want… sniff… is… is…”“Is for someone to take care of you,” he finishes for you, planting a kiss on your sweaty head. You nod into his chest and let him hold you a little while longer while the tears subside. Your eyes grow heavy again and you sway a bit on your feet.
Warnings: Brief descriptions of reader being sick, fluff, EMOTIONS
Summary: When you get sick, Poe immediately jumps into action taking care of you.
A/N: Found a prompt from this wonderful prompt list and thought it was time for a certain moment to be shared between these two. The prompt was Damn, you’re burning up. Thank you, as always, for @creatively-analytical for giving this a look over and beta reading for me, I LOVE YOU.
Cursing every god you could think of, you reach up to flush the toilet you’d been hugging for the last 10 minutes. The early morning light seeps through the gossamer curtains over the small bathroom window, a breeze causing them to sway along the sill. You lean against the wall and tip your head back, sweat sliding down your neck and body shaking. Damn co-workers, coming to work sick and spreading it around…
You start to drowse, your stomach calm enough now to actually relax. The breeze dries the sweat from your body and your breathing begins to even out when…
Knock knock knock
The sudden rapping on your door startles you and you jerk awake, stomach once again beginning to roll with the movement. You shakily stand, opening the bathroom door and stumbling to the front door before peeking through the spy hole.
“Poe?” Your voice is haggard, throat raw from being sick.
“Baby? Everything okay?”
“Poe I’m so sick, you should go. I don’t want to give you this.”
“Hey let me in, you sound terrible.”
You step back from the door, unlocking it and opening it just an inch to peek through at him. Red basketball shorts cover his legs, a white hoodie over top, curls unruly and eyes suddenly filled with worry. “I feel terrible, you definitely don’t want what I have.”
He gently pushes against the door and you give in. The urge to keep him from getting this flu is overpowered by the desperate need to be held, to be taken care of. He steps in and closes the door behind him and takes you in.
Your hair is plastered to your face and neck and you’re shivering now. You had torn off your layers once the fever had kicked in, too hot to be covered up, but now that the sweat was evaporating from your skin it was suddenly freezing. Without meaning to, you wrap your arms around your body and start to sniffle. Tears line your eyes.
“Baby, baby what’s up?” Poe asks gently, taking off his hoodie and pulling it over your head. You push your arms into the sleeves, the hem brushing your thighs and completely covering your sleep shorts. More tears start to flow as he pulls you into a hug.
“I just feel terrible, Poe,” you say with shuddered breaths. “I haven’t been this sick in so long and all I want… sniff… is… is…”
“Is for someone to take care of you,” he finishes for you, planting a kiss on your sweaty head. You nod into his chest and let him hold you a little while longer while the tears subside. Your eyes grow heavy again and you sway a bit on your feet.
“Oookay, let’s get you into bed.” Without warning, Poe sweeps you up into his arms and walks you back into your room, laying you gently on the bed. He reaches up to sweep the hair from your face. “Damn, you’re burning up. Have you taken anything?”
You shake your head no, burrowing into the pillows and blankets. “Been having a hard time keeping things down.”
“I’m going to the store to get you some stuff. Stay here, I’ll be right back.”
“Not really a lot of places I can go…” You mumble, eyes closed.
A soft chuckle comes from next to you. Poe kisses your forehead before saying, “That’s my girl.”
You’re asleep before he leaves.
- - - - - -
When you wake up, Poe is sitting next to you on the bed. Glasses are perched on his nose and he has a book in his hand. You watch him read, his eyebrows slightly furrowed and a muscle in his jaw flutters.
“You’re cute when you read.”
His eyes flick to you over his glasses, a small smile lifting the corners of his lips. “There she is. How are you feeling?”
“I’m alright, I think…” you start, rolling onto your back. You immediately regret the movement as your stomach churns. “Ope, not alright.”
You bolt up, aiming for the bathroom. You make it to the toilet but aren’t able to shut the door before retching, acid burning its way up your throat. You heave again. You feel a hand begin gently rubbing your back, Poe’s presence a warming anchor.
“I don’t want you seeing this, Poe,” you manage to pant before retching again.
“Shhh, it’s okay.” He reassures you, hand never stopping its calming circles. “I’ve seen worse.” He begins humming a familiar song to comfort you as coughs wrack through your body. A simple tune, bringing memories of dingy karaoke bars and hushed patio conversations…
I feel wonderful because I see the love light in your eyes
Then the wonder of it all is that you just don’t realize
How much I love you…
After a minute you feel confident that this episode is over and flush the toilet. Poe leaves for a moment before returning with a cool, damp washcloth. He wipes your forehead before laying it across the back of your neck.
“Sprite or ginger ale?” He asks.
“Ginger ale.” Your eyes close again as your body vibrates.
“I’m on it.”
You hear him shuffle to the small kitchen. He opens the freezer, ice clanking into a glass. The fizz of a bottle opening reaches your ears. He pours the soda into the glass and comes back to you, sitting on the floor beside you.
“Try and drink just a little bit.”
You open your eyes and reach for the glass. A silly straw sticks out from the top and he gives you a little wink. A tired smile sneaks its way across your face before you take a small sip, savoring the cool of the soda down your raw throat and handing the glass back to him.
“I’m so sorry you had to see that.” You tell him, head falling back against the wall. The bubbles in your stomach seem to be working, calming the raging sea to something more manageable.
“Hey, this is what I’m here for,” he says, adjusting the washcloth on your neck. “What else do you need?”
“Help me back to bed?” you ask. He stands, offering his hand and you take it before standing on fawn-like legs. He puts his other arm around your waist and supports your tentative steps back to your bed. Climbing in, he covers you back up and takes the washcloth.
“I’m gonna put your soda on your nightstand and go get you some water. We’re gonna try to take some medicine before you fall back asleep, okay?”
Your stomach lurches again, but doesn’t threaten to do anything else as he goes back to the kitchen to grab a grocery bag. He brings the entire bag back, pulling out various snacks and bottles and lining them up on your nightstand.
“Poe, what is all this?”
He looks at you sheepishly. “Well, I know what works for me when I’m sick but I don’t know what works for you so I had to guess.” There’s Gatorade and Pedialtye, rice cakes and saltines, flu medicine and anti-nauseas; the bar of chocolate catches your eye and makes you laugh.
“Chocolate?”
“That’s for when you feel better.” He grins.
A warm feeling blossoms in your chest, different from the fever raging in your body. Watching him fuss over you, running back and forth to freshen your washcloth or refill the ginger ale you’re slowly drinking, you realize that this man would really do anything for you.
“Poe,” you whisper as he turns to go back to the kitchen to heat up some soup for you.
“Hmm?” He turns to face you, hovering in the doorway separating your room from the living room beyond.
Your voice catches in your throat, heart swelling in your chest and making words difficult. You take a breath…
“I love you.”
He looks at you, frozen in place. After a heartbeat, he closes the space between you in three strides and drops to his knees next to your bed. Joy radiates from him.
“Say it again.”
You take another breath, throat tight with emotion. “I love you.”
He surges up and kisses you, his hand tenderly cupping your jaw. He pulls away and kisses your forehead. Resting his head against yours he responds, “I love you, too.”
With your emotions already high from sickness, the joy filling your chest begins to escape as tears. You laugh, lifting your hands to rest on the sides of his face. “You’re definitely going to get sick now.”
“Absolutely worth it,” he replies, turning his head to kiss the inside of your wrist. He looks back at you and smiles, a smile so blinding the rest of the world becomes shadowed and inconsequential.
You run your thumbs along his cheekbones. “Say it again.” You repeat back to him.
