“You’re not going to like what I have to tell you.”
Those had been Finn’s words the morning after the party.
You had blinked at him from the doorway, fully dressed from the night before and still somewhat drunk. When he had followed up with the news that Poe was gone, you had been naive to think that you would be able to fix things with him once you caught up with him on the mission: that would be your chance to talk about what had happened, to set things straight and decide where you both stood after how things had unfolded the night before.
But that wasn’t going to happen.
You weren’t going on the mission. Poe had reassigned you back to Nic. Maker, it wasridiculous. The smallest misunderstanding, a drunken kiss, and Poe had run away instead of talking it through. He clearly wanted to put as much physical distance between you as he could, and his answer to that was continuing the mission without you.
If it had stopped there, perhaps you could have accepted it as a rash mistake, an overreaction on his part. If he’d given you the chance, you would have told him that he was blowing this out of proportion and allowing it to snowball. You could have returned things to the careful equilibrium that had taken years to cultivate. But it didn’t stop there. Poe avoided any attempts you made at contacting him: no comms, no holocalls, nothing.
For the first time since your friendship had begun, Poe Dameron was at his furthest point from you; he was at aphelion.
Pairing: General Poe Dameron x Female reader Rating: mature Word count: 5.5k Warnings: mentions of food, alcohol, drunken shenanigans, mutual pining, yearning, mentions of past relationships, mentions of sex, language, clowns trying not to be in love with each other, poe dameron kisses.
The night air isn’t cold or unwelcome as it caresses your exposed skin from where you stand on the balcony: it brings a freshness and the most delightful fragrance of exotic flowers that scatter across the stretch of land before you. It’s beautiful here—not just the scenery, no. It’s more than that: the people, the atmosphere. You have only been on the planet for hours, but the people greeted you as though you had spent a lifetime here.
By now, the celebrations are underway. Dinner was a remarkable display of the finest foods, sourced from many different planets to showcase how the decadent flavours work so well with the food grown in the gardens of the palace. You sat between Finn and Poe, talking away comfortably as though you were accustomed to being a guest at such an elegant affair, but as dinner began to wind down and they got pulled into more serious conversations, you were suddenly reminded that you are completely out of your element.
Despite your vast knowledge and understanding of politics, you don’t hold a high ranking title, so you’re an outsider to this kind of life. You have always gone above and beyond to prove yourself, to earn yourself respect and promotions in hopes of rising through the ranks, but it never happened.
Maybe if the war with the First Order hadn’t overshadowed everything, things would be different. But after Leia had gone, Poe never chose to promote you; there was always someone else who fit the post better, who was slightly more qualified. He always chalked it up to timing or specialty or seniority. He’d say that you were so perfectly suited for a mission that he couldn’t possibly move you yet. There was always a reason.
Through it all, some small part of you wondered if he didn’t want to promote you so he could retain control over the missions you went on and in turn, limit your time away from each other.
Pairing: General Poe Dameron x Female reader Rating:Mature Word count: 8k Warnings: mutual pining, yearning, mentions of death, mentions of past relationships, mentions of sex, language, clowns trying not to be in love with each other. A/N:The reader in this fic has the nickname ‘Stitch’ which was given to her to Poe. The name will make so much more sense when the backstory arrives… And it has no connection to that Disney character. This is a repost of the original chapter because Tumblr decided to refuse to put it in the tags. Apologies for the amount of times you’ve seen this on your dash today!
Your boots pound over the uneven terrain of Ajan Kloss as you trudge your way towards one of the newly built rooms on the base. You’re heading in the opposite direction of the ship that you are supposed to be leaving on, and with each step you take, your teeth press tighter together: the expression on your face matches the thunderous stomps of your feet. You’re already suited and booted for take-off, and you know what this is about—you know exactly what’s coming, and you carry the tension heavily in your jaw. This isn’t the first time this has happened, and you know for a fact that it isn’t going to be the last. By now, you should expect it. Yet, somehow, it still enrages you as you turn the next corner.
The walk is supposed to calm you down, but it doesn’t. Your fingers clench themselves into fists at your sides the more you think about it, and when you finally reach the door, you pause, taking a few slow breaths of the humid, jungle air.
How dare he? How fucking dare he?
Because he’s the General. That’s how. And even when you don’t agree with his decisions, you have no choice but to respect them.
Leia would never have done this without good reason.
You know that it’s unfair to compare them, as many others do, but it comes so naturally in moments like this. The familiar ache hangs in your chest, a lingering reminder of someone that could never be replaced. Leia Organa had led with such strength and compassion: she always seemed to know what to do and carried all of her decisions with an air of grace that made leading look so easy. But she had also led with fairness and, despite everything that came out of Poe Dameron’s mouth to make it sound as though he was trying to follow in her footsteps, his actions sometimes said otherwise.
Drawing in your final, calming breath, you let it out slowly and unclench your hands so that you can key in the code for the door and listen to it hiss open.
None of these are written by me!Please go and check out all of their pages, because I follow them all and they’re amazing! Also I update this everyday so if you enjoy them be sure to check up regularly.
(Spoiler alert they’re mostly angst cos angst is my druggggggg.)
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.
