Warnings: *looks you dead in the eyes* Bitch if you only knew how long this has been in my drafts. Nearly two thousand words of cunnilingus, piv, one tickle fight, alien alcohol consumption, mixed metaphors, and the projection of sexual/emotional desires onto the best pilot in the resistance 18+ ONLY.
Summary: Idiots in love. You’re the idiot, mainly. You happen to hear something quite salacious about your bestie. And oooh boy, are you awful at keeping your shit together.
Word Count: 15.7K
There are some things you can’t unhear. Tidbits of information that just fuck your whole day up with the implications. Specific ideas or mental images, solicited or not, that take form in your brain and proceed to run through your mind like a fathier on a racetrack. Oh Maker, you wish you could unhear this conversation. Because you know, you knowafter hearing all that… you’ll never be able to look at Poe Dameron the same way again. At least not for a long, longtime.
You didn’t mean to eavesdrop. You really didn’t. You were in the stall peeing, minding your own business for Maker’s sake and they just happened to come in and have this conversation. This was on them, not on you. What were you supposed to do? Cover your ears and hum to yourself? Bolt out of the toilet without washing your hands?
You were just having a normal, routine, piss in the cantina bathroom- spotchka going right through you, as per usual… and that’s when you heard them. Maker, you wish you’d never heard them.
“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.
AN: The prologue is here! It’s basically just a little teaser to ease you into the story and provide some background knowledge, before I can dive fully into it. Enjoy!
word count: ~ 1.7k
summary: You get teased about your relationship with Poe and Din and reminisce about how you met them.
You don’t remember arriving at the staff entrance or going through check-in and wardrobe. Yet there you were standing in the kitchen. However, looking at your much too modern clothing and the backpack in your hands, you realised that you must have skipped the last part.
Quickly you kicked your sneakers into the oblivion called ‘under the kitchen sink’ while simultaneously struggling to take off your jeans and put on your work outfit. Your backpack landed unceremoniously under the kitchen island. You will have to visit your locker during your break to stow it away. And to freshen up a bit. Right now, you were late and looked like a mess. Thank god you were the only one working during the early shift. Customer traffic only picked up during early midday. Maybe you could sell it as a deliberate choice and explain to the children that some mean Tusken Raiders had come by and tried to rob the coffee shop. It was worth a try.
The radio in the kitchen corner crackled alive, and you heard the familiar gong signalling five minutes till opening. Five minutes until another day full of “Hello and welcome to the Sorgan Common House, what can I get you?” began. You could do it.
You were wringing out some rags in the sink behind the counter, having used them to clean up some spilt spotchka off a table earlier when you heard them come in.
It wasn’t uncommon for your co-workers or other staff members to swing by for a coffee or tea. The coffee shop was affectionately called 'Sorrow Come-on Out’ by the crew, as it was situated right at the entrance to the staff buildings, making it an easy stop for everybody that was either arriving or leaving for the day. You’ve been a shoulder to cry or lean on or a listening ear for almost everybody in your short time working at the theme park.
When you looked up, you saw them stepping in, but this didn’t seem to be a social call of the worrying kind. On the contrary, Rey and Finn seemed to be practically glowing while smiling widely at each other.
“How long do you think will it take Finn to finally tell Rey what he has been trying to confess to her for ages?” Omera grabbed the more or less dry rags from your hand and replaced them with clean ones as she passed you.
“Oh. I’m pretty sure they’ll be done reconstructing the Death Star by then, and who knows how long thatwill take. And also,” you say, turning around to face her, “I think something is going on between Poe and Finn. The number of times I’ve seen Finn wear one of his sweaters cannot be counted on my hands anymore.”
“You’ve worn Poe’s infamous jacket.”
“Once!”
“Is that why I see it hanging between our pans and pots?”
Before you were able to reply, you heard Rey’s voice over the noise of the customers, and you whipped around to face them again, leaving Omera to disappear into the kitchen.
“Oh, he’s a ghost, alright. For everything and everyone… with one exception.” Holding up a finger, she wiggled it in front of Finn’s face. You could hear the amusement in her voice, the not-so-hidden ‘Ask me more about it!’.
Of course, Finn obliged her. He always would. “And what would that be?”
“CB.”
Finn snorted. “What the bantha cr-” Seeing your face, he stopped abruptly, looking around for any children and almost walking into one. Clearing his throat, he tried again, “What kind of drug is that?”
You mentally face-palmed yourself.
“The worst kind of them all,” Rey sighed as she reached you at the bar and dramatically draped herself over it to underline her point, “unrequited love.”
Raising his eyebrows, Finn looked at her before he turned to you, mock-whispering: “Wouldn’t that be UR?”
Rey playfully hit his shoulder but grinned nevertheless, happy that he stepped into her trap. “A cutie? Yes, I am! Thanks for noticing!”
It was your turn to snort, almost asking them why they weren’t at their stations on the other side of the park, but you knew they would just ignore you. So you just shook your head and turned around to serve a customer that had arrived in the meantime.
Out of the corners of your eyes, you saw Finn smile at Rey. “Do you just have a plethora of stupid phrases available, or are you actually that fast with coming up with them? Anyways, what’s a CB then?”
“Not what. Who. Them,” she said, pointing at you. “The cute barista.”
You smiled and wished the customer a happy day when a reflection of sunlight just outside the window to your right caught your attention. But when you turned your head, all you could see were children running around the playground, vanishing into or appearing from inside of the huge Razor Crest. Of course, some exasperated parents were also trying to keep up with their offspring. There just wasn’t a sign of the guardian of the playground. It wasn’t a shiny metal armour or helm reflecting the sunlight while he ran after children or picked them up after they stumbled over their little feet and handed them off to their parents. No, the Mandalorian seemed to be absent.
“Look at them. Already dreaming of their Prince Charming.”
“I’m not dreaming.”
“Oh right,” Rey draped herself over the counter again, “you’re yearning.”
Finn just laughed as you half-assedly tried to swat a rag against her leg and hit his bum.
“Don’t worry. We’ll be out of your hair in no time. Wouldn’t want to keep him from flirting with you.”
“He’s not flirting.”
“Yeah, he is full-on trying to make you fall in love with him before he takes off his helmet to reveal his… fangs?”
You and Rey both looked at Finn, and he just shrugged. “Why else would he never take off his helmet?”
“To not break the illusion for the children! He’s the Mandalorian, and Mandalorians always keep their helmet on - This is the way,” both Finn and Rey finish the sentence with you. “And, if you must know, he does take the helmet off. How else would he drink the spotchka I give him?”
Rey’s eyes grew big. “You’ve seen his face?”
“Merely his lips.”
“Are they kissable?”
“Rey!” you and Finn said at the same time.
“What? I am a curious woman! I want to know what the face behind the helmet looks like.”
“And you inquire about his lips?” Finn asks with a jealous undertone.
“If that’s the only thing they’ve ever seen of him, yeah! Does anyone actually know what Din looks like?”
Finn shrugged his shoulders. “Lots of people, I’m sure. Poe should. Aren’t they best friends or something? Didn’t they apply together and then got hired on the spot after Leia, Luke, and Han realised what kind of crowd-pleasers and people magnets they could be? For adults and children alike?”
That was true. You’ve heard something similar from Peli when she came over to talk to you about the gossip she picked up in her little repair shop. According to her, however, something must have happened between them shortly before you had begun working at the coffee shop for them to drift apart. They are still tight, but they’ve been very well-behaved and the stories of the shenanigans the two were up to in past years, especially during the yearly staff retreat, sounded like made-up stories. Man, you were looking forward to finally being a part of a staff excursion this year.
You had met both men on the same day. Poe was first, and then, later on, came Din.
Actually, you had bumped into Poe Dameron three times on the same day in short succession after each meeting. It was your induction day, and you kept running back to the shared staff wardrobe after either forgetting things or taking too much with you. Each time you managed to somehow almost run over Poe until he grabbed you by the elbows and told you to “stick with him out of caution”. His more than yours, as you apparently had the energy of a mudhorn. Since his job at the park was to be a tour guide for guests, you couldn’t have asked for better company. What you didn’t know (and still don’t know) is that he was just leaving for the day, exhausted as hell, but after seeing your face, he couldn’t let the opportunity slip away to get to know you better.
Meeting Din was less hectic, although there were many more people around. It was your first trial shift in the coffee shop, and if one asked him now, he wouldn’t be able to say what came over him that day. Usually, he would have retreated into the shadows of the staff building, leaving the screaming children behind and just enjoying the quietness during his fifteen-minute break. However, on that day, an invisible force (more like his bladder) forced him to enter the coffee shop. He saw you, actually saw you as he realised how lonely and exhausting your shift must have been, even among the many people ordering a coffee, tea or snack. The park was understaffed, and there was nobody to help you out after your initial introduction. Seeing your forced smile, he decided to sit down at the counter, keeping you company and helping you out whenever you needed it.
“Hey,” Omera’s head appeared between the drapes separating the kitchen from the coffee shop counter area, and her call interrupted your thoughts. She turned to Finn and Rey and pointed at her watch, “If you’re not going to stay and pay for something to drink, it would be better if you make yourself scarce. It’s time!”
And just like that - punctual like a swiss clock - the sound of heavy footfall and clinking armour announced his presence.
series summary: You work at a coffee shop (affectionately called Sorrow Come-On Out as you often lend your co-workers a shoulder to cry on or an ear to talk to) that borders right to the children’s playground Razor Crest. The playground is supervised by a knight man in shining armour - The Mandalorian. Or, as you know him, Din Djarin. However, you’ve never actually seen the face behind the mask, as he often visits you during his breaks to relax and talk without taking off his costume to not break the illusion for the children. A face you have had the pleasure to see more often belongs to tour guide Poe Dameron - cocky, daring, flirty, charismatic and “the best staff member of the theme park” (at least when it comes to the adults, children might say otherwise). Then your coffee shop has to go through renovations, and you’re transferred to the other side of the theme park. There you slowly find a new home while missing your old buddies. Although not for long. Poe Dameron always finds a reason to bring his latest guests (and thereby himself) to your shop, and you get a new regular customer - a handsome man with curly hair, deep brown eyes and a patchy beard.
What happens when the two of them not only start fighting for the position of ‘Employee of the Month’ but also for your heart?
Star Wars Sequel Trilogy x The Mandalorian Crossover, Modern!AU, Theme Park!AU, Coffee Shop!AU, Everybody Lives!AU (but not Everybody Is Nice!AU)
current total word count: ~ 1.7k
warnings: explicit language, swearing, mentions of sex, mature themes, angst, possible spoilers for The Mandalorian and the sequel trilogy of Star Wars
Summary: You’re a spice runner with your partner in crime Poe Dameron. The Pkye Syndicate has entrusted you with a special mission and Poe is making things interesting…
Word Count: 5k
A/N: This is a gift to my dear friend Alex @blackberries45 it’s her birthday today, so show her some LOVE. The reader character is going to be called ‘Lex’ for obvious reasons.
Spice. Not ryll, not polstine, and certainly not fucking gliterstim. Sansana Spice to be more accurate. Highly prized, highly expensive, and highly illegal. A useful crime world currency. Crime. Ha! The word has no meaning to you in a galaxy where planets are being vaporized and the war doesn’t seem to have a single thing worth fighting for. The so called republic, who would gladly toss you in a cell for the rest of your life for finding a dusting of Sansana on your flight suit, doesn’t do shit about the slavery and sentient beings abuse that’s been taking place on Kessel for the past 500 standard years. Wonder why that could be. Couldn’t be because the planet-vaporizers and generals of the planet defenders alike are hooked on the stuff. Not hooked, like, medically. Well, sometimes that’s the case. But they’re hooked on the money. Every currency has gotta be backed by something, and credit where credits are due… you can find the Fort Knox of the galaxy on the northern hemisphere of Kessell; with the droids and the slaves with their vibropicks and short life expectancies.
You’ve seen them. The slaves. Droids and mammalians nearly indistinguishable from each other- cloaked in the red dust of the deep mines. Children. Of every species. Probably born into the shit. You can’t care, you can’t afford to, so you turn a blind eye like everyone else in the galaxy, you get your shipment and get the hell out. You fucking hate Kessel and you’re glad to be on the ship leaving the ugly bubbling rock. You’ve heard the southern hemisphere is nicer. Plantations inhabited by the most intolerable people you could imagine. It does turn your stomach to think about it too much, hence the getting the fuck out of dodge, but even if you stopped, even if you quit, it wouldn’t matter. The boring and drilling won’t end on your account and there’d be a new runner to replace you. So it goes. It’s the lifeblood of the galaxy, Sansana. A tidal force. And some folks want to virtue signal and talk down to you just because you’re riding the wave instead of getting dashed on the rocks. Whatever. They can drown if they like, not your problem.
In short, it doesn’t matter what you do. Bakers, gunmen, artists, and thieves. If you’ve got credits in your pocket- then baby you’ve got blood on your hands. So what? You’ve cut out the middle-man. You’re closer to the root, to the seam; you’re a spicerunner. Hell, spending most of your life in a tanker ship dodging the Reps is probably a helluva lot safer than building a life on a planet somewhere, waiting for the day Kylo fucking Ren has another tantrum and decides he wants to blow up a planet because his daddy left him or whatever the hell that little fucker’s problem is.
You’re bitter, bitter about Alderaan and the bitterness has manifested itself in this hard exterior that works well as a shield in your line of work. Don’t get close, don’t get attached. Because one day, quick as light-speed, it could all disappear. So you do your thing, you band with whomever the Pyke Syndicate teams you up with, and you make your runs from Kessel to Correlia to Oba Diah to Nevaro. You send your bloody credits to your family, whatever you don’t spend yourself, and you keep your shell strong.
That is until you met Poe.
Poe is the best fucking pilot you’ve ever flown with. Maker, to watch him light-hop, to run and outgun the Reps, it’s like a dance. He’s smooth too, not just his attitude, but for a runner like yourself to see the way his hands have a mind of their own at the control panel, flicking the correct of the 52 switches outside his line of vision while not breaking a sweat despite the fact he’s got three Reps on his tail… maker, it’s something to witness. Familiar with the model of ship or not, he’s got a steady hand at the helm; his competence is like the executive function of the ship itself. He’s incredible.
HELL FUCKING YEAH! I loved this! The world and character building had me absolutely hooked, damn do I love me some good Star Wars canon and you nailed it head on. It’s clear you’ve done an assload of research for this and I’m all for it. And UGH a gentlemanly spice runner Poe, I fuckin love it. What a perfect set up. I cannot wait to see how this plays out.
Working on a Poe x Fem!Reader smut fic where you’re both spice runners (I know it’s a controversial topic in the fandom, like- so much so that I don’t think I’ll use my regular tag-list) but this is a gift for a friend and I’m really fucking stoked on it: here’s the first 500 words, It’s going to come out on the 17th lmk if you want to be tagged.
~~~~~
Spice. Not ryll, not polstine, and certainly not fucking gliterstim. Sansana Spice to be more accurate. Highly prized, highly expensive, and highly illegal. A useful crime world currency. Crime. Ha! The word has no meaning in a galaxy where planets are being vaporized and the war doesn’t seem to have a single thing worth fighting for. The so called Republic, who would gladly toss you in a cell for the rest of your life for finding a dusting of Sansana on your flight suit, doesn’t do shit about the slavery and sentient beings abuse that’s been taking place on Kessel for the past 500 standard years. Wonder why that could be. Couldn’t be because the planet-vaporizers and generals of the planet defenders alike are hooked on the stuff. Not hooked, like, medically. Well, sometimes that’s the case. But they’re hooked on the money. Every currency has gotta be backed by something, and credit where credits are due… you can find the Fort Knox of the galaxy on the northern hemisphere of Kessel; with the droids and the slaves with their vibropicks and short life expectancies.
You’ve seen them. The slaves. Droids and mammalians nearly indistinguishable from one another- cloaked in the red dust of the deep mines. Children. Of every species. Probably born into the shit. You can’t care, you can’t afford to, so you turn a blind eye like everyone else in the galaxy, you get your shipment and get the hell out. You fucking hate Kessel and you’re glad to be on the ship leaving the ugly bubbling rock. You’ve heard the southern hemisphere is nicer. Plantations inhabited by the most intolerable people you could imagine. It does turn your stomach to think about it too much, hence the getting the fuck out of dodge, but even if you stopped, even if you quit, it wouldn’t matter. The boring and drilling won’t end on your account and there’d be a new runner to replace you. So it goes. It’s the lifeblood of the galaxy, Sansana. A tidal force. And some folks want to virtue signal and talk down to you just because you’re riding the wave instead of getting dashed on the rocks. Whatever. They can drown if they like, not your problem.
In short, it doesn’t matter what you do. Bakers, gunmen, artists, and thieves. If you’ve got credits in your pocket- then baby you’ve got blood on your hands. So what? You’ve cut out the middle-man. You’re closer to the root, to the seam; you’re a spicerunner. Hell, spending most of your life in a tanker ship dodging the Reps is probably a helluva lot safer than building a life on a planet somewhere, waiting for the day Kylo fucking Ren has another tantrum and decides he wants to blow up your home-world because his daddy left him or whatever the hell that little fucker’s problem is.
add me to the fucking taglist now!! GIRLIE IM SO EXITED NOW!!!!
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.
