#poe is a pilot who does stuff

[redbean-nom]

finally watched force awakens (because the orchestra was playing the score live) and. I am now more confused.it feels like i got up for a snack break and missed half the movie but apparently i did not

[saphronethaleph]

Faster Falcon Finding

“Okay, what’s wrong now?” Finn asked, coming down from the dorsal turret. “We did jump to lightspeed, right?”

“We jumped to lightspeed, then the motivator on this piece of garbage failed!” Rey replied, already levering up one of the floorboards with her staff. “That was the only thing that wasn’t giving alerts!”

She glanced up at Poe, who’d arrived from the cockpit. “Not that our pilot was helping much.”

“Hey, cut me some slack!” Poe replied, defensively. “I’m an ace fighter pilot not freighter pilot! And I didn’t want to take this ship anyway!”

“It’s not like we had much choice,” Finn pointed out. “That quadjumper got blown to pieces! We were being strafed! We’ve got to get to the Resistance, right?”

“Yeah, but – you guys seriously don’t know whose ship this is?” Poe asked. “I asked before but I think the question got lost!”

“Like we are?” Rey asked, then put a hydrospanner between her teeth while she adjusted something with a vibro wrench. “Hold on… who does this? This thing’s got a bypass on it to feed pseudovelocity compensation from the secondary generator – the one that blew up halfway through the fight!”

She sighed. “And it’s not on any of the manuals, either.”

“I’m not really surprised,” Poe said, then something began beeping.

“What’s that?” Finn asked. “That doesn’t sound like a good beep. That sounds like a very bad beep!”

“Proximity alarm, I think,” Poe replied, turning to run back to the cockpit. “That or the reactor’s about to fail, but since the reactors are in standby right now… it’d have to be-”

He yelped.

“Guys!”

“What?” Rey replied, head poking up from the underfloor compartment.

“You’re going to want to see this!”

By the time Rey reached the cockpit, several seconds after Finn, their ship was already most of the way inside the cargo bay of a much bigger bulk freighter.

“That’s not good,” Fin summarized. “Do you think – the First Order? Have they found us?”

“Maybe,” Poe muttered. “If they have, why aren’t they using a Star Destroyer?”

“Do they have enough to go around?” Rey asked.

“Who cares, we need to get out of this mess!” Finn said. “Tractor beam, right? Can we shoot it out?”

“Not likely,” Poe replied. “Okay – we need to hide under the floor plates. Rey, how soon can you get that hyperdrive motivator fixed?”

“If I knew that I’d already have it fixed!” Rey shot back. “Um – I’ll see how quickly I can do it?”

“Make it quick,” Finn suggested.

BB-8 whistled something.

“Yeah, take BB, he can help,” Poe agreed. “Finn, you and me should hide in the other compartment.”

It was cramped in the other compartment, but not that cramped, and Finn felt around to make sure he knew the space.

“It’s like these were built to hide stuff in,” he said.

“Of course they were, do you know whose ship this is?” Poe replied, in a whisper.

“I clearly don’t,” Finn countered.

Something went clang, then two sets of feet walked up the ramp.

Stopped.

“If you’re in the underfloor compartments, you can come out now, nice and slow,” a voice told them. “My friend and I have you covered, so don’t get any funny ideas.”

Finn glanced at Poe. “Got any funny ideas?” he whispered.

“I’ve got a blaster, but that’s it,” Poe told him, quietly.

Then a hand lifted the compartment, and Finn put his hands up as a sixtyish human man covered him with a blaster.

Poe stared.

“...General Solo!?” he said, astonished. “How did you-”

“I thought General Solo was a girl!” Finn objected.

“There’s two, they got married,” Poe said. “This is Han Solo, not Leia Organa Solo. I, uh… so I can explain-”

“General Solo?” Rey asked, then banged her head on the roof of the compartment. “Ow!”

She shoved the roof of the engineering space open, and stared at the wookiee pointing a bowcaster at her. “And you – you must be Chewbacca!”

Chewbacca made a pleased noise.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m recognizable too,” Han muttered. “So you stole my ship?”

“We didn’t have much choice,” Rey said. “We were being shot by the First Order!”

“Imagine how I felt!” Han replied. “I got called in to do a favour for my wife by helping answer the distress call of that kid over there, Poe Dameron, right?”

Poe nodded, a bit jerkily.

“I knew he was on this dustball Jakku, not much else,” Han went on. “So Chewie and I parked our ship – this ship – to ask the locals about anything that had been happening, and then the First Order starts shooting at us and I turned around and our ship was taking off without us!”

“...oops,” Rey said, quietly. “Sorry?”

“We didn’t recognize it,” Finn volunteered.

“I did, but I got outvoted and it was a bit hectic,” Poe finished.

“I also want to have a word with your engineer,” Rey said. “Who has a failing inertial compensator?”

Chewbacca suggested something.

“If that compensator had failed I certainly wouldn’t have been able to do that!” Rey objected. “...I don’t think I could anyway, is that possible?”

“How did you catch up to us, then?” Poe asked.

“That’s the ship we’re on,” Han explained. “I paid some smugglers way too much to charter their freighter-”

“Hey, Solo!” a trandoshan called, from the cargo ramp. “You done yet? We need to get moving!”

“Give me a minute!” Han shouted back. “Eesh, with how much I paid you’d think they’d be less rude.”

There was a clunk, and the whole freighter shook slightly.

“What was that?” Rey asked.

The trandoshan outside shouted something harsh in another language, and Han frowned.

“That sounds important, we’d better go and see,” he said.

By the time they were outside, the situation had not improved.

Two more freighters had shown up and docked with the one Han had chartered, and both had disgorged heavily armed groups, and the trandoshan smuggler group had armed up to find out what was going on.

“Hey, Rakas!” the first pirate group said. “Where are our rathtars?”

“Rathtars?” Rey repeated. “What are those?”

“They’re not hauling rathtars on this thing, are they?” Finn asked, extremely worried.

“I didn’t ask,” Han admitted.

“Rathtars are balls of teeth, tentacles and attitude,” Finn summarized. “You don’t want to deal with them!”

“We’ve got them, we’ve got them,” the trandoshan leader said. “Just let us get our passengers out of the cargo hold and we’ll begin the process of transferring them safely. You don’t want to cut corners with rathtars.”

“You were supposed to be delivering them already!” the pirate snapped, then the other group turned up and bristled. Blasters got pointed in just about every direction, and Poe frowned.

“This doesn’t look good,” he muttered. “What are those guys doing here, then, if the other group are here for the rathtars?”

“That’s Solo’s ship!” the aqualish in charge of the third group said. “I was here for the bounty on you, Rakas, but Solo’s bounty is much higher!”

“How much higher?” the trandoshan asked, sounding interested.

“Uh oh,” Rey said.

BB-8 whistled, and all the pirates turned to look.

“...isn’t that the BB unit the First Order is after?” one of the pirates asked. “The one where they’re offering enough to buy all of us a ship?”

“Run,” Han advised.

Rey and Poe made it into the Falcon, but a barrage of laserfire cut the others off from the ship, and Han glanced at Finn as they hid behind some barrels.

“Please tell me you’ve got a com frequency for them!” he said.

“Here,” Finn replied, handing his comlink straight to Han.

“Okay, listen!” Han said. “Underneath the back right seat in the cockpit there’s a control to deploy a miniature blaster turret. Use that to give us some cover!”

The Falcon deployed its miniature turret a moment later, opening fire, and Han glanced around as Chewbacca used his bowcaster to nail one of the trandoshans to a wall.

“We need to shut off the tractor beam before we go anywhere,” he said. “Story of my life… okay, kid, how good are you with freighter control systems?”

“...I don’t like this question,” Finn admitted.

“You’ll like the plan even less,” Han told him, glancing over his shoulder at one of the other corridors leading off the hangar bay. “We need to cause chaos. They’re keeping the rathtars somewhere, so…”

“You make terrible business decisions!” Finn accused.

“I know, I know!” Han replied. “Do you have any better ideas?”

“When a plan is this bad, no plan is better than this plan!” Finn complained.

[acmetalman]

Absolute Shantae Universe (ideas)

This is my take on an Absolute Universe but with Shantae. Absolute Shantae: This version of Shantae is mostly the same as the original, But not only can she whip with her hair like the original, But she can rapidly grow it any length she wants, and she can use them like tendrils, and once she gets angry or stops holding back she can Shape shift without the use of her Belly Dances.

She's more faster, agile and durable than the OG Shantae, and can do much more stuff as well, Unlike the Original Shantae, Her dress is now Red Gold and White with many details, She still retains the Personalities of the OG and has a few personalities of her own.

Absolute Bolo: This Version of Bolo is far more different than the OG, He's 6,7, He's Extremely Buff and knows more Martial Arts than the OG, Like the OG, He also taught Shantae Martial Arts, and Unlike The OG, He's not the idiot like the Original Bolo is, He's Pretty Smart, and has won many awards from his inventions back in the day, But he only sticks to Gizmo's, Gadgets and Weapons,

Unlike the Original Bolo, Instead of a Flail he has a Morningstar Mace that can switch to Electric or Fire, or even both, He also made lots of guns too, but that's a story for another time.

However, His most Powerful weapon is The Greatsword An Ancient Sword that was built for slaying Monsters and other kinds of Evil, The More the user believes in himself The more powerful they and the Sword become, And like his OG Counter part, Bolo carries a lot of Determination within him.He wears a Light Blue Leather Coat With the Arms revealed to show off his muscles, Jeans, A White T Shirt with a Skull on it, Leather Long Gloves with Gauntlets on them and a Yellow Bandana with slight details on it.

He also came from a long line of Paladins, and has learned forging techniques from his parents

Also unlike the Original Bolo, he's not interested in hot ladies, Nor peeps on them like the og, Instead he focuses on his Weapons and gear, He's also a great helper (unlike the original) and is really skilled at handyman work, (again unlike the original) He's nearly the same as the original Bolo but isn't afraid to call out people, especially his friends if they ever treat him poorly, which has happened several times leaving Bolo to call them out for their bad behaviors.

This Bolo still cares for his friends and the people he loves, and puts others before himself.

(And Yes, He's based off Absolute Batman)

Absolute Sky: Now This Version of Sky is waaay more different than her OG Counterpart, She still has her love for birds, but is also a Pilot, She has her own plane The Wrench, Named after her pet bird from her childhood, This version of Sky isn't a Selfish Snobby woman like her OG Counterpart, she's Caring, Selfless and isn't afraid to fight, She still retains her Sisterly relationship with Shantae and is even nicer to this version of Bolo, And since she's a pilot She flies Shantae anywhere there's trouble.

She has the same colors as her OG counterpart, but wears mostly a pilot outfit you'd see out of the 1900s, Also she wields a Special Bow with many Bird engravings on it, which was built by Bolo himself.

And Last But Not Least...

Absolute Rottytops: This version of Rottytops is mostly the same, but wears more Punk Rock Clothes, She's also in a band with her brothers, Abner and Poe, "The Cadavers" they play mostly punk rock music, and they're music is rated highly by many, Unlike her OG Counterpart this version of Rotty has more Undead Magic, But she mostly uses her powers whenever she's lazy or daily nonsense.

She also wields a Warhammer that can create shockwaves or destroy pretty much anything, Again it was built by Bolo, This version of Rotty retains her Personalities from her OG Counter Part, Although she does not eat brains cause to her they taste bland, She mostly eats regular foods.

That's it for now if you guys got any suggestions on who should be Absolute, lemme know

See ya next time

[tfa-archived]

Hey, Nym, are you okay? I'm so sorry someone was ableist with one of your (amazing) hcs 🥺 I'm here if you wanna talk about what happened. But no pressure ♡

I debated answering this one publicly. Debated answering this one at all. Because sure, for all my playful kvetching, my passionate rants about why the things I like are cool and people shouldn't be dicks about it, and my occasional relatable depression text post reblog, I don't get negative on here. It's kind of my thing, or at least I like to think it is. I love to think my brand on here is that weird, positive autistic girl who is completely obsessed with Poe Dameron, and I also like to think it's a well earned brand. You don't stay on this bullshit for three years if you're normal.

So yeah, debated answering it because I didn't want to post the honest answer, but honestly this is a shitty situation, and it's important, so I am: I'm not okay.

I won't go into details, because contrary to what some clowns may believe I don't vague post (oh, oops, guess I just did a little), or at least if I kind of do, it's usually vaguing behaviors I see spread across multiple parts of a fandom, but I will talk about what it's like to be disabled and in fandom. What it is like to be autistic and in fandom.

I'm on Tumblr because it's a space where I can have a little dragon hoard of my special interest. It's where I can infodump about it. It's a space where I don't have to mask (much). In 2020, I jumped feet first into a certain special interest because life was shit and it made me happy. For every shitty take, every negative opinion I was hit with, I threw out more positive creations. I wrote. I giffed. I meta-ed to my heart's content and I was so fucking happy.

Then it....became a thing. I don't mind, as previously mentioned, my brand being that girl weirdly obsessed with a fictional pilot who isn't that popular outside of his fanon ships from a trilogy that this website loathes with as many burning suns as I hate - I don't even know something I hate that much. Anyway, I didn't mind that. But suddenly I became a wikipedia search bar. And....for the first little while, I didn't mind. Because I got to infodump about him, and I don't get to infodump irl, and my friends had heard plenty. And besides, I liked helping people! I like pointing people in the right direction of things.

But like I said. It became a thing. People were comfortable dm-ing me questions, getting mad about the answers I had, and sending back their own headcanons to contradict them. I got praised a lot for....having a special interest and being passionate about that subject. It started to feel a little bit...weird. But then I started realizing that people mostly only talked to me when they needed information from me, and that felt. Awful. It made me feel used just a little bit, and I took a step back from fandom because of it and some other mental health issues I was having.

(apparently if you're autistic this means you're 'distant')

But I wanted to keep creating, because making stuff makes me happy, and I'm autistic and I want a space to be autistic, and don't always want to (I know it does not bother you, but still) bother my friends with it, because there's loads of other conversations to have.

Fandom is more isolated now, but I feel that more keenly as someone who is disabled and audhd. Characters I relate to are seen as villains and monsters in the fandom, or manipulators that pressure people into doing what they want, or arrogant assholes who really just need to be put in their place. I try my best to ignore it.

It's harder to ignore when a not-super popular headcanon you made out of comfort after dissing your abled a bit more and living through a fairly traumatic job experience (and ergo losing out on a job because no one believed you were disabled), gets taken and written in an explicitly ableist way that mimicks precisely the trauma you were seeking comfort from.

I don't know who fandom is for anymore, but it's certainly not for me.

[queer-starwars-bracket]

Queer Star Wars Characters (Round 3): General Bracket Match 17

Gen Tri | Identity: non-binary | Media: Poe Dameron Free Fall/ROTJ Rebellion

Gen Tri was a member of the Spice Runners of Kijimi. Right before the Battle of Endor, they and Marinda Gan were hired by the Empire to provide transportation to the bounty hunter Lan-Drus, who had been tasked with assassinating Mon Mothma. At the last moment they expressed a lot of reticence about the job, worrying about how taking a job on their own and that something big was going to happen as a result of the job. However Marinda berated/convinced them to not back out at the last moment.

Years later, Gen Tri worked in a crew consisting of Zori Bliss, Marinda, and Vigilich. After a heist, when they stopped over on Yavin 4 their pilot was caught stealing from the haul and Vigilich killed him. They were forced to hire a young Poe Dameron, who had just run away from home.

In Free Fall, Gen Tri is described as having a serene demeanor. They didn’t get along with Vigilich, the group’s leader, but their calmness countered Vigilich’s bravado. They rarely spoke, overall coming off as much more mature compared to their appearance in the comic.. While they were part of the same crew as Poe Dameron, he didn’t really get to know them despite all their shared jobs. Gen Tri was the only person in their crew that knew Zori was the daughter of the Spice Runner’s leader and was supposed to focus on protecting her.

Moran | Identity: mlm | Media: Jedi Survivor

Moran is one of the residents of Rambler’s Reach Outpost, which Cal can have many optional conversations with. He is available from the start of the game, where he sits at the bar, sadly drinking his days away. He is initially rude to Cal, seeing his attempts at rebellion as foolishness. As Cal talks to him more, he reveals more of his past and becomes better inclined to the player. He reveals that he used to be a Republic tax collector, a position he used to cover for a smuggling side business. There he met a man named Dreyo and fell in love with him. When the Empire came to power, Dreyo wanted to leave the business, and when Moran wouldn’t join him, he left on his own. Moran was eventually caught, and he had to flee to Koboh. There he became a fixture in Pyloon’s Saloon, with Greez even allowing him to store his stuff in the back. Cal eventually convinces him to send a message to Dreyo, letting him know where he is. Moran does so, grumbling all the way and letting Cal know that there’s a good chance the message won’t be received. However the prospect of reuniting with Dreyo makes him marginally more optimistic and kinder to Turgle. 

[just-a-bit-of-a-nerd]

That’s not mine. :(

Paring: (Poe Dameron x reader)

Rating: Nothing but a jealous Poe and mild cursing.

Summary: Your Poe’s girlfriend, and as a good girlfriend you tend to take Poe’s clothes. But Poe sees you in something that’s not his and he’s totally not jealous. Not at all...

It’s been a long day for Poe. That’s not really out of the everyday normal though. Just being the best pilot in the resistance can get you a lot of work. But also being a commander just adds on to the load making it not only a lot, but a ton. Today was one of those days for Poe where he didn’t get anytime to catch a break. And even if he could it wouldn’t be a long one. Poe likes to be moving around, getting stuff done quickly. But today he had more stuff then he normally would have so he only got to see you for a short period of time this morning. You. That’s all Poe could, and wanted to think about. Getting home to your warm embrace for the rest of the night. Not having to worry about anything. And a huge smile came across his face when he opened he dorm and found you laid on his bed. 

“Hey flyboy” you greeted him. Using the nickname you gave him when you two were just friends. At first it kinda annoyed him but now he’d be lying if he didn’t say his heart melted every time you called him that. 

“Hello love” He replied his smile growing even wider.

“Long day?” You questioned.

“Mhmm” He hummed as he fell into your arms.

And that’s when it hit him, the smell. That oh so familiar smell. Cologne. But not his. He could tell as soon as his face hit your chest and he thought of the worst. Were you cheating on him? Have you been around other guys? And why does this sent smell like he’s smelled it a time of two before? Who was it? He then looked at the shirt you were wearing and his heart dropped. It wasn’t his, and it most definitely was not yours. But he’s seen it before. And that fact bothered him so much to the point where he wanted to scream.

“What’s this?” He asks in a stern harsh ton as he grabs the shirt you have on, “Where’d you get it and who’s is it?” He kept asking questions he didn’t know if he wanted answered. 

You heard the sternness in his voice and answered confused, “Oh, the shirt, I was just about to tell you about that, it’s David’s and-”

“David?” He asked with question in his voice. David. Someone you got along with and someone Poe despised. You’ve been friends with David for only a few months and Poe could tell that he had a massive crush on you. You could just see it in his eyes, the way he talked to you, the way he stared at you. Wishing you were his. Not Poe’s. Poe hated him for that. To be truthful, he thought David was okay other than the fact that he likes you. Hell maybe they could’ve been friends if he didn’t always hit on you. And you being you couldn’t see the fact that David was crushing on you. Thinking that he was just being nice. But Poe could, and that made his blood boil.

“Why are you wearing his shit?” Poe asked. Keeping his stern tone.

You started you story, “So a few hours ago David asked if I could help him fix up his ship because of the damage from his last mission. I said yes because at the moment I had nothing to really do, so I helped him fix it up but an oil pipe broke and got on my shirt. He offered me his and even though I said no he insisted and gave it to me. I must’ve forgotten I was wearing it. I’ll give it back tomorrow.”

Poe was not happy. He knew why that dick was so quick to give you his shirt. He liked the idea of you wearing it, of you smelling him on you even when he wasn’t around. That stupid blonde just wanted to see you modeling a peace of his clothing. But he shouldn’t. You weren’t David’s. You were his. And David needs to suck it up and move on.

Without another word Poe got up. He sat himself on your thighs as he pulled you into a sitting position and yanked the peace of shit off you. You protested in shock as he walked over to the drawer throwing the shirt on the ground. He picked out one of his shirts that happened to be one of the ones you took from him the most often because of the soft fabric. He walked back over to the bed that you were still sitting on, and put the shirt over your head. He sat beck down on your thighs staring at how the shirt laid on you, the way you could see your shoulder with how big it was on you, and how pretty you looked. He smiled.

“Much better” He sighed as he leaned back into you, laying you both back down.

“What was the problem?” you asked knowing exactly what it was.

“You know good and well what the fucking problem was,” Poe huffed out, “You are mine. So you only wear my clothes”

You giggle. You are his, and you do know how possessive he can get, “It sounds like someone got a little jealous,” you smirked as you said the words.

“Yea well for one, as I said before, You. Are. Mine. No one else, you belong to me. And two, you look way better in my clothes than you do in his,” He fires at you.

You laugh and kiss him on the forehead, “Yea I guess I am yours, and I do have to agree on the fact that I look great in this shirt,” you say with a smile. 

Poe chuckles, “Damn right you do”

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

[foxilayde]

Sansana Part 1/2[Poe Dameron x Fem!Reader]

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Drugs, illegal activity, slavery, non-explicit sex, cursing, denial of feelings.

THIS IS PART ONE, PART TWO WILL BE OUT NEXT WEEK!

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 spice runner. 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.

He doesn’t stress you out like Zorii does, cursing up a storm, barking orders at you. Poe is encouraging, Poe gives high fives, Poe claps you on the shoulder and says shit like “nice work”. And being touched isn’t really your thing. Not in any fucking capacity. Crowds freak you out with the possibility of rubbing shoulders with someone, and not just because you’re wary of pickpockets. There’s a thing about proximity that you can’t handle, alright. So far Poe seems to be the only exception to the rule, his touches don’t make you cringe or flinch. They’re tolerable. You don’t like a lot of people. And that is to say, you don’t like people in great quantities and you don’t usually meet someone you can tolerate. It’s not rocket science to figure out why you find yourself in the middle of hyperspace with relative strangers, bouncing from planet to planet, often not stopping long enough to take a full deep breath of the native air. 

The sterile recycled oxygen on the ship is the smell of home. Crisp and dry like plastic, resiny like fuel, and of course; aromatic like spice. The shit is so pure and potent that no amount of packaging can contain the pungent fragrance of the drug. You don’t even bother to hide it in the gunnels on long trips because if a Rep boards the ship, there’s not going to be any mystery as to what you’re hauling. 

What is a mystery is what the hell Poe Dameron is doing running spice when he so clearly likes people and craves stability. He itches to get on-planet on your off-days, to go to markets and chat with strangers, to try new food, to see live music. He’s warm and kind in a way that no-one in this business is. And he is often convincing enough that you let him drag you by the hand to these frivolous excursions. And every time, every new treat he sticks in your mouth, every live song he twirls your clumsy teetering feet to, you can feel the way he presses on your barriers gently like thumbs on an eggshell, fracturing you beautifully and plucking off one fragment of your exterior at a time. As if there’s something worth seeing in the yolk of you. 

And, well. You fucked him. 

It was unexpected and hot and quick and in the dark, neither of you even fully undressed. 

You— the person who cringes about sitting next to a stranger at a bar, fucked Poe. 

You blame it on the chemicals, the adrenaline. You’d nearly been caught by a Rep, dirty orange-suited fuck had you on the ground, pinned, hands behind your back and you nearly blacked out from panic. Poe was wild, shouting at the Rep detaining you to “get the fuck off of her, don’t touch her!” and headbutting the Rep cuffing him, it was all such a blur, but when you came to, Poe was wild eyed, hands hovering over you, holding back from checking your injuries, frantically asking if you were okay. You couldn’t help it. The fucking cortisol or whatever, the fight or flight— it made you jump into his arms. He tentatively held you and rocked you while you cried into his shirt. Reassuring you that it was all okay. The reps were gone, you were safe and “no one’s gunna lay a finger on you on my watch.” So… you crawled into his bunk that night. Fucking chemicals. In total darkness, kissing him with unsure lips, rocking yourself on his willing hardness to your simultaneous release, and climbing shamefully out of his bunk before you gave into the chance to fall asleep in his wide warm arms. 

You were so fucking nervous the next day he would say something. And he’d be well within his rights too. You essentially used him. It took all your courage to sit next to him— in the co-pilot chair of the ship, hard to look at him, heart racing, guilty at how vulnerable you’d been the night before. Ashamed of how much of him you laid up bare against in the total darkness. You were sure that he wouldn’t ever take you seriously as a fellow runner after that. Not just the fucking, but the needing to be saved by him from the Reps, and the crying into his shirt. 

Poe cleared his throat and started with a tentative, “so about last night—“

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You dismissed him with a curt response, busying yourself with the control panel, rechecking the calibrations. From the corner of your eye you could see him nod once and give a simple, “ok.” And he dropped it. He didn’t assume to get too friendly after that, didn’t intrude on your space beyond the usual tiny touches; fingers grazing over cups of caf, a light touch on your shoulder if he needed to get into the supply closet while you’re crouched over the boxes of spare parts, determining your shopping list for the next supply run. 

And it became a bit of a routine. On tough days… and on days that weren’t tough at all- climbing into his bunk in the swirling darkness of hyperspace, grabbing at each other quick and filthy, always leaving before sleep overtook you.

He always asks to taste you. He can’t shut up about it. You don’t even like kissing so much but you do it to keep his mouth busy, so he doesn’t get any ideas. Even kissing doesn’t stop his requests, He begs around your lips and into your mouth while you pump him with your hand, “Please, baby. Let me, let me taste you.” You shake your head even though you know he can’t see it in the perfect black of the hull.

You choose instead to line him up with you and sink down onto him in a now-practiced routine. His hands, so gentle and warm on your bare hips, not pressing you an inch further than you’d allow. 

Being with Poe like this is like the way he dances with you; to live music on Nevaro- so aware of your body, aware of your comfort level. Only ever asking for permission, and only bowing back easily without it.

And maker is he consistent. Fuck. You’ve never cum so hard with anyone else or even by yourself. Which is… pretty incredible because you’d been absolutely convinced, before Poe, that by yourself was the best you’d ever have… he proves you wrong every time. 

“Why do you leave right after? No pressure. Just curious.” He pants after your perfect release, kissing softly below your jaw, knowing that your mind is already out of the bunk. 

You didn’t tell him it’s because if you leave before you fall asleep, you can pretend it’s all a dream. You can wake up and be the person you know yourself to be. And, maker, they way he lets you keep up the ruse in the waking hours, never forcing you talk about it or making dirty jokes or wiggling his eyebrows at you; It’s enough to endear you to him enough to keep coming back, night after pitch dark night, crawling to him like a phantom, taking exactly what you need and leaving without a trace.  

It doesn’t feel real in hyperspace. Cutting through the fabric of space and time like that, leaping from one end of the galaxy to the other… if a tree falls in the woods and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? If you make love to Poe in a place that neither exists in the fabric of space nor time, did it ever really happen?

You don’t tell him that, you pat his stubbly cheek and crawl back into your chilly bunk. Alone. 

He never comes to you, putting the burden of ‘when’ on you always. It’s not exactly a burden though, and every time he feels the dip of the mattress under your knee when you hoist yourself into his bunk he lets out a pleased little “mmmm, baby”. 

There’s no foreplay… sometimes you let him kiss your tits if he needs to get hard. But you’re mostly ready and raring and… it’s not passion, it’s not. Its just a release. It can’t be passion, it’s hardly even real.

He’s a good guy, he’s someone you can trust. And that shit is rare out here in the slug fields, the outer rim, and even rarer in your trade. It’s not typical for teams to last as long as yours has. But you can’t seem to shake him. The Pyke’s are pleased with your consistency- you figure that’s why they keep assigning you together and you’re so grateful Zorii isn’t on this run with you because she is… stressful. The only thing you miss about her is her willingness to be the emissary to Kessel when you land for the spice pickup. Because Poe refuses. You’ve never pressed him, never demanded that he should take his fucking turn to pick up the supply. And it’s not like he’s ever told you that he won’t do it. He is just always seemingly busy with internal repairs every time you land on the fucking torture rock. You don’t call him out on it. Because he doesn’t call you out on your proclivities, your needs. He accepts them and you accept his. If this is his line, if he cant step on Kessel, then you’ll do it for him. It’s a small price to pay for the safe feeling you get with him at the control panel… and the safe feeling you pull from him in hyperspace. 

The droids have finished loading the supply by the time you buckle in next to Poe. A rusted S1-D6 in a burlap cloth, tapping the side of the ship and giving you a broken and rusted thumbs up from the viewing port. Maker this place is fucking depressing. Your lips form a tight line and you nod at the droid.

Poe’s face is grim as he types in the coordinates for-

“Tattooine?”

Poe doesn’t look at you while he fires up the engines and destabilizes the compressor. 

“Yeah. We’re skipping the usual. This batch is going straight to the Daimyo.”

To the Daimyo? Not the Pykes. What the hell? 

“And are we the one’s expected to make the trade?” 

You’re not used to this, you’re used to dropping the shit to the syndicate’s establishments. You’re suppliers, not fucking drug dealers. Maker. You can’t even fucking speak Huttese! 

Poe flips the internal power mode controls to manual and tells you simply, “yes.”

“I’ve never done that before. Made the trade. It’s not my thing.”

Poe sequences the auto-lift and gives you a reassuring smile, “I know. No one’s expecting you to do it. The Pyke’s gave it to me. Just let me do the talking Lex.”

“You speak Huttese?”

“Are you surprised?” He gives you a cocky smile and a wink. Ugh. No. You’e not surprised. He’s good at everything. It’s mildly irritating. Whatever. He’s probably not fluent. 

You confirm the all systems command on your side of the pit and the ship rises easily. Leaving Kessel and all its fucking misery, maker you love to watch that planet get smaller and smaller until it’s a pinprick. Until Poe engages hyperspace and you’re in swirling blue. Neither here nor there. 

“Is this some kind of promotion for you?” You’re suddenly struck by the idea that Poe might be promoted to something more stable. Maybe running a branch of the syndicate of his own. He could do it. He’d be perfect at it. You can see him now, with a team in a Cantina. Regulars, subjects, a unit to protect him… somewhere warm and bright. With all the teeming life a planet has to offer. You’d heard they’ve been looking for a Head on Nevaroo. And you know how much Poe likes their five-blossom bread and the band that plays at Greef’s most nights. Whatever. People come and people go. You get a new partner every few runs. And that’s the way you like it. 

It’s honestly stupid he’s stayed a runner this long. Runner’s get paid flat shit for the most part. The Syndicate expects the runner’s to scrape a little spice off the top, you assume that’s why the pay is so bad. But a dealer… a dealer can set their own cuts. And the better they are at talking, the better cut they can get for themselves. 

“A promotion? Don’t know.” Poe shrugs and unbuckles himself, he heads over to the radio transceiver, sits down on the floor beside it, and begins untangling the mess of wires you can only assume was done by an Anzellan with how tiny and convoluted the knots are. “Would be nice though, wouldn’t it? Be a dealer?” Poe smiles up at you and you don’t know how he’s able to make being a dealer sound like the most optimistic thing in the galaxy. 

You unbuckle yourself and make your way over to the little stack of wires across from Poe, lowering yourself on crossed legs, you take a bundle of blue into your lap and begin to look for a place to begin. Maker, it’s impossible. 

“What’s so great about being a dealer?” You mutter, finding the end of a wire and tugging hard till the threads all bunch up and you sigh in frustration. 

“More money, for one. My dad could really use it.” Poe has mentioned Kes before. How badly the war affected everything in the Dameron household made you feel guilty for being so bitter. Poe lost his mother to the war, and his father has been trying to maintain their family aggregate business on Yavin with dwindling supplies and one bum leg. Poe had been there, helping him and then decided it would be more effective to send him money. Kes didn’t need labor, he needed parts. Parts for irrigation and tilling. And parts in this economy, when every scrap of metal is worth it’s weight in spice… well. There aren’t many entry level positions in the slug fields besides runner and miner. 

“You’d be a good dealer.” You choose another wire to tug and the bundle seems to get more bunched with every pull you make. 

“Careful, Lex. That sounded like a compliment.” He smiles at you and you note the way he untangles. He grabs the whole bundle in both hands and gently pulls from the center, stretching the cloud of string larger and larger, creating open pockets and widening the surface area of the previously balled clump. Loose wires fall out the edges of the mass and he rests it gently in his lap while he feeds the wire through the widened loops. You continue to tug and pull, getting into the tight knots with your fingernails and swearing every time you drop your bundle. 

“Well, where are we going after Tatooine, then?” You ask, still concentrating on the bundle. 

“Oba Diah.” 

You scrunch your eyes closed and shake your head. “How was I kept out of the loop on this?”

“Well, I know how much you love talking to Crodit.”

“Ew.”

“Exactly. Love of your life. I talked to him before we left for Kessel. Orders came from Lom himself.”

“No way.”

“Yeah. They’ve got faith in us, Lex.”

“Faith in you, you mean.”

“Us.” Poe says seriously. “You know how rare it is to find someone as devoted to Keeping It Business as you, Lex?” Poe insists. 

You don’t know how to take the compliment coming from him so you just look back to your bundle and pick at a particularly aggressive loop.

“I think it’s you they’re impressed with. Your— people skills.” 

“We make one hell of a duo. You have to admit.” He taps your shoe with his. Tiny touches. 

You can’t help the smile that burns your cheeks when you try to fight it. He’s right. He’s too generous with his compliments, but he’s right. Its why they team you up. You work well together.

“And neither one of us is scraping spice.”

Poe goes uncharacteristically silent.

“Right?” You question, letting your hands fall into your lap. The only sound is the buzzing of the fluorescents above you and the swirling hum of hyperspace.

Poe gives you a mischievous grin and shrugs his shoulders.

“Poe! You haven’t been scraping have you?” Fuck. That would be an unmitigated disater. God if the Pykes ever find out, you’re going to get more than canned.

“Not yet!”

“What do you mean, not yet?” 

“Little Lex, do you know why we are going straight to the Daimyo?”

“Yeah, you just said- because Crodit-“

“Did you not get a good whiff of the shipment? Get a look at the color?”

“No. Not really” You busy yourself with the wire, unwilling to say you’ve never inspected it AT Kessel before, always waiting for after you boarded. Because you’re a fucking runner. If there’s something dodgy with the product, or there’s not enough, that shit is between Kessel and Lom… but, well fuck, if you had known you’d be dealing you would have taken a closer look. 

“Fuck? Really?” Poe drops his half done bundle, (maker he’s so fast at that) and gets to his feet, slamming his hand to the port door and disappearing suddenly. You don’t have time to get anxious about the state of the product before he’s back and leaning on the far wall of the cockpit with a hand over his chest. 

“Dammit, Lex. You almost gave me a heart attack!”

“What do you mean?” 

“What do I-? Get up.” He snaps his fingers at you and holds out a hand for you to take. You toss your wire bundle to the side, barely a dent in progress, you take his warm hand and he hoists you up, still holding your hand- he leads you to the loading trunk. One of the cases is cracked open and you can smell the fucking thing from the other side of the hull. 

“Shit that is strong!” You remark, the odor overtaking you. It’s a good smell. A great smell. You’re used to the permeation of spice but this smells different. Stronger. Better. And when you get closer you note the redness is unlike any Spice you’d seen before.

“Gorgeous, right?” Poe smiles and nods his head at the cracked case, “Go on, take a look. I know you didn’t do it at Kessel.” 

You roll your eyes. If he’s going to give you shit for Kessel, he can pick up the next shipment himself. 

You kneel down over the trunk and rub your finger instinctively over the deep blood red of the dust. The spice. It looks like extrait or something. Unreal.

“You know what that is?”

You shake your head, mesmerized by the color, the smell, the texture of it as you glide your fingertips over the fine, powdery surface. Regular spice is more of a dull orange and has a note of dust in the scent. But not this. It’s pure, whatever it is.

“Sansana.”

Your eyes widen, “All of it?” You indicate to all of the cases and Poe nods his head with a huge smile.  

“All of it. And we,” he kneels down next to you and shakes your shoulder, “get to keep the dealer’s cut… if we talk it up with the Daimyo.”

Holy shit. A dealer’s cut on Sansana. Your family is going to be set for a while. Kes is going to be set too. Why you’re thinking about a man with a bum leg you’ve never met, who lives on a planet you’ve never been to, you’re not sure. … You might even be able to take a fucking vacation. To where, you don’t know, or really care. 

Finally, that magic mouth of Dameron’s is going to do you some good. If he can get you 60%, maker, you’ll be happy as a clam on Mon Cala. 

“I wanna try it though,” says Poe.

“What?! Try Sansana? Are you nuts?”

“What? When else am I going to get this opportunity? I gotta be able to assure the Daimyo he’s getting a quality product… plus Crodit kind of, well, it’s part of our deal. He said he couldn’t get me the dealer gig without dosing on Sansana. I gotta do it in front of the Daimyo too. As a cultural show of good faith.”

A cultural show of good faith?

“Crodit’s using you as a test-porg?!”

“Lex, it isn’t like that. I’m a big boy, I know what I signed up for.”

“So, let me get this straight… You’re going to the Daimyo, then you’re going to snort up Sansana, and then negotiate a deal? That sounds like a kriffing bad idea if you ask me.”

“No, Lex. WE are going to the Daimyo, I will negotiate, and THEN I will snort up Sansana…. In celebration of making a good deal.”

“I- Okay then. If that’s what Crodit says, if that’s what you say, I’m staying out of it. In fact, this is a much better idea than what I thought you were doing— scraping. Maker, that would have meant both of our heads.”

“I’ve got a proposition for you though, Lex.” 

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, I want you to do it with me.”

“Do what?”

“Sansana.”

“In front of the Daimyo?”

“No, not in front of anybody but me. Back on the ship. In Hyperdrive. Nice and safe on our way to Oba Diah.”

“I’m not just going to do Sansana because you asked me to, Dameron.”

Poe inhales as if he’s about to say something and then pauses and nods. “That’s fair.”

“I’d consider doing it for credits.”

“Straightforward. I like that about you, Lex.” 

You tip your forehead to him. 

“What if we make it interesting? A bet.” He offers.

“I’m listening.”

“If I can get us an 80% dealer cut with the Daimyo… then you have to do Sansana with me.”

80 percent? That’s a no-fucking brainer. You could take a month long break on a fucking deserted island, soaking up sun and surf without a care in the galaxy. All for one hit of the most coveted Spice in the fucking galaxy. Duh. “Deal!”

“Wait wait wait, not so fast, little Lex.” 

You prop your hands on your hips, “Of course there’s a catch.”

“You have to do Sansana with me, and… you have to let me eat you out.”

He’s never talked about it before, never brought it up. Only ever when you’re both naked in the dark with the only thing illuminating you being the swirling blue of space-travel. Never like this though: staring at each other face-on with the fluorescents overhead. He must see the way you gulp.

“We can do it in the dark if you want. I’ll even close the port-shade so there’s no light at all… I just want to taste you.”

You gulp again and stare at his mouth then. Would it really be so bad to… let him…. Lick you? I mean, maker he’s obviously hard up for it, including it on his end of the bargain. Everything about it is win-win-win all around as far as you’re concerned.

Maker, just looking at him is making your kriffing head spin. What are the terms of the bet exactly? If he gets more than 80 percent: you get money, a possible vacation, a dose of sansana, and Poe’s face between your legs; and thats all if HE wins the bet. 

If you win, and he doesn’t get over 80% you get… a regular dealer cut and life as usual, plus soberly babysitting a spiced-out Poe on your way to Oba Diah. God it seems like an easy yes, so why the fuck is it so hard to say it?

Poe, noting your continued silence puts a hand on your shoulder. 

“Lex, you don’t have to. I’m going to try to get us that 80% cut no matter what. I just thought I’d…”

“Spice things up?” You offer with a smile.

Poe laughs. “Yes. So, what’s the verdict?”

You purse your lips and nod. “I’m in.”

“Attagirl!” 

“But only one hit!”

“Hey, I won’t force you! You do as much— or as little as you want.”

Poe scoops a small palmful into a leather pouch and sets it on the shelf next to the cracked case. 

“You sure they won’t notice a scrape?”

“This much?” Poe holds up the pouch with laughter in his eyes. “Honey, a calibrator droid wouldn’t know this much was missing.”

“Just trying not to die, Dameron, that’s all.”

“I respect that, Lex. I really do.”

Poe closes and secures the cracked case and offers his hand to you, helping you up. Both of your palms are dusted in enough red to land you in Rep prison for life and when you rise up on your feet your face is nearly close enough to kiss him. He lets go of your hand, slowly dragging the red grit between your fingers and he turns to step back into the cockpit. His palm leaves a print on the white keypad and the earthy-red tone of the smudge doesn’t match the ship at all. It's glaringly natural among the sterility. You find a spare rag to wipe it clean. Maker what have you signed up for?

END

~~~

only tagging those who interacted with my asking post because Poe being a spice runner is a very sensitive topic.

@paper-n-ashes @ozarkthedog @samsspade @itsmypersonalagenda @lovers-liability @littlemousedroid @tasmdd @d1rtysna1l @takenbyheartstrings @ophelialoveshandsomemen @silkzomi @spider-starry @cottagebunny9 @rosie-jane @enichole445 @maskjunkie @pri00r @randomcuboidshape @mstgsmy @strxwberrymoonstar @mysweetandsaucy @obiwanshusband @lily-lilli @lemongingerart @3-14123 @stormkobra-5 @laters-gators

[starkfastreads]

Poe Dameron dating headcanons

You first met Poe when you guys were kids you weren’t very close but your guys parents were friends, both being part of the resistance, so you spent some time together.

You lived next door to each other 

His mother passed when you both were younger, he was different after that.

The older you got the less you saw of him, at 18 you joined the resistance and Poe left, you didn’t see him for a long time after that.

Few years later his showed back up as a pilot in the resistance.

That first week he was there, was the first time he talked to you in years.

“Y/N Right?” You heard somebody say from behind you.

“Yeah, why who’s asking?” You said before turning around. 

After that you both started to catch up, both being in the resistance, and being pilots, you saw a lot more of each other.

You were both close with Leia, her seeing you almost as her own child.

After you starting dating, Leia, was happy for you but also worried that it would interfere with the job you had to do, however it’s young love and she knew nothing was going to stop you two.

OKAY NOW JUST SOFT COUPLE STUFF:

You both switch with being the big spoon when cuddling but we all know that Poe is defiantly a small spoon.

When you both have time off, he’ll take you on nice dates or sometimes just staying in bed and having movie marathon(idk if that makes this a modern au anymore, does the star wars universe have movies??)

After the events of TFA, you become close friends with Finn.

ALSO BB8 loves you.

When he comes back from a mission, he’ll lay on your chest or stomach while you comb your fingers through his hair. Either talking about the harsh day or sometimes laying their in silence.

You become friends with Rose and Rey as well when you finally meet them.

I don’t whether Poe would be much or a PDA guy or not but if he was, kisses always, no matter where you were, he wanted to be touching you in some kind of way, definitely a hand holding kind of guy.

[stormkobra-5]

Unexpected, Part 1

Poe Dameron x Stormtrooper!Reader

Summary: You're just an average stormtrooper, known as ZA-6721-- although your friends call you Zay. You're a good, loyal member of the crew aboard the Star Destroyer Colonizer, although you're on the lowest rankings possible-- though you and your notoriously incapable crew are now being given the ultimate opportunity: you're assigned to guard the infamous Poe Dameron, who you may or may not have a bit of a crush on.

This story involves a flustered reader, one hot as fuck superstar Poe, and a bumbling stormtrooper clique where the guys sound like surfers and the girls have Beverly Hills accents-- except for reader, unless you do, and then I can't stop you

A/N: So. I've never done a comedy fic. Most of my stuff is fluffy or serious, there's no in-between. And yes. It was loosely based off of the stormtrooper dancing video after I seen a gif and had to find it: https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=video&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=2ahUKEwiqo7Tn37_3AhXmg3IEHWxQDeEQtwJ6BAgKEAI&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DiyqfHvoUtkU&usg=AOvVaw0-P4g6wNgJbqw6PkpYI5DO

Warnings: This story is rated 14+ for strong/coarse language, some innuendos, and suggestive themes/references.

______________________________________________________________

"Oh my Maker. You're kriffing joking."

"I am so not, Zay," NI-6720 (Or, Nini) says emphatically, slamming her hands down on the table. "It's totally true. They're bringing him here!" In very un-stormtrooper-like behavior, she unleashes some kind of giggling squeal and kicks her legs under the table to try and let off some excited steam.

"Oh my Maker. Oh my Maker." You say, because apparently just saying it once is too little to express your great amount of sheer elation. Your hands are moving around like a posh woman trying to straighten her gown, but you're in your armor, lessening the effect. Your next words (which aren't different at all from your previous two sentences) come out in a strained wheeze. "Oh my Maker."

The Poe Dameron. The hottest, best pilot in the whole kriffing galaxy, has been captured, and he's being brought to your ship. Well, not yours. The Star Destroyer you work on. The Colonizer. But it's not like that's important. What's important is that you've got his Wanted! 2 million galactic credit bounty! poster hung up in your private dorm. So does Nini. So does your other pal, BZ-6719 (or Beezee)(Of course, you take them down when inspection time comes around, 'cause that'd look bad on your records). Hell, even the boys, KO-6722 (Koka) and LV-6723 (Levy), will admit that he's hotter than a trek through the Sandsea of Tattooine while in full armor!

"Poe Dameron. Is gonna be on this ship."

"I haven't even told you the best part," Nini adds, practically squealing. "All the prison guard squadrons are, like, out of commission or something. So guess what we get to do."

The realization hits you like a blaster hilt to the face. "Oh my Maker. You're kriffing kidding me right now."

"I am so not, Zazy."

You and Nini link hands across the table and together, you unleash a squeal unlike any squeal a fangirl has ever uttered.

So, a bit of backstory: around the Colonizer-- or any ship, or any base, or anywhere the First Order is in the whole galaxy-- you and your squadron (led by Koka) have a reputation. Whether it be sanitation, battle, mechanics, it doesn't matter. Whatever it is...

You can't do it.

Like, at all.

You've been somewhat-officially dubbed the "Klutz Crew." You've blown up whole TIE hangars by accident. You've disabled whole planetary shields and broadcasted the location of a secret base. You somehow managed to flunk getting AT-M6 walkers down to a planet's surface and ended up ending the First Order's campaign there. Captain Phasma herself has put you through rigorous exercises to determine your loyalties, but it turns out you're just idiots.

Okay, so not idiots. You really are trying your best. But you guys are clumsy as fuck and it doesn't matter how hard you try, you're eternally causing problems. Eventually, the Klutz Crew was put on standby, stationed on the Colonizer. You've been ordered to do absolutely nothing except be ready for anything, which means, for you guys, sleeping in, working out, and marching around in your armor like you know what you're doing. You've been living the life.

And now Poe Dameron is being brought here. Your crush-of-crushes. The guy you go on and on about on your private, secret blog on the holonet, about how brave and handsome he is. You have a blog dedicated to solely writing fanfic about the hotshot pilot of the Resistance, ranging from fluff to smut and you give no fucks.

Correction: you gave no fucks.

Now you're giving all the fucks.

Because how the hell are you supposed to be professional and menacing if when you look at him all you're gonna be thinking of is your 6k smutty fic you have yet to finish? Dear Maker.

"Kriffing kriff, Nini," You put your helmeted head in your hands. "What the fuck-- aren't they concerned?"

"About putting their, like, absolute worst stormtroopers in charge of guarding the greatest. Pilot. EVer?" Nini giggles to herself. "Who cares, girlfriend?! We get to see Poe Damn-eron!" She reaches across the table to give you a high-five, which you happily return-- you might be worried about approaching Poe Dameron, but hey, at least you'll get to see him, right?

Nini stands up, dragging you with her. "Come on! We gotta get to cell 5-968 in twenty minutes!"

It isn't a long journey, especially since you two are running and the elevators are in perfect working order. Koka, Levy, and Beezee are already there waiting for you. When she sees you coming, Beezee squeals excitedly, which is continued and amplified by Nini.

"Oh boy..." Koka grumbles.

"Chill," Levy urges, gesturing for the three of you to line up with him and Koka.

Koka straightens up, trying to seem all-important. "Okay guys: this is the chance of a lifetime. We do this right, and we might get promoted. We might go from the 'Klutz Crew' to... Um... Something cool."

Levy shakes a hand, thumb and pinky extended and his three middle fingers folded against his palm. "Hear that? We're gonna get promoted, dudes."

Okay.

Maybe Levy is kind of an idiot.

But you guys love him anyway.

Koka sighs heavily, shaking his head. "I said we might get promoted, Levy."

"Oh. Whoops."

Noise outside of the hall makes all five of you go ram-rod straight, at attention immediately. With thudding metallic footsteps, Captain Phasma herself rounds the corner with a regiment of stormtroopers. Of course, all stormtrooper armor is identical without any outward designation, but the helmet's vision automatically shows identifications above people's heads like a video game.

Hence why Captain Phasma immediately groans, halting in her tracks to address the commanding officer of the Colonizer, who is overseeing the transaction, and who you honestly can't remember the name of. "You're putting those fools in charge of something as important as this?"

The man cowers and yet tries to retain his dignity. You and your crew are watching out of the corners of your eyes, not daring to outright look at them. "Y-yes Captain. Th-they're all we have."

"All you have? On a Star Destroyer this size?" Phasma elicits a low growl of frustration. It's not really up to her: her orders were to bring Dameron here, which has been done, and from there it's all up to the commanding officer of the Colonizer. You've never felt so smug that someone made a stupid decision. "Very well. Just remember that Kylo Ren is watching very closely, Ecklett." Over her shoulder she says, "Bring the prisoner!"

Butterflies swirl in your stomach. Beezee jumps a bit on her heels, then remembers her place when Phasma starts to glance over. Once again, you're all frozen and still as statues. Very still, very professional statues. Unconvinced, Phasma steps aside to allow for the passage of the two stormtroopers holding the legendary pilot by his arms. A bag is over his head, which seems entirely unnecessary to you, but, whatever.

You're too busy internally fangirling. Oh my Maker. That's him. That's Poe Dameron. All my life has led to this very moment. I'm seeing Poe Dameron. Oh Maker. If it weren't for the fact that you'd probably be shot on the spot, you'd have fainted by now just from being in the presence of him. You recognize his trademark leather jacket with the red accents. His dark canvas pants (nice ass, by the way). His kriffing shirt. On his body. In front of you. Right now. It's a dream come true.

He struggles against the stormtroopers restraining him and boy, are you invested like you're watching a nature documentary. You feel like you're witnessing something rare and amazing, like a Zalorian rock-lion or something. In awe, all five of you turn to stare regardless of protocol as he's taken into the cell. The hood is yanked off, and you briefly-- just briefly-- catch a glimpse of his face. It's enough to send shivers up your spine. Good lord.

The stormtroopers depart under Captain Phasma's threatening glare, and she follows after with one final warning to Ecklett, who turns to face you guys with as stern an expression as he can muster. Which, he's short and sickly, so it's pretty hard to be intimidated by him.

"If anything happens," Ecklett warns, "You'd better count on more than just reprogramming! You'll be dishonorably discharged, exiled, banished!"

"All at once?" Koka asks tentatively. "Or is that in order of event?"

"Idiots!" Ecklett cries, and waves a finger in Koka's face. "Heed my warning, you bafoons, else you'll regret it!"

As he storms off, you five are left snickering and sniggering amongst yourselves. "Did he just say 'bafoons'?" Beezee giggles behind her hand.

"Who the hell even says that anymore?" Koka guffaws.

"Ecklett, apparently," Levy answers with a snort. "Alright: who's gonna go in there first?"

"Go in there?" Koka repeats, appalled and mildly interested-- he's always going on and on about how Poe would make a damn good TIE pilot, and you're pretty fucking positive he liked your smutty Poe fanfics on his own secret blog, but he's never outright said anything. He gives a couple of exaggerated scoffs, as if the thought is unthinkable. "We can't go in there."

There's a brief silence until Nini suggests, "Well... um... we, like... should take his gag off at least?"

"...I'll allow that," Koka "relents." "That's cool I guess. But who's gonna do it?" There's more silence when everybody's hands pop up to volunteer. "...Let's draw straws."

"We don't have straws, doofus," You point out.

"Oh. Right. Votes?"

Levy scoffs under his breath. "I dunno 'bout you, dude, but I'm gonna vote for me."

"Why don't you go, Zazy?" Nini suggests, and your heart can't decide if it wants to sink or float.

"M-me?"

"You're our local Dameron expert, man," Levy says, gesturing at you lazily. "Why not?"

"Kriff," You squeak, stunned. You hand Beezee your blaster, taking a deep breath to try and prepare yourself for meeting Poe Dameron face-to-face. Just don't think about smut. It's easy. Just pretend the mere concept of getting railed doesn't exist.

Oh Maker. I'm never gonna survive this.

"Good luck, bestie!"

With a shaking hand, you open the door.

There he is. He's somehow caterpillar-crawled to the hard, cold bench on the other end of the cell, and he turns to look at you with a growl of anger and a couple of muffled curses.

He’s bleeding from a cut on his forehead, and he's honestly pretty banged up. You feel kinda bad for him. Honestly, what did anybody do in this war? Can't we all just be friendly? These thoughts are never voiced outside of your crew. But seeing how Dameron's been beat up puts a knot in your stomach. You glance back at your crew for assurance, and each and every one of them lines up to block the door as it closes, keeping careful watch.

You turn back to face Dameron, who's watching you with those big brown eyes warily. You raise your hands, showing you don't have any weapons. "I'm not gonna hurt you. Promise. Can I come closer? Take your bonds off?"

Reluctantly, he nods, so you hurry up as fast as you can without making any sudden movements, undoing his gag first. He works his perfect jaw as you undo the stuncuffs on his wrists, and then lays there for a second to orient himself. Automatically, you reach for the wound on his head, but his hand snaps out fast as a viper and halts you in your tracks.

You freeze up immediately. Oh my kriffing fuck he's grabbing my wrist. Poe fucking Dameron is grabbing my wrist. Hell he has a tight fucking grip. Then you realize he probably thinks you're gonna do him harm. You try to remedy the situation. "Oh! No-- I'm not gonna hurt you! I-- uh, here--" He stiffly lets go of you so that you can reach into your pocket, and you bring out a medical spray that will help his injuries heal. Feeling the need to show him that it's legit, you pull off your glove, draw your knife and cut your finger, and then spray a little bit on the wound. You look at him hopefully. "See? I told you I'm not gonna hurt you."

He sinks to the floor, completely exhausted. You feel even worse for him now, and over the coarse of several minutes you tend to his wounds with the medical spray. For a brief respite of clear-mindedness, you realize that you're not thinking of him as the superstar of the Resistance, but as an injured man that requires assistance.

Then he talks, and it's all over for you. "What's your name?"

You've never heard a sexier voice. Deep, husky, good Maker, you've been blessed by the universe itself. You elicit some kind of squeaky giggle before you compose yourself and clear your throat. "ZA-6721."

"Huh?"

"Oh. Sorry. That's probably too long. I'm Zay. Zay. Yep."

"Zay-Zay?" Dameron asks in astonishment, and you squeak again.

"Eep. Nope. Just Zay. Or Zazy. It's what my friends call me."

Too late. Dameron's clearly exhausted, and he begins to doze off right on the floor. You'd be lying if you said your heart didn't start racing when he mumbled, "Nice to meet you, Zay-Zay..."

You don't even squeal this time. He looks so sad and alone here, and you wonder what he even did to deserve a beating like this. Awkwardly, you pat the uninjured part of his head. "...I'll bring you some food later, 'k?"

You practically skip out of the room, where your friends are waiting anxiously and immediately bombard you with a slew of questions.

"Well? Did he say anything?"

"Was he, like, as handsome as all his posters?"

"Was he as sexy as everybody says?"

"Dude, was he bleeding?"

Your answer to all of those questions and more is a dreamy sigh. You might as well have heart eyes stuck to the outside of your visor. There's a brief silence before Koka says, "Uh-oh."

Levy reaches over and pokes your helmet, but you only sigh again, in shock. "Dude, they've got it bad."

Beezee says with mock worry, "First-hand exposure to Damn-eron? We'll be lucky if they survive this."

"He misheard me," You sigh, "He called me Zay-Zay."

"Oh boy," Koka grumbles as your friends collectively aw, and you sigh dreamily again.

~~~

"S'up dudes," Levy says as he enters the hallway where you're all positioned. You've been guarding Poe Dameron for three days, and so far, aside from you guys, no one has come calling on him or has been in his cell. You've given him food, water, and have tended his injuries, and he's spoken to all of you kindly-- he's actually quite nice for a renowned criminal-- although you're the only one that's introduced yourself to him.

On one shoulder, Levy carries a boombox.

"Dude." Koka gestures at him in question. "What the hell, man. We have a job to do, man."

"Yeah, but who says we can't celebrate?" Levy challenges as he sets it down, pressing a button; upbeat music starts blasting from it. "We're alone up here, man. Nobody's gonna know."

"Um," Beezee glances nervously at you and Nini. "Like, what are we celebrating...?"

"Our three days of totally handling this," Levy sets his blaster down, and before you know it, everybody's (even Koka's) has joined the pile. You guys line up. Sure, working out and marching around took up a lot of your guys' time before you were assigned to guide Poe Dameron, but you guys had also spent a lot of it perfecting your rad dance routines.

In perfect sync, the five of you dance like you're an average group at a club, laughing and having a grand old time. Except, none of you notice the fact that obviously someone hacked the systems, because the cell door pops open, completely silenced by the bass of your boombox. Your backs are turned when Poe tentatively steps out, eyes widening with surprise when he finds you guys jamming out with surprisingly good moves. He's even a little impressed.

He takes a second to admire you five-- the stormtroopers with hearts and souls of solid gold despite how badly you're treated by everybody else. The doors aren't exactly soundproof; Poe had heard word-for-word the lot of you comforting Nini (although he doesn't know her name) when she'd been hit in the back of the head with the butt of a blaster for no discernible reason other than violence. He hears you talking about how relieved you all are that you haven't seen useless battle yet, that you wish everybody could just be happy. Poe knows that if he presented you five with the right opportunity, you'd join the Resistance without a second thought. Especially you.

He can tell which one you are even out of all the identical stormtrooper armor sets. You're the one that helped him first, that cut your own hand to prove to him that you meant no harm. Zay-Zay.

Poe knows your designation and your given name, but his misheard interpretation of your name stuck. Until he started calling you that, he'd never seen a giddy stormtrooper. It was kind of cute. And then you'd taken off the helmet when he'd asked you to, had had a conversation with him-- mostly, you asked him questions. About the galaxy, about different planets and animals, but nothing about the Resistance. You're curious like a child, with an infectious sort of happiness that always seems to transfer to those around you, him included.

But he's lingered in the doorway too long, because when your little group turns around, you all freeze. Poe swears there's a record scratch as one of you (Levy) trips on the boombox and lands flat on his face, unmoving in the sudden silence. Poe is frozen in the doorway. The rest of you are frozen in mid-move. One of you (Nini) slowly says, "O," enunciating the letter itself, "M," and Poe takes this as his cue to take off-- he knows that none of you will grab your blasters.

"You guys are great. You should become professional dancers, you'd kill." Then he takes off, and the five of you are scrambling to catch him-- well, four of you. Levy's still stunned.

That number dwindles to three as Koka, too eager to catch him, slips on a puddle of oil (caused by Beezee and Levy having a shooting contest down the hall and busting some wiring) and slams into a wall, whereas Poe leapt over it and continued on with a worried glance as Koka stunned himself, falling to the ground in a daze.

Beezee tries to tip-toe around the puddle, but you and Nini leap clear over it and continue to give chase. Nini, however, trips on a mouse droid and sprains her ankle with a cry, leaving only you to catch Poe.

No pressure.

Just when you're a hair's breadth away, you launch yourself toward him, intending to tackle him--

--but you fall short. You land so hard stomach-first that the breath is knocked out of you.

Great. Wonderful. We're going to be exiled. Banished. Reprogrammed. Disposed of.

You hate it here, in the First Order. All of you do. But you've spent your whole lives as faulty stormtroopers. Who would want anything to do with you? Where would you go? And now you're going to be punished for not serving a cause well that you'd never even signed up to join.

At least, Poe escaped before he fell to some twisted torture. An opportunity the five of you will never have. You'd be lying if you said you didn't sniffle a little.

A pair of hands in your vision surprises you, and you're even more surprised when Poe himself helps you to your feet. You stare at him for a second, shocked. He doesn't let go of your hands, allowing you to squeeze them in surprise. "W-what are you--"

Poe gives you an assuring nod and a small smile. "It's alright, Zay-Zay."

You have no idea what the hell he's talking about until he's stunned from behind, dropping like a stone. You try to catch him and ease his fall, which only earns you scoffs of disapproval from your superior officers, dressed all in black.

Over the next couple of days, all five of you are demoted. Poe is interrogated. A new group of stormtroopers arrive to guard him properly. And the five of you enter a gray area of sullen silence when you're told you're going to be sent elsewhere.

Again.

With heavy hearts, you pack your bags and wonder what backwater base you'll be sent to now, what you'll screw up which will have you moving again before you've even unpacked your bags. The poster of Poe Dameron seems haunting now, and you can only hear him saying "It's alright, Zay-Zay." For all you know, those could've been his last coherent words.

You're boarding the tiny transport when you see an officer coming up the ramp out of the corner of your eye. The five of you stand at attention for a minute... until you realize who the officer is.

Clad in the crisp gray uniform and black leather boots and gloves, it's Poe Dameron himself. His wounds and signs of beatings are gone, his hair is freshly-washed, the dark curls slicked back. You and your buddies look at each other in confusion as Commander Poe Dameron jerks his chin at your group. "Guess they don't trust me very much yet. I'm being sent the same place you guys are-- though it'll be nice to have people I know there with me."

As the ramp closes, his hands gravitate to his hips. "I'll be your commanding officer, so I'll need to know your names."

After a moment more of confusion, Koka straightens up again and begins reciting his designation before Poe stops him. "No no-- your names. What do you call each other?"

There's more hesitation between you, until he stammers out in response, "I-I'm Koka. This is Levy, Nini, Beezee, and you know Zay."

Poe Dameron looks upon you with something akin to pride. None of you know it yet, but he's impressed by the humanity of you five, and has already decided to ask you all to join the Resistance.

After he's done with his mission, of course.

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

Thanks for reading!

I chose the taglist based off of my other posts/asks, but if anyone wants to be added/removed, please let me know!

Taglist:

@poeticsorcery

@dameronsknight

@ahookedheroespureheart

@simonsbluee

@seninjakitey

@jedinerd27

@simonsbluee

@adamcarlsenslvr

@bluestuesday

[noiselessbuck]

asking about the good version of the sequel trilogy that lives in your brain

HI YES

ok so my favorite sw movie is the force awakens because it caused me to have such a great idea for the rest of the series which never happened but shhhh it did

the main idea is that you can, by letting finnpoe exist, parallel a bunch of stuff to the original series but also more fun than that so we have:

- first off more time on reys home planet (i read the whole lil companion book about her chilling there) i'm not immune to Nausacaä coded characters

- poe has his tv canon backstory as a pilot instead of changing it to be racist

rey and finn things:

- finn and rey are like hinted at as oo are they gonna be together

- finn does actually get to say and fully use his force sensitive powers

- he and rey have like force-spidie sense on each other

- around the time when they are saving the hurt and angry sandworm thing is where finn's force sensitivity powers and shown and shows a lot of their force connection

- at a time after saving said sandworm thing finn and rey like either are egged on by someone or do think the other has a crush (possibly a weird singular kiss) and then! they both go um no thanks not romantic. but also- you're my force soulmate and my best friend. and then they're in a force-QPR thereafter

- after this poe is all like very quickly relieved and happy for them

rose things:

- listen listen rose and finn are thee ultimate "attempt at being straight before we both realize we are not" thing

- still have the most awkward kiss ever

- rose gets a cool gf (i dont know side characters names)

- both rose and finn are concerned about telling the other it's not gonna work out and then are relieved

- then they're chilling friends and she gets to be in the third movie doing cool stuff

finnpoe things:

- finn poe co-captains jacket scene is more romantic

- after a big scary fight they kiss

- i really want there to be parallels specifically to "a kiss for good luck" to hint reyfinn and then also smth similar to leia and han's endor scene with finnpoe of like what i thought you liked her? no dude im her soulmate, you're who im in love with

aro rey vs kylo stuff:

- more rey roasting kylo for having his shirt off and shit

- kylo being all like there's something special between us please join my facism 🥺 and rey going nope i have a force soulmate you're a force pain in the ass

- zero reylo kissing

- they can team up for the last part with the force sharing lightsabers thing but it would only show that rey has turned him (ps the final fight sucks ass and would be different but not solid ideas what it would be)

other things:

- rey would only ever be related to random trader civilians none of this granddaughter bullshit because power via lineages is the patriarchy fuck that we need Just some guy who is a girl representation

- the scene where rey fights evil!rey would one, semi mirror luke fighting spectral darth vader and two

- SHE WOULD MAKE THE FOLDING DOUBLE SABER

- like im sorry but you can reject the evil version of yourself and still take notes on saber construction

- leia would only almost die she's actually gonna die and also only have the death scene be whatever CGI stuff

- kylo would still kill han bc that shit was funny

- the cool girl who led a stormtrooper rebellion and rides space horses will NOT be related to lando because what the fuck. rey being lukes granddaughter is one thing but- 2/3 of the black character in this fucking Galaxy are related? fuck no. she would still be cool and get more scenes and maybe she can be rose's girlfriend

- leia has the force uses lightsabers more and her lightsaber should be pink specifically because when carrie fisher was asked what color it would be that's what she said

- kylo needs to be more stupid and more just anything that would stop people from thinking he's cool hot and edgy. ofc this is nigh impossible but just more things similar to the "kylo ren the middle schooler" twitter account

- more animals!! and more animal interactions like the ice foxes

- name the porgs something else🤦

- make all the bad guy ships more interesting looking instead of just- the same thing but larger, unLess that element is played up for comedic effect more

- the kid at the casino stables who gets a shot showing they can use the force is the black kid

that's everything i can think of right now yee ill rb with more if i think of it

[pavvo20]

The Spark - Chapter 3 - Wake Up, Flyboy. | Poe Dameron

Pairing: Poe Dameron x OC

Summary: When her childhood best friend recruits her during an undercover mission for the Resistance, Captain Kara Embers embraces her family legacy and joins the fight against the First Order. As the secrets of her past come to light, Kara never expects to be training with her mom’s best friend, flying her father’s ship, and falling in love with the Yavin-4 boy who always said he’d be the galaxy’s best pilot.

A/N: Doing my best to keep things rolling here -- we start with another *Flashback* of sorts, and then head right on into some DEEP stuff. 

Warnings: violence, language, sarcasm, moodiness, whump, fluff, kissing, ya know.. all that stuff. 

Links: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 

Word Count - 3.4K

“She looks just like Athena did.” Han uttered as Leia approached him and Kes Dameron for the first time in several years on the flight line of Yavin-4. She had brought a young captain with her, one Han remembered being much shorter and younger than she was now. Kes nodded in agreement with his former superior; 

“She really does.” Both men knew better than to say anything too loud. The girl’s mother was a close family friend until the day they lost her. Her father, their brother in arms, died of heartbreak only a few years later. They had both helped raise the girl until the day she left for the academy  and almost a full decade later, here she was again… all grown up. 

“General Solo, Sargent Dameron; you may remember Captain Kara Embers.” Leia stated formally as Kara beamed, recognizing her “uncles” almost immediately. Kes went for the hug first, scooping the young pilot against his chest tightly as she returned the gesture. 

“My Stars, when did you grow up?” He said, stepping back momentarily to get a better look at the girl. Han cleared his throat, alerting Kes that it was his turn to greet their suto-daughter. 

The former smuggler wrapped his arms around Kara so tight that even Leia’s heart warmed at the sight of her husband’s affection. He always secretly hoped they’d have a daughter — and the Embers’ girl was as close as he ever came to getting one. 

“Kid, your dad would kill me if he could see you now.” He said, peering at his wife as they all remembered their late friend. 

“I’m sure he would..” Kara remarked. “He’d be crushed to know I’m a better shot than he was.” 

“Which means you’re still not as good as me.” Han winked. He had missed these interactions.

The young woman had done well for herself, graduating from the Republic Military Academy in the top of her class. After spending a few years as the assistant to the Republic's military representative in the Senate, her commanding officer insisted she accompany him on an undercover operation to the Outer Rim that was ultimately compromised. Kara had assisted the guardsmen in fighting off a dozen or more pirates and had flown the transport ship home after many in her party sustained major injuries. It was a miracle that no one had died. 

The Republic moved Kara to special operations shortly after that. It was her very next mission, a little reconnaissance trip to Tatooine, where she had run into Poe. 

He didn’t recognize her at first. It had been 10-12 years since they had last seen each other anyway. She was sitting at the bar in a local cantina disguised as an edgy smuggler looking for her next deal. He had taken the seat next to her, side-eying her glass as she took a sip, noting what drink she had so he could get her another one. Instead, his eyes recognized an Aurebesh tattoo on her wrist that read, “In the Stars.” 

Those were Athena Embers’ last words to her daughter before she had passed away when they were 7. 

A week later, Kara had decommissioned from the Republic forces and joined the Resistance. 

Han had moved to greet Chewy when Kes saw Poe disembark from the Millenium Falcon. It had become apparent that he had flown the legendary ship to their meeting at Leia’s request. There weren’t too many people on Han’s short list of trusted pilots. There were even fewer on his list of trusted mechanics. Poe was the only one who just so happened to be on both. 

The man took one look at his ship before corralling its pilot in for a long-overdue hug. It had been a few years since he last saw the younger Dameron. He too had grown up quite a bit since their last encounter. For starters, his once-patchy facial hair was now a fully matured five o’clock shadow. He was also significantly less lanky and malnourished than when they had broken him out of the spice trade. The young man was fit, confident, and roguishly handsome. Han had to admit, he could finally see why they had chosen him for the Resistance Recruitment posters. 

“Kes, your son clearly got Shara’s good looks.” Han teased as father and son reunited. Leia scoffed as Kes took a minute to inspect his son. They were almost mirror images of each other, except that Poe had his mother’s eyes and longer hair.

“There must be bacta in the water or something over there.” He chuckled. Han was right about one thing, his son was no longer the little boy who learned to fly in his mother’s lap. 

“Commander Dameron, why don’t you take the Captain and find a good place to set up a command center?” Leia suggested, reminding them all why they were here in the first place. Their mission did have a fast-approaching deadline. Especially with the First Order’s latest string of attacks fresh on their minds. 

“Copy that.” Poe said as he and Kara turned to head into the hanger. The trio of Rebellion veterans watched their young counterparts as they pulled a map of their former base up on a datapad and disappeared. 

Kes immediately saw the way Poe had come to idolize Leia like he did his own mother. His unwavering loyalty to her, the Resistance, and his little make-shift family was evident in everything he did. As hard as he tried to keep his son out of this war, it was too fitting that they both found themselves in it again. 

The older Dameron couldn’t help but also notice something different about the way his son looked at his best friend. Sure, Poe had always had a soft spot for the Embers’ girl. Hell, he was incredibly protective of her growing up, but it was a big brother kind of protective. Now, the look he gave her was similar to one he used to give his wife. 

“It’s hard to remember that they aren’t kids anymore,” Leia said with a sigh. Her hand blindly found Kes’ shoulder. “Stars, I remember the day you both dropped Poe off and made me promise I wouldn’t let him fly.” 

“That was not one of our better ideas.” Kes remarked, looking sharply at Han - who had stunned Poe in an alley on Kijimi and essentially kidnapped him to get him out of the spice trade - He’d never forget hearing Poe’s anger in the background of Leia’s holoprojector just hours afterward. 

“No… but it was better than his chosen option.” Han blinked, silently acknowledging how hypocritical he sounded. 

“He’s recovered well. Even if he does have a reckless streak.” Kes gave his friend a reassuring glance. It wasn’t completely his fault that the boy had grown up to be just like them.

There was a chorus of laughter before Leia jumped in; “Reckless is a light word for it.” 

“Now he’s got his partner in crime back too…” 

“She gives him a run every once in a while. Both of them are stubborn as hell. Wait till they disagree out here, you’ll want to blast them both to the Outermost Rim.”  Leia continued. She paused to look out across the tarmac, taking in the natural beauty of the planet that lay beyond it. “He loves her.” 

Both men looked to the general, almost as if they misheard her. 

“They were essentially siblings.” Han caught himself after the words left his mouth. “Oh you mean..” 

“He hasn’t told her yet. Probably doesn’t know how. In fairness, he probably is afraid it’ll ruin their friendship.” 

“What about her?” Kes inquired, genuinely curious about what Leia was sensing. He could feel that something was grounding Poe, but couldn’t put his finger on exactly what it was. Leia had always been more in-tune with the Force than the rest of them, thanks to her brother. 

“Same thing. They’ll stumble into it soon enough. Poe’s already stopped flirting with most of the women on base since she arrived.” Leia smirked. She couldn’t blame him for his ridiculous dating record. The young man was handsome, strong, and confident even when he wasn’t. It also helped that he really was the best pilot the Resistance had seen in years and any woman in her right mind wanted a chance with him. Trying as she might to keep him busy with missions, Poe still found time in between to break a couple hearts. Most of his exes had believed maybe one day, they’d convince him to love something more than his X-wing. That was until he came home with Kara. 

“Kes, sound familiar?” Han joked. “Like father, like son.” 

“It takes a strong one to wrangle a Dameron, Solo. You know that better than anyone.” 

…………………………………….

Kara opened her eyes to see the sun creeping into the med bay window of Poe’s recovery room. She slowly lifted her head to take a look at the clock when a small groan came from the man she had spent the night leaning on.

“Poe.” She put a hand on his cheek as his eyes moved around under their lids. “Come on flyboy. Wake up.” 

“Only…if there’s caf.” He croaked, a weak smile forming on his face as he opened his eyes. It didn’t take but a few seconds for them to find exactly what they were looking for. “Kara..” 

“You just had to be—“ He cut her off as he leaned forward to capture her lips. Poe pushed all the pain out of his mind as she accepted his needy kiss. His hands held each side of her face as his fingers got tangled in her hair. When she stopped to catch her breath, he held Kara’s forehead to his, eyes still closed, thumbing away a few of her happy tears. 

“Next time I’m coming with you.” She said, pulling back further, careful to not disturb any of his wounds. Poe immediately noticed that she was wearing one of his ratty undershirts under her flight jacket and had a blaster strapped to her right thigh. His brow furrowed when it dawned on him that Kara wasn’t injured and her hair was in her usual messy ponytail - not the bun she wore to fly. 

“When did you escape?” He asked. Kara turned back to the pilot after she had hit the nurse’s call button, completely confused.  

“I left with BB-8 right after you ran to save the villagers. I was gone right after I saw Ren’s ship land.” She stated, her eyes focusing on Poe’s searching for signs of a more serious head injury. 

Poe blinked and shook his head. “No way..” Kara wasn’t completely surprised that he thought she was lying to him. She did have a tendency to ignore his orders, usually because her strategic mind was already a little further ahead of him. In fact, one could argue that it was a little surprising that she hadn’t stuck to that trend this time around. 

“I swear I followed your orders. I know that’s hard to believe but this map was too important to lose.” Kara said, a genuinely serious tone in her voice as Poe’s face showed even more bewilderment and frustration. 

“I heard you screaming,” he confessed; “crying out like he was ripping through your head.” Kara’s puzzled look immediately changed to terrified. “You called out for me.” 

“He tricked you.” Came the concerned yet familiar voice of General Organa, “They were force projections. Ren likely got the idea after he went through your memories the first time.” 

“I tried to fight him off —” she raised her hand, shutting Poe up. 

“Even the strongest Force user would have struggled to keep him out Poe. The fact that you made it more difficult for him at all is something to be proud of.” Leia moved to sit on Poe's other side. “Kara has been with me the entire time. We have the map.” 

Both women felt Poe exhale like he had been carrying the entire galaxy on his chest for a few minutes. “Thank Maker, you listened.” 

“Don’t get used to it.” Kara joked, a sarcastic yet comforting smile spreading across her face as she caught Poe rolling his eyes. 

“If Kylo Ren knew how difficult you were… he’d definitely think twice before taking you in.” The jab came as a welcome sign that the pilot was getting back to his old self. 

Kara shot Poe glare of exaggerated annoyance, “He does know how difficult I am, remember? And that’s rich coming from you.” 

It was Leia’s turn to roll her eyes, “Clearly the bacta has done its job.” Both pilots blushed. 

“Poe, I need you to tell me more about the interrogation.. as much as you can remember.” Leia’s voice shook a bit as she spoke this time. There was no avoiding how nauseating this conversation was going to be for all of them. She was just glad that Han wasn’t there to make it that much worse. 

Poe described Ren’s initial mind probe and Kara felt a sinister chill run down her spine. She knew that Force-sensitive people could be trained to better sense the emotions, feelings, and memories of others but certainly not in the way that Poe had experienced firsthand. Ren had forced his way into the mind of a completely unwilling participant, causing enough pain and anguish that his victim still trembled with the idea that it would happen again. Poe unconsciously grabbed her hand as he described how his tormentor recognized his attempts to block the invasion, only to apply even more pressure and dive even further into his memories. Kara saw the General stiffen as Poe paused, his heart feeling like it was going to beat out of his chest.

“He flipped through our childhood memories. Particularly one’s where we had all played together or everyone was around. I could feel him pause anytime he saw you or Han.” 

Leia’s eyes closed as her emotions swelled a bit, Poe took deep breath; 

“I tried to call him out on it and he almost choked me out, insisting that Ben was dead and that you guys loved me more as a son than you ever did him.” He sighed, feeling Leia’s hope dwindle and noticing her pain creep back into her features. “After that, he asked about Kara.” 

She froze when she heard her name. Poe didn’t dare make eye contact with her but his brow furrowed as he blinked back tears. Leia immediately felt an overwhelming amount of fear in both of them. 

“I refused to tell him anything…so, he went looking for it.” Poe’s face twisted in pain as he forced himself to keep it together. “That’s when he learned you had told me about that time when we were 10. And that I had given you the map.” 

Poe’s eyes were red with emotion and projecting gut-wrenching guilt when he finally did look at her. Kara had never seen Poe this scared, not even when they were kids. “It’s ok..” she whispered, hoping that it would soothe him just a little bit.  

“It was the next morning when he projected your screams into the room, that’s when I thought they got you too.” Poe let the tears fall freely now, his hand squeezing Kara’s tightly as if to remind himself that she was right there, safe and sound.  “Ren invited himself in again shortly after his projection stunt. That’s when he saw that night a few weeks ago on Yavin-4.” 

Kara’s eyes went wide in horror as it dawned on her what night Poe was talking about. She looked at Leia and back at him, her own terror causing her to tremble. It would have broken Ben Solo’s heart to see her and Poe together to begin with, but now he had seen them all, including his own parents, had truly moved on without him. 

Poe instinctively pulled Kara to his chest, running his hand up and down her back as she began to break down. Her mind raced with the memory of Ben’s intense anger following the rejection so many years ago. She hadn’t meant to hurt him as bad as she did. They were 10 — and she was embarrassed – plus, Ben had made her promise that she’d never tell Poe what happened. Kara unconsciously shivered as she remembered that night too— as Solo had cornered her on a walk home and used the Force to keep her quiet as he intimidated her into compliance. 

She’d kept her promise for 17 years. Kara had only told Poe about the kiss because she swore the next time she’d see Ben Solo was when she met her Maker. She hadn’t told anyone about him using his powers on her or how it had been her constant motivation to ensure that no one ever intimidated her like that again. And now certainly wasn’t the time to disclose that either. 

Kara pulled herself out of her memories and tried to focus on the sound of Poe’s heart still racing in his chest. His strong arms had settled around her shoulders, holding her as close as he could from his position in the bed. She could smell traces of his cologne mixed with sweat on his neck. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to become intoxicated with the pilot for a minute, silently thankful for the distraction. 

Leia was uncharacteristically still on the edge of Poe’s bed. The reality of her son using the Force to torture his childhood friend was disgusting and weighing heavily on her heart. Especially since it was all over a map to his missing uncle. The worst part was just before that, he had also murdered an entire village of innocent people over it. 

She could bring herself to understand the man’s anger toward her brother. Hell, she could even see the motive behind maiming Poe, but it was Kylo Ren’s sudden interest in Kara that really made her want to throw up. 

There was only one logical explanation for it and it certainly wasn’t (at least not entirely) the hope that maybe his first crush would have feelings for him again. 

He had felt her power. 

The general turned her attention to the young woman Poe had in his arms. It was time for her to start learning the true extent of her connection with the Force…and they needed to start today. 

“Kara.” She breathed as the girl reluctantly pulled herself away from the pilot. “You are now going to start training with me twice a day. Sometimes more.” 

From two people who were notorious for talking back, Leia was surprised to be met with silence. 

“You have a connection to the Force that is similar to Ren’s and if it remains untrained, he may try to influence you to do things you wouldn’t otherwise do.” She continued, “So, I’m going to make sure that doesn’t happen. I’ve already lost one kid, I’m not going to lose another.” 

Leia shifted her gaze to Poe, “And you,” His eyebrows jumped, “You are going to help me.” 

Poe had experience with a lot of things, but training a Jedi wasn’t one of them. He barely understood his own connection to the Force as it was. How in the stars was he supposed to help prepare someone to face a Sith lord? 

“But -” 

“Dameron. You’re the best fighter we have and she’s going to need to be ready to face the best. On top of that, there isn’t a soul in this galaxy that knows Kara better than you do.” 

Leia stood, sensing the apprehension both Kara and Poe were hiding behind their attentive stares. They were right to be scared, this wasn’t going to be easy. It was going to test all three of them far beyond any battle, loss, or mission they’d experienced in their lives. 

“We’ll start tonight. Meet me at my quarters at 2200.” She headed toward the door, stopping one more time to look at the pair. “Try not to be late.”

[lightsinthedistancee]

Under the Cover of War: FO!Poe Dameron x Resistance!Reader

Pairing: FO!Poe Dameron x Resistance!Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: “‘Let’s go,’ he murmurs. ‘Let’s run.’ His gaze is fixed on you, begging for this. He needs you—he needs you to be there for him so that he has a place in the galaxy, a place he would never have otherwise. ‘Please.’”

Following the destruction of the Hosnian System, a promise and a dire decision are made by you and Poe.

Warnings: Language

“Why?”

The single word is clipped, volatile, dangerously soft in nature. It’s a question, a plead, an accusation, all at once. It seems to scream in the silence, to imply a million other queries that Poe doesn’t want to answer.

He simply remains quiet as he stares at your back turned to him. You sit on the edge of the bed, breath shaking, refusing to even look at him.

He inhales, blinking rapidly. “Sweetheart—“

“Why?” This time, it’s a scream. The sound is ragged, painful, your voice cracking. It makes him flinch, makes him draw into himself.

The loud cry echoes, disintegrates as the seconds pass.

He wishes he could transport himself back to five minutes ago, before either of your holos had rung. Before the First Order had reported a victory to him, before the Resistance had reported a devastating, unfathomable loss to you.

He wants to return to when he’d laid beside you, running his fingers down your sides, when the memory of pressing you into the sheets was still fresh in his mind.

But somehow he knows that whatever the two of you have will never return in any way.

“How could you?” you whisper, the shock of five of the galaxy’s most populous planets being obliterated in mere minutes still in the process of shattering you to pieces.

Poe wants to shrink into the air, disappear in moments. He knows you’re crying, that you can’t handle it. He’d be lying if he said he himself was handling it at all.

“I…I don’t know what happened.” He stares at the sheets, tears running down his own face. He can’t imagine it. The deaths of tens of trillions. Their screams, the pain they must have felt in the blinding light of imminent death.

Your hands tighten into fists as you shake. Your form is locked in tension, perhaps about to abruptly turn around and strike him, perhaps about to break and collapse into a distraught pile of bone and flesh. “You’re a liar.”

The words are akin to a strike itself. He near hisses, unstable in his new knowledge. “Why the fuck would they tell me? I’m not even a colonel.” His volume rises, swirling in the atmosphere, ready to completely burst free. “I didn’t have a damn thing to do with it—“

“But you certainly have something to do with those who ordered it!” You finally turn to him. You’re livid. Eyes red with tears, lips in a tight line, a glare that threatens to break him.

And your statement is not something he can deny. He deflates, silent. He can feel your eyes on him expectantly, but nothing comes.

When enough time passes, you stand from the bed, grabbing your things from the bedside table. As your fingers delicately wrap around the blaster you regularly carry around, he briefly thinks that perhaps you’re about to turn around and shoot him.

But you don’t, and something new finds home beside your anger: a heartbreaking sense of disappointment.

It’s on instinct when his hand shoots out, grasping your arm. “No, wait…please. Don’t go,” he says quietly.

You’re all he has. There’s nothing more to say other than that. Life in the Order is a cold one, always has been. While he may not agree with the side you’ve chosen, you’re the sole warmth in his life, the sole radiant light.

You jerk in his grip, but he tightens it, eyes unashamedly pleading with you, begging you to not leave him.

Even in the place you always meet him, buried beneath layers of rock, surrounded by passages of clandestine activity necessary in your illicitness, his meetings with you never fail to be the only times he’s truly happy.

“Please…,” he pleads once more, thumb running over your knuckles.

A debate takes place on your features, and he can read you better than he can anyone else. He’s the person you’d let into your heart, the person you’d revealed every personal secret to. He’s the one who’d whispered ‘I love you’ one fateful night, the one to whom you’d whispered it back. He’s the one that had challenged your blind loyalty to any ideology, the one to whom you’d done the same.

He can see all those things viciously, ruthlessly grappling with the horrifying events that had just transpired: bodies being ripped to shreds, building being reduced to dust, life being annihilated in fire.

And in an act of emotional obscurity, the two opponents are shockingly close.

It’s evident which wins out when you limply fall back to the bed, body slumping to lie down, eyes tiredly closed.

“Then tell me why,” you whisper, barely audible.

“Why what?”

“I want to know why you joined the people who did…this.”

And at that simple request, he feels his walls rise. Even if they’d fallen long ago when he was around you, they’d never truly disappeared.

“I thought we don’t talk about stuff like that,” says Poe quietly.

“Well, I changed my fucking mind.”

He gazes around the room, reminded of the sole thing that prevents full, unconditional commitment to the other. The space they are in is a brutal reminder of the fact, for it presents itself in sets of two, an embodiment of duality.

Two blasters on top of the bedside table. One polished and new, the other dull and thoroughly used.

Two sets of boots clumsily scattered by the door. One shiny, lacking a single scuff mark, one that’s appearance suggests it’s been passed through several owners.

Two jackets. One with the hexagonal, sixteen-rayed symbol of the First Order, one with the starbird of the Resistance.

It’s a glaringly horrid representation of the two of you, never destined to be the same.

“Did your tongue also vanish along with the five planets?”

He slowly comes back to the present with your words, forcing away his disconnect.

It’s not something he can afford right now. Maintaining his privacy, hiding the events of his past, concealing the cause of his motives—he can’t afford any of that if he wants you.

And somehow, all he does want is you. You, you, you—to the point that he wonders if it’s unhealthy, if it’s even real and true, but that’s something he refuses to consider in the moment.

Even though you’d seen some of the darkness through him, he is certain that your loyalty to light is stronger, if only marginally, and that means he has to tell. He has to reveal.

“My mother,” he simply says, gaze unfocused. “She was a rebel pilot. She died.”

The slight stirring of your body freezes. He’d never talked of his family’s loyalties; he’d always given the impression that they’d passively existed in the deluge of light and dark that had overtaken the galaxy.

“She’s why I joined.” He flinches at the memory, grimacing at the pain he’d felt as a boy. “She died because of rebellion recklessness. Because of belief in blind hope.”

The anger—it’s simmering once more, bubbling higher, inching further and further to the edge of his chest.

And he can tell yours is too. Your fingers grip at the sheets as your eyes narrow. “Reckless…blind…hope?” He’s questioning your belief, accusing it of something dangerously irrational, and you yearn to lash back on instinct, to defend the beliefs you’d lived your life by—even as your own doubts of it conceal themselves in the background.

He laughs bitterly, his voice rising again. “Don’t kid yourself. That’s what the New Republic lived off of, and it was a fucking mess.”

You tense up, practically shrieking your next words, wholly, viciously attacking him back. “Who are you to say that—“

“There were people revolting in the streets!” he yells, his voice perhaps even louder than yours had been. “There were people in the Outer Rim starving! It was chaos—“

“And the First Order is what? Orderly?”

“They’re better than you and your—“

And he falls silent all of a sudden. He stops himself.

He knows where this is going. It’d happened and been resolved before, but he has a sneaking suspicion that that won’t be the case if the two of you continue down this road.

“Fuck,” he groans under his breath, his back slumped as he rubs his face with his hands.

“Me and my what?” you ask quietly.

He just shakes his head.

You fall back to your laying down position, head burying in the sheets, trying to block everything out. He’s right. He’s entirely right. The flaw in the Light, the flaw in the Republic, but you can’t bring yourself to denounce the loyalty you’d inherited.

He sniffles, hiding his tears behind his hands, and his figure—he knows it’s one of pure pain. As good as he’d gotten at hiding his emotions, they always seem to show themselves in your presence, no matter how hard he tries to defeat them, and it’s undeniable that you feel them to the fullest.

“You say ‘mama’ in your sleep sometimes,” you whisper all of a sudden.

At the revelation, he goes still. It’s an unsettling thought…that perhaps you’d known of his weakness long before he’d willingly showed you, long before he thought you deserved to know.

That maybe you’d heard the words of him crying out for his mother before you’d even known the slightest deeply-personal thing about him, when you’d only known the feeling of him inside you and the feeling of his lips on yours and the weight of his body as he slept beside yours.

His reluctance to look at you only increases tenfold when the shame floods in. The shame of a lifetime at this point—of weakness regarding his family, of putting blaster bolts in people who didn’t deserve them, of not being able to let go of his past, something he’d been striving for his whole life.

It all externally devolves into a mere fit of subtle trembles.

“Poe?” Your tone is soft now, gentle. You’re on your knees, sitting up, a single hand on the side of his face joining the space between the two of you. A certain mixture of concern and inquisitiveness finds home in your eyes, and for a second, he thinks your expression reflects one of a person staring at a beaten-down, once-aggressive animal.

“I regret it—joining the Order,” he simply says, voice cracking. The gas, plasma, fire, flesh, and bone of the destroyed system fill his imagination. “Is that what you want to hear?”

“Only if you mean it.” There’s still no sympathy to your voice, but there’s a softer edge to it, the kind that’s always existed but disappears in every fight.

“I do.” He leans back into the pillows, forearm over his eyes. It feels as if this has been going on for far too long, for he’s exhausted.

Your hand finds its way into his curls, tracing from his hairline to the base of his neck. It’s hauntingly reminiscent of what he’d felt so passionately and tenderly before the conflict had even begun.

“All darkness dies in the light,” you whisper.

It’s an ambiguous statement to many, but he automatically knows what you’re asking of him—you want his darkness to die in your light.

And while part of him begs and yearns to submit to your wish, something about your words perturbs him—the words unsaid. His darkness…the one he’d held for so long, you don’t want it to disappear, you don’t want it to transform, no, you want it to die. You want him to kill it.

“I can’t,” he says softly, fingers fumbling with the sheets, almost hoping to blindly find you.

“The Light Side’ll—“

“I’m done with the fucking sides,” he interjects, his words lined with a sharp edge. A puff of air leaves his lips as he desperately wishes for calm, one with at least some semblance of permanence. He finally looks at you, eyes now completely devoid of any anger or menace they’d held before, just the sadness of someone who’d made one too many wrong choices. “It’s just pain either way, isn’t it?”

“Maybe,” you admit, a brief expression of hesitance crossing your face. “But you have to choose.” The hesitance turns to anguish, a revelation in its most subtle form. “There’s more pain if you don’t, and perhaps…perhaps that’s why I chose my side.”

He props himself up on his forearms at the mere implication—the implication that your unwavering loyalty to the light is not so unwavering, that you’d gone head in like he had with his loyalty and was now beginning to doubt things.

“Some don’t choose—“

“And they suffer for it,” you interrupt, finishing his statement with your own thoughts. It’s something you’ve seen your whole life: those who don’t choose being made to do so—often in violence.

He laces his fingers with yours, delicately wrapping each of your digits around his palm.“We’ve suffered our entire lives, darling,” he muses. “Born into a galaxy at war, a brief respite, and then yet another one…just suffering, suffering, suffering…within us, around us…what’s a little more?”

The whole room seems to freeze as you peer at him, part curiosity, part doubt, part disbelief. “What are you suggesting?”

“I think you know,” he says softly. The warmth staring back at you is undeniably something you would die for.

“Say it.” Your whisper is said with the deepest conviction, awaiting the words that would cement your decision, perhaps a decision you won’t know until you hear the offer leave his lips.

“Let’s go,” he murmurs. “Let’s run.” His gaze is fixed on you, begging for this. He needs you—he needs you to be there for him so that he has a place in the galaxy, a place he would never have otherwise. “Please.”

Your breath shakes, just barely, contemplating, debating. There’s an inevitable weight to war, the kind that crushes people to pieces, and the temptation to run from such a force—it feels right. It feels right to be free, to live safer, to be with whom you want. “There’ll be sacrifices to make.”

“There’ll be sacrifices either way,” he insists, and you’re certain he’s right. “Darling….” His words fade off, and he surges forward, gently locking his lips with yours. It’s tender and pleading, the ultimate question asked once again through touch.

“Poe….” The way you say his name is filled with something decisive, something deliberate. The seconds pass. He waits. “Let’s go.”

..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::..

Taglist (for everything): @dark-academics-and-florals @theultimateslashgirl @princessxkenobi @djjarins @jitterbugs927 @whovianayesha | Taglist (for Poe): @synical-paradox @paper-n-ashes @spider-starry | This fic: @silkandribbons (i believed you expressed interest once; hope you don’t mind!) @spicemaidenfic (this just seems like your jam tbh)

If you’d like to be added to my taglist, let me know or do the form on my masterlist. If you’d like to be removed, don’t be afraid to ask!

Masterlist

Thanks for reading!

[lastwordsofafallenangel]

what is a spice runner???? is this code for a drug?? weapons? bc why does a guy that transports seasonings know how to hotwire a speeder??????

[winchesterxxi]

Maybe Poe and Skywalker reader being married to each other. Their life together, struggles and everything in between

(force awakens to rise of Skywalker)

WARNINGS: Non-canon content for the sake of the request; Focuses more on the Reader x Poe relationship, so many plot points are left untouched (as in, Reader doesn’t know Kylo is her brother)

THE FORCE AWAKENS

You were stationed in Jakku with your dad and Chewie when a girl and a guy board onto the ship;

“Who the hell are you?” you ask, you and your dad with blasters pointed out to them.

They throw they’re hands up and from behind them rolls out BB8 and you immediately drop to your knees.

“BB! Oh my God, where is Poe? We lost his TIE signal two hours ago, we’ve been worried sick!”

“You know Poe Dameron?” Finn asks you, lowering his hands.

“I’m Y/N Skywalker, his wife.” you eye him, only now noticing he is wearing your husband’s jacket “W-Where is my husband?”

That’s when he gives you the news of the crash and you latch onto your dad, crying.

Days later, on Takodana you are under an attack by the First Order and just as you thought there was no hope left, a fleet of X-Wings come in and save you.

After the fleet landed, you went to meet you mom, knowing that she was the Commander behind this offence against the First Order.

“It’s not me you have to thank honey.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your husband’s the one behind it this time.”

“My...?”

She just nods your head and cups your cheek, stroking your teary eyes, knowing how you’ve been grieving, thinking that Poe had died

“Go find your husband.”

You run past her and your dad to the the landing site trying to spot Poe in the crowd, heart beating hard in your chest

“POE?” “POE!?” you scream is name, trying to find him.

Then

“Y/N?” you stop in your tracks and turn around, spotting your husband.

Your run to him faster than you’ve ever ran until you crash into him in a tight hug, crying.

“I thought you - I thought you had -” you sniff between the tears.

He cups the sides of your face “I know, but I’m here, honey. I’m sorry to worry you. You’d never get rid of me so easily!” He smiles into the crashing kiss.

He helps you blast the FO’s base's thermal oscillator after you witness Kylo killing your father, tears stinging your eyes as you charge ahead.

Afterwards, him being your shoulder to cry on as you mourn your loss.

THE LAST JEDI

Flying alongside him on the dreadnought attack;

“Y/N, FIRE NOW!”

You do as you’re instructed, your shot igniting the explosives that had been set inside the dreadnought making it light up like the 4th of July

“THAT’S MY GIRL!” he shouts over the intercom

When back at the ship, reunited with your mother, you’re the one that spots the Star Destroyer in the radar grabbing Finn’s forearm, alerting him to the map.

“We need to jump to lightspeed!” he states running to your mom, awaiting clearance to do so, hot-headed as always.

“Poe, we can’t do that! We only have enough resources for one jump and if we do so, they’ll just track us again and be without fuel.”

You eye your mother, looking for some help.

“Permission to jump on an X-Wing and blow something up?” he addresses your mom.

“Poe w-” you start

“Permission granted!” your mom agrees as Poe darts running

“MOM!” 

“Go get on one as well.” she comes forward and kisses your forehead “You’re a team now.”

Just as you and Poe are about to reach the X-Wings, him slightly ahead of you the FO manages to blast the platform, sending him flying against you as you both crash to the ground.

He his also next to you when you spot your mother floating in space after the attack and he grips your hand tightly.

You insist on pushing her to the medical wing but he stops you before you can do it

“Poe, I need to be with my mom please.” you grip his arms, sobbing.

He kisses your forehead

“I’ll go with her, you stay here please.” you nod, teary eyed at him “Finn, take care of her for me while I’m gone”

*FASTFORWARD TO HOLDO’S EVACUATION PLAN*

You believe her plan won’t work either so you lead the mutiny alongside your husband

That is until he is stunned against the wall.

You throw yourself on your knees beside him, cradling his head.

Turning back you spot your mom, alive, holding the blaster

“MOM? WHAT THE HELL?”

“I know you love your husband but for once, just drag his ass out.”

You are holding his hand when he springs back to life.

“What - What happened?” he is shaken

“Poe I-”

He pushes past you running to the nearest window

“NO!” he slams on the glass and you come up behind him hand on his shoulder

“Honey,...” he shrugs his shoulder off, facing you, hurt tainting his face.

“Don’t... Call me that.”

“Poe...”

“No! I thought we were in this together!”

“This plan is gonna work, you have to trust me!”

“How can you ask me that after what you just did.”

First serious married fight... yay.

You look at him, biting your lip, tears in your eyes before walking away.

“Poe.” he turns around and finds your mom, calling him and that’s when she shows him Crait and explains him the full and he realizes he was just an asshole to the person he loved the most.

“Oh my god, I’m such an idiot.”

“Yes you are. Now go apologize to my daughter.”

“Yes ma’am.”

*Cue romantic, cute and awkward apology scene*

When the time comes to face the First Order he boards on a speeder and you on your father’s Falcon alongside Chewie

And of course you then help him lead your people out of the cave

THE RISE OF SKYWALKER

So...you’re kind of the captain of the Falcon

Despite Poe being an undeniably better pilot than you, he insisted that you were the rightful captain of the ship now that your dad was gone.

And he loved to call you captain

It made you smile every single time

Fastforward to Kijimi when Poe has a blaster pointed to his head

You are quick to point your own to the armored woman behind him

“Blaster off him, now.”

“She won’t ask twice, I would listen to her”

“Who are you?” you ask, blaster still up as she hadn’t let hers down

“Honey, this is Zorii. Zorii, this is my wife, Y/N”

Her helmet turns to you “Wife? There are actually people out there who go along with what you say.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised.” he retorts and you snap a look at him

“I could pull this trigger right now.” She says, pushing the blaster harder against Poe’s head.

“You do that, my blaster is the last thing you’ll see in this life.”

“We’re trying to find Babu Frik.” Poe tries to ease the situation

“He only works with the crew. That’s not you anymore.”

“What does she mean crew?” you ask him

“Oh your wife doesn’t know?”

you look between her and him confused

“Funny he never mentioned it...”

“Married people are still allowed secrets Zorii - “ he tries

“Your husband was a spice runner.”

Your eyes almost pop out of your eye sockets

“You were a spice runner? In almost 5 years of marriage NOT ONCE did it occur to you to mention that!?”

Once again, next to him when one of the stormtroopers blasts him in the arm inside the Star Destroyer

“POE!”

Standing in line next him, Chewie and Finn

“Were you ever going to tell me you were a spice runner?”

“You’re still on that?”

“OH I’M SORRY, IS THIS A BAD TIME?”

“IT KIND OF IS, YEAH!”

“Well, because later doesn’t really seem like an option right now -”

“You don’t say -”

“And if my husband has some other important life information before meeting me that I should be aware of, I would like to know becasue for all i know, you could’ve even been a stormtr--”

BAM

Troopers dead, you all alive

Hux admits to being the spy

“I KNEW IT” he points out

“No, you didn’t.”

 While on one of the Endor’s moon your mom uses her last breath to reach out to you trough the Force

You are a few feet behind Poe on the grass and fall to your knees with a thud

He looks over at you, face dropping as he runs in your direction

Your face is white and your look is blank and he is trying to shake your shoulders to gain some attention from you

“My mom...” You look up at him and he immediately understands, gulping hardly. He doesn’t say a word, simply pulling you into a crushing hug as you scream into the ground, tears running down.

Later, back at the resistance base, after you’ve said your goodbyes to your mom, Poe is the one sitting next to her linen-covered body

“I... I promise I’ll take care of her. Not just now, or in the near future, just... forever. I’ll stay by her side, always, Leia. Your daughter... Your daughter is the love of my life.”

After you defeat the First Order, during the celebrations Poe pulls you aside to a quiet place and tells you that he wants to settle down.

You agree with him, teary eyed, kiss kiss, you know the drill

BB8 beeps at your feet

POST TROS BONUS

The both of you settled on Yavin 4, his home planet

You are blessed with kids, first a baby boy and then a baby girl, 2 years apart

Who you name Kes and Leia, after Poe’s dad and Leia’s mom, who devoted their lives to the resistance and in one way or another were behind the reason your life path’s ever crossed

Poe cried like a baby when you told him you wanted your first born to be named Kes

Occasional visits form uncle Finn and uncle Chewie

When it’s just Finn, him and Poe tend to go out and do “guy stuff”

While you sit back at home with the kids and BB8 who loves to entertain them 

And it isn’t rare for sometimes you being sitting on a bench, watching the three of them play in the distance, head on Poe’s shoulder, his arms draped around your waist

And you look to the side to be met with the Force ghosts of your family members looking down at you

[waatermelon-sugaar]

Under My Skin: Chapter 1

Series masterlist

Word count = 4,6 k

Chapter Warnings = swearing, canon-typical violence, bad writing

Summary = You hate Poe Dameron. Simple, right?

Edit = Cross posted to AO3

Part 1 of 4 (I think)

Poe Dameron didn’t like you and you didn’t like Poe Dameron.

“Because!” You grouse to Rose as you make your way to the cantina, “he thinks he’s so much better than everyone else, no one could ever come close to his skills, and he always gets the best missions, and he’s good, but he’s not that good, he acts like he’s god's gift to women - no scratch that - to the galaxy, and he’s so arrogant!” You’re growling in frustration as you round the corner, suddenly lowering your voice as much as you can because Dameron is right there at the end of the corridor, deep in discussion with General Organa and Finn.

Rose’s only response is to whack you over the head as she walks through the swinging doors in the centre of the corridor. You’ve never been so glad you don’t have to walk past Dameron in your life. “What was that about?” You hiss as you catch up with Rose, grabbing your own tray and helping yourself to dinner. “You didn’t have to hit me in front of General Organa.” Rose snorts. “Yeah the General was the one you were worried about.”

Trays full, the two of you spot an empty booth and hurry towards it, sitting opposite each other. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You won’t shut up about Poe.” She jabs her fork at you, causing bits of potato to fall to the table. You can only gape, words escaping you momentarily.

Momentarily.

“What! I won’t - Dameron - he - he and I - urgh! - never in my life - he’s annoying!” You settle on finally, fully aware that you’re now whining. “He frustrates me!”

Rose raises an eyebrow, “Well maybe you need to work out those frustrations.” You shake your head, deciding to ignore her for now as you concentrate on eating. “You do need to get laid.”

You yelp, coughing when you try to swallow too quickly in shock. And then- “I can help with that, sweetheart.” You whip round, eyes narrowing when Dameron’s behind you, his flight suit tied around his waist, exposing his dirty vest and irritatingly strong arms. The only person who can beat him in arm wrestling is Finn - you can no longer count the amount of times he’s beaten you.

You take another scoop of dinner before talking with a full mouth. “Ok, one, I’m not your sweetheart, and two, Rose is wrong, and even if she was right, I definitely don’t need your help with-” you pause, swallow, and gesture vaguely in his general direction. “That.”

This, annoyingly, only seems to make him grin more. “That? You’re not gonna call it what it is?” You lean back, pulling your most unimpressed look onto your face, as he continues, still smirking, even having the audacity to wink at you. “Hot, animal sex.”

Rolling your eyes, you scoff, turning back to your dinner. “Whatever you say, Dameron.”

“Does it make you feel better, being mean to me?” Dameron asks as he squeezes onto the small piece of bench next to you. You huff, moving up so that you’re not touching. You don’t like him, but you’re not rude. 

Ignoring his question, you deflect. “Where’s Finn? Don’t you want to sit with him?” It takes more effort than it should to sound like you’re asking out of interest, and not because you want him to go away. Which you do.

“He’s still talking to Leia.” Your eyes flick to Rose, and she knows what you’re thinking. You twist your body to face Dameron, bringing a leg up under you. “Is this about the mission?” Her voice is low as she leans across the table, forgetting about the rest of her dinner.

The last few days have been hell. Rumours have been flying around base, centered around a box full of Jedi crystals. Kyber crystals, you’d told Rose the other day, not that the name cleared anything up. You’d poked around the base’s library on your datapad when you had the odd chance, but the Jedi were now the stuff of legend, just stories told to children about ‘the good old days’.  

The rumours made things worse - you’re not sure how much of it to believe - there were so few people who were even Force sensitive but as far as you were aware there were no Jedi left. Luke Skywalker was lost, and therefore probably dead. And even if Jedi did still exist, weren’t they supposed to be the good guys? Why hadn’t they come to help fight along with the Resistance?

But Dameron decides to play dumb. “What mission?” His eyes are too wide to be innocent and it annoys you. “Finn’s talking to Leia about…” he pauses, eyes desperately searching the cantina as he tries to think of a good excuse. “The quality of the food!” Turning to you, his eyes are intense. “I know you want more chocolate pudding.” You ignore how he knows that, instead focusing on glaring at him. “Dameron do you think I’m a good pilot?”

“Look,” he turns to face you, ignoring his own food even as you continue to eat, “it’s nothing to do with your skills as a pilot.” He pauses, but you interrupt before he can give you some empty platitude. “I think it is - otherwise why am I not being included?”

“Hey, will you listen,” he turns to you, poking his finger at you for emphasis. “This mission is top-secret and the risk of the First Order finding out is high so-” This time you properly interrupt, flicking his finger out of your personal space.

“So you just decide to talk about it in the corridor by the busy cantina, where everyone and their mother will see you?”

This shuts him up.

The two of you are looking into each other's faces, inches apart. And it’s annoying because Dameron is unfortunately handsome. Why? Why is he of all people so good looking? Rose coughs obnoxiously loud, causing the two of you to break eye contact and turn to look at her. You lean back from him, trying your best to look thoroughly unimpressed as he stands, picking up his tray and when he speaks, huffing, his voice is sharper than it was before.

“Look, I only came over to say that we’re going to have a mission briefing tomorrow at 6. Ok? So, just-” He leaves, mumbling the rest of the sentence under his breath as he walks across the cantina towards Rey, leaving you with your mouth hanging open, looking and feeling like an idiot.

“Well,” you say as you turn back to Rose. “That’s why I hate him.”

“You’ve got a mission, aren’t you pleased about that?” You can tell you’re annoying her now, but you roll your eyes. “Yeah, with Dameron. He’s just going to be hanging over my shoulder and passing judgement whenever he can. I’m not getting my hopes up.”

Every time you came back from a mission Dameron was there. Always. Just waiting to tell you what you should have done, how you should have flown, how he would have done it. As though the only reason he hadn’t done it was because he was too important.

You knew you didn’t fly how most people did, it had cost you marks in your final exams at school, and it cost you a place in a higher squadron, but it was hard to find the will to change when the poster boy for the Resistance saw nothing but incompetence when he looked at you. Bastard, you couldn’t help but think as you stabbed the last of your greens, wishing it was his face.

***

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

The mission had been going so well. You’d dropped into the planet’s upper atmosphere, bypassing the planet’s security, got inside the compound, obtained the uber-secret box (your briefing hadn’t quite covered what was inside, annoyingly) and you’d been about to sneak out when you’d decided a bit more snooping was necessary.

The box had been in the centre of a library/museum set-up and even you could tell that these were rare books. So you’d told Dameron to inspect the objects while you scanned the books, pulling out a few that caught your eye.

The first warning you had been given was a blaster grazing your arm, causing you to yelp in pain, dropping the books and duck to the floor as another shot had ripped through the shelves - an inch or two above where your head had been. So a crap shot then.

Paper had fluttered down around you as you looked for Dameron. The shelves would provide good cover but unfortunately it also meant you couldn’t see your shooter. Pulling your blaster out from its holder, you aimed a couple of returning shots into the darkness at the edges of the room as you looked for Dameron.

You found him near the exit, standing over a number of droids. He’d been holding the box with one arm, the other bleeding heavily, but you’d managed to escape, tangling with another droid who’d punched you as you left the way you came, avoiding the crap shooter on your way out. You didn’t want the First Order to know who’d been there.

So now you and Dameron were walking back to the ship, cutting through undergrowth as you desperately tried to remember the way, face throbbing in pain. Dameron had fallen quiet very quickly, and you were alarmed to see how much blood he had lost so far. His face was pale and all you could think was that it was your fault. If you hadn’t’ve tried to poke around and look for other useful bits and pieces, you would have got out with no trouble.

Oh shit.

You were definitely lost now. You’d taken a gamble on the last turn and this was wrong. There should be a stream somewhere to your left which led back to the ship. Where was it? This was so wrong. And how were you going to admit this to Dameron? “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You swore under your breath.

“What’s wrong?” Dameron’s voice wasn’t right. He’d lost a lot of his power, and you turned to face him, watching as a small drop of blood fell to the floor. You don’t want to say it, you know he’s going to hold this over your head later, your first truly important mission and you’ve fucked up so bad. “I -” you hesitate, mouth open, so unwilling to say it, especially to Poe, you have to force it out. “We’re lost...I don’t know the way back.”

And...oh god, you’re not going to start crying are you? You can feel the familiar burn on the back of your eyes so you blink, looking away from him. But Dameron starts struggling, using his injured arm to try and reach down, looking for something. You move closer, grabbing his wrist and forcing him to stop moving, to stop aggravating his injury. “What are you doing?” And your voice is mean and you don’t know why but his skin is cool, cooler than it should be causing your heart to skitter out of control.

Dameron looks up into your face and his eyes are a little unfocused. Shit. “Looking for a tracker - the ship -” His voice doesn’t sound normal. But you have to be the calm one, you have to be the one in charge so you push the panic down, trying to speak normally. “Where is it? You shouldn’t be using that arm.”

“In my pocket, I -” But you’re one step ahead, unceremoniously dropping his wrist and reaching in, pulling the tracker out. A thin disc with a central button, which you press, and a red light spins around the edge before settling a direction to your left, forcing you to turn about 45 degrees.

You set off, pushing through the undergrowth and snapping branches from trees, kicking any debris out of Poe’s path as he stumbles behind you. Panic is still rising in you, you can’t be the reason the Resistance’s best pilot dies. Oh fuck, oh fuck, fuckin’ motherfucker, please, please, plea-

You pause for a second, trying to get your breathing back under control, even as it skitters away from you. You glance back at Poe, who nods at you.

BB-8 is waiting back at the ship, preliminary checks before take-off having been completed. You help Poe lift into the co-pilot’s chair you’d been occupying earlier and squeezing into the pilot’s chair. You don’t remember the flight back, don’t remember dodging the planet’s security as you took off, all you remember is how pale and quiet Poe is. He watches you the whole way which would normally annoy you, but you don’t think his eyes are fully focused.

You’ve done better landings when you get back to the base, but you don’t really care, Poe’s breathing is different, you can’t stop the panic rising in you, and the second you’ve opened the door you’re yelling, voice already hoarse. “Medic! Medic! I need - I need a medic!” People swirl around you, when did they get here? But you don’t want to let go of Poe, one arm around his back, his uninjured one around your neck while you keep a tight hold of the box.

You fight as someone tries to unfurl your fingers, Poe’s weight disappearing and you’re crying now, hardly able to open your eyes. You don’t feel the sharp sting of the tranquilizer, instead blindly fighting the rising darkness inside you, unable to recognise it for what it is. Voices are all around you, muffled like you’re underwater and lights are appearing in bright spots above your head. You’re floating, falling backwards, further and further, until everything turns black.

***

The debrief was not fun.

Barely out of the medbay, you’d relayed to General Organa what had happened, how it had been your idea to stay back, how you’d got lost in the forest after, how you made a mess.

Due to your injuries, it had been just you and her, and even now, safely in your bunk, you couldn’t decide if that was better or worse than having to tell a whole command room. Sure, you’d been spared public humiliation, but at the cost of having General Organa’s full attention on your failure.

You’d pulled your curtain across your bunk, and you felt as though you might have to stay buried under your covers for at least a week to emotionally recover from the whole ordeal. The worst part of it was that General Organa hadn’t even seemed disappointed, or angry, just...like she expected it.

And Dameron was still in the medbay. It was coming up to 4 days later, but you’d maintained your distance, not sure your fragile heart could stand the pain of knowing his condition was your fault, no matter what anyone said.

You wanted to see him, to apologise, but at the same time the idea of facing him made you feel sick. It was your fault he was in the medbay, you should have prevented it. In fact, the only reason you even knew he was still in the medbay was because you assumed there would be some kind of announcement or celebration when he was better.

A knock on your door made you jump, and then frown, however the door began to open before you could respond which you supposed was kind of your fault, you should have locked it, now you were going to have to talk to someone-

And General Organa walks into the room.

You stand up so fast, you get a rush of blood to the head, your vision going black slightly at the edges. “General, I-” you start talking before you even know what you’re going to say, so shocked to see your hero in your room. Your eyes flick over to the mess of clothes you haven’t bothered to wash in the last week, tissues on the floor, half eaten snack bars and their wrappers littered around as you wished the room was a lot tidier.

“I wanted to check how you were getting on.” Her voice is soft, but still carries that familiar authority as she pulls out the chair from your desk and sits on it.

Your mind goes blank. General Organa...wanted to check...on you?

You manage to pull yourself together, sitting back down on your bed with a suddenly excellent posture. “Good, thank you General.” You can hardly look at her, it’s like she emits light, and it’s too bright, too much.

You’re hyper-aware of your every movement, this is the first time you’ve properly talked to her, you want her to like you, and oh my god she’s in your room? Her eyes never leave you, so you stare at your hands, fingers twisting in your lap. “Call me Leia.” She pauses, but it’s not enough time for the implications of that to sink in. “It’s understandable if you’re still feeling rough.” Oh stars you’re going to cry.

Your eyes are watery and you know looking down only increases the chances of them falling, but if you look up, she’ll see. “I wish I’d done things differently.” You say, and your voice sounds rough.

The room is swimming when you finally look up, but General Orga - Leia is smiling softly at you. “I think about every second of that mission and for every decision that I made, I wish, I wish I did the opposite thing.”

“Why?” The question is asked so simply, and there are so many answers, they crowd your mind. “You were successful, weren’t you?” Still you can only gape at her. Successful? Dameron is still in the medbay-

“I know what it’s like to blame yourself for a mission going sideways.” Leia continues, “But you retrieved the box, you’re both alive, Poe is healing well, the medics say the bleeding has stopped and his stomach is on the mend now.” His stomach? You frown, his stomach wasn’t injured, it was just his shoulder, but Leia mistakes your frown for further dissent.

“I know you think it was your fault because you said let’s stay behind, but what if you had found something important? And Poe agreed, didn’t he? It’s not just on you. You just have to learn when the risk is worth the reward.” With that, she stands, so you do too. “I’ll formally debrief the two of you together when Poe’s out of the medbay, but I thought you needed to know this.” You nod, unable to speak again, but this time for an entirely different reason.

It’s almost too late before you can speak again, Leia halfway out of the door, but she turns back when she hears your voice. “Thank you.” And you mean it. Leia didn’t say much, and nothing new, but she was right. The mission was technically a success. Things went wrong, but you were both alive.

Sitting back on your bed, you feel lighter, more like normal. And a part of that normality is annoyance towards a certain pilot. He was injured in his stomach? The more you think about it, the more a cold fury rises in you. Why wouldn’t he say? He was carrying that heavy box and - you let out a growl, surprisingly loud in the quiet room.

You make your way to the medbay, becoming angrier and angrier with each step. No wonder he had so much blood loss! How dare he not say anything! How could he not tell you? Did he not trust you?

You ignore the signs that tell you visiting hours are over, and maybe it’s the look in your eyes that stops any medics from reminding you as such when you march up to the front desk. “I need to see Poe Dameron, which room is he in?” You feel a tiny bit bad for being so demanding to an overworked medic, but you can’t think past how Poe Dameron lied to you.

You’re shaking as you walk to Dameron’s room, not bothering with pleasantries as you bang open the door. He’s lying in the bed, BB-8 charging in the corner and had you been calmer you would have noticed how Dameron jerked awake when you slammed his door shut. You ignore how he’s hooked up to various machines and drips, bandages covering his body.

“You were shot in the stomach?” Your voice is mean again.

Dameron just blinks groggily at you, a combination of drugs and tiredness, but you push down any pity, letting righteous anger flood your veins with fire. “What?” His voice is hoarse from misuse and sleep.

“You were shot in the stomach?” You repeat, keeping hold of that cold fury as you look down at his face. This extra minute is all Dameron needs to wake up properly and realise why you’re so upset. “No- just, just stabbed.”

“Just!” - and it’s like you’re watching yourself, no control over your actions and even to your own ears you sound hysterical, the volume of your voice rising.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You demand as he presses a button, lifting the top half of his bed up. Tears are once again pricking your eyes, but this time you will not be crying, so you wipe them away quickly, past caring.

“Because,” Dameron huffs, realising that's not a full sentence. “I don’t know - you...you had enough on your plate, I didn’t want to add to it.”

“You should have told me.” Your voice is dangerous now, your whole body thrumming with an unshakeable anger, even as you stand completely still. A strong undercurrent continues to carry you onwards in the conversation, and you know you’ll need to leave before it runs out. “You carried that box for fuck knows how long, and what? You were just hiding your injury? You just wanted to be a hero, or embarrass me?”

Dameron stays silent, glare heavy in his eyebrows. It’s too much, you want, you need answers.

“ANSWER ME!” You roar, lashing out in defence.

“I had to!” He’s shouting now too, pushing against the bed with his strong arm. “It was hard enough to snap you out of it when we were in the compound - I wasn’t going to add to it - I had to know you could fly us home!”

His words are like they punched you, a heavy exhalation, and it’s as though all the anger was tightly held in your lungs. “I flew us home.” Your voice sounds small as you take a step back. Dameron’s found the one chink in your armour again, just like he did when you first met, the one weak spot of your insecurity and smashed it to smithereens.

There’s silence in the medbay, pushing against your eardrums as though to emphasise just how the loud the two of you were. There’s a brief flicker of curiosity in the back of mind, wondering why the nurses haven’t intervened yet.

You can’t look at Dameron anymore, instead taking in the number of different machines he’s hooked up to, watching the drips, how his heart rate starts to lower as he forces himself to calm down. “So you didn’t trust me?” You don’t want the answer, but you can’t stop the words.

He takes his time answering again, but you still don’t look at him, hands playing behind your back with the hem of your jumper. “If you don’t trust me - you should have asked Leia to switch me out!” Shut up, shut up, shut up, why can’t you stop talking, you stupid-

“Maybe I should’ve!” His voice doesn’t change, there’s no difference in his heart beat, although it’s on the high side of normal, matching yours, but something changed. There’s a split in the room, a chasm separating the two of you that wasn’t there before.

“Well why didn’t you?”

“Because I felt sorry for you!” Your eyes snap up, looking at his face in terror. “I wanted to give you a chance! I didn’t think you’d fuck up like that.” If Dameron’s earlier words were a punch to your gut, these sent you sprawling. Short of an atomic blast inside you, any feeling left inside you was obliterated. Hot embarrassment crawls up your arms and you want Dameron to feel the same pain.

“Fuck you.”

The words hang there, each second an eon. Poe instantly regrets his words, knowing he’s gone too far. He opens his mouth to apologise, but the words don’t come.

Neither of you say anything, glares still spitting red-hot fire, when you suddenly want to leave. You don’t want to see Dameron’s face again, not for a long time. So you clench your jaw, throwing up your middle finger and slamming the door behind you.

***

Isolating yourself doesn’t seem quite so appealing once you’ve left the medbay, so instead you make your way to Rose’s room, grabbing a bottle of firewater from the cantina as you pass. You need a drink.

When you arrive, you’re not sure you want to talk about the recent shitstorm your life has recently become so the first words out of your mouth when Rose opens the door is- “Do you like Jannah?”

It’s a little mean of a conversation to spring on your friend, but you’re a lot of things, and blind is not one of them. You’ve seen how the two mechanics look at each other. Especially when they think the other won’t see. Holding up the bottle as a peace offering, Rose smirks at you before leaving her door open as an invitation.

Rose denies having a crush on Jannah as you work through the bottle, only conceding on the point that Jannah is very pretty. You’re probably a little too quick to agree, blaming it on the drink that’s currently making you feel like you’re floating a couple of inches above the ground.

Comfortable silence falls on the two of you as you sit there, the floor a little cold under you, leaning against Rose’s bed.

“I’ve been thinking-” Rose starts but you interrupt before she can get any further.

“Dangerous.”

Rose doesn’t dignify this with a response, instead waiting until you wave a hand at her to continue.

“We’ve got a coordinating day off next cycle, if you wanna go to Sanctuary III. They’ll have a festival then, I can’t remember which but it should be good fun.” You can tell she’s keen, so you’ll go with her, but you find it hard to inject any enthusiasm into your voice.

Rose picks up on this, sighing as she refills her glass. “Alright don’t seem too keen on the idea.”

Your shrug, not really wanting to talk about the real reason you can’t find any excitement. “Sorry. I’ll go with you. It’ll be fun.”

“What’s wrong?” Her voice is gentle, and her hand is on your arm, and it’s so reassuring, so warm, your skin sings under her palm.

You talk to your feet as you tell Rose what Dameron said. “-and he - it was horrible, Rose,” you sniffle, tears springing into your eyes again. “And I - we’ve never got on, he’s, y’know, annoying, we’re always bickering, but I just - I never thought that he actually - it’s my fault he’s injured, and maybe he does hate me and-”

You stop your tirade and for the first time, just let yourself cry and breathe for a second. Rose’s arm comes around your shoulder and you lean into it, slightly. “It’s fine - I mean I never liked him anyway, now I can just move straight into the dislike section, maybe even hate I dunno.”

“Ok you should know that that’s not healthy first of all.” Rose’s voice floats out from above your head. “Second, I’m sure he didn’t mean it, and anyway, who cares what he thinks? Leia thought you did well. And third, this is all the more reason to do something on our day off!”

You give a weak chuckle and nod. You spent the rest of the night, playing cards and chatting about lighter topics until both of your eyes start to burn and you make your way to bed.  

***

Thanks for reading! Reblogs and comments mean the world to me 🥰🥰🥰

Chapter 2

[constilationn]

Ready To Run 🌬

A/N: So I got this request at the beginning of the week and I've been working on it since then. I’m really not sure about this one guys, it’s a bit of a different style and it’s 6000 words because it took on a life of its own. (Sorry not Sorry) Anway, I’d love some feedback - please - but enjoy guys!

Rating: M

Warnings: Naughty words, sensitive subject - abuisve relationship 

Summary: This was the request I had: Reader is abused by parents or boyfriend and runs straight into the arms of Poe Dameron. 

@jacquelineprins this one’s for you 💓

You’re lost as you walk, turning the corner from the hanger and starting back towards the quarters in a quiet sort of daze because your arm’s throbbing underneath your jacket and you’re sure there’s blood by now, there must be. You want to look, you do, you want to see exactly what’s he done this time, what you’ll have to cover up from everyone else but you can’t bring yourself to lift the cuff of your jacket beyond the upper part of your wrist. You don’t want to make it real again because there’s a part of you that pretends it’s a dream whenever it happens, you can deal with it that way. You’re strong, of course you are, but there’s something about this that you just can’t handle. Either way, you have to pull up your sleeve and look. You have to.

You shouldn’t be surprised when you lift your sleeve, but you blanch anyway because your arm is red and sticky and the cuts go deep, almost like lashes of a whip. Your mind turns and turns and you’re wondering how you let this happen, because you were never the type of person to let someone else walk all over you, so what went wrong?

It’s your name on his lips that pulls you back, soft as he catches up to you in the hall, and you yank the sleeve of your jacket back down over your arm because he can’t see this, not now.

Poe Dameron catches your arm, pulls you closer to him and you try not to wince, letting a hiss of pain out between your teeth disguised by a smile as he grins back at you. He doesn’t know there’s anything wrong, he won’t know. No one will. It’s one of the policies, one of the stipulations of this relationship you’ve found yourself trapped in. No one finds out, not even Poe.

“Hey.” You make the first move, have to, so you don’t seem suspiciously quiet or upset or whatever it is you’re feeling right now because as it stands, you don’t even know. But you never do when it comes to this.

“Hey sweetheart,” sweetheart, that’ll come up later, you’re sure of it. It has before and for no good reason. Poe Dameron is a flirt, it’s a universally known fact and even if he felt anything towards you, the entire base knows your taken. It’s not an option anymore either because it’s like your property now. You live with him, with Charlie, share your quarters, share missions, share lives. Although it’s not really sharing, is it? Not when he acts like he owns you, parades you around like a prize and hurts you when you misbehave. It’s like you’re a dog, that’s probably the best way to describe it, rewarded when your good and punished when your bad. It’s hysterical, in another life you’d laugh and in another life still you’d punch the living daylights out of Charlie and tell him to never treat you like that again. But it’s not an option, not this time, and you’ve been beaten down so many times that you don’t stand a chance. Not anymore.

Poe clears his throat, polite just like always as he interrupts your stream of thoughts. “Can you do me a favor?”

Anything, you want to scream, I’ll do anything for you if you can get me out of here, away from this life. But you square your shoulders instead and ignore the wildness of your thoughts, muster another smile and paint into onto your face so it stays there even when he leaves. “Sure.”

You’re expecting him to say something about engineering, about fixing his ship just like always. You’re not expecting him to ask you to accompany him on a mission and you’re definitely not expecting him to tell you that you leave tonight. You know you’re staring at him like he’s got ten heads and you know you need to stop but you can’t because he’s just offered you an escape, he’s offered you an out and maybe, just maybe, this can be your salvation. This can be how you survive.

You can’t stop the grin that breaks across you face, but then again you don’t really try to. You resist the urge to jump into his arms because this is it, he’s given you a perfect chance to escape and, god, Poe Dameron has never looked so beautiful. “Please. Yes. I’d love to.” The words tumble from your lips and your grinning like an idiot but you don’t care, not anymore. You hug him then, you can’t help it, and the warmth you feel in his arms has nothing on Charlie who only ever lays a hand on you to hurt you.

“It’s nothing exciting, sweetheart,” Poe chuckles but he looks so fucking happy that you can’t bring yourself to care about the repeat of the nickname and you don’t let go of him, you can’t, not yet. “We’ll just be doing some surveillance, maybe blowing some stuff up.”

You nod, practically vibrating on the spot with this newfound energy. Your brain is going and going and going with endless possibilities and chances and opportunities. You want to kiss him, and not for the first time, but none of that matters at the moment. Nothing matters except you and Poe. Maybe you can tell him, maybe you can make a confession and beg him for help. He’s a good guy, he’s you’re friend so what’s stopping you? What’s fucking stopping you?

“Hey,” Fuck, does that voice make you freeze. It’s not a malicious one but accusation drips from Charlie’s tone and you feel your entire body just stop. Poe bristles next to you, crossing his arms because he doesn’t like the man, no one does and a lot of them question what a nice girl like you is doing with an arse like that. You couldn’t tell them even if you wanted to. You know what the punishment is for that.

“Charlie.” Your voice is weak, a pathetic attempt to seem excited and Poe quirks an eyebrow but says nothing. “Hey.”

You swear your heart stops when he walks towards you and it’s like this long, horrible drawn out thing until he reaches your side and Poe dutifully steps a little to the left so Charlie can throw an arm around your shoulder. It’s only been a few hours since you’ve seen him, since you landed back at the hangar after he’d decided to take his anger out on your arm. It’s only been a few hours of peace, of bliss, and you thought that maybe it could be enough. You’re wrong.

“I’ll see you later, sweetheart.” You try not to wince as Poe gave Charlie a nod and turns away. You let your eyes close as Charlie waits for Poe’s footsteps to fade completely. You know it’s coming so it shouldn’t surprise you as much as it does when Charlie rounds on you in the middle of the hall and lands a heavy slap on your cheek.

“Sweetheart?” It’s the way he says it, the way he relishes the word on his tongue and the look in his eye when you shrink away from him because he knows he’s got you and you can’t get away from him or his accusations because he was right there when Poe said it. “Sweetheart.” He pauses, considers and then nods with a definitive air, watching you with sharp eyes. You have no idea what move you’re supposed to make now, you don’t know what the right answer is.

You do know that when he takes hold of your arm, shakes it and drags you down the hallway to the quarters, you’d rather be anywhere else but here.

Charlie shoves the door open, let’s your arm go and pushes you into the room so roughly that you stumble and have to catch yourself against the metal foot of the bed. There are tears on your cheeks, falling to your lips and there’s salt and blood and you’re losing your bearings just a little. “Fuck.” It’s a weak word, falls from your lips as your arm hits the bed. Charlie smirks, like he’s pleased with his handiwork but you can’t fight him, can’t say a word. You know that. And so does he.

“Charlie.” You start but it’s not enough to get rid of that glare in his eye. Your attempt is weak anyway, it never would’ve worked but you had to try. You always have to try. Maybe that’s how you ended up here.

“Shut up.” His words are like fire, spitting all over you and you cower, you can’t help it. He looks absolutely murderousand you’ll know what’ll happen next. It’s nothing new, of course it isn’t, but the way you feel never goes away. This nervous flip of your stomach never goes away.

It wasn’t always like this. That’s what you tell yourself, that you’d made the right decision once upon a time and it’s not your fault that this is happening. Five years ago you were just a bright eyed pilot, looking to crush the First Order. Charlie was a technician, insisted he’d work on your ship and you fell for it. You fell for his good looks and his charm and the smile that you never see anymore. People had warned you, of course, but you didn’t listen to them. Hell, you didn’t listen to anyone back then. God you wished you had. Maybe none of this would’ve happened.

It’s been two years since the first time he hit you. You’d been laughing about something stupid, probably with Poe because back then you were happy. You’d felt his fingers dig into your thigh first and when you’d gotten back to your quarters, he’d hit you until your face burnt. You didn’t tell anyone, thought you could survive it because you’d never let anyone walk over you before and why should Charlie be any different? You were strong back then too, a fighter, and you were so sure you were strong enough to face it. You were so goddamn sure. But when he told you to never say a word, threatened you because it was your word against his and who would believe a stupid little girl, your world fucking crumbled. So you explained the injuries away and hid them but you didn’t say a word. Not once.  

And now you were trapped in your own personal hell.

Charlie gives you a smirk, a sick, twisted smile and stalks towards you from where you’re still learning heavily against the foot of the bed. “Let me see you arm.”

“No...no, I—“

“Let me see you arm.” His voice is deadly, words ripping through the room as he tilts his head and meets your eyes. “Sweetheart.”

It’s that word that makes your legs give out and your one the floor in a heap watching him when he crouches down but not doing a single fucking thing to stop him because what can you do? His fingers close around your wrist and you flinch, don’t try to hide it, as he pulls the jacket from your shoulder with his other hand and deposits it on the floor next to you. The cuff of your shirt reaches your wrist and Charlie’s gentle when he pulls it up, rolling it to your elbow and taking a sharp breath when he sees the mess of your arm. It’s worse than an hour ago, turned an ugly purple and red, darker blood dried across the top of the deep lashes that paint your arm. Charlie nods, eyes flicking from your eyes to your arm and all you can do is sit and watch as his fingertips run up and down your arm. “Jesus.” It’s his voice, a breath, and you snatch your arm away.

“Stop.” But he won’t, he takes your arm back with cold fingers and admires, fucking admires, the mess of your arm. You can’t remember the specific reason for this particular beating but you’re willing to bet it had something to do with Poe and the two of you on your mission. Charlie’s usually there, lurking in the back to keep an eye on you because god forbid you actually get rid of him for good. Maybe you were too comfortable with Poe, maybe you got cocky or maybe you said something stupid and Charlie didn’t like it. Whatever you’d done, he’d taken you aside on the mission and lashed your arm with his belt before giving you an affectionate little pat and telling you to run along. It was an almost comical exchange when you think about it. That doesn’t change the pain though. Nothing changes that.

“You want me to kiss it better?”

“No.” You whisper, trying to move your arm. “No.”

“Aw, c’mon.” His lips touch the deepest cut on your arm and you hiss, biting your lip so you don’t say anything, so you don’t make it worse. “Let me make you feel good.”

“No!” You shove him off, reaching for the bed to pull yourself up because your entire body is shaking and you’re not sure you can pull yourself up.

You back away from Charlie who’s sitting on the floor just staring at you and your back hits the wall as he stands up. “What the fuck,” and he’s back, stalking across the room, “was that?”

“I don’t...” your voice trembles, “I don’t want this anymore.” You can’t believe those word have just left your mouth, you can’t believe that you’re standing across from Charlie telling him that you don’t want him anymore.

When Charlie laughs, a chill runs through every single cell in your body. It’s like your blood freezes and you feel like you could just die on the spot. “What makes you think you get to make that decision.”

This, this is where you trip up because you haven’t rehearsed a speech, you’re not confident in your ability or hit him with the facts and logic. The truth is, you’re terrified, you are absolutely fucking terrified because you’re starting to realize there is no way out. It doesn’t matter how many missions you go on with Poe, how many escapes you think you’ve made. He will never let you go. You can’t believe it’s taken you this long to figure it out.

“Charlie,” he knows your about to beg, he can see it in your face. “Charlie, please. I can’t do this anymore.”

Charlie shakes his head, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Go on your little surveillance mission. We’ll talk about this later, sweetheart.” That’s all you need to hear. You snatch your jacket from the floor, throwing the door open and fleeing down the corridor. You hate how scared you are. You hate how you feel so small and weak and powerless every time you’re near him. Most of all, you hate him.

It’s quiet as you head back to the hangar, passing the canteen that’s bursting with people. That’s where Charlie will go, when he’s calmed down and hashed out a plan for later. He won’t let you go. He won’t take this little show of resistance at all. He’ll use it to break you, crush you even more until your nothing but a shell of what you used to be.

The hangars dark when you get there and you don’t see Poe standing there at first, too focused on the future, too focused on what Charlie will do to you. “Hey sweetheart.” Sweetheart, that name on his lips sounds so much sweeter than on Charlie’s but it makes your stomach flip. You look up to Poe, plastering a smile onto your face and Poe grins, pats the side of the ship and offers you his hand. “You ready?”

Yes! You want to scream, yes more than anything because you are ready, you’re ready to blow this place to shit and never, ever look back. But you can’t say that, you can’t say any of that so you shrug, “Sure,” and take his hand. It surprises you, how warm and soft his skin is, how light his touch is. You can’t help yourself when you compare Poe to Charlie. Even Poe’s hair, warm rich curls seem a thousand times better than Charlie’s stupid blond man-bun. But it’s the eyes, you think, that do it for you. Poe’s eyes are beautiful, so beautiful and you could get lost in them for days. You mother used to say that you can always tell a monster by his eyes and, oh, how right she’d been.

You slide into the seat next to Poe, careful, like you’re holding your breath as the dull hum of the engine starts beneath you. You feel Poe glance over, feel his eyes trace patterns across your cheek. “You can talk, you know.”

“I know.” God, how can your voice sound so small? Where have you gone; how have you lost yourself so spectacularly? You feel like a bomb, just ticking and ticking until one day it’ll all be too much and you’ll just explode and take out everything around you. Including yourself.

The ship breaks through the vines, soars up and you watch as Poe steers easily, marvel at the routine movements of his hands. It’ll just be surveillance tonight, making sure no one breaches the perimeter of the base. But you don’t mind. It gets you out, gets you away from Charlie and you have a suspicion that Poe knows that too.

“What happened to you?” You’re not expecting that. Of all the things Poe could’ve asked you, that would not have even been a guess.

“What do you mean?” He rolls his eyes, turning to face you and you raise an eyebrow, reply in a quiet voice. “Eyes on the sky, flyboy.”

He shakes his head, but there’s a smile on his lips. “You ever heard of command pilot?”

“Oh, clever.” You grin. “Dangerous though, isn’t it?”

“Stop changing the subject.”

You learn forward and quirk an eyebrow. “What subject would that be, exactly?” You want to hear him say it, you have to, because he must know what’s going on by now. He must.

“You know what I’m talking about.”  

It’s like you’re not even on the ship anymore. It’s just you and Poe and you’re starting to think that maybe you can trust him. He knows anyway, doesn’t he? Isn’t that what this has all boiled down to, the fact that he wants some sort of confession from you? There are tears in your eyes as you shift in your seat, watching the moons rise above the base. Poe doesn’t do anything, just waits. Finally you turn back to him and when you speak your voice is thick with tears. “I don’t think you know what you’re talking about.”

“Charlie.” And Poe’s voice is like ice. “Tell me about Charlie.”

“I...”

Poe reaches out, takes your hand and all you want to do is melt into him. “You can trust me.”

“I can’t.“

“Yes you can.” he gives your hand a squeeze, running his thumb along your skin and there are tears falling from your eyes too quickly to stop them. Poe coaxes it out of you, eventually, because it takes you a minute to trust him and realize that you’re safe with him; takes you a minute to realize you’re safe with someone.

You’re sniffing as you shrug your jacket off but Poe’s there, catching your tears on his thumb like they’re falling stars. He takes your jacket from you gently and you look up to him as he smiles, warm brown eyes locking on yours because he needs you to know that your safe. He needs you to know that he cares about you.

Your fingers shake when you touch your sleeve, you can see the material move as you drag it up over your arm and bunch it at the elbow. Poe stiffens beside you and he takes a sharp breath. Your arm looks like a slab of meat as you stare at it this time around; the skin angry. Tears fall fast and hot but Poe still doesn’t move until you try to roll your sleeve down and he catches your wrist with the lightest touch possibly because he won’t be the one to hurt you. He refuses.

He clears his throat and forces out one word. “When?”

It shouldn’t be so hard to tell him. You should be jumping at the opportunity because Poe figured it out by himself, you didn’t say a word so this isn’t your fault. You’ll doubt Charlie will see it that way but it’s too late now. He’s seen your arm, he’s seen your tears and he got the confession from you. “A few hours ago. On the mission.”

“What did he use?” Poe’s suspiciously calm but he hasn’t let go of you yet, linked your fingers together because you’re not alone in this anymore.

There’s no hesitation anymore. “His belt.”

“Sweetheart,” Poe dips his head. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You shake your head, cracking the smallest smile. “You really think that would work out for me?”

Poe shakes his head, anger rippling across his face as his jaw flexes. “I’ll kill him.”

“No!” Your voice is shrill, bordering on hysteria as panic explodes in the pit of your stomach and Poe cocks an eyebrow in confusion. “No, you can’t. You can’t. Charlie won’t...he won’t like it.”

“I don’t give a shit what he’ll like.” Poe pulls you from your seat into his so that you’re on his lap. “We’re in this together now, me and you. You’re not gonna do this alone anymore.”

It’s then you let yourself fall into Poe, let yourself sob into the crook of his neck because this means the world to you and he must know that. Poe keeps his hand in yours, uses his free hand to run his fingers through your hair and down your spine until you’ve pulled it together enough to sit up and wipe your eyes. “Poe, I...”

He nods, you don’t have to say anything else but the smile he gives you seems to light up the entire ship.

And then he kisses you.

You kiss him back almost instantly because you haven’t felt this way in so long. You haven’t been touched like this, lovedlike this in so long and Poe is like this beautiful breath of fresh air that’s swept into your life and now you’re a seeing clearly for the first time in what seems like forever.

You pull away after a few second, tears dry on your face but that doesn’t matter because Poe’s looking at you like you created the entire galaxy. You want to take Poe’s hand and walk back into the base and never think about Charlie again but it’s not that easy. It’ll never be that easy.

“You okay?” Poe’s voice has your knees weak in the best kind of way and you give a little chuckle.

“I’m better than okay.” You can feel yourself coming back to life, can feel that fire and that light that’s been buried depo beneath the surface this entire time. You hesitate, “I need your help.”

“Sweetheart, I’ll do anything you ask me.” He smiles but his eyes are dull, don’t shine like they usually do.

“What’s wrong?”

You’ve never seen Poe hesitate like this, his mind turning like he’s fighting with himself over what to say to you. “I’ve been...” he stops, clears his throat and corrects himself. “I am in love with you.” You think the world stops, just freezes, and you give a little shake of your head in disbelief. You open your mouth to reply but Poe cuts you off. “I’ve been in love with you since that mission in Naboo when you shot that Stormtrooper in the face and then took a bullet for me. I’ve been in love with you since you started to learn how to fly and you got so excited about it that you smacked  Lana in the face by accident and gave her a black eye.” He chuckles, mostly to himself, and you grin along with him. His smile fades a little then and he continues. “I saw it happen, y’know, with Charlie. Watching that fire in your eyes go out was the worst thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I...” you keep shaking you head because that’s the only thing you can do that makes sense. It’s confusing, it’s unexpected but it’s fucking wonderful because you love Poe too. It’s taken you a while to see, blinded by Charlie and all the pain he brought you but now you know. You think you’ve known since the time in the canteen when he threw a bunch of blueberries at you for calling him flyboy. You think you’ve known for a long time.

Poe gives a nervous chuckle, “You got anything to add, sweetheart?”  

The smile breaks across your face like the fucking sun and you pull him closer, kissing him again and again and again. “I love you too.”

“Thank God, could you imagine if you’d say something else, so—“ you cut him off with a kiss, laughing against his lips as he runs a thumb over your cheek. “You’re so beautiful.” He murmurs against your skin.

“You’re so cliché.” You reply but you’re laughing like you haven’t in months. “What are we gonna do?” You sigh, tugging on the ends of Poe’s curls as he swats your hand playfully. “I’ve gotta tell Charlie.”

“You don’t owe him anything.” Poe mumbles as he kisses your neck. “Fuck him.”

“Well—“

“Not literally.” Poe scoffs but his eyes are bright again, just like yours. “C’mon, we’ve gotta go.”

You haven’t even noticed that the base is coming back into view until the ship dips back below the vines and Poe lands the ship smoothly back in the hangar. You feel like your limbs are seizing up as Poe offers you his hand again and leads you from the cockpit. He’ll be waiting because you’ve been out on patrol too long and god forbid something happens to you that’s out of his control. Fear blooms through your chest and your heart hammers and you’re wondering how you got yourself here and why you couldn’t just stick it out for a little longer.

“What’s going on?” Poe murmurs as you turn the corner

“I can just tough it out.” you blurt, catching Poe’s wrist to stop him in his tracks. “I can tough it out, we both know that. There’s no reason to start anything. I don’t...I don’t need you to do this.”

“Sweetheart,” Poe sighs, “look what he’s done to you. You don’t need to stay with him, you don’t need to lie down and take this anymore.” He runs a hand through his hair as you wish for the ground to swallow you up. “But you’re not in this alone anymore. Everyone’s going to be on your side, I promise you that.”

It takes another minute of Poe convincing you for you to finally force one foot in front of the other, but when you do you feel as if nothing will stop your again. Poe’s right, he’s brainwashed you to make you think that being in this stupidly abusive relationship is okay. But he’s wrong, Charlie is so fucking wrong if he believes he can break you. You know who you are, now more than ever, you’ve ignited that fire that’s been desperate to burn for so long and your back, ripping through the restraints Charlie forced you into.

“I’m ready.” You nod, taking a breath because you’re not ready but it’s now or never. Poe nods, takes your hand and leads you down the hallway back to the quarters. As expected, Charlie stands in the hallway with his arms crossed and a bored, irritated expression that  sits easily on his face. You feel Poe’s thumb tracing small circles across your skin and notice as Charlie’s eyes lock on your hands. You learn over to Poe, a small smile lifting your lips. “Let’s not cause a scene.” You whisper.

Poe gives a mocking nod of his head. “No, let’s.” But you know he won’t. He’ll step back and he’ll let you say what you need to. He won’t take this moment away from you, not when he knows what it means.

“Back late, aren’t you?” You almost bail right there and then because Charlie’s eyes hold the murderous glare you’re so familiar with and he hasn’t stopped looking at your fingers, so delicately intertwined with Poe’s. You take a sharp breath, feel Poe’s grip tighten ever so slightly and take a step forward, eyes level with Charlie’s. He raises an eyebrow in amusement, like he can’t believe you’re going to say a word to him.

“We’re done.” It’s not exactly the way you pictured the delivery but the look of shock on Charlie’s face is as good as any and victory bubbles in the pit of your stomach. You take another step forward, breaking away from Poe’s hand and stepping up to Charlie. “This,” you motion between the two of you. “This is over.”

Charlie scoffs, “What makes you think you can do that?”

“What makes you think I can’t?” And, god, it feels so fucking god to stand up to him, to show him the warrior that you’ve been all along. “What makes you think I give a shit about you at all?” You’re words are ripping through the air now, deadly, stalking towards Charlie before they tear him to shreds. His jaw is slack, mouth open like he can’t believe what he’s hearing but you keep going. You can’t stop yourself because you deserve this and you’ll be damned if you let him walk away before you tear him apart. “You broke me.” You hiss, “you wanted me, you took me and then you fucking broke me. I haven’t been happy in two years,  do you know that? Fuck, I haven’t been myself in two years.”

You chance it, take another step forward and draw yourself up to full height so that you’re looking straight into his eyes. “W-wait.” God it feels good to hear him stammer, for him to be unsure in his own skin just like you’ve been for months and months.

“You don’t get to talk now.” Your voice cracks but it doesn’t matter, it won’t affect you. “You don’t get to say anything to me ever again. You understand that?”

“I—“

“Do you understand that?” Every single word that leaves your mouth is coated with malice.

Charlie nods once and his voice is so small. “Yes.”

“Get the fuck out of my sight.”

You watch him turn tail and hurry down the hall until he’s out of sight and you can finally breath again. Your stuck there for a little bit, just staring at the spot where Charlie had been standing and not fully believing a word that’s just come out of your mouth.

“Sweetheart,” Poe breaks you out of your daze and you stumble back into his arms, letting him whisper in your ear, and run his fingers through your hair. “You did it.” He murmurs. “Sweetheart, you fucking did it.”

And again, it’s your name on his lips that pulls you back and you lift your head from Poe’s chest, grinning when he kisses you. Because it’ll always be Poe that brings you back and reminds you who you are. It’ll always be Poe.

Every single time.