#literally just thinking about poe gives me butterflies

[fettuccin-e]

Hi! Congratulations on your 3k followers!!!

Can I request ❝  don’t be nervous,  i’ll guide you through it.  ❞ with Poe?

Ty!

hello!! first poe request AHHHHHHH (if you want a secret nonnie i actually have a 10k poe fic sitting in my wips wahhh) HOWEVER this will be the first poe content i've ever published!!! so thank you!!! i hope you like the little blurb :)

Tags: Poe Dameron x Reader, afab!fem!reader, phone sex (holovid sex?? same diff), mutual masturbation, fem!petnames, dirty talk lol who do you think i am (w/c: 897)

Find the prompts for the 3K Celebration here!

You sit across the bed, holovid propped up across from you, Poe projected from it. He’s been gone on a mission for so long, too fucking long, and you know that the desperation you feel for him is painfully mutual.

Of course, taking your clothes off for your boyfriend in person is far less intimidating than stripping for him in the emptiness of your bedroom as he watches from lightyears away.

You can’t help how you close your legs from his view as you sit across from him, still in your sleep shirt, and fiddle with your hands. Somehow, he seems to be opposite to you in nearly every way, wonderfully bare-chested, in his pajama bottoms and radiating pure confidence. He’s ethereal.

“Don’t be nervous, baby, I’ll guide you through it,” he croons, and fuck, his voice through your earpiece makes it seem like he’s right up against your ear. You shiver, visibly, and you watch a smug grin spread across his face. 

He already knows your answer, but you whisper out a faint, “Okay,” anyway.

“Alright sweetheart, spread those legs for me, yeah?” he murmurs, and you nod, just barely, before you spread yourself for him. He’s seen you naked before, he’s done much more than just see you, but this? This feels vulnerable in a way you’ve never felt before. It feels raw, the way Poe just stares at your slick cunt through the monitor, unabashed and hungry.

“Good girl, honey,” he says, and Maker, your pussy weeps at those words. You are good, you’re always good for him. “Go ahead and rub that perfect clit for me.” Your hand moves, faster than you meant it to, before Poe is murmuring, “Slow, baby, slow. Just like I do, right?” And it’s true. You bring your hand down to your aching clit, tracing over it slow, too fucking slow, just like your bastard of a lover always does.

You gasp. “Poe, it’s- I’m so wet,” you whine, almost shocked at how slick and achy your pussy is. Poe isn’t even here, and yet, your cunt gushes at the sight of him through the holovid, his voice crooning in your ear.

“Maker, I know, baby, I know. Look at you-” he groans as he pulls out his cock from his pajama pants, gripping the shaft in his strong hand. It should be you, that should be your hand. “Look so perfect for me, my sweet girl,” he murmurs, “one finger baby, go ahead and put one in.”

You nod, wordless and desperate, as you sink your middle finger inside yourself, pressing your thumb to your clit. You’re so empty, cold without his weight on your back, his thick fingers filling you up, his cock breaking you apart. “Need- need more,” you whine, high in the back of your throat, “please, Poe, ‘s not- it’s not enough.”

“Hey,” he coos, “‘s alright, honey. I’m gonna take care of you,” you watch, through lidded eyes, as he tugs on his cock, eyes trained on where your finger plunges relentlessly into your cunt. “Add another, baby,” he whispers, and you don’t waste any time doing just that.

Two quickly turns into three, your desperation for each other, the long nights spent apart, running your patience painfully thin. The tip of Poe’s cock is shiny and slick, and his chest heaves with every pass of his hand. Beautiful, he’s so fucking beautiful like this.

“Can’t wait to get home to you,” he groans, enthralled as you hump your hips into your hand, fucking yourself as deep as you can with just your three fingers. “Gonna- gonna keep you in bed for days, stars, baby, I’m going to fuck that beautiful pussy so fucking hard, the whole base will hear it.”

You hiccup as you moan, your body flushing with a heat that is both embarrassed and painfully aroused. Your cunt clenches around your furious fingers as you jackhammer them in and out of your heaving body, hanging onto every word that slips out of Poe’s mouth. “Poe- I can’t- I can’t, stars, I want to cum, please, please let me cum.”

Poe bulldozes on, pulling his hand back to spit on it, all lewd and primal, before furiously jerking his cock again. He’s so much rougher with himself than you are with him, rushing himself to the end so that he can tumble over the precipice with you.

“Maker, baby, so fucking- so fucking gorgeous, can’t wait to eat that pretty cunt, wanna taste you so bad right now, sweet girl.” He groans through gritted teeth, but he doesn’t tear his eyes from you, not for a moment. “Use that other hand, pretty girl, and rub your clit. Hard.”

You let your free hand fall to your clit, working yourself over as you keep fucking your fingers in and out. “Fuck-” you nearly scream with it, “‘m gonna cum, fuck, I’m gonna-”

“Cum, sweetheart,” he grits, and you sob as you clench around your fingers, rubbing hard circles into your clit with your other hand, as you watch Poe splatter cum over his hand through the holo. It’s intoxicating to watch, the way his eyes clench shut, his mouth gapes open. 

Your mind whirls with ideas of how you can get him to look like that again and again. As soon as he gets home to you.

[sunattacksthemoon]

5, 6, 10, 11, 20, 22 and 25

ask game

5. what would you be a god/goddess of and what would people sacrifice to you?

So I tried asking my my sister and mum bc I had no idea what to answer and that was the most excruciating conversation I have ever had with two people. So I’m on my own for this one. Honestly I’ve got no clue, I’ve thought about this for a good bit and I’ve come up with nothing. I keep coming back to something nature related, idk what but something to do with the forest and trees. For sacrifices or like things to put on my alter ig, I’d say willow tree branches and honeysuckle. Maybe fruits? Plums specifically, anddddd idk play me some music and I’ll be peachy.

6. name five iconic quotes that make you feel things.

I’ve actually got a list of these

“I am very interested and fascinated how everyone loves each other, but no one really likes each other.” The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky

“They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night.” - The Tell-Tale Heart by Edgar Allan Poe

“Loneliness flays the soul, doesn't it? Strips it piece-by-piece until it feels like there's nothing left to lose, and in a way, reaching that point can seem relieving.” - Best Friends Brother by bizarrestars

“As you wish” - The Princess Bride by William Goldman

“You are beautiful, but you are empty,” he went on. “One could not die for you. To be sure, an ordinary passerby would think that my rose looked just like you—the rose that belongs to me. But in herself alone she is more important than all the hundreds of you other roses: because it is she that I have watered; because it is she that I have put under the glass globe; because it is she that I have sheltered behind the screen; because it is for her that I have killed the caterpillars (except the two or three that we saved to become butterflies); because it is she that I have listened to, when she grumbled, or boasted, or ever sometimes when she said nothing. Because she is my rose.” - The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

10. describe yourself as if you were a storm.

I’d be a thunderstorm, no lightning and lots of rain. Lotsss of thunder tho. It would last for a good while but would eventually turn into just some light rain. I think I’d be a summer storm, like the ones in the middle of July, where it’s super hot and it’s misty.

11. what type of flower (other than a rose) would you offer someone you were trying to court?

Their favorite flower, idk I’ve never given anyone flowers before, like romantically. Every person I’ve been interested always said they didn’t like flowers. But I’m the type of person that wants people to like their gifts so I’ll just listen to people when they talk and if they mention liking something I’ll take note and get them gifts based off that. I want people to get use out of the things I get them. So gifts are always tailored to the people I give them too. That goes with flowers and other things like playlists.

20. tying your hair up using ribbon, yay or nay?

I wish, I have super thick hair but it’s pin fucking straight so every time I try to but a lil bow or clippy in my hair it falls out. Literal bane of my existence. But ideally in another life I’ll be able to have ribbons in my hair.

22. tell us, in detail, about a curse a witch would put on you.

Hmmmm idk I think it would be based on my fears or faults ig. So I’m thinking they would take my ability to speak. Idk what I did to deserve a curse but y’know shit happens.

25. favorite childhood story? (doesn’t have to be a fairy tale)

Alice in wonderland, I’ve got the white rabbit as a lil charm on my necklace. On the same chain as my moonstone. Both very sentimental things for me. I’d also say Calvin and Hobbes or Pooh bear. Goodnight moon but that was when I was really little, I also remember liking Shel Silverstein as well. Idk I know that a lot of little kids books made me unbelievably anxious. Or overall upset. Like when my mum read me the ugly duckling I was so sad. And Dr. Seuss was my enemy.

[no-droids]

Rumors, Freebies, and a Race for Last Place

Part Two of The Bet series

Pairing: Poe Dameron/Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 22.5K DONT say shit alright just don’t

Warnings: Okay. There is degradation in this, some name calling and heated interactions. There is a LOT of smut, dirty talk and rough sex. If these things offend you, please do not continue reading.

***

It’s recommended to read part one first.

***

Getting into the x-wings is always fun.

It actually might be your favorite part.  Granted, alarm bells ringing and thousands of jumpsuits scrambling in all directions is never typically a good thing, but there’s also an inherent rush about it, a thrill in launching up the metal paneling as quick as you can and suiting up to provide aid.  It’s a side-effect of camaraderie, of being surrounded by like-minded individuals willing to do everything they can to help.  You never feel like you’re going to your death, even though that’s often the grim reality for at least one of you on a good day.  There’s always a roaring in your ears while you do it, adrenaline sharpening your senses and preparing yourself for conflict, not thinking anything beyond gogogogogo—

But getting out of the x-wing is… not great.  At least for you.  It’s sluggish.  Your body is always completely drained and you never come out of it feeling the same way you went in.  Even in times of victory, there’s a somberness inside you after battle.  As much as you tell yourself you’re fighting for good, for prosperity against an evil machine hellbent on enslaving the galaxy, there’s only so many explosions lighting up in front of your eyes and screams cutting out through your comms you can take before winning just doesn’t really feel like winning anymore.  Most pilots are able to handle it better than you are, but since you joined the Resistance, you’ve never truly felt the desire to celebrate.  Not even when you serve a massive, glaring defeat to the other side.  There’ll always be at least one missing x-wing, one empty seat at the table, one person not here to celebrate with you.

You came back in one piece this time.  Barely.

The whole mission went sideways—literally.  You’d purposefully stationed the tandem just outside the coordinates you were meant to be surveilling so that you’d be hidden from sight and dead to the scanners should the fleet arrive, but something must’ve happened.  You must’ve powered down a few seconds too early after he turned the thrusters off, because apparently the ship drifted in dead space for close to eight hours without either of you noticing, having no working computers to actively read your location and correct it.  You were sitting ducks right in the hyperspace drop zone by the time the First Order showed up, and by that point you had no choice but to engage.

“Gold-Ten,” a voice murmurs from behind you, and you blink, suddenly seeing the base landing platform stretching out long in front of you, hundreds of docking ships and boisterous pilots scrambling out of them to hug their comrades and congratulate them even as medics rush past with white coats and gurneys.  They’re never for the pilots, but they dispatch healers anyways whenever a convoy returns in case a straggler gets picked up.  There’s an unspoken understanding in space battle—pilots never get injured.  They either come back unharmed, or they don’t come back at all.

Dameron.

You turn around and watch him slowly approach you with an unreadable expression, his jumpsuit still bunched halfway down his torso.  The once bright white sleeveless undershirt is now greasy and damp with sweat,  his dark curls sticking to his forehead.  He winces with every bow-legged step—you know the feeling—before he’s standing directly in front of you and something is carefully being pulled out of your hands.  You didn’t even realize you were holding onto anything.

Your helmet.  You forgot to leave it in the x-wing, and you’ve been carrying it around under your arm aimlessly while mentally checking off the squadrons as they return, counting the numbers you lost today while everybody else hugs and whoops and claps each other on the back.

It’s not as bad as you were expecting it was going to be, not as bad as it seemed just an hour earlier when you were listening to Dameron bellow out evasive flight maneuvers a millisecond before he enacted them and you adjusted your firing at the TIEs accordingly.  You used to think you were quick with how rapidly you could suit up and fly out, drop in to assist and engage, but on the other side, it felt like your reinforcements lollygagged for ages before arriving.  You were left to defend against an entire fleet in one stupid ship, more lines of TIEs sinking like flies from launch decks every second.

“Gold-Ten,” you hear again, and you blink a few times, needing to focus your vision before you can find his gaze.

Dameron’s palm, previously hovering a few inches above your shoulder, suddenly drops to spread along the curve of it and you take a deep breath, almost wanting to shudder at the feeling of something touching you.  You channel all your focus into it, feel his fingers branch out strong along the tight muscles in your neck, giving you an anchor you automatically lean into.

You and him are no strangers to touching.  Before today it was mostly reserved to poking and prodding and flicking and light slapping in an effort to piss each other off, but now… you can’t even think about it right now, your body will just fucking glitch out on you.  After everything that just happened, you cannot think about where else that hand has been recently, not right now.

“You did… you did really fucking good today,” he tells you quietly, slowly trailing his hand down the length of your entire arm until he catches your wrist and a few of your fingers in his loose grip.  “Seriously.  That was… we were…”

His touch is so present, so reassuring.  Grounding, when all your mind wants is to just float away.  You glance down at where his fingers are gently tangled with yours and you feel your hand tighten just slightly, the smallest squeeze while he blinks down at you.

“We almost died, like… every single second,” you barely manage to croak, not really having the words to express it right now.  You always need at least an hour or two after missions like this to just sit in one place and regroup.  Usually you find yourself wandering back to your room to lay on the bed and stare up at the ceiling while you consider your own mortality, but Dameron interrupted you this time before you could process it by yourself.  “We…”  Your voice sounds absolutely shredded.  “W-We shouldn’t even be alive right now.”

“I know,” he nods in soft agreement, taking a small step closer to you.  “But we are alive.  Hey.”  He dips his head as soon as your gaze starts to drift, catching your eyes once more and drawing your attention back to the present with a squeeze of your hand.  “We’re alive, right?  Be alive with me.”

You take a big breath in and close your eyes, feeling the oxygen fill your lungs once more, but this time, it’s… restorative.  A wonderful, beautiful reminder of your existence.  You’re alive.  Usually the word just feels like a synonym for persevering.  Pushing onwards despite trials and tribulations, not looking back.  But the way he says it, especially with his hand in yours and a quiet invitation to tag along, it sounds… breathtaking.  Full of light, and hope.  It suddenly leaves the dim shadows and slides into a completely different category of feelings, feelings you’d never imagine being able to conjure so quickly after such a close brush with death.  Alive—it slots right in next to words like colorful, radiant, sunshine, and butterflies.  Enchanting words, ones you’d like to hear again and again.

Your eyes slowly open and there he is, the man you were sure was going to accompany you to the afterlife.  You were stuck with Poe Dameron in one of the closest calls you can remember, and strangely, his presence was nothing if not… a comfort.  For the first time in your life, you were grateful he was there.

You open your mouth, suddenly feeling the needy, unfounded urge to tell him that.  “I’m gla—”

“Dameron!”  You hear a series of voices call from somewhere to your left, and he immediately drops your hand to whip his body around and place himself directly between you and the approaching onlookers, using his large frame to hide you from their sight.

“What’s up, Briggs?”  Dameron projects to one pilot in particular that seems to be leading the group, his back oddly close to you in this position.  Your fingers still feel tingly from where he was holding onto them.

A chorus of congratulatory, “Nice flying, Captain!” and the like can be heard floating through the air from beyond his shoulders, before the leader speaks loudly over them.  “Hey—me, Seven, Six, and Twelve were gonna grab some drinks in the mess hall with a few of the Blue girls,” he tells Dameron, slowing to a stop as soon as he sees you standing awkwardly behind him.  “Oh hey, Goldie.”

You lift a hand and clear the remainder of the dissociation from your throat, not knowing him well enough beyond the squadron he and his group fly with.  “Greenies.”

“Anyways, I guess they wanted to know if you’d come too.  These idiots are convinced they’re never gonna give us the time of day unless you—”

“Uh—fine, whatever, just give me a few minutes alright?”  Dameron quickly assures him with a dismissive wave of his hand.  “I’ll meet up with you guys later.”

A few of them take turns giving him heavy claps on the shoulder and acclamatory words before the group eventually disperses, and he waits a few more seconds for their attention to fully scatter in another direction before turning back to you.

Shit, he’s standing really close.  Why is he so close to you?  You take a step back and blink up at him, the noises of the landing deck gradually amplifying back up to normal volume as you retreat back into your own space.  Since when did he have that effect on you?  You suddenly feel wide awake, and the chorus of happy chaos surrounding you is something you’re finally able to take in.  You knew it was happening before, but it was like it just existed outside of the creeping numbness.  Now, the knot of internal turmoil has untied itself a bit and you feel your surroundings start to fight for your direct attention.

Dameron continues to look at you the same exact way, though.  Like you’re still the only one here.

You look down at his half-suited figure and blink at the helmet loosely held in one of his hands.  Hey.  Hey, that’s yours—

“Give me that,” you hiss, suddenly snatching it from his fingertips.  “You have people waiting.”

The cutting words serve to snap him out of whatever spell he’s under.  Dameron quickly lifts his head and looks around a few times with sharp eyes, before hooking your elbow and twisting you into a complete 180 until your back faces most of the excitement.  You resist, immediately trying to push him off you and worried he’s going to confront you about… things, but he’s determined.

He doesn’t say anything to you at all, though.  His fingers quickly grasp the baggy fabric of your jumpsuit even as you sputter and start to ask what the fuck he thinks he’s doing, and you glance down just in time to see him yanking the gaping velcro closed at your crotch.

Your cheeks instantly start burning as he tugs and smooths the fabric down until it’s seamless once more, especially when his eyes flick up to yours without moving his head.  Fuck, you’re instantly hot with some wicked emotion, a mixture of embarrassment and outrage and… something else.  Maker, you almost wish you were numb and disoriented again, if only so you could avoid feeling whatever the fuck this is.

You quite suddenly shove your helmet back into his stomach with an infuriated sound even as he doubles over with a shocked whoosh of air, changing your mind about returning it to the ship yourself before storming off without another word.

*** 

Okay, so you’ve done some thinking, and.  Well.  Fuck him, that’s what you’ve decided.

No—not… fuck him.  But like, fuck him.  You know.  In the negative sense of the word.  The bad fuck.

There’s a full tray of food sitting in front of you but you’ve so far been unable to touch it.  Mostly you’re just wondering why the fuck you’re even here.  Well, you know why you’re here—you should eat, it’s dinnertime and this is the mess hall.  You’ve been known to skip out on meals after heavy missions, secluding yourself away and just wallowing for a bit, but you… strangely didn’t feel like doing that today.  You don’t want to self-isolate when you feel okay enough to avoid it, not again.  So you’re here, because the clock says your tummy should want food, but you can’t bring yourself to even look at it.

No, you’re looking at him.  Glaring, actually.

Across the mess hall and beyond the transparisteel divider that separates the cafeteria from the bar area, Dameron is all eyebrows and smiles and side nudges and winks right now.  You can’t hear him—the sound won’t travel this far, but you can see him situated in the middle of a rowdy group of pilots.  He laughs in that disgustingly charming way of his, where his stupidly cute nose scrunches up all cute and stupid and you want to just ask the Maker why he’s doing this shit to you.  What have you done to deserve this torture?  Sure, you may have willingly agreed to it, even… conceived and propositioned the idea, and sure, absolutely nothing is stopping you from forfeiting and walking away at this exact second, but does that make it okay?  No, you’ve decided.  It’s not okay.  He’s not allowed to… to make you feel like this, so fuck him.  In the bad way.

“Just fuck him already,” a voice suddenly grumbles as someone plops down into the seat to your right, plastic trays of food clattering loudly on the table and snapping you out of your reverie.  Gold-Sixteen blocks your view as he silently drops into the seat in front of you and wraps his green lekku around his neck a few times before immediately beginning to shovel food into his mouth, while Gold-Three opens her box of blue milk next to you and continues.  “The Blues never fucking shut up about it, it’s getting annoying.”

“Don’t listen to her, Dime,” Gold-Eleven tells you, quickly occupying the seat on your left and biting into a crunchy piece of fruit, talking loudly over the chatter even as he chomps.  “Rossi just knows her pool is up tomorrow, she doesn’t want to lose any of her precious credits.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Gold-Three immediately snaps, leaning forward and around you to point the prongs of her fork at Eleven threateningly.  “Zhang’s pool starts on Sunday.”

“Oh fuck off, you guys are betting on this now?”  You groan, shoving your plate away with a flick of your fingers now that you’re certain you’ve completely lost your appetite.  Sixteen immediately snatches up one of your bread rolls while Zhang swipes your juice and Rossi goes for a packet of glockaw sauce.

“You’re the one who announced it in front of everybody, we’re just being active spectators,” Rossi returns, ripping the packet and pouring the sauce on her vegetables with a shrug.  “How the fuck do you bet against fucking each other though, that’s my question?  It’s a paradox, wouldn’t you both just lose at the same time?”

“Dameron and I aren’t going to fuck,” you tell her very slowly and clearly, starting to get a headache.  Why is it impossible to avoid this conversation topic, even with an entire Resistance base to roam around in?  “Ever.  The bet never had anything to do with fucking each other, it’s about not fucking other people.”

“Literally what is the difference?”  You hear Rossi ask with her mouth full, but Zhang speaks over her.

“Somebody should probably tell Nine that, she’s the bookie,” he tosses out carelessly, dropping the core of his piece of fruit to his tray before wiping his hands on his jumpsuit.  You bury your face in your hands and let out a loud, exhausted sound into your palms, not knowing which response serves to aggravate your already emotionally overloaded ass even more.  Nine is the bookie, of fucking course she is.  “But hey, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t think any of it actually goes outside of Gold, so.”

“I’ve heard the Blues talking about it, but that’s it,” Rossi chimes in while chewing some of her veggies.  “Maybe some Reds.  Point is everybody else thinks it’s already happening, honestly.”

“What the fuck,” you whisper, using your knuckles to rub at the backs of your eyes until bright spots appear.  Where are stress headaches localized?  Are those the ones right under your brow bone?  Because stars, you feel it.  “Fucking… why?  Why do people think that me and Dameron are…?”

Nobody at the table immediately responds, and you drop your hands after a moment to look at each of their astounded faces in turn.

“You fucking serious, bitch?”  Rossi blurts first, her voice completely deadpan, and you growl in vexation.

“Have I not been vocal enough about my severe dislik—”

“And yet you kicked Nine out of your room to let him bunk with you,” Zhang immediately suggests.

“You request mission assignments together,” Rossi adds.

“Spend your off-days together,” Zhang continues.

“You’re both really weird about how long it takes the other person to shower,” Rossi tacks onto the list Zhang is now making on his fingers and you shake your head frantically.

“No—no, that’s so that we know neither one of us is cheating,” you try to explain, and you already know it sounds unconvincing without needing the two quick, lofty and sarcastic nods on either side of you.  “Showers and off-days are prime masturb—no, you know what?  No.  I’m tired of the assumptions, I don’t owe anyone shit.  This is super fucking uncool of you guys, you know that?  It’s insane that this is what counts as gossip in the Resistance nowada—”

“There’s only so much bad news people can take, Ten,” Gold-Sixteen grunts down at his almost finished plate, and all three of you snap your gazes across the table at him.  The forest-tinted twi’lek doesn’t speak much, it’s uncommon to hear his voice without distortion over the comms, but you blink as his sharp teeth continue to form words without looking at you.  “Quit being so sensitive.  Rather bet on this shit than which system is getting demolished next.”

And with that, Sixteen excuses himself with a silent nod, having gobbled down his full plate while you, Three, and Eleven were bickering.  You feel your cheeks flare with anger and shame—you didn’t deserve that, you immediately reassure yourself, but the hidden self-doubt the comment sows just further contributes to your upset.  You want to call out to his back that just because the First Order exists doesn’t mean you have to put up with your own fucking squadron turning you and your mortal enemy into glorified race fathiers, but he’s already leaving the mess hall while Rossi and Zhang have moved on to other topics, both of them continuing to grab more food from your tray as they talk.

You have a tough shell.  But today was… a lot.  You bite your lip down at the table against the sudden wave of emotion, blinking quickly to clear the weakness watering your vision.

See, this—this right here is why you use last names.  These people aren’t your friends.  Betting on who you fuck for laughs, using you as a source of entertainment without your consent just because they’re in the middle of a war, and then guilting you into feeling like you’re the one acting like a stuck up bitch about it?  You’re fighting in the same fucking war—you’re on the front lines just like everybody else and nobody gets to lecture you on the devastation of battle.  You almost died today.  You fought tooth and fucking nail to stay alive and by all accounts, you shouldn’t even be sitting here right now, much less dealing with this childish shit.  This is your squadron.  These people are supposed to be the ones closest to you out of everyone, the ones you’ve been flying into chaos in formation with for years, and yet not a single damn person has even mentioned your performance to you today, all anyone can ever seem to talk about is—ugh.

Unfortunately, your unobstructed view also allows you to look at the source of your bad mood once more, immediately noticing the way more people have crowded around him now, and the headache continues to throb painfully behind your eyeballs.  You were in the same ship, does nobody realize that?  You were gunning, he was flying—you were offense, he was defense—that’s the only fucking difference, and yet, it’s like that side of the mess hall is just completely lit up with hearty laughter and music playing from someone’s holopad and congratulatory drinks being passed around, while yours is… well.

You continue to fume inwardly, struggling somewhere between bitter and hurt, and you can see your reflection through the transparisteel giving him a death glare, wondering how many of the people surrounding him have made bets with Nine.  How many of his little entourage have their money wagered on Dameron getting in your pants by a specific dat—

You stop short while staring at his handsome face, an infuriating, horrifying thought suddenly striking you.  No… no, he wouldn’t…

“Does he know?”  You immediately interrupt the chitchat between Three and Eleven to ask with a deadly edge in your voice, tipping your forehead at pretty boy.  Ooh, you can already feel it burning.  It would be so fucking typical.  Oooooh, Maker, if he’s heard even a fucking whisper about this outside wagering going on amongst the pilots, you will fucking smother his ass in his sleep tonight.  How could he not know?  With as many friends as he has?  If you’re just being made aware of it, then it’s a given that somebody has to have told him by now, which just means that it’s all the more possible—shit, even more likely—that he’s… participating, too.  You do your best to keep your voice even, but you can hear the quiet fury shaking in it.  “The bet about when me and him are gonna fuck, does he know about it?”

“Who—Dameron?”  Zhang turns his head.  “No, I don’t think s—”

“Yeah,” Rossi says at the exact same time, and your blood instantly turns ice cold as Zhang leans around you to blink at her stupidly.

“No.  Yeah?  What?”  He says, sounding genuinely confused.

“Yeah, remember?”  Rossi confirms with a shrug.  “Nine was mad as all shit, came at me in the rec room a few weeks ag—fucking Maker, Eleven, you were there.”

“Oh,” Zhang suddenly exhales, “yeah, that’s right.  Oh, yeah, Dime, he knows.”

You’re—fuck, you’re about to rampage.  You’re burning a fucking hole through Dameron while he converses animatedly with his numerous buddies, waving an open hand and shaking his head at someone with a smile and then gesturing broadly to this side of the transparisteel.  His pool is probably up soon, you figure.  That’s why he came onto you so strong earlier today.  He was going to get two weeks of your pay, plus whatever he must’ve offered up to Nine that says he’d get it to happen within a certain amount of time.  Perfect, your old roomie and the arch nemesis you stupidly agreed to trade her for, two asshole peas in an asshole pod.

“—she thought I was the one who told him—”  You know Rossi is still talking but you’re not actually hearing any of it.  Nobody has any fucking idea.  Nobody has any idea what he did to you today, how unbelievably close you were to… to actually…  “—was all just for fun, but then he had a few choice words for her and told his squad that if any of them had made a—”  You don’t know why you’re so surprised honestly, you should’ve expected…

Wait.

“Wait,” you suddenly blurt, and while she shuts up immediately, your mind starts whirling even faster.  Dameron had some… what?  “Wait.  Explain.  You’re saying he didn’t…”  You slowly shake your head, furrowing your eyebrows and trying to piece it together.  “He didn’t… place a bet with her, or anything?”

“What?  No,” Rossi shakes her head a lot more forcefully than you, getting frustrated.  “No, fucking—didn’t you hear anything I just said, Ten?  He got all high and mighty for some stupid reason, totally reamed her ass out for it.”

“But…”  You blink, stunned.  “But… why?  Why would he…?”

Rossi shrugs.  “Fuck if I know.  All she said was that he ordered Black not to throw in, made her lose a fuckton of money from it.  Had no idea Dameron would be so touchy about his sex life, honestly.”

He… he isn’t.  He isn’t touchy about his sex life—you feel like he never shuts up about it.

Rossi continues talking, but you’re not listening again.  You stare stupidly at yourself in the clear transparisteel as Dameron’s voice comes back to you, repeating something you specifically remember him saying earlier today.  Something you thought was just a careless jab at the time, aimed blindly at one of your comrades with nothing more than the intent to piss you off.

…I swapped housing assignments with your shitty roommate and slept in the bunk below yours for a month and a half… 

You blink beyond your own reflection to focus on him once more, still lost in his own little world, not paying a single lick of attention to you while you’re essentially having a fucking crisis over here.  You didn’t think the insult had any real substance to it at all.  You just naturally assumed that was the result of him wanting to lash out at anything or anyone remotely close to you, if only to get a reaction, so you never gave him one or paid it any mind.  

This is why he said that about Nine?  Because he knew she had organized this fucked up betting pool behind your back?

Stars, you need to get out of here, all these rumors are fucking with your head.  Your assumptions and the hairpin turnarounds are giving you worse whiplash than Dameron’s… well, admittedly spectacular flying today.  You were wrong about wanting to avoid isolating—in fact, that suddenly sounds like a phenomenal idea.

So, you just get up and leave right in the middle of Rossi’s sentence, needing some time alone.  Neither of them call out to you as you quickly walk around the table and through the barrier towards the exit, thank the Maker, and you’re just about to retreat with no interruptions until suddenly two Greenies step in front of you and block your path.

You halt immediately, looking up at them with a furrowed brow.  “What now?”  You grunt, not having the patience to even wait for a response before attempting to squeeze around them.

“Hey, so you really saved our asses out there today, Goldie,” the one on the left quickly sidesteps in front of you and rushes to say, and you settle your weight back on your heels with a huff.

“What are you talking about?”  You glance back and forth between them, not recalling a time you’ve ever spoken to either one, before jerking your head to gesture over your shoulder.  “Go congratulate trophy boy over there, he was the one flying.”

“We did,” the one on the right tips sideways to look at Dameron behind your shoulder, likely still laughing and joking with someone about something, something super fucking dumb probably.  “Well, uh.  We tried.”

“What?”  You let out a heavy sigh and rub your temples.  “The fuck is that supposed to mean?  I don’t have the time.”

“He won’t take any credit, just keeps saying that all he did was steer you around,” the other one shrugs as his companion straightens and looks down at you once more.  “Wouldn’t accept any drinks we offer him, nothing.  So we thought we’d buy you one instead.  Unless you’re… leaving?”

It takes you a few seconds to process that, even as he allows the open invitation to hang in the air.  You can’t stop the way your torso automatically twists around to study your copilot from across the mess hall in baffled silence, suddenly realizing that they’re… they’re right.  Dameron has no congratulatory drinks sitting in front of him even though more and more people have made their way into the bar.  He’s just sitting there grinning and nodding along to something someone else is saying, completely and blissfully unaware of the extent to which he’s fucked with you in the past twenty minutes.  The past… whole day.  Month and a half.  Or… fuck, how long have you known him?  Two years?

But then Dameron’s gaze gradually drifts this way, before suddenly locking with yours.  His eyes flick behind you to look at the two Greenies blocking your exit, and then back to the way you’re staring at him, wide-eyed and startled.

He suddenly stands up and starts to take a few steps towards you, and the sheer abruptness of the movement causes you to react immediately.  You stumble your way backwards through the two pilots, feeling a few hands reach out to steady you through the awkward fumbling, but you slap them away and announce loud enough for Dameron to hear beyond them that you’re taking a shower, and you don’t give a fuck how long it’s gonna be this time.

***

The knob squeaks as you turn the water on.  Usually you’d step back and wait the grueling five minutes or longer it takes for it to heat up with your arms crossed over your naked chest, but this time you move directly under the freezing spray, hoping to use the ice cold to shock your system.

You're finally alone.

Technically solitude doesn’t really exist within this base.  You’ve heard of others that are a little nicer, having a little more room for the ranks, but not here.  Housing assignments, showers and restrooms, mess and recreation halls—they’re all communal.  Everyone is given rotating shifts, so while that means there’s never any true quiet to be found, it also means that showers are spread out well throughout the day and night.

But, at least for this moment, there’s nobody else around.  At least in here, in the tiled chamber with multiple shower heads stationed around you—you’re sure there are a few girls lingering in the locker room and the entry area beyond it, but for right now, you’re blissfully by yourself.

And yet, you can’t seem to enjoy it.

You know you should be basking in the isolation.  You should be thrilled at the rarity of only hearing your own flipflops slap against the floor as you turn around and drench your hair with the icy spray, but the lack of an immediate distraction for your focus allows it to wander to things you don’t want it to.

Explosions, mostly.  Lighting up like fireworks in front of your eyes even as they flutter closed and let water drip down them.  Constant, never-ending.  Some of them small—TIEs you shot down, allies drawing fire away from you and then subsequently getting overwhelmed, zipping through dense debris from deadly collisions so quick that you had trouble distinguishing friend from foe.  Some of them were massive—star destroyers splitting apart, warp drives overloading, enormous casualty counts.  You don’t know how many lives you took today, not directly.

The beginning was the worst—when you were still slightly disoriented, when you were panicked and screaming into the comms for assistance.  Then the closest stationed tandem showed up first—Red-Two and Eight, you think it was.  Doesn’t matter now.  They took some heat off you before the cavalry arrived, but you remember Dameron barking out your name the second their left thruster got nicked and they started spiraling, a ferociously deep, “With me!” cutting through the white noise.  It was enough to snap you back, forcing you to instantly flick your eyes away and focus dead ahead without witnessing their demise.

It wouldn’t have normally been necessary.  You’ve been flying with the Resistance for years, you’ve seen way too much bloodshed by now.  But you’ve never been the catalyst of it—you’ve always been able to confront threats accompanied by your squadron, right between Nine and Eleven, the flight controls rumbling steady under your palms.  You’ve never faced down an entire fleet in one single ship.  You’ve never had to rely so directly on the skills of another pilot in order to stay alive.

The water slowly heats to a lukewarm while you reach for the shampoo.

Surprisingly, for as much as the two of you clash in normal interactions, it was like everything eventually became… synchronized.  Spectacularly so.  Dameron started off the enemy confrontation by calling out his flight patterns to give you a chance to adjust your firing in real time, but then at some point, it just stopped being necessary.  There was a moment where you both were able to suddenly… get it.  Get each other.  He didn’t have to say anything after that—you could predict each other without second guessing, react instantaneously, and work your way through the littered battlefield accordingly.  You never thought it would be possible to collaborate so well with someone you’ve spent ages despising.  Sure, you’d both die if you didn’t—shit, you’d probably still both die regardless—but this kind of teamwork extended beyond the need to survive.  It doesn’t matter how much you want to stay alive when reading someone else’s mind is physically impossible, but for some reason…  You have no idea why, but it apparently came naturally between you.  It fell to pure instinct, pure reaction, and remarkably, his would somehow match yours perfectly, every single time.

You lather the shampoo in your hair, remembering how his voice changed over the course of the mission.  How it gradually shifted from panicked roars and barked orders into ecstatic cheers and genuine praise after landing a difficult shot, how he just couldn’t seem to stop whooping.  

You smile softly as the tepid water rinses away the dirt and sweat from your body, until the temperature is brought up to a gentle, comfortable warmth raining down you and echoing in the empty shower room.

And, your first name.  Dameron kept calling you that, the whole time.  The one you’re now absolutely certain you’ve never personally given to him.  The one he would’ve had to have listened for specifically.  Remembered, or at least asked the right person about.  But why?  It’s not… it makes no sense, he doesn’t give a shit.  He’s notorious for not giving a shit.  He can’t even be bothered to remember the names of the girls he’s actually with—so why did he go to the trouble to figure out yours?  You’ve been nothing but a thorn in his side the same way he is to you, right?

Right?

Your mind starts recollecting more recent events, trying to work through and process it by yourself.  He was… singing your praises today.  He was openly giving you credit for the win while you pouted in the corner and assumed the absolute worst of him.  As much as you’re frustrated that nobody else seemed to give voice to your contributions, you’re even more surprised that he was the one who did.

And then even earlier.  Gold-Nine, holding wagers with members of your squad (and others, apparently) about when you’re going to fuck him.  Dameron, tearing her a new one for it, forbidding Black Squadron from throwing in and not attempting to hide his disdain for her from you.  He… he defended you.  Stood up for you when your own squad was being a bunch of dicks behind your back.  And nobody ever fucking mentioned it to you.  What did Rossi say—a few weeks ago?  He’s known all this time and only today, only after you… openly showed more interest in him than you ever have, after you worked up enough nerve to try in your own little way to flirt back this time instead of responding to his casual comments with contempt and disgust, only today is when he decided to make a real move on you.

…Your mind is completely blank and yet you still feel yourself start to heat up just a bit at even alluding to the events that took place earlier.  The way his fingers felt—

Steam begins to fill the open concept chamber while you shake your head against the train of thought and reach for the soap, beginning to circle the bar along your arms and shoulders with a sigh.  This is already the longest shower you’ve taken in almost two months, and your body slowly relaxes under the mist and heat as you take forever cleaning yourself, slowly and hypnotically rubbing the soap along your skin.

The second you let your eyelids dip shut at the feeling, you immediately shiver at a flash of Dameron dragging his finger out of his mouth and blinking dark eyes at you through the transparisteel.

Fuck.  The soap slips from your hand and you quickly catch it against your body before it falls to the ground completely, suddenly feeling the need to breathe in the misty air a bit harder.  Shower, you’re in the shower.  Come on.

The dirt and grime is scrubbed from your face and you tilt your head to move the bar of soap across your neck.  As it lathers, you can’t help but remember the way his lips felt against the skin right there, the scratch of his beard.  You keep working the soap against that same spot for a while, not knowing if you’re trying to wash away the sensation or simulate it, until you gradually slow and make it lighter, softer—yes, that’s closer to how it felt, that’s—

Soon the water is boiling hot and you’re trying not to boil along with it, remembering everything he said against this spot, the filth he whispered to you here.  Your pussy starts to throb between your legs as the memories play out in your mind, how close he got you to shattering bliss without even really working for it.  If you put it all together collectively, you don’t think he actually touched you for more than a minute or two total today.  Mostly he just talked to you, but stars, he hit buttons you didn’t even think you had, had you a split second away from cumming harder than Maker knows while his finger rested just above your clit and provided no stimulation whatsoever.

Fuck, you enjoyed it.  You did, you’ll admit it when there’s no one else here but you.  You enjoyed the fuck out of it.  You wish he’d do it again.  Force you to lose, force you to cum so you can at least blame him for it, remove your responsibility from the equation and allow you to put just one more thing on his shoulders, to taste ecstacy instead of expecting you to bear the weight of pretending you don’t need it any longer.  He was doing you a favor, you realize that now.  Your body is staging a fucking coup and you wish you could’ve called mercy before it got to this agonizing point.  He turns you on, you fucking admit it.  He inspires violent emotions in you—jealousy, arousal, anger, temptation—thoughts you don’t want to have and consolidating it all into various forms of hatred makes the finer details easier to ignore.  Your perception of him has always been skewed by your iron will, but he all but took a fucking sledgehammer to it today, dented it beyond all recognition.  You want him, you want to him to take it all away, you want him to fuck you—in the… fuck, in the good way.

You don’t have a thought beyond that.  Your hand quickly falls down the length of your body to wash your private parts, biting your lip as your hips slowly start to rock into it.  You’re getting clean, you’re getting clean, this is how you clean yourself, this is… yes, as long as you keep the bar of soap pressed between your palm and the top of your curls like this, you’re cleaning yourself and you can just… ease your finger down just a little bit and—

Flipflops suddenly echo from the twisting hallway leading to the tiled freshers, and you immediately snatch your hand back up again, not needing to turn around to know another girl is walking into the room.  A knob somewhere to your right eventually makes a dull squeak as you quickly finish washing up and turn your showerhead off, grabbing your towel and wrapping it around yourself.

Maker, you feel like your pussy is plotting your demise.  Fuck, you can’t believe you almost cheated in the fucking showers just now where literally anyone could walk in, you thought you would’ve had more self-control than that.  You make your way into the changing rooms and grab your pajamas, starting to tug them on without fully drying your body and having only one thought in mind.  

Dameron will probably be celebrating late tonight.  You can tuck in early, scurry back to your room and cheat there.

Well, no, not cheating, because you clearly remember making a very compelling argument about wet dreams earlier today.  Maker, a freebie, the word has never sounded so enticing.  What you’d say amounts to a… bye-week orgasm basically, since you know he’s already lost at least one match against his own body and you’re meant to be competing on the same level.  It’s only fair to let you persevere through the toughest part of the challenge if he was allowed to throw a game early on and still stay in the competition.  Maybe he threw multiple games, you never got a straight answer concerning that, so it’s still under review.  He could’ve thrown… three games, even.  Or four.

You dress as quickly as possible and then nearly bolt through the entrance area to the restrooms with all the sinks and stalls.  The balled up dirty clothes and wet towel in your arms allow you to hide the way your nipples are stiff and tender against your thin pajamas, and you can’t wait to climb into your bunk and take everything off under the covers.  You’ll be able to cum, at least once.  It’ll relieve so much stress, get rid of this nightmare headache, rip through your body like lightning and paralyze it until you can start over from square one and think like yourself again.

And, you’re just about to power walk your ass back to your quarters when a body nearly slams into yours as soon as you step foot outside the door, your shoulder jerking back just in time to avoid a collision.

A mechanic, you think.  You’re not exactly sure, you don’t hang out with too many of them—he’s Chiss and his glowing red eyes don’t even land on you as you gasp and sidestep him at the last second, but it’s not him that catches the majority of your attention.  He just exited the men’s room at the same time you left the women’s, and the door takes a moment to swing shut behind him.

You freeze.  It can’t be more than a few seconds—but it feels like everything slows down and it lasts a fucking eternity.

Dameron is standing at a sink in the far corner of the room, naked except for a towel identical to the one in your arms wrapped loosely around his waist.  He cradles the base of his own throat with one hand and gently drags a razor down the smooth contour of it with the other, his chin tilted up high and regal while his eyelids dip low to concentrate on his movements.  He glances down and holds the foamy blade under the running faucet, tapping it twice against porcelain before the door slides him out of frame.

I can shave, a low, silky murmur slowly fills your ears, heat swelling low and hot in your tummy.  Tonight, I’ll shave it off.  Make it nice and smooth for you.

You feel like your body is just a collection of rigid knots all tied together, and the one between your legs is the tightest it’s ever been.  Stars, on another day you’d say it feels like a bad cramp, even though you know your injection makes your period rare and like clockwork.  Regardless, the split second image makes you shudder and clamp up painfully, and you just stand there and stare at the closed door for a second, trying not to shake.

Fuck, this is so fucking… presumptuous of him.

Realistically, you know it could have absolutely nothing to do with you.  It’s his face—you’re not self-centered enough to have completely lost your concept of autonomy.  He can do whatever he wants to his body, and that includes facial hair, full stop.  You also know that he’s not being… obvious about it, no matter how much it feels that way to you.  He’s using the sink and mirror at the very end of the room, not any of the ones nearest to the door—but even if he was, it’s not like he could’ve planned for you to walk out at the exact moment the metal hinge was angled wide open.  He couldn’t possibly have intended for this, for you to see him doing this.  He wasn’t making a show, didn’t even notice you standing there.  You blame literally everything on him, or at least you always try your absolute best to—but this one…

It sends a hard shudder down your spine and you clutch the fabric in your arms tighter, trying not to drop it.  Fuck.  This is torture.  Fuck him.  Good and bad—both ways, all the ways he can be fucked, fuck him.  Your head is spinning, you’re sweating fresh out of the shower, you need to cum.  Maybe if you hurry, you can get that precious orgasm before he’s finished, because if Dameron is able to intercept you before you can tend to this, you’re… you’re not sure how you’re going to say no to him.

You don’t even think you want to anymore.  

You feel like you’re just… holding onto it on principle now.  Too stubborn and hardheaded to want change.  Too stuck in your own ways to recognize how much everything already has changed.

Somehow, you end up making your way back to your room, but the whole thing is a blur.  Your flipflops plap against your heels as you navigate through hallways as quick as you can, emptier than you’ve seen them in months.  You know most of the pilots are probably out celebrating in either the mess hall or rec room, but the thought doesn’t really presently register.  Almost nothing registers besides your continuous forward motion and the way you feel yourself throb with every step, aching for something you are going to get tonight.  Fuck, you are so attached to this orgasm now, it’s not going anywhere and neither are you.  You deserve this, you deserve some relief.  Come hell or highwater, it’s happening tonight.

As soon as you step into your room and slap your hand blindly against the wall panel to close the door behind you, you’re carelessly dropping the bundle of fabric to the floor and then shrugging out of your pajamas in the cool pitch darkness, having exactly one mission in mind.  You don’t bother with lights, with brushing your hair, with literally anything besides clamoring up the ladder to your top bunk and wiggling under the thin bedsheet, making sure to pull it up to your chin before your legs butterfly open.  The tip of your finger wets itself on your tongue and then you’re dropping it down and sliding it against your poor clit, the pleasure arcing and flaring so sharp and sensitive even from your touch that you have to give it just a second.

…No, no you don’t.  You don’t have to give it fucking anything.  You keep moving your finger hard and quick even as your hips naturally want to jerk away from it, shoving yourself through the sensitivity with gritted teeth and a ferocious will.

Fuck, how long do you think you have?  Was Dameron shaving pre or post-shower?  You can’t remember, all you know is he had a towel around his waist.  And that thin gold chain hanging down his neck.  Was his hair wet?  Fuck, why can’t you remember?  His chin and jaw were smooth as silk, you know that much.  Post-shower, then.  Probably.  Probably?

His chin and jaw were smooth as silk.  You keep getting stuck on that no matter how chaotically your thoughts whirl; they fling out in different directions at different velocities but all somehow manage to go in a perfect circle and end up at the same place you started.  His chin, his jaw, his mouth, his neck, his chin, his mouth, his jaw, his mouth, his mouth, his mouth—

You feel yourself start to clamp down and you speed up, chasing it.  The pleasure starts burning deep inside you, the fire slowly licking down your thighs and rising up into your abdomen, and then—

And then a series of quiet beeps from the hallway practically blare like alarm bells to your frantic mind.

You immediately stop moving your finger, snapping your legs tight together and flat to the mattress as soon as the door to your room shifts open and fluorescent light spills inside, and you feel like you could actually fucking cry right now.

All this edging is just a form of self-flagellation at this point.  You lay there and try not to make a sound, try not to tremble hard enough to shake the whole bunk with it, but even your breathing feels like it’s going to give you away.  Dameron, shirtless with his towel draped over his shoulder, slowly steps into the room and then pauses almost immediately, making your heart stutter for a second at what so blatantly caught his attention.

One quick glance down towards his feet confirms the simultaneous hope and fear—you left everything on the floor.  The towel, the dirty clothes, and your pajamas are strewn about haphazardly right where he needs to walk.

You know what it must look like to him.  A trail of clothes leading directly to an occupied bed isn’t exactly subtle, even though you didn’t necessarily intend it that way.  Still, what can you say?  Your hand is shoved in between your legs right now and you’re in your birthday suit under this thin sheet, what the fuck can you say to him?  Sorry Dameron, got too caught up with how stupid wet you get me that I left those there on accident on my way to cheat, but totally not because I lowkey want your help doing it.  Convincing, that’ll go over great.

Dameron slowly lifts his head to look at you.  Or, at least you think he does—the light from the open door behind him casts his body in a dark silhouette, but you know your face is perfectly illuminated for him right now.  Blinking down at him from the top bunk with your brows pulled up in the middle, wide-eyed and desperate and caught red-handed.  Fuck, you don’t know if he can see the way your knees are clamped tight together and your hand rests perfectly still against your pussy like this from the angle he’s at, but you know it has to be super fucking obvious either way.  You’re breaking the rules, you’re touching yourself, and you both know it.  You can’t lie, you can’t even sit up without confirming his very valid suspicion.  He can call the game at any point, but…

You watch his head fall back down to study the mess you left for him once more.  Fuck, are you positive that was an accident?  Normally you wouldn’t second guess anything about your own understanding of the interactions that occur between you and him, but—you’ve never done that before.  You’ve lived with roommates on this base for years, you don’t just… get naked before getting into bed, that’s bad form.  How are you going to get up in the morning without having your pajamas shoved near your feet while you sleep?  Wrap this thin bedsheet around yourself and scamper down the ladder until you can snatch them up from the floor, and then what?  Climb all the way back up just to wiggle the clothes on underneath the blanket before going back down again?  Maker, you fucked up, your pussy is plotting your fucking demise.

But then everything inside you pulls taut as Dameron suddenly decides to move.  Slowly, he leans down to catch your orange jumpsuit closest to his feet with a few fingers, before he stands upright and carefully begins folding the fabric without saying a single word to you.  Electricity buzzes through you as he very obviously takes his time with it, using nearly his whole armspan to lengthen and fold the sleeves while his chest and chin meet for support.  When he’s eventually satisfied with it, he takes a few steps toward the empty desk on your side of the room and then sets the neat rectangle of fabric atop it where you usually keep it.

You bite your lip and you can’t help it—you start to move your finger as he goes back to sort the pajamas you wore for barely two seconds from your dirty clothes, folding and putting away whatever is clean and then tossing the rest into the shared laundry basket that gets collected every week.  Somehow it makes you feel even more naked, seeing all your clothes be returned to their proper places, realizing that this is your base state now, this is what you’re going to wear tonight.  Nothing.  You left everything on the floor and trapped yourself up here, he’s simply shifting a pawn forward two spaces in kind now that you’ve made your first move.

You can feel yourself pulse threateningly against your own fingertip while he collects your wet towel and drapes it over your closet door to dry, and your breath comes louder through your nose while you bite back the noises you want to make, the way your movements so desperately want to speed up.  Your hand working the way you want it to under the white sheets would be too much, too revealing, but you don’t know how much longer you’ll be able to care.

But then of course, the asshole has to go and put away his towel and clothes, and you endure through the whole thing while pressing back and forth against your clit so hard and slow that your toes curl and pull the sheet tucked under your chin taut.  After that’s done, he makes his way over to the portshade above his desk and slowly slides it open a few inches, the light of three moons outside gradually filling the room.  However, when Dameron goes back to press a button on the wall panel and close the door to the hallway, you immediately see how much softer it is in here, how the artificial fluorescents have thankfully disappeared and the room illuminates more than it blinds, glows more than it beams.  He presses one more button as the lock inside the paneling slides into place.

You bite your bottom lip and try your best to hide the pleasure you’re building for yourself while he makes his way back to his desk, quietly swiping the radio off it and lowering the volume knob completely before he flips it on.  The noise slowly amplifies until you’re able to catch two distinct voices conversing in Huttese—it’s the only lingua franca that still broadcasts on this old technology in this part of the galaxy, but he’s already flipping through the stations in search of something specific.

If you were thinking straight, you may have actually recognized this for what it is, but you’re having trouble even processing the details of your general surroundings right now, your mind is lagging and too slow at reading between the lines.  Dameron’s doing exactly what he said he would do.  He laid it all out earlier for you in the x-wing, telling you exactly what he wanted plain as day, and now he’s checking the whole list off one by one.  The shade is open and the room is lit just enough to make him out, the door is locked, and he’s finding something to listen to.  Something quiet, and easy.

If you were thinking straight, you’d realize that there’s a much more obvious reason why he shaved his beard—you never told him the truth about how much you liked it.  You never tell him the truth.  You allow—even encourage him to think the sharp things you say to him are exactly how you feel.  He did it because he believed you.

Oh, but you’re not thinking straight.  Your thoughts are scattered and the only thing they can agree upon is how good this feels, even as your breathing starts to grow heavier, grow louder underneath the sound of the radio.  The thought stays right beneath your consciousness, tugging at your preoccupied mind.  You work your finger with just a little more verve now that he’s flipping through the stations, knowing he’s distracted by spinning the dial through intermittent white noise while different voices and songs fill the room for just a second at a time.

Your bed, his voice suddenly echoes through your thoughts, originating from your subconscious but almost sounding like it’s coming from the radio in your delirious mind.  I want you comfortable.

Fuck, the understanding finally clicks the second he flips to a slower song and you start to burn at the thought of what’s next.  The silent promise that his actions allude to.  You have the realization way too late but at least it still comes at all with the state you’re in.  Your hand slows down immediately, not even needing to consciously consider the choice between achieving orgasm through your finger or his mouth.  Still, it’s hard to stop touching yourself completely when it feels so fucking good to your deprived body.

Fuck, it’s barely been a few seconds since your realization and yet you immediately bristle in distress at how fucking long he’s taking.

So you open your mouth.  You’re desperate and needy and on the verge of something, and it comes out without thought.  You don’t think it’s loud enough for him to hear, but his head immediately lifts and looks unseeingly at the wall in front of him for a second, as if he’s questioning if he imagined it.  A soft melody plays on a bluesy guitar while you hiccup and wait, but he doesn’t move.

And then you say it again, higher and tighter in your throat, pitched up to an impatient, girlish whine.  “Poe…”

The radio is tossed onto the bottom bunk as soon as he spins around and walks towards the ladder, but it’s like your finger has a mind of its own the moment he disappears underneath your line of sight.  Your legs spasm against the mattress and you bite your lip, not caring about the frantic way your hand begins moving under the sheet as his muted footsteps climb up the rungs.

Your eyes snap to his as soon as you can see him beyond the railing at your feet, heaving himself up until everything above his waist is above you, too.  His pauses there and his lashes quickly dip to the shameless movements between your legs as you work yourself towards that approaching bliss, and then flick back to the way you’re biting your lip and looking at him so torn, wanting so badly to wait for it but not being able to right now.

Slowly, he begins to move forward, crawling his way up the mattress and over your body, noticeably careful with where he places his limbs.  You’re not hard to dodge, though—you’re like a rigid stick of desperation under him, knees and ankles still clamped tight together and your arms streamlined as close to your body as possible with tension as you keep rubbing your clit.  Not to mention the sheet is thin and shows your figure almost perfectly with how tight you’ve hooked it under your chin, only leaving the finest details to the imagination.

But then there starts to be a little strain against the fabric, an unspoken question he’s still bothering to ask even though you could’ve told him to fuck off ages ago.  Poe could yank the sheet down and flip your shit over and destroy you right now if he wanted—fuck, like you want him to do—but his face slowly appears in front of yours instead and his dark eyes search your features for answers.  The length of his chain dangles from his muscular neck and glows against his golden skin, his whole upper body stretched long and bare over you.

From the gradually increasing tightness pulling on the fabric, you expect the sheet to rip down your body as soon as you lift your chin and let that resistance go, but instead… stars, it’s slow.  Why is he going so fucking slow??  The bedsheet barely flutters down to your collarbone before he’s able to stop tugging on it so hard, and then he just gently inches the hem down from that point on.

Fuck—your eyes drop to his lips as he eventually reveals your shoulders and sternum to the room, and then lower to your cleavage while you let out a hushed whimper, praying he understands the extent of how vulnerable you’re allowing yourself to be.  You don’t do this often—and you definitely don’t do it with someone like him.  He’s the one who said you needed this, isn't he?  So why the fuck is he dragging out the anticipation?  Pretending like he doesn’t see the way you’re begging for help in the middle of another warzone that’s breaking out for the second time today?

Poe’s head drops down to give the contour of your neck a long drag of his tongue, slow and hot and wet, the sheet eventually dropping beneath your nipples and exposing them to the cool air.  You bite your lip and keep working yourself under the fabric even as it’s led down the length of your tummy, and you just get wetter and wetter feeling him mouth at your skin as the radio continues to play soft from the bottom bunk.  He follows the skin as it’s revealed, licking down from your collarbone and working with the increasing rate of your breathing.  His lips never feel like they vary in pressure, even as your chest heaves up and down and your lungs work hard for air.

His open mouth slowly drags down the curve of your breast and it makes your blood burn fire through your veins.  You nearly choke when your nipple is enveloped in soft heat, his tongue quickly fluttering up under the stiff peak and giving it to you so gently, contrasting so light and vernal with how brilliant and neon bright the need between your legs is.  Your hand starts to work quicker, and fuck—you can hear it now, your desperate movements audible over the shallow breaths and the sound of one song gradually fading into another below you.  You’re just too fucking wet and your pussy is smushed with how tight your legs are pressed together—the noise is unavoidable, and Poe’s knees are planted too close to either side of your thighs to spread them really at all.

Fuck, you knock against the resistance regardless to let him know what you want, but he doesn’t budge and it makes you just about lose your damn mind.  Does he have to make everything so fucking difficult?  You couldn’t close your legs earlier and now you can’t open them, and it’s like he’s able to take perfect advantage of each opposing position to prolong your torture.

But then his tongue leaves you even as his jaw opens just slightly, and that’s the only warning you get before his teeth graze your nipple with a sudden arc of sensation and you flare up all at once.

It’s a miracle and a curse that you’re able to stop at the very last second, your hand jerking away from your pussy and flexing into a fucking death claw on your thigh at how close you were, and you don’t know why.  Why did the fuck did you stop?  There’s nothing standing in your way right now, you’ve consciously given yourself express permission to cum, but still.  It must just be learned instinct at this point—hammered into your muscle memory for weeks on end to not allow the pleasure no matter what, especially when you’re this fucking close to it.

Nonetheless you garble out nonsense and cinch inwards on yourself to fight it off now that you’ve apparently decided against it.  There’s nothing worse than a half-assed orgasm, and you have to quickly summon the conviction behind your split second reaction before it’s too late and your body takes the pleasure any way it can get it.

Poe’s mouth releases your nipple at the way your whole spine suddenly hunches in and he drops his forehead to your chest, breathing heavy down the slope of your breast as you tremble and grapple for your sanity.

“Did you just cum?”  Is the first thing he says to you, his voice is so ragged and stony it’s practically gravel crunching as he speaks.

“N-n-no,” you quickly stammer at the ceiling, trying to remember how to breathe correctly.  Inhale, exhale—fuck, which one is inhale again, which one comes first?  Maker, does he need to call a fucking medic?  “Huhhhhalmost?”

Poe takes a deep breath and slowly releases it with a bassy and warm mmmm rumbling against your skin, so coarse but pleased enough to sound like melted chocolate dripping down your body.  The noise sends a violent shudder through you and it’s almost enough to knock you back to that edge again, even without your fingers assisting it.  

His head dips and the sheet pulls down even more, just below your belly button now, and you let out a quiet gasp in anticipation, nearly on the verge of begging him to keep moving downwards.  But when Poe’s eyes close and his mouth suddenly moves back up to open over your other nipple instead, your patience snaps.  

Fuck him, bad way.  This is your orgasm, you’re done waiting.

“I’m gonna cum,” you snarl furiously down at him, shoving your hand between your legs even as Poe’s lips quirk against your skin.  It’s not a warning, it’s a threat.  If he’s gonna be like this, he doesn’t get to share it with you.  It’s your orgasm, you’ll give it to yourself if he doesn’t give a shit about it.  “Thought you wanted it, guess not.”

You immediately feel his teeth again in response to your admittedly slightly bitchy comment and this time he lets your nipple roll just a bit between them, making you jerk at the sensation and quickly find your clit again.  Oh, you’re soaking fucking wet, you’re wet everywhere.  Slick and swollen and burning, and it’s not going to take much at all.  The sheet sticks to your overheated body and you can’t tell the difference between your sweat, his saliva, or wetness from between your legs—it all just feels damp and slippery as you gradually lose your bearings under his mouth.

“Fuck this, I’m gonna cum,” you breathe once more, possibly nothing more than a mindless reiteration but most likely just one last veiled plea for him to give you what you both want.  As if he can tell, Poe quickly lifts his mouth and suddenly the sheet is ripped the rest of the way down your naked body completely, sharp and frustrated, and then his lips brush against your elbow as it twitches, nipping the sensitive skin there.

“Brat,” he growls quietly against your forearm as he keeps dragging his lips down further, following the path it makes along your tummy.  “Just likes making shit difficult.”

“You’re the one—” you hiccup, trying to sound angry but just melting into a puddle at the tip of his tongue slowly trailing down your frantically moving wrist, “—you’re the… the o-one who… who…?”

But you’re already sprinting towards that edge, feeling him drop even lower and his hot breath fan against your fingers, and at this point you’re too far gone.  Poe gently kisses at your closed thighs, in perfect position and ready for you, but you can’t stop yourself anymore unless he makes you stop, and the longer he waits down there without grabbing your hand to replace it with something better the more you don’t give a shit about whether or not it’s going to happen.  You can feel the orgasm rising, you can feel your toes flex and everything start to lock down for the approaching tsunami.  You’re going to get it this time, you’re going to cum, you’re going to—

“This is—” you rasp, “—this is a f-free, a fffff-ffreeeeb—”

His tongue softly grazes your knuckle as it works.

And then there’s a moment.  A suspended moment that seems to go on forever, where you’re launched directly over that cliff and yet you still seem to be gaining altitude.  Where’s the drop?  You’re already cumming—you can feel it, there’s absolutely no fucking going back now, but it’s like your sheer desperation has so much momentum that your body tricks itself into believing there’s nothing to land on, no gravity to immediately rip you straight down to your demise.

You choke out his name and your back arches with it and that must be the signal, because Poe finally pulls your hand away and lets his chin dip, and then his jaw falls open and allows you just enough time to catch the glimmer of his pink tongue before it slides wet and slow through your swollen folds.

Heat.  It sears through your whole body with a wracked shudder, the slick glide over your clit as his eyes flutter closed, and within the very first second of feeling his mouth on you, you’re instantly cumming inside it.

There.  There’s the drop.

The burning erupts into molten chaos, crumpling your whole body on impact like an accordion, but he sinks all his weight down on your legs and forces you to endure it with everything below your waist pinned to the mattress.  It’s fucking mayhem.  You feel like your voice actually rips itself in half with the ragged cry of blinding relief, so enormous and soul wrenching in power that you couldn’t even hope to muffle it.  You can’t move your hips through it, you can’t stutter up to ride it out—you have to experience the whole thing with your lower body completely still while his tongue takes slow, gentle licks at your throbbing clit, only able to sit your shoulders up and slam them back down and grab his head as you endure.

You cum hard.  Fucking hard.  It’s daunting and explosive and utterly devastating in the havoc it wreaks, and just when you think you’ve seen the worst of it, it’s just so slow.  Creeping along and obliterating everything in its path, taking an eternity to pass because of how fucking big it is.

When you’re finally able to float back down into your own body again, the first thing you notice is how tight his hold is.  Poe’s arms are wrapped around your thighs to keep them pressed tight together and you can feel the wetness all the way down to your fucking knees as they tremble against each other.  Stars, what did he do to you?  You feel like you actually wet yourself, there’s way too much dampness on the mattress underneath you to feel anywhere close to normal for you.

His mouth eventually leaves you but his head doesn’t move, nothing else moves.  Even his hot breath feels like rough stimulation to your throbbing pussy.

And then Poe shifts and adjusts his body just enough, catching the backs of your knees and slowly spreading your legs up and apart like you wanted to do ages ago.  They feel like jelly, wobbly and unsteady even as his thumbs hook right under your knees and easily support most of their weight.  Your pussy is soon exposed completely, and his shoulders move down just before his head drops to lick the collection of wetness right from your entrance.  Fuck, he couldn’t get it from the previous angle your legs were at, just your clit at the very top—but this is deep and personal and you know he’s probably getting mouthfuls of how hard he just made you cum, using the tip of his tongue to scoop your arousal up and swallowing it quietly before going back for more.

“Poe,” you whisper, and he rumbles low in his throat in response without stopping.  This isn’t for you, this isn’t for your benefit right now.  Your pleasure receptors aren’t concentrated right here, just the physical evidence of them being overloaded just a few moments ago, but he stays for longer than necessary.  He keeps his mouth here far longer than you need to push past the throbbing sensitivity and start to crave the sensation again, forcing you to bite your lip to stop yourself from telling him to move back up just a couple inches.

So you seek it out instead, the lower part of your body clearly not listening to a damn thing your mind tells it right now.  Your hips drop and his velvet tongue catches your clit at the apex of its repetitive motion, and you gasp and rock upwards again as Poe groans and immediately rises with you to chase it.  He attaches to the swollen flesh and sucks at it gently for you, following your lead, letting your wet fingers comb his hair back from his face and clutch a good fistful of it as you plant your feet and slowly grind up into his mouth.

Fuck.  He was right.  You needed this.  Everything about it is heaven—endorphins pour off you in waves as you roll your hips against his face, and he lets you do it.  He’s not just pliant, he’s willing.  His tongue works diligently, his eyes close and he moans into your pussy, allowing you to tug his hair and fit to his mouth exactly how you want.

Oh, everything burns.  Everything smolders and sparks, because he’s always been so withholding and now he’s just going for it.  He’s reading your mind better than he did during the battle today, not necessarily submissive in his approach but… servicing.  Accommodating.  Finally giving in and putting real effort into helping you chase after another shot of ecstasy without being so stingy about it like before.

As soon as you feel another familiar swell of something deep down, your mouth is suddenly dropping open.

“How many—” your ragged voice comes out without thinking, and it takes so fucking long to actually attach the train of thought to its conduit of translation.  You swallow thickly and flex your fingers in his hair, tugging at him to ground yourself, trying to anchor yourself to the very thing that’s about to fling you into oblivion again.  “—fuck, how many times did you… how many fr-freebies do I—do I…”

Poe eases his chin back just enough to respond, and the slick sound his tongue makes leaving your clit makes you shudder and miss the wretched words at first.  “Mm.  Just the one.”

And then his tongue is already sliding back through your pussy by the time your eyes pop open in immediate panic, and your clit is in his mouth again as soon as yours drops to frantically contest.

But the words aren’t coming, it feels too fucking amazing.  Your jaw goes slack and your fingers tighten in his hair.  Maker almighty, the orgasm swells up so sharp and quick that you have to fucking kick him at the very last second to get away from it.  Thankfully Poe’s mouth abruptly leaves you with his oof of shock at your audacity, lifting his head as you snap your legs together and grit your teeth through your miserable retreat from ecstasy.  You don’t even notice the way your knee almost knocks into his jaw with it—you just focus on shamefully easing your way back down again from the platform overlooking bliss like you’re too afraid of the high-dive.  After a second, you actually have to turn on your side and rock yourself like a child as Poe slowly sits up with a grimace, lifting his arm to rub at his ribcage where your heel slammed into him.

You peek an eye open to watch him do it and oh no, it’s not a good plan.  He’s so… fucking hot.  Fuck.  He’s unbelievably good-looking—his hair curls and frames such handsome features, his body is lovely and warm and seeing his chest bare and up close like this makes you want to reach out and slowly drag your hand down the smooth curve of his side.  But then your gaze catches on the dark sweatpants tented shamelessly between his legs and how he’s glistening with perspiration, too, and how he tugs at the fabric covering his crotch and sighs softly, blinking down at you slow and intoxicated with lust.

You have to close your eyes and bury your face into the pillow because your body is latching onto anything to keep you within inches of that edge.  The mere sight of him is enough to make you worry for yourself.  You take deep breaths and do your best to tune his existence out entirely.  Just you, just you in your bed, trying desperately not to cum without even touching yourself.  You’re naked and curled up and there's no one here to look down at you with deep brown eyes, no one else breathing and especially not equally as loud as you are.  Just you, just you.

And, just when you think you might finally get to the point where you’re not teetering anymore, where you’re at least mostly certain that moving around and looking at things and just existing in general isn’t going to make you completely unravel hands-free at any moment, he has to fucking… go and be himself.

You peek up to see him staring down at you, dark and intimate and devouring, before his hand gently brushes down the curve of your hip.  “Maker, you are so fucking hot right now.  Was that a close one, pretty baby?”

Your hand snaps out to grab his wrist with a whimper and you don’t know if your intent is to stop him or just hang on for dear life, but your grip is weak and you shake and Poe takes the opportunity to grab a handful of your ass while you do absolutely fuck all to stop him.

“Mmmm.  Open your legs,” he murmurs, releasing your flesh just to give it a soft smack.  “You’re only making it worse like this.”

“What?  W-What do you—” you stammer, but Poe drags his hand down your thigh to catch one of your knees and pull it up without waiting for your babbled reply.  Both knees go with him, your pelvis wound too tight and frozen to do anything but rotate your whole entire body on your tailbone.

“You’re just adding more pressure by keeping them closed,” he explains, wiggling his fingers in between your knees to try and get enough of a grip to pry them apart.  “C’mon—open your legs, let yourself breathe.”

“Nnnnnnstop talking,” you groan, trying to slap at him, but he’s strong enough to force the movement regardless, levering your knees apart and then pushing them tight to the mattress.  And, though he would normally be right about it, you’re fighting your mind to get away from the orgasm just as much as you are your body.  The sudden exposure and the positioning and the way he automatically drops his gaze down at your needy pussy with his cock still hidden in his pants like that only serves to displace the cause instead of eliminating the effect.  Closing the door and opening a window, shifting the stimulation somewhere else but allowing it to throb steady and aching regardless.

“Much better,” he sighs lowly, digging his fingers into the sore muscles inside your thighs and you just keep your hands loosely attached to his wrists as he works.  “Fuck me, baby’s got such a pretty pussy doesn’t she?”

“Poe,” you wheeze up at him, hearing him rumble at the sight of your cunt contracting around nothing, probably shining and glistening with your desperation for him.  By this point, you’re worrying again.  You have no doubt whatsoever that he could talk you into cumming just like this, with your hands trembling and clutching at his wrists.  If he keeps murmuring filth while holding your legs open and staring at your pussy like this, you have no doubt you’ll find a way to get there somehow.

Thankfully, he seems to understand.  He goes quiet and just keeps massaging your sore muscles while you try not to writhe underneath him.  Stars, it’s like he’s genuinely doing what he can to take it easy on you and you’re still all kinds of fucked up about it, still frantic and desperate while all he’s doing is just squeezing your legs.

“Calm down,” he gruffs, but you can’t.  “You’re working yourself up, don’t—”

“Stop talki—” your ragged growl is cut off by your own hiccup as you quickly find the strength to shove at his hands, knowing they’re at least mostly to blame for your prolonged tightrope walk.  You can’t fucking think when he’s touching you, you become too hyper-aware of your own body, it feels too good in a way that’s hard to describe and impossible to explain.  Poe’s palms immediately listen and raise in front of him in surrender, his back lifting to give you space while you hide your face from him with shaky hands and gasp.  It’s pathetic and your legs are still held wide open and your fingers tremble hard enough to resemble a malfunction.

You just.  You need a hard reset.  You need that thirty seconds of complete idle, of figuring shit out on your own without an electric current running through you before you can start working properly again.  It can’t be rushed, it’s necessary when most people just want to power down and then right back up again.  The wires connecting your parts are all criss-crossed and tangled and sparks are lighting up at the slightest stimulus, you just need to experience absolutely nothing for thir—

“I’m sorry,” Poe murmurs, still staying in his own space but the gravelly voice shooting a bolt of lightning down your spine.  Thirty seconds, of course he couldn’t give you thirty fucking seconds.  “Fuck, you’re so hot, I’m sorry—”

“Please stop talking,” you beg him, your fingers curling against your face, “Maker, I—I don’t want to cum—”

“Fuck, I know, it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever fucki—”

You go to kick him again and even though it collides wrong and does nothing more than get your message across, the jostle is enough to knock you back from the approaching oblivion just slightly.  It serves to wake you up way more than it remotely hurts him, the equivalent of someone just smacking a piece of machinery and fixing the problem temporarily.

You heave an enormous breath and blink your eyes open behind your fingers, immediately locking with his.  Poe’s teeth are digging into his bottom lip but he’s mercifully silent, even when you drop your shaky hands down to your spread thighs and stay equally silent another full minute while you make the effort to right yourself.  After awhile though, you realize he must be taking cues from you, waiting for you to speak.

Only, you suddenly don’t know what to say.  You’re at a complete loss, looking up at him through your eyelashes in uncertainty now.  Something you’ve never been around him, even as your pussy is wide open for him to look at.  He hasn’t recently, though, you don’t think.  He’s just keeping his eyes on your face, watching you bite your lip and blink up at him while your mind whirls, the only sound that can be heard is the radio continuing to lull from the bottom bunk.

You wish he’d say something.  How come he’s choosing right now to listen to what you tell him to do?  You don’t… you don’t know what to say to him.  Why can’t you figure out something?  You fidget but then suddenly feel your expression lose all its struggle and just look… innocent.  Needing his help.

“Do you want me to leave?”  Poe eventually asks after another moment, tentative of breaking the silence, and you frantically shake your head before he’s even finished speaking.  Fuck, something drops in your stomach at how desperate you’re probably coming off right now, but you’re so lost and you know that’s at least one question you know the immediate answer to.

Poe tilts his head thoughtfully, slowly reaching a hand towards your thigh without removing his eyes from yours.  “Want me to make you cum again?”

You shake your head again, wide-eyed and worried.  He immediately pulls his hand back and blinks slowly at you.

“You want to be edged more?”  He asks lowly, and you shake your head vehemently for the third time.  Poe sighs and sits back, planting his palms to his thighs and pulling at the fabric of his pants in budding frustration, clearly tired of playing twenty questions.  “Well what do you want, baby?  You wanna just hang out?  That’s fine, I don’t care, but you gotta tell me.”

Fuck, he’s right, what do you want?  The only thing that’s standing in your way of feeling better, you soon realize.

“Want you to cum first,” you mumble, cheeks warming at how childish you sound.

“Not a fucking chance,” Poe immediately scoffs, crossing his arms over his bare chest.  “And pouting at me isn’t gonna help.”

“Why not?”  You breathe, dipping your gaze down his body.  “I can use my mouth.”

“I don’t—” he stops short, suddenly registering what you said and switching gears.  “You can—?”  Poe narrows his eyebrows and looks suspicious.  “You’ll let me… cum in it?”

“Okay,” you whisper in breathless agreement, sitting up and reaching for him, but Poe groans and pushes you back down on the mattress with a flattened palm against your shoulder like you just aced a test he was hoping you’d fail.

“Fuck whoever’s idea this was,” he grits darkly to himself while you arch up against his hold, wanting him to grab your tits but knowing it’s not a good idea right now.  “Maker, I’m so fucking hard—fuck whoever’s idea this was, making me turn that down—”

“You said,” you pant, licking your dry lips and blinking up at the ceiling, trying to control yourself, “before, you said that you’re… you’re not doing this for a bet, right?  So why not?”  Your voice goes softer when you flutter your gaze back at him, even though the accusation feels like it should be sharper if anything, since it comes from a very real place of distrust.  “Were you just… lying to me about that?”

“Fuck, come on,” Poe groans, his voice starting to waver as he shakes his head and squints one eye at you, exasperated.  “You don’t get it.  You can’t think of a single fucking reason I don’t wanna blow my load just yet?  Really?”

The sentence coupled with his rock solid hold on you skitters a thrill through your body and you automatically reach up to run your hand along his forearm.  He looks down at the caress and then back to your face and fuck, even you feel like you’re sending mixed signals right now.

“You could… fuck me,” you whisper, and Poe’s dark eyebrows pull up as his gaze falls down your naked body, nodding and digging his teeth into his bottom lip.  An agreement backed by so much unspoken desire that it looks like it almost hurts him just to hear you say it out loud.  “And we can just… see who cums first.”

“Yeah?”  He croaks, his eyes pinned between your open legs.  “Just say fuck it all and race for last place?  Okay.”

Your heart pounds, having just enough wherewithal to preemptively establish a safety net for yourself.  “And—and we can’t finish at the same time or we both lose.”

“Fuck,” Poe groans, reaching down to catch the hem of his sweatpants with his thumb and lifting his hips until his cock is exposed to the dim room.  “We can’t stop once we start, then, we’ll have to see it through.”

Except you don’t catch any of the last part because, uh.  Well, to sum up.  May the Maker have mercy on you all.

Just like that, the only thought in your mind is… you get it.  Okay, you get it.  He told you before that girls were only interested in him for his cock, and it actually… stars, it makes so much fucking sense now, you totally get it.  You thought maybe he was just boasting as a form of overcompensation at first—or, to put it another way you’ve probably used in conversation with him before, talking big talk but walking small walk.  Only now, you’re… humbled.  By a fucking dick, you’re humbled.

You haven’t seen more than a few of them in this context, so you know you’re not necessarily qualified to give an informed opinion, but heavens it’s a sight.  It’s thick and swollen and just a shade darker than his complexion and everything inside you rockets to attention as soon as he wraps his hand around it.  It’s big.  It fills his whole palm without much room to spare.  Far larger than what you’re used to, and you know that no matter how he fucks you with it, you’re gonna feel it tomorrow.  Next weekend, probably.

Your eyes must betray you, because Poe suddenly loosens his grip and breathes your name softly, causing you to flick your eyes back up to his.  You didn’t realize you were staring so openly.

“I’ll go slow,” he reassures you quietly, voice gentle and knowing.  The complete lack of sarcasm or aggression in his tone is enough to snap you back to yourself, knowing that can’t possibly be right.  He’s talking to you like he did when you stumbled your ass out of the x-wing today, when you were barely responsive and lost in dumb shock.  He doesn’t have to… be nice to you right now, like you’re still only moments away from losing it.  It’s offensive.

“I can handle it,” you harumph, widening your legs while Poe immediately suppresses a grin.

“'Course you can,” he sighs with the slightest note of fondness creeping into his voice, dropping his hips as he lines up at your entrance.  “And I’ll go slow anyways.”

You open your mouth to respond but at the first push of his head inside, you inhale sharply and your palm immediately shoots out to press against his chest on complete instinct.  The stab of pain is impossible to mask from your features and Poe instantly stops with a shaky breath, watching how your jaw drops at the intrusion and your face contorts.

“Ahh.  Shit…” he whispers as his head tips down, dark eyes clamping shut and his hold on you tightening.  “What—shit, what the fuck…”

“Keep going,” you growl out, even though you know you’re just making it more difficult on yourself.  You can take Poe’s cock, you can take it, he has absolutely nothing to brag about, it’s completely normal-sized—

His hips inch forwards and you gasp at the excruciating arc of sensation, slapping at him harder.

“Keep going,” you babble while locking your elbows and shoving him back, “fuck, keep going, keep going—”

“Baby,” Poe groans, wrenching one of your hands from his chest and bringing your wrist up to his mouth to kiss and breathe hot air on it, “baby, you gotta let me—”

He moves a little more and you cry out, jerking your hand back from his lips and knocking it hard against his chest before you even realize it.  Oh shit, you can’t handle it, you haven’t been fucked in so long—

“I’m sorry,” you choke out, trying to be nicer by flattening your palm but then immediately digging your nails in, “fuck, I’m sorry, it’s just—it’s been awhile since I—”

“Shit, I can tell,” he pants brokenly, his fingers dropping back down to flex hard on your hip.  “Hoooolyfuck, I can te—ah, fuck, it’s alright, it’s alright, just—nnnnnnshit, okay, just relax, don’t tense up too muuuh… much—”

His cock pushes deeper even as he keeps rambling through it and you feel yourself being rearranged to make room for the slow movement, giving way to a rich pleasure even as the discomfort increases.

Poe stops once more when your hands shove up against him, somehow simultaneously shakier and firmer than all the other times put together and a little more than half of him inside you at this point.  You’re so slick and hot between your legs that there’s no resistance besides the stretch, nothing to stop him from slamming home besides your weak hands trembling at his collarbone, but everything about the way he stays completely frozen for ages says he’s controlled and patient.

Everything except his face, you soon realize.

When your body is finally able to come to terms with the sensation and you blink up at him, Poe isn’t looking at you anymore.  He’s staring directly over your head at the wall, tangible regret manifesting itself in seething frustration marring his expression.  His eyebrows furrow and he scowls but all of it is silent and directed at himself, as if he’s asking why the fuck he actually agreed to do this.  You know then that it must be really fucking wet.  You know then that you must be just blazing hot and tighter than sin and as if in rhythmic agreement, his cock jumps inside you with each pounding rush of blood through it.  You can see the sweat beading at his hairline as he continues to ignore you for the moment, choosing instead to silently lament at the wall like it did something to mortally betray him.

You could… make this a sprint, something devious suddenly whispers to you.  He’s struggling through the pleasure and you can outlast.  From the severity of that look alone, you can put an end to it before it even starts.

Admittedly, you don’t even let the devil finish his damn sentence before you decide to take your own initiative.  You clamp down around him as hard as you can and Poe whips his attention down to you and punches out a curse that sounds like you wrenched the word from his throat before he was anywhere near ready for it.  It comes from somewhere high and defenseless in register and then quickly falls down into a growly pit as his hips automatically lurch forwards the rest of the way inside, hard, smacking into yours as you squeeze wickedly around him.

You keep squeezing through the sudden upward shove of bliss, you keep tightening up even though you’re making agonizing noises and your eyes clamp shut and it hurts.  But stars, it feels good, why does it feel so good when it hurts so bad?  It makes your throat scrape and your face twist up, but you can hear his cursing getting louder and more desperate so you still don’t relax your viselike hold around him.

“Stop it—” he snarls down at you rabidly, “—oh fuck, stop or you’ll make us both cu—”

Shit, he’s right.  You know he’s never been more right about anything as soon as his hips stutter and kick up to a full blown gallop in the middle of his furious scolding, and the sudden build of ecstasy is so fast and intense that you sob his name, not being able to loosen your muscles anymore as soon as it overtakes you.  But it’s like a closed circuit, you’re both recycling the same pleasure without knowing how to shut it off.  The harder you bear down on him, the faster his hips work, the vicious cycle compounding and circling and manifesting in the perfect typhoon within just a few tumultuous seconds.

But then suddenly he rips himself out of you with a gasp and it’s not a moment too soon, because both of you have to scramble and grab onto things to brace yourselves through the worst of it.  You choose the mattress and he chooses the railing, and through the searing discomfort and settling of the chaos that’s becoming more and more familiar to you as this exhausting day passes, you know you fucked up.  You underestimate his self control, time and time again.  But, exactly like earlier today, you feel a thrill skitter up your spine at how he’s going to respond to your brazen treachery in the face of a newly established truce.

“Fuck,” he jerks his head to spit the obscenity at you, sounding more pissed off than you’ve ever heard him, the shredded anger in his voice starting to burn through you.  “Fuckfuckfuuuuck—you make me so mad.  You make me so mad.  I wish I could fuck you right now, on Maker, I’d ruin you.  I’d wreck your shit until you learn and you’d deserve every single fucking second of it, you—”

He stops short and growls jagged sharp in frustration, but you can’t help yourself.

“Say it,” you whimper on a dare, feeling your heart pound.  The words quiver with an inexplicable sort of excitement as you dig your fingers into the mattress, wanting to hear his voice snarl the mysterious profanity.  “Say it.  ‘You…’—what?  Say it.”

Shock suddenly paints his previously tense expression blank, even though his pupils blow out and his chest heaves.  Your voice is too breathless, it’s too needy to sound nearly as antagonistic as you want.  

And then Maker, it’s as if the sheer control he’s clinging to serves to spark his vexation even more.  Mad that you would ask for something so enticing at a moment like this.  Your heart thunders as Poe nearly flashes up close to you and points a threatening finger at you.

“You’re not going to get what you want from me,” he snaps, quiet and furious.  “Not tonight.  I don’t give a shit, I told you I’d slow fuck you and now I’m gonna do it until you act right.”

“You’re an asshole—” you move to lift up onto your elbows, but his hand suddenly plants against your clavicle and shoves you back down flat on the mattress.

“Not even ten minutes after I make you cum and you’ve already got a fucking attitude problem again,” he shoots back, positioning his cock at your entrance with his other hand once more, and Maker you’re drowning between your legs.  His sharp rebuttal and the firm hold on the upper part of your chest makes it that much wetter, knowing you can’t do much more than lift your legs the way you need when he eases his way back inside.  

“P-Poe—” you gasp breathlessly, but it's like he doesn’t hear you.

His expression tenses and he shudders out a low growl.  “Fuck.  Tight little baby.  Rude little baby, just wants everything her way but doesn’t know how to behave herself.”

You have to bite your lip hard to hold back a whine when he’s completely sheathed and his hips connect to yours, and… shit.  You already feel it.  You already feel that simmering starting to take hold deep down once more, that monstrous second orgasm you’ve been fighting now digging its claws into you and licking the base of your spine with fire.  And, as if he can tell, his demeanor instantly changes.

“Uh, oh,” Poe murmurs quietly, equal parts lilting and baiting, slowly dragging his cock out and then starting up the laziest pace you’ve ever experienced with his hand still planted high on your sternum right below your collarbone.  “Can you feel it coming?  Fuck, I can,” he shudders.  “Already.  Fuck, you’re so wet, you’re so wet—wish you had let me eat you out mor—”

“You can’t c—umm,” you hiccup, grasping his wrist and writhing through the building ecstasy, and you don’t know who you’re talking to at this point.  Your other palm slaps at his shoulder with increasing urgency—fuck, he’s been fucking you for barely ten seconds and you’re already struggling to hold everything back.  Only, his hand quickly grabs yours and pins it to the mattress, his face dropping closer as he rolls his hips achingly slow.  You feel his back working with the steady pace, you see his neck flex as his cock drags so thick inside you, and then your gaze starts to lose focus a bit.  It slides up his throat as lazily as he’s augmenting your pleasure, following the contour of his smooth skin until it reaches his face.

And mercy, Poe’s tongue comes out to wet his lips and a dark curl hangs down his forehead, concentrating hard on fucking you steadily without giving into the same creeping euphoria you’re feeling, and you have to turn away and bite back a whimper at the metal railing when the image starts to burn you alive.

“No,” Poe gruffs and his hand slides up a few inches to frame your jaw, twisting until you face him directly once more.  “Right here, you stay right here with me.”

Your eyebrows pull up weakly and your eyes flick across his stunning features, the way he’s so present, so focused and determined while you’re starting to drift.  His skin is so smooth, so golden when his jawline used to be dark, and—

“I—” you choke, starting to lose it, “—I-I…”

“What is it, baby?”  Poe growls, staring down at you with unwavering, intense concentration.  “Tell me.  You gonna cum?”

“I…” you whimper, blinking at him slowly, “I… liked your… b-beard…”

Poe’s eyes, previously hardened and steadfast, suddenly go a bit dumb, a bit dazed.  After a second, his eyebrows lose all strain, his gaze turns warmer and he rolls his hips deeper—

But the swell begins to become the only thing you can comprehend—that and the fact that you should be fighting it.  You should be revolting against it, but now he’s looking so softly down at you and you can’t remember what could possibly be so bad about letting him take away all this ache and desperation again.  Let him continue to take it away, over and over and over until it’s nowhere to be found at all.

And then Poe leans down and kisses you.  And it’s… nothing like you’d expect.

It’s gentle.  It’s tender.  It goes on forever while he rocks into your soaking wet cunt, easing his throbbing cock in and out of you with such a smooth, repetitive motion that sends sparks of ecstasy down your spine at the apex of each thrust.  

You handle it silently.  At first.  You don’t audibly react to any of it, you force your voice to at least keep quiet if you can’t hide the pleasure from your face or body, but then true to fucking form, he has to go and ruin it all.  Poe uses his knees to scoot up just the slightest bit, and then his moan breaks through the absence of the desperate sounds you’ve been holding back as his tongue slowly slides into your mouth.

Your pussy flares, contracting painfully around his cock as it hits a spot that makes your legs shake against his sides.  Your eyes roll back as his soft tongue dips into your mouth and everything just gets tighter, and tighter.  Poe moans again and his hips push a little bit harder into yours on the next thrust, and it’s almost like a domino effect, except that doesn’t do it justice.  It doesn’t topple one by one, it doesn’t take any time at all for the beginning to reach the finish—it’s a house of cards, the whole thing collapses and crashes down in on itself all at once.

You cum.

You lose.  Fair and square.

You make a long, anguished whine into his mouth as you just start spasming, clutching hard at his shoulders and drenching his cock with it, your eyes squeezing shut as you cum so slow and fucking helpless around him.  Oh Maker, it’s fucking devastating, it feels even more destructive and powerful than the first one.  You pull and shove and claw at him equally, mouth slack as Poe tightens his hold and keeps tasting your whimpering cries, fitting his hips snug to yours as he slowly pushes you down through the debilitating ecstasy.  You sob in euphoric defeat and a low, bone-shattering groan of satisfaction rumbles through his chest in response, grinding his cock into you and holding it deep as your pussy convulses.

All those weeks of holding out, just to lose.  You had a freebie, he gave you an orgasm already and it was like a massive dose of spice to your deprived system—all it did was make your body want it more.  Even worse, your orgasm doesn’t immediately inspire one in Poe like a part of you hoped it would, if only so you could reasonably contest the validity of the outcome.  He’s able to ride out every twitch and flex as you shudder your way through it, continuing to lazily slide his tongue into your mouth while it’s held open and slack.  He tastes like you.  He tastes hot and slick and everything about your body feels the same way, damp and unbearably warm from your nape to your elbows to your cunt to the backs of your knees.

You lay there for what feels like a lifetime afterwards, powerless to the way your thighs tremble violently against his hips and letting the tip of his tongue slowly trace the bottom edge of your teeth while he firmly keeps his cock buried inside you.  It pulses thickly and you know he wants to cum, you can feel the tension pulling at his shoulders as he keeps perfectly still.  But then Poe shuffles his arms up until they’re braced around your head, using himself to box you in completely without moving his lips from yours.  His teeth close on your bottom lip as he inches his hard cock out long and aching from your sensitive channel, and then groans and goes back to the same exact dragging pace from before.

Your expression furrows, even as he keeps kissing you and the movement lights up your oversensitive nerves.  Fuck, you want him to speed up, it’s all the more shattering and viseral when he takes his time.  What is he doing?  What is he waiting for?

“Fuck me,” you whine against his lips, demanding a quicker pace.  You don’t know why he isn’t just letting loose on you now, giving into his body’s need to cum.  He’s aching for it, still rock hard inside of you.  “Come on, I already l-lost, just fuck m—”

“Told you before,” Poe whispers back, refusing to speed up.  He keeps his pace dragging and steadfast, no matter how much you work to entice him.  “Never… fuck.  Never gave a fuck about that stupid bet.  Suffer though.”

The complete lack of harshness in his tone sears through your nerve endings even though what he said wasn’t exactly nice.  You never thought hearing him tell you to suck it up could be delivered in a way that inspires so much arousal in you, but then his tongue is in your mouth again as his hips work slow and easy, and your eyes roll back at how… overwhelming it feels.  So intimate.  You’re completely surrounded by him, his forearms propped next to your head and his mouth on yours, and… Maker, there it is again.  Your body is so deprived that it’s already gearing up to go again.  He’s being lazy and you can’t fucking stand how it’s breaking you down.  Gradually, with incredible stamina and a patience you never expected from him.  When you first feel that pull, part of you still wants to pick up the other end and start a tug-of-war with the sensation.  You’ve been fighting for so long that your body almost doesn’t know any different, its automatic reaction is to resist.

A distraction, that’s what you need.  That’s what guys do to stop themselves from cumming too soon, right?  Fuck, think of something, think of…

—Poe, you can't think of anything but Poe.  Fuck.  His cock sinking deep, the way he tastes, how his fingers thread into the damp hair at your crown so you can feel him that much more, how you can hook his biceps with both hands and swirl your tongue around his while he fucks you open.  Your hips roll up with the pace and almost immediately stutter back down again, not sure if you can handle the wicked shot of oversensitivity—but then Poe groans and shifts up until his thighs are under your ass and he can curl you in more, lift your feet a bit more and make you feel smaller.  And—stars, the next thrust in is enough to nearly make you bite him on complete accident, an unexpected sound ripped from your throat as he keeps that specific angle.

Poe keeps going.  He keeps kissing you, keeps rocking into you.  He lets you claw at him, lets you grapple helplessly while his cock shreds molten hot euphoria deep inside you, and then everything tightens up again.

“Ah, fuck,” Poe breaks away and curses a whole few seconds before you descend into mindless chaos once more, garbling out broken syllables with the absense of his mouth keeping yours occupied.  Your voice crescendos and breaks at the same time you do, the pleasure arcing through you over and over and wringing you out repeatedly around his throbbing cock.  Poe’s lips quickly move forward and give your whole cheek an open kiss while your expression crumples with it.  Teeth drag down your skin as he moans hot air across your skin, his hips slowing to a complete stop with an obscenely slick sound.

You throb and clench around him and his lips are suddenly on yours again, his tongue sinking deep and dominating.  Your mouth is slack and all you can do is squeeze him through the bliss, scrape your fingernails down his back and hope it leaves a mark.

Eventually the tremors pass and you’re dead in the aftermath, you don’t have energy.  Your body is starting to acclimate to the slow orgasms and just let them steamroll you flat, fully accepting now that you can cum but still putting everything you have into it like every single one might be your last for a while.  You come back to yourself enough to feel Poe’s cock solid and achingly hard inside you, and your bottom lip is being tugged between his teeth.

And then he eases out and goes back to fucking you.  Same speed, same control.  

Your eyes nearly fucking cross.  “P-Poe—”

He immediately makes a noise of disapproval with his mouth closed, a nuh-uh but kept tight in his throat.  He doesn’t want to hear it, he’s not even letting you finish your thought.

You can’t take it, though, you didn’t think he was capable of this.  This is torturous in an entirely different way, overstimulating and shattering you with every thrust.

So, you think back to the one thing that got him to nearly snap earlier, the one time you really got to see that fire you love playing with.  Only now, you need that fire, you need him to take everything out on you.  Your floor muscles clamp down without warning and squeeze him as tight as possible, squeeze squeeze squeeze until you feel his hips stutter to a halt once more.  Your breath catches—fuck, is this gonna work?—but then Poe breaks away from your lips to drop his head and sink his teeth into your neck.

You nearly squeal at how careless he is about it—an animal that bites you lazily even though it sends sharp agony rocketing through you.  Again, your attempt at sabotage backfires spectacularly as a subsequent flare of pleasure swells up, and oh, that’s what you want, you want him to be mean—

“Please,” you whimper, hooking your ankles behind his back and locking down hard enough to make your toes curl.  Poe groans as you grab a fistful of his hair and tug at the way your skin pinches between his teeth—you know you’re gonna have a bite mark for a few days and it thrills you.  “Fuck, please, Poe—please just fuck me, please, I want you to fuck me until it hurts, fuck me the way we both nee—”

“You and me almost died today,” Poe grits into your neck, cutting off your desperate whimpers with a short growl.  “Maker, it was so close, I don’t think anybody has any f-fucking…”  His hips pull out and then spear deep and you choke, tightening and tightening.  “But—shit, we didn’t, we lived and now—oh fuck, now baby’s finally letting me fuck her and I’m not cutting it short, no matter how pretty she sounds asking.”

His words sound slurred against your neck and you can’t tell if it’s his delivery or your perception that’s lagging.  But when you feel Poe inch his cock out and start to slowly fuck you through the tightness, you let out a weak little whine and feel yourself drifting… somewhere else.  

Things subtly lose their clarity, your eyelashes dip and you stop talking because words won’t come.  You can’t tell if you’re staring at the ceiling or your eyelids or the back of your head, but Poe’s voice abruptly breaking through the silence makes you realize you don’t have a concept for time anymore.  You couldn’t tell him how long you’ve been floating, but you almost don’t understand what he’s saying at all and it takes you a remarkable delay to fully comprehend.  But judging from what he says, it sounds like it hasn’t been long.

“Shit, are you cumming again?”  He suddenly gasps into the crook of your neck and grinds his hips achingly hard into yours,  “O-Oh—fuck yeah, you are—baby’s cumming again—”

“P-Poe?”  You stutter and smack your hand against something, him maybe, not knowing literally anything else.  Not knowing what he’s talking about, not knowing where you are, not knowing your own name, “Poe—oh m-my… God—”

“Whhh—W-What—?”  You hear him breathe a split second before everything compresses down tight, and then it all shoves forward at once.  All of the buildup makes itself known the very moment it becomes too much to control, like a flash flood but the downpour happened miles away.  You think you might actually squeak this time, helplessly cry out like it hurts because stars, it does.  It hurts so fucking good, it spiders pure plasma through your entire body with rhythmic jolts and wipes your mind completely vacant.  Your shoulders shoot you up and knock your chin into something and you think you might be crying?  You don’t know anymore.  Your spine comes back down to the mattress like the damp fitted sheet covering it is made of pure ice—your body is overheated and you keep tensing and jerking back up until Poe forcefully pins you tight against it, growling filth under his breath as he slow fucks you through it.

You feel his hand dropping down between your bodies and you sob pitifully at the ceiling when the tip of his calloused finger brushes your clit.

***

You lose count.

It’s just… constant, there isn’t a point in keeping track anymore even if there happened to be the ability—which, nope.  Not even close.

He ruins you slowly.  Meticulously, with nothing more than steady, unwavering determination.  Every structure you built, he takes apart by hand instead of bulldozing it the way you beg him to when you find the words.  You’re certain you find them—you must find them at some point, but they’re interspaced between babbled gibberish and breathy whispers of his name.

Even though it’s slow—Maker, it’s so slow—you’ve never been so fucking exhausted.  He makes you give him everything and then he drains the reserves, the hidden ones you weren’t even aware existed.  He never goes fast enough; in fact, you think he’s actually slowed down over the unknown amount of time it’s been since you first called out his name and asked for this.  If you were in a frame of mind to notice, you’d probably realize he’s trying harder and harder to not cum, but in your wild headspace, it just feels like a prolonged punishment for you.  It still feels like he’s depriving you for his own pleasure, even though he’s actually depriving himself for yours.  But you always do manage to find some way to read things wrong with him.

Eventually, he begins to waver.  He stops talking so much, stops chastising you when you plead with him.  He hasn’t looked at you since he first kissed you—he’s either hidden his face in your neck or closed his eyes as his soft tongue slides across your bottom lip before dipping inside.

But then there comes a point where even you realize he’s struggling not to let go now, and in your faded traces of sanity, you hear your broken voice cut through the sounds of the soft radio.

“Y-Y-You—” you gasp, trembling under him, “—youneedtocum.  You need to—”

“No,” Poe grits against your chin, sounding shaky and weak no matter how sharp he makes his consonants.  “Fuck, not yet, I—I-I don’t want to yet.”

“Oh no,” you wheeze out, feeling the swell begin again, the familiar flicker of warning you get as his cock slowly rocks into you.  Maker, the pleasure is getting raw and painful even as your pussy is drowning his cock with it, allowing him to glide slow and deep into your sensitive channel and letting the sheer tightness of it be the only resistance your body puts up.  You can feel the wetness on your cheeks though, the tears of frustration gathering as your body prepares itself for yet another wave of attack.  “Oh no, ohhhhhnononononono—”

“I don’t want—” Poe gasps, his hips stuttering just a bit and one of his hands coming down to smack the pillow next to your head as he chokes, “—don’t want this to… e-end yet, I—”

Your next orgasm suddenly slams through you and Poe immediately rips himself out of you before it’s too late.  He shushes you frantically while you sob in distress and writhe side to side through the contractions solo this time, having nothing to clamp down on, not even able to grind up into him because he keeps his leaking cock elevated far beyond your reach.

Oh, that’s it.  That is it.

“Fuck me!”  You wail up at him, water blurring your vision and tears streaming down your cheeks, “Stop fucking around and just fuck me, you asshole!  Fuck me and fuck me hard Dameron or I swear to every fucking star in the sk—”

You don’t get too far.  He’s immediately scrambling over top of you and a strong hand is clamping down tight over your mouth, muffling your high-pitched cries against his palm.  Your legs are shoved apart and one is caught under his arm and wedged back as far as it can go.  His head drops to your neck, and then he snarls a ragged, “Brat—“ under your ear before ramming his cock back inside you.

Stars.  Stars light up, it’s so much—the angle, the force, the speed, the sound his hips make as they start ruthlessly colliding with yours.  Your eyes screw shut and you dig your nails into the meat of his back, but he doesn’t slow down—he speeds up—

“Fuck, you still think that throwing your little fucking fits works on me?”  He hisses, drilling into your g-spot with such blinding hard precision that you can’t do anything more than just claw at his chest, gasping for air that just won’t come into your lungs.  “Huh?  Think you can just be a little bitch to me about it and it’s gonna change anything?  You still don’t have any fucking idea, do you?  Look at me—” he snarls, grabbing your face and shaking it to get you to respond, “—look at what you fucking do to me—”

But you can’t.  You already came countless times and he’s lurching you up the bed with every single rabid thrust into your blindingly sensitive cunt, fucking you into the railing and then the wall behind it.  You still feel his fingers grasping at your jaw, forcing you to address him, to look at him, and you can’t seem to focus your vision on his blurry features even when your eyes flutter open.  You’re too dumb with grinding pleasure to see anything besides blurs and stars, to say literally anything back to him.  But that’s not what he cares about.

“Oh fuck yes, there it is,” his voice whines, pitching up something vulnerable as his hips ram you into the corner hard and unyielding, “fuck, there’s those pretty eyes, that’s what I wanted, baby, that’s all I wanted—th-that’s—fuck, that’s—”

They must cross, or roll back, or something, because suddenly you can’t see him at all anymore.  You don’t know what happens—but you know it’s wet.  You know it bursts forth something fierce and you shriek his name with a hoarse and shredded voice like he steals the last part of your whole fucking soul with it.  Fuck, you’re not even there for most of it, you might actually black out.  

In your conscious moments, you can feel his whole body flexing over and over again on top of you.  He empties his load deep inside you and takes a fucking eternity doing it, so many breathless praises leaving his mouth so quickly that they slur together and you can’t understand any of it even if you could hear him.  All you can do is feel your cunt tighten and convulse in tandem with the throbbing of his cock, rhythmically working the cum out of him until Poe stops stuttering his hips, until he finally trails off into nothing but labored gasps and slumps down on top of you in exhaustion.

You both lay there for a while, dead weight breathing.

You want to hold him, your cum-struck mind quietly provides in the comedown.  You want to feel his body now that you can finally think straight and take a moment to enjoy this blissful relief.  He fucked you so good and you want to touch him, you want to run your fingers through his hair and massage the tight muscles at the base of his neck.

But then you just start giggling.

It’s stupid.  It’s so fucking stupid.  You smack your hand over your mouth but the garbled noise easily floats beyond it, completely elated and having absolutely no explanation at all.

Poe quickly pulls his head back to look at you and you try to twist sideways under him to hide it, but you can’t stop—like a complete loon, you snort and start to laugh harder at the ridiculous sound.  Oh, you don’t just float, you’re the air itself, so light with endorphins that you close your eyes and get lost in the fit until water wets the outside corners.

After a moment, a hand gently grasps your wrist and slowly pulls it down until he can see the way your mouth opens as you giggle, hear it unobstructed and let the sound bubble up at him and fill the room.  And you blink your eyes open just in time to see him slowly break into the most dazzling smile you’ve ever seen him bestow a person.

And… you’ve seen him grin a million times.  He’s almost always smiling, as long as you’re not right in front of him.  He smiles at his squadmates, he smiles at girls, he smiles at complete strangers, and you always thought it was pretty.  Always knew that he could light up a room with it, you always knew he could get anything he wanted with it, but this… this isn’t that kind of smile.  That one is practiced and alluring.  It wasn’t fake, necessarily, but that smile’s purpose always had more to do with making anyone who happens to witness it feel a certain way than it did about signifying his own emotional state.

This one is… goofy.  Amazed, and uncoordinated.  Thunderstruck in a way, except the clouds all part at the same time and let you see a rainbow.  It makes you feel… alive.  Colorful.  Radiant.  Sunshine.  Butterflies.

Poe quickly drops his lips to catch yours and you moan happily, sliding your tongue into his mouth this time.  You both adjust, you arch into him as he pushes your damp hair back and makes a deep noise of satisfaction, letting you explore while he wraps his arms around you and finds a way to make this atrocious position comfortable.  Every part of you is smushed up against him and there’s absolutely no space to be found, and you’ve never been happier.

“We made a mess,” he groans against your lips, rocking his hips into you with a disgustingly slick sound as if to illustrate, and his cock is soft but it’s still so thick that it stays buried inside your sloppy entrance.  “Shit, I—I think I might be bleeding.”

“What?”  You ask breathily, and he heaves himself up with his elbows just enough to reveal his chest.  You both tuck your chins unattractively to look and you don’t immediately see any blood, but your claw marks are clearly red and visible scraping down his pectorals.  “Oh.  Pfft.  You’re fine.”

He drops back down with a huff and your head is tilted at the perfect angle catch on the tiny droplets of blood decorating the marks criss-crossing his shoulder blades.  Oops.

But he’s already kissing up your neck and over the curve of your jaw and making out with you again like he can’t get enough of it, and you forget.  You forget everything.  You forget every disagreement, every gripe with him you’ve ever had.  It’s all wiped away and replaced with giddy, childish adoration.  Resetting completely and starting off on the rightest foot imaginable.

“Let’s go to my bed,” he murmurs, and you make a tight noise of disapproval.  No.  This is good, this is how you want to stay.  The railing is digging into your lower back and he’s heavy but you’re perfect like this, this is perfect.  “Baby,” Poe pants against your lips in exasperation when you quickly clutch the back of his neck and keep him glued to you, “mmph—you got everything all wet—”

This time you make a low hum of agreement and drag your hand down the bare curve of his spine to his ass to give it a squeeze.  A testament to how hard and raw he fucked you.  Poe shudders hard enough for you to feel his body tremble but you just kiss him harder, pulling him down onto you more.

“You’re gonna have to give me, just like—I don’t know, at least an hour or two,” he chuckles, grabbing your hands to make it easier to peel himself from your body and groaning when his cock finally slips out.  “Come on, let’s hang out in my bed.”

You’re so boneless when he pulls you to sit upright, you roll a little bit and Poe has to catch you, and you laugh again.  Maker, you’re a complete mess and absolutely delighted about it.  Your attempts at grumbling and complaining don’t hold any sway when you’re still trying not to giggle, and Poe is able to pull you to the top of the ladder and make his way down first.

As soon as he’s out of sight and calling up to you, you weakly slide into position with a groan and feel yourself leaking at the movement.  “Gah—look what you did.  I’m all… gooey.”

“I know, s’the hottest fucking thing,” he says under his breath from the floor, before beckoning you by tapping on the closest rung a few times.  “Come on, be careful.”

You do as he says, easing your naked body down one step at a time with wobbly legs.  It’s clumsy and you whine the whole way through, wordlessly grousing and mumbling.

“Oh, I just know it,” he comments on the sound, “nice clean sheets, I’ll get the violin.”

Normally, you probably would’ve snarked something back down at him, but you’re still so loopy and shaky-legged that you just start laughing again.  The fact that he’s absolutely right and you’re being ridiculous about something like moving beds suddenly strikes you as incredibly fucking funny for some reason.  You don’t realize his hands are hovering inches away from your hips until your legs buckle and Poe quickly supports your weight.

“Maker,” Poe chuckles before giving you a firm yank, and then catching you before you can tumble down the ladder in your naked, teary-eyed mania, “let’s go, giggles.”

He carries you a few steps to the mattress and plops you down on top of the comforter, letting you take up the whole bed while he sits on the end and puts your feet on his lap.  Poe grimaces for a second and then shuffles until the radio is pulled out from under him, and you can hear the soft sound of it playing once again.  You bury your face into his pillow, inhaling the warm scent lingering there while he tosses it carelessly to the side and rubs your shins for a little bit, watching you stretch out naked on his mattress.  

“I’m not giving you two weeks of pay,” you suddenly grunt, and he just grins down at you, not arguing.  Not saying anything.  Sitting in comfortable silence with you when you’re expecting him to bicker.  So you stay like that for a long time, breathing deep and relaxing, until Poe’s hands leave you for a second…

… to pull a bag of chips out.

Maker, at the first squeaky sound of the wrapping assaulting your eardrums, you want to roll your eyes.  You want to tease him about how fucking typical it is.  Like clockwork, you could probably set your watch to his middle of the night cravings.  You don’t know why you thought fucking him would change any of that.

You want to give him shit for it.  You even open your mouth, the snark on the very tip of your tongue.  But then your stomach growls as soon as he rips the thin plastic apart.

Poe’s eyes shoot to yours and neither one of you move, but apparently your tummy doesn’t get the memo.  It takes forever to trail off into silence again, and he blinks.  Fuck, you know you should’ve forced yourself to eat at least something earlier.  Warmth floods your cheeks and you scramble for something to say, but there’s no way to play it off.

“Would you like some chips?”  Poe suddenly asks with a boyish grin, raising his eyebrows and tipping the open bag freely in your direction.

The corners of your mouth pull downwards even as the inside of it waters.  You wouldn’t call it stubbornness necessarily as much as it is a… a desire to stick to consistency.  After the unbelievably hard time you always give him about midnight snacking, you’re hesitant to partake.

Though, the chips rustle against each other and sound absolutely fucking delicious as Poe shakes the bag and bounces his eyebrows, and you know what?  Fuck it.

You snatch it without thinking, cradling the precious food to your chest as you dig your whole hand in and shove a bunch into your mouth at once.  You catch him smiling again, but he doesn’t comment.

You both take turns, and by take turns you obviously mean you take turns stealing the bag from each other instead of just setting it equidistant between you and openly agreeing to share it, but it works for you.  It seems appropriate.  And then it’s quiet again, just munching and crinkling, except for the radio continuing to play from its place in his lap.  You have to work to listen over the loud crunching vibrating through your skull, but when you finally manage to stop chewing and catch a few bars, you suddenly find yourself trying not to smile again.  Fuck, it’s been years since you’ve heard this song, you love this s—

“Fuck, I love this song,” Poe promptly exclaims with his mouth full, licking the tips of his fingers before scrambling to pick the radio up and twist the volume knob without using his wet fingertips.  He starts humming over the melody, loud enough to almost drown it out completely, because of course he does.  The one damn time you actually want to listen to his radio and he still finds some way to mildly irritate you.

But this irritation is almost… fun.  You want to laugh just as much as you want to yell at him.

“Hey, who sings this song?”  You immediately ask over the sound of him clearly not knowing the lyrics, already ready with it.  Oh, the round is in the chamber, your finger is on the trigger, you are ready, and Poe’s eyes sparkle as he seems to stop and think about it.

“Mm, not sure,” he eventually shrugs, just before you rush, “Let’s keep it that—”

And then he’s slapping a hand on your leg and belting out the chorus while you scoff, giggling.  He ruined the punchline on purpose and is now getting chip dust all over you, but you know any complaint you make will be drowned out by his suspended notes and backing track, so you just roll your eyes and swipe the bag of chips from him while he continues to serenade you.

“My ears are bleeding,” you mutter under your breath.

He has a nice voice, you think.

[dameronology]

the one where he takes a break {finn x reader}

summary: finn is dedicated - sometimes a little too dedicated. it takes the combined forces of you, rey and poe to convince him to take a day off. (for @softdin​ -- i hope you enjoy!)

warnings: just language! 

- jazz xx

Finn was an almost perfect human being.

Almost. 

He had pretty much everything good going for him; everything you could possibly have asked for in a partner -- funny, kind, sweet, caring, bad-ass. He embodied everything that was good in the galaxy and you thanked your lucky stars everyday that your paths had crossed, and that you were lucky enough to have found him. In a world that was so full of darkness, he brought a light to your life that you never knew you needed. He could make you laugh without even trying, and pretty much everything he did, he did with you in mind. He was your partner in crime and you couldn’t even fathom the idea of life without him. 

Finn’s only downfall wasn’t even a downfall, but rather a testament to how dedicated he was. Try as you might to stop him, but he spent hours upon hours fighting the good fight. His life had become a tangle of late nights and early mornings, managing to strike a balance between providing relief for former Stormtroopers like himself and training to be a Jedi with Rey. You genuinely didn’t understand how he managed to find enough time in the day to juggle everything and still find time for you -- then again, Finn had proved himself capable of doing the unexpected a million times over. He made it look completely natural and easy too. 

He would normally listen to you when you told him to take a break, but it was never for more than five minutes. To you, a break was stepping back from his work for a few days and enjoying the new galaxy he’d fought so hard to create. To him, it was pausing for a few minutes to get a glass of water and maybe watch an episode of his favourite sitcom. Every time you insisted on pulling him away from his tight schedule, he’d whine about how he thrived on stress! and needed to get shit done! 

You weren’t the only one that noticed it either. Rey and Poe had both voiced their concerns for Finn - but, if he wasn’t going to listen to you, he wasn’t going to listen to anyone. Convincing one of the most stubborn people you’d ever met to do something they didn’t want to do was going to be a mammoth task. But, you figured that if three of you had managed to defeat the First Order, your combined expertise on Finn and the workings of his mind could have had some sort of success rate. 

“I’m just worried.”

You were sat in a cantina with the two of them, eyes solemnly eyeing your now-flat beer. Finn was supposed to be there too, but he’d pulled another late night. You knew his work was important, but you missed him; not just his presence, but the actual physical feeling of having him crammed into the little booth beside you. You didn’t realise how much you missed the gentle smell of his aftershave and the tingly warmth of his body until it was absent. 

“I’m his best friend and he couldn’t even hang out with me this weekend.” Poe muttered. His lips were upturned, arms folded tightly across his chest. 

“That’s not the main issue here, Poe.” Rey reminded him. “Finn is overworking himself. He needs to take a break.”

“But he won’t.” You sighed. “I’ve tried everything.”

“Not everything.” Poe said. “What’s the one thing we’re all really good at?”

You frowned. “Holochess?”

“No.” He rolled his eyes. “Scheming.”

“Do go on.”

“What if we told Finn there was an important mission somewhere?” Poe began. “Maybe somewhere he’s always wanted to visit. Then, when he gets there, you can be all sike! You have been punked!”

“Punked?” You quirked an eyebrow. “How old are you, Dameron? Fifteen?”

“You two really can’t stay on the same subject for more than five minutes, can you?” Rey muttered. “Language aside, I think that could work.”

“He’s always wanted to go to Coruscant.” You said. “Just never got the chance.”

“I can tell him we have a mission there.” Poe nodded. “Then you two can meet us there, and we can all hang out.”

“Or,” Rey held her hand out, shushing the pilot. “You take him there, give the two of them some much needed alone time for a few hours, then we all hang out in the evening?”

He furrowed his brow again. “Fine.”

You grinned. “Thank you! It has been a while since we’ve actually, properly spent time together.”

“So,” Poe glanced up from his drink. “How about tomorrow?”

--

Okay, so you did feel a little bit guilty. 

It was hardly like you were putting Finn out his way, but you and Rey had left it down to Poe to convince him of an emergency mission - and knowing Dameron, he probably would have recounted some horribly frightening story to make his best friend agree to come. The details of which you, quite frankly, did not want to know. 

You arrived on Coruscant a few hours before they were meant to arrive -- they’d taken the Falcon, so you’d snuck out in an X-Wing and docked up a little way out of the main city. 

It had been a few years since you’d visited Coruscant, but it was still just as beautiful as it had always been. The cityscape stretched out for miles, skyscrapers and buildings tangling into an urban jungle; the air was filled with a sense of hurry and adventure, crowds bustling wildly and people rushing around as though time here went twice as quick as it did everywhere else. You couldn’t help but smile; after years of fighting in the Resistance, it felt like someone had finally pressed the play button on your life again (and you couldn’t wait to spend it with Finn). 

Speaking of the devil, you were supposed to be meeting him on the corner of one of the busiest parks. After buying a horribly overpriced hotdog, you found a bench just by a fountain and took a seat, people watching for a moment. Hundreds and hundreds passed you by, some stopping to admire the green grass around you and others barely taking a breath as they flew off to their next destination. It made you wonder who they were, and where they were going. 

Your thoughts stopped completely when your eyes landed on Finn; he was a few meters away, a holopad in his hand and BB-8 behind him. He was clearly in work mode, with hand ready on his blaster, dark eyes scanning the crowd around him for any signs of danger.  Among the butterflies, it made your chest hurt a little bit. Even though the war was over, he still found it hard to completely relax. It was almost as though he didn’t trust the universe to be nice enough to let him. The only time he ever really let his guard down and truly untense was when you were both in bed, wrapped up in each other’s arms and presences under the covers of the dark. 

“What did you say the suspect looked like?” He spoke into his earpiece - presumably to Poe Dameron, who had had far too much fun orchestrating the entire thing. “Black jacket, dark jeans, red boots…”

Finn spun around, freezing when his eyes landed on you. For a moment, he almost thought he was imagining it, or that you maybe had a twin you either didn’t know about or hadn’t mentioned to him. Then, he realised you were wearing a black jacket and red boots, and his look of confusion morphed into one of realisation. 

“Dameron, you glorious bastard.” He muttered. Shoving the holopad in his bag, he gave you a grin and opened out his arms to you. “Fancy seeing you here.”

You met him halfway, flinging your arms around him. Finn lifted you up off the ground for a moment, arms gripping you tightly. He’d hugged you literally that morning before he’d headed out for the day, but this one felt a little different. It was tighter and warmer, as though the realisation of what you and your friends had done for him didn’t quite feel real. His brain was going at a thousand miles an hour, trying to calculate the fact that you’d all gone out of your way to surprise him. 

“Hey.” You greeted him. He placed you back on the ground and pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. 

“So, there’s no mission?”  He grinned at you. 

“Nope.” You shook your head. “We just wanted you to take the day off.”

“We?”

“Me, Rey and Poe.” You replied. “But they’re coming later. I wanted you to myself for a few hours.”

Finn smiled. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You returned the grin. “Now, c’mon! What do you wanna do?”

He threw an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side as you began to head out of the park. He hooked his hand around your side, resting it on your hip. Even though you’d been a couple for a while, you still got butterflies whenever Finn showed you signs of affection. They were always tiny, subtle things; a hand on your thigh under the table, fingers tangled together when you slept. He always liked to feel you in some way, to know you were really and truly there. You kept one another grounded - and when you lived in a galaxy that was completely fucking whack, that was important. 

The two of you walked together for a few moments, quietly chatting amongst yourselves. You were lucky that the weather was almost perfect; the sun was high in the sky, but there was still a subtle chill in the air that occasionally breezed past. There were barely any clouds in the sky either, which meant it was probably going to stay sunny for the rest of the day. That only helped further your good mood. 

“I thought I saw some kind of food festival going on earlier.” Finn said. “I didn’t have time to stop, on account for the fact I thought I was on a mission.”

“It was the only way we could get you to take a damn break!” You playfully reminded him, tugging his arm. “But I do like the sound of food.”

“Then food, we shall get.” He pulled you closer into his side. 

It was only a short walk away -- and once you’d left the park and headed back onto the streets, you got to see more of Coruscant’s sites. You passed the tallest building in the city; it was so big that you couldn’t even see the top, instead squinting up at a seemingly endlessly skyscraper that became one with the sun at some point. There was also many statues of important people - Jedis and rebels and pilots  - and it hurt your heart a little when you spotted Leia’s. Finn sensed your bittersweet glances at the memorial, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. His connection to the Force and the empathy that came with it was never too much, and never in your face. It was shown simply through small actions,  as though he had a very strong intuition.

The food festival was a few blocks over from where you’d meet. You didn’t even think it was possible for the city to get even busier and yet, the crowds here were even stronger and more wild than the ones you’d seen else-where. Finn’s grip on you tightened as you entered, tossing the door-man a few credits with a charming. You did open your mouth to protest, and insist on paying on yourself, but he gave you a look that said don’t even try it. 

“What’s this stuff?”

Finn grabbed something from a random plate, shoving it in his mouth. You couldn’t blame him for being curious but you did lose a few seconds off your lifespan every time he grabbed a random sample without reading the ingredients. And, it became quickly apparent that it was something he did a lot. After forty minutes of fuck, that’s spicy and I’m not entirely sure that’s even food, you eventually took charge of which flavour palettes he went for. 

“Okay, this one doesn’t look too spicy.” You examined a bit of...it might have been cheese? 

“Thank you kindly.” He took a bite and paused for a second. “That’s really good.”

“Oh my days.” You murmured. “It’s made your tongue go bright blue.”

Finn stuck his tongue out, going cross eyed for a moment to examine the damage. He looked horrified for a moment, before breaking into a grin. You barely had a chance to work out what he was doing before he lurched forward, trying to grab you.

“Can you kiss it better?” He asked. “I think I might be dying.”

“Finn!” You loudly squealed, narrowly avoiding ploughing someone over as you leapt out the way. “Get off-”

“- please!” He continued to implore.

He grabbed you by the waist, lifting you up and out the way of the crowd. There was a little alleyway in between two buildings that offered cover; he dragged you into it, bodies shaking with laughter as you fell back against the wall. Both his large hands rested above your head, one working its way down from the wall and to the small of your back. He used its positioning to press you flush against his chest, capturing your lips in a breathtaking kiss. 

“I love you.” Finn breathlessly murmured. “And now your tongue is blue too. We’re matching.”

“Finn!” You exclaimed. “It’s fine, because I love you too.”

“I love you more.”

“Don’t start an argument you can’t finish.” You reminded him. 

He didn’t say anything - instead, he just held your gaze for a moment, brown eyes completely capturing your attention and making you forget everything else around you for a moment. The crowds, the noise, the excitement. None of it mattered when you were together, because everything he made you feel was a thousand times more overwhelming that even the busiest cities and emptiest deserts. 

“C’mon.” Finn took your hand again, pulling you away from the wall. 

“Where are we going?” You asked. 

“Let’s just walk.” He said. “And talk.” 

“Mmkay.” You replied. “I like that.”

--

You ended up exploring lots of the city that afternoon; the financial district, the arts quarter, the Jedi museum. It would have taken days to see everything that Coruscant had to offer, but you were both content with what you had the chance to see. It was a stunning reminder that the history of the galaxy stretched back far, far longer than either you or Finn could fathom. Moreover, it made you realise how important it was, and that everything you’d spent the last few years fighting for had been beyond worth it. 

By the evening, you were both pretty tuckered out. Finn, who usually had a spring in his step, was dawdling now, an ice cream in one hand and his free arm tossed over your shoulders. The bright blue of the Spring sky had begun to fade into pink, with navy tinging at the edges and reminding everyone that the day was drawing to a close. It was perfect timing too, because you weren’t too far from where Poe and Rey were waiting with the Falcon. 

“Where are we even going?” Finn asked. 

“You’ll see.” You flashed him a grin, trying to pull his arm and force him to walk a little faster.

In his defence, it was up a steep hill, and he’d already done what felt like a million steps that day. He hadn’t even realised til now how tired he was, because you’d both been so caught up in each other’s presences for the entire day. And, whilst this whole thing hadn’t been to try and get him to take more days off, it was certainly an idea that he’d begun to think about. He’d forgotten how good it was to just take the day off and exist just as Finn, not Finn the ex-Stormtrooper or Finn the Jedi. 

The path eventually flattened, opening out onto a green hill. It was where the city ended and the forest began -- between a tangle of trees, the large grass space looked out onto the skyline. You could see for miles and miles, yellow lights illuminating the black sky and creating an outline of an urban utopia. It didn’t look all that different from the blurs of hyperspace, except if you looked close enough, you could work out single buildings and windows. Each one represented a different place and person; thousands of individual people who all lived their own lives and had their own stories to tell. 

Before Finn could say anything, there was a blur of brown leather and dark curls -- Poe Dameron had made an appearance, pulling you both into a tight hug and almost forcing you onto the ground from his might. He’d only seen you both that morning, but he truly was like a Golden Retriever who had been left alone that day. 

“C’mon, we’re over here!”

The pilot grabbed you by the hands, pulling you further towards the centre of the field. The Falcon was parked in the middle; the window on the top of the cockpit was open and covered with blankets and pillows. Rey was already up there, just as enchanted by everyone else at the view. Like Finn, there was still so much of the galaxy that she was too yet to explore. 

Finn went up first, sticking out his hand to help you up. He pulled you into his lap as he took a seat, arms winding around your front and holding you to his chest. With his head resting on your shoulder and a blanket thrown over both of you, it was easy to get comfortable. 

“A beer for you,” Rey handed you both a drink, “and one for you.”

“This view is insane.” Finn commented. “How did you find it?”

“My parents used to come here, way back when.” You explained. “It was kind of their spot.” 

“That’s amazing.” He replied. “Thank you guys. I really can’t believe you did all this for me.”

“We wanted to.” Poe chimed in. “We’ve all missed you, buddy. You work way too hard.”

“It makes us all look bad.” You joked. “No, but seriously. We’re all very proud of you, but you do need to start taking proper breaks. They probably won’t all be like this but the time off is good.”

His grip on you tightened, and he gave you a light squeeze. “You’re right. I just...I know that the war is over, but keeping myself busy is all I’ve ever really known.”

“We can keep you busy.” You peered up at a him with a grin. “I can’t promise we won’t get on your nerves, though.”

Finn shook his head with a chuckle. “I know I’ve said it a thousand times today, but I love you.”

“And me!” Poe reached out to give his shoulder a whack. “And Rey, too!”

“I love you all.” He corrected himself. “You’re my family.”

[twomoonstwosuns]

valentine’s day.

back to you [series masterlist]

previous part · next part

pairing: professor!poe dameron x reader

warnings: swearing, pure sweet cheesy af fluff for literally the entire thing

word count: 4.8k lol oops

a/n: eee, here it is! i really hope this lives up to expectations because i really agonized over trying to make this perfect. feedback would be so greatly appreciated.

also shout-out to @myrandom-fandomlife for giving me the help to kickstart my brain and get this written <3

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

You felt lighter than you had in weeks.

The semester was going well. Graduation was just a few months away. Your sister Tallie announced she was pregnant, her baby coming in the fall. The only thing that had the potential to turn your mood was Poe, but even that had been going well.

You talked more. You hadn’t been over to his place since he bent you over his table the previous week, but you were talking to him nearly everyday. You texted often and stayed up way too late talking to him. You were enjoying it, but you knew you had to be cautious as you fell deeper into attachment.

With Valentine’s Day just a few days away, you began to wonder if you’d be spending it with Poe. You weren’t together, much to your chagrin for fear of putting your heart on the line and being turned down, but people had sex on Valentine’s Day. Maybe you’d at least get that. You tried not to dwell on it too much, but Poe made it increasingly difficult to not think about it…or him. He had spent the majority of the day sending you the most ridiculous pick-up lines, having heard one that morning at his favorite coffee shop that made him cringe with how bad it was. Whether it was a joke or not, he didn’t know, but he found the most ridiculous ones on the Internet and sent them to you, if anything just to brighten your day and make you laugh.

You had just dropped a book off at the library and were heading towards the university center to meet up with your roommates when a car flashed its brights at you. You stopped when they did it again and it took you a minute to realize it was Poe’s car. You made your way over, hearing the soft whir of his window going down.

“Hey, what’re you doing here?” you asked as you leaned in, the warmth from the car’s heater fanning your face. “I thought you had that mixer thing tonight?”

“I’m on my way, I just had to grab something from my office. Then I saw you and just wanted to say hi.”

You could just see him, the cover of darkness providing the perfect shield for your meeting. The smell of his cologne filled the car and you realized it was different but just as distinctive than the one he wore everyday. You narrowed your eyes when you noticed the tension in his shoulders.

“You don’t want to go, do you?”

“Not really.” He admitted with a humorless laugh.

“Could you skip it? I can’t imagine sucking up to department heads is very fun.”

“It’s not, and as much as I want to, I can’t. Snoke’s retiring and they’re looking to find his replacement before the fall semester. There are a lot of people that will be there that I have to impress if I want to be considered.”

“Do you want to be considered?”

Poe nodded, the knot of nerves in his stomach tightening. “It’s just a rumor right now, but word is that President Organa’s already got a small list of people she’s considering to replace him and I’m on it.”

You gaped, a smile forming on your face.

“Poe, that’s amazing. They’d be stupid not to pick you.” You placed your hand on this shoulder. “You have to get going and I have a move to catch, so neither of us have time to listen to me tell you all the reasons why you’d be the best option, but just know you are. And although I may be a little biased, I’m also usually right.”

Poe smiled appreciatively, the support making him feel a little more ready. Of course he’d talked to his dad and his close friends about it, receiving the same encouragement, but it meant so much coming from you.

“So, what’d you think of the pick-up lines I sent you?” He asked, changing the subject. You giggled.

“I thought they were great but my roommates think you can do better, so we spent an hour after class googling pick-up lines,” you explained, making Poe chuckle warmly. “I’m definitely going to blame you for not getting anything done the rest of the week.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

“I did actually like some of them. They were cheesy as hell, but some of them were pretty cute. And the dirty ones were good too.”

“I have one more if you want to hear it.” You nodded enthusiastically. “Do you have any raisins?”

“Did you just say raisins?” you asked incredulously. Poe gave you a pointed look that told you to just answer the question. “Ok fine, um…no?”

“Then how ‘bout a date?”

You threw your head back and barked out a laugh. “That’s a good one. Very smooth.”

“Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“How about a date? Saturday night?”

You froze, unsure if you heard him right, but the way he was observing you with hope told you that you heard every word correct. You couldn’t help the smile that grew bigger with each second you took to process Poe’s words.

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, I’ll go on a date with you.” you repeated with a grin, your smile disappearing when you felt your phone buzzing incessantly in your pocket. With five minutes until the movie started, you knew it was your roommates wondering where you were. You glanced at the clock. “I have to get going and so do you. Try not to die of boredom.”

“I’ll text you.”

“You better.”

You took two steps away from Poe’s car when you decided to turn back. You knocked on the window, giving Poe an apologetic smile when he jumped in surprise. The window rolled down once again and you leaned in to press a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“I can’t wait,” you said softly, taking a few steps back as your cheeks heated up. The way he was smiling at you was turning your insides to mush. “Good luck tonight.”

Poe’s soft gaze stayed on you until he couldn’t see you anymore. If he had room to punch in the air in victory, he would have. Meanwhile, you felt like you were sixteen again, like the boy you had a crush on for months asked you to the big dance. The smile stayed on your face for the entire movie, while the one on Poe’s face lingered for throughout the party.

》 》 》

Dress warm. I’ll pick you up at 8.

Nervous was an understatement. You paced in the lobby of your apartment building, your hands practically sweating through your gloves.

If this date didn’t go well, that would be it for the two of you.

“Stop psyching yourself out,” Jessika had told you just moments before. “You guys already have this amazing connection, it’s gonna take something short of admitting to a murder for this not to go well.”

She was right, of course, but this wasn’t just any guy. This was Poe, someone you’d come to care for greatly in the last few months.

It had to go well.

Poe pulled up at exactly 8 o’clock and you snuck into his car, speeding off before anyone could see, like an undercover mission. “So, where are we going?”

“You’ll see. It’s not too far from here.”

You narrowed your eyes and studied Poe, looking for any clues in his facial expression that could somehow spill where you were going. He kept his face neutral, a small hint of a smile on his face. “Mysterious. Ok. How’d the mixer go the other night?”

“Good. Not to sound conceited but I think President Organa likes me.”

“Of course she does.”

Poe winked and you rolled your eyes with an amused smirk on your face. The soft music in the car filled the silence, neither of you quite knowing what to say. You wrung your hands in your lap as nervous butterflies flapped around in your stomach.

“You seem nervous.” Poe said, his hand coming off of the steering wheel and covering yours in comfort. You immediately stopped fidgeting.

“Is it weird that I am?” You asked.

“No. I am too.”

Your confession gave him a boost of confidence. He felt he had gone the extra mile to make this night special, to show his true intentions of what he wanted out of this. He hoped you’d see it and want it as much as he did. Knowing you were just as nervous as he was showed you cared about this going well just as much as he did.

He pulled his hand away to steer his car into a parking spot. His was the only car in the lot, not that it was surprising. Cold and dark winter nights didn’t exactly bring a lot of people out to wander around a park for fun. Poe opened his door, but your hand on his arm stopped him. “I’m nervous, but I’m really happy we’re doing this.”

He gave you an easy half smile, the one that made him so effortlessly striking.

“Me too,” he said, covering your hand with his. “Come on.”

You got out of his car and finally realized you were at Canto Park. It was unrecognizable at first due to the darkness of the night and the lack of people, but you recognized the streetlights that lit up the walkways when you got a closer look. Poe handed something to you and it took a minute in the dark to see that they were a pair of skates.

“We’re skating?” you asked in surprise, completely caught off-guard. You were expecting dinner and a movie at his apartment, the options for doing anything together extremely limited. “This is not going to end well, just so you know.”

“You’ll be fine,” Poe assured you. “Have you ever rollerbladed?”

“When I was like thirteen.”

“Then this’ll be fun. I’ll help you.” You couldn’t help but become a little anxious. The chance of you making a fool out of yourself was very high.

The park was eerily quiet but peaceful, the only sound crunching underneath your feet. The man-made ice rink was lit up with bright lights that nearly blinded you with its sharp contrast to the inky black sky.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to be here,” you said with a smirk as you sat down on the bench next to the ice rink. “I’m pretty sure the park closes when it gets dark.”

“Better be prepared to run if we get caught then.”

“I’m flattered you think I’ll be able to skate, let alone run in skates.”

Poe finished tying up his skates and as you tied up your left one, he scooted closer to you and brought your right foot into his lap.

“What’re you doing?” you asked.

“Making sure you tied them right,” he winked. You gave him a dry, sarcastic laugh as he grabbed the foot you had just finished with. With his seal of approval, Poe helped you up and over to the ice. You gripped the wall until you were sure you had your balance. Like riding a bike, the familiar movement of gliding came back, although you wobbled like a newborn colt with fresh legs because it had been nearly ten years since you did anything like this. Poe did a lap around the rink as you glared at him.

“Show-off!” you called after him, hearing him laugh from the other side of the rink. “Let me guess, you played hockey?”

“Only for fun.” Poe answered, slowing down as he approached you. “I was more into music than sports in high school. I was in a band, though.”

“College professor by day, rock star by night? It’s like modern day Indiana Jones. What kind of music did you play?”

Poe smirked at the reference. “Rock, pop, alternative, whatever you want to call it. We called ourselves The Resistance. It’s how I met my friends Finn and Rey. Still best friends to this day.”

“Do you guys still play?”

“Individually maybe, but together no, we left that back in high school. We had a demo of songs that somehow got into the hands of someone over at Skywalker Records, but we weren’t interested.”

“You didn’t want to be a rock star?”

“Sure I did, but I had other things I wanted to do more. Finn and Rey did too.”

“The Air Force?” Poe gave you a curious look. “The tattoo on your back. I recognize the symbol.”

“My dad was in the Air Force. I got the tattoo for him. I almost enrolled right out of high school, but then my dad got sick.” You gave him a sympathetic look. “He’s fine now, but instead of enlisting I went to college and I worked to be able to stay home and help him out.”

“You guys are close.” You observed.

“Very.” He wanted to tell you why, but didn’t want to bring the mood down anymore with the story of his mother. “What about you? Sports, music?”

You told him how you played soccer as a kid through an amateur league in your hometown. You played up until high school, making the varsity team your freshman year but taken out of the game indefinitely during your first game from a severe knee injury. You told him while you loved music, you participated in choir during high school not because you could sing, but so you could hang out with your friends.

While the conversation was entertaining, you stumbling around on the ice was not.  Poe thought it was though, as he tried walking you through it step by step, giving you tips on how to keep your balance by focusing on one spot in the distance and not moving your eyes from it. Of course your mind chose Poe to focus on, but every little movement he made, especially when he was close to you, grabbed your attention, which made you unable to concentrate. You were having fun even though you were slightly embarrassed about your lack of coordination. You’d miraculously had not fallen, but you bumped into the wall and crashed into it whenever you had to stop yourself.

“Ok, new idea. Let’s try one more thing.” Poe said, turning so he was facing you. He grabbed your hands to make sure you were steady before moving backwards, pulling you with him. “Don’t look down, eyes on me. Now talk about something.”

“Like what?” You were finding it extremely difficult to focus on anything at all except your hands in Poe’s and the impending doom of rolling your ankle at any second.  

“Anything.” He said, turning so he was facing you and skating backwards. “Tell me something not a lot of people know.”

You hummed as you thought about his question. “I seriously considered going to school for photography.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Same reason you’re not a famous musician. I had other dreams and it’s a hard industry to make a career in. It’s probably better as a hobby anyway, I can’t get mad when something doesn’t go right because I’m not under any obligation to be successful.”

“What do you photograph?”

“Anything. I’ve done some senior pictures over the past few summers when I’ve been home. I’ve done some engagement photos, pregnancy announcements. I like to think I’m really good at those black and white hipster photographs of nature and stuff.”

“You’ll have to show me sometime.”

“I always keep my portfolio with me, just in case. I’ll bring it by next time.”

Next time.The promise of a second date. Poe smiled down at you and then looked over your shoulder with a soft chuckle.

“What?” You followed his gaze and your jaw dropped. You had skated from one end of the rink to the other without almost falling.  “Oh my god, I made it!” You laughed happily. Poe smiled at your excitement.

“I told you you’d be fine.”

You were practically bouncing in excitement. You pushed forward, gaining speed and catching up with Poe when you suddenly fell onto your butt when your skate hit a loose chunk of ice.

“Damn it, I was doing so well!”  You exclaimed, holding your arms out in front of you. “Help me up?”

Poe pulled you up with ease, gripping your forearms when you nearly slipped again.

“You good?”

You nodded with breathless laugh, your eyes meeting his. The sudden urge to kiss him consumed you and you glanced down at his lips. Poe did the same, the air surrounding you standing so close becoming thick. Your feet suddenly came out from underneath you and you ended up on the ice with a hard thump. Poe laughed loudly and you couldn’t help but laugh with him at your clumsiness.

“Ok, I think that’s enough skating for you.” Poe said, holding out his hand. You lay back onto the ice with your eyes closed, arms out on either side of you in defeat.

“Nope, I’m done, not moving. I’ll die here.”

Poe grabbed your arms, hauling you up before crouching down to the ice, urging you to get on his back. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride back.”

You hesitated a second before wrapping your arms around his neck. He gripped the back of your thighs tightly as he picked up speed, taking a quick detour to do a lap before taking you back to the bench. You squealed in delight at his sudden burst of speed, the wind whipping your hair. You held on tightly, not letting go until you were being lowered onto the bench. Before you could start unlacing your skates, Poe was doing it for you, being gentle as he slid the skates off in case you hurt your ankle.

“If photography doesn’t work out, I don’t recommend skating as a back-up plan.” Poe teased, and you shoved his chest playfully as you grabbed your boots. You handed Poe his and then the skates, but he pushed them back towards you. “Keep them for next time.”

“You’re going to make me do that again?!”

Poe took your hand and you walked back towards his car, both taking it slow as your legs were exhausted.

“You’ll be a pro by the time I’m done with you.”

You sincerely doubted that, but didn’t want to tell Poe it’d be useless after seeing him so excited to try and teach you. It’s not like you wouldn’t mind trying again if it meant spending more time with Poe.

From relearning how to skate to the conversation, time had flown by and it was nearing ten o’clock. As he drove, you couldn’t help but hope your date wasn’t over despite it getting late. When he took the familiar route to his apartment, you were ecstatic.

He led you inside, itching to grab your hand but knowing there were too many possibilities of someone seeing it. Whether or not they went to school or knew he was a professor and you a student, the night was going too well to risk it. When Poe unlocked his apartment door, your jaw dropped.

The lights to inside were dimmed. A bouquet of roses sat in the middle of the wooden table that had been used not so innocently just last week, with a bottle of wine and two glasses. You scoffed in disbelief as he led you in.

“Wow,” you breathed, still taken aback. “Is this what you did all day?”

“Yeah. I cooked too, if you’re hungry. It just needs to be warmed up.”

You were speechless. Poe had really gone all out. You were secretly happy he had been the one to ask you out and not the other way around, as there was no way you could’ve come up with something to rival what he came up with in a few days. While he dealt with the food, you begged him for something to do to help him out. He insisted he had it but had you open up the bottle of wine.

“Where’s Beebs tonight?” you asked as you twisted the wine opener into the cork, looking around the apartment and not seeing him or any of his toys lying around.

“He’s at a friend’s house.” You glanced up at Poe, giving him a weird look. “No seriously, he’s down the hall at my neighbor Mr. Frick’s. He has a dog named Zorii that Beebs likes to play with. He lives alone, so I think he likes having two dogs to keep him company.”

“Have you done that every time I’ve come over?”

“Sometimes. Other times I usually put him in the guest room when people are here. I love him to death, but he’s nosy. He just gets so excited when people are over and not all of them like him jumping up on them. Not to mention I didn’t want him worried about the noises you were making.”

You understood, having had a dog growing up that had to be kept in a room when you had birthday parties and sleepovers. You were also surprised at how hyper-focused you must’ve been to get Poe naked that you didn’t realize that Beebs hadn’t really been around whenever you were there. You made a mental note to pick up something special for Beebs for being so tolerant of you and Poe’s frequent activities.

You handed Poe a glass, gently clinking yours against his before taking a sip. You noticed he had also lit some candles, adding to the romantic ambiance of his apartment.

“I keep meaning to ask you,” you said as you walked over to a cabinet that held a record player that had caught your eye many times before. “Does this work or is it just for show?”

You waited for an answer, but instead Poe walked over to you, reaching over your shoulder to grab a record. He practically boxed you in, the close proximity of him brushing up against you making you buzz excitedly. He grabbed a record and soon enough the slow strums of an acoustic guitar filled his apartment. Between the flickering candles and the smell of delicious food was filling the apartment, you were in awe.

“Dance with me?”

You set your wine glass down, your heart thundering in your chest. You knew Poe was sweet, but this was turning into the kind of date you thought only existed in movies. You were absolutely swooning and it was only the first date. You’d never been romanced this hard by anyone you dated. You took his outstretched hand and he pulled you into him. The position was familiar, you’d been in this exact stance with him many times, but his touch was soft, not lustful, like he was holding something truly precious. His hand was on your waist, the other holding your hand between your chests, holding you close. Any chill that lingered from your outdoor adventure was long gone. You were warm with adoration.

“What’re you thinking about?” Poe asked softly, bringing your attention back to him.

“The music, the candles, the dancing…it’s all so romantic.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

“Not at all.” You swallowed, suddenly feeling nervous again. “I just really thought I missed my chance for this.”

Poe pulled back just enough to give you a questioning look.  

“I wanted to ask you out last weekwhen you told me about your date,” you confessed, and Poe felt his chest tighten with a little bit of guilt. It read on his face and you shook your head. “Don’t. I should’ve told you not to go, or to go out with me instead, but I chickened out. My feelings have been all over the place the last few weeks and after that night I cried on your couch…”

“Yeah, me too.” He didn’t need to elaborate. You knew he felt the dynamic change that night as well. “Since we’re being honest, I only agreed to that date to try and forget how much I was thinking about you. This whole arrangement we have—“

“Not really working for me anymore,” you interrupted, Poe nodding his head in agreement. “But this? This is what I want. Even if I come out of this with a bruised ass.”

“I could say something about bruises on your ass, but we’re having a nice moment.”

Your shoulders shook with quiet laughter, your head dropping down onto Poe’s chest. He hugged you to him once again, his cheek resting against your head.

“Did you have fun tonight?” Poe asked, his tone suddenly unsure. You looked up at him concernedly. “Even though you fell a bunch of times?”

You went to answer him, but he kept talking.

“I know we don’t have a lot of options for dates because we’re technically not allowed to date, but—“

You put your free hand on his cheek, silencing him and bringing his attention down to you.

“This was the best first date I’ve ever been on,” you assured him and he smiled softly as your thumbs gently ran over his cheeks. “And it’s ok if we don’t have options. We’ll make it work. I just want to be with you.”

Poe let go of your hand, allowing his to fall at your waist. His eyes searched yours, brown eyes sparkling with warmth from the candles looking for any hint that you didn’t mean it. He found none and you stood up on your tiptoes, guiding yourself to him with the hand on his cheek, meeting his lips at the same time as he met yours.

He’d never kissed you like this before. Your lips molded together perfectly, already familiar with one another, but it was soft and light with nothing behind it except being in the moment. It took your breath away. You pulled away at the same time and it took you a minute for you to open your eyes.

The beeping of the oven pulled you apart. You reluctantly let go of Poe, grabbing your wine glass while Poe dished up the food. He suggested eating on the couch instead and your achy muscles couldn’t have agreed more. You made yourself comfortable on his couch as Poe ran to get Beebs before it got much later, both of you having severely lost track of the time. Although the dog was happy to see you again, he ran right into Poe’s room to sleep, tuckered out from a night of playing with another dog.

It didn’t surprise you that Poe was a decent cook and you made sure to let him know as you ate. How he managed to plan everything from the date to the food, you had no idea.

“You said earlier that you and Finn and Rey might still play individually. Do you?”

Poe shrugged. “Occasionally. I find myself mostly playing when I get really stressed. It’s relaxing.”

“Do you play for Beebs?”

“No, but he’ll sometimes lay next to me while I play, so I guess maybe a little bit.”

“Will you play for me?”

“Someday.” Poe was already thinking through all the different songs he could sing to you.

“So you skate, you cook, supposedly sing, and dance. What can’t you do?”

“Water ski.” Poe answered and you gasped theatrically, which turned into a loud laugh. “I’m serious! I’ve never been able to stand up.”

“I’ll teach you. It won’t hurt as bad as ice skating.”

Poe moved the dishes onto the coffee table, bringing your legs into his lap.

“Will you stay tonight?” Poe asked, giving your leg a squeeze. “No sex on the first date, I promise. We’ll do this right. There have been too many times I’ve wanted you to stay but didn’t ask you. But if you don’t want to, I’ll take you home.”

“I want to stay.”

You and Poe, on his couch, found yourself in the same position you were in a few weeks prior, except sadness and anger were replaced with adoration and bliss and neither of you were holding anything back. You stayed up until the early hours of the morning, just talking. With how much you knew about each other, it felt more like a sixth date than a first date. It was truly amazing how smooth the this transition was, from just sex to dating.

Like you were meant to be doing it all along.

tag list [open!] - @ah-callie @darksideofclarke @gloomygoregirl @leilei-draws @imaginecrushes @i-ievu @brianamaree @yeeintensifies @spider-starry @krazykatkay456 @fanfiction-trashpile @afootnoteinyourhappiness @easterncryptid @my-child-gaara @myrandom-fandomlife @onebatch--twobatch

[moonknightly]

Second Chances : Poe Dameron x Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Request: A very cheesy date + “It’s just hard for me to forgive you after everything that’s happened.” by @captaincleansweep

Warnings: Cursing

Whoever said your first date with a person would be the most awkward of dates fucking lied, and clearly had never been on a second first date before. In your opinion, a second first date with an ex lover should constitute as a new form of torture. And you weren’t being dramatic.

It was terrible. You didn’t know why, couldn’t really explain it, it just was.

Maybe it was because first dates were usually with a stranger, someone you knew almost nothing about, and there you were, staring across the table at a man you knew so intimately well, a man who still brought butterflies to your stomach each time his big brown eyes met yours and whose voice made your heart race. A man who knew you just as well. He knew each dark crevice of your mind and the spot along your spine that if he trailed his fingers just right against it, he could make your body practically tremble in his hands.

All of that history, all of those emotions and the collection of memories made. His face, oh so familiar and still so handsome. You knew this man.

Or at least, you thought you did. Given the circumstances, maybe you didn’t know him at all. Maybe he was a stranger.

You shook your head. You were giving yourself whiplash, trying to make sense of something that should be so simple.

Why were you giving him a second chance?

You shouldn’t be there. You didn’t know why you agreed to it, why you said yes to letting him take you out to the same cantina where you had your first first date. He sure as hell didn’t deserve it.

Second chances weren’t really your thing. You always believed that if a person thought enough of you, if you meant as much to them as they meant to you, they wouldn’t need a second chance. They would never do anything to warrant needing one.

Maybe that was a little idealistic. Maybe it made you a bit of an asshole. But it was what you had always believed, something you had learned from your mother when you were only ten years old. People didn’t deserve second chances because they shouldn’t need them in the first place.

So why were you giving him one?

You loved him, but that wasn’t a good enough answer. Not for you. Not given what he did to land you both in this position — you, a complete mess trying to figure shit out, and him, trying to...wait.

“Are you actually, literally, really trying to recreate our first date?”

You recognized the outfit, and the flowers he had given you when he had picked you up from your quarters. Fuck, base wasn’t even on this planet anymore, and he had still brought you all the way back to take you to the same fucking cantina.

Poe looked pained almost — you couldn’t tell if it was because he’d been caught or if it was from your tone.

Probably your tone.

“Or is this just your generic date shit? Did you bring her here too?”

Definitely your tone, and your words this time. He flinched, his lips turning down into a deep frown as he tore his eyes away from yours, feeling small under your intense gaze.

“I didn’t take her on a date.”

“Oh, so you just fucked her like a cheap whore and then expected to come running back to me? That’s nice.”

“I didn’t fuck her either.”

“And you really expect me to believe that?”

“I didn’t-”

“Poe, she was naked in our bed.”

He flinched again, pinching the bridge of his nose, looking so completely frustrated yet so lost at the same time. You almost felt bad for him. Almost.

“I know it looked bad, sweetheart-”

“Oh it looked worse than bad, because it was-”

“Terrible. I know it looked fucking terrible, but I promise you I didn’t do anything with her.”

“I don’t want to listen to this.”

You started to get up, but his hand shot out, his fingers wrapping gently around your wrist — you could very easily break out of it if you wanted to, and he knew that. And when you didn’t pull away, he guided you back into your bar stool, his eyes calmer than they had been before.

“Please just give me a chance to explain myself.”

You stayed silent, giving him his chance. His last chance.

He looked nervous, and to you that was the first sign that he wasn’t lying. It was easy for him to lie, but it was harder for him to tell the truth.

“She flew with Black Squadron that afternoon during drill,” he started, keeping his gaze on where his fingers were still encircling your wrist. “She got sick, and none of us thought she needed to get checked out for just a bit of vomit-”

You pushed the food he had ordered for you away. “Gross.”

“Sorry. But I didn’t know what else to do with her, she was dizzy and couldn’t really talk so I took her back to our quarters so that she could lay down and sleep it off. I still had shit to do, so I left her there. I don’t know why she was naked, maybe she thought she was in her own quarters? I don’t know. But I fucking promise Y/N, she was fully clothed when I left her there.”

Your stomach flipped. You could hear the truth in his words, but for some reason, you didn’t want to believe them. You wanted to believe that he had royally fucked up and slept with another woman.

Poe was determined, though. It was one of the things you loved about him. He let go of your wrist, tilting your chin up with a single finger until you were staring into those stupid brown eyes of his.

“Promise?”

“I swear.”

You sighed, hating the sinking feeling that lingered in the pit of your stomach.

As if he could read your mind, Poe frowned, watching you intently. “What is it?”

“It’s just hard for me to forgive you after everything that’s happened.”

He looked confused, his lips slightly pursed as he tried to remember what else he had done, but he couldn’t think of a damn thing.

“I don’t-”

“It’s not about this. I forgive you for this.”

“Then what else-”

You couldn’t stop interrupting him apparently. “We spent weeks arguing Poe. I fell asleep without you most nights and you’d be gone when I woke up, fuck, sometimes I wasn’t sure that you had even come to bed at all. You’d go days at a time without kissing me. And then you were shocked when I accused you of cheating? Really?”

Poe could only stare at you, shaking his head slowly, his mouth falling open then shut as he searched for something to say.

“Sweetheart, I’ve just had a lot going on.”

“I feel like I don’t mean anything to you at all.”

“You know that’s not fucking true.”

His voice was stern, his eyes narrowing just a little bit at the accusation.

“See? You get defensive when I try to tell you how I feel.”

“Because you know you mean everything to me.”

“And now we’re arguing again.”

“This is arguing? I thought we were having a conversation.”

You glared at him, trying to stand again only for him to pull you back down again, his expression softening once more.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” His voice was softer too. “I just, fuck Y/N, I love you so much and I’m sorry that I’ve made you feel like this. I let my work keep me from you and that’s no excuse. You should come first.”

“I should, but I don’t.”

“But you do. You always have. And I swear to the Maker himself, I’m going to do a better job of showing you that because I can’t fucking stand sleeping in our bed without you.”

You almost snapped at him again, but you couldn’t. You knew he was genuinely sorry, and you also knew how much waking up alone fucking sucked. You sighed.

Damn those stupid brown eyes.

“This is your last fucking chance, Poe Dameron. You’re not getting a third.”

You knew that was a lie.

You knew you’d give him a third, a fourth, a fifth.

But with the way he was staring at you with so much love and promise shining within every atom of his being, you knew he wouldn’t take them.

taglist: @jennibradley @feelmyroarrrr​ @arkofblake​ @adventurous-nerd​ @siriuslyparker​ @yougottakeeponkeepinon​ @writefightandflightclub​

[spencers-dria]

The First of Many

Someone To Stay Ch. 10

Spencer Reid x fem reader

Content Warnings: *Mentions of alcohol/drinking

Y/N POV:

You roll over in bed to glance at your phone to see it's 11 AM. It feels nice to sleep in with no alarm. After putting on your glasses and slippers and finally dragging yourself out of bed, you stroll into the kitchen and pour a bowl of fruity pebbles. You put a music playlist on the TV to play in the background.

It has been almost a week since your talk with Spencer. As much as it hurt you to see him broken in that way, you felt honored that he trusts you enough to share that part of his life with you. Talking about trauma is never easy. You should know.

You think over some of the things you said to him. Spencer's entire job involves profiling people and reading every tone, every bit of body language. You are sure that he most likely noticed changes in you as you spoke about coping with trauma, but you're grateful he hadn't felt the need to prod you with questions. He had become your best friend here, but you aren't sure you're quite ready to bare the darkest parts of your soul to him.

Suddenly you hear a knock at your door, not caring if a neighbor or maintenance worker sees you in your pajamas, you stroll towards the door and swing it open. You rub your eyes under your glasses to make sure you're seeing correctly. Spencer is standing in your doorway, a sheepish smile on his face.

"Y/N I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up! I just assumed since it was 11..."

You wave, brushing off his comments. "Its fine, really. I actually wasn't asleep. I was eating a late breakfast though." You suddenly become very self-conscious, and its not just because you're in your pajamas. Spencer had seen you that way on the trip. You realize as you stand in your doorway that you're wearing a tank and tight fitting PJ shorts and your bear paw slippers. Your hair is a giant mess. You have no makeup on, which you usually relied on to conceal your less than perfect skin. You never really outgrew acne, even in your twenties. You were also in your glasses. Basically, you felt like a hot mess, somewhat like Princess Anna waking up on coronation day. Even though your movie nights had been casual, you always tried to be at least somewhat put together without looking like you tried too hard.

"Umm come in" You step aside as you cross your arms over your chest, your gaze staying on your feet.

"Sorry you had to see me like this. I thought maybe it was just apartment maintenance. I can go change real quick..."

A look of genuine confusion spreads across his features. "I don't understand.  See you like what?"

You gesture to your entire body. "Like...this! I'm a complete mess, Spence." You try to keep your face down to conceal the redness growing on your cheeks.

Spencer shakes his head before letting out a small chuckle. You glance up, confused as to what about this he could possibly find funny. He better not be laughing at you, seeing as you are embarrassed enough as it is.

He shakes his head, smiling. "Silly girl."

Spencer reaches down and brushes a piece of hair behind your ear. "You always look pretty."

The voice of Mama Cass singing Dream a Little Dream of Me fills the air between the two of you. There's so much tension and you don't know where it came from. Usually you're really comfortable with Spencer. But you definitely feel butterflies in your stomach as the two of you lock eyes.

You definitely can't hide the blush heating up your face now. It seems like he is just now processing what he's said and done because his eyes widen as you see his face turn red as well. He lets out a cough, breaking eye contact and staring down at his shoes as he begins to fiddle with his hands. Your gaze lingers on his hands for just a moment before you turn on your heel and head back towards the kitchen table to finish your cereal.

Spencer follows you, hesitantly, leaning against the kitchen counter. There are a few moments of silence before he finally says "I was at a coffee shop just one block over. I had something to ask you so I thought I'd just stop by."

"Like I said before, you are always welcome Spencer. So what is your question?"

"It's probably stupid. You are more than welcome to say no. I probably would if I were you."

You laugh and roll your eyes. "Wow you're really selling me on this, keep going."

"Well... the team they uh, well sometimes they go out for drinks. If I don't go along they never let me hear the end of it. I usually end up sitting b-by myself while they all head to the dance floor. I j-just thought...I thought maybe you might..."

Spencer looks up, surprised to see you smiling and nodding enthusiastically.

"I'd love to. It's been a couple weeks since I've seen everyone. And honestly I could use a few drinks myself."

A toothy grin slowly grows on his face as he bites down on his bottom lip. He does this all the time but for some reason, today, you find your eyes staring at his lips a little too long after he's done this. Wow, he has really nice lips. Like reallyyy nice lips. How had you never noticed? I wonder if he's ever kissed anyone. He's in his thirties, surely he has. But he hasn't really spoken about past relationships. Then again neither had you.

You accidentally held your gaze on him while completely losing yourself in this train of thought. You are brought back to the present by Spencer calling your name. Your eyes quickly dart up to meet his as you realize just how far down the rabbit hole you had allowed your mind to go. You shake your head quickly, pushing these thoughts far away. It's hard enough to find a really great friend who will stick around that you can trust. You had no intention of screwing that up any time soon.

"Sorry! I'm really tired. I guess I just kind of zoned out there for a second." You quickly explain before returning to eating your bowl of cereal.

"Well I guess I should get going...I'll see you tonight?" Spencer starts to head toward the door.

"Wait! Why are you leaving?"

"Oh well I just though, well...I don't know. Are you saying you want to hang out?"

"You're my best friend here Spencer, of course I want to hang out!"

Before long the two of you had the Goblet of Fire ready to go on the TV with an array of snacks strewn across the coffee table. You noticed Spencer didn't sit on the far end of the couch this time. Instead, he sat almost on the middle. You decide to sit next to him, looking at him to make sure he's okay with it. He only gives you a smile, seemingly okay with this new arrangement.

By halfway through the movie, you had somehow ended up sharing one of your large fuzzy blankets and you had scooted close enough together that your head was on his shoulder. He hadn't said anything but you were fairly certain his breathing had changed as you'd done it.

The two of you had never been very touchy so you're not sure what had brought out this side of you today. Your thoughts start to wander again. Maybe it was the compliment he'd given you earlier. Spencer had never called you pretty, but hearing him say it gave you all kinds of nerves. You hadn't really thought about Spencer in that way. It's been years since you'd had a crush on anyone. You've forgotten what that even feels like. Surely that's not what this was. The two of you were just close. It's not like he'd ever be interested. He was a literal genius, an FBI agent, not to mention he was gorgeous. He could have any woman he wanted. Why are you even thinking about this! You don't like Spencer. Geez Y/N, get it together.

After the movie ends, you sit up and look at Spencer. "Do you need time to go home and get ready or will you be ready to leave from here?"

"Oh, I think I'm ready. I can leave and come back if you like?"

"That's silly. You can just wait here while I get ready, unless you have somewhere better to be" you jokingly raise your eyebrows and shove his shoulder. He fakes like he's been hurt, causing you to giggle. Ugh, why are you giggling? You sound like a lovesick schoolgirl.

You quickly stand up and head towards your bedroom before turning around to Spencer. "You are more than welcome to and food and drinks you find, and you can look through and find something on the TV if you'd like."

You take a quick shower and throw on a robe while you fix your hair and make up. You pull out a curling rod. You had a balayage done to your hair earlier that year, so curls really did look best, making the dark to blonde even more blended. As you look through your closet, you decide to pick an outfit that will give you a bit of a confidence boost. You pull on a spaghetti strap snug fitting maroon, velvet dress. It's a little lower cut than you usually wear, but it comes almost to your knees, keeping you from feeling like you've exposed too much skin. The back dipped fairly low, with the top half of your back covered in a piece of lace. After slipping into some strappy black sandals, you look in the mirror and admire the way it accentuates your curves. You'd been blessed with more booty than chest, so luckily you don't have to worry about showing an inappropriate amount of cleavage around Spencer's coworkers. Your legs also looked even more long and slender than usual. Yep, this was the perfect outfit.

You check your makeup in the mirror once more. Dark lipstick with smoky eye shadow and long lashes. You did this for yourself. You liked being able to feel a little bit sexy every once in awhile. You weren't dressing for anyone else. That is what you keep repeating in your head, and you will keep doing that until you believe it.

You take a deep breath to calm your nerves before stepping into the living room. Spencer is lying on the couch, reading through the book from your coffee table: Edgar Allen Poe's Complete Works. He's so entranced in the book, he doesn't notice you enter the room. Once he hears the clack of your heels across the floor he finally glances up and does a double take. Eyes wide, he opens his mouth to speak but just shuts it again. You can't help but think this was the reaction you had hoped for. Why were you dressing to impress Spencer? Maybe it's because he thought you were pretty when you were at your worst. You wondered what he would think when you put on your best. Based on the growing redness spreading from his face and down his neck, it's fair to say he liked what he saw. You could have sworn you hear him whisper a "wow" under his breath.

"I feel like I'm underdressed now." He finally speaks up.

"You look fine Spencer!"

"Fine? Fine can't compare with...with this!" He gestures to all of you.

You decide to play dumb. "I don't know what you're talking about. I just threw on a dress I thought would fit in with the atmosphere" You shrug. You want to tell him he looks more than fine. That he always looks fantastic, but you decide to keep this to yourself.

"There's nothing wrong with the way you're dressed, but if it bothers you that much I can help." You step forward and look him up and down, trying to figure out the best way to do this.

"You clearly know what you're doing," he laughs. "Go ahead."

"Ok first take off the sweater vest."

Spencer removes his black velvet-like blazer in order to remove a grey, patterned sweater vest. He's left in a dark purple button down with a matching tie, black slacks, and dress shoes.

You step closer and reach out to touch his tie, hesitating for a moment.

"May I?"

He nods for you to go ahead. You remove the tie and undo the top two buttons on his shirt. You then grab his blazer and help him to slip back into it. Lastly, you move your hand up to ruffle his hair a bit. You step back to take in the whole look.

"Well?" he asks.

You roll your tongue to the side of your mouth, biting on it as you try, very poorly, to hold back a smirk. You're impressed with your finished result.

He looks...hot. NO! Stop...nope. We're not going there. He's your best friend. That's all.

He must have noticed the way you've been eyeing him and the look on your face, because he is slowly turning a deep shade of red.

"See for yourself" you say as you lead him over toward a mirror.

After looking over his new appearance, he smiles. You can tell he feels confident like this. Confident Spencer is something you wish you saw more of. You're glad you could help him to see that he can be attractive. You wish he knew that he always has been.

"Come on pretty boy" you say, imitating Derek as you lead the two of you downstairs.

Luckily the bar is well within walking distance from your apartment. When you open the door to step outside the cool night air hits your skin, causing you to shiver a bit. You immediately feel a soft warmth enveloping your arms and shoulders. You look up to see Spencer wrapping his blazer around you. If any other guy had done this, you would certainly make assumptions, but Spencer was such a kind-hearted guy, you know he's only trying to be a gentleman. You give him a quick smile of appreciation as the two of you start to make your way to the bar.

When you finally walk through the doors, you make your way to a corner booth where you see some of Spencer's team...or your friends? You suppose they've really become your friends here. After greeting Penelope, Derek, and JJ each with a hug, you and Spencer walk up to the bar together to order drinks. Spencer orders water, which doesn't surprise you, but you've already decided that he needs a little help letting loose.

"Would you let me pick out a drink for you?" you ask, giving him your sweetest puppy dog eyes before he has a chance to shoot down the offer.

He sighs as though annoyed but his smile says other wise. "Fine, but go easy on me please."

"Two rum and cokes please, and make mine a double."

The two of you make your way back over to the rest of the group with your drinks. You listen to the four of them chat about some recent cases they've worked on. The topics don't bother you much, as you've always found that line of work intriguing. Since you're mostly listening, you finish your drink fairly quickly before Penelope speaks up.

"Enough work talk! I came to dance. Who's with me?"

Finishing your final sip, you slam the glass down on the table. You stand up to join her. "I'm in!"

JJ stands as well. "Alright, lets go, ladies!"

You hand Spencer back his blazer and look to him and Derek, waiting to see if they'll join.

"I'm feeling a little sore after that take down the other day. Maybe I'll join when I'm s a few more drinks in," Derek says.

"I'm okay for now." Spencer sees your hesitation when you realize he wont be joining. "Its okay though! Go and have fun." He gives a smile to let you know that he'll be fine. "Plus I have Morgan here to talk to for now."

"That's right, pretty boy!" Derek laughs as he throws his arm around Spencer, messing with his hair.

You laugh at the two as you turn to join the girls on the dance floor. You're grateful that those two have one another. Spencer is an only child and Derek seems to act in a big brother role. You know that it's good for him.

As you make your way to JJ and Penelope, the DJ is playing Now or Never by Tritonal. You are so grateful for a place that has good taste in music. EDM is just another one of many genres you enjoy. You and the girls are belting out the words together: "I'd rather have one night, than nothing foreveeerrr!"

As the beat builds you pick up your pace on the dance floor, giggling and dancing around with your friends. The beat finally drops and you're jumping and letting loose. You haven't had this much fun in a long time. Towards the end of the song, your gaze lands on Spencer. You notice Derek has left him to flirt with a girl over by the bar. He brought you along so he wouldn't be alone, and here you had left him. You make your way over to sit next to him after ordering two shots. You sit down next to him and slide his over towards him. He catches it as he raises his eyebrows at you.

"C'mon, you're gonna dance with us! I figure it will probably help if you drink to loosen up a bit first."

Spencer stares down at the shot in front of him, clearly questioning whether or not he should go along with this.

"You don't really have to, Spence. But I thought I'd at least try. I don't want you to have to be all alone over here. And I think you might actually have fun, if you gave it a chance. Plus, I can't dance at all! So you'll be fine as long as you stick with me."

This causes him to chuckle. He looks up at you. "Thanks, Y/N. I do appreciate it. I think everyone else has just kind of given up on asking me to join. But since you care enough to try I guess it's the least I can do."

"Woo! yes! Okay...bottoms up?" You look to him as the two of you clink your shots and down them in one quick motion. He seems to struggle a bit more after, since he doesn't do this often.

You hear Dirty Sexy Money comes on and your eyes light up with excitement. "Yes! This is a great song! Come on!" You grab his hand and lead him out to the dance floor.

You can tell Spencer is a bit unsure of himself still. You grab both of his hands and start to move him around, just trying to get him to loosen him. Both of you can't help but laugh. Neither of you are actually dancing well, just goofing off and having fun. Alcohol leaves you with more confidence than usual, so you're singing the song out loud, not caring who hears. You feel your confidence building even more. The problem with drinking is, you tend to get a bit flirty. This is usually directed at the nearest person, and it's usually the worst possible person. You begin to stop caring who's watching or how you're coming across. The song makes you feel sexy and you want to have fun.

Your dancing changes from silly to sexy as the chorus begins. You've got your hands in the air as you do body rolls. Your hips are swaying with the music. You're not sure how they got there, but before you know it your hands are wrapped around Spencer's neck. He looks so attractive to you right now. Your eyes stay locked on his as you sing the words of the song. You're feeling even more bold so you turn your back to him and grab his hands to place them on your sides. You shimmy down towards the ground and back up again. You feel him tighten his grip on you. You turn around to see a wide-eyed Spencer. His face is beet red and he's sweating despite not having danced much. You know that if this was bothering him, he would have walked away. The alcohol is keeping you from caring how this will affect your friendship afterwards. All you can think about is now. His words, his actions today, HE had made you feel confident and sexy. In this moment, you wanted him to know that. You're too buzzed and too busy taking in how good he looks to notice his eyes dart down to your lips, not so differently from what you had done earlier.

The thick tension in the air between you is quickly dispensed as the song changes. As Last Friday Night comes on, you pull Spencer over to the rest of the group on the dance floor, which now included Derek. The five of you end up singing and dancing around together, but you and Spencer can't help but stealing glances when the other isn't looking. Neither of you can forget what happened earlier. The other three share knowing looks.

As the night comes to a close, the group parts ways. Spencer opens the door for you as the two of you step outside to head back to your apartment. Most of the walk is made in silence. He passes his car outside your building and walks with you all the way back to your door. After unlocking it, you turn to him to say goodnight. Once again, your eyes land on his lips, one of his many wonderful features. You find yourself wishing you could kiss him, but your logic tells you this would not be a good idea at the moment. You are aware that your judgment is clouded. So instead, you pull him in for a hug. He buries his face in your shoulder as he whispers "Goodnight Y/N" next to your ear.

You rush inside and close the door before you have a chance to do anything you regret. After getting ready for bed, you are surprised to hear a small alert from your phone. It's a little late for anyone to be texting you. It's Spencer.

Spencer📱I had fun tonight. Thanks for making me try new things. :)

Y/N📱Me too! And good because I have a feeling that was a first of many haha

You fall into your bed, crawling under the covers. It feels comfier than usual, but you know it's because of how tired you are. You take in the feeling of the slick sheets against your skin and the warmth the blankets provide. You fall asleep with a smile on your face, remembering all the events of the night.

A/N: Thanks for reading this far! Y'all are awesome! Let me know what parts you like best!

Have a wonderful week loves 💖

[damn-stark]

Crossed Stars Ch.10

Star Wars x Marvel crossover

A/N- FINALE!!!!! I love how this chapter ended, so please do leave your thoughts. Thank you for reading.

Warning- ANGST, violence, swearing, long chapter.

Pairing- Poe Dameron x reader, Steve Rogers x Reader

Takes place- towards the end of Endgame.

————

“What is love?” You sigh, dropping your head on General Organa’s shoulder, “true love?”

“Not what you and your previous boyfriend had.” She joked.

Lifting your head you shoot her a lighthearted glare, adding a sarcastic comment, “you’re hilarious has anyone told you that?”

“You, just now.” She continued, recieving a small chuckle from you in return. Only for that laugh soon to die down and the amused smile you carried to turn into a sad frown. Making General turn serious, a hand gently placed on top of yours in a gesture of comfort. “You’re worried. You shouldn’t be, you should be patient. What you’re looking for is coming. That or you need to open your eyes.”

You release a soft huff, a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes visible for a quick second.

“Love, y/n, true love is when you always want what’s best for them, even if that doesn’t include you. It’s wanting to be with that person through the worst times, not even bearing that thought of what it would feel like to lose them. It’s even after years of being together feeling those same butterflies in your stomach. It’s someone you can’t escape reality with, it’s about finding someone who makes reality worthwhile.”

******

“Poe?” Slowly you push yourself off the ground, whipping your head all around some unknown part of what once was a building. Feeling your heart pump faster than you’ve ever heard it beat, fear replacing the pain and the joy felt when it all went well. The longer you couldn’t find Poe, the more that fear heightened. “Poe?!”

The sound of BB8 rolling to you and frantically chirping, made you turn to wait for his owner to follow suit, but to no avail—it wasn’t until you spotted him laid under some rubble did some sort of relief hit you. Making you quickly rush to him and struggle to pull him out. The relief you felt completely gone when you noticed he was still unconscious. Or...not breathing at all.

“Poe?” Your voice cracked, moving your hands to carefully cup his cheeks, feeling your heart beating wildly in your chest out of pure fear. “Come on. You’re okay. You’re okay. Poe?”

Your breath hitches when he still doesn’t move or wake up, your mind finally getting some sense to check his pulse. Pressing your ear on his chest, feeling like your were holding in your own breath in anticipation. The feeling of not finding his pulse causing you to cry softly. “Poe.”

It didn’t even matter if you were literally under huge amounts of rubble that could crush you at any minute, you just stayed there. Straining your ear the most you could to hear what you wanted, what you ached to hear.

“Come on. I can’t lose you. Not you.” You cried.

The feeling of a hand pressed on your back immediately made you jump and pull away. The tears drying from your eyes instantly.

“Worried?” Poe croaked as his eyes fluttered open, a smug smile on his lips already.

You grabbed onto your chest and slid to the ground, not even giving it a minute to fully capture that he was alive to glare at him.

“Don’t do that shit again.” You breathed.

“What? Almost die?” He joked, not even getting a smile as a response from you and something more like a angry scowl.

“Your ability to joke in a time like this is impeccable.” You grimace, pushing yourself off the floor and helping him up regardless. Missing the way he looked down at you, missing the soft happy smile he carried after managing to hear what you said a few moments before, when you were clueless as to if he were alive or not.

However his smile was short lived when Steve’s voice was heard through the ear pieces you both contained.

“Y/N? Are you okay?”

Without having the man wait, you turned your back to Poe to answer Steve, “yeah I am. Are you alright? Where are you?”

“By an opening, Tony and I stayed on the upper level. Where are you?”

You look around and again are clueless as to where you are, seeing water flood the floor and a red light lighten whatever was left of the hall. “I wouldn’t know. But I’ll find a way—” a sudden movement in the distance catches your eye, a low growl heard in the shadows shortly after in the same location.

That abrupt pause causing Steve to follow up on what you were going to say. “Y/N? What’s going on?”

Slowly and squinting your eyes to the unknown figures, you raise your hand to press the ear piece to answer, but when Artoo shone a flashlight in the given direction that’s where you saw it, the same aliens dogs from before. Only this time they were much more. All of them lurking your way.

“Shit. Go!” You bellow, feeling Poe take your hand and pull you the opposite way. Not being able to answer Steve and leaving him with just that.

As if you had instructed that same thing to the creatures, they too began to chase after you, their growling increasingly louder. Making you unholster your blaster and barely see the creature jump at you as you looked over your shoulder, it’s claws managing to scratch your shoulder before you shot it—Not like shooting one helped your situation though, more and more came, causing Poe and you to run faster, until a hall came to view. That giving you a rush of excitement that motivated you to run faster.

That excitement turning to relief when you ran into Clint; who was just as surprised and relieved to see other people in this mess—“Run ahead of me, go!” He urged, pulling out multiple arrows from behind him and shooting them to the walls. The arrows causing an explosion seconds after that made all five of you fly forward, hitting the platform with a loud and harsh thud.

A groan escapes your lips, the pain this caused adding to the pain from your fall and the scratch. Ultimately having no time to take a break as more creatures ran your way.

It wasn’t until you come across a dead end did you stop, noticing more red light shining from the opening on top. “Hold this.” Clint instructed as he handed you the gauntlet, “hold on to me and I’ll take you with me to the top.”

Your eyebrows knotted together, fully turning to Poe in slight panic, “what about you?”

Poe looked down to BB8 and shared a assuring smile, “it’s okay BB8’s got me. You go.”

“Now.” Clint stressed. You glance at Poe one last time before taking Clint’s hand, the panic felt in your heart not fading away. Even if you saw how ridiculous Poe looked coming up while hanging onto a rope that was connected to BB8. But maybe that worry, that panic was felt because you had to shoot the creatures down before they could pull you back down. Or maybe it was because of this new and unexpected fight. Whatever it was you couldn’t unfeel it, a small percent of it only being replaced by relief when you all managed to land on the intended platform.

But then again, like expected something ruined the relief. “Oh, hey,” you smiled upon seeing Nebula, handing her the gauntlet when she crouched down next to you.

“Father...l have the stones.”

At her comment you lift your head off the ground to shoot her a puzzled look, and a even more confused comment. “What?”—Nebula pressed her foot on your chest, a blaster quickly pulled to threaten you.

Before either man beside you could try anything, a voice was heard from the hallway, a women coming out shortly after. “Stop.”

Nebula pulled her boot off your chest and moved back, her blaster aimed at your head as the girl approached, a hint of betrayel detected on her voice when she spoke up. “You’re betraying us?”—your eyes slid to a panicked and confused Poe, his blaster half out and his hand out and ready to grab yours, but before he could, the sight of another Nebula shocked him—the correct Nebula?

Regardless, the attention that was once on you went to the Nebula that walked out, in that moment letting Poe pull you off the ground and towards him. Making Clint, Poe and you carefully watch the unevents unfold. Watching as Nebula shot her younger self, in that moment causing the gauntlet to clash onto the floor and letting Clint take it back before urging you all to leave.

“Time to go.”

——

Finally after what seemed to be hours of trying to find a way out of the damned place, light shone from a opening, loud commotion heard from the outside—

“Red leader. Come in Red leader.” At the sound of the familiar voice coming from within artoo, you instantly freeze, a surprised gasp escaping your lips and tears already pooling your eyes. “Red leader.”

You quickly turn on your heels to catch the comm Artoo shot you, a happy, emotional grin spread on your lips.

“Red leader, this is Red two reporting in. I repeat this is Red two.”

Letting out a shaky exhale you answer in a nervous yet excited manner, “Finn?”

“The one and only.”

You turn to Poe and show the happy grin on your lips. Said man smiling in return. Not only at the news, but at the way your eyes sparkled with so much happiness. It had been too long since he’s noticed that on you. It was something he was going to miss.

“Black leader, we’re here too. Your ship is ready to go.” Jessika announced through his comm, making said man break from his stupor and show a grin.

“Red leader, this is your favorite pilot, Red three. Back from...whatever the hell happened. You better hurry, the battle is currently on going. They need you.”

“Copy that, red three—” you groan remembering that your ship was parked out on a landing strip. One that was now mostly likely destroyed. Great. Because that ship didn’t take you years to modify. “I don’t have a fighter. You’ll have to fly without me.”

“Really? I don’t think that’s true.”

Without hesitation you spin around and face the familiar voice coming from the exit. Spotting no one other than Rey and Chewbacca—before either Poe or you could run to them, BB8 and Artoo shoved past you and rolled towards the two. Both droids beeping happily.

“Rey!” You exclaimed happily, taking no time to run up to her and wrap her in tight hug, an impact that almost made you fall over. “You’re here.” You mused, tears streaming down your cheeks, only pulling away seconds later because you had to.

“Has it really been five years?” Rey wondered in disbelief

Poe nodded as a response before wrapping her in a hug—you then turned to Chewie and embraced him tightly, the Wookiee not hesitating to return the embrace. The feeling of having him hug you after five years making you sob quietly.

Finally after years your family was complete. But and as much as you wanted to just stay attached to the Wookiee, the sight of new hundreds of people battling outside made you pull away.

“One more fight.” You assured them confidently.

“One more fight.” Poe repeated.

——

“Good to be back in the sky and even better to have my squadron back.” You grinned, the panic slowly returning as you noticed the destruction and enemies on the ground and sky alike.

“Oh, as much as I love receiving love, escpiecally from you Red leader, I am more worried about those big flying things coming at us.” Red four retorted.

You sigh as you see a multitude of Leviathans flying at you. “It’s okay we got this. We can circle it. Too much fire power will make it go down...Let’s show this earth people what we got.”

“Copy that, red leader. Let’s give them a show.” Red five commed in, followed by your squadron breaking the ‘V’ formation and circling the Leviathans, blasting it rapidly until you reached the tail and swiftly flipped over to do the same action.

“Five years, really?” Finn came in, offering a distraction while you kept busy on your intended targets. “All I remember is turning to dust and then nothing.”

“Same here.” Red six responded.

“Yeah it was tragedy,” you sighed while dodgeing blasts shot from the creatures. “Half of our galaxy vanished, while the other half didn’t.”

“You?”

“Yeah. Dameron and I have been down here for a long time. We tried to bring you all back before.” You smiled to yourself as a second creature went down, your smile remaining on your lips even after spotting another one.

“Dameron and you?” Finn teased, “wow, please tell us more.”

“Please.” Poe joined.

“I’ll tell you later Finn.”

Poe scoff was heard through the comms before he remarked, “Finn is not even back for a day and you’re already keeping secrets?”

“Precisely.” Your response received a couple of laughs from both squadrons, Artoos snide and unnessicary comments about your life causing a bigger commotion. “Artoo I can “accidentally” scrape your metal head along one of this creatures, don’t forget that.”

The droid answered with sass, something you rolled your eyes to before fully focusing on the Leviathans and did a spin trick to try and shoot the creature all by yourself. A action you needed to repeat while also hearing a different conversation coming from your ear piece.

“Cap! What do you want me to do with this damn thing?”

Steve took a moment to answer, but ultimately doing so with heavy breaths, “Get those stones as far as way as possible!”

“No!” Hulk shouted, “we need to get them back where they came from.”

“No way to get em back. Thanos destroyed the quantum tunnel.” Tony added.

“Hold on!” Scott interjected, “that wasn’t our only time machine.”

Right...the van.

“Anyone see an ugly brown van out there?” You heard Steve ask.

As if by some miracle you caught a glimpse of the brown van. The only bad thing was that it was surrounded by all different kinds of creatures. “Yes!” You exclaimed, “but you’re not going to like where it’s parked!”

Before you could hear the rest of the conversation, your eyes widened as you noticed another creature came flying with its mouth open directly towards you. “I’m going to need you to turn on those boosters and change the guns into rapid fire canons, Artoo...we’re going in.”

Without question, Artoo did as you asked, only getting frantic when you pushed forward, noticing the tip of your ship entering the creatures open mouth.

“What the hell are you doing y/n?” Poe spoke up abruptly. “Get out of there now!”

You inhaled deeply, tightening your grip around your toggle and pushing forward in a quick speed, pressing down your thumb on the guns button and ignoring the rest of Poe’s warnings. You didn’t even know if there was going to be an end to this creature, or if you were going to manage to make a big enough explosion. All you did was hope, and risk your life.

“We’re going to make it out of this thing.” You whispered to yourself, pressing down until the pad of your thumb hurt, briefly shutting your eyes to not see if this was going to end in a terrible outcome.

Was it? Did it end terrible?

Slowly opening one eye, you notice the same dim battle scene going on below, that sight making you open your other eye and a proud grin to tug at your lips. “Yes!” Only it didn’t last as suddenly blasts began to rain down from the main enemy ship. “Red Squadron, listen. Ignore the creatures for now and get to safety!”

“But”

You interrupt, red five, “No! I’m not losing anyone. Main mission now is to avoid being hit.”

“Copy that.” Finn reported in.

Swerving the blasts was harder than you thought, they just came and came without stop. It was unlike anything the first order ever had and you’ve ever faced. When you thought they were going to stop, they didn’t. Seeing it happen only made your nerves boost and your heart to hammer in your chest, not only for yourself but for the people you cared for down below and flying in the sky.

Just when you thought you were going to get out of it well, you saw a blast hit Poe’s ship. “Poe?!”

“It’s okay. I’m okay!” He assured you even if one of his wings was on fire. “I’ll be fine—”

Without being able to see his outcome or hear his response, you had to quickly swerve one more of those stupid creatures that had its ugly mouth open. Barely managing to tilt your fighter on its side as you flew past it. Coming back around to have your eyes already frantically searching for Poe’s ship.

When you finally found it, the ship violently exploded, making a loud cry escape your lips. “NO!” It felt like time had stopped, it felt unreal, like a dream—you wanted this to be one. “Poe....poe.” Your voice cracked, feeling that same fear as before when you found him unconscious under the rubble. Only this time it was more painful. This time it felt like you could hear and feel your heart break. You couldn’t manage to think of what the outcome was.

Your heart just couldn’t allow it.

“Come on, please. Please.” You beg.

“Y/N?”

“Rey?” You gasp, “please I’m begging you check the explosion.

“Y/N...”

“Please Rey.” The blasts that were once raining down stopped compeletly. Now fully focused on something or someone—Not like you really cared at the moment though. All you cared for was hoping Poe was alright.

If he was, you would stop denying it—Denying those feelings that didn’t let you think straight, that were much more powerful than just a simple crush (liking someone for more than five years is not a crush!)

Regardless you couldn’t, just couldn’t lose him.

“He’s alright!” Rey confirmed, making you and both squadrons sigh in relief. “BB8 and him are okay!”

Chewbacca came through the comm, confirming the same thing before you heard Poe’s voice follow shortly after; “just a couple scratches but I’m fine. I managed to eject in time.”

“You’re a horrible pilot.” You remark, wiping away your tears and letting anger quickly replace that fear and sadness you had just felt, “I hate you.”

“Sure.” Poe chuckled, leaving you to focus back on the threats in the sky, now having to instruct both squadrons by yourself. It seemed like an easy task but it wasn’t, their was too much going on. Had to watch as the red blasts coming from your ship tore through the leviathans and contrasted their blues blasts, barely avoiding as one tried to hit you dead on, in that falling right inbetween two.

Right as they were going to close in they both turned to dust. “What the hell?” When you lowered your fighter you saw that the creatures you were all fighting were doing the same too. Only meaning one thing—the realization bringing an exhausted yet happy smile to your face.

It was poetic justice.

The battle was finally done.....but it came at a heavy cost.

——

“Everybody wants a happy ending, right? But it doesn’t always roll that way.”

You gently loop your arm around Steve, pressing your hand on his back in some form of comfort for the loss of his friend...

“Maybe this time. I’m hoping you play this back, it’s in celebration. I hope families are reunited. I hope we get it back. And something like a normal version of the planet has been restored.”

Whatever was going to happen between Steve and you didn’t mean you couldn’t be there for him when he needed you. And even if he didn’t have to say it, you knew he needed someone; it was the way he gently wrapped his arm around your shoulders, the way he held on tightly like he didn’t want to let go. It was a simple yet meaningful gesture...

“If there ever was such a thing. God, what a world. Universe, now. If you told me ten years ago that we weren’t alone. Let alone to this extent, I wouldn’t have been surprised. But come on, who knew?”

And perhaps you didn’t know Tony for long, or really at all, but he helped, he helped bring your family back, helped defeat the army against you. He saved the universe...

“That epic forces of darkness and light that have come into play and for better or worse that’s the reality Morgan’s gonna have to find a way to grow up in.”

He sacrificed himself for his daughter, for his friends, strangers, and the whole galaxy. Even if he was going to be unknown to some he wasn’t going to unknown to you. And neither was Natasha. They both saved everyone. Both made sacrifices that cost them their life. For that you were always going to be grateful. Everyone was...

“So, I thought I’d better record a little greeting, in the case of an untimely death. On my part. I mean not that death at anytime isn’t untimely. This time travel thing we’re going to try and pull off tomorrow it’s got me scratching my head about the survivability of it all. That’s the thing. Then again that’s hero gig, right?”

That’s why you were standing with Steve on the dock. Watching as his wife and daughter expressed their grief and last goodbye. Because Tony was always going to remembered by you...

“Part of the journey is the end. What am I even tripping for? everyhthing is going to workout exactly the way it’s supposed to. I love you three thousand.”

However small his role was in your life, he was going to be remembered, just like Natasha was. Always.

“You guys not coming in? Theirs some good earth food here I think you’ll like.” You mentioned to Finn as you walked towards him.

Finn smiled at your offer, but shook his head, his smile slowly fading away at what he needed to say. “No we’re fine, Poe wants to leave already, he wanted me to give you—”

“What?” You questioned with a soft gasp, ignoring the wrinkled letter Finn was trying to give you. “You guys are leaving?”

“Poe wants to. I told him to wait for you, but he said he couldn’t.” Finn tried to explain.

You swallowed back thickly, blinking to catch the man you were talking about look away as you caught him staring—you wanted to be angry at him for choosing to leave, for not having the balls to say goodbye in person, but the truth was you weren’t mad at him or his choices. You were mad at yourself for choosing to leave in a time like this. For choosing to leave Steve in a time like this.

“So I guess this a goodbye—”

“Just,” You interrupt again, exhaling deeply and already feeling pity for what you were going to do (you were going to do it. But not today.) “wait, okay?”

Finn nodded apprehensively, looking back at Poe who “wasn’t” watching and then back at you, noticing that you were already half way towards the cabin. A new and singular mission in mind. Steve.

It had taken you some time to find said man, but once you did you found him looking out at the lake, seeming to be deeply contemplating something. It took a minute for you to fully walk up to him and for him to notice you were close by. But when he did he showed a sad smile. Make this much harder.

“How are you doing?” Steve queried.

You put a loose strand of hair behind your ear and nod, “my family is back, so I’m feeling happy, but I can’t get losing Natasha out of my head.”

“Yeah...” he paused, his eyes getting watery but showing a smile nonethless, “she would want you to be happy though. I want you to be happy.”

That simple and innocent comment made your smile from before fall compeletly. It’s like he knew what you were trying to get at without having to hear it.

“Steve...” you begin quietly, your eyes focusing on the grass under your feet before focusing on him again. “I love you. You know that. You’re special to me in more ways than one. You helped me move on, helped me grow and look at this world in a different way.” Tears roll down your cheeks, but you continue, have to continue. “You helped me forget and made me happy and feel loved...but I know that we are both not fully here. As much as I hate to admit it.”

Steve nods and places his hand in his pocket, “yeah.”

“Lately something has changed between us. I know you feel it and see it.” You continue, catching some eavesdroppers behind Steve. People who were pretending not to overhear. “It’s been four great years, but I think it’s time to end it here. I’m sorry if you feel like I’ve wasted your time, but know that I did love you and always will...it’s just our hearts are both with someone else.”

“I loved you too, you’ll always have a special place in my heart.” He smiled, “thank you for showing me how to move on, that their was much more to life than the past or fighting. I’ll always remember you.” Steve moves forward and wraps you in a tight hug, one easily returned by wrapping your arms around his neck. A warm smile that reached your eyes present on your lips. “Be happy y/n. I love you.”

You gently move back and press a kiss on his cheek, keeping your hand on his cheek a moment longer. “I love you.” Showing him one last smile you pull away, the both of you holding onto eachothers lingering gaze for another moment before you turned away for the last time and headed towards Finn with a happy grin.

As Finn noticed you walking back he couldn’t help his own smile, letting you wrap your arm around his shoulder and lean your head on his shoulder as you walked towards the Falcon; “Let’s go home.”

——

Home. Finally home.

Even if Coruscant wasn’t really your home, it felt nice to return to your own galaxy after years of being gone. It felt nice to be in a more diverse galaxy, felt nice to have your squadron back, it felt even greater to have your family back....and even if it was a little bit embarrassing to admit, you were happy you kept your title as General (if only because of what you did to help bring everyone back)

Regardless you couldn’t be happier to be home with the people you loved.

“We did it, huh?”

Looking over your shoulder you see Poe walking towards you, a faint smile playing on his lips.

“I’ll say, we literally traveled through time.” You grinned, watching as he came to stand in front of you, discreetly admiring the way the beautiful colors of the fireworks that lit up outside basked part of his face. “Do you still have it?”

Poe lifted his sleeves shirt to show the braclet that you wore to do said time traveling. “Of course I have it, it will be a hell of story to tell the kids.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, out of sudden feeling shy to continue speaking to him.

“I’m surprised you came home.” Poe continued once he noticed you go quiet.

“My family is back,” You scoffed. “Of course I was going to come home. I wasn’t going to stay there.”

“Really? You weren’t going to say with...Steve?” He responded with an obvious jealous tone at the mention of Steve’s name.

“Lately I began to realize something. And the days before the battle and that day most importantly I confirmed it...” You look to the floor and hide the fact of how warm your cheeks felt now, “I...” You exhale deeply and look up to meet his gaze. “The other day when we were in that battle, the both times I thought you died, I was scared shitless. More than I’ve ever been in my entire life. It wasn’t just because you’re my bestfriend or the fact that I would have lost the first person I’ve met that changed my life, but because I would have lost the man I have been in love with since the first day we met.”

Poe swallowed thickly, tears of his own prickling at the corner of his eyes.

“And I understand if you want nothing to do with me after those five years, but—”

“Did you even read my letter?” Poe interrupted.

“You mean the letter I so rudely threw at you?” You chuckled.

“That one.”

You smile wider and you both take a step closer to each other, both your hearts beating wildly and admiring each other like if nothing else existed in this room.

“I love you y/n. I always have and I always will.” Poe continued, a hand reaching to cup your cheek and gently caress it.

“You have to understand though,” you interject as you grab his hand that was on your cheek to gently stroke his knuckles. “I just got out of a four year relationship....I know Steve isn’t here, but I want to respect what we had...I hope you understand.”

Poe grins, leaning in closer to the point your noses touched. “Baby, I’ve been waiting years to be with you, what’s a couple more months.” He pulled away and removed the silver chain around his neck to later place it around you. “Just so everyone knows though.”

You leaned in and smiled, cupping both of his cheeks to press a kiss on his lips. But before you could the door flew open and multiple people were heard coming in, someone gasping to themselves.

“What? When did this happen?” Finn questioned with his eyebrows heavily knotted, “you guys hated each other.”

Poe turned to face his friend and his very untimely interruption. “It’s been five years.” He spoke through gritted teeth.

“Right.”

You moved away from Poe and walked towards Finn, falling with him onto the couch. “A lot has happened through those years, buddy.”

“Yeah, beside you two looking older.”

Rey held back her chuckle and pretended to sound hurt for you both. “Finn, you can’t say that.”

“It’s the truth.”

You rolled your eyes and leaned your head on Poe’s shoulder after he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. “We can begin to tell you what happened, if you guys want.”

Chewbacca growled in agreement to your suggestion, making your grin return.

“Fine.” Finn shrugged, a perplexed look painted on his features as he pointed to Poe and you. “This still feels weird though.”

You scoff, but your smile remains, “oh, just shut up and listen to the story.”

.

.

.

.

A/N- Epilogue??

Tagged- @itsbuckyb1tch​​​​​​​, @kaitlynw011​​​​​​​ , @blushingwueen​​​​​​​ , @80sthottie, @thescarletknight2014​​​​​​​ , @bbuckysbeardd​​​​​​​ , @ellvswriting​​​​​​​ , @sakurashortstack​​​​​​​ , @whatthefrickfrackwereyouthinking​​​​ , @danicalifxrnia​​​​​​​ , @lanatheawesome​​​​​​​​ , @perryoncw​​​​​​​ , @panic-onthegroundsofbrooklyn​​​​​​​ , @abysshaven​​​​​​​ , @valeecruz16​​​​​​​ , @gummy-bears16 , @winchescumberholland​​​​​​​ , @a-somehow-functioning-dumbass​​​​​​​ , @randomhanabananas​​​​​​​ , @just-a-sad-chicken-nugget-xxx​​​​​​ , @awkward117​​​ , @itsfangirlmendes​​ , @princessleah129​

Permanent taglist- @ms-dont-care​ , @commondazy​

[galaxysgal]

Something Witchy This Way Comes Chapter 3: Fill My Heart With Song

Warnings: Swearing, I think?

Wordcount: 1,224

A/N: I love this chapter. So much. It’s literally so fluffy y’all are gonna lose your shit. And again, huge thanks to my beta @honeykiwis :))) Dedicated to @poesflygirl who was with me the whole time i was writing this chapter, ily sis and i hope you like the final product. Posting early because I cant wait any longer!!

Read Here on my Ao3

xxx xxx xxx xxx

“You can’t be serious, you’ve never danced before?”

Finn shook his head for the millionth time. “Nope,” he replied, popping the ‘p’ and tilting his head up towards Poe. The sun had gone down long ago, the two now snuggled in soft firelight and the glow of the TV, content in being together. They were lounging on the couch watching the Harry Potter marathon on SyFy, Finn still recovering from his vision the previous day. Poe’s feet are propped up on a footstool while Finn leaned back on his chest, BB-8 sleeping in his lap. On screen Harry and Hermione were dancing to some song about trains, Finn had always thought it was cute, and so he had said something about it. This, of course, had led Poe to ask Finn about his dancing preferences and from there the truth came out. Finn had never danced before.

The orange glow of the fireplace cast dancing shadows across Poe’s features as he looked down at Finn, puzzlement in his eyes. Finn grinned in disbelief, chuckling a little. “What!? So what if I’ve never danced before? It’s not like I’ve been in all these relationships before like you have, I didn’t even have a date to my senior prom!”

“So you’re telling me no one in your entire school took a shot at this wonderful piece of ass right here,” he says, reaching down to grab Finn’s butt. “No one claimed this cute little tush? No one?”

Finn grinned at his boyfriend’s antics, wiggling around and waking BB-8 by accident. “No one,” he told him.

“No one,” Poe repeated, like Finn had just told him some unbelievable thing, like he said that Gwendolyn Gegonia wasn’t the founder of Gegonia Institute, or sage wasn’t useful in cleansing.

“Nope!” It was kinda cute, the way Poe lifted his eyebrows and his eyes went all wide, so Finn didn’t really mind the questions. It was lighthearted and fun.

“Not a single one of those crazy teenage girls with their chunky highlights?”

Finn laughed loudly at that one, startling Coraline who was lounging across the room on the cat tower. “Not a single one of them. I ended up going with Rey-”

“Aha!” Poe exclaimed, “so you did go to prom,” he said, as if that was supposed to make everything click in the puzzle of questions he was asking.

“And?”

“And you didn’t dance?”

“No, of course I danced-”

“Exactly! See I knew it couldn’t be true.” Poe smiled triumphantly, and Finn shook his head some more.

“No, you see, I’ve done like, this-” he did a horrendous rendition of the electric slide from his spot on the couch, “and this-” he did a half hearted cabbage patch-

“You did the cabbage patch?” Poe wheezed, “baby thats so- oh god-”

“Shut up! And I know this, and this-” he moved his arms in the steps of the macarena, then did a little approximation of the wobble, “and this thing-” he ended with the Cupid Shuffle. “Quit laughing!” Poe was dying with laughter, infectious and bubbly, and Finn found himself laughing too despite his words.

Poe grabbed the remote, muting the TV and pulling Finn off the couch. “That’s it, you’re getting dancing lessons. Right. Now.”

Finn ducked his head shyly, “I’m not much of a dance- woah!”

Poe grabbed him by the hips and pulled him close. “Nonsense! It’s like that guy from Ratatouille said, ‘anyone can dance!’”

“I’m pretty sure it’s ‘anyone can cook.’”

Poe shushed him, taking his hands and humming what sounded like salsa music. “Just follow my lead, I’ve got you. Right leg first.” He squeezed Finn’s hands, giving him a soft smile. He tapped the tempo onto Finn’s palm. “Alright, and back and shift and front and shift and-”

Finn and his two left feet went the wrong way, bumping right into Poe and nearly knocking him over. “Sorry!” he reached out to grab Poe before he could fall, pulling him back up. He felt heat blooming on his cheeks, “Poe I’m not-”

“No no sweetheart, I started too hard, that’s on me,” he locked eyes with Finn, telling him there was no need to apologize. “Let’s try something a little easier, yeah?”

“You sure?” Finn felt a little uneasy, afraid to mess up again.

“Of course.” Poe kissed him sweetly, his lips quelling Finn’s fears.

Poe wiggled his fingers at a record player in the corner and it crackled to life, rich smooth sound pouring from the bell and greeting Finn’s ears like a warm embrace. He recognized the song, Fly Me To The Moon by Frank Sinatra. Poe grinned like an idiot, taking Finn’s hands once again.

“Fly me to the moon, let me play among the stars,” he sang softly, stepping side to side in time with the music. “Let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars.”

Finn was smiling now, soft and gentle as Poe led him across the floor. They twirled and rocked in time with the beat, in time with each other. When Poe looked at him with those soft brown eyes, Finn began to think that maybe dancing wasn’t so bad after all.

“In other words, hold my hand. In other words, baby kiss me,” Poe grinned goofily, angling for a kiss, and of course Finn gave it to him. “Fill my heart with song and let me sing forever more. You are all I long for, all I worship and adore.”

Finn lifted his arm, twirling Poe around a couple of times. His smile was brighter than Finn had ever seen, it warmed his heart and sent butterflies into his stomach. It was like every moment with Poe was his first, nervous and excited and filled to the brim with anticipation.

“In other words, please be true,” Poe pulled him close, rocking them side to side, “in other words, I love you.” His stubble scratched at Finn’s skin as he kissed him repeatedly.

The music grew louder through the instrumental break and Finn found himself letting go, throwing his head back with carefree laughter. Everything was just so… warm. So perfectly comfortable and safe, here in their living room in the low light. Poe was serenading him, his voice like honey, guiding him across the floor as they danced.  It was easy, and before Finn knew it the song was over.

Poe pulled him impossibly closer, bringing his lips in close enough to brush Finn’s ear. “I’m so fucking glad you’re here now,” he murmured as the next song began.

Finn felt his heart swell as he buried his face in Poe’s shoulder. He inhaled the scent of cinnamon, clove, and spiced cider. A mix that was so overwhelmingly Poe that Finn thought he might combust. “Me too,” he whispered, clinging to Poe with everything he had.

The music surrounded them, lulling them into a loving silence in which they just swayed and held each other, happy to finally be together.

Never thought that you would be, standing here so close to me, there’s so much I feel that I should say, but words can wait until another day

Kiss me once, then kiss me twice, then kiss me once again, it’s been a long long time, Haven’t felt like this my dear since can’t remember when, it’s been a long, long time…

End.

Taglist: @tinyphantomsalad @imasunflower00 @shibasus @stormpilotsrus @kitmarloweki @wheeliebinbyers @xwings-can-fly @waywaychuck

[buzzdixonwriter]

My Five Most Influential

Someone asked:   Who are the most influential writers in your life?

Good question.

The broad answer is that one gets influenced many different ways by many different sources.  I enjoy poetry and song lyrics because they find ways of conveying the strongest emotional content in the most concise manner, music brings a sense of dramatic rhythm and fulfillment, the visual arts suggest ways of subtly adding many insights to a single strong idea, etc., etc., and of course, etc. (and that is also an example of a creative influence in my work).

But…to boil it down to those whom I most consciously made an effort to emulate, we find ourselves facing five creators that primed the pump.

This is not to say others whom I began following after them didn’t wield a lot of influence (thanx, Ernie, Bert, Jack, Bob, and Hank!) but these are the foundation of everything I’ve done in my career.

(And to those who notice a lack of diversity, I know, I know…but to be honest I have to acknowledge the truth, and the truth is for whatever reason, by chance or by choice, by fate or by fortune, these five dominated my sensibilities.  I trust that I’ve grown and expanded my horizons since then, but they’re the hand I got dealt.)

. . . 

Carl Barks

I loved ducks as a kid and my grandmother and aunt would always bring me a passel of duck-related comics when they came to visit.

There were some Daffy Duck comics mixed in there but while I know I looked at and enjoyed them, none of them stick in my mind like the Donald Duck and Uncle Scrooge stories of Carl Barks.

Typically my grandmother would read these comics to me and I’d imprint the dialog and captions in my brain, replaying them as I looked at the pictures over and over again.

Barks never wrote down to his audience, and his stories covered a vast array of genres, everything from straight domestic comedy to oddball adventures to screwy crime stories.

Donald and his nephews encountered dinosaurs more than once (another big favorite of mine), and Uncle Scrooge setting out to explore the asteroid belt in order to find a new home for his fabulous money bin was another tale I loved literally to pieces, but A Christmas For Shacktown remains my all time favorite graphic novel.

I’ll concede there are better graphic novels, but none of them warm my heart the way that Christmas story does.

Barks showed it’s possible to combine heart (not to be confused with sentimentality or =yuch!= schmaltz), vivid characters, and strong, intricate narrative.  His plots where typically filled with unexpected twists and turns but his characters were always deeply involved in them, not just along for the ride.

He’s one of the greatest storytellers in the 20th century, and his work remains timeless enough to last for several centuries to come.

. . . 

Ray Bradbury

The first Ray Bradbury story I remember encountering was “Switch On The Night” in its 1955 edition, read to my kindergarten class towards the end of the school year.

This would place the event sometime in the spring of 1959.

“Switch On The Night” captivated me because it was the first story I’d ever heard that showed what could be seen in the dark that couldn’t be seen in the day.

Even as a child, it made me realize the night wasn’t scary, but contained wonders and insights we miss in the harsh glare of day.

I don’t recall if the kindergarten teacher told us the name of the author, and if she did it didn’t stick, but boy howdy, the story sure did!  Did it open the doors of the night for me, or was I already inclined to be a night person and it simply confirmed that as a valid identity?

I dunno, but I’m typing this right now at 12:24am.

And the thoughts Bradbury planted in little Buzzy boy’s brain stayed and grew and flowered, as you can read in my poem, “The Magic Hours Of The Night”.

The next time I encountered Ray Bradbury’s writing was in grammar school, certainly no later than junior high.  I was already interested in science fiction by that point, and had read “The Pedestrian” in one of my school English books (we weren’t taught the story in class; the teacher skipped over it for whatever reason but I read it anyway then re-read it and read it again and again).

Anthony Boucher’s ubiquitous 2-volume A Treasury Of Great Science Fiction was in my grammar school library and in it was Bradbury’s “Pillar Of Fire” (which I would later learn was one of his alternate Martian Chronicles and a crossover with Fahrenheit 451) and in that story he offered up a veritable laundry list of outré and outlandish fiction to be tracked down and read, authors to dig up and devour.

Oh, man, I was hooked.

So of course I began looking for all the stories and writers Bradbury listed in his short story but I also began looking for Bradbury’s own work and before you could say, “Mom, can I get a subscription to the Science Fiction Book Club?” I’d read The Golden Apples Of The Sun and A Medicine For Melancholy and R is For Rocket never once dreaming that at some point in the future the roadmap Ray plopped down in my lap would eventually lead to us being co-workers (separate projects, but the same studio at the same time) and friends.

There is a beautiful yet deceptive simplicity to Ray’s work, and even though he wrote his own book on writing (The Zen Of Writing) that has lots of good insights and professional tricks & tips, he himself wasn’t able to explain how he did it.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a good Ray Bradbury parody.

I’ve seen parodies that clearly are intended to evoke Ray Bradbury, but only in the same way a clumsy older relative might evoke Michael Jackson with a spasmodic movement one vaguely recognizes as a failed attempt at a moonwalk.

But, lordie, don’t think we didn’t try to emulate him, and while none of us fanboys ever came close, I think a lot of us did learn that less is more, that the right word carries more impact than a dozen paragraphs, and that there’s magic in even the most ordinary of things.

And of course I discovered the film and TV adaptations of his work, and in discovering them I also discovered that there are some things that just can’t be translated from one media to another, and that the light, effortless appeal of Ray’s work on the page (paper or pixel) can at best be recaptured with a good audio book reader but even the best dramatic adaptions -- even those by Ray himself -- are cold dead iron butterflies compared to the light and lively creatures flying about.

So eventually I stopped trying to write like him, and instead picked up the valuable lessons of mood and emotion making an impact on a story even if the plot didn’t make much logical sense.

Decades later I would become a fan of opera, and would learn the philosophy of all opera lovers:  Opera doesn’t have to make logical sense, it just has to make emotional sense.

Ray Bradbury, opera meister.

. . . 

H.P. Lovecraft

As noted above, Bradbury’s “Pillar Of Fire” tipped me to numerous other writers, first and foremost of which turned out to be Howard Phillips Lovecraft.

Okay, before we get any further into this, let’s acknowledge the woolly mammoth in the room:  H.P. Lovecraft was a colossal asshat racist.

He was a lot of other terrible things, too, but racist is far and ahead of the rest of the pack.

It’s a disillusioning thing to find people one admired as a youngster or a teen later prove to have not just quirks and eccentricities and personal flaws, but genuinely destructive, harmful, and offensive characters.

I’ve posted on that before, too.

How I wish it were possible to retroactively scale back that hurtfulness, to make them more empathetic, less egregiously offensive (in the military sense of the word), but that ain’t so.

We have to acknowledge evil when we see it, and we have to call it out, and we have to shun it.

Which is hard when one of its practitioners provides a major influence in our creative lives.

Here’s what I liked about Lovecraft as a kid:  He was the complete opposite of Ray Bradbury.

Bradbury’s instinctive genius was in finding the right word, the simple word that conveyed great impact on the story, drawing the reader into the most fantastic situations by making them seem more familiar on a visceral level.

Lovecraft achieved the exact opposite effect by finding the most arcane, bedizened, baroque, florid, grandiloquent, overwrought, rococo verbiage possible and slapping the reader repeatedly in the face with it.

If Bradbury made the unreal real, Lovecraft made the weird even more weirder.

And let’s give this devil his due:  The Strange Case Of Charles Dexter Ward and The Dunwich Horror are two masterpieces of horror and serve as the bridge between Edgar Allen Poe and Stephen King, not to mention his creation of Cthulhu and other ancient entities existing beyond the ken of human knowledge…

…oh, wait, that’s where the story simultaneously gets messy yet provides a convenient escape hatch for fans.

While Lovecraft created Cthulhu, he did not create the Cthulhu Mythos.

That was primarily the invention August Derleth, a writer / editor / agent and H.P. Lovecraft’s #1 fanboy.

Lovecraft had some loosely related ideas in his stories and several themes he revisited repeatedly (in addition to racism).

He also had a circle of fellow writers -- including such heavy hitters as Robert “Psycho” Bloch and Robert E. “Conan” Howard -- who picked up on his ideas and, as way of a tribute, incorporated them in some of their stories.

Derleth took all this and Lovecraft’s unfinished manuscripts and short ideas he jotted down and turned it into a whole post-mortem industry, linking all of Lovecraft and other writers’ tales.

And he did a damn fine job of it, too.

So much so that the Cthulhu Mythos has taken on a life of its own, and pretty much anybody can play in that cosmic sandbox now (including Big Steve King and a ton of Japanese anime) and so Lovecraft’s works have an enormous influence on pop culture…

,,,but Howard hizzowndamsef can be -- and is -- cancelled.

Derleth and various biographers downplayed Lovecraft’s virulent racism for decades, and I don’t think Ray Bradbury was ever aware of the scope and tenor of Lovecraft’s bigotry when he name checked him in “Pillar Of Fire” and other stories.

In a similar vein Bradbury didn’t know -- because thanks again to overly protective literary executors, nobody knew -- just how big a racist asshat Walt Whitman was, either.  It is one thing to call shenanigans on a Bill Cosby or a Harvey Weinstein or a Donald Trump because their egregious behaviors were noted long before they were held accountable, but quite another to do so on a creator who died while hiding their most awful behavior from thousands if not millions of fans who felt inspired and uplifted by their work.

It’s one thing to call out a contemporary bigot and not support them by not buying their work, it’s quite another when their bigotry has been shielded from view and fair minded, decent people have used their work to draw inspiration into their own creativity.

Of course, I had no way of knowing all this when I was in junior high and seriously began tracking down Lovecraft’s work.  

He possessed a flair of the horrific and unearthly that to this day is hard to match (but easier to parody).  He was a tremendous influence on my early writing (truth be told, I zigzagged between Bradbury’s stark simplicity and Lovecraft’s overarching verbosity, giving my early oeuvre a rather schizophrenic style) and the ideas he sparked still reverberate to this day.

If only he hadn’t been such a giant %#@&ing asshat racist …

. . . 

Harlan Ellison

In a way, I’m glad neither Harlan nor his widow Susan are alive to read this.

I cherished Harlan as a friend and greatly admired his qualities as a writer.

But damn, by his own admission he should have been thrown in prison for aggravated assault on numerous occasions (he was courts martialed three times while in the Army).

We’re not talking about arguments that spiraled out of control until a few wild punches were thrown, we’re talking about Harlan by his own admission stalking and ambushing people, knocking them unconscious or causing grievous bodily harm.

We’re talking about sexual abuse and humiliation.

We’re talking about incidents he admitted to which if true put people in life threatening situations.

And yet ironically, in a certain sense Harlan (a bona fide Army Ranger, BTW) was like the U.S. Marine Corps:  You’d never have a greater friend or a worse enemy.

I became dimly aware of Harlan in the late 1960s as I started diving deeper into literary sci-fi, transitioning from monster kid fandom to digests and paperbacks.  Harlan first caught my attention with his macho prose (years later a similar style also drew me to Charles Bukowski) in stories like “Along the Scenic Route” (a.k.a. “Dogfight on 101”) in which Los Angelinos engaged in Mad Max motor mayhem but soon it became apparent the macho posturing was just a patina, that the heart and soul of much of the work reflected great sensitivity and often profound melancholy (ditto Bukowski).

Harlan was a fighter, and again by his own admission, he acknowledged in his later years that he was not a fighter because his cause was just, but rather sought out just causes because he knew he would be fighting regardless of his position, yet possessed a strong enough moral compass to point himself in the direction of a worthy enemy…

…most of the time.

He hurt and offended a large number of innocent and some not-so-innocent-but-certainly-not-evil people.

He also helped and encouraged a large number of others, people who had no idea who he was, people who had no way of adequately reciprocating his kindness and generosity.

He defended a lot of defenseless people.

He also mistakenly defended a lot of terrible people.

If someone tells me Harlan was a monster, I’ll agree:  Monstre sacré.

What made his writing sacred was that no matter how outlandish the situation, Harlan dredged up from the depths emotions so strong as to be frightening in their depiction.

Skilled enough not to lose sight of humanity, outlandish enough to conjure up ideas and emotions most people would shy away from, Harlan hit adolescent Buzzy boy like an incendiary grenade.

Unlike my first three literary influences, Harlan was and remained active in the fannish circles where I was circulating at the time.  He regularly wrote letters and columns for various fanzines, including a few I subscribed to.

In a literary sense he stood, naked and unashamed, in full view of the world, and that willingness to go beyond mundane sensibilities is what made his work so compelling.

He certainly fired me up as an adolescent writer, and proved an amalgam of Bradbury and Lovecraft that got my creative juices flowing in a coherent direction.

I don’t think I ever consciously tried to imitate him in my writing, but I sure learned from him, both in how to charge a story with emotion and how to fight for what’s right regardless of the blow back.

I loved him as a friend.

But, damn, Harlan…you could act so ugly...

. . .

H. Allen Smith

Who?

Most of you have never heard of H. Allen Smith, and that’s a damn shame.

I’d never heard of him either until I stumbled across a coverless remaindered copy of Poor H. Allen Smith’s Almanac in a Dollar General Store bin in Tennessee in the late 1960s (it was a memorable shopping expedition:  I also purchased Thomas Heggen’s Mister Roberts and Let’s Kill Uncle by Rohan O'Grady [pen name of June Margaret O'Grady Skinner]).

Reading Smith’s editorial comments (in addition to his own essays and fiction he edited numerous humor anthologies) I realized I’d found a kindred soul.

Smith had a very conversational tone as a writer; his prose seemed off the cuff and unstructured, but he slyly used that style to hide the very peculiar (and often perverse) path he led readers down.

He sounded / read like a garrulous guy at the bar, one with a huge number of charming, witty (and delightfully inebriated) friends in addition to his own bottomless well of tall tales, pointed observations, and rude jokes.

Of all the writers mentioned above, that style is the one I most consciously tried to emulate, and one I seem to have been able to find my own voice in (several people have told me I write the same way I talk, a rarity among writers).

Smith was hilarious whether wearing an editor’s visor or a freelancer’s fool’s cap.  If you know who H. L. Mencken was, think of Smith as a benign, better tempered version of that infamous curmudgeon (and if you don’t know, hie thee hence to Google and find out).

Compared to my other four influences, Smith didn’t need to add the fantastic to his fiction:  The real world was weird and wacky and whimsical enough.

A newspaper man turned best selling author, Smith became among the most popular humorists of the 1940s-50s-60s…

…and then he died and everybody forgot him.

Part of the reason they forgot is that he wrote about things that no longer seem relevant (TV cowboys of the early television era, f’r instance, in Mr. Zip) or are today looked upon askance (and with justifiable reason; the ethnic humor in many of his anthologies may not have been intended as mean spirited, but it sure doesn’t read as a celebration of other cultures, viz his succinct account of an argument following a traffic accident between two native Honolulu cabbies rendered in pidgin:  “Wassamatta you?”  “’Wassmatta me’?!?!?  Wassamatta you ‘Wassamatta me’?  You wassamatta!”).

I’m sure I picked up a great many faults from Smith, but Smith also had the virtue of being willing and able to learn and to make an effort to be a better person today than he was yesterday, and better still tomorrow.

I’ve certainly tried applying that to my life.

Smith’s style was also invoked -- consciously or not -- by other writers and editors, notably Richard E. Geis, the editor of the legendary sci-fi semi-prozone, Science Fiction Review (among other titles).  Smith died before I could meet him, but while I never met Dick Geis face to face we were pen pals for over 40 years.

Geis certainly sharpened specific aspects of my writing style, but the real underlying structure came from H. Allen Smith.

Smith’s work is hard to find today (in no small part because whenever I encounter one in the wild I snap it up) but I urge you to give him a try.

Just brace yourself for things we might consider incorrect today.

. . . 

So there’s my top five. 

With the exception of Carl Barks and Ray Bradbury, none of them are without serious flaw or blemish (though Smith seems like a decent enough sort despite his fondness for X-rated and ethnic humor).

In my defense as an impressionable child / teen, I was not aware of these flaws and blemishes when I first encountered their writing (primarily because in many cases efforts were made to hide or downplay those aspects).

The positive things I gleaned from them are not negated by the negative personal information that came out later.

I can, for the most part re the more problematic of them, appreciate their work while not endorsing their behavior.

Ellison can only be described in extremes, but his fire and passion -- when directed in a positive direction -- served as a torch to light new paths (his two original anthologies, Dangerous Visions and Again, Dangerous Visions, pretty much blew the doors off old school sci-fi and belatedly dragged the genre kicking and screaming into the 20th century).

Lovecraft I can effectively ignore while finding entertainment value in the Cthulhu Mythos.

But I must acknowledge this isn’t the same for everyone.

For example, as innocuous as I find H. Allen Smith, if a woman or a member of a minority group said, “I found this in particular to be offensive” I’d probably have to say, yeah, you’re right.

But I can still admire the way he did it, even if I can no longer fully support what he did.

. . . 

By the time I reached high school, I’d acquired enough savvy to regard to literary finds a bit more dispassionately, appreciating what they did without trying to literally absorb it into my own writing.

I discovered for myself the Beat generation of writers and poets, the underground cartoonists of the late 60s and 70s, Ken Kesey, Joseph Heller, Philip K. Dick, Ursula K. LeGuin, and a host of others, some already alluded to.

Some, such as the Beats and Bukowski, I could enjoy for their warts and all honest self-reflection.

Yes, they were terrible people, but they knew they were terrible people, and they also knew there had to be something better, and while they may never have found the nirvana they sought, they at least sent back accurate reports of where they were in their journeys of exploration.

By my late teens, I’d become aware enough of human foibles and weaknesses -- every human’s foibles and weaknesses, including my own -- to be very, very cautious in regarding an individual as admirable.

While I will never accept creativity as an excuse for bad behavior, if a creator is honest enough and self-introspective enough to recognize and acknowledge their own failings, it goes a long way towards my being willing to enjoy their work without feeling I’m endorsing them as individuals.

It’s not my place to pass judgment or exoneration on others bad behavior.

It is my place to see that I don’t emulate others’ bad behavior.

Every creator is connected to their art, even if it’s by-the-numbers for-hire hack work.

Every creator puts something of themselves into the final product.

And every member of the audience must decide for themselves if that renders the final product too toxic to be enjoyed. 

    © Buzz Dixon

[nadineselfships-archived]

I was tagged by @lildreamysoul to answer questions with Wade!! I am really excited to do this thank you Ash!! 💜💜

Yes, thank you Ash, it was about time I got my well deserved screen time! I'm sure you all missed me, I know I missed you!

Of course they missed you, now let's get into these questions!

Lay 'em on me baby!

1. Introduce yourselves. Who are you? What do you like to do?

Your local dumbass Nadine reporting for duty! I work with my sibling Remy at our company Sinclaire Industries but I spend most of my time at Wade and I's home, avoiding paperwork and taking care of the kids.

And I am the one and only Deadpool, might of heard of me or seen my movies? With Reynolds, yeah, that guy can play me any day, what a cutie amirite? But anyway, if you somehow don't know me, I'm the adorable merc with a mouth that never shuts up and i somehow tricked Nadine into marrying me.

We used to like to do a lot of dumb shit together, if you saw us anywhere there would be a building on fire somewhere behind us and probably unholy demons we accidentally unleashed chasing us after stealing something we shouldn't have.

Ah, good times. Yeah, now days we spend every second spoiling the kiddos, spending as much time with them as possible. My favourite part of the week is family movie night, nothing feels better then being in a giant cuddle pile of people you'd do anything for.

2. How was your first meeting like?

So, that's a funny story actually, real funny–I mean, really, hilarious if you will.

He was trying to break into the company building and crashed through the window in one of the meeting rooms, where I just so happened to be, in a meeting. Even better, right, he landed on top of me, glass sticking out of him literally everywhere.

I like to think I made a good first impression.

It was an impression, that's for sure.

3. How did you get together? Who confessed first?

Honestly it was a shock either of us managed to just accept our feelings, telling each other was a whole other ballgame. But, I got frustrated and decided to just tell him how i felt and that uhm, went, bad. It went bad.

It didn't–It wasn't, that, bad.

You fell off the statue of liberty and didn't talk to me for two weeks.

It was a lot to take in! How are you supposed to deal with a heartfelt confession from your crush?

I don't know–I got him to talk to me eventually anyway, I just had to corner him in an alleyway which was easy because he'd been following me like a creep. We decided to take it slow from there and well, here we are!

4. What are your thoughts on PDA

I never used to be a fan of it because of my social anxiety but Wade makes me feel safe and when i'm with him i forget about everything else and don't mind smothering him in kisses no matter where we are or who's watching!

PDA is my jam. I don't care what's happening I'm gonna be lovin' on my baby, kisses, cuddles n' all that good stuff, anytime, anywhere! Not even the end of the world could keep me away from giving Nadine the love they deserve!

You're making it mushy s t o p abshdhfakdk-

5. How do you show your affection towards each other/what are your love languages?

Oh gosh I dunno, I guess we do a lot of everything? Mainly physical touch though, we like to show how we feel through our actions but I do like to tell Wade I love him at least a million times a day.

Yeah, we don't really do gifts or anything, but we do take care of each other and sometimes has those mushy three am conversations about how much we mean to each other. And I don't say it a million times a day but I do leave sticky notes for Nadine to find throughout the day, not sure what that counts as.

It counts as being the best husband in the world. 💜💜

I'll take that!

6. Who's more introverted and who's more extroverted?

Nadine is my cute lil' hermit who likes to live in their cave while I'm their brave, handsome social butterfly–Gotta lot of friends and fans to keep up with yanno.

Yeah, ideally I'd never leave the house, but I got a job to do and kids to take to school, Wade just has a higher social meter than I do.

7. Who's the big spoon and who's the little spoon?

Wade is the little spoon and I'm the big spoon!! I love holding him around his waist and nuzzling my face into his back!!

Sometimes we'll have one or three of the kiddos crawl into bed with us and then it's more of a cuddle pile than anything. The cutest, most comfortable cuddle pile ever.

8. What do you like doing together most?

If it's just the two of us? I love when we get to sleep in and cuddle in bed, talking and barely making sense and sharing lazy kisses and just, not having to think about anything else. I love that.

Awe babe I'm gonna cry! I gotta agree that's some healing shit, nothing better. Well, I do have another favourite activity to do in bed but we'll keep to the sweet stuff today.

9. Tell us a fun fact about the other!

Wade will stay up all night sometimes just watching the kids, it's really sweet and it also means I don't have to get up if the baby starts crying because Wade's already there rocking her and singing her a lullaby. Fun fact, he's a great dad.

Okay wow, just expose me like that then. Two can play at that game dearest; Nadine was so worried about the kids having good birthdays they planned a lot of them up until their eighteenths, with wiggle room for shifting interests, which, I think, is the most adorable thing in the world.

Shut up that's, a normal parent thing.

Not it's not babe, it's really not. But it's very cute. ❤

10. Tag other selfshippers and their f/o's.

Okay let's see, we tag; (feel free to ignore this if you're not feeling up to it, i tried to tag everyone who interacted with the post i made💜)

@space-sweetheart and Fredrick

@pink-n-purple-honey and Ramuda

@millizines and Earnest

@rose-wine-selfships and Atsushi

@shippin-in-the-rain and Soren

@promptoargentumsgirlfriend and Prompto

@poetryandnightmares and Julian

@thedevilsrosee and Kali

@jinxthequeergirl and Poe

@houseof1000selfships and Cad

@disneymarina and Leon

@puppy-self-ship and Freddy

@pkselfship and Sylvain

@wildcardwithaheart and Loki

@lovesick-clownlord and Hades

@jaklovemail and Ash

@junkratsloverat and Jamie

@ollievoil and Robotnik and Stone

And anyone else who wants to do this!!

[goodwriterwithbadhabits]

Eternally Yours

(I was in a hardcore Soft mood for like three days and this is what came of it. 

Sorry bout the ending.)

Masterlist

Pairing: Chanyeol x Writer!Reader. Married! AU ft. Kaisoo

~~

You had no intention of waking up, but when a breeze shifted your curtain and allowed a shaft of sunlight to practically punch you in the eye, it was hard to drift back off. You turned away from the window, finding yourself face to face with your sleeping husband. Somehow he looked stunning, even in his sleep. His lashes were fanning across his cheeks, his hair was ruffled and sticking up in odd places and his plump lips were parted slightly, letting quiet snores emit. Not even seconds later his phone on the bedside table began ringing loudly. His eyes snapped open, locking onto yours for a moment, making him smile.

“Phone.” You reminded him. Sitting up he answered, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. You followed him, squishing your face into his back and wrapping your arms around his torso. As he spoke he began absentmindedly playing with your finger, specifically the ring on your left hand. 

“Hello? Ah good morning Xiumin Hyung.”

“Hi, Xiumin.” You mumbled against his broad back.

“Y/n says hi as well.” He moved the phone towards you so you could hear Xiumin shout.

“Good morning Mrs. Park.” Chan grinned at that, moving the phone back to his ear.

“Look, Xiumin hyung I'm going to be completely honest with you. There is literally nothing you could tell me that would make me come in today.” He confessed, making you chuckle lightly. He smiled at your actions, as he listened to what his elder was saying. “If the building was on fire I would calmly drink a glass of water and watch.”

“You're so mean in the morning.” You laughed lightly. “Where did you even learn that phrase?”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow, hyung.” He bid, hanging up the phone and tossing it on your side of the bed. “Was I too mean?” You shook your head, still pressed to his back.

“Not at all Yeol, Xiumin will understand.” You reasoned.

Nearly 4 years ago, when Park Chanyeol had announced that he had a girlfriend, everyone expected her to be like him. They expected a musician or an actress or at least a producer, but what they got was something else entirely. You were an author, and more than that, you had been nicknamed the “Modern Mother of Horror” after your novels had found themselves on every shelf across the globe. You were darkness, you were the creep factor, you gave seminars on how to write the perfect crime novels and how to discuss realistic demons.

You didn't seem Chanyeol's type.

Chanyeol was the human embodiment of a golden retriever, and you were the amalgamation of H.P. Lovecraft, Edgar Allen Poe and Stephen King. Yet still, he loved you, he stayed with you and one day, he married you.

“Do you want coffee?” He asked, eyes barely open.

“If you make breakfast, I'll make dinner.” You offered, pulling away from him to sit up fully and stretch. He glanced back at you, a smile forming on his lips as he saw your tired yawn. Somehow, despite having such a long relationship, the sight of you in one of his shirts still made his heart flutter.

“Good morning.” He finally said.

“Good morning, Yeobo.” You greeted back. He leaned towards you, capturing your lips in a good morning kiss.

“Did you want to go to the gym today?” He asked, laying back down next to you, resting his head on your leg. Your hand immediately went to his hair, combing your fingers through the brown locks.

“Not right now, it's too early.” You both laughed.

“Understandable.” He stared up at you quietly, admiring your face. He always felt like a schoolboy with a crush when he saw you. “How about, I make breakfast while you shower and we can see where today takes us?”

“Sounds good to me.” You nodded. He grinned, leaning up to kiss you again before bouncing off the bed. “How are you always so hyper in the morning?”

“I just have to see that ring on your finger and I feel like I could take on the world.” He confessed.

“Cheese ball.” You teased, but the smile on your face assured him you loved him for it.

~~

When you two had met, nearly 5 years ago, neither of you expected where you were now. He had come to your book signing in Berlin, being a huge fan of your most recent series. When he arrived, it was later in the signing and you were mostly just having fun with your fans. You walked among them, giving hugs and autographs, it looked more like a party than a book signing. He planned to have his security guard approach you when the event was drawing to a close but when he saw how your face light up when Power was suddenly played over the speakers, he couldn't help himself. He approached you slowly like he was a scared deer.

“Um, hello.” He mumbled in English. You turned to him, and when your eyes met his, he couldn't help but smile under his mask.

“Hi.”

“I'm Chan, I love your writing.” He told you, gripping his copy of your novel against his chest. The smile that blossomed on your face made his heart flutter.

“Hi, Chan. It's nice to meet you. I'm Y/n.” You held out a hand, and he quickly wiped his sweaty palm on his sweater before shaking it. “Would you like me to sign your book?” You asked, gesturing to the copy he held.

“Oh yes please.” He held out the book almost shyly. When you saw that it was in Korean, your grin increased. “You're Korean?” You asked, in Korean. He stared at you wide-eyed before nodding.

“Yes, I had no idea you spoke the language.” “I actually rewrote the Korean versions to better fit the language.” You explained, scribbling something on the inner cover. “Is Chan short for something?”

“Chanyeol.” Your eyes darted from the book to his face, then to the security guard behind him. You smirked up at him, nodding slowly as you figured it out.

“Well then Mr. Chan, here you are.” You handed him the book back, no with a message to him in Korean.

“Thank you, you're awesome. I wish I could repay you, for rewriting the books in Korean, it must take a lot of work.” He gushed.

“Thanks, Chan.” You smiled softly up at him. “Actually, are you busy in about,” You glanced at your watch, “Half an hour?”

“No, why?”

“Well, I was supposed to have dinner with my publisher but she's just left for South Korea, would you like to join me?” His stomach did about 40 somersaults then exploded into a cloud of butterflies.

“I'd love to.”

~~

Smiling at the framed selfie on your desk, the memories of your first date flooded your mind.

“Hey babe, what's up?” His voice broke her out of her thoughts, tearing her eyes away from the photo to find him standing in the doorway. He made his way over to her, resting his head on hers, and looking at the writing on the computer. “I stopped hearing typing to I came to see if you had fallen asleep or died.” He joked, making them both laugh.

“I ran out of inspiration and ended up distracted.” You confessed. He hummed, the vibrations being felt on the back of your head.

“Distracted by me?”

“Aren't I always?” To moved your head away from him, kissing his jaw lightly. The grin on his face as he looked down at you was endearing.

“Mm, I also came to tell you that Kai was wondering if we would like to join him and Kyungsoo on a date tonight.” He leaned on the desk, tilting his head back and forth as he though. “I figured, we haven't gone on a date in a while, and we're both gonna be kinda busy in the coming days.” He grinned over at you, while you twirled a pen in your hands.

“Where are they going?” You tried to pretend to sound uninterested but you really did miss date nights.

“There's a carnival by the beach. It's very cheesy so you know Kai had to go.” You both rolled your eyes at that. “So, Mrs. Park, would you like to go on a cheesy carnival date with me?” You pretended to think about it, tapping your chin lightly.

“Well, Mr. Park, I think a cheesy carnival date is right up your alley.” Somehow his grin got bigger.

~~

“I am going to win you the biggest teddy bear ever!” Chan cheered as you climbed out of the car.

“There's no need.” You laughed.

“The quickest way to a girl's heart is through manliness and money.” He joked, spotting the others across the parking lot.

“Babe you already have my heart.” He smiled down at you, kissing you lightly before pulling up your face mask. There would definitely be people who could tell who you were, and this was sure to end up all over the internet.

“There she is!” Kai yelled as soon as he saw you. “I haven't you in ages!” He cried, pulling you in for a tight hug.

“Hello Kai, hey Kyungsoo” You greeted, hugging them both.

“How have you been?” Kai asked, pulling you ahead of the boys and hooking his arm into yours. Just behind you, D.O. and Chan watched your forms. Most other guys would have been at least apprehensive about their wives being so close to another man, but at the beginning of your relationship, it had quickly been realized that while Baekhyun, Jongdae, and Kai were your close friends, that was all they were.

“Chanyeol has decided to win me the biggest teddy bear he can.” Kai gasped, loudly and over dramatically.

“Babe, you have to win me a big teddy bear. There's no way I'm letting Chanyeol be more romantic than us.” He cried, spinning to face the other men. You couldn't help laughing, slowly sinking into a squat as D.O tried to reason with his boyfriend.

“They're already more romantic than us, they're married.” He explained, shooting you a slight glare.

“Then you have to marry me, then win me a big teddy bear!”

“Babe.” D.O. blushed, trying to make Chen stop yelling. Chan helped you stand back up while the boyfriends continued to talk.

“We'll meet you guys later for the finale.” He called.

“I will have a big teddy bear by then!” Kai replied, while Chanyeol just pulled you towards the ticket booth.

Thanks to the masks you both wore, it was a lot easier to just have fun. You both knew the internet was going to have a heart attack about the two of you playing cheesy carnival games together, him winning you a giant stuffed panda, and the two of you just generally being a cheery happy couple.

It didn't take long for you to play every game available, and soon found yourselves walking along the beach as the sun began to set.

“I really miss going on these cheesy dates with you.” You confessed, leaning your head on his arm as you walked.

“I do too. What if we went on a second honeymoon?” He offered.

“Aren't those for old couples that have been together for ages and are trying to rekindle their marriages?” You joked.

“Maybe.” He laughed. “But we're going to have some time after this comeback, we should go somewhere. Somewhere where its always just a bit cold.”

“Why?”

“I like seeing you in my hoodies.” He stated as if it were the most obvious thing ever.

“You'd prefer me to only ever wear your hoodies.” You reminded him. “And preferably nothing else.”

“You got me there, but we went to Dubai for our honeymoon, and we haven't gone anywhere since. So we should go somewhere the opposite of Dubai.” You nodded along to his words, racking your brain for ideas. “Somewhere kinda cold, and more subtle, Dubai was all about being rich and expensive.”

“San Francisco?” You offered.

“That sounds nice, but we're likely to get recognized in such a big city.”

“Oh, what about Big Bear Lake? You can rent these really fancy cabins there and it's really pretty in the winter.”

“I like it, how about we figure out all the details when we get home?”

“Hey, you two!” Kai’s scream made you jump and nearly drop your over-sized panda. “Look what Kyungie got me!” He waved a giant unicorn towards you.

“I love it.” You cried. “Look at my panda!”

“The fireworks are gonna start soon. I convinced the Ferris wheel attendant to get us on the very top for the finale.” D.O told Chan.

“There's gonna be fireworks?” You asked, earning nods from the boys.

“But we gotta get to the Ferris wheel, first.”

You practically ran towards the Ferris wheel, the four of you claiming one of the cars. At the top you could see the city lights sparkling over the ocean, you sat the panda next to you and cuddled against Chan to keep both of you warm. You may have jumped at every crackle from the fireworks but Chan's warm arm around your shoulders kept you grounded. He looked down at you as the finale began, the lights shining in his eyes. Pulling you close he whispered in your ear,

“Is it too soon to ask you to marry me again?”

[dameronology]

star wars characters as paramore songs

i am bored. i love star wars and i love paramore. thank you for coming to my ted talk. 

finn - playing god 

‘next time you point a finger i might have to bend it back and break it off/next time you point a finger, i’ll point you to the mirror’ + ‘just keep on cramming ideas down my throat’ 

this song screams fuck you energy - specifically fuck you, first order energy. it’s all about getting away from people who try to force their ideals onto you and hold you back from reaching your best potential & that’s exactly what finn does. he breaks out and joins the good fight and we all clapped when he killed phasma. a king. 

poe - now 

‘lost the battle, win the war/i’m bringing my sinking ship back to the shore’ + ‘there’s a time and a place to die, but this ain’t it’

i had quite a few songs i wanted to use for poe but this one specifically fits him quite well; it’s about retaining hope in tough times and using your vision of a brighter future to get to a better place, even if things seem really shitty. he always stays hopeful that the resistance will pull through, even when things get really dire, and it’s that little spark that helps them win in the end. 

rey - let the flames begin

‘i believe that there’s hope buried/hiding/growing beneath it all’ + ‘somewhere weakness is our strength and i’ll die searching for it’

for me, this song is about fighting a battle even when it feels like you’re losing and searching for a reason to fight even when it feels like visions are fading. we see rey go from a bright-eyed scavenger to a more weathered warrior but no matter how much she sees or experiences, she never strays away from the light side even when kylo ren/ben solo quite literally sticks his hand out and invites her to join him. she always tries to keep her goals in mind and she always fights for them, even when the going gets tough. 

han solo - anklebiters 

‘some day you’re gonna be the only one you’ve got’ + ‘fall in love with yourself’ 

this song has big ‘i’m an independent bitch’ energy and that feels very han to me. he always has his own interests at heart - sometimes good, sometimes bad - and he always has his own back, no matter what. we see him develop a lot into someone who thinks more collectively about wider group interests and for the people he cares about but ultimately, han’s best friend is han and he isn’t gonna rely on anyone else.

aside from maybe chewie. 

leia organa - simmer (this is actually from hayley’s solo album but...allow it pls)

‘rage is a quiet thing’ + nothing cuts like a mother’

this song is about being angry and unsetted; leia has this spark inside her, this energy and this wrath, to do the right thing and restore balance to the galaxy. she uses it as her fuel, always #getsshitdone and she’s never apologetic about it. hell hath no fury like a leia scorned. 

luke skywalker - careful

 ‘open your eyes like i opened mine, it’s only the real world’ + ‘you can’t be too careful anymore when all that’s waiting for you, won’t come any closer/you’ve got to reach a little more’

luke went from an innocent, optimistic farm boy to a wise jedi; he saw a lot and experienced a lot but the only thing about him that changes was the way he approached things. he started to become a lot more gutsy and understood that if he wanted to achieve his goals and kick ass, he’d have to get up and take charge. he stopped waiting around for fate to do shit for him and started doing it himself. 

obi-wan kenobi - monster (creds to anon from earlier for giving me this idea! an absolute legend) 

‘i’ll stop the whole word from turning into a monster and eating us alive’ + ‘call me a traitor, i’m just collecting your victims’

all this poor man ever does is fight for what he thinks is right and helps the people around him and how does he get repaid? he loses literally everything and he still continues to do shit for everyone else and he spends his whole life cleaning up collateral damage created by anakin motherfucking skywalker. obi stays on tatooine, he trains luke and he kicks down the first domino that lead to the chain reaction of things that would eventually see the defeat of the empire. 

anakin skywalker - when it rains

‘you made yourself a bed at the bottom of the blackest hole’ + ‘just running away, from all of the ones that love you’ + ‘when it rains on this side of town, it touches everything’

anakin is sad. anakin is very, very sad. the poor boy probably just wants to be loved but he has no idea how - he pushes everyone away and eventually, that leads to his downfall. it’s not necessarily his fault but his inability to deal with those negative emotions eventually effects everyone and even when they try to help, the kid slips away to the dark side. 

padme amidala - brick by boring brick 

‘the angles were all wrong, now she’s ripping wings off of butterflies’ + ‘her prince finally came to save her...but it was a trick’ + ‘go get your shovel and we’ll dig a deep hole, to bury the castle’ 

padme probably couldn’t have predicted anakin turning to the dark side but she did choose to see the best in him...and it kinda lowkey did kill her. this song is about blind hope and believing in fairy tale endings and having it come back to bite you in the ass and that sorta sums them up quite nicely (love u tho padme <3) 

[sourkitsch]

all the odd numbers

You’re Killing Me

(1) Do You Sleep With Your Closet Doors Open Or Closed?

Closed!

(3) Can You Whistle?

Very poorly.... ok no I can’t

(5) What Is Your Favourite Colour?

Golden Yellow!

(7) What Is The Temperature Right Now?

37 F

(9) How Many Followers?

661.... 5 more to my fav number....

(11) What Is Your Eye Colour?

blueish greenish brownish grayish? like hazel but if hazel had a blue base

(13) Do You Sing In The Shower?

Yup! It helps me wake up in the morning. Sorry to my hall mates tho

(15) Grab The Book Nearest To You, Turn To Page 64, Give Me Line 14.

“the ball did not fall back into her hand stretched up to catch it, but”- Grimm’s Fairy Tales (specially from “The Frog Prince”, which I did an art piece about at a precollege program a few years back! It sucks but I was like 14 so w/e)

(17) Last Person You Cried In Front Of?

In person? Probably my friends Olive, Sarah, and Alec. I just cried on the phone to my mom like 3 days ago tho.

(19) What Did You Have For Lunch?

Tuna Sandwich and green beans

(21) Favourite Animal?

Tiger!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(23) What Time Do You Usually Go To Bed?

3am

(25) Do You Prefer To Swim In A Pool Or The Ocean?

THE OCEAN I fucking LOVE the ocean

(27) Bottled Water Or Tap Water?

Either! I’m not picky!

(29) Post A Gif Of What You’re Currently Feeling Right Now.

(31) Dogs Or Cats?

Cats by a long shot! I’m just starting to get over a crippling fear of dogs rip

(33) PlayStation Or Xbox.

I guess Playstation? My friend has one. I don't really care

(35) Do You Believe In Magic?

Yes and no? I belief very much in the power of belief. If someone believes something hard enough I think it can manifest in the real world.

(37) Can You Curl Your Tongue?

Ye

(39) Is There Anything Pink Within 10 Feet Of You?

My cat’s littol beans

(41) Have You Ever Caught A Butterfly?

Nah I’ve been afraid of bugs since I was a kid! Including Butterflys

(43) Do You Have Strange Dreams?

Yup yup yup I get nightmares quite often cause of trauma and stuff. Violent, disturbing, weird. oof

(45) Name One Movie That Made You Cry.

Every Movie. Most recently? Fantasia

(47) If I Handed You A Concert Ticket Right Now, Who Would You Want The Performer To Be?

Ghost!

(49) Are You A Heavy Sleeper?

Yes and no? It’s hard to fall asleep but once I'm asleep it’s hard for me to wake up

(51) Do You Like To Read / Write?

I like the idea of doing them! I wish I could focus on books and writing but whoops dropped my adhd

(53) Would You Rather Carve Pumpkins Or Wrap Presents?

Carve Pumpkins!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(55) What Season Are You In Right Now? (Weather)

Winter

(57) Post A Screenshot Of Your Tumblr Feed.

no

(59) Coffee Or Tea?

Tea! Coffee makes me jittery

(61) What Is Your Sexuality?

I just label it as queer bc it’s complicated

(63) Favourite Pokemon?

Skitty

(65) What’s Your Opinion On Instagram Stories?

They’re fine! I use them on my finsta and occasionally on my art acc

(67) Are You A Virgin?

Nah man that ship sailed years ago

(69) If You Were Far From Home And Needed To Sleep For The Night, Would You Choose To Rent A Crappy Motel Room For $60 Or Sleep In Your Car For Free?

I don’t have a car and I do have anxiety, so motel!

(71)  Whats The Next Movie You Want To See In Theaters?

To Dust “A Hasidic cantor in upstate New York, distraught by the untimely death of his wife, befriends a local community college biology professor and the two embark on an increasingly literal undertaking into the underworld”

(73) What Is Your Favourite Quote Right Now?

“From childhood’s hour I have not been As others were—I have not seen As others saw—I could not bring My passions from a common spring— From the same source I have not taken My sorrow—I could not awaken My heart to joy at the same tone— And all I lov’d—I lov’d alone— “

- From “Alone” by Edgar Allan Poe

(75) Did You Like Swinging As A Child? Do You Still Get Excited When You See A Swing Set?

Yes, No.

(77) What Games Do You Have On Your Phone?

Plague Inc., Pokemon Go, all of the Rusty Lake games, and my new fav The Arcana

(79) Been On The Computer For 5 Hours Straight?

Yeah I’ve been workin on art

(81) Do You Like Meeting New People?

...No.

(83) Do You Sleep With Your Bedroom Door Open Or Closed?

Open so my cat can roam around, but closed and locked if there's company over.

(85) What Do You Wear To Bed?

t-shirt, underwear, shorts. pants if I'm feeling chilly

(87) Are You A Day Or Night Person?

Night. Like a vampire

(89) Tell Me About A Dream That You Had And When It Happened.

hm. no thanks.

(91) What Sounds Are Your Favourite?

thunder, rain, my cat snoring, someone humming, the scratch of pencil on paper

(93) How Do You Look Right Now?

sleepy

(95) What Tattoo Do You Want?

So many! Rn I guess something else by my friend Cam, their work is gorgeous!

Jesus CHRISt

[ohwaitimthewriter]

More of you

Pairing : Poe Dameron x Solo!reader

Warning : FLUFF.

Request by anon : Hi! May I request a female Solo reader x Poe imagine? The reader very closed up since Ben became Kylo and killed the beloved Han Solo and Poe has had a crush on her for a long time and so did the reader but she is scared that no one wants to be with her because what Kylo did and he is trying to charm her and BB-8 and Leia are helping him win her over and all cute and fluffy 😄😁

Words count : 3482

A/n : Thank you SO much for this request! It was so sweet to write, I truly enjoyed it and so I hope you’ll enjoy it too!

Masterlist.

It was lunch time. You were sitting alone at a table with your plate in front of you when you sensed someone coming next to you. You looked up to find Poe Dameron, greeting you with a gentle smile.

« Is the seat taken? » He asked as you spotted a sweet glimmer in his eyes.

« No. » You simply answered and you moved a bit to let him some space to sit down.

He didn’t even bother taking the space you made for him so that the both of you could have your personal space, he just sat down right next to you, brushing his shoulder against yours slightly. He literally imposed himself to you and a shiver spread along your spine as you felt him only at a few inches from you. It was always like this with him. It was as if he didn’t even know what personal space was and not that it bothered you, not at all, you were rather satisfied with his proximity, but what bothered you was the feelings that grew inside your heart each times he did so. You were pretty sure he did that to everyone so you weren’t feeling special to him and it wasn’t even a thought for you because why would anyone be interested in you this way after what your brother had done? Kylo Ren was your brother and the moment he turned to the darkness and killed your father Han, you had felt guilty for all the crimes your brother had made, as if it was your own fault. You even had closed yourself up to everyone and everything. You refused any good in your life because you believed you didn’t deserve it and all this just because of your brother. When Han was killed, you became quieter and your heart became eavier, setting definitely the idea that no one wanted to be around you anymore. But you were wrong.

Poe bumped your shoulder lightly to catch your attention and you glanced up at him, you realized how close he was when you felt his warmth radiating from his body intruding your own. You wondered how you were supposed to calm the butterflies in your stomach down as he pointed at a piece of food in your plate.

« Can I have a taste of it? Never eat these things. » He asked softly.

If only you could notice all the affection he held for you in his eyes at this very moment, maybe you could change your mind and believed someone wanted to be with you but you just shrugged, agreeing silently as he picked up the food.

« Do you like it? » you asked back, focusing on your food again.

« Yeah, it’s good. » He looked at you with a smile that made his eyes twinkled.

As his eyes were wandering over your face and body he spotted a golden bracelet on your wrist with two dices. He took the occasion to hold your hand as he examined your bracelet. His fingertips barely touched your skin but it was enough to warm up your cheeks. He played innocently with your bracelet as he spoke.

« It’s beautiful. Where did you get it? »

For a moment you were hyptonized by his touch but when you remembered how you got it, you pulled your hand out of his calloused hand and the warmth you felt on your skin turned into coldness.

« My father. » You anwered before standing up slowly. « I’m sorry I have a bunch of things to do right now. » You excused yourself.

Poe watched you leave as he let a long sighed out. It was always the same thing. He believed he had a connection with you and the moment he tried to get closer, you closed yourself up and left with an excuse. Maybe you didn’t have the same feelings but he was so deeply, madly in love with you he couldn’t help himself but try again and again to seduce you. He was pretty sure though you felt something for him too, otherwise you wouldn’t let him be this close to you, he knew you weren’t shy to the point you wouldn’t dare to say anything if he crossed a limit you didn’t want him to cross but it was as if you refused him in your life. He scratched his neck thoughtfully when he heard several beeps. He looked down and saw BB-8 as he answered to the little droid, giving a faint smile.

« Yeah, maybe you could help me. »

BB-8 chirped excitedly, rolling from the left to the right, ready to do anything for his master.

« Let me think. » Poe said, taking his time to find something concrete. « She talked about a bunch of things, I guess it is about ships and droids, what about you go check on her to help her and keep her company for me? »

Poe knew small things were making you happy and he also knew how lonely you could feel sometimes even if you didn’t want to admit it. The droid whirred a yes and waste no time to go find you. The only thing Poe hoped was that BB-8 would not be too talkative.

 When BB-8 found you, you were working on an x-wing. He lightly bumped in your legs to catch your attention and the moment you looked down he started to beep happily.

« You want to help me? » you repeated, a questionning look on your face.

BB-8 whistled and chirped all he could, explaining somehow it was Poe who allowed him to do so to keep you company. You blinked several times to comprehend what he was saying as you spoke, surprised.

« Did he? » You insisted and the droid beep positively. You were suspicious at first but then you agreed, showing him a box of tools. « Maybe, maybe you could hand me the tools when I need them? » You asked and the droid didn’t wait to push the box next to the x-wing, seeming all ready to help you. He rolled from one side to the other impatiently and you couldn’t help but think he was devilishly cute. You giggled, shaking your head as you proceeded to work back on the ship.

« Can you do me a favor? » you asked and BB-8 chirped a yes. « will you thank Poe for me? »

The little droid let out several beeps and boops, questionning you about why you wouldn’t do it yourself but your mind froze and you kept silent for a minute.

« Can you just do it for me, please? » you insisted and you swore you could see BB-8 shrugging in disappointment if only he had shoulders. He beeped a yes though and you kept on working on the ship.

 At the end of the day, you were heading to your quarters, your gaze focused on the datapad when you bumped into a strong chest, you looked up quickly and found Poe staring at you with kind eyes.

« Sorry! I wasn’t paying attention. » you bursted an apologize and proceed to walk around him but he grabbed your arm softly, making you face him.

« It’s okay. I wanted to see you actually. » He spoke as he stepped closer, imposing himself again into your personal space.

« You did? » You asked as a light flush colored your cheeks.

« Yeah, hm, BB-8 told me you had something to say to me. » He explained, running his hand along your arm until it reached your wrist and he gently squeezed it.

You noticed his eyes glittering with hope but you didn’t understand why. You glanced at your hand when you felt his own sneaking into it and he began to play with your fingers mindlessly. You bit your bottom lip, trying to forget the shiver his touch brought you and you looked up again at his eyes.

« Ah, I thought he would just… tell you. »

« What is it? » Poe searched for your eyes with his own.

« I wanted to thank you for letting BB-8 give me a hand. » you said but the moment you felt him untertwined softly his fingers with yours, you stepped back, pulled your hand out of his gentle grip.

You crossed your arms against your chest.

« Anytime. » He answered, closing again the small distance you had put between the two of you.

You didn’t know why but your body always responded positively to his closeness whereas your mind kept on reminding you you couldn’t let anyone in. You managed to avoid his gaze as you mumbled an excuse to leave. Poe rubbed his face as he sighed. The moment he turned on his feet to go to his quarters, he saw Leia, watching him with a small smile. She waved at him to come closer and he did, giving a last look over his shoulder to see you walked inside your room.

« Don’t feel disappointed Poe, you’re lucky enough to be able to grab her hand. » She spoke.

« I’m sorry, I didn’t want to be rude. » Poe scratched his neck, nervously.

« You’re not, I’m glad it’s you. » Leia admitted with a kind smile.

« General? What do you mean? » Poe asked as he frowned.

« Do you think I’m not able to see when someone is in love? » She asked, giving an amused look. « And you’re quite expressive. » She teased, making Poe flushed.

« Hm, well, huh, I, I don’t think your daughter shared the same feelings. » Poe confessed.

« You think so? » She asked, giving him a knowing look.

« I mean, she doesn’t… » Poe started but stopped, rubbing his face.

« She doesn’t what? Respond enough to your attempts? I think she does it pretty well, you know it’s not a matter of feelings Poe. »

Poe let a sighed escaped his lips as he lowered his head. Leia was touched by his feelings and suddenly all she wanted was for you and him to be happy together. She knew you loved him too by the way you talked about him but your mother also understood why you were scared to let Poe in. She just thought it was a waste to let this happen and she quickly made her mind to help Poe to win you over.

« But maybe I can do something for you. » She said with a smile.

« Do you? » He asked with hope.

« Tomorrow, you’ll work with her. Don’t screw it up I’ll not give you a second chance! »

« I won’t! Thank you ma’am! »

A bright smile broke Poe’s face and she just patted his shoulder in compassion before leaving him walk away.

 You opened the door when you heard a knock to find your mother at your doorway. You let her in and she gave you a little hug to greet you.

« How do you feel, honey? » Your mother asked a bit worried.

« I’m good mom. » You answered with a small smile, being grateful for her concern.

« How was your day? » She asked as she sat down on your bed, inviting your to do the same.

« Like any other day, I guess. » And you sat down next to your mother who had an impish smile.

« I saw you with Commander Dameron tonight. » Leia revealed and she put her hand on yours when you lowered your head with a blush.

« He’s fine, honey. » She added with a reassuring squeeze on your hand.

« Mom, it’s not… I can’t… huh, he is like this with everyone. » You tripped over your words.

« Oh, really? Are you sure? » She insisted and you let your inner thoughts bursted out.

« Why would he even be interested in me, mother? Look at me! I’m just, I’m just… » You tried to find your words before adding in a broken voice. « What if I’m like him? »

« Him? »

« Ben, what if I’m like Ben? » And your eyes became teary.

Your mother faced you quickly, putting her hands on your cheeks as she forced you to look at her straight in the eyes.

« You’re not like your brother, honey! »

« But what if? »

« Alright, what if the First Order win the war? What if your brother come back? What if the Resistance comes to an end? » She started firmly. « Can you find a concrete answer to these? Can you be hundred percent sure of your answer? » And she interrupted you even before you could answer. « No you can’t. But what you can be sure of is that whatever could happen, we will over come it together, so yes, what if you turned like your brother? Well I’ll be there to help you and I’m sure Poe will be too. » She stroked your hair only the way a mother could as her face softened. « You can allow yourself a bit of happiness, honey. »

She gave you a kiss on your forehead before she stood up.

« You work with Poe tomorrow. Don’t screw it up. » She said, leaving you dumbfounded on your bed as she walked out of your room with an impish smile.

 You never ever had been so nervous to go to work on a ship than right now. Your mother had assigned you to Poe’s x-wing to repair it and to the same extent, you’ll work, as she warned you, with Poe all day. You were already working on the belly of the ship when you heard a knock on the metal panel. You popped your head out and Poe greeted you with a smile. He just couldn’t help it when he saw a stain of oil in your cheeks, he wiped it away with his thumb and a massive blush spread over your face as you hid again under the ship. You had thought about what your mother said all the night and your heart raced when you rememberd the decision you had taken. Yeah, maybe you could try to allow some happiness in your life. You swallowed and focused on a defective cable.

« Poe? Can you give me a wrench please? » You asked and he caught himself smiling at the sound of his name in your mouth.

« Here. » He handed you the wrench and let his fingers brushed yours when you took it, giving you a shiver.

You mentally cursed yourself for the butterflies that seemed to awake in your stomach. You were wondering if the reason why you didn’t felt them earlier was only because you never made the decision to let Poe in your life earlier. You fixed the cable and finally stood next to Poe, rubbing your hands on your mechanic suit to clean them up. Poe’s eyes never left you as he came closer to you, invading your personal space again. You looked up at his eyes and there, there you saw it. All the affection he held for you and that you refused for so long to accept it was for you and only you.

« So, where do we start? »

You suddenly felt overwhelmed and you tried to step back but he like a magnet, he closed the distance again and you thought quickly to find a way to breathe again in peace.

« Okay, hm, maybe, huh, maybe you can go on your cockpit so that I can check on the reactivity of the engines and the wings? » You bursted out quickly.

« Okay. » He answered with an amused smile as he walking back towards the cockpit, still looking at you though.

You let your breath out when he disapeared in his cockpit and you slapped yourself mentally for having lose your shit. You didn’t remember he had this effect on you and you silently cursed yourself and your mother for bringing you the idea of a happiness with him in your mind.

 Later on, you were working under one of the ship’s wing when BB-8 showed up and bumped into your legs to get your attention.

« Wait a minute BB-8. » you spoke, not leaving the wing from your eyes.

But BB-8 had no intention to wait and he bumped again harder on your legs, making you looked down.

« I’m working beebee, I need to pay attention to… » and you didn’t have the time to finish your sentence that you hit your forehead on the hard metal in an attempt to stand up. The « bang » echoed in the hangar, making Poe jogging around the x-wing to find you holding your forehead as your face expressed a slight pain.

« Y/n, you’re alright? » He asked, coming close enough to you to take your head between his hands, examining your face.

« Yeah, I am. » you groaned as you massaged your forehead.

« What happened? »

« BB-8 distracted me, it’s nothing. »

He chuckled as he let one of his hand fell from your cheek to your shoulder to your arm, squeezing it lightly. Suddenly, BB-8 pushed hard against his master’s legs and Poe stumbled, his hand slipped over your waist to restrain himself from falling. As a result, you got pressed against his chest, making your cheeks as red as the dust on Crait.

« Geez! Did you broke a fuse, bud’? » He said, talking to his droid as he mindlessly let his hand fall on the small of your back, keeping you close to him.

He only get his attention back to you when he felt you brruying your face in his chest to hide your blush. He released you in a second as he spoke :

« I’m sorry! » he bursted out with a flush coloring his cheeks.  

Both of your heart were pounding loudly as you shook your head.

« It’s, it’s okay. » you stammered quietly, still feeling his touch burning the small of your back.

« Is it? » He insisted in disbelief but hope was clearly invading his eyes.

« It is. » you repeated in a small nod and you glanced towards the ship’s wing.

He locked his eyes in yours and you could feel his brain running hard. Suddenly you felt overwhelmed again and you stepped back, turning on your feet to work again on the ship.

« Can I have more? » He asked abruptly.

« Wh-what? » You gasped as you faced him  again.

« More, I want more, I want to hold you more » He stepped closer, studying your face with admiration. « I want to touch you more, I, huh, I want to kiss you. » He bursted out his confession as he imposed himself again to you.

His scent overcame your mind and he slowly put his hand on your cheek, making sure you were alright with his intentions.

« Can I have more? » He repeated, his voice was mixture between despair and hope.

His touch was so warm on your skin that you couldn’t help but lean against his hand. Your heart was losing its beat count as you thought quickly but carefully about his words.

« Yes. » your voice was almost a whisper but it was enough for Poe to smile from ear to ear.

You both suddenly jolted back into reality when you heard your mother’s voice behind your back.

« Don’t you dare kissing my daughter in front of me Commander. »

« Ma’am! huh sorry, I, I thought you… I mean, huh. » Poe tripped over his word and Leia laughed at his embarrassment.

A massive blush spread over your face until the tip of your ears and she just waved at the both of you with a knowing smile.

« Just finish what you began and come find me in the debriefing room, Commander. » She spoke in a teasing voice before leaving the two of you dumbfounded.

After that, you only could look at each other as you bursted in laugh.

« Okay, I admit, it was awkard. » Poe said as he brushed his fingers over your cheek.

You gave him a soft smile before tiptoeing to press your lips against his quickly. You were about to pull back but Poe grabbed your waist, digging his fingers in your skin as he pulled you into a long and soft kiss. Butterflies were raging in your stomach when he smiled into your lips.

« Yeah, I definitely want more of you. »

[dentalrecordsmusic]

Off Your Radar - Issue #105: “Shallow Believer” by The Used

Originally published on Off Your Radar (one outstanding album each week, recommended and analyzed by over a dozen music writers and lovers).

Shallow Believer by The Used Released On February 19, 2008 Released By Reprise Records

I met my best friend on September 2, 2009 at Looney Tunes Record Store in West Babylon, NY. I arrived at the store at noon looking forward to watching The Used perform at the small humble shop thinking that I was getting on line early and beating the crowd to the front row. Boy, was I wrong. 

Outside, I was immediately met with a small group of teens around my age who had been sitting outside the shop on line from 7AM. I was hardcore, but I wasn’t that hardcore. I loved The Used, but it never occurred to me that it would be reasonable to show up to a concert 14 hours in advance. At 16, my life was deeply impacted after this very important day. 

For one, I had learned that if you were small and passionate about music, you needed to wake up at the ass crack of dawn to drive to the venue in order to get a good view of the stage. Secondly, I had just met the person who would alter my life on an outrageous scale. The person who I would form bands with, laugh with until my stomach was in knots, and dream, dream, dream. Then dream harder. Her name was Erin Calvert (she also writes for this very newsletter — you may have seen her at the top of this issue). I loved her. 

It’s really easy to make friends with strangers when you’ve been sitting on the sidewalk with them for literally eight hours in the sun discussing the only band playing that night. Art does that. It does not know social awkwardness, nor jealousy, nor faux interest. When you meet another person who loves something as animatedly as you, you already have common ground. My common ground with Erin is, and always has been, The Used. 

Since September 2, 2009, Erin and I have traveled across the north east attending every Used show we had the balls to drive to, adding up to over a couple dozen times (I’ve lost count). Sometimes we were in Connecticut. Other times it was New Jersey. Most of the time it was in New York. No matter where we found ourselves, we were always there as the first ones on line. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at 5 AM. Rain, snow, shine — we seriously didn’t give a shit. We were there to see The Used. 

Not long before this, The Used had released Shallow Believer on February 19, 2008, a “compilation” record built on outtakes and B-Sides from the band’s previous three studio records. It was my favorite release by the band thus far in their career. Shallow Believer is indeed a compilation, but it doesn’t play like one. Not once does it feel like it was shuffled about and thrown together — there is a linear progression throughout it that reads more like a romance novel than a series of short stories. 

There was a period of time (which I would argue is still a part of the shtick today) when The Used touted their genre as being “gross-pop.” The band had dipped their toes into the sound during Lies For The Liars era most aggressively (see “Pretty Handsome Awkward,” “With Me Tonight,” “Paralyzed“), but their hearts were still firmly and strongly beating through the post-hardcore, sorta punk rock sound. Shallow Believer is, in my opinion, the definition of gross pop and (if I can so boldly say) the most unique and lovable thing the band has done so far. Erin thought so too as you can tell. 

From the very beginning, we have “Dark Days” which comes in like a lamb, roughs up some wolves, and goes out like a lamb again. It is bright, shiny, and new no matter when you hear it. One thing I’ve always appreciated about The Used is their childlike play with melody, and more especially, vocalist McCracken’s play with his vocal melody. “Dark Days” juggles some of the best of what The Used has to offer with a breath of cool, fresh air. Ending with a mellow piano outro and some crooning from McCracken, it is a gift to the alternative music world. 

“Into My Web” is another stunner laced with impressive timing and control. Attention to detail is peak here, with the number of sound effects and layers in both the vocals and instrumentals and the lyrics are cryptic and Poe-like. According to iTunes, I’ve listened to this song 522 times. I dare you to try and stop me from listening to it again. “See me drop my jaw as you fly like a butterfly…” sighhh, be still, my heart. 

Who can forget how epic and iconic “Choke Me” is? I don’t throw the word “perfect” around much because hardly anything is, but wow. This song (from the self-titled days) is hardcore at its finest. It’s endlessly clever, hilarious, and also terrifying. Branden Steineckert is a man on a mission here on the drums and it’s so exciting to hear him play so well with all this personality. McCracken is literally throwing up at the end of it. I love this song so much. 

I wish I could sit here all day and discuss every song on Shallow Believer, but I can’t. I’m saving room here to talk about how much I love every single millisecond of “The Back Of Your Mouth.” The horns, the performance and theatrics, the jazzy vocal melody and outrageousness of it all; it reminds me of a rolling circus with chainsaws for wheels and a ringleader named Rob McCracken chewing on bones of unidentified animals, shouting obscenities, and leading the chaos into hellfire. His shout into the second chorus, “The back of your mouth,” gives me the chills every time. The horn and vocal interlude is astounding, executed to a degree that I rarely see in music today. 

When I tell people that my favorite band is The Used, I mean it in more ways than I can describe in this one post. It means community, acceptance, vulnerability, daring to dream, and breaking rules to make something beautiful. It also means friendship. It means buying giant plastic balls and filling them with candy, toys, hot chocolate and tea and giving them to each member of the band at the meet-and-greet table after every show, outside every tour bus. To many, it seemed over-the-top to give gifts to bands on the road. To Erin and I, it was the very least we could do to give back to a band that had given us everything to believe in, including ourselves. 

After a plethora of meet-and-greets, photo ops, laughs, shared cigarettes, and breathtaking hugs, The Used have remained our band. We’ve had the fortune of meeting them too many times to count, and that’s only the icing on the cake to the amazing experiences we’ve had related to The Used. Shallow Believer was the spark to my unending, all-encompassing fascination with The Used, and I have that album to thank for my music journalism career, my relationship with my best friend, and my vivid sonic memories. After all these years, it brings me to tears thinking about all of the good times Erin and I have had with this band. The Used is in our bones like marrow, in the back of our throats like pills, and dug into our dirty fingernails. Here, now, eternally.

Catherine Dempsey is an emo kid seeking a hardcore band. You can follow her on Instagram and Twitter.

Read the rest of this newsletter’s issue here.