eunoia | Poe Dameron x Reader
A/N: Sorry about the lack of writing! I had work five days in a row and had the fun habit of falling asleep on my couch from 11 PM to 4 AM, so I wasn’t writing when I usually would be. This little drabble can be a companion to ‘fifty ways to kiss someone’ or can be on its own! Anon, if you would prefer this prompt to be ‘real’ or even sexy ;) let me know and I’ll write another! Eunoia means ‘beautiful thinking’.
Warning: Beat up Poe? Naughty words?
Word count: 503 maybe? An actual drabble length story!
Prompt: Unbind me: One character freeing another, or the other way around, or something among the lines (as requested by an anon from this list of prompts)
Poe didn’t know how long he’d been a prisoner of the First Order.
All he knew was that everything fucking hurt.
Not that he would give them the satisfaction of admitting it. He could handle a little pain anyway.
And being shocked, beaten, thrown around, and interrogated was hardly much of anything.
Though the uncomfortable device he was strapped to was aggravating his injuries. Again, not that he would admit it.
He was dozing in and out of consciousness, his exhaustion and pain both fighting for control, when the door slid open. He didn’t bother to look up. “Already up for another round? Gotta say, I’m surprised.”
“You’re not as exhausting as you think, Poe Dameron.”
His head shot up and there you were, leaning against the frame of the door with a smirk like nothing was amiss. “What—”
“In bed, anyway. In personality?” You laughed, pushing off the door frame and walking over to him. “Not that you’re bad in bed. I just mean that I could go all night with you.”
“—the hell are you doing here?” He was surprised and relieved, and most of all slightly terrified that you were anywhere near the First Order. “How’d you even get in here?”
“Don’t worry about it. Look at you…” Your joking tone was gone, replaced with complete concern. Your hands moved up to his face, stroking over the cuts on his cheek and lip, then you ran your fingers through the bloody hair at his temple.
It hurt, but, fuck, it felt so nice to receive a gentle touch.
Then you were kissing him and the stinging he’d felt on his lip ever since a good hit split it seemed to ease. He leaned forward, kissing you eagerly, stopping short with a groan of frustration thanks to his restraints.
You slid your hands down to his arms. “Let me help you.”
He looked down in confusion when the metal straps around his wrists and ankles opened, leaving him to fall to his feet. He stood tall, though he’d been sure he wouldn’t have all his strength. “You been hiding some powers from me, sweetheart?”
All you did was smile, taking his hand. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Wait.” He tugged you back as you stepped towards the door, kissing you as passionately as he could. He didn’t pull away until you were both panting. “I thought I’d never see you again.”
“Like I’d let you get away with tha—”
Your laughter-filled words cut off abruptly as Poe woke up. He lifted his gaze to see a figure in the room, but it was Kylo Ren. You were never there. Not outside of his head.
Days later, when you were both getting ready to fly out and find BB-8, you would ask what kept him going through whatever they put him through.
He would say something about his ‘amazing strength’ and 'awesome willpower’, and leave out 'also, I really just needed to see you again’.
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