#poe dameron reader insert

“Hey, firebug, want your usual?”

He smiles, nodding as he slides onto his proffered bar stool. “Yes, Ma’am.”

You scrunch your nose a little at the honorific. “How many times do I have to ask you not to call me that, Dameron? Makes me sound like a grandma.”

A mischievous twinkle is in his eyes as he leans closer, his elbows against the top of the bar. “Maybe I like grandmas.”

You raise an eyebrow at him as you place a bottle of his favorite beer on the bartop. “You calling me old?”

He shrugs, his eyes briefly flicking over you before returning to meet yours. “Who said I like you?”

You snort, sliding him the bottle. He nods in thanks. “Keep it up and I’ll be forced to finally call in your tab.”

His eyes go wide in mock shock. “You wouldn’t.”

You shoot him a look, not bothering to hold back your smile. “Oh, I would.”

He sighs, shaking his head dejectedly. “You have a payment plan for us poor folks then?”

“Nope,” you say, using a rag to wipe off the counter. “Gonna make you work it off.”

“Yeah?” he says, eyes shining as he takes a sip from the bottle. “How exactly?”

You pause, considering, absently wetting your lips. Your stomach flips as his eyes track the movement. “Good old fashioned manual labor.”

“Forced labor, you mean,” he jokes, taking another sip.

You shoot him a look. “No one’s forcing you to drink here.”

“True,” he agrees, stealing another swig from his beer, “The service is just so good I can’t help but come back.”

You roll your eyes. “Riiiight.”

He smiles, silence settling between you.

“Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“I’ll start tonight.”

You chuckle, shaking your head at him. “I haven’t called in your tab yet, Poe.”

“Maybe I want you to,” he smiles, locking eyes with you as he leans forward. “I don’t like having outstanding debt.”

You eye him for a moment, considering. He’s always been a bit of a flirt but you’d just assumed that was his personality. Was he actually interested? Was this his way of testing the waters? Perhaps you should find out…

“Okay,” you say carefully, “You can help me close up.”

That look in his eyes returns as he swallows a mouthful of beer. “How much’ll that knock off my tab?”

You shrug, casually wiping down the already clean bartop. “Depends on how good a job you do.”

He bites his lip, chuckling. “Can’t say I’ve ever had any complaints about my performance.”

You hum thoughtfully, your gaze briefly lingering on his biceps before returning to his eyes. “Guess we’ll see, won’t we?”

He stays with you at the counter all evening, keeping you company between customers. You can feel his eyes on you, following you around the bar, burning against the back of your neck. Anticipation gnaws in your gut as closing time ticks closer and closer. What will happen when you’re finally alone? Your mind runs rampant with the possibilities, the various scenarios playing out in your mind’s eye, each vision more heated than the last. 

You shake yourself back to reality, skin warm with shame, as if someone somehow might’ve heard your thoughts. Nothing is going to happen, you tell yourself, Poe is just a nice guy who wants to repay my kindness.

Thankfully, you’ve mostly forgotten about your fantasies by the time closing time rolls around, instructing Poe to lock the door as you bid the last of your patrons farewell. He does as you ask, flipping the switch on the neon “OPEN” sign in the window as well. 

“What next, boss?”

You chuckle, glancing around the room. “Wipe down the tables?”

“Is that a question?” he teases, returning to where you stand behind the bar.

“No,” you say, glaring half-heartedly as you grab him a clean rag. “Here. Cleaning spray is at the far end of the counter.”

You bite back a laugh as he salutes you, your gaze lingering on his back. After a moment, you force your attention back to the task at hand, putting away bottles of liquor, cleaning glasses, and wiping everything down. You glance up at Poe periodically, noting his thoroughness and attention to detail; must come with his day job, you suppose. 

“Want me to put the chairs up and sweep the floor too?” he asks, finishing up his last table.

You nod, handing him the broom you’d just been using behind the counter. “I’ll go get the mop ready.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he says, that damn twinkle back in his stupidly gorgeous eyes.

You glare at him again and he winks, smiling to himself as he returns to his task. He’s done sweeping by the time you return with the mop and you can’t help but be impressed. 

“Damn. You need a second job?”

He chuckles, leaning the broom up against the wall and making his way over to where you’re standing. “What’s the pay like?”

“Honestly? Terrible. But you’d get a portion of the tips.”

He hums, considering. “I’m listening.”

You know he’s not serious but you continue nonetheless. “There are other perks too.”

“Yeah?” he says, smiling as he stops in front of you, “Like what?”

“Free drinks, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Uh, oh, good music.”

He grimaces. “That’s a reach.”

You scoff, mildly insulted. “My taste in music is great.”

“It’s…fine. Basic at best.”

You smack his arm and he chuckles. “I’m just being honest.”

“Just…get back to work, would you?” you say, holding the mop handle out to him. “I don’t wanna be here all night.”

“Oh, no?” he says, rolling the mop bucket to the other side of the room. “And here I thought you were enjoying the pleasure of my company.”

You snort, shaking your head as you begin the process of counting down the register. “A pleasure is definitely not how I would describe your company."

“Bet I could change your mind,” he says simply, smiling softly to himself as he continues his task. 

You scoff as you organize the bills from the register. “Doubtful.”

He’s quick with the mop too, yet somehow still thorough, getting underneath all the tables and into those hard to reach corners; he may actually be better at this than you are (not that you’d tell him that though).

He tsks and glances at you over his shoulder. “You can’t tell me you’re not enjoying this just a little bit.”

You shrug, refusing to look at him as you make a note on your closing receipt. “I’m enjoying not having to mop the floor myself, that’s for sure.”

He just laughs, shaking his head as he continues to move around the room. The sound makes something flutter in your chest.

Silence descends between you as you both choose to focus on your respective tasks. You’re just finishing up with the count as Poe rolls the mop and bucket back behind the bar. 

“Where should I stash this?”

You nod behind you toward the backroom. “There’s a drain back there too if you don’t mind dumping that out.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he says, smiling softly as he walks past you.

You roll your eyes and he laughs again, the squeak of the mop bucket wheels nearly drowning him out.

When you’re finished counting, you survey the bar, impressed by how clean it looks. Damn, you could get used to this. You’d been joking about hiring him but you might actually consider making him a serious offer after tonight. You’ve been running this place solo for years, it’d be nice to have someone  help you out from time to time. 

After switching off the front-of-house lights, you make your way into the backroom, the sound of running water reaching your ears. You smile softly as you catch sight of Poe cleaning the mop and bucket, appreciation washing over you; you hadn’t asked him to do that but he’d done it anyway. What a treasure this man was. 

You escape to your office before he can catch you staring, mild embarrassment burning beneath your skin. Shaking yourself, you return to the task at hand: putting today’s deposit into the safe. Just as you're finishing up the paperwork, the dull thunk of his boots reaches your ears. 

“Need help with anything else?” Poe asks, bracing an arm against the doorframe.

You pause, considering. The only task left was turning off the bar sign, but it’d take less time to just do it yourself than it would explaining it to Poe. After closing the safe, you rise to your feet.

“Wanna help me turn off the sign?”

He nods, smiling as he backs away from the doorway so you can slip by him. Your shoulder brushes against his chest as you do, his warmth immediately seeping through your t-shirt to your skin, making you shiver involuntarily. You swallow, trying to snap yourself out of…whatever the hell this is as you lead him to a shadowy corner of the room. 

“Ever seen one of these before?” you tease as you reach the circuit breaker panel, attempting to regain some of the nonchalant energy you’d felt earlier in the evening.

He wets his lips, trying to hide his smile, the action drawing your gaze. “I think I have actually, yeah.”

“Well, it’s real simple,” you say, pulling the panel door open and pointing to the switch labeled with Sign. “Just flip this baby here and we’re done. You wanna do the honors?”

“I’d love to,” he says, his damn eyes twinkling again.

You watch as his deft fingers flip the switch, the loud click reverberating through the small space. He turns to you when he’s finished, eyebrows raised. 

“Look at you, you’re a natural,” you tease, lightly swatting his shoulder.

He chuckles, looking away as he pushes a hand through his curls. He seems fidgety all of a sudden, almost nervous, and the thought makes your heart skip a little in your chest.

“What now?” he asks finally, meeting your gaze.

You swallow, briefly looking away as you consider. You’re still not sure what this is between you, if it’s even anything at all. Perhaps it was best to play it safe and just call it a night.

“Now we go home,” you say simply, smiling softly as you move to walk past him and grab your things from the office. 

You brush against him again and something in the air shifts, becomes thicker, makes it feel like it has more weight. Why was it suddenly so hard to catch your breath? The gentle pressure of his hand on your arm sets your skin on fire. You turn toward him with parted lips, his eyes locking on yours as he slides his hand down to tangle his fingers with yours. 

Stepping into your space, he asks, “My place or yours?”

You respond the only way you can: with a kiss, the soft groan that escapes him making something feral uncoil in your belly. He pulls you to him, the full length of his body pressing against you. He’s so warm, so solid. Now that you’re kissing him, you can’t stop, don’t want to stop, and he doesn’t seem to want that either, not with the way he’s backing you up against the nearest wall. You gasp, briefly breaking the kiss before pulling his lips back, fingers plunging into his curls and holding him against you. 

The noises he makes are delicious, each groan, moan, and sigh like a symphony, each note making parts of your brain and body tingle. What else could you do to elicit those noises, you wonder. Could you make him beg? Would that sound just as pretty? 

Poe pulls away, mouthing at your neck, his teeth nipping at your pulse point, sending jolts of want straight to your core. You groan, eyes fluttering shut as he sucks a mark into your collarbone, your fingernails digging into his scalp. He moans, soothing the mark with his tongue, before kissing his way back up to your lips. His hands slip beneath your shirt, his warm fingers lightly ghosting over your skin, making you shiver. After extricating your fingers from his curls, you slide your hands down his back, untucking his shirt so you can so you can touch him too. Somehow he’s even warmer, his skin burning, your cool fingers making him hiss. 

Without another thought, you begin to push his shirt up, the muscles of his back contracting beneath your fingertips. Your mouth waters, the urge to strip him naked and lick every inch of his bare skin is suddenly so strong. He pulls away as you make it to his chest, moving back enough for you to push the offending material up and over his head. There’s a soft sound as it hits the floor, but you’re not paying much attention as his mouth returns to yours. 

He works on yours next, slowly inching the fabric up your torso, strong fingers trailing behind. His touch burns, sets you aflame, makes you feel like you’re going to explode. Your chest heaves as he breaks the kiss again to pull your shirt off, throwing it to the floor to join his own. He pauses, eyeing you in the dim light, his hand cupping your cheek.

“You okay?” he asks softly, his thumb swiping at the apple of your cheek.

You feel dazed, almost drunk, as you gaze at him, your eyelids heavy. Nodding sluggishly, you say, “Mhmm.”

Poe smiles, leaning in to press the gentlest of kisses against your lips. You melt, heart skipping as he slowly slides his other hand down to settle on your hip, the hand still on your cheek gently angling your head. He licks languidly into your mouth, swallowing the involuntary whine that escapes you. 

He quickly gets to work on your pants, flicking open the button of your jeans with his thumb, the zipper unfastening itself as he inches the material down over your hips. They bunch at your feet, stuck at the tops of your shoes. Undeterred, he slides down your body, peppering your skin with kisses along the way, and frees your feet from the confines of your shoes and pants. You look down at him as he works, shoulders braced against the wall. The dim light bounces off Poe’s curls, making them shine like an angel’s halo. The urge to sink your fingers into them again is so strong you can’t help but give in, sighing as the thick, soft hair brushes against your skin. Poe pauses, glancing at you from beneath his lashes. The look in his eyes makes you swallow hard, the unabashed want in them hitting you like a freight train. 

He smiles up at you, moving his hands slowly up your calves, your thighs, and coming to rest on your hips. His fingertips slip beneath the waistband of your panties, curling enough to drag them down, down over your hips. Your breath catches as his fingers drag behind fabric, raising goosebumps in their wake. He helps you step out of the garment and tosses them to the side, then meets your eyes again as he gently grips your calf, his eyes questioning. You know what he’s asking. You adjust your stance, putting more of your weight against the wall as he pulls your leg up over his shoulder. He leans in, eyelashes fluttering, his breath warm against your bare sex as he pauses to breathe you in, the softest of groans making your skin heat.

Your fingers find his curls again as he dives in, the molten heat of his tongue making you gasp. He groans, louder this time, as your fingers clench in his hair, as he teases your clit with the tip of his tongue.  Your heart races, soft moans spilling from your lips as Poe slowly takes you apart with his mouth. Your legs almost give out when he adds his fingers, the thick digits brushing over the most sensitive parts of you as he mutters about how amazing you taste. You’re already so close, each brush of his tongue and fingers making something hot coil in your gut, yet still somehow your orgasm hits you suddenly, your cunt fluttering around Poe’s fingers as he moans, sucking eagerly on your clit. 

He presses a wet kiss against your thigh as you come down, waiting to make sure you’re steady before standing to his feet again. You pull him to you quickly, moaning at the taste of yourself on his lips. He covers your body with his as he plunders your mouth again, his hands sliding down to your chest. You arch into his touch as he palms your breast through your bra, your own hands dropping down to fumble with his pants. You want to touch him, want to feel his skin against yours, want to feel him everywhere—inside you, all around you. 

Unable to wait, you reach into his pants the moment there’s enough room, palming his erection through the material of his boxers. He groans, breaking your kiss as you slip inside to take him in your hand. He’s hot and hard and velvet soft and the way he’s involuntarily thrusting into the loose circle of your fist is making you lose your mind. 

“Better stop that, sweetheart, unless you want this to be over real quick,” he pants, eyes screwed shut, forehead pressing against your cheek.

You bite your lip, the idea that he is so turned on that just this is enough to send him over the edge making you moan softly. Reluctantly, you do as he asks, releasing his cock and focusing on freeing it from his pants instead.

When he finally sinks inside you, he feels like heaven, like he was always meant to be there, like he’s the missing piece of the puzzle that is you; never have you felt so whole, so utterly complete. You brace your hands on the wall before you, arching your back as Poe thrusts into you, his cock brushing against your g-spot over and over again, sending shivers up your spine. His hand finds one of yours on the wall, the fingers of his other digging into your hip. He leans in, his muscled chest pressing against your back as he whispers the sweetest, most filthy things in your ear.

“I knew your pussy would feel like this,” he slurs, already drunk from the pleasure. “Knew you’d feel like heaven.”

His hand slides between your thighs, calloused fingers quickly finding and teasing your clit. You moan, clenching around him, eliciting a groan from him as he buries his face in the back of your neck.

“Fuck, so good,” he pants, his movements getting sloppier, “Can’t wait to feel you come, can’t wait to feel this pretty pussy squeeze me.”

You flutter around his length, dragging another groan from him. “Wanna fill you up, wanna come so deep you’ll feel me for days.”

You moan at his words, pushing back to meet his thrusts because you want that to. Needing to touch him, you reach back, your fingernails scratching across his thick thigh. His pace falters a little, his moan muffled. He’s close, and so are you, so close to that peak, so close to falling over the edge—

You cry out as you come, body shaking as euphoria rips through you. Poe falls with you, his face still buried in the back of your neck, moaning in relief as he spills himself deep inside you, just like he said he would. You wish you could see his face, he’s probably even more gorgeous when he comes. Oh well, maybe next time.

Poe’s hips keep thrusting weakly, fucking his come even deeper, the excess dripping down the inside of your thighs. He mouths at your skin, whispering his praise and thanks as he comes down from his high. You feel warm and fuzzy, but on the inside, strangely never more at peace. You wish you could stay here, stay like this, but the sheen of sweat on your skin makes you shiver as your body starts to return to its usual temperature. 

Poe wraps his arms around you tighter, hissing as his cock slips from your heat. After pressing a few kisses against your shoulder, he moves, picking up his shirt from the floor and shaking it out. You turn toward him, legs still wobbly from your orgasm. He smiles, helping you pull the garment over your head before leaning in for another kiss. You moan, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, his tongue molten as it slips between your lips. You part when air is necessary, foreheads pressed together as you both try to regain your breath.

“So, how’d I do, boss?” he asks, that damn twinkle in his eyes again.

You snort, teeth digging into your bottom lip. “Not bad for your first shift, Dameron.”

Poe grunts, leaning in to press a kiss against the hinge of your jaw. “Not exactly a stellar review.”

“You’ve got potential,” you say somewhat breathlessly as he nips and sucks at your skin. “But I think you can do better.”

He pulls back, meeting your gaze with a raised eyebrow. “Oh, you do, do you?”

You shrug nonchalantly, fingers tangling in the curls at the base of his neck. “You should know, I expect the very best from my staff.”

He hums, dark eyes dancing with mischief. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind, Ma’am.”

You grimace, scrunching your nose at him. He laughs, the sound igniting a spark of warmth in your chest as he reclaims your mouth in a kiss. 

Oh yes, you could absolutely get used to this.

If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖

🌟 Masterlist 🌟

You have to fend for yourselves as far as wardrobe goes but Leia's connections help, and soon all five of you are dressed to the nines, your outfits different yet still similar enough to indicate that you’re a packaged deal. A mix of anxiety and excitement permeate the rented car you’re in as it pulls up the venue, the flash of cameras almost blinding even through the tinted windows. Someone outside opens the door and helps Rose, who is closest, out first. Finn and Poe are last, and a small section of the crowd seems to go nuts over their appearance.

Eager smiles are plastered on everyone’s faces, including yours, as you take in your surroundings. It’s surreal to be somewhere you’ve always dreamed of being. Sure, you’re not nominated but how many people can say they were invited to the most prestigious award show in the music industry? How many more could say they’d been asked to present? 

The warmth of a hand on your back tells you Poe is beside you and you turn to him, smile widening as you meet his eyes. 

“Can you believe this?” you gush, leaning in so he can hear you over the din of the crowd.

He shakes his head, a dazed look on his face as he looks around. “I honestly can’t.”

You both laugh when he meets your eyes again, the excitement spilling out of you. 

A woman wearing a “Working” lanyard and a headset hurries over to you, looking a little frazzled as she waves her hands to get your attention.

“Hi,” she greets, a forced smile on her lips. “Black Squadron, right?”

“My information says only two of you are walking the carpet. The others are supposed to head through the back.”

You and Poe nod fervently as you gesture behind you toward Rose, Rey, and Finn who are clustered together with Leia. The woman glances at them briefly before rifling through the clipboard in her hand and shaking her head, her attention focusing back on you.

Your smile falls at her words, anger flaring in your gut as you shake your head at her. “No way. We walk together or not at all.”

The woman sighs tiredly, and a small part of you actually feels bad for being angry with her—you know the decision to exclude your bandmates probably wasn’t hers, that she probably answers to a higher power, but you refuse to let this happen. You’d rather leave altogether than leave your best friends behind. 

Leia suddenly appears at your other side and you assume Poe must’ve waved her over. She talks to the woman who, in turn, talks to someone else on her headset. There’s a brief pause and then she’s giving Leia a thumbs up. She nods at you and Poe as she passes, attending to the next group of arrivals.

Leia waves you both over and soon all five of you clustered in front of her.

“What happened?” Rey asks, looking between Leia and the woman you and Poe had spoken with.

“Just a misunderstanding,” Leia says, raising her eyebrows as she briefly meets your gaze.

Her look tells you it’s over, to move on, and you nod, accepting her answer, but can’t quite manage to reclaim your enthusiasm. The walk on the red carpet is a little overwhelming with all the cameras flashing and the people calling your name, but the presence of your closest friends helps. Finn and Rey lead the charge, waving excitedly at the crowd, doing exaggerated poses for photographers; their joy makes you smile. Rose is next, elegant as always, smiling sweetly and nodding in acknowledgement as she practically glides down the carpet; her presence is calming and you could not be more grateful to have her here with you. You and Poe bring up the rear, his hand steady and warm against your back as he smiles and nods at the crowds of people.

“This is insane,” he mutters to you at one point, looking a little dazed when you turn to meet his eyes. “I’ve never had anyone fight this hard to get my attention before.”

You sniff a laugh, the forced smile on your lips relaxing into a genuine one. “Did you forget that you perform on stage for a living?”

He chuckles, rubbing his hand over his chin as a man with a headset waves the two of you to stand on a piece of tape. “That’s different. This is…something else.”

You hum, smiling as a torrent of flashes assaults your vision. “Yeah, I guess I kinda get what you mean.”

Despite your attempts to soak in every moment, the event still seems to pass in a blur of camera flashes and a flurry of color. The after party is just as exciting, everyone getting even more of a chance to mingle with some of the biggest names in the industry. At some point, the five of you get separated, everyone involved in their own conversations. You and Poe had stuck together, but he’d wandered off ages ago to get you both another drink and as you’re laughing at the joke the man beside you just told, it occurs to you that he’s been gone longer than he ought to have been. 

The conversation continues around you as you crane your neck, searching the room for Poe. You spot Rey and Rose first, chatting and laughing with a few people they’d met at the ceremony. Finn is next, talking to an older gentleman, his attention completely focused on him. You frown, your eyes continuing to scan the room in search of Poe.

When you finally see him across the room, a tension you hadn’t realized had settled over you is released…until he smiles and laughs, and you realize he’s talking with someone.

A woman. 

She’s gorgeous, her skin glowing, smile wide and eyes shining as she laughs along with him. An odd feeling comes over you, churning in your gut, making you feel almost ill, and when she touches his arm, you flinch a little, anger flaring in your chest.

It’s then that you realize: you’re jealous. You immediately look away, shaking yourself as you huff slightly, a jolt of panic racing through you. He’s not really yours, you remind yourself. You have no claim over him, he can flirt with whoever he wants. Sure, you’re pretending to be a couple, something this woman should, in theory, know but…she doesn’t owe you anything and neither does Poe. Not really. Nevertheless, you feel a possessiveness over him that you can’t quite shake. The man beside you turns, attempting to draw you back into the conversation of the group around you, and you smile politely, trying not to glare across the room. 

What seems like eons later, Poe returns, drinks in hand and a soft smile on his lips. You thank him with a smile of your own, one you’re sure he’ll see right through, and turn back to the group. He leans in a moment later, his warm breath puffing against your ear.

“You okay?” he asks quietly, his shoulder pressing into yours.

You nod, keeping your attention on the woman telling a story that everyone around you seems to find amusing. Poe nudges you gently, his arm pressing more insistently against yours. After a moment, you sigh and glance over, his eyebrows raising in question.

“I’m fine,” you whisper, quickly turning your attention back to the group.

You hear him scoff beside you and fight the urge to roll your eyes. Annoyed, you nudge him back, digging your elbow into his side. He squirms, sucking in a sharp breath, and you smirk, suddenly feeling a little better.

“What was that for?” he whispers insistently.

You ignore him, keeping your gaze ahead. 

A warm hand encircles your bicep and you sigh as it gently pulls you away from the group and closer toward its host, to Poe. Reluctantly, you meet his gaze, and the look in his familiar brown eyes sends a pang of guilt through you.

“What’s wrong?” he asks softly, his thumb absently stroking your arm.

You swallow thickly as your anger at him almost instantly melts away.

“It’s nothing,” you dismiss, averting your gaze.

Poe scoffs and steps in closer, blocking your view of the room so that your focus returns to him. After a moment, you deflate, sighing as you shake your head at yourself. 

“Really, it’s nothing,” you say again, this time meeting his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

You can tell he’s not buying your brush off, but he doesn’t push it, not this time. Instead, he just nods, squeezing your arm reassuringly. A couple comes up to you then, drawing Poe’s attention. You smile hollowly at them as they introduce themselves, unable to shake your feelings.

—

With only ten to fifteen more shows left, tour is on its last legs, and you and the band are taking a much-needed break—no gigs, no press, no fans, nothing for a whole week. Rose’s sister Paige is visiting so she’s pretty much never around, and Finn and Rey signed up for some week-long intensive fencing class at the last minute because they’re dorks. Even Leia flew home for a few days.

That just left you and Poe. 

Thankfully though, you weren’t stuck languishing on your bus. Leia had convinced the label to spring for a suite at a nice hotel, one with amenities. It was even pet friendly, which meant Poe could bring up his cat BeeBee. Even the orange feline was happy to be off the bus, hopping from the table to the couch in the common area. Gracefully, he walks along the back of it toward where Poe sits strumming idly at his guitar. You’re across the room from him, enjoying your book and the sunshine on the balcony, the open doors allow a soft breeze wafting into the room, ruffling Poe’s unkempt curls.

The sound of Poe’s guitar reaches your ears but you pay it no mind…until you realize what he’s playing sounds familiar. You begin humming along, still pretending to read your book. He must hear you because he starts humming with you, his fingers more sure than they’d been a moment ago, the melody clearer. You glance up at him and catch his eye, the soft smile already on his face causing a matching one to stretch across yours.

Minutes later, you’re both on your feet, dancing and singing the song as Poe strums heavily on his guitar. You laugh as the song comes to its end, panting a little from the dancing and jumping around. 

“We should go out,” you say, realizing how bored you’d been before your spontaneous dance party.

Poe nods, already searching for his shoes. “Where are we thinking?”

You shrug, pulling on your own shoes and making sure you have your wallet. “Anywhere, maybe a bar or something?”

He hums, picking up BeeBee and giving him a kiss on the top of his head. “Sounds good. We can drop this one off at daycare on the way.”

You chuckle, scratching the orange cat behind the ears. “He’s gonna hate that.”

“Oh most definitely,” Poe agrees, heading toward the door. “You got the room key?”

You double check your pockets then nod, giving him a thumbs up for good measure, and you’re off.

The two of you end up at a karaoke bar two doors down from your hotel. You start off with a few drinks as you peruse the binder of available songs, each of you weighing the pros and cons. Poe chooses a folksy number that the crowd is less than enthused about, and you follow with a rock classic that at least garners a smattering of applause. You take a break, talking and laughing as you try to find a song you can agree to sing together. Food and drinks come and go as you deliberate and you can’t help but be grateful you don’t have to worry about driving anywhere later. 

The place is packed by the time your names are called for your duet. You’re buzzed as hell, giggling at everything, making Poe giggle in return. You barely make it through the song, busting out laughing every few words, and end up getting booed off the stage. Taking this as a sign from the universe to call it a night, the two of you leave, settling up your tab and staggering clumsily back to the hotel. 

You’re not sure when it happens, or even what prompts it, but one minute, you and Poe are in the elevator, giggling like maniacs, the next his mouth is on yours, his tongue slipping between your lips to tangle with your own. It feels good, he feels good. So warm, so solid, so familiar. He tastes like the whisky he’d been drinking earlier but also something else, something so decidedly Poe. You can’t put your finger on what it is, or even what it reminds you of, all you know is that you want more.

Poe pushes you against the nearest wall, his hands grasping at your hips as he slots his thigh between your legs. You moan, weaving your fingers into the depths of his lucius curls. He groans, your fingers twisting and pulling as he ruts against your leg. He presses against you even more, like he can’t get close enough, like he’ll never be close enough. Your hips tilt as you grind against his thigh, the rough fabric of your jeans creating a delicious friction between your legs that makes you whine into his mouth. You can’t breathe, but you don’t care. All you want right now is to keep kissing him, kissing Poe.

You must say his name out loud because he moans yours a moment later, pulling his mouth from yours to suck your earlobe between his teeth. His hands pull at you, hoisting you up a little so his thigh is flush against your center. Your breath hitches, the heat building to a crescendo as you continue to rock against him. His breath is hot on your neck as he drags his mouth down further, licking and sucking at every inch of your skin. You’re close, so close, the tension in your gut building and building until snaps. You gasp as you come, still writhing against his thigh, your fingers clenching in his hair. His groan against your neck is choked, his own hips stuttering as he too reaches his peak—

You wake with a start, immediately cringing as the sunlight streams in through your open windows. A groan escapes you and you fall back down onto the bed, pulling the covers over your head to block out the light.

It’s then that you realize you’re alone. 

You pause, peeking out from beneath the covers to look around the room to confirm your suspicions. Had last night really just been a dream? But it had felt so real. You sigh, scrubbing a hand over your face. 

Shit. You should really stop drinking. 

There’s a soft knock on your door and you freeze again, eyes wide as you pull the covers up around your shoulders. 

“Come in,” you croak, grimacing at the awful taste in your mouth.

The door creaks open after a second and a familiar dark-haired head pops in. Your heart skips at the sight and you curse internally. 

“Hey,” he says, looking as terrible as you feel. “Want to order some breakfast?”

You swallow thickly, nodding as you avert your gaze. “Yeah sure, just, um, gimme a few minutes?”

He nods, then stops, grimacing as he grabs his head. “Take your time. I’m gonna go lay down on the couch.”

It’s another hour before you emerge from your room, freshly showered and feeling a little more like yourself. 

But you can’t stop thinking about it, your “dream.” 

You’re not 100% sure that it was only a dream, but you’re also not 100% sure it wasn’t. It had just felt so real; so real you can still feel his lips on yours, feel his body against yours, his breath against your neck—

“You gonna eat that?” Poe asks, gesturing to the croissant on your plate.

“What?” you ask, jumping a little in surprise. “Oh. Yeah just…working up the energy.”

He grunts, slightly less grumpy now than he had been earlier as he sips on a mug of black coffee. 

You tear a piece of the pastry off and pop it in your mouth, stealing glances as you chew. He looks terrible, like he drank way too much last night (just as you had), but he still looks relaxed. One would assume that if he had kissed you senseless and made you come on this thigh, he’d probably be a little more on edge…right? 

Just ask him what he remembers, you think. You don’t have to be specific.

“Hey, um, what do you remember about last night?”

“Well, I remember it was fun,” he says, smiling a little as he takes another sip from his mug. “We probably shouldn’t have had that last round of drinks though. Why?”

You shrug casually as you eat another piece of your croissant. “Just…trying to fill in the gaps.”

He nods, pouring more coffee into his mug. “Sure you don’t want any coffee?”

“Maybe later,” you say, popping the rest of the pastry in your mouth. “Right now I’m trying to focus on rehydrating.”

He chuckles, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes. You take the opportunity to study him, eyes tracing every line and curve of his face. You’ve always known he was a good-looking guy, you’re not blind, but until your dream last night (because it must’ve been a dream, right?) you hadn’t really thought much about it. Now you find yourself wondering what his lips might feel like, how he tastes, how the morning scruff on his chin would feel against your skin—

“What?” he croaks, looking at you with one eye barely open.

You chuckle, shaking your head as you look away, ignoring the way your skin heats. “Sorry, still trying to  wake up.”

He grunts, scrubbing his hands over his face. “I’m gonna take a shower.”

You hum absently, sipping your water as he pushes heavily to his feet. He stretches, groaning in relief. The noise makes your stomach flip, moments from your “dream” flashing unbidden through your mind’s eye. Was it the same? You think it was. Does that mean he’s done it before and your brain just changed the context? Or had it really happened? Perhaps you’ll never truly know.

You watch him shuffle back to his room, a feeling welling in your gut that seems familiar but you can’t seem to name. You push it away, choosing to ignore it for now.

It was a dream, you tell yourself, only a dream. 

You will yourself to believe it.

If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖

🌟 Masterlist 🌟

PART THREE

Finn bites back a smile, before stepping back and nodding behind him to where the object of your ire is stretched out on the bed closest to the window. Seething, you storm over to him.

“What the hell, Dameron.”

Poe looks up at you in surprise before glaring at Finn in betrayal.

Finn shrugs, wordlessly throwing his hands up defensively as he all but runs toward the door.

"You know what they say,” Poe begins, reluctantly turning his attention back to you, “What happens on tour, stays on tour.”

You’re going to kill him. Like, straight up, flat out murder; tons of blood, possibly even some severed limbs…

You close your eyes in an effort to compose yourself, pressing a hand to your forehead as you sigh deeply. "Not when 3.5 million followers on Instagram see it!"

He shrugs. Shrugs. Like it’s no big deal, like it’s not a problem.

Yeah, you’re definitely going to murder him.

“Poe,” you begin, doing your best to control your anger, “You can’t just say something like this to the media and expect it to not blow up. What were you thinking?”

He shrugs again, adding one of his oh-so-charming smiles, and you fight the urge to scream in frustration. “It was a joke.”

“Yeah, this is hilarious,” you bite, turning your tablet to show him the Instagram post that started this circus.

FINALIZER EXCLUSIVE: Black Squadron’s leading man (FINALLY) confirms romantic relationship with fellow bandmate and co-songwriter. #breakingnews #blacksquadron #poedameron #thefinalizer

“As are the numerous texts and messages I now have to wade through.”

He huffs a laugh, crossing his arms defensively. “Come on, it’s a little funny.”

You glare in response.

“Free publicity?”

You shake your head, continue to glare daggers.

“Alright, alright. Fuck. I’m sorry, okay?” he concedes, deflating slightly as he runs a hand through his hair, “I just–I mean, we get that question all the damn time and…I don’t know, I guess I just felt like messing with them this time.”

You stare at him, your glare softening slightly. Ugh, you never could stay mad at him for long, even when he deserved it.

Sighing, you plop down onto the bed beside him, your back against the headboard. “You could’ve at least warned me, Poe, I mean, my parents called me.”

He chuckles at that, looking at you sideways with a raised eyebrow. “What’d your mom say?”

You snort, crossing your arms over your chest and shaking your head. “Let’s just say that she’s thought of some very creative ways to kill you.”

“More creative than yours?”

You grunt in response, shooting him a ‘do you really want me to answer that?’ look.

There’s a beat of silence before he heaves another sigh.

“I am sorry. Really. You’re right, I should’ve told you.”

“No,” you interject, turning to face him, “You should never have said it in the first place.”

He nods, gesturing toward you in agreement. “You’re completely right. Look, I’ll get with Leia and we’ll put some kind of statement out that clears the air. Sound okay?”

You chew your lip, glaring at him half-heartedly before grumbling, “Not really.”

He nods, scooting closer to you on the bed and bumping your shoulder with his. “How ‘bout if I throw in a bottle of that whiskey you like.”

You turn your head to look at him, eyes narrowed. “Make it two bottles. The big ones.”

“You got it, Sweetheart,” he says, smiling and holding his hand out for you to shake.

After staring at it for a moment, you roll your eyes and grasp it in yours, ignoring his blinding smile.

—

“You can’t be serious.”

There’s a beat of silence as you look back and forth between your manager and your bandmate.

“It’d just be for a few months,” Leia says nonchalantly. “And nothing even really needs to change that much.”

You squint at her, nose scrunched in confusion. “Other than the fact that we’ll be pretending to date, you mean?”

“You’re on tour for the rest of the year so, at most, you’ll probably have to field some questions about your ‘burgeoning romance’ until the novelty wears off, which it will. Eventually.”

You sigh, shifting uncomfortably in your seat.

“Look, it’s not like I’m asking you to make a sex tape,” Leia says, hands raised placatingly.

Poe snorts a laugh beside you, earning him a glare from the older woman. Slightly embarrassed, you cross your arms over your chest and shoot a glare at the man beside you.

“This your idea, Dameron?”

His eyebrows are raised in surprise when his gaze snaps to yours. “Wha–No, I–”

“It was mine,” Leia interjects, turning your attention back to her. “Did you know Black Squadron was trending at number one on pretty much every social media site for days after that Finalizer story went live?”

You scoff, ignoring the way your cheeks are starting to warm. “That’s great, Leia, but they’re talking about something that isn’t even real. What about our music? That’s what’s real, that’s what matters.”

She sighs, her eyes softening a little as she gazes at you. “Kid, my phone has been ringing off the hook for a week and my inbox is full of interview requests. This could be good for the band, for your music. It’s a chance to bring in new fans, fans that might not have even known about you otherwise.”

You chew your lip as you consider her words. A part of you agrees that this ruse could result in more people discovering your music, that it could end up being really great for the band. But the other part, the true artiste in you, is hesitant—you don’t want to be known for dating your bandmate, you want to be known for your talent.

“Have you run this by the others yet?” you ask with a sigh, meeting Leia’s eyes again.

The older woman shakes her head. “I wanted your blessing before I took it to the rest of the band.”

You nod absently, averting your eyes as you sink further into the couch, your shoulder pressing against Poe’s. “If everyone’s on board then…I guess we can give it a try.”

—

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Poe says, eyeing you with mild amusement as you pace back and forth in the green room of Late Night with Maz Kanata.

“Of course I have to do this. I agreed to do this,” you respond, running your hands down your front to smooth the non-existent wrinkles.

“Hey,” Poe says softly, gently grabbing your shoulders and halting your pacing. “If this is too much for you, just tell me. I have no problem flying solo.”

You sigh, meeting his eyes before shaking your head. “No, it’s fine. I just…don’t know if I can talk about ‘us,’ you know?”

He nods, his hands absently rubbing up and down your arms. “No worries, I can do all the talking. Not much of a change from the norm.”

You huff a laugh, chewing your lip as you nod. “True.”

There’s a quick knock on the door before it opens and a P.A. pokes her head in. “Get ready, you’re on in five.”

Poe nods at the frazzled-looking woman and thanks her before returning his attention to you. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be, I guess,” you say, swallowing thickly.

He studies you quietly for a moment before taking your hand in his and giving it a squeeze. “You’re gonna do fine.”

You nod absently, your brain conjuring up scenarios of all the things that could go wrong.

The P.A. shouts from the hall that you both need to be walking now and before you realize what’s happening, Poe’s pulling you through the door and suddenly you’re side-stage waiting for your cue.

You try to control your breathing, focusing instead on the steadiness of the man beside you—passing out right now is not an option.

“Hey,” Poe whispers, squeezing your hand again, “I’ve got you, okay?”

A small smile forms on your lips as you’re hit with a rush of affection for your friend. Turning to meet his eyes, you say, “I know you do.”

He briefly returns your smile with one of his own before his attention is stolen again by the P.A. who is frantically waving you on stage. 

In the end, the interview goes well, given the circumstances. Poe is just as charming as always, if not more so, and you manage to not make a complete and total fool of yourself on live television. 

Poe’s hand doesn’t leave yours the entire time.

—

In the end, Leia is right, nothing much does change. You and Poe still do the same things you’ve always done together, behave more or less the same way you always have and it’s…kind of irking you. You don’t really have time to think about it right now though. Tour is insane—every other night you’re in a different city, playing another venue, gazing into a sea of cheering people, the music thrumming in your veins. It’s exhilarating, even more so when they sing your words back to you, their faces flickering through seemingly every human emotion. It warms you to your soul to see them feel your music so deeply. It’s the reason you play, why you’re still playing after all these years. 

The energy in the room tonight is electric, zipping through your body with every cheer. You can’t seem to stop smiling, the unabashed joy on the faces of your fans nothing short of euphoric. As you pluck at your bass, you sway to the music, losing yourself in it. You sing along with Poe as he hits the chorus, smiling as the crowd sings along with you. When the second verse picks up, he takes his mic from off the stand and moves to the edge of the stage. The crowd goes nuts, cheering so loud you almost can’t even hear him sing. His smile is wide as he reaches the chorus again, pulling the mic away and pointing it at them as they belt the lyrics back to him. He laughs, moving the mic like a baton as they sing, as if conducting them like an orchestra. 

When the chorus is done, he puts the mic back to his lips, moving toward your side of the stage as he begins the last couple of verses. He catches your eye as he walks, mischief alighting in his eyes as he dances his way over to you. You chuckle into your mic, thankful that the sound is swallowed by the cheers and music permeating the room. The crowd is almost beside themselves by the time he makes it to your side, pressing in close as he puts his mic down so he can share yours. He sings the remaining lines of the song with his shoulder pressed into yours, breath fanning against your cheek as he turns his head. 

As the song winds down, he pulls back, jumping in time with Rey’s drum beats and Finn’s guitar riffs. You laugh again, shaking your head at him as you play along with the last few notes of the song. When it ends, he puts his arm around your shoulders, pulling you against his side as the crowd continues to cheer. The lights are in your eyes so you can’t see the entire crowd, but the ones you can see seem to be way more excited than usual. You shrug it off, not thinking much of it as Poe gives you one last squeeze before returning to his place on stage. 

You play the rest of the set without incident, and are almost sad when it’s time for the last song. It’s your most popular one, and as soon as Rose plays the opening notes on her keyboard, the crowd loses it, cheering louder than they have all night. You beam as you sing along, plucking in time with your bass. Poe makes his usual rounds: playing his guitar with Finn, singing a bit with Rose, clashing one of the symbols for Rey, and singing the last verse of the song with you. It’s what he always does, something any fan who’s seen you more than once knows, yet by the time he makes it over to you, the crowd is going crazy.

Poe is pressed against your side again as he shares your mic, belting out the lyrics as you harmonize with him. As you finish singing the last line, it occurs to you that your “relationship” with Poe could be the reason for their sudden enthusiasm and a bitterness settles in your stomach. He pulls away from the mic to cheer with the crowd once the song finishes, raising his arms in the air before bowing dramatically. 

You chuckle and shake your head at the theatrics, sharing an amused look with Finn from across the stage. Poe returns to your side after a moment, arm slipping around your waist as he leans into the mic to thank everyone for coming out to see them. It’s something he always does, he’s just a tactile person, but for some reason this time it feels fake somehow, like he’s still performing for the crowd. You brush off your thoughts as he releases you, arms coming up instead wrap around you in a hug. He laughs as the two of you stumble off of the stage, the weight of both him and your bass making you a little unbalanced.

You can’t help but laugh, still high from the show, as you half-heartedly push him away. “Get off me, loser.”

Still laughing, he leans in and presses a kiss to the side of your head, releasing you a moment later and basically attacking Finn who’s walking by cracking jokes with Rey. You slow a little, handing your instrument off to one of the stagehands with a breathless ‘thank you’ and end up walking beside Rose.

“Hey,” she says, eyes bright and shining with happiness. “Good show.”

You nod, smiling as you stretch your neck and shoulders. “Yeah, you too.”

A comfortable silence settles over the two of you as you walk, simply basking in the after-show glow. You can’t shake the thought you had during the show though. The thought that everyone was cheering for your fake relationship instead of your music, instead of the band. The thought keeps nagging at you, and by the time you reach the hallway with the dressing rooms, you turn to her. 

“Hey, didn’t it seem like the crowd was a little more…excited than usual tonight?”

Rose meets your eyes with a furrowed brow. “Not really. Why do you ask?”

“I dunno,” you shrug, trying to appear nonchalant. “Just. Whenever Poe came over to me on stage, it just seemed like they’d completely lose it.”

She shrugs, shooting a smile at someone you’re passing in the hall. “I mean, they’re always like that for you guys.”

You look at her, somewhat miffed. Are they? You’d never thought to notice before, if you were being honest. 

She smiles at you, an amused look in her eyes as she opens the door to your shared dressing room. “You want the first shower?”

You shake your head, still processing her words as you follow her inside. “No, you can go.”

They’re always like that for you guys, she’d said. Always. Were you really that oblivious? How had you never noticed before? You try to think back on the shows you had prior to the Finalizer article, prior to this whole charade, but you find that the details are a little fuzzy. You pay attention to the crowd when you play (of course you do, they’re the reason you’re even able to play to begin with), but you mostly focus on the music itself, on your bandmates. 

You tell yourself that it doesn’t really matter, that it shouldn’t bother you but…it does. In the end, you decide to let it be; all that matters is that they’re listening to your music, it doesn’t matter how or why…even if it’s based on a lie.

If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖

🌟 Masterlist 🌟

PART TWO

You’d started as comrades, fellow pilots in pursuit of the same goal: to save the galaxy from the tyranny of the First Order. He made a point to get to know every pilot and you’d been no exception. Your friendship developed quickly, the trauma of war bonding the two of you together to the point where either of you were rarely without the other. You ate together, trained together, flew together, spent all your free time together. You’d have lived together if they’d let you.

You’re still not sure when it happened, when you became more to each other. It was like someone flipped a switch; one second your heart had belonged to you, the next it belonged to Poe. You’d wanted to tell him, so badly, but you were afraid; what if he didn’t feel the same? What if you lost him? You didn’t think you could survive that. 

The morning of your first solo mission, you’d been a nervous wreck; not because you weren’t ready, but because of Poe. You hadn’t wanted to leave him, not without telling him how you felt. The words were there, right there on the tip of your tongue. But you couldn’t say them. You’d almost left, your tongue and heart heavy with all the things you couldn’t say. But he’d stopped you, pulling you back and claiming your lips in a desperate kiss. Time had stopped, sound rushed in your ears, the hot press of his lips against yours drowning everything else out until there was just…him.

“I couldn’t let you go without doing that,” he’d said after, his forehead pressed to yours, his breath fanning against your lips.

You’d smiled, relief flooding through you as you’d pulled his mouth back to yours. He was everything you’d never known you wanted, never known you could even dream of wanting: someone kind, brave, handsome, loyal to a fault. You’d often wondered what your life would be without him.

Never had you considered that would one day become a reality.

You’d been on a mission, one that had taken far longer than it should have. You’d wanted to get back to base, to tell the General what you’d learned, wanted to get back to Poe—Maker, had you missed him—but you’d stumbled upon a piece of intel and had to see if it led anywhere.. It had been too risky to try and send word of your delay to the Resistance—what if the First Order had intercepted your comm? A gamble for sure, but in the end, it had paid off.

When you’d finally made it back, you’d immediately gone to see the General for debrief, dutifully providing the information you’d stumbled upon. So impressed was the General that she’d given the mission that came from that intel to you. You’d been so excited to tell Poe, had been so sure he’d be thrilled for you.

You’d found him in your room, had thrown your arms around him the second you’d seen him. He’d hugged you so tight, burying his face in your neck as he held you. You remember feeling so loved in that moment.

Which is why what ultimately happened seemed like it had come out of nowhere.

He’d been so proud, telling you that it was about time Leia saw how incredible you were, that he knew you’d do an amazing job. He was even more thrilled when you’d asked him to come with you.  Obviously, he’d said yes, never one to pass up any chance to be with you. 

It had gone well, so well, that a few weeks later, Leia offered you an even bigger mission, one that would take you off base for months. You’d been so torn, excited at the opportunity to help the Resistance but also not wanting to leave behind the man you loved.

When Poe found out about the offer, he’d immediately encouraged you to go, said it was an amazing opportunity and that no one was better suited for it than you. You’d been touched by his words, sure, but you wondered why had it felt like he was suddenly pushing you out, pushing you away. You chose to ignore it, assuming he’d tell you if  he had any doubts but the night before you were set to leave, he’d pulled you aside and broken up with you.

You’d been devastated—your best friend, the one person you loved most in the galaxy. If nothing else, you suppose it had made it easier for you to leave, easier to throw yourself into your work. And you had, rising through the ranks quickly, gathering intel from all sorts of places. 

Years have gone by since your time on D’qar, since your time with him. You still hear about him occasionally; General Organa’s golden boy, best pilot in the Resistance. It still hurts a little every time you hear his name, even after all these years. You just can’t figure out why—what had happened? Hadn’t you been happy? Hadn’t you been in love? Hadn’t you dreamed of building a life together someday? Somewhere quiet where you could grow old together? Perhaps he hadn’t been as serious about that dream as you, perhaps you had loved him more than he’d loved you. 

Perhaps it was time to stop dwelling on this—on him—and finally move on. 

—

Poe hurries along the corridor, BB-8 hot on his heels. He’s late, his training session with the new recruits running longer than he’d anticipated. Leia was gonna kill him. When he finally makes it to the briefing room, it’s already in full swing. Leia shoots him a disapproving glare—both for his lateness and the interruption. He winces in apology and quickly takes a seat, doing his best not to disrupt things any more than he already has. He tries to listen, to be attentive, but he can’t help but glance at the others present. There are some familiar faces, some new, and some—one specifically—old.

His breath stalls in his chest, heart pounding, eyes widening as they drink you in. You haven’t changed at all, still as beautiful as the last time he’d seen you. He can’t believe you’re here, he never thought he’d see you again. He’d wondered many times over the last few years how you were, where you were, what you were doing, if you were okay. 

Did you ever think about him? Probably not, he’d broken your heart after all. But it had been the right thing to do, hadn’t it? You’d had this amazing opportunity, one he knew you’d wanted to take, and he hadn’t wanted to be that thing that held you back. Letting you go was one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do; it had gutted him, left a hole in his heart that could never be filled. He’d wanted to marry you, had been prepared to give you his mother’s ring, but it would’ve been selfish. Instead, he’d done what he’d thought was best, for you and for the Resistance. When you left, he’d thrown himself wholly into the cause, working his ass off night and day to become the best pilot he could be. 

The sight of you is like a knife to the heart. He’s been numb for so long, he realizes, has been floating through life pushing away his feelings instead of dealing with them. Should he talk to you when this is over? Is that something you’d even want? Probably not but he supposes he should at least try.

When the briefing is over, Poe realizes he hasn’t heard a word of it, too distracted by your presence. He’ll have to get the cliff’s notes from Finn later. As everyone files out of the room, he rises from his seat, lagging behind as he watches you and Leia talk at the front of the room. You don’t even glance in his direction when you’re finished, simply nodding to the General and exiting the room. Poe doesn't know if he’s relieved or disappointed. Leia watches you go, a frown on her face, then turns to look at him. Her frown deepens.

“I have a mission for you, Commander,” she says eventually, waving him over and handing him a disc. “You leave tomorrow morning.”

—

Poe was exhausted. He’d spent half the night prepping for this mission and the other half thinking about you. He supposed it didn’t matter much now that he was being shipped off, you probably wouldn’t even be here when he returned, might already be gone, actually. He should’ve been relieved but instead he just felt…uneasy.

He yawns as he trudges across the hangar deck, slowly making his way to the small transport vessel sitting on the far side. He doesn’t have much information other than that it’s an undercover operation that will take them deep into First Order territory. He’d been studying the star charts all night. Though he’s only there to fly the ship, he knows whatever they’re going there for must be important, Leia wouldn’t have sent him on just any mission. He wishes he could’ve at least brough BB along with him but, due to the level of secrecy, no droids were allowed. 

There’s no one around when he makes it to the ship, so he decides to head inside, if only to get acquainted with the controls (not that he really needs to but he likes to be thorough). His boots clunk dully on the hollow metal floors as he makes his way on board, heading straight to the cockpit. He goes over his preflight checklist in his head, making a note to circle back and check the engine vents before take off. 

He makes it to the cockpit in no time, immediately stopping in his tracks when he crosses the threshold, his mouth falling open in surprise.

You. 

Initially he wonders if you’d specifically requested he be your pilot, but quickly nixes the idea; there’s no way, not after the way things had ended between you. No, this has Leia written all over it. Poe sighs, bracing himself for a fight; he’s betting she didn’t tell you who you’d be working with either. 

Poe clears his throat, averting his eyes briefly as you turn to face him. Your face falls at the sight of him and his heart plummets into his stomach.  You look around him, as if searching for someone else, then return your gaze to his, jaw clenched.

“Leia sent you?” you ask, your face slipping into an emotionless mask.

He swallows, nodding. “Yep.”

You nod back, then glance away, eyes landing on the pilot’s seat. “Start flight prep, we leave in twenty.”

“Yes, sir,” Poe responds respectfully, immediately moving toward the console.

His heart’s pounding in his chest, so loud he almost misses your muttered curse as you leave the room.

—

You try to be professional, really you do, but…it’s Poe. The second you saw him in that briefing, you’d known your feelings for him were still there, that they’d never truly gone away. What happened still hurts though, even after all these years.. You hate that he’s here, hate that he’s distracting you during such an important mission…but also, you kind of don’t. Hate him, that is. You’ve missed him, despite everything, and you loathe yourself for it.

The two of you fly in silence to the coordinates provided by your contact, the ship retrofitted with some special hyperdrive that Rey reengineered to be a zillion times faster than it normally is. You’d have to thank her for that when you returned, wanting to be alone with Poe for as little time as possible. 

The mission goes well—you get in, get what you need, and get out. The flight back feels longer somehow, feels like it drags on for ages. After hours of silence, of only his own thoughts for company, Poe just can’t take it anymore.

“Why did you leave?” he asks quietly, his voice rough with emotion.

Your mouth falls open in shock, the question taking you aback. You take a few deep breaths, trying to calm your agitation. You can’t look at him, can’t bear to see the look on his face, to see the hurt in his eyes, even though he’s the one that caused it.

“Why’d you let me?” you retort, your own pain evident even though you try to hide it.

You know he hears it, he was always good at that, at reading you.

“I didn’t want to hold you back,” he explains, regret and uncertainty lacing his tone.

You scoff, shaking your head, still refusing to look at him. “Please. Just admit you didn’t love me as much as I loved you.”

“You think I  didn’t love you?” he asks, sounding offended as he stands to his feet, “I was gonna ask you to marry me.”

You freeze, stunned by his admission.

He pauses too, realizing what he’s just said, what he’s let slip. He sighs, running a hand through his hair as he turns away, embarrassed.

“You were?” you ask softly, your anger weakening somewhat.

He hesitates, glancing at you over his shoulder. He nods, swallowing thickly as he looks away again.

Regret, hurt, and joy all war within you. All this time. All this time you’d thought he hadn't loved you but he had. You suppose you can understand why he’d done it, it made sense on some level, though it doesn't lessen the hurt his actions caused.

You still love him, and while it might not be the best decision you ever make, you can’t let him go, not again, not with the knowledge that he still has feelings for you too.

“Poe,” you begin, standing to your feet.

He turns, cautious.

“I–” you start, throat closing around the words.

He seems to understand though, his face crumbling in a mixture of relief and earnestness as he races to your side. “I’m so sorry, I–”

You hold up a hand, stopping him mid sentence. “It’s—well, it’s not okay but, I think it could be. Someday.”

He smiles softly, nodding as he holds your gaze, his hand gently cradling your elbow. The warmth of him seeps through your sleeve, the familiar scent of him invading your nose. Maker, it’s been ages since you were this close to him, to anyone.

Suddenly, all you want is to kiss him. Something familiar flickers in his eyes and it makes you ache, a longing so strong settling in your gut you hadn’t even known was even possible. He must feel it too, his eyes almost black as he inches closer, jaw slack. He whispers your name, breath ghosting over your lips. You swallow, reaching up to grab his collar, your fingers sliding over the soft fabric as you pull him closer. 

You both sigh when your lips touch, the familiar warmth and taste of him comforting, like coming home. He slides his hands up your arms to your face, palms cupping your cheeks as he greedily licks into your mouth. Your fingers are clenched in the fabric of his shirt, holding him against you, as if he might try to pull away, might try to leave you again. Your hip bumps against his and he moans, breaking the kiss. Poe pants, mouthing his way across your cheek, down to your neck. Your fingers tangle in his curls, pulling at the silken strands when he nips and sucks at your skin. He groans, the sound skittering across your skin, raising goosebumps.

“Poe,” you moan, eyes fluttering shut as he soothes the bruise he’s made on your neck with his tongue.

Your movements are desperate, frantic, your clothes quickly falling to the floor, mouths barely parting. Everything is blurred, time slowing as you melt into one another, becoming one once more. When he’s finally sheathed inside you, you can’t help but feel complete, like you’ve reclaimed a piece of your soul you hadn’t realized was missing. It’s overwhelming. There are so many things you still need to talk about, things you still need to work through, but you know now that you’ll do it together.

He’s still above you, just enjoying the feel of you, of the sight of you, gazing at you with unfiltered love in his eyes. When he catches your gaze, he smiles, and you can’t help but pull him down for another kiss. Poe sighs, his breath shuddering as he pulls back slightly, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Marry me,” he breathes, the weight of his mother’s ring resting contentedly against your bare chest.

Tears well in your eyes, a giddiness racing through you, escaping in the form of a surprised laugh. Was this a dream? It had to be, right? Less than 24 hours ago, you would’ve told anyone who asked that you hated Poe Dameron, yet here you were about to accept his offer of marriage. 

“Yes,” you whisper, smiling wide as you pull him in for another kiss.

He laughs, your kiss muffling the sound as he finally begins to move hips. His thrusts are unhurried and deep, stoking the fire inside you until it’s a raging inferno. He feels so good, better than you remember, his cock stretching you, hitting you just right, every move sending shockwaves through your entire body. You cling to each other, exchanging moans and breathy sighs, eyes locked as if the other might disappear.

“I love you,” he slurs, drunk on you, on the pleasure coiling in his belly. “Love you so much, sweetheart.”

You can only whine in response, his public bone brushing deliciously against your clit with every press of his hips, pushing you higher and higher. You’re so close already, can feel the edge of the cliff looming, can feel the final peak before the plunge.

“Come for me,” he pants, his growing movements sloppy as he nears his own peak. “Please. Wanna feel you.”

You come with a shout, the force of it slamming into you like a freighter. Distantly, you hear his broken moans, your blood rushing in your ears as your body shakes with pleasure. The fluttering of your cunt sends Poe over the edge, his eyes rolling back in his head as he empties himself into you, filling you to the brim with his release. He collapses on top of you, your bodies slick with sweat as you try to catch your respective breaths. You fall asleep, wrapped in each other once more, hope blossoming in your chest for the first time in a long time.

If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖

🌟 Masterlist 🌟 🍵Coffee & Cream Zine🍵

It was late last year, after one of many missions in the Outer Rim. You’d been having a drink at the Cantina, drowning your sorrows after the loss of a friend. He’d been doing the same for similar reasons. You’d gotten to chatting, commiserating, slinging back drink after drink, and had soon ended up outside Poe’s quarters sloppily making out against the door. He’d been solid, and warm—and such a good kisser—and Maker, you’d just needed the comfort he was offering. So, you’d slept together. You don’t remember too much, just flashes here and there, but it must’ve been awful because the next morning, he was nowhere to be found. You’d been embarrassed to say the least but thankfully you didn’t really run in the same circles. You’d never told anyone about it and it appeared he hadn’t either, so you’d just tried to forget about it.

“Poe,” you say, voice shaking slightly. “Long time no see.”

He has the decency to look at least a little uncomfortable, which gives you some hope that he’s not a complete nerf herder. 

“About that–”

You cut him off with a hand, shaking your head. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

He pauses, lips still parted. He nods after a moment, briefly averting his gaze.

An awkward silence falls between you before he breaks it with a question. “Still drink spice rum?”

Your eyes widen a little in surprise—he remembered your preferred drink? “Oh, um, yes.”

He smiles gesturing toward the bar. “Can I get you one?”

After a moment’s hesitation, you nod. So, this date was still on then?

He returns and hands you the glass of rum, just the smell of it putting you a little more at ease. “Thanks.”

Silence falls between you again, but it’s less awkward somehow. 

“How’s BB-8?” you ask, gingerly sipping on your drink.

Poe’s eyes light up at the mention of his droid and it kind of warms your heart a little. “He’s good, thanks. Just got back from a mission in the Mid Rim so he’s getting cleaned up by the techs at the moment.”

You nod, trying to make yourself relax a little. “So the mission was successful then? I know you can’t go into details but…”

He nods enthusiastically, his mouth otherwise occupied with his Jet Juice. “Yes, definitely successful.”

“Good,” you reply, wetting your lips.

Poe’s gaze briefly drops to your mouth and your skin heats. You swallow hard, the memory of what kissing him felt like popping into your mind unbidden.

Kriffing hell, you had to get out of here.

But you don’t, instead choosing to torture yourself with more awkward conversation. You talk about a lot of things, but none of it feels natural. Not even after four spice rums. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he offers you an out, explaining that he has an early call tomorrow. Relieved, you jump to your feet, swaying a little, your head spinning a little. Maker, maybe four spice rums was too many on an empty stomach…

You feel Poe’s hands on your shoulders as he tries to help steady you, a concerned look on his face. 

“You okay?”

You chuckle, slightly embarrassed. “I think I just…stood up too fast.”

He looks unconvinced but doesn’t try to stop you as you move to walk away from the table you’d been sitting at, your legs feeling like jelly. 

“Hey, um, maybe I should walk you back?” he offers, eyebrows raising hopefully.

You shake your head, then immediately regret it, the quick movement making the room spin.

“Okay,” you hear Poe say, his warm, strong hands steadying you once more. “I’ve got you, it’s alright.”

He threads your arm through his, his voice soft as he directs you to wrap your fingers around his forearm for more balance. It gets better the longer you walk, your feet less clumsy, the room less…spinny. You’re pretty much back to normal by the time you make it to your quarters.

Wordlessly, you key the door code in, the familiar snick of the door opening reaching your ears.

“Thanks for walking me back,” you tell him softly, staring resolutely at your feet.

“Of course, anytime,” he says, slowly releasing you from his hold. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” you chuckle breathlessly, stealing a brief glance at him. “Just a little embarrassed.”

He tsks, leaning his shoulder against the wall beside the door. “Embarrassed? What for? Not like I haven’t seen you drunk before.”

You snort, shaking your head at the low blow. “This is true.”

He’s smiling when you finally meet his eyes, the tension between you thawing slightly. You stare at each other for a moment, Poe’s face shifting before he looks away. He chews his lip, drawing your attention as he says, “I know you said you didn’t want to talk about it but—”

“I still don’t,” you interject, averting your gaze once more. “Look, I get it. It was bad. Let’s  just…be adults and move on, okay?”

Poe’s brow furrows at your words. “What was bad?”

You scoff, not daring to meet his gaze. “You know.”

“I really don’t,” he argues, sounding genuinely perplexed.

You sigh, annoyance flickering in your chest. “The sex obviously.”

“Y–you thought it was bad?” he asks after a beat, stepping a little closer to you.

His proximity forces you to meet his eyes.

“You’re the one that left,” you whisper, swallowing thickly as you begin to walk into your room. “Good night, Poe.”

His hand on your bicep halts your progress and you snap your head back toward him, the quick movement making the hallway spin for a moment. 

“You were the one that left.”

Your mouth opens and closes wordlessly before you respond. “What?”

Poe leans in, close enough that you can feel his breath against your cheek. “I left to go get breakfast for both of us and when I came back, you were gone.”

No, that’s…that’s not possible…Is it? 

“I–,” you begin, exhaling heavily. “When I woke up, you were gone. So I thought—-”

He curses under his breath, releasing your arm as he runs a hand through his curls. “Listen, I would never—,” He pauses, swallowing hard before continuing. “I’m so sorry you woke up alone.”

His words ignite a spark in your chest, the warmth of it permeating, spreading out toward your fingertips. “Thanks.”

“Could we—,” he begins, wetting his lips. “Could we maybe start over?”

You smile softly, meeting his earnest brown eyes. “I think I’d like that.”

He smiles back, relieved.

—

The next date you have ends in Poe's quarters again, but this time you remember every second—every kiss, every sigh, every brush of skin against skin. It's so good. He makes sure you know he's still there in the morning, too, waking you up with his head between your thighs.

Maybe your friends were right, maybe he is actually The Perfect Guy.

If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖

🌟 Masterlist 🌟

Once you make it to the front, you greet the cashier (Finn), make a comment about the crowd, and order your usual. You stand to the side, scrolling through your phone as you wait for the barista to call out your name for pickup. They do so a few minutes later, your cup sitting on the table beside the counter. You call out a thank you as you grab it, your attention reclaimed by an incoming call. As you slip out the door, you answer, chatting idly with your friend Rose as you make your way down the sidewalk. You take a sip from the cup and hum, the warm liquid seeping into your belly and warming you from the inside out. 

You hang up with Rose when you reach your destination, pausing outside to drain the rest of your coffee. Satisfied, you move to toss the empty cup into a nearby trash can, halting when you notice writing beneath the cardboard sleeve.

If you were a triangle you’d be acute one.

You blink, staring at the writing blankly for a moment, before huffing out a laugh. 

This barista, it seems, has a thing for bad pick up lines.

You snap a photo of the cup before tossing it into the trash, chuckling again to yourself as you head inside and out of the cold.

—

You stop in again about a week later. Your workday had run late and you were convinced that the only thing that could fix it was a coffee from your favorite place. There’s a girl at the register this time named Rey and she smiles warmly at you when it’s your turn to order. Somehow, her smile makes you feel a little lighter as you head over to the side to wait for your drink and you’re grateful to her for it.

As you wait, you allow yourself to people watch, briefly considering whether or not to snag the table the man in the corner just got up from when your phone vibrates. Cursing quietly, you quickly grab it from your pocket. Just as you’re about to answer, your name is called by the barista. You return your phone to your pocket, deciding you’ll call whoever it was back later as you head over to the counter. 

The barista is a man with dark hair and kind eyes that you’ve seen a few times before but don’t recall knowing the name of. Your eyes flick to where his name tag should be, but are disappointed to see only an empty space. Ignoring the disappointment that lances through you, you meet his eyes, smiling at him as he hands you the cup, your fingers brushing against his.

“Thanks,” you say, nodding politely as you back away.

“You’re welcome,” he responds, his smile as soft as his eyes.

Something flutters in your belly as you turn away, clutching the cup to your chest. 

Your phone rings again as you push open the door and you scoff, taking it from your pocket and standing off to the side as you answer it. You sip on your drink as your boss rants about one thing or another, and you have to fight not to roll your eyes. Just as you’re about to walk away, you notice writing beneath the cardboard sleeve. Giddiness swells in your chest as you pull it down with your thumb, your teeth digging into your bottom lip.

If you were a Transformer, you’d be Optimus Fine.

You try to smother your smile at the cheesy line but it spreads across your lips nonetheless. You’re half-hoping he’s not paying attention when you glance back inside the shop, your skin warming a little when his gaze meets yours. He nods at you through the window, smile somehow both bashful and smug. You nod back, raising your cup to him as you take another sip.

His attention is reclaimed by his next customer, jolting you back to reality. A reality where your boss is calling your name through your phone. You apologize, asking them to continue as you start to walk away. As you do, you steal one last glance inside, smiling to yourself as you head home for the evening.

—

You visit again a few days later, your belly fluttering with nervous excitement. As you wait in line, you crane your neck to try and get a look at the day’s baristas, but are again thwarted by the massive coffee machines blocking your view. Sighing, you wait your turn, smiling at Finn once you make it up to the counter. 

Once you realize your admirer does not appear to be working today, you sigh, your excitement somewhat dampened. You pass the time on your phone as usual, mindlessly scrolling through news and various social media sites you’re subscribed to. Absorbed, you jolt when your name is called a moment later, head quickly snapping in the direction of the voice.

It’s him.

He smiles when your eyes meet his and you can’t help but smile back. Something in his gaze ignites your insides, burning gently beneath your skin as you approach the counter. He waits there for you, sliding your cup toward you once you make it there.

“Thanks,” you say, breath hitching slightly when your fingers brush his.

He nods, the barest hint of pink on his cheeks. “Any time.”

Your eyes dip bashfully, catching on the name badge pinned to his shirt. 

Poe. His name is Poe.

He looks like he’s about to say something, but then another employee calls his name and he turns away. Disappointment washes over you and the moment is broken. Not wanting to hold up the line any longer than you already have, you move out of the way, pulling the cardboard sleeve of the cup down expectantly.

 I'd like to take you to the movies, but they don't let you bring in your own snacks.

His phone number is beneath it.

You press your lips together in an attempt to subdue the maniacal smile trying to spread across your face, chancing another look at Poe. Your heart skips a little when your eyes meet his again. He raises a questioning brow at you, you feel your skin heat, quickly nodding in acknowledgment and all but running from the shop. You’ll text him later to work out the details once you’ve gathered your courage a bit.

—

He’s already waiting when you arrive, shifting on his feet by the entrance to the theater as he scans the crowd for you. He looks good, his white t-shirt a black leather jacket, tight dark-washed jeans, and combat boots giving him a bit of a bad boy vibe. Butterflies flutter in your belly as you make a beeline for him through the crowd. His eyes light up the moment he spots you and you can’t help the little jump your heart does when he smiles.

“Hey,” you greet breathlessly, praying your smile doesn’t look as maniacal as it feels.

“Hey,” he responds, his smile soft as he reaches his hand out to you. 

You take it of course, your breath catching at the contact. It’s a little juvenile perhaps, the silly way your body is reacting to him, but you can’t seem to help it; there’s something special about him, you can feel it in your bones, in your soul. 

You chat with Poe briefly as the two of you walk inside the theater, your hands still clasped. The movie is good, or at least you think it is. Honestly, you were so focused on him, you barely even remember it. You share a bucket of popcorn, your hands brushing every other time either of you reaches for another handful. He’s so warm beside you, so solid, his presence oddly comforting given how little you know about him. 

After the movie, he takes you to his favorite food truck, insisting that popcorn is not a sufficient enough meal. You sit on a bench nearby, talking and laughing as you eat and it’s nice, so nice. He tells you about his family, about his lifelong dream of being a pilot, about his cat Bee Bee, and you, in turn, divulge your own life stories, tell him about your dreams. Needless to say, the night ends far too quickly and, even though it’s almost midnight, you don’t want to go home, don’t want to go back to a life that doesn’t have him in it. He walks you home but you’re at the steps that lead into your apartment far too soon.

“This is me,” you tell him, gesturing to the door behind you, your other hand clasped loosely in his. 

You want to invite him inside, want him to stay so you can keep talking to him, can keep looking at him (because damn it if he doesn’t get more and more attractive by the minute). He hums, nodding as he takes a step toward you, the action forcing your gaze to his.

“So,” he breathes, a mischievous look in his eyes, “Are you gonna kiss me or do I have to lie to my diary?”

You snort, shaking your head at him as you try (and fail) to bite back an amused chuckle. He beams, as if making you laugh is his favorite pastime. You pretend to consider his question, looking at him slyly from beneath your lashes, then grab ahold of his jacket and pull him closer. He melts when your lips touch his, his free hand coming up to cradle your cheek. He’s warm, the taste of him sweet with just a hint of spice. Neither of you wants it to end but, regrettably, air is a necessity and you’re forced to pull away, pressing your foreheads together as you try to regain your respective breaths.

“Goodnight,” you breathe, smiling at him softly. 

He smiles back, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “Goodnight.”

—

At some point—you’re not 100% sure when—the bad pickup lines just become his Thing; not a day goes by where he doesn’t find a way to sneak at least one into a conversation. Some are cheesy as hell (“Four plus four equals eight, but you plus me equals fate.”), while others are so bad they’re hilarious (“Did it hurt when you fell from the vending machine? Because you look like a snack.”). Strangely though, it just makes you fall for him more.

You’ve been dating for a few months now, spending as much time together as your schedules allow. It’s the end of a long, grueling week and all you’d both wanted to do was stay in and veg. You and Poe sit on the couch, curled against each other as you watch some mindless action film. It’s getting late and you’re starving but you have zero desire to cook anything for dinner and you doubt he does either.

“What do you wanna order for dinner, babe?” you ask, you hand splayed against his chest.

He hums, considering, then says, “Pizza?”

You make a noise of agreement; pizza does sound good right now. You’re so comfortable though, nestled against Poe’s side, your head resting on his shoulder.

“Can you call it in? Please?” you ask, looking up at him with pleading eyes. “You’re so much better at it than me.”

Poe snorts, looking at you in amusement. “I’m better than you at ordering pizza? Careful with the compliments, sweetheart, I might get a big head.”

Immediately, he reaches for his phone, dialing the number for your favorite pizza place. You smile at him brightly, then lean in to press a kiss to his cheek.

“My hero,” You tease, chuckling when he playfully rolls his eyes.

The pizza comes and it gets eaten quickly and soon you’re both nodding off on the couch, another movie playing in the background. Poe nudges you gently, and when you look up at him in question, he smiles. 

“Wanna share your side of the bed tonight?” he asks, quirking his brow suggestively.

You laugh, shaking your head as you playfully smacking his chest. “You’re ridiculous.”

His eyes shine at your joy as he gasps somewhat theatrically. “Wow, a simple ‘no’ would have sufficed.”

You chuckle, slipping your hand up his neck to tangle in his curls. 

“I never said it was a no,” you whisper, pulling him close and claiming his lips in a kiss.

—

You move in together several months into your relationship, a slightly bigger place with just a tad more space, and even a little terrace that Bee Bee likes to sun on. The two of you quickly fall into a routine, waking up early, going to work, coming home, making dinner together. Poe gets up a little earlier than you thanks to his shifts at the Hutt and has taken to making you breakfast and lunch every day. Nothing fancy, just some coffee and toast, a sandwich and some carrot sticks. 

His penchant for bad pick-up lines has yet to wane, he’s even taken to writing them down. He leaves you little notes everywhere, be it in the apartment, your pockets, in your lunchbag. You smile fondly as you open today’s note, chuckling softly at its contents (“Hey, tie your shoes! I don’t want you falling for anyone else.”).

When you make it home that night, he’s already there, lounging on the couch. You greet him with a smile, dropping your things at the door and sitting down beside him. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says, his voice soft as he wraps his arm around you and pulls you against his side.

You smile, leaning in to peck his lips. “Hi,” you whisper as you pull away, shifting to settle against his side.

He smiles back, his eyes roaming over your face languidly, as if he’s committing every detail of you to memory. 

“Ya know,” he begins, his voice gentle and low, “If I had a nickel for every time I saw someone as beautiful as you, I’d have five cents.”

You sniff a laugh, your skin heating at the compliment, at the way he’s looking at you. You’re not sure you’ll ever get used to it, to his sincerity, to the unabashed love that shines in his eyes. It’s clear that he means every word, no matter how cheesy.

“You’re a sap, you know that,” you tease, leaning in to kiss him again.

He hums, smiling against your lips. “I’ve been called worse things.”

You chuckle as you pull away, gazing at him fondly for a moment before shifting to settle against his chest.

He sighs contentedly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You both watch the television in silence for a minute, your fingers mindlessly tracing the chain beneath his t-shirt. Not for the first time, you think about how lucky you are to have this, to have him. He makes you happier than you’ve ever been and you’re so grateful to have him in your life.

—

Sunday mornings are your favorite, not only because you get to sleep in but also because Poe does as well. Waking up with him wrapped around you is the highlight of your week, the warm solidness of him feeling more like home than any building ever has. Today though, you wake up alone, his side of the bed mussed and cold, as if he’s been up for hours. You frown, wondering for a moment if you’d gotten the days wrong.

Then you notice the smell of freshly-brewed coffee, hear faint clanging in the kitchen just outside the bedroom door. You smile softly, realizing Poe must be out there making breakfast and sit up, stretching all the kinks from your neck and back. Just as you’re sliding out from beneath the covers, the door swings open and in walks Poe. He smiles when he sees that you’re already awake.

“Morning, sweetheart.”

You walk over, smiling as you grab ahold of his t-shirt and pull his mouth to yours. You hum at the taste of him. 

“Good Morning, indeed.”

He chuckles as you pull away, letting his gaze linger on your face. “I made you breakfast.”

You sigh, hand resting on his chest. “You’re too good to me, you know that, right?”

He tsks, pressing a kiss against your cheek. “If anyone is too good, it’s you. Now c’mon.”

You follow him from the room, his hand clasped loosely in yours. Your heart skips in your chest when he guides you over to the table and see all your favorites beautifully laid out, the table set for two.

“Poe—” you begin, so touched by this display. 

“Sit,” he insists, his voice soft. “I’ll go grab the coffee.”

You nod, smiling as he turns away, then settle down into the chair to wait. Your attention is reclaimed by the food as soon as he’s out of sight, a warm ache settling in your chest. He was always doing stuff like this, sweet man that he is, and it’s rarely ever for any particular reason, it’s always just because he wants to. 

Poe returns a few minutes later, a mug in each hand, and sets them both on the table. He’s about to join you, when he pauses, patting his pants pockets. 

“Oops, forgot something,” he mutters, heading back to the kitchen.

While you wait for him to return, you gaze again at the table and notice something you hadn’t before: the corner of a bright pink post-it note poking out from beneath your plate. You sniff a laugh, knowing it’s likely one of his little notes. 

I always thought happiness started with an ‘h,’ but it turns out mine starts with ‘u.’

He’s beside you again before you realize he’s even returned to the room, and just as you’re turning to look at him, he drops to one knee.

Your heart skips in your chest, mouth falling open in shock as you meet his gaze. “Poe?”

He smiles, eyes shining as he takes your hand and slips a ring—his mother’s ring—onto your finger.

“Well?” he asks softly, raising his eyebrow in question. “Wanna marry me?”

You chuckle, tears pricking your eyes as you look down at your entwined hands then back at him. You swallow thickly, taking a deep breath to quell your nerves.

“One condition,” you whisper, leaning a little closer. “No pick up lines in your vows.”

“No promises, sweetheart,” he chuckles, a teasing glint in his eyes as he leans in for a kiss.

If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖

🌟 Masterlist 🌟 🍵Coffee & Cream Zine🍵

His fingers dig into your hips as you ride him, your mouth falling open in a silent gasp as his cock hits that perfect spot inside you. Your body shakes a little, eyes fluttering closed as the pleasure jolts through your body, the sensations bordering on too much. You’ve been at this for what feels like hours, your thighs burning, mouth dry, skin damp—it almost feels like you’re running a marathon.

The feel of Poe’s thumb circling your clit brings you back to the task at hand. He must be close to breaking if he’s trying to sabotage you like this, knows this is the quickest way to break you. You swallow the moan rises in your throat, willing it to stay buried, at least for now. Your vision is hazy when you open your eyes again, taking in the absolutely wrecked state of the man beneath you. He’s barely hanging on, every inch of him tense as he fights against his baser instincts. He’s doing pretty well, considering, and there’s a part of you that almost feels a little bad for putting him through this. 

Not bad enough to let him win, though. 

You clench around his cock, watching with delight as his eyes roll back slightly, his throat bobbing as he swallows whatever delicious sounds are undoubtedly trying to claw their way to the surface. You do it again, smirking as he exhales sharply through his nose. He meets your gaze, a flicker of a warning in them. 

Eyes locked, you slowly drag one of your hands down his chest, your smirk widening as your thumb brushes one of his nipples. His hips stutter at your touch, the unexpected movement causing you to sink somehow even further down onto him, catching you off guard. You whimper as the tip of him bumps against your cervix, electricity still zinging through your body as the realization somewhat belatedly hits you—

“I win,” Poe pants roughly, an almost maniacal gleam in his eyes. 

Your stomach flips as a smile stretches across his lips, his dark eyes full of even darker promises. Oh Maker, you are in for it now.

Without much warning, he moves, quickly maneuvering you so you’re laid beneath him with your back against the bed. His cock slips from your heat in his haste, and you hate how empty you feel, even if it’s only for a moment. He groans when he sinks back into you, muttering about how you feel like heaven as he pulls his hips back and quickly thrusts back in, knocking the breath from your lungs. 

His eyes meet yours again, silently asking if this is okay, if you’re okay. Panting, you nod, your fingers reaching up to push his damp curls from his eyes. He leans into your touch for a moment, then resumes his movement, pulling back slowly before snapping his hips and thrusting back inside you. He quickly falls into a steady pace, each push of his hips absolutely devastating. He watches you for a moment, his eyes dragging greedily down your body to where you’re joined. 

“So beautiful,” he slurs, moving his hand up to cup one of your breasts, his thumb teasing your pebbled nipple.

You arch and writhe beneath him, completely at his mercy as he maintains his punishing pace. You’re not sure how much more you can take, your body practically shaking now as Poe handles your body as deftly as he does his ship. He can tell you’re close, groaning as you clench and flutter around his length. He leans forward, caging you beneath him with his arms as he fucks you into the bed, his lips claiming yours in a hot, messy kiss. You feel like you're drowning, completely surrounded and unable to catch your breath. Poe breaks the kiss, moaning as you gasp for air, your fingers scrabbling for purchase on his back as he slightly adjusts the angle of his thrusts, grinding his hips against yours as he searches for that spot he knows will finally send you over the edge.

You both know the moment he finds it, that slight brush of his cock setting off a chain reaction of pleasure inside you. Unable to stop them, broken moans escape from between your lips as your body sings, the euphoria of your release rolling through you in waves. Poe follows you into the abyss a moment later, groaning loudly as he spills his warmth into you, his eyes rolling back in his pretty little head; if you weren’t so far gone, you’d probably appreciate the sight.

Your chest is still heaving when he pulls himself off and collapses beside you on the bed, already mourning the loss of him. His hand finds yours as you both lay sprawled atop the bed sheets.

“Okay?” he asks softly, lacing your fingers with his, his thumb rubbing soothingly over the back of your hand as he turns to look at you.

You meet his gaze, your eyes still a little unfocused, and smile, body still tingling from your orgasm. “Better than okay. You?”

He smiles, eyes drooping a little as exhaustion begins to settle over him. He brings your clasped hands to his lips and brushes a kiss against your knuckles.

“Victorious,” he says, a teasing glint in his eyes.

You snort, shaking your head in amusement. “You won the battle, Flyboy, not the war.”

He chuckles, arching an eyebrow as he slowly drags his dark eyes down the length of you. “Well then, I look forward to the next skirmish, sweetheart.”

You bite your lip, heat prickling beneath the surface of your skin. “As do I Commander, as do I.”

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🌟 Masterlist 🌟

Today is especially rough, a combination of the latest recruits not being up to snuff, news of numerous failed missions, and the capture and destruction of, not one, but three Resistance bases in the outer rim territories. Needless to say, morale is low. He tries to stay positive, tries to keep the faith, knows that people are looking to him, but sometimes it’s just so hard, you know? 

He’s slow as he trudges down the corridor toward your shared room, the events of the day weighing him down as he tries to keep his head held high. How much longer can he keep this up? How much longer  can any of them keep this up? This isn’t sustainable, not at the rate they’re losing allies. 

But what else is there to do but keep fighting?

His thoughts weigh heavy on him as he keys in the door code, the familiar snick of the door opening satisfying as he knows what lays behind it—

“Hey, you,” you say, smiling softly at him as you glance up at him from your data pad.

The sight of you is like a balm to his soul.

Without a word, he drops his things to the floor, making a beeline to where you sit comfortably on the couch. You know immediately something’s wrong, your brow furrowing in concern. It makes his heart ache to worry you.

“Bad day?” you ask, taking his hands in yours as he pauses before you.

Your hands are steady and sure, your touch warm and comforting. He wants to tell you everything—and he will—but he can’t, not yet. Instead, he just nods, finally allowing the hopelessness he’s kept at bay all day swallow him whole.

Without another word, you pull him down onto the couch with you, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. He buries his face in your neck with a shaky sigh, his body going limp and heavy against yours. You shush him softly, running your hands soothingly over his back, shoulders, and neck. He melts into you, his arms encircling your waist as you press gentle kisses against the side of his head. You always catch him when he falls. He’s so grateful for that, for you, that he can be like this with you, that he can let his guard down, that he can be vulnerable.

You hold him like that for Maker knows how long, giving him as much time as he needs to collect his thoughts, to work through everything. When he presses a kiss against the side of your neck and shifts so his head is in your lap, you know he’s ready. You gaze down at him with an encouraging smile, your fingers sinking into his soft curls. He sighs contentedly, eyelashes fluttering closed at your touch. He’s quiet so long, you think he’s fallen asleep, but then he speaks, his voice low and soft as he gives you an account of his day. You listen attentively, twirling your fingers around his silken strands. 

He feels lighter by the end of it, a gentle smile on his lips, a small flicker of hope reigniting in his chest. He gazes up at you, capturing one of your hands in his and bringing it to his mouth for a kiss.

“And how was your day?” he asks, lacing your fingers together.

You smile down at him, still playing with his hair, a lightness in your chest that hadn’t been there before he’d walked into the room.

“Better now that you’re here.”

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🌟 Masterlist 🌟