pairing: Poe Dameron x reader (modern au)
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a/n: [18+] this was meant to be the happy calm before the storm and instead it’s the angst before the sadness but I offered happiness and this is what you guys said you wanted so, I hope you enjoy!
He had the music playing so loud, he didn’t hear you come in.
He had needed it up that loud, it was the only way he could work without his thoughts getting in the way. And with a knife in his hand, the last thing he wanted was his thoughts to get in the way.
This meal was supposed to be perfect.
It was the perfect cut of fish, the last one left when he was at the market earlier, and the guy swore it would be perfect. And the fresh cut vegetables he got there too were already in the oven were already smelling so good, they needed to roast just a little longer then they would be perfect. And this sauce?
He stuck his pinky into the pot and licked the red sauce as it covered his skin. The sauce was already perfect.
It would all be perfect and then he would apologize to you and then you wouldn’t leave him…
He hated lying to you and this was going to be his opportunity to fix that. He was going to make you dinner and he was going to fix it.
The meal just needed to be perfect—
“It all smells so good.” You reached your arms around him and he practically jumped out of his skin. “Sorry baby…” you laughed out once he finally relaxed under his touch.
He breathed out heavy but finally met your laughter with his own as he turned in your grip to come face to face with you. “It’s okay… I just didn’t hear you come in.”
“Yeah, cause your music is so damn loud.” You chuckled, pulling away slightly to reach over and press the volume down a few clicks. “What is all of this?”
“It’s dinner.” He forced his smile, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.
“I can see that…” You laughed again but it was beginning to fizzle out on your lips. “What’s the occasion?”
“It’s dinner time?” He quirked his head back.
“Yeah but—” You were cut off by a small attack on your ankles, forcing you to lean away and bend down to pet the ball of fluff you called a dog. “Hey buddy.”
“Yeah but what, babe?” Poe asked, reaching his hand down to brush it back through your hair, still with a bump in it where it had been tied back.
“Yeah but this dog has the cutest face.” You smiled back up at him, giving BB one last rub behind the ears before shooing him away.
He laughed but he couldn’t help but feel like you were going to say something else. He didn’t know what but it gave him an all too familiar drop in his stomach and he was far from a fan of it. He massaged his fingers into your hair some and effortlessly pulled you back up to standing height.
Your smile fell to something much more somber. “What is this Poe?”
“It’s dinner.” He answered quickly, keeping his hand massaging tight in your hair. “I’m not allowed to make dinner for you?”
He turned around, his back to you just like when you walked in, continuing to stir the sauce then backing you away so that he could bend down to check the fish and vegetables in the oven.
“It’s just dinner.” Why the hell was he getting mad, of course it wasn’t just dinner.
It was an apology, it wasn’t dinner. He was the asshole who was lying to you and now he was getting mad at you for no reason and this was exactly the kind of shit you left him for before.
What the hell was he doing?
“Poe…” You said with much more caution this time, reaching out to rub your hands over his back as he began furiously stirring the sauce. “Baby, stop.”
“I just wanted to make dinner—”
“What? I can’t make fucking dinner now—”
“Stop.” Your tone left no room for misinterpretation, eventually making him slow his stirring to a halt. You hated raising your voice and you hadn’t even done it, but it had been close.“I didn’t say that and you know that.”
“When was the last time you cooked like this Poe? It’s a fair question…”
“I like to cook for you.” That wasn’t a lie. He used to do it all the time. But you were right, when was the last time he had?
Was it your last anniversary? How the hell do you even count anniversaries once you break up? Was it your birthday? Whatever it was, it was before the two of you broke up that was for sure. And that was months ago…
“Okay.” You said simply, continuing to rub your hands over his back but eventually he pulled away and stormed off to the bedroom. “Fuck, Poe?”
You shook your head and turned the stove off, then leaned down to check the oven and turned it off as well. Where did he keep the potholders? Digging through drawers until you eventually found some, you pulled the fish and vegetables out. It all really did look and smell delicious. You hadn’t even taken your shoes off.
“Poe?” You called again, but again, no response. Not even the pitter-patter of little feet, “Fuck…” you cursed under your breath and walked back to the door to kick your shoes off and finally strip off your jacket.
You weren’t even hungry anymore.
Taking a few minutes to catch your breath, eventually you retreated back to the bedroom and found him sat with his legs over the side of the bed, his head in his hands.
“Poe, I didn’t mean that, I’m sorry.” You walked in slowly, coming to kneel next to him on the bed. “There’s nothing wrong with you making dinner, I shouldn’t have—”
“I snapped at you, stop apologizing to me—”
“You’re the one who made dinner—” It was his scoff which interrupted you this time. “Poe I’m sorry—”
He shook his head, finally pulling away from his hands enough to turn back to you. He opened his mouth to speak but he couldn’t get anything out. Not a word.
Your hand trailed along his back now and looking at you only made it hurt worse. You were apologizing to him and he set up this whole dinner just to work up the courage to tell you that he hadn’t been to a meeting yet. He came home every Tuesday and every Thursday telling you that was where he was; it was two weeks of lying to your face and you were apologizing for seeing through him.
It wasn’t just dinner, of course you could see that.
But he snapped and now you were apologizing to him. It wasn’t right.
He needed to get better and dragging you through all of this shit again was exactly what he promised he wouldn’t do and here he was.
He needed to tell you and he just couldn’t get there. “Babe, I—”
The words weren’t coming, no matter how hard he tried. He needed to do something else.
So, he kissed you. And it practically saved his life to have you kiss back.
You scooted closer on you knees next to him until you could wrap your hands around his head and properly straddle him.
He wondered if you could feel that every kiss he pressed to you was an apology, the apology he knew he needed to give you, but he just couldn’t wrap his words around. He trailed the kisses down your chin and neck, once you were out of your scrubs, he kissed down your chest, and every other inch of skin his could press his lips to.
“Poe, baby…” You cooed, dragging him by the curls until his mouth was back at equal level with yours, until his eyes had no choice but to meet yours. “I’m sorry…”
He shook his head but you weren’t stopping.
He tried again to stop you but you had other ideas.
Climbing off of him, you lowered yourself to the ground between his legs. “Babe—” His voice caught in his throat the second he felt your hands running up his thighs.
He had no chance at words once he felt your fingers reaching for his zipper. He lifted his hips to help you strip his pants the rest of the way down, but any last semblance of his composure dripped away as you began pressing kisses along his thighs.
There was a length of scar from his knee to his mid-thigh and though he could feel nothing but the pressure and a slight tingle of sensation, he lost it as he watched your lips dip towards it. Burying his hand in your hair wasn’t enough, he needed more, he needed you closer—
Palming him over his briefs, he melted under your touch, as if he had any further left to melt.
“Let me make it up to you, Poe.” You whispered against his scar, moving further and further up.
He didn’t know how to say that he was the one who needed to make it up to you. He didn’t know how to take control and flip you onto the bed in any way that wouldn’t scream out everything he feared to bring to light.
He loved you. He was afraid the second he opened his mouth, that he was going to lose you.
He made dinner, that should have counted for something. Now the food was cooling out on the counter and you were apologizing to him by lowering your lips were he needed you most. He moaned out your name as his grip tightened in your hair, panting out every breath in between.
What was he doing? Why couldn’t he just tell you?
He wasn’t going to the meetings, he wasn’t getting better, if anything, he felt like he was walking the line of getting himself in even deeper if that was even possible.
“Babe…” He had no problem saying that, he had no problem lifting his hips to meet your lips, bouncing his hand with your head as you moved up and down.
You deserved so much better and he was no where close to deserving you.
He came with an echoing moan. This was all wrong, this was supposed to be him apologizing to you.
How did he fuck this up so bad?
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