Cosmic Masterlist | Poe Dameron Masterlist | Main Masterlist
Pairing: Poe Dameron x reader
Summary: Poe needs a haircut. You learn of his plans and efforts to return to his galaxy.
Content/Notes: fluff, star-crossed yearning, angst stemming from nightmares, food
Word Count: 2.2k
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PREVIOUSLY ON COSMIC...
"I haven't had a day like this in years. A day off, to have fun and dance and eat and laugh." He sighed, peering up at the night sky. "I think this is one of the best days I've ever had."
"Really?" You gasped, surprised and touched, honestly.
"Yeah," he nodded, eyes finding yours again. "Really. I think maybe Iowa is a special place."
That made you laugh.
"Or maybe it's because you're here." His arms wrapped all the way around you now, palm pressing along the curve of your back.
You reached up to push a stray curl out of his eyes. "Bet you say that on every planet you land on."
"Maybe, maybe not. But there's definitely only one Trix."
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The day after the fair, you let Poe sleep in while you did your morning chores and took care of the animals. You decided to clean up and do some bills and business inside the house. When you made your way back downstairs, Poe was cooking breakfast. Naturally, Cheddar was circling his legs lovingly. Or annoyingly, depending on one’s point of view.
Poe had made quite the mess already, but he looked up at you and grinned, so proud of himself.
“I’m making cakes. Um…pan-cakes? It’s under the breakfast tab of your favorite cookbook. I can't believe how much actual paper you have in these books. No holopads or anything but real paper. It's incredible. Are pancakes okay?”
Folding your arms over your chest, you couldn’t help but laugh. “There’s flour everywhere. It’s even in your hair." You nodded down at the apron he was wearing. “Guess your clothes will stay clean though.”
“Sorry,” he shrugged. “I tried. I think I burned a few so I opened the back door to air it out. That’s when Cheddar came in. Is that okay?”
“Yeah,” you laughed, scooping up your little barn cat for a quick snuggle.
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After a long day of farm work and supper, you offered to cut Poe's hair.
"Okay, just lean back," you instructed, helping him ease his head back into the kitchen sink as he rested in a chair. You had draped a towel around his shoulders to protect his shirt.
He stared up at the ceiling as you began to spray water through his thick curls.
"Too hot? Too cold?"
"No, it's good." His eyes flickered over to yours, holding your gaze for a moment until you smiled sweetly and continued raking your fingers through his hair, getting it wet.
A low sound of approval rumbled in his chest without him realizing it.
"You okay?" You softly asked, hoping you hadn't pulled his hair too hard.
"Mmm...yeah. That feels good actually." You watched as his throat bobbed, his eyes drifting closed.
"The water?" You innocently questioned, squeezing out a glob of shampoo and working your fingers over his scalp.
"No. Your hands."
"Oh..." Grateful that his eyes were closed and not studying you, you went to work on massaging his scalp, gently raking your nails soothingly all over. "It's good for you to relax for once."
Then he did look at you with a smirk. "Don't start."
"I know, you like to stay busy, I know." Turning the water back on, you began rinsing out the shampoo. "It's just nice to see you taking it easy for a few minutes...letting me take care of you a little bit. You do so much."
His head turned in your grasp, causing your fingers to catch on a tangle. The slight tug made him groan, but he swallowed it down. "Are you serious? Take care of me a little bit?" He sighed, but there was no frustration in it. "Trix, you saved my life. You take care of me all the time, every day."
Your heart flamed in your chest, but you reminded yourself - it wasn't anything to indulge in. You had to let Poe focus on getting home. You couldn't have him for yourself. It was selfish. "You take care of me too, you know," you softly returned, finger-combing his wet hair before lifting the towel from his neck to towel dry it a bit.
He sat up straight in the chair which put him about level with your chest. His eyes traced the smooth column of your throat, noticing how your breaths grew more shallow as his breath brushed your collarbone.
"There," you whispered, kneeling down to his level, the gentle smile returning to your face. "All clean. How much do you want me to cut?"
He blinked at you, distracted, his eyes flickering momentarily down to your mouth. He dragged his gaze back to yours with effort. "Uhm, I don't know. Should you just cut it short, to make it easier?"
"Not too short," you tutted, reaching for a comb and standing back to your full height, if only to get away from his penetrating eyes for a second. "Not with curls like this."
He beamed at that, sitting up a little straighter. "You like curls?"
"I like these." You twirled your finger in the longest one before watching it spring back into place.
"You decide then."
So you did. You took your time, carefully thinning out and shortening Poe's wild mane, loving every second of it. He asked if you'd cut hair before. You admitted you'd only cut your father's hair for years, and your farm hand Chester's a few times. Neither one of them had thick curls.
Poe's eyes would drift closed whenever you would push his hair this way or that, finger comb it into position to trim the next piece. He looked so satisfied like this, reminding you of Cheddar rubbing against your leg.
Maybe he was missing touching someone. Someone back home.
"Who cuts your hair normally?" You asked, checking for extra tags and wrapping things up.
"We have machines that do it, but this is way better." He grinned at you.
"You're not used to someone playing with your hair?" You had meant to tease him, but it came out rather blunt and kind of nosy.
His eyebrows shifted curiously as he watched you bashfully avert your eyes.
"Uh, not in a while really. A long while."
You busied yourself, cleaning up the haircutting supplies, while Poe asked how he could help. He ended up sweeping up his hair off the floor and before long, the two of you sat down to watch TV on the couch.
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All of Poe's nonstop farm work must have finally caught up to him. Either that, or he was so soothed by his haircut, that he fell asleep on your shoulder halfway through the first television program.
You hated to disturb him, and honestly, you relished having him close, at least while he was unaware of it, so you stayed still until the next show came on.
Eventually, your fingers found his dried, fuzzy waves and gently began to twirl through them, faintly scratching at his scalp. He stirred for a moment, nuzzling into your neck before going still again.
This was such a bad idea on your part, but you couldn't help yourself. Making him feel good was like an addictive drug.
Before long, your head rested against his crown of soft brown hair and you found yourself sleeping right along with him.
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You didn't wake up until it was time for chores. Dawn peeked over the horizon as a rooster crowed. You found yourself lying on your couch downstairs, an old quilt made by your great-aunt tucked securely around your body.
Mortified at the thought of falling asleep with Poe and him putting you in this position, you practically leapt up, glancing around for him.
When you didn't see him, you darted upstairs, bypassing his bedroom to freshen up in the restroom and quickly change out of yesterday's clothes.
He wasn't in his room, and he wasn't attempting to make a mess of your kitchen, so he must be outside.
You found him brushing Annabelle, your gentler, blonder, slightly bigger horse. He was talking to her softly and she was eating it up. That sweet girl loved Poe from day one.
"Can't give you too many treats, can I, sweetheart?" You heard him murmur softly. "You're supposed to wait until I'm done brushing, aren't you?"
Then a beat.
"Don't look at me that way, girl. You're gonna get me in trouble with your mom. I'm almost done."
As tempting as it was to linger and listen to Poe flirting with your horse, you stepped into view, clearing your throat.
"See? Busted," Poe said to Annabelle, flashing you a grin. "She's trying to sweet talk me out of extra treats."
You folded your arms over your chest. "Mm-hmm, and how many did you already give her?"
His eyes shifted back and forth between you and the horse guiltily. "Two?"
You walked over and patted Annabelle's nose. "Good work, sweet girl. He's a pushover."
You picked up a second brush and walked past him, toward your chestnut Arzola.
"It's okay, I already brushed her," he informed, stopping you with a hand on your wrist.
Your mouth fell open. "You brushed Arzola. By yourself? She let you?"
He shrugged one shoulder. "Yeah. She loves me."
Reaching out to pet your feisty girl, you chuckled. "He got you too, huh? You girls are hopeless." You turned back to Poe. "Thank you for taking care of them. Did you get any sleep last night?"
Oh he did. One of the most peaceful nights he'd slept in ages. He woke up, half on top of you as you leaned heavily against the arm of the couch, his face pressed against the soft skin of your neck, arms wound around your torso. You were holding him too.
As much as it would have felt good to lay you all the way down and pull you closer, he didn't want to startle you. So he carefully untangled himself, checked the time, freshened up and began seeing to the morning chores as a thank you for his haircut.
"Yeah, I slept for a while. Thought I'd help you out this morning," he finally answered, licking his lips and shaking those thoughts out of his head.
You asked what he'd gotten to so far, and that's when he revealed he'd already taken care of everything except breakfast. You reminded him he didn't have to do all that, especially not as a thank you, but he just smiled and said he loved it.
"You wanna go for a ride, don't you?"
He nodded. "I was hoping you would say that."
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After racing across your fields in the early morning sun, you and Poe decided to make breakfast. It felt good to have a morning where your chores were already done. And sharing a good meal with a handsome man didn't hurt much either.
"I should probably confess something," he said cryptically, swirling his last bite of pancake through syrup. "I haven't actually slept too much lately. That's why I fell asleep on you so early last night. Sorry about that."
You eyed him curiously. "It's okay. Why aren't you sleeping?"
He swallowed down his last bite, considering his words. "Sometimes, I'm out there with my ship, in your old empty building where we stashed it. I've been fixing my droid."
You nodded as he continued.
"I've been working on my ship a little bit too. I need some bigger equipment. Tools and things." He eyed you carefully. "I was wondering if you could help me get some things. Maybe...maybe if someone thought they were for the farm, they wouldn't notice you needing them. I don't want to get you in any trouble."
"I know that," you softly returned.
"Once my droid is up and running, she can help me work on the ship, or at least restore communication."
You swallowed a heavy lump in your throat. "That's good, Poe. It's a good idea. I'm sure I can help you out with the equipment you need. The best Iowa has, anyway."
"Thank you." He reached for your hand and gently squeezed. "I wanted to tell you before there's a droid whizzing around here. Didn't want her to scare you."
You held onto his hand longer than you intended, toying with his fingers tenderly. "Does your droid...talk?"
Poe smiled, his eyes flickering down to your joined hands and then back up to your gaze. "She speaks binary. It's...like a machine language. Sort of. I understand her, but I don't think you will. Unless you speak binary?"
"No," you laughed.
"She'll understand you though, mostly," he went on. "She can probably help around here too." Then he wistfully sighed. "I just hope she can help me figure out how I got here."
Your thumb rubbed the back of his hand soothingly. "I hope that too, Poe, I really do. And I want to help you, if I can. If there's anything I can do."
He wanted to ask for your help. He wanted to sleep as soundly and safely as he'd slept last night, against your body. One of the main reasons he worked on his ship at night was because of the dreams. Vivid, haunting dreams of his friends screaming, dying, in the vastness of space, or their minds pulled apart the way his mind had been violated by the dark side of the Force.
He wondered if you had a tonic to help him sleep more deeply. At least that's what he wondered until you drove his nightmares away last night with your mere presence. It's why he awoke so invigorated and decided to complete the day's chores for you.
If only he could sleep that soundly again, feeling that safe. If only he didn't have to see his friends in torment when he closed his eyes, feeling like he'd abandoned them.
If only he could have met you in his galaxy. But as surely as he felt he must return to his own life, to the war, he was grateful you were not a part of it. Earth seemed, at least for now, the safer option for you.
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Cosmic Masterlist | Poe Dameron Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Join my tag list
Technically speaking they haven't turned a moon old yet but I'm just excited about them and want to share their refs so here they are,, the babs. do u guys have a favorite
Marc Spector masterlist • Moon Knight Masterlist • Main Masterlist
Marc Spector x gn!reader • angst, domestic fluff, food, mentions of Moon-Knight-typical violence, mention of death • wc: 533
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Sometimes Marc seems to forget, somehow, that you love him.
The way he slightly flinches when you rush to hug him as he walks through the front door.
You learned a while ago it isn't withdrawal, rejection.
He's not afraid of you. He just forgets, when he leaves the house, that you'll be that happy to see him when he returns.
Or the way he almost shrugs you off when you kiss his cheek in the kitchen.
He's trying to cook a meal for you. It's one of the only things he can actually do for you. Do right.
And you go and re-wire his brain with a soft kiss on his cheek in between tasks.
His face scrunches up and he shakes his head through a reluctant, half-smiling smirk.
"I'm cooking," he'll mutter, concentrating on chopping while you beam at him adoringly.
When he gets home from a mission and you pull his head down to your chest, in bed.
You rake your fingers through his curls while he listens to your steady heartbeat.
He resists you sometimes. That’s when you know he’s taken a life.
He forgets you can love him then. He forgets you understand, he only takes life to save life.
You reach for him, but he shrugs one shoulder. “‘s okay. I’ll go shower.”
He’ll stand there til the water runs cold and beyond, if you let him. If you don’t step in there with him, wrap your arms around his torso from behind. Or at least turn the water off for him and wrap him up in a big, fluffy towel.
"You're supposed to be sleeping," he mumbles as you towel dry his hair.
"Sleep better with you." Your gentle touch makes him tremble.
Your eyebrows arch, questioning if he needs space.
He whispers your name brokenly, fingertips brushing hesitantly at the hem of your sleeve.
He might as well be throwing his arms around you.
"Bed or couch?" You ask him, tracing your fingertips underneath his palm. You give him time to remove his hand or grasp yours.
"It's 2 A.M." He shakes his head once. You're tired. You shouldn't have to do all this for him.
"Bed...or couch?" You repeat, relieved as he grips your hand. "Or kitchen?" You smile at him, which reminds him how much you love a late night (or early morning) snack.
He works his lips in a straight line of contemplation at first, then a slight pout at himself, for always putting you in these situations. A snack will definitely make up for some of it, and he is the only one who can cook a damn thing.
"Nachos? And a DVD." His eyes go wide and hopeful.
"Something sweet," you counter, inching closer. "And nothing from the 80s."
"Done." He nods. “But you gotta sleep, baby.”
“Done,” you echo.
An hour later, the worst DVD from 1992 plays softly. Desserts plates are stashed messily on the coffee table.
You rest across Marc’s lap, asleep. His fingertips trace up and down the length of your arm.
An ache blooms in his chest.
But not from shame or regret. Not this time.
He just forgets, sometimes, how much you love him.
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Marc Spector masterlist • Moon Knight Masterlist • Main Masterlist
Overall Fic Summary: You are a computer technician and programmer, relatively new to the Resistance. Despite your sunny demeanor, the Resistance is your last hope. Orphaned and homeless, you hide a secret you hope no one will ever discover, because if they did, you would be truly alone, with no place even in a band of rebels.
Pairing: Poe Dameron x female original character. Fic is written in second person, but the female "you" has a name; OC is neurodivergent* (see disclaimer at the bottom of this post)
Overall fic content: Acquaintances to friends to lovers, slow-ish burn, fluff at first, angst later. The fic will get a little darker later, but won't go way off the rails from the tone of the first episode.
Overall fic warnings: ableism, bullying, mentions of death, some violence, though not pervasive throughout, past trauma, some cursing, there will be intimacy, but not explicit.
What Elia (OC) looks like in my mind Picrew
Extra Poe x Elia thots (spoilers)
Lmk if you want to be tagged
dividers by saradika
*I understand that the term "neurodivergent" or "neurodiverse" is incredibly broad, I am leaving it up to each reader to fill in whatever gaps they wish. I am speaking from experience here. In the case of this story, I think you'll see some of the OC's habits/traits pretty quickly: info-dumping, rambling, speaking bluntly, missing social cues, being literal/unable to discern sarcasm, or sometimes unable to tell if someone is joking. Fidgeting, having a slight aversion to touch and certain textures. Extremely intelligent. If this characterization is offensive to anyone, I apologize. I am happy to hear your thoughts on it.
Cosmic Masterlist | Poe Dameron Masterlist | Main Masterlist
Pairing: Poe Dameron x reader
Summary: Quality time and a day at the fall festival with Poe, who doesn't really get the point of a ferris wheel. Oh and your ex is there.
Content/Notes: fluff, tw food, language
Word Count: 3.2k
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"That everything?" Poe asked, securing the final basket in the back of your truck. Heaps of fresh organic produce, homemade jellies, herbs and eggs from your chickens were loaded and ready for your little farm's booth at the fair.
The warmish weather had finally eased into a crisp, cool morning, invigorating your fall spirit and giving you a boost of energy needed to peddle your wares.
Poe, dressed in his boots, jeans and a flannel button up of your dads - a dark green and navy plaid over a white t-shirt - gazed at you expectantly, hands on his hips.
"I think so," you answered, granting him a bright smile. "Thank you so much for doing this. It would have been a lot with Chester away in New Jersey. I've never done it by myself." Your thoughts briefly drifted to your father. This was only your second year without him at the festival.
"Glad I can help," he grinned, pushing a hand through his curls.
Since you'd bought him hair products and toiletries, he'd attempted new styles with gel and hairspray, usually preferring his hair off his face. Today it seemed he didn't bother, remarking how his hair had grown longer than ever, and beyond his control.
You offered to cut it for him soon, after the festival was behind you.
Right then, your cat Cheddar darted out of the barn, with Marigold and Kit Kat hot on his trail. Your three barn cats had added themselves to the long list of animals who instantly loved Poe. Cheddar had almost convinced the both of you that he was truly a house cat who needed to sleep in Poe's room at night, rather than out in the barn with his siblings. Almost.
Curling around Poe's legs adoringly, Cheddar meowed, waiting for attention, which Poe was more than willing to give.
"Heyyyy, little buddy, came to say goodbye? Don't worry, I'll be back."
Kneeling down, he granted some attention to Marigold, while Kit Kat hissed in jealous protest.
"All right, you guys, go back to catching things. We have to go." You playfully rubbed each of their heads before gently shooing them away.
It was then that you noticed Poe eyeing you with about as much fondness as Cheddar had displayed. It caught you off guard for a moment, until he held up the truck's key and dangled it in front of you.
"Can I drive?"
"Give me those," you laughed, yanking them out of his hand and bumping shoulders with him as you headed for the driver's side.
"Come onnn, please," he whined, following you closely.
You reached for the truck's door, but he pushed his arm up against it to stop you, trapping you there against the side of the truck, with his arm caging you in. Noticing how close your bodies were, he lowered his arm slowly, licking his lips as your eyes locked with his.
"Sorry." He backed away to give you some space, noticing how your breath stuttered and your eyelashes fluttered. "I'm the best pilot in our fleet, I swear. I can definitely handle a truck."
"Wow," you whistled, pulling open the truck door finally, but Poe noticed you still had a playful glint in your eye. "You actually insulted my truck while bragging. Well done. Passenger's seat for you."
He groaned, but complied, leaving it alone while you cranked the truck and backed it away from the house. Stopping at the end of your long driveway, you peered over at him.
"I know you can drive my truck. It took you like half a day to get what usually takes us regular people a few months to learn. It's just that you don't have a license and we cannot have any questions asked about who you are and where you're from. You understand, right?"
Poe swallowed, nodding, noting how serious you were. "Sorry. I just thought it would be fun. I didn't realize..."
"It's okay," you smiled warmly. "I just...I get nervous thinking about if someone found out. I mean, Poe, to think of what could happen to you..."
"Is it really that dangerous here? In the United States?" He asked, as you eased onto the main road and started driving.
"It could be. It really could. We are in a kind of war right now. A cold war. No one's firing, but it's tense. And if they find out you're from space, they'll never let you go. We have to keep it a secret no matter what. Let's go over our cover story again."
So you spent the drive into town reviewing the story you'd concocted. Poe had come to work on your farm temporarily, as a replacement for Chester, who was with his ill mom in New Jersey. Simple enough. For now, the story would be that Chester gave a friend of a friend-type recommendation. You would loop Chester in on the plan ASAP, when he wasn't preoccupied with helping his mom.
Poe would be called Joe, which sounded a little more run-of-the-mill Earthy, and would be from Florida. The next step was to somehow get him some convincing documents without drawing attention from the wrong people.
This story should be easy enough to maintain. If someone were to question you about Poe's past, you could simply claim to not know, since you truly met him so recently.
Something heavy settled in your stomach as you drove toward the first public outing with this man who fell to earth.
"Look, I'm sorry about the driving thing," he offered, once you'd double checked your story together. "I know we have to be careful. I promise I won't get you in any trouble."
Glancing over at him, you realized this must all be frightening to him, or at least alarming. "It's okay. You must be bored out of your mind on the farm." Pulling into a parking space in the grassy field outside the fair's entrance, you turned to face him. "You don't have to stay in the booth with me all day. You should ride some rides. They're fast. Probably not as fast as an X-wing, but...could be fun."
"Okay. Only if you ride with me."
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To absolutely no one's surprise, Poe was a perfect addition to your booth. Chester was a great help when he was around, but he was more of a behind the scenes worker.
Poe was a people person, charming customers, introducing himself as Joe, as instructed, and making them feel at ease. With the way he was able to add a dozen farm fresh eggs or a jar of your jelly to each order, you were certain he could probably persuade anyone to do anything.
"You know, maybe I should go ride rides, since you've almost sold all the eggs before lunch," you teased during the briefest lull in customers.
Dark eyes went wide until he realized you were messing with him. "Oh...I thought I was doing it wrong for a second."
"No, please. The sooner we sell out, the sooner we can pack up and the less we have to carry home. Be my guest," you grinned, folding your arms over your chest. "Exactly how many dangerous situations have you charmed your way out of?"
Poe laughed, pushing his fingers through his curls again. "Way too many, Trix. You have no idea."
"Oh shit," you whispered, ducking behind the corner of your booth, frantically waving Poe over to join you.
"What's wrong?" He whispered, conspiratorially huddling with you. "Is it someone from the government?"
Shit, you probably scared him. "No. Sorry, no, it's just my ex."
He gazed into your eyes. "Your ex...boyfriend? Girlfriend?"
"Ex asshole," you failed to clarify, groaning as you realized it was too late. You'd been spotted.
"Heyyyy, it's my favorite organic farmer," your ex boomed, embarrassingly loudly, as he was often prone to do. At one time, you had adored his exuberance and bold personality.
"Hey there," Poe interjected, "what can I help you find today? We have homemade jelly."
Your ex made a sour face at you and hitched his thumb at your new, shorter friend. "Who's this guy?"
"Joe," Poe responded, thrusting his hand between you and your ex for a handshake. "Just started at the farm a few weeks ago, while Chester's away. So what can we get you?"
Ignoring Poe, your ex stared at you, waiting for your attention. Fighting a smile, you returned his rudeness and instead turned to Poe. "I think you've got this covered, so I'm gonna unbox a few more things."
"Take your time. We're good here." Poe sent you off with a wink.
Your heart raced as you darted around the side of your tent, so thankful for the embarrassing situation that didn't just happen. It wasn't that you couldn't take care of yourself, or handle your ex. Hell, you were the one who dumped him. You simply weren't in the mood for his loud mouth and embarrassing antics, especially if he tried to give Poe the third degree for simply existing in the same space as you.
Wondering, for a second, if you felt managed by Poe, or dismissed, you sighed in relief, realizing that his reaction was spot on, and just what you needed. He minimized someone who loved to make everything about himself. He kept the focus on your booth and your products, allowing you to get to tasks that needed your attention.
To be seen and understood so effortlessly felt really good.
Another hour passed before the two of you took a break for lunch, closing your booth for about twenty minutes to sit near the back and munch on some ridiculously fried fair food you insisted Poe try.
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By mid afternoon, you'd sold out of everything except a few greens, but Poe was determined, continuing to sell while you started packing up.
As the sun set, your booth was empty and cleared, leaving the two of you free to enjoy the festivities.
"Thank you so much for today," you sweetly said, bumping shoulders as you walked along rows of various carnival style games. "This is the most successful year I've ever had."
"Happy to help," He smiled over at you, "with getting rid of produce...or ex-boyfriends."
"Oh my god, I'm sorry about that," you chuckled. "I appreciate it though. I was not in the mood to talk to him, believe me."
Poe focused his eyes ahead, enjoying the music drifting through the air, the smell of what you called popcorn and brightly colored balloons. "I thought it would be good practice for getting rid of unwanted attention," he shrugged. Waiting a bit, he added, "He didn't hurt you, did he?"
You let out a long sigh, prompting Poe to say, "sorry."
"No, it's okay," you assured him. "We had some good times. He helped out, you know...when my father got sick. But I found out he was going to propose. And then I found out why he wanted to propose."
Poe groaned, "Don't say he wanted your farm."
"Bingo," you remarked, snapping your fingers and pointing at him. "I mean, really, is this 1881 or 1981? He was after my land?"
"I guess there are worse reasons to marry. But I see your point," Poe conceded. "Was he good to you?" He flinched. "Is that okay to ask?"
"He was until he wasn't," you confessed. "Kind of ruined the whole, benevolent 'help my father' thing when I caught him with another woman."
Poe whistled. "Okay, now I have to kick his ass."
That made you laugh. "He's not worth it. Come on, let's ride the ferris wheel."
Less that ten minutes later, you and Poe sat side-by-side in the bucket seat...of the world's slowest ride, apparently.
"What does this thing do?" he questioned. "It's really slow. And goes in a circle. Is that fun in Iowa?"
You burst out laughing, swatting him on the arm. "It's peaceful and kind of magical because it goes up high and you can see the town." You explained this as your gondola climbed to the ferris wheel's highest point.
Poe nodded, taking a moment to enjoy the highest vantage point he'd seen in weeks, since his ship crashed here. Normally, he was used to being up in the air on a daily basis, so this was nothing too special. Until he glanced over and noticed your eyes shining as you gazed out across the festival and surrounding, rural fields.
Peering over the edge, you remarked how high up you were, bouncing with excitement before looking back at Poe, eyes bright and filled with wonder.
"You're right about the view," he said softly, eyes never leaving your face as the ferris wheel slowly brought you back down to earth.
Next you dragged him to a mini roller coaster, promising it would go at least somewhat faster. Hands gripping the safety rails, you squealed in delight as Poe grinned, enjoying the ride almost as much as he loved riding full speed on your horse Annabelle a week ago.
"I'll take you flying someday. Somehow," he promised. You appreciated the gesture, but your heart burned at the faraway look in his eyes. It sobered you to remember, again, that he needed to find a way to get out of here eventually.
"I'll probably embarrass myself and scream or get sick, but I would love to see you in action."
As soon as the words left your mouth, your face heated up. And he noticed.
Leaning closer his eyes dropped to your lips before he smiled knowingly, nodding behind you. "You want to see me in action, let's go."
Brushing past you, he left you a bit speechless until you realized he intended to play a shooting game. With perfect precision, he used rubber darts and a plastic gun to take aim at, and perfectly eliminate yellow duckies in a row, earning some oohs and ahhs from interested onlookers, and the game's attendant.
"Best shootin' I've seen all day, son. Pick a prize from the top row there." The older gentleman pointed up to the row of ridiculously oversized stuffed animals.
Poe grinned at you. "Which one?"
"You won it," you giggled. "You pick."
He chose a gigantic plush lizard.
"For you." He presented it with a dramatic flare.
"Wowww, this is...this is really something. Thank you." You laughed in spite of the weird but oddly cute offering.
"Well you have lots of animals at home, so I thought you might like something different," he explained as you headed for the cotton candy tent. "Besides, all the animals here are really...hairy." He squeezed the giant lizard. "This guy looks more like my galaxy."
"I love it then," you decided. "What should we call him?"
"Toe Dameron," he teased, a twinkle in his brown eyes. "That way, you'll think of me when you hug him."
For the first time in a while, you enjoyed a good belly laugh. "I don't need a giant lizard named Toe to think about you, but okay."
Poe carried Toe Dameron around while you bought some cotton candy, which intrigued him immensely. He gobbled it up quickly, which let both of you know he was actually hungry. So next up was the pizza stand, of which Poe was definitely a fan, polishing off three slices while you sat at a small table with Toe Dameron on the ground beside you.
"A picture for the lovely couple?" A photographer asked, appearing beside your table, with his camera at the ready.
"Uhh, not a couple, and no, actually, it's okay." You waved him off. Digging into your pocket, you gave him a small tip. "Thanks anyway."
"What was that?" Poe asked through a mouthful of pizza.
"Nothing, he just wanted to take our picture - like the ones in my hall, you know? A photograph?"
Poe nodded, polishing off his meal.
"But, even though I would love to have a picture with you, I just think it could be dangerous. Better to keep a low profile."
"Right, good thinking." Glancing around, the idea that he was an unwelcome guest on planet Earth seemed to sober him. "You're sure it's safe to be here?"
"Yes, it's fine," you assured him.
Hoping to cheer him up, you took him to a very spinny, very fast ride that he loved. But as soon as it ended, you both realized what a terrible idea it was to ride the spinning ride after eating a ton of pizza.
"Ready to go?"
Poe was gazing past you again, as he'd been doing all day, his interest piqued by every different or similar thing to his home galaxy.
This time, his ears perked up at the sound of live music and his eyes gazed at couples dancing on a makeshift dance floor.
"Come on," he urged, taking you by the hand. "Dance with me."
"Oh...okay," you smiled at his exuberance. Poe was so full of life, so interested in every little thing.
Swallowing down any trepidation you felt about making a fool of yourself on the dance floor, you eased into an embrace with him, swaying to a medium tempo song, getting used to the feel of one another.
The song cadenced and the beat kicked off a lively tune, which delighted Poe. He took the lead, guiding you through steps that were probably not of this world, but seemed to make sense. He certainly had a good sense of rhythm and was no stranger to dancing.
You slightly stumbled once, but he steadied you with his palm spread across your back. "Just follow me, I've got you." He smiled brilliantly, giving you a twirl and guiding you around to his opposite side, before somehow doing the same thing in reverse. You weren't sure how he managed it, but it was fun and you found yourself laughing and relaxing all the way through the end of the song.
The music slowed into a couples' dance, so you stepped back to give Poe an out, but he held out his hand. "One more?"
You smiled sweetly at him in spite of yourself, taking his hand as he pulled you close, somehow still keeping time even with the slow tempo.
"Is this okay?" He breathed against your cheek, arm cinching you closer even as he asked permission.
"Yeah...it's okay. You're a good dancer," you breathlessly whispered on his ear. "Which isn't surprising. You're good at everything."
"Thank you," he granted you a sincere reply, which you appreciated. "We danced a lot growing up. Not exactly like this but...anyway."
Easing back, you gazed at him questioningly. "What is it?"
He gently smiled, eyes fixing on yours. "Nothing. I just...I haven't had a day like this in years. A day off, to have fun and dance and eat and laugh." He sighed, peering up at the night sky. "I think this is one of the best days I've ever had."
"Really?" You gasped, surprised and touched, honestly.
"Yeah," he nodded, eyes finding yours again. "Really. I think maybe Iowa is a special place."
That made you laugh.
"Or maybe it's because you're here." His arms wrapped all the way around you now, palm pressing along the curve of your back.
You reached up to push a stray curl out of his eyes. "Bet you say that on every planet you land on."
"Maybe, maybe not. But there's definitely only one Trix."
☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ
thanks to @silvernight-m for the names-that-rhyme-with-Poe exchange and @reallyrallyauthor for pointing out that many animals in Star Wars world are reptilian
☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ
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Summary: Leto is Prince Charming (ofc). Thank you to the lovely anon who requested this because it was so comforting to write!!!! It drove away The Horrors and I thank you!!! (no smut, romance, one kiss, fairy godfather, ~6.3k)
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“It’s a very pretty dress, worthy of a royal ball. I, however, am not worthy of attending one.”
The dress hangs in the air by magic. It's nicer than anything in the crowded attic where you sleep.
You touch the soft silk of the skirt, wincing as your rough skin catches on the fabric.
“Nonsense, poppycock, drivel,” your fairy godfather huffs. “Your stepmother isn’t worthy to lick the back crack of a donkey. You are a beautiful soul, and this dress doesn’t shine half as well as you do. Don’t you want just one night of something more than this? A lifetime, perhaps.”
You don't let yourself think about anything 'more.' Your tendency to dream is weakness, your stepmother says.
She'd made you clean the entire ground floor with scalding hot water, sand, and a bristle brush. She’d said that after the ball, your stepsisters would surely have the prince himself calling on them and the house must be spotless to receive him.
This gown looks fit for a real princess. Prettier than what your stepsisters were wearing when they'd left the house hours ago.
The material is as delicate as angel’s wings, and it moves like magic with just the breeze from your open window.
You can’t wear something so fine.
Tears threaten your lower eyelashes.
Your teeth hurt from how hard you hold your jaw.
The ache in your heart, the one your father had left when he died, blooms once again into a fire that seems to knot your stomach into a tortured lump.
He would’ve loved to have seen you in such a thing. He’d known King Paulus Atreides a little.
Your father had promised when you were of age, he’d present you at the palace.
He’d promised a lot of things, though. Wishing things were different does no good.
You try to make your happiness where you can. In the little animals who've become friends, and the workers who stop by the house.
Even if your muscles ache from the chores and work, up here in the attic, at least you can pretend to be in your own world. You're free to dream.
Your fairy godfather takes your hands and turns them palm-up. They’re dry and cracked, but he waves his star-tipped wand over them and voila! they don’t sting and itch anymore. They’re as soft as the silk of the dress.
You rub your hands together, marveling. The hands of a lady.
“Thank you,” you say.
Your fairy godfather pushes up his glasses and nods. “If I can do that in half a second, imagine how little time it will take me to get you ready for the ball.”
You look wistfully at the dress, then at the door to your attic bedroom.
Your stepmother, or Lady Tremaine as she makes you call her, had pushed you to the ground and locked you in before she and your stepsisters had left.
He wheezes out a laugh. “You don’t think a locked door is a problem for me, do you?”
You can only smile. This magical, ancient being who had said the goodness in your soul had drawn him in and made him want to help you. He said he was on a journey of atonement, and that you were his biggest step forward.
Your fairy godfather is a mystery to you, but a wonderful one.
“Of course you can unlock a door. It’s just that... dreams aren't reality, fairy godfather, and when Lady Tremaine sees me at the ball,” you hesitate, thinking of the way she grabs your wrists too harshly, or how she’ll push you aside in the hallways, “she’ll be enraged.”
He sets aside his wand and gathers you into a warm hug. “Oh my dear girl. Trust me, she’ll look at you with envy, maybe with hate, but she won’t think that her ‘Cinderella’ would be able to wear a dress so gorgeous, or look so beautiful. No, she’s never really seen you here in your own home, and she won’t see you out there either. She’s a blind fool and a common bitch.”
“Anselm!” You pull back from him in shock.
His cheeks go red. You never use his name. It’s an intensely private thing for creatures like him, but the love and trust between you is so strong, he’d felt compelled to tell you. You only use it in the most serious of circumstances.
“My apologies.” He clears his throat, making sure his tie is straight and brushing his hand down his jacket. Not that there’s ever a hair out of place on him. “I didn’t mean to insult dogs by insinuating she’s one of them. Your stepmother is more like the little dried poopy that hangs off of a dog’s butt after it does its business.”
You cover your face with your hands, giggling.
“I hope that’s a ‘yes’ to my little scheme,” your fairy godfather says, his wand already waving in the air. “I’m afraid the magic will only last until the last stroke of midnight, so we’ll have to work quickly. You’ll be late, but you’ll be stunning.”
Lines of pretty sparkles flit this way and that, beautifying not just your personage, but your entire room.
It's the sort of thing you've daydreamed about, and just for tonight, it's all very real.
*****
“If you can’t find a wife tonight, I’m going to have to arrange one for you,” King Paulus Atreides admonishes his son.
“Father, I just got back to the city yesterday,” Leto says. He’s a man of more than 40, but still feels like a boy beneath his father’s gaze.
As much as Leto hates to admit it, his father’s right. Leto’s had a few women catch his eyes over the years, but no one has stuck to his heart.
He’s always found more of a thrill in traveling his father’s lands, meeting with local leaders and commonfolk, and soldiering under his father’s banner if the need arose.
More than that, though, Leto knows that as soon as he marries, his father will abdicate.
Leto feels ready to be king, but his father’s ruled for decades. Even if their people welcome the change, it's precarious at first. It would be helpful not only for his people, but also for Leto himself, to have someone by his side.
King Paulus deserves a quiet old age, and Leto would welcome his father’s counsel in his own first years of rule.
The king’s favorite lesson was always the burden of duty, but Leto knows it would be much easier with someone whom he can trust and love.
Finding that woman seems impossible, though, especially tonight.
All of these women complimenting the medals on Leto’s uniform, or his handsome face, or fancy titles. All they want is to wear a crown.
Perhaps that’s not fair. A fair few of them have also tried to entice him to be alone with them. So, they want a crown and his attention. Leto sighs, cutting the thought off before his impatience shows.
Leto looks to one side of the room. A group of vicious gossips wave flirtatiously. He looks away, but the other side of the room holds a group of women even worse.
“It’s a good thing you’ve a stern face,” King Paulus says under his breath, shifting in the throne. “But my son, please try not to terrify the ladies too much. You look as if you’d rather fight them with a sword than speak to them.”
“Not a bad idea,” Leto says under his breath.
“Get up off your throne and go chat to them. You do love to converse with our subjects.”
Leto gives his father a dry look. “I like to speak to local businessmen and farmers, soldiers and sailors. Not useless nobles wearing too much perfume.”
Paulus almost smiles, but remembers to maintain his stoic, kingly facade.
“You’re the Duke Leto Atreides, Prince Atreides, and heir to the throne of this House,” Paulus reminds his son. “At least try to look like you’re interested in continuing our bloodline. You’ve more prospects here than you have gray in your beard.”
Leto runs a hand over his hair. It’s true, he’s gone quite gray of late. Just like his father before him.
Even his beard, at the corners of his lips, is turning white.
It doesn’t seem deter the women, though.
He has to almost run through the center of the ballroom to keep them from getting their talons into him.
It’s suffocating.
Maybe there are one or two women that Leto could have a decent conversation with, but he wants so much more than that.
The guards have opened the doors at the top of the staircase. It’s all the way on the other end of the huge ballroom, but if Leto can get there, perhaps he can smell the fresh air.
He wants to get away from this stuffy ordeal. He can handle the pressures of his privilege, but enduring this society is torment.
The mirrored walls reflect only people he tires of. The rich food and loud music. False laughter. False smiles.
He wants fresh air more than anything.
As he gets to the base of the stairs, the fresh air greets him; but in the form of the most perfect woman he’s ever laid eyes on.
Leto feels crisp clean air fill his lungs, as if he's standing on a mountain top in the morning. Seeing her is just as thrilling to him.
She shines. It’s like he can see the beauty in her soul, as well as her face. His heart beats strangely, like it wants to burst out of his chest and offer itself.
He rushes forward to meet her. She smiles, not shyly, but unsure perhaps.
He holds out his hand and she lays hers gloved fingers on his. She drops a graceful curtsy.
“Prince Atreides,” she says as she rises.
Her voice is as sweet and clear as a moonlit night.
Leto feels unsteady, an unfamiliar state for him.
He doesn’t let her hand go. Instead he pulls her a few steps forward onto the dance floor. It’s natural for his other hand to find her waist, to dance with her as the music swells.
“We’ve never met,” Leto says with certainty. “If we had, I would never have let you go.”
He swoops her closer to the center of the room, the sea of dancing partners parting for them.
Leto’s hands itch to touch her face. His lips tingle to kiss her.
He’s a man who knows people, and he knows in his heart and soul she feels the same way. Her eyes are like diamonds. Her smile has more power than the sun.
He pulls her closer, wanting the warmth of her body.
With all of his riches and power, nothing has ever felt as good as the way she looks at him. He feels almost dizzy.
The waltz draws to a close and Leto pauses on the dance floor.
“Let me introduce you to my father,” he says, “King Paulus.”
Her eyes widen. The big clock at the top of the castle starts to chime midnight.
One-Two-Three
Leto starts to lead her to the head of the room, where his father is already beckoning them forward.
Her hands slips away.
In a millisecond, Leto realizes his miscalculation.
There was love in her eyes when they danced, but when he mentioned an introduction, her look wasn’t one of surprise or nervousness. It was fear.
Leto turns to reassure her, only to see her running away.
“No,” he whispers, taking off after her.
Four-Five-Six
A few at the ball try to stop him, to ask who she is, or where he’s been hiding her.
All they do is hinder his progress.
Every second, the woman runs further away with his heart. Skirt lifted to run up the stairs, she spares a glance backward.
Their eyes lock.
Seven-Eight-Nine
His are filled with love, pleading for her not to leave.
Her eyes return the love, but the tears in them betray her refusal.
She runs out through the doors. Gone.
Leto, halfway up the stairs, feels his heart break in his chest.
Ten-Eleven-Twelve
He has to compose himself. If not for everyone watching, then for his father. He can’t lose his temper or cry or rage. He has to look down at his fists to get them to unclench.
And there on the grand staircase, he sees one shoe.
It’s hers.
Leto picks up her shoe carefully. It looks new. Delicate and sparkling in his hand, he realizes he doesn’t even know her name.
This is all he has of her.
The size of the shoe, and the unique shape, must be special to her, though. The way she danced, it must have fit her perfectly.
The weight of his father’s hand lands lightly on his shoulder.
“Quite a dance,” King Paulus says.
Leto can’t tear his eyes away from the doors, replaying his last glimpse of her over and over in his head. He wonders what she was afraid of, and how he can fix it.
“I’m going to marry that woman,” Leto says.
“Who was she?”
Leto swallows thickly. “I don’t know yet.”
He holds the shoe in his father’s eyeline. It shines in the light of the ballroom.
Although he hates the thought of it touching anyone’s skin but hers, Leto knows this shoe would only fit the woman he’s just given his heart to. It’s the only way to find her, and if it takes the rest of his life, find her he will.
*****
“You’re my fairy godfather, but you’re not omnipotent. You can’t know that Prince Leto even remembers me,” you say as you hang the household laundry behind the house.
Anselm is sitting under a tree, a few little mice, birds, and squirrels perched like an audience in its branches. They titter and chirp.
He wags his wand at you. “As if either of you could forget. It’s all anyone in the kingdom talks about these days. He’s tearing the entire country apart searching for you.”
“He is not,” you mutter, shaking out your step-mother’s underclothes to hang them. “He’s on a grand tour of the noble estates. That’s what the town crier said.”
Your fairy godfather rolls his eyes. “Delusion. An excuse to traipse around chasing your skirt.”
“A prince doesn't have to chase women. Women go to him,” you say with a frown. “It was one dance, among a thousand he’s had in his life. It was special to me, but not to him.”
At least you'll always have the memory. How Leto's hands held you as you danced. How his attention made you feel like the only person in the world. The warm, musky scent of him, and how safe it made you feel.
The back door slams open and you wince, bracing yourself. Anselm disappears in a wisp of white smoke.
“Cinderella!” Your step-mother stomps out into the yard. Her bony fingers grasp at the still-wet laundry. She rips them down and sends them flying onto the yard. “You’ll have to re-wash all of this. You stupid, stupid girl. We can’t have our clothes out for the prince to see.”
You blink at her, uncomprehending.
Prince Leto is coming here? If what your fairy godfather says is true, then he’s bringing your shoe with him. Your heart beats faster.
“The prince?” you ask.
Her eyes narrow. “The prince is coming to marry one of your stepsisters.”
“Which one?” you ask, your hands shaky as you kneel to gather the laundry back into the basket.
She sniffs. “Who cares? The only concern you have is to make sure the house is presentable in an hour, and then go up to your room and do not come out until I retrieve you.”
Your heart sinks.
“I can tell you have designs on seeing him,” your stepmother sneers. “As if he’d want a poor, ugly thing like you. Although, perhaps I could sell you to the palace. Maybe they need someone to wash the kitchen floors.”
Tears sting your eyes as you pick up the laundry basket. You hurry past her, trying to block her words out of your mind.
She grabs your arm as you walk by, her fingernails pinching into your skin.
“If I see your face at the window, I’ll turn you out into the street,” she spits into your ear before shoving you toward the house. “Make the house ready, Cinderella.”
It’s an easy enough list of chores, one you’ve done a thousand times. Make sure there are fresh flowers, straighten the curtains, put out the tea service.
You do it all by mindless rote.
He’ll be here, at the house, but so far out of your grasp he might as well be on the moon.
It’s just as well, you think as you take off your apron and hang it in the kitchen. Your stepmother is right.
Your dress is no better than rags. You’ve been a servant for years now. You wouldn’t even know how to behave with someone like him. One dance doesn’t change anything.
As you pass through the hallway, you push against the wall, out of your stepsisters’ way as they laugh and talk, walking by you excitedly.
Mostly, they ignore you. They always have.
Your father, before he’d died, had been so excited that you would have sisters. Girls to grow up with. A little older than you, to protect you in society, and one day, your children could all play together.
You’d believed his promise, until you’d met the girls and their mother.
The three of them were so different around your father than they were around you.
The very day he’d died, your stepmother had moved you into the attic. It hadn’t even had a proper bed.
Standing in front of the mirror before the doorway to the stairs up to your room, you take in your appearance. Your face is dirty and drab. You look tired. Sad.
Not at all a princess.
Especially not for a prince as handsome and wise as Prince Leto of House Atreides.
You trudge up the attic steps, hearing the lock click behind you.
You hurl yourself onto your little bed, burying your face in the pillow, wishing it would suffocate you.
The crisp steps of horses on the laneway make you perk up. Yet at the same time, you want to cover your ears with your hands and hold them there until he goes away.
You’re weak though, and tentatively, you get up and peek out your tiny window to the carriage below.
The royal crest is emblazoned proudly on all sides. A footman opens the door and Prince Leto steps out.
He’s in a different uniform from what he wore at the ball. This one is more of a dark green, though it still has medals and cords. He has a streak of white at the top of his head, nestled among the dark curls.
In his hand, he holds a small pillow. On the pillow, a lone shoe that you recognize instantly as the one you’d worn to the ball.
He straightens his shoulders and pushes forward to the door.
Behind him, another man, who looks rough from battle, but wears the regalia of a trusted royal advisor. Perhaps a fellow soldier or friend of Leto’s.
It’s as if the man can feel your gaze because his head turns sharply up to look at you.
You duck down, heart racing.
*****
“I think not,” Leto says, his patience wearing thin as the second of these unbearable women tries to shove her foot into the shoe.
“Oh, it’ll fit. Let me keep trying,” she laughs thinly. “I’ve been looking for this shoe everywhere. I think my foot’s swelled in the heat.”
Leto pulls the shoe back. “Madame, please. This shoe doesn’t fit you.”
The first woman shoves forward past her mother. “Let me try again. I’m sure it will fit this time.”
Leto tucks the shoe safely inside his pocket before their grabby hands can get to it.
“If you had worn this shoe at the ball,” he says politely, “then it wouldn’t be a trial for you to wear it today. I thank you for your time ladies, but I must be going.”
The older woman, whose eyes remind Leto of a witch with ice for a heart, holds out her hand for Leto to take. Reluctantly, he gives it a brief touch.
“It’s midday,” she says, “you must stay for a bit of food and drink. I insist.”
Leto glances at his friend and key advisor, Lord Gurney Halleck. It’s true, they’ve been traveling for days now, to three or four houses a day. They’re exhausted.
“Girls,” the mother barks, “please show the prince what gracious hostesses you can be. Off with you.”
The older woman smiles, but it looks so jagged and misused that Leto’s surprised her face doesn’t split in half.
The younger women run off toward the dining room, squabbling about seating.
Leto hands the empty pillow to the footman. His other hand slides into his pocket to touch the shoe. His heart feels leaden. There aren’t many houses left. The shoe fits no one, and he’s not seen a woman who’s even a shadow to the one he’d danced with.
Gurney consults the book he’s been carrying on the journey. “We can make this our last stop of the day, sire.”
Leto pretends to smile. “Yes, then we’ll take tea here. Thank you for invitation, Lady Tremaine.”
The old woman’s eyes sharpen like knives. “It’s no trouble, Prince Leto. We’re glad to have you.”
“Wait.” Gurney’s word is crisp and confident. His finger taps a line in his book. “There are three young ladies in this house.”
The old woman laughs. It’s as fake as her smile had been. “That’s flattering, but no. There are three ladies in this house. My two daughters and myself.”
She turns to call her daughters back to the room and Gurney gestures subtly to Leto. He looks upward, pointing one finger to the attic.
Leto nods once.
“I did say I wanted to see every lady who resides here,” Leto says, letting his voice carry weight.
“And so you have,” the old woman says.
The sisters laugh.
“Yes, your grace,” one of them says jokingly, “unless you want to see Cinderella. She’s hardly a lady, though. More like one of the fat, lazy mice that runs around the yard.”
They laugh as if it’s the funniest thing they’ve heard in years. Their mother looks at them sharply, her hand snapping out to slap at them.
“Shut up, you foolish girls,” she shouts.
Leto’s jaw twitches at her behavior.
He knows then that his love is here, in this house. Living with these monsters. His feet shift, as if to search for her. The thought of his beautiful angel, his future wife, being subjected to these people is more than Leto can bear.
“When I said you were to present every lady of marriageable age, I meant it.” Leto’s voice is steel and frost. “Did you disobey your prince?”
Lady Tremaine’s posture falters. “No, sire-“
Leto leans in toward her. “And now you lie? You know the punishment for such a thing.”
Gurney steps forward to try and be the voice of reason.
“The late Lord had a daughter with his late wife, did he not?” Gurney asks the women.
The girls fold their arms, avoiding his gaze. Lady Tremaine’s face tightens.
“She’s around somewhere. The girl is wild,” she says. “I can’t keep track of her.”
Instinctively, Leto’s hand rests on the sword at his side, the threat clear. “I’ll ask you politely one more time. If you make me ask again, there will be consequences. Where is she?”
*****
Your face still buried in your pillow, you feel a warm hand on your back and know your fairy godfather is here to comfort you.
You rest your cheek on the downy softness, looking up at him with a sniffle. Your attic room is stuffy and hot on afternoons like this.
He smiles kindly.
“The royal ball feels like a dream, but it wasn’t,” you say.
“It wasn’t,” he agrees.
“The memory alone should be enough for me, but Prince Leto is all I think about, all I dream about.” You chew on your lip a moment, then sit up in bed. “I do love him, fairy godfather. I don’t want him to be only a memory in my life.”
“He is your true love,” your fairy godfather says sagely. “Although, such an important thing can’t be had without a cost.”
“What cost? I have nothing,” you say, looking around the jumble of stored things you share your space with.
It’s cozy enough. Colorful scraps of fabric you’d sewn into little decorations. Dried flowers and bits of ribbon. Nothing of value to a prince, though.
He chuckles quietly, touching his magic wand to your chest. “You have this. Your heart is what he wants, and you have the means to give it to him… if you’re brave enough to do so.”
Your fairy godfather’s wand swipes down to the attic door. It Clicks! open.
Your breath hitches in your throat.
There’s no telling what Lady Tremaine will do. You’ve never disobeyed her like this, always tried to do as she says. You’ve tried to keep yourself safe.
Prince Leto is worth some risk, though. He’s worth everything.
You give Anselm a hug and practically leap off the bed.
“Would you change my dress? I look horrible,” you say, looking at your ragged clothes with regret. “He might not recognize me like this.”
Your fairy godfather taps his wand on his beard. “Hmmmm, I think he’ll see you just fine, my dear. He’ll love you just as you are, trust me.”
It's somehow fitting for the prince to see you like this. He should know what you really are. Although, if he loves you, then perhaps you're not as lowly as you've been told.
Nervously, you descend the stairs and creep out of your room.
Even up here, you can hear one of your stepsisters making some excuse about the shoe not fitting.
You hear an unfamiliar man speak. Then, Prince Leto raises his voice, but you can’t make out what he’s saying.
You tip-toe down to the main floor.
The air in the sitting room is tense as you peek around the corner. Your stepsisters cower behind their mother, but Lady Tremaine doesn’t look so formidable in this moment.
At first, you only see Prince Leto’s handsome profile. His nose and his beard, the curl of hair away from his forehead. Then, his head turns.
His dark brown eyes meet yours and there’s a flash of joy. His smile doesn’t waiver, even when he looks you over and sees the state of you, so different from when you’d met.
Prince Leto remembers his manners before anyone else and he gives you a polite bow of his head. His hand drops from his sword. “Good afternoon, my lady.”
You have to bite back happy tears. “Good afternoon, your grace.”
“You look lovely,” he says.
“You look- um, lovely also.”
Prince Leto laughs quietly and you join him.
Another man steps forward, the one who’d seen you looking through your attic window. “I’m Lord Halleck, my lady, aide and advisor to Prince Leto. Please, sit. Let’s put your shoe back where it belongs.”
Lady Tremaine storms in between you and the chair. “Absolutely not. That girl is worthless. Look at her. She’s not a lady, not like my daughters. Your grace, have some self respect.”
Leto’s nostrils flare with anger. In the blink of an eye the softness in him disappears and he stands straight and formidable, commanding respect. It’s thrilling to behold.
“Your late husband knew my father,” Prince Leto says, “and therefore, I knew him a bit. I know that he must have loved his daughter very much because he bought her a horse from our very own stable, and a puppy, and made sure to bring her treats that would please her. I find it very difficult to believe a loving father would leave his daughter destitute.”
Lady Tremaine tries to sound strong, but even you can hear the desperation in her voice. “My late husband didn’t leave a will. In such cases, everything is given to the wife. To me.”
Prince Leto glances at Lord Halleck. “Gurney, when we return to the palace, remind me to check with Lord Hawat to see if, perhaps, the late lord left his will in our possession. It’s common enough for nobles to do.”
You watch the color drain from Lady Tremaine’s face.
“No, there was nothing in his papers. He kept them in his desk,” she says weakly.
“Nobles often consult with my father or his council on such things, and usually, a copy is retained in the royal records,” Leto informs her.
You watch the exchange with trepidation, even when Lord Halleck helps you to sit.
It’s all more than you can absorb. Is it possible your father hadn’t forgotten you after all? That your stepmother had lied for years, to cover her own greed?
Smoothly, Leto turns and kneels deftly in front of you. Your stepmother and stepsisters gasp.
His brown eyes look up at you seriously.
He takes your hands. “You think people as good and honest as you are, but that woman has made your life miserable. When we’re married, her fate is yours.”
You glance at Lady Tremaine, who’s looking steadfastly at the wall, avoiding eye contact with anyone.
“Prince Leto,” you say softly, “let her alone, please. If we are as happy as I hope we’ll be, then she’ll be nothing to us. How she lives wouldn’t bother me.”
Leto’s eyes shine with the love you’d seen at the ball.
“You’re as kind as you are beautiful. Yet, if you would permit me to act with justice,” he says, his bearing regal and clearly not used to asking permission for things.
Although you’ve heard stories of how fiercely his justice can extend, you know he wouldn’t do anything to distress you too badly.
A prince, on bended knee, asking permission from you of all people. It’s beyond imagination; but love does unbelievable things, you suppose.
“Yes, Prince Leto,” you say.
“Then, she and your stepsisters may keep the house and lands, but they’ll be stripped of their titles. They’re not welcome at any noble court. By royal decree, they’ll not be related to you at all. Your family’s history will record your father and mother and you.”
It’s fair, but harsh to your ears.
Justice dispensed, Prince Leto takes the shoe from his pocket, holding it in one hand.
“I would like now, to put your sorrows behind us. Only wonderful things are in your future. I promise. May I?” he asks.
He’s more handsome than you’d thought a man could be. His eyes crinkle at the corners with his smile. His teeth and nose and cheekbones are fascinating to you. You want to spend a lifetime studying his face. You realize that you can do just that. All you have to do is say yes.
You lift the tattered hem of your dress just enough to slip off your worn, old work shoes. Leto holds your foot reverently, sliding the beautiful shoe on.
It fits perfectly, as you’d both known it would.
You and Leto exhale in sync, smiles touching your lips.
His hand cradles your foot and ankle.
“Will you marry me?” he asks.
“Yes,” you answer, “of course I will.”
*****
You hadn’t thought anyone had as much gravitas or seriousness as Leto, until you meet King Paulus.
You worried that such a great man would forbid his only heir from marrying you. Yes, your father was noble and an acquaintance, but you’re not anywhere near Leto’s rank.
Instead, King Paulus is welcoming. Glad that his son will finally marry.
The wedding preparations are overwhelming, but Leto makes it very clear that no matter how big the wedding or how many people, it’s a day for you and him alone.
King Paulus assigns you a helpful attendant. She’s from a far-off land, with a strange name, Mapes, but she’s very loyal and best of all, practical. She’s like a mother lioness, keeping people from bothering you too much, making sure you eat, helping you pick out new clothes.
She also ensures you and Leto have plenty of time to sit together and know each other more. He shows you the garden and library. The laboratory full of inventions. The armory and blacksmith. The kitchen, the tailors, on and on and on, until you’ve met more people in a few days than you have in your whole life.
Your favorite times are, of course, when you and Leto talk about everything and nothing. Sometimes for hours.
Mapes sits just outside of earshot, but it’s obvious she’s acting as chaperone until the wedding.
You’ve been so busy, you’ve hardly had a moment to yourself. One night though, you sneak out into the garden alone.
Mapes’ ears and eyes are as keen as a freshly honed blade, but there’s a shimmer in the air that you’d recognize anywhere. Your fairy godfather.
The garden behind the royal palace is a wash of deep greens and bright flowers. The pathway is cool under your bare feet, but the air is warm enough that your silk nightgown keeps you comfortable.
The moon lights the way through the dark night. Little bright green fireflies line the path through to where Anselm slouches in the gazebo, huffing on a pipe. You’ve never seen him with anything but his fairy wand in hand.
“Fairy godfather, I’m so glad to see you, but what are you doing?” you ask with a grin.
He smiles happily. “Well, you see, I wasn’t exactly honest with you all along. Fairies are a strict lot, and I’d run somewhat afoul of my people. I have a habit of making trouble.”
“That, I can believe,” you say as you sit next to him.
“Well, I was given the task of helping human kind. It was meant as punishment, but my dear, you made it a joy,” Anselm smiles, patting your shoulder. “My lesson is learned, and I’m back to all of my normal powers.”
“Are they so different?” you ask, waving your hand in front of your face to blow the smoke away.
“I have less restrictions,” he says. “For example, I could kill your stepmother.”
You gasp. “Fairy godfather, no!”
He grumbles to himself. “Yes, I suppose it doesn’t really fit with your story. If you change your mind, though, just call out my true name and I’ll be there in a flash.”
You look around the palace grounds. Even shrouded in moonlight, they look lush and perfect. Then, you look down at the beautiful ring Leto had placed on your finger. It marks your betrothal, and his love for you.
“I don’t think I’ll ever want for anything again,” you tell Anselm, “but maybe you could visit sometimes? If you would like to.”
His eyes soften. “Very much so. Definitely. I cannot wait to see your progress in life. The handsome prince and the fair princess.”
He gets up and straightens his jacket, pipe disappearing magically into nothingness.
“I’ll visit whenever I need a break from torturing that horrible old woman and her daughters,” he says.
“Anselm!”
But he’s gone in a puff of smoke.
You laugh quietly to yourself. You can only imagine the trouble he’ll make for them. Nothing too dangerous, you hope, but whenever bad luck befalls them, you know Anselm will be to blame.
You’re still laughing when you hear a rustle.
“What are you doing, laughing out here all alone?” Leto asks as he walks into the secluded gazebo.
Your eyes linger over him. You’ve never seen him out of uniform.
He’s in his sleeping clothes. The top few buttons of his shirt are undone and you can’t look away.
His dark hair and eyes are meant to be seen like this, you think, in gauzy moonlight and night. Even his skin looks different to you.
Leto, though, is only concerned with you. You can tell from the frown on his forehead.
“You have bare feet and no coat. Here.” Leto quickly sits by you and wraps his arms around you. He kisses the side of your head. “Now, tell me why you’re in the garden in the middle of the night.”
It’s on the tip of your tongue to tell him everything. Maybe one day, you will.
For now, you only say, “I’m having trouble sleeping. I think it’s because I have nothing left to dream about. All of my dreams came true.”
Leto tips your face closer to his.
This is the first time you’ve been without a chaperone.
Leto’s kiss is soft at first. The hair of his beard and mustache is scratchy, but good. His lips are like warm pillows. The tip of his tongue traces your mouth lightly. Then, he deepens the kiss, parting your lips with his and sinking in. He hums in his throat, his big hands pulling you closer.
“My princess,” he whispers, kissing you again and again, “my love.”
The fireflies gather in the gazebo, like stars suspended in the air. They don’t mind that you and Leto kiss and touch.
The clock in the palace starts to chime midnight.
This time, you don’t run.
Leto gives you a kiss for every hour. Twelve. And many more after that.
Enough for a lifetime of happily ever after.
Leto Atreides Masterlist :: main masterlist :: Join My Fic Taglist
Cosmic Masterlist | Poe Dameron Masterlist | Main Masterlist
Pairing: Poe Dameron x reader
Summary: Quality time and a day at the fall festival with Poe, who doesn't really get the point of a ferris wheel. Oh and your ex is there.
Content/Notes: fluff, tw food, language
Word Count: 3.2k
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"That everything?" Poe asked, securing the final basket in the back of your truck. Heaps of fresh organic produce, homemade jellies, herbs and eggs from your chickens were loaded and ready for your little farm's booth at the fair.
The warmish weather had finally eased into a crisp, cool morning, invigorating your fall spirit and giving you a boost of energy needed to peddle your wares.
Poe, dressed in his boots, jeans and a flannel button up of your dads - a dark green and navy plaid over a white t-shirt - gazed at you expectantly, hands on his hips.
"I think so," you answered, granting him a bright smile. "Thank you so much for doing this. It would have been a lot with Chester away in New Jersey. I've never done it by myself." Your thoughts briefly drifted to your father. This was only your second year without him at the festival.
"Glad I can help," he grinned, pushing a hand through his curls.
Since you'd bought him hair products and toiletries, he'd attempted new styles with gel and hairspray, usually preferring his hair off his face. Today it seemed he didn't bother, remarking how his hair had grown longer than ever, and beyond his control.
You offered to cut it for him soon, after the festival was behind you.
Right then, your cat Cheddar darted out of the barn, with Marigold and Kit Kat hot on his trail. Your three barn cats had added themselves to the long list of animals who instantly loved Poe. Cheddar had almost convinced the both of you that he was truly a house cat who needed to sleep in Poe's room at night, rather than out in the barn with his siblings. Almost.
Curling around Poe's legs adoringly, Cheddar meowed, waiting for attention, which Poe was more than willing to give.
"Heyyyy, little buddy, came to say goodbye? Don't worry, I'll be back."
Kneeling down, he granted some attention to Marigold, while Kit Kat hissed in jealous protest.
"All right, you guys, go back to catching things. We have to go." You playfully rubbed each of their heads before gently shooing them away.
It was then that you noticed Poe eyeing you with about as much fondness as Cheddar had displayed. It caught you off guard for a moment, until he held up the truck's key and dangled it in front of you.
"Can I drive?"
"Give me those," you laughed, yanking them out of his hand and bumping shoulders with him as you headed for the driver's side.
"Come onnn, please," he whined, following you closely.
You reached for the truck's door, but he pushed his arm up against it to stop you, trapping you there against the side of the truck, with his arm caging you in. Noticing how close your bodies were, he lowered his arm slowly, licking his lips as your eyes locked with his.
"Sorry." He backed away to give you some space, noticing how your breath stuttered and your eyelashes fluttered. "I'm the best pilot in our fleet, I swear. I can definitely handle a truck."
"Wow," you whistled, pulling open the truck door finally, but Poe noticed you still had a playful glint in your eye. "You actually insulted my truck while bragging. Well done. Passenger's seat for you."
He groaned, but complied, leaving it alone while you cranked the truck and backed it away from the house. Stopping at the end of your long driveway, you peered over at him.
"I know you can drive my truck. It took you like half a day to get what usually takes us regular people a few months to learn. It's just that you don't have a license and we cannot have any questions asked about who you are and where you're from. You understand, right?"
Poe swallowed, nodding, noting how serious you were. "Sorry. I just thought it would be fun. I didn't realize..."
"It's okay," you smiled warmly. "I just...I get nervous thinking about if someone found out. I mean, Poe, to think of what could happen to you..."
"Is it really that dangerous here? In the United States?" He asked, as you eased onto the main road and started driving.
"It could be. It really could. We are in a kind of war right now. A cold war. No one's firing, but it's tense. And if they find out you're from space, they'll never let you go. We have to keep it a secret no matter what. Let's go over our cover story again."
So you spent the drive into town reviewing the story you'd concocted. Poe had come to work on your farm temporarily, as a replacement for Chester, who was with his ill mom in New Jersey. Simple enough. For now, the story would be that Chester gave a friend of a friend-type recommendation. You would loop Chester in on the plan ASAP, when he wasn't preoccupied with helping his mom.
Poe would be called Joe, which sounded a little more run-of-the-mill Earthy, and would be from Florida. The next step was to somehow get him some convincing documents without drawing attention from the wrong people.
This story should be easy enough to maintain. If someone were to question you about Poe's past, you could simply claim to not know, since you truly met him so recently.
Something heavy settled in your stomach as you drove toward the first public outing with this man who fell to earth.
"Look, I'm sorry about the driving thing," he offered, once you'd double checked your story together. "I know we have to be careful. I promise I won't get you in any trouble."
Glancing over at him, you realized this must all be frightening to him, or at least alarming. "It's okay. You must be bored out of your mind on the farm." Pulling into a parking space in the grassy field outside the fair's entrance, you turned to face him. "You don't have to stay in the booth with me all day. You should ride some rides. They're fast. Probably not as fast as an X-wing, but...could be fun."
"Okay. Only if you ride with me."
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To absolutely no one's surprise, Poe was a perfect addition to your booth. Chester was a great help when he was around, but he was more of a behind the scenes worker.
Poe was a people person, charming customers, introducing himself as Joe, as instructed, and making them feel at ease. With the way he was able to add a dozen farm fresh eggs or a jar of your jelly to each order, you were certain he could probably persuade anyone to do anything.
"You know, maybe I should go ride rides, since you've almost sold all the eggs before lunch," you teased during the briefest lull in customers.
Dark eyes went wide until he realized you were messing with him. "Oh...I thought I was doing it wrong for a second."
"No, please. The sooner we sell out, the sooner we can pack up and the less we have to carry home. Be my guest," you grinned, folding your arms over your chest. "Exactly how many dangerous situations have you charmed your way out of?"
Poe laughed, pushing his fingers through his curls again. "Way too many, Trix. You have no idea."
"Oh shit," you whispered, ducking behind the corner of your booth, frantically waving Poe over to join you.
"What's wrong?" He whispered, conspiratorially huddling with you. "Is it someone from the government?"
Shit, you probably scared him. "No. Sorry, no, it's just my ex."
He gazed into your eyes. "Your ex...boyfriend? Girlfriend?"
"Ex asshole," you failed to clarify, groaning as you realized it was too late. You'd been spotted.
"Heyyyy, it's my favorite organic farmer," your ex boomed, embarrassingly loudly, as he was often prone to do. At one time, you had adored his exuberance and bold personality.
"Hey there," Poe interjected, "what can I help you find today? We have homemade jelly."
Your ex made a sour face at you and hitched his thumb at your new, shorter friend. "Who's this guy?"
"Joe," Poe responded, thrusting his hand between you and your ex for a handshake. "Just started at the farm a few weeks ago, while Chester's away. So what can we get you?"
Ignoring Poe, your ex stared at you, waiting for your attention. Fighting a smile, you returned his rudeness and instead turned to Poe. "I think you've got this covered, so I'm gonna unbox a few more things."
"Take your time. We're good here." Poe sent you off with a wink.
Your heart raced as you darted around the side of your tent, so thankful for the embarrassing situation that didn't just happen. It wasn't that you couldn't take care of yourself, or handle your ex. Hell, you were the one who dumped him. You simply weren't in the mood for his loud mouth and embarrassing antics, especially if he tried to give Poe the third degree for simply existing in the same space as you.
Wondering, for a second, if you felt managed by Poe, or dismissed, you sighed in relief, realizing that his reaction was spot on, and just what you needed. He minimized someone who loved to make everything about himself. He kept the focus on your booth and your products, allowing you to get to tasks that needed your attention.
To be seen and understood so effortlessly felt really good.
Another hour passed before the two of you took a break for lunch, closing your booth for about twenty minutes to sit near the back and munch on some ridiculously fried fair food you insisted Poe try.
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By mid afternoon, you'd sold out of everything except a few greens, but Poe was determined, continuing to sell while you started packing up.
As the sun set, your booth was empty and cleared, leaving the two of you free to enjoy the festivities.
"Thank you so much for today," you sweetly said, bumping shoulders as you walked along rows of various carnival style games. "This is the most successful year I've ever had."
"Happy to help," He smiled over at you, "with getting rid of produce...or ex-boyfriends."
"Oh my god, I'm sorry about that," you chuckled. "I appreciate it though. I was not in the mood to talk to him, believe me."
Poe focused his eyes ahead, enjoying the music drifting through the air, the smell of what you called popcorn and brightly colored balloons. "I thought it would be good practice for getting rid of unwanted attention," he shrugged. Waiting a bit, he added, "He didn't hurt you, did he?"
You let out a long sigh, prompting Poe to say, "sorry."
"No, it's okay," you assured him. "We had some good times. He helped out, you know...when my father got sick. But I found out he was going to propose. And then I found out why he wanted to propose."
Poe groaned, "Don't say he wanted your farm."
"Bingo," you remarked, snapping your fingers and pointing at him. "I mean, really, is this 1881 or 1981? He was after my land?"
"I guess there are worse reasons to marry. But I see your point," Poe conceded. "Was he good to you?" He flinched. "Is that okay to ask?"
"He was until he wasn't," you confessed. "Kind of ruined the whole, benevolent 'help my father' thing when I caught him with another woman."
Poe whistled. "Okay, now I have to kick his ass."
That made you laugh. "He's not worth it. Come on, let's ride the ferris wheel."
Less that ten minutes later, you and Poe sat side-by-side in the bucket seat...of the world's slowest ride, apparently.
"What does this thing do?" he questioned. "It's really slow. And goes in a circle. Is that fun in Iowa?"
You burst out laughing, swatting him on the arm. "It's peaceful and kind of magical because it goes up high and you can see the town." You explained this as your gondola climbed to the ferris wheel's highest point.
Poe nodded, taking a moment to enjoy the highest vantage point he'd seen in weeks, since his ship crashed here. Normally, he was used to being up in the air on a daily basis, so this was nothing too special. Until he glanced over and noticed your eyes shining as you gazed out across the festival and surrounding, rural fields.
Peering over the edge, you remarked how high up you were, bouncing with excitement before looking back at Poe, eyes bright and filled with wonder.
"You're right about the view," he said softly, eyes never leaving your face as the ferris wheel slowly brought you back down to earth.
Next you dragged him to a mini roller coaster, promising it would go at least somewhat faster. Hands gripping the safety rails, you squealed in delight as Poe grinned, enjoying the ride almost as much as he loved riding full speed on your horse Annabelle a week ago.
"I'll take you flying someday. Somehow," he promised. You appreciated the gesture, but your heart burned at the faraway look in his eyes. It sobered you to remember, again, that he needed to find a way to get out of here eventually.
"I'll probably embarrass myself and scream or get sick, but I would love to see you in action."
As soon as the words left your mouth, your face heated up. And he noticed.
Leaning closer his eyes dropped to your lips before he smiled knowingly, nodding behind you. "You want to see me in action, let's go."
Brushing past you, he left you a bit speechless until you realized he intended to play a shooting game. With perfect precision, he used rubber darts and a plastic gun to take aim at, and perfectly eliminate yellow duckies in a row, earning some oohs and ahhs from interested onlookers, and the game's attendant.
"Best shootin' I've seen all day, son. Pick a prize from the top row there." The older gentleman pointed up to the row of ridiculously oversized stuffed animals.
Poe grinned at you. "Which one?"
"You won it," you giggled. "You pick."
He chose a gigantic plush lizard.
"For you." He presented it with a dramatic flare.
"Wowww, this is...this is really something. Thank you." You laughed in spite of the weird but oddly cute offering.
"Well you have lots of animals at home, so I thought you might like something different," he explained as you headed for the cotton candy tent. "Besides, all the animals here are really...hairy." He squeezed the giant lizard. "This guy looks more like my galaxy."
"I love it then," you decided. "What should we call him?"
"Toe Dameron," he teased, a twinkle in his brown eyes. "That way, you'll think of me when you hug him."
For the first time in a while, you enjoyed a good belly laugh. "I don't need a giant lizard named Toe to think about you, but okay."
Poe carried Toe Dameron around while you bought some cotton candy, which intrigued him immensely. He gobbled it up quickly, which let both of you know he was actually hungry. So next up was the pizza stand, of which Poe was definitely a fan, polishing off three slices while you sat at a small table with Toe Dameron on the ground beside you.
"A picture for the lovely couple?" A photographer asked, appearing beside your table, with his camera at the ready.
"Uhh, not a couple, and no, actually, it's okay." You waved him off. Digging into your pocket, you gave him a small tip. "Thanks anyway."
"What was that?" Poe asked through a mouthful of pizza.
"Nothing, he just wanted to take our picture - like the ones in my hall, you know? A photograph?"
Poe nodded, polishing off his meal.
"But, even though I would love to have a picture with you, I just think it could be dangerous. Better to keep a low profile."
"Right, good thinking." Glancing around, the idea that he was an unwelcome guest on planet Earth seemed to sober him. "You're sure it's safe to be here?"
"Yes, it's fine," you assured him.
Hoping to cheer him up, you took him to a very spinny, very fast ride that he loved. But as soon as it ended, you both realized what a terrible idea it was to ride the spinning ride after eating a ton of pizza.
"Ready to go?"
Poe was gazing past you again, as he'd been doing all day, his interest piqued by every different or similar thing to his home galaxy.
This time, his ears perked up at the sound of live music and his eyes gazed at couples dancing on a makeshift dance floor.
"Come on," he urged, taking you by the hand. "Dance with me."
"Oh...okay," you smiled at his exuberance. Poe was so full of life, so interested in every little thing.
Swallowing down any trepidation you felt about making a fool of yourself on the dance floor, you eased into an embrace with him, swaying to a medium tempo song, getting used to the feel of one another.
The song cadenced and the beat kicked off a lively tune, which delighted Poe. He took the lead, guiding you through steps that were probably not of this world, but seemed to make sense. He certainly had a good sense of rhythm and was no stranger to dancing.
You slightly stumbled once, but he steadied you with his palm spread across your back. "Just follow me, I've got you." He smiled brilliantly, giving you a twirl and guiding you around to his opposite side, before somehow doing the same thing in reverse. You weren't sure how he managed it, but it was fun and you found yourself laughing and relaxing all the way through the end of the song.
The music slowed into a couples' dance, so you stepped back to give Poe an out, but he held out his hand. "One more?"
You smiled sweetly at him in spite of yourself, taking his hand as he pulled you close, somehow still keeping time even with the slow tempo.
"Is this okay?" He breathed against your cheek, arm cinching you closer even as he asked permission.
"Yeah...it's okay. You're a good dancer," you breathlessly whispered on his ear. "Which isn't surprising. You're good at everything."
"Thank you," he granted you a sincere reply, which you appreciated. "We danced a lot growing up. Not exactly like this but...anyway."
Easing back, you gazed at him questioningly. "What is it?"
He gently smiled, eyes fixing on yours. "Nothing. I just...I haven't had a day like this in years. A day off, to have fun and dance and eat and laugh." He sighed, peering up at the night sky. "I think this is one of the best days I've ever had."
"Really?" You gasped, surprised and touched, honestly.
"Yeah," he nodded, eyes finding yours again. "Really. I think maybe Iowa is a special place."
That made you laugh.
"Or maybe it's because you're here." His arms wrapped all the way around you now, palm pressing along the curve of your back.
You reached up to push a stray curl out of his eyes. "Bet you say that on every planet you land on."
"Maybe, maybe not. But there's definitely only one Trix."
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thanks to @silvernight-m for the names-that-rhyme-with-Poe exchange and @reallyrallyauthor for pointing out that many animals in Star Wars world are reptilian
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Poe Dameron + first kiss - technically this is a requested Fall Fluff Ficlet for @steven-grants-world. I am so sorry it is years late and out of season!
Fall Fluff Masterlist | Poe Masterlist | Main Masterlist
notes: Poe thought you were dead. You're not. | gn!reader | wc: 3.3k
𓈒 ͜ ︵ ݂ ׁ✧𓈒 ͜ ︵ ݂ ׁ✧𓈒 ͜ ︵ ݂ ׁ✧
A warm rush of air swept through the cantina as you wiped down the tables, preparing to close. You heard the swinging door, rolling your eyes to yourself and trying to muster some courtesy for whoever was barging in after closing time.
"Sorry, we're closed," you managed neutrally, avoiding allowing your voice to drip with disdain or condescension. Better to not stir up trouble.
"I know," a man's voice replied, "that's why I'm here."
It only took one sentence to change your entire life.
"I need to talk to your boss."
And another to make you believe hope was still alive.
"Poe?" You blurted, without thinking. You hadn't seen him in so long. Not since your ship crashed here, leaving you stranded two years ago, before the war even ended.
"Who's asking?" He fired back, eyes shifting this way and that, hand resting warily on his blaster. A new sprinkling of gray lined his temples and rough stubble covered his chiseled jaw. Handsome as ever.
He didn't recognize you. Did he forget you? Or was your disguise that good?
You'd hid and tucked parts of you away, keeping just dirty enough to avoid getting fired over complaints about how you smelled. Kept the creeps away, for the most part. You drifted around invisibly, did your work and slept in an absolute dump, to save every possible credit to buy your way out of this hell hole one day. You should have enough to leave in another year, if your master would let you go, and if the price of basic flour for bread making kept from creeping higher each quarter.
You swallowed thickly, wondering how to proceed. "Boss is gone for the night. We're closing up."
"Where is he?" Poe demanded, glaring at you. "I need a location."
If this was anyone else, you absolutely would not tell them. You'd rather take your chances with a stranger than incur the wrath of your boss. But this was Poe. He wouldn't hurt you.
Tossing your sponge aside, you crossed right in front of him to the main entrance. "Let me lock up and I'll show you."
"So you can walk me into a trap? No thanks."
"Do you want to find him or not?" You huffed, pushing your way past him and barreling through the kitchen to the back door, hoping Poe would follow.
He did.
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You informed him of the short walk to the hovel you called home, insisting you needed to make only a momentary stop to help find your boss.
Poe lingered three or so steps behind you, hand gripping the hilt of his blaster. His stare bore into the back of your head, nearly wilting you with each step. Even three paces away, even that was too close. You could smell him - all mechanical oil and leather and something like the moss of his homeworld. Had he returned to Yavin IV after the war?
Your eyes drifted closed at the sound of his breaths, huffed rhythmically in and out with the thump of his boots.
Could he ever remember you?
"It's just here," you breathlessly uttered, punching in the code to your door which whooshed open. "I'll only be a few moments. You're welcome to wait inside."
"I'll wait here, thanks," he cautiously responded, but after considering that you could be contacting your boss or calling for reinforcements, he followed you inside anyway.
You whirled around to close the door behind you, placing your body square in his path. He bumped into you, abandoning his defensive posture and reaching for your elbows to steady you from falling.
"I'm sorry -" you both uttered. You quickly withdrew due to the unclean smell of your body, your heart thundering in your chest after the brief touch of gloved hands on your skin.
"Please sit, I'll be quick," you called over your shoulder, grabbing a few items of clothing before disappearing into a tiny, grimy refresher room. As rapidly as you could manage, you shed your clothes and hat and washed yourself, making as little noise as possible.
You scrubbed the dirt from your cheeks and returned your hidden hair to its normal style before dressing in clean clothes that felt more decidedly you.
"What are you doing in there?" You heard Poe call, impatiently. "You contacting someone? I don't have time for this."
You quickly emerged back into your one room dwelling to find his blaster trained on your body.
"Poe, please. It's me. I was disguised," you rushed to explain, hands held in the air non-threateningly. Seeing his dark eyebrows shift in confusion, you dared one step forward. "Do you still not recognize me?" You breath caught in your throat. Or maybe he didn't remember.
He was the wildly famed Commander Dameron after all. General, actually, by war's end. By that time, your mission had gone awry and you were stranded in this cesspool of a world.
His lip trembled as he slowly lowered his blaster. With shuddering breath, he whispered your name. "It can't be. It can't be. You're...dead."
"I'm not," you instinctively responded. "I'm here. I've been stranded here."
Holstering his weapon, he shook his head, eyes misting as he repeated your name. "It can't...I looked for you. I looked everywhere. For a year."
Your cheeks flamed with heat at this revelation. You'd not been forgotten, and maybe you'd even been missed. So you explained how you crashed. How you made your way to this port city, how you disguised yourself, keeping clean enough to hold a job but repellant enough to keep wandering hands off your body. How your only wish was to purchase your way off this horrid planet and find someone that you used to know - anyone from your old squadron or the Resistance.
Poe's typically warm, open gaze darkened into an anguished storm. "You couldn't contact me?"
Drawn to him like a moon to its planet, his presence lured you forward. "I tried. I didn't know where you were," you sadly replied.
He crowded in close, grasping your arms. "I would've come for you. I tried to come for you. I even looked here, in this system, anyway."
The revelation shot straight through your heart. But there was no time for too much sentiment, so you pushed it down.
"Poe...is there any way you can help me escape? Please." You swallowed hard, eyes misting. "It's been so lonely here. So hard."
Wrapping his arms around your body, he pulled you against the solid warmth of his chest. "Of course I'll help you." His stomach twisted with worry as you wilted into his embrace, murmuring, "Thank you, thank you," over and over.
After an indulgent moment, he eased back to catch your gaze. "Tell me if they hurt you. And tell me who. Names."
Shaking your head insistently, you pressed your palms against his chest. "I don't care about that. I just want to go. I have money saved. Not enough for no-questions-asked passage yet, but I have some. We have to go before my boss notices me gone tomorrow."
Poe frowned. "But your boss is the reason I'm here. He's been trafficking war refugees. I came here for some hard proof so he can be arrested."
"No," you frantically replied, "he's too dangerous. We have to go, right now. We have to find another way. We can't stay here."
"I can help you," Poe insisted. "I'll help you get out but I have to see this through -"
"No, please," you begged, grasping his leather jacket in your fists. "Please don't do this. He'll hurt you and he'll discover who I am. Please Poe, I can't stay here. And I can't lose you again."
"Shh," he soothed, cupping your cheek in his hand. "Hey, it's okay." His heart broke at the sound of your anguish. "It's okay. I promise I'll get you out."
Swiping a tear from your cheek with his thumb, Poe touched his forehead to yours. "I'll never let them touch you again. Or keep you here."
"They didn't hurt me. I made sure of that," you let him know, "but you have no idea how much suffering I've seen. How many people he did hurt while I bided my time."
"Come here," he said sweetly, pulling you back into his arms.
You held onto him for dear life. You'd always adored Poe, but nothing ever went farther than flirtation. The war kept you so busy on separate missions and you felt you could never take him seriously because he flirted with everyone. Since you didn't want to wait in a long line of admirers vying for his attention, you never said anything.
And since, in his mind at least, you brushed off every attempt he made to flirt his way closer to you, he never said anything either.
But now, here you were in his arms. Alone, in this room, after he thought you dead.
"Please, let's go," you whimpered, gripping him tighter. "I'll tell you everything I know about my boss. I-I'll give you all the money I have saved. Please."
The mental battle between his duty to put an end to this vile man's war crimes and you was no decision at all. It was you. You were alive. Poe melted at your broken pleas.
"I don't want your money," he breathed against your cheek
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Poe agreed to get you off world without delay. The two of you stealthily darted through alleys and streets, making your way to Poe's ship, while avoiding any unwanted attention. Opposing mobs controlled everything here, including space travel. You had to know the right people or grease the right palms to ever change your circumstances.
But Poe assured you he could get you out, so you stayed focused, following his lead, while occasionally redirecting him to a safer alley.
"Almost there," he whispered, crowding in behind you as you peered down a final street. "It's not a straight shot, though. Too many eyes."
"I know a way. Come on."
You made quite the team, reading signals and hand motions not used since the war, since you were Resistance fighters, together.
"There she is," he excitedly uttered, nodding toward an old X-wing fighter. Like from-the-Allicance old. The cute dome of his famed orange and white droid whirled around and beeped at his owner.
"You came here in an X-wing?" You scoffed, turning to him. "Do you have a death wish?"
"Official business," he shrugged. "No reason to hide who I'm with these days." He flashed you a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. It was his most telling worried look. You remembered it well.
That's when it occurred to you exactly how many people fit into an X-wing. One.
"No," you gasped as the realization hit you. "Poe? No." You so desperately didn't want to be left behind, but no way were you leaving alone. You wouldn't trade places with him. At least you knew how to survive here. Your heart sank as you realized he would have to come back for you. And if your scheme was discovered in the mean time, death would be a welcomed guest after what you would be forced to endure.
Grasping your shoulders, he met your frantic eyes. "Listen to me. You have to go. I can still do some good here, but I promised to get you out." He nodded toward the ship. "You know what to do - how to fly it. BB-8 will go with you. It's not during like the war. Once you get off world, you're safe. It's a Republic protected ship-"
"No," you said emphatically, grasping at his jacket the way you had done back at your place. "No, I'm not leaving without you."
"You have to," he repeated, cupping your cheek in his gloved hand. "You go and send back help. I'll probably be right behind you anyway. Just gotta find a ship." He gave you a lopsided grin. "Might beat you there."
"No, no, no," you shook your head rapidly. "You don't understand my boss. I do. You go. I'll stay."
You threw your arms around him. It might be the last time you ever saw him or touched him before you fled back to your hovel, to your daily hell.
Your breath brushed his neck temptingly as he held you close, bodies pressed together at every possible point. His arm slid up the curve of your back to cradle your neck, his other arm still holding you securely. As you lifted your head to meet his gaze, he thought he might lose himself forever in the depth of your eyes.
"Let me do this," he murmured, pressing his forehead to yours to keep you from shaking your head in protest. "You're going."
Your resolve was breaking, but it wasn't fair to leave him here. "No."
His eyes flashed. "You're just as stubborn as you ever were. Get on the damn ship. That's an order," he growled, right up against your mouth, hands digging into your hips.
"War's over, General," you hissed back, wilting at the way his breath curled from his lips to yours in short, heated puffs of desperate want. "You don't give me orders. I-"
He stopped you with a searing kiss, pushing your body up against the wall like a domino effect from the bottom of your bodies to the top. It started with the wedging of his thick, muscular thigh between your legs. Broad hips pinned yours in place as his hands traced up your sides, running all over you possessively until he gripped your face in his gloved hands, holding you captive. Tilting his head, he gave you one moment to catch your breath and then sank into you in every way a body could while still fully clothed.
He put you at his mercy, invading your space, stealing your breath and swallowing down all your protests as his tongue curled inside your mouth seductively.
Every scandalous rumor you ever heard about Poe could not compare to this kiss. The heat of his body contrasted sharply to the cool night air. His groans inside your mouth cancelled out the metallic clangs and whirs of the docked ships nearby.
He was softer and stronger and tasted better than any comfort you'd managed in all your time here - warm and alive and delicious and real.
Your kisses slowed as you gasped for air, holding onto one another for your last few moments together.
"I didn't find you and I'm so sorry," he whispered brokenly, the fight draining out of his soft, moonlit eyes. "Please let me do this. Let me get you safe."
"What if something happens to you?"
He shook his head resolutely. "Nothing is going to keep me away from you. Not again."
His breath ghosted your lips as your eyes drifted once again to his mouth. "If only I could've told you before...if only we had more time."
His forehead found yours again, his breath hot and tempting. "Time for what?"
You had nothing to lose anymore. He could know you adored him, just like everyone else did. That you were no different, no better. After that kiss, you could only pray that maybe he wanted you too.
"Time for us," you uttered, barely more than a whisper.
"Us?" His chest heaved, fingers pressing into your flesh desperately.
"Yes," you concluded for him. "Us."
His nose brushed against your cheek, breath trembling. "If you go, we'll have time. But you gotta go, sweetheart. If you say no again, I'll have to drag you outta here for desertion."
You knew he wasn't serious. The two of you shared a breathless smile and one final kiss.
It broke your heart, but you flew away from captivity, wondering if it was worth leaving your heart behind.
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It took some explaining as to why someone other than General Dameron returned in his X-wing, with his droid in tow, no less.
You were directed to a Republic military base for debriefing, wondering if this new galaxy was really as safe as Poe indicated previously. Some unfamiliar, official looking people offered you time to clean up, some clean clothes and a hot meal. They searched your meager belongings and took you to a room for questioning.
An intercom hummed and crackled, before a voice asked for your name, your home world, your occupation. Tired and terrified and nearly choking with guilt over leaving Poe, you managed some answers, growing more irritated by the second. Tears of frustration burned your eyes as you desperately attempted to not appear hostile.
During the middle of a question, the voice stopped, not completing a sentence and going quiet for several moments. While wondering if it was some sort of tactic, you put your face in your hands and let a few tears fall.
The door opened and you heard his voice.
"Hey," Poe said softly, kneeling down in front of you. "I'm so sorry. I'm here."
You wilted into his arms as he wrapped you close, pulling you off your chair. "Let's get out of here."
One of the men who got you ready for debrief scurried after the two of you, profusely apologizing to the general and to you.
Poe shrugged him off at first, but he seemed all too eager to force his way into the general's good graces. Stopping with a groan, he gripped your shoulders and looked into your eyes. "Gimme a moment."
Poe was shorter than everybody, but even looking up at the lanky, sweaty, overeager soldier, he was looking down on him.
"We don't treat witnesses as hostiles," Poe bit out, as if even making the effort to explain it was beneath him. (It was). "The war is over. Act like it."
"Yes, General," the over-eager man quickly replied.
"I just concluded my mission and closed a cold mission at the same time," Poe went on. "I found the head of the trafficking ring we've been tracking. I have a first-hand witness. And my missing pilot has been recovered. See to it that the files are updated accurately."
"Y-yes, General," he repeated, scurrying away.
Poe turned back to you, relieved to see a small smile on your face.
"Damn, you really love pulling rank, don't you?"
He shrugged one shoulder, giving you a lazy smile. "When I have to." Taking your hands in his own, he caressed your fingers tenderly. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I was mostly worried about you. Leaving you there was maybe the hardest thing I've done, except for surviving that place. How did you get here so fast?"
He grinned. "Told you I would probably beat you here."
Wrapping his arm around you, he guided you toward a garage. You eyed him curiously as he led you to a speeder.
"War's over. I don't live where I work anymore. Come on. I'll take you home." He helped you inside, keeping a careful hold on your hand as he zipped through the beautiful, snowy mountainside of this new world.
You glided along in silence for a bit, with raindrops gathering on the glass as you zoomed along.
"You're not mad at me are you?" He asked, squeezing your hand.
You returned the squeeze gratefully, turning to study his profile. "For making me leave you there?"
"No." The corner of his mouth curled. "For kissing you."
"Oh," you laughed. "No. I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner. I was starting to feel left out. You've kissed everyone."
"What?" He almost crashed the speeder, he whipped around to you so fast.
"I'm joking." With a warm smile, you laced your fingers through his. "We just never could get our timing right, could we?"
"We can now." He leaned over and kissed your temple. "We have time."
𓈒 ͜ ︵ ݂ ׁ✧𓈒 ͜ ︵ ݂ ׁ✧𓈒 ͜ ︵ ݂ ׁ✧
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