Back with another late night Blurb Tuesday. I've been really feeling like ass the last few days so have some self-indulgent comfort from our favorite Metal Man. 💖
No real warnings here, reader is sick and Din comforts her. Calls her "sweet girl" and there's mention of brushing back hair but not a lot of description past that.
"Come on, sweet girl, you need to eat something." Din attempts to get you to eat some of the soup leftover from your last stop in a town big enough to have a tavern. It wasn't that you didn't want to, but the idea of any food in your stomach, even something tasty, was enough to send you spinning.
"Din, I can't I'm sorry," you nearly whine, hunger and nausea making you emotional. You try to sit up but immediately regret the movement and decide to sink lower in your blankets instead.
"Water, then," Din says, settling onto the floor next to your cot and lifting a canteen to your lips. You begrudgingly take a light sip and lean your head back.
The water settles into your stomach like lead but doesn't threaten to come back up on you, so you take another small drink and give the container back to Din. "I hope that helmet filters germs, this is awful."
Din's ungloved hand comes to wipe sweaty hair from your face. "It... It doesn't, but it's fine."
Too tired to argue, you close your eyes and lean into his comforting touch. As a girl, your mom used to let you lay in her lap when you were sick. She'd rub your back and play with your hair and make you mint tea... But that was over now, and you had to learn to be sick on your own.
"What do you need?" Din's voice whispers through the modulator near your ear. Tears spring to your eyes as your knee-jerk reaction falls too quickly from your lips:
"Hold me."
Without hesitation, your Mandalorian removes all his armor, save his helmet, and climbs into the cot beside you. He cradles you gently against his chest, whispering comfort and running his fingers through your hair. His hands trail down to your back and rub knots out of the tense muscles. The tears finally fall and don't stop, your body too exhausted to keep the dam up for any longer. After a few minutes, though, the raging storm inside you has calmed to a light breeze and your body has melted into the man holding you.
"You're definitely getting sick now." You sniffle into his shirt and wipe the tears from your eyes. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry," he pulls back and traces his knuckles along your jawline, "You can always tell me what you need. Always."
You nod and bury yourself back into his chest, the beating of his heart and rise and fall of his chest lulling you into a peaceful sleep.
Works posted on AO3: 5
Fandoms: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine (4), Star Trek: Voyager (1)
Word Count: 32628
Kudos/Hits ratio: 0,13
it would’ve been you (Jadzia Dax/Kira Nerys, Ezri Dax/Kira Nerys, 1614 words)
nine lives (gen, Dax-centric, 4109 words)
song of you (Jadzia Dax/Lenara Kahn, WIP, 19671 words)
never meant (Jadzia Dax/Kira Nerys, 1846 words)
in from the cold (Jadzia Dax/B’Elanna Torres, 5388 words)
Ever since I started posting fanfiction in 2017 my yearly word count on AO3 has been steadily increasing (in 2018 it was 12931, divided into 2 works), but in 2019 I wrote a lot more than I realized, due mostly to ‘song of you’, despite it being still a WIP. As usual, most of what I write doesn't reach a polished enough state to be uploaded anywhere, but I'm happy I managed to revise/finish at least 4 fics this year and start my first long project. A big thank you to everyone who read, gave kudos and/or commented on my fics!
After years without writing anything, I wrote a tiny one-shot between Thomas Rush and my captain, Slick, a former highwaymen who ended up sticking around after Rush saved her life. She’s very survival oriented, and selfish in that regard, she isn’t the kind who’ll rush to help somebody if she doesn’t get anything out of it. However....
Also, this is three years before New Dawn!!
“You're so fucking stupid!! What the fuck were you thinking, rushing in like that! Are you trying to get killed?”
An irritated huff comes from the lying figure on the bunk bed : he’s annoyed. Tough fucking shit. Asshole’s gonna have to lie there and take her scolding this time, doctor’s orders. Well, at least the lying down part is. Slick had tuned out after “... bruised ribs but he’s going to be fine. He just needs to take it easy for a bit.”.
“You didn't have to come assist me, I don't need you to protect me!”
They’ve had this argument over and over again during those last two years. Thomas Rush is a man far too selfless for his own good, and it’s fucking infuriating. Especially when Slick has made her mission to keep him from killing himself by doing something stupid like, say, rescue a kitten from a burning building.
“Obviously I do, since you seem to make an habit of running around in the middle of a gun fight, un-fucking-armed!”
This here is a man who rarely gets angry. That’s probably why people look to him for leadership. He is collected, level-headed in every circumstance.
“I didn't ask you to fucking come after me!!“
Well, obviously not all the time. Right now, he’s huffing and puffing like it’ll give him any leverage in this argument, especially when he struggling to even push himself upright. He gives up almost immediately and plops down with a wince. Slick pointedly ignores the glare he sends her way in favor of crossing her arms, mouth opening on another vitriolic diatribe.
“Goddamnit, why do you even care?”
She’s cut off, mouth gaping like a fish out of water, grasping for words, red rising on her face.
“Why do I…?“She pauses, paces, face twisted with indignation before stopping next to the bed, stabbing a finger into his chest. “You made me care, you asshole!!! You’re the one who saved my fucking life and let me stick around! And now I don’t know what…“
Trailing off, she looks lost for a second, gaze wandering away. She backs off, a hand running in the mess of growing brown curls on her head, before letting her gaze fall back on him.
“Shit, what am I supposed to do if you die?” Her voice breaks on the last word, hoarse, all the venom drained from her. “Go back to the Highwaymen? I mean shit yeah, I could, I know they’d take me back. Not like I’d have anything else to do!”
Rush looks like he wants to interrupt, say something, but she cuts him off.
“I know I’m a shitty person, and I know you don’t like that I don’t give two shits about other people, but fuck, I don’t know how to be anything else!”
A half-hearted protest bubbles on the man’s lips, though he quiets it when Slick plants herself at his side once again, throwing glances everywhere but on him, hands waving uselessly, as if trying to grasp on the words she couldn’t find. For a moment, the thought crosses him that this is probably the most agitated he’s ever seen her, and that’s saying something.
Her internal battle seems to come to an end as she plops down next to him, white knuckles wound tight in the fabric of her pants, twisting and pulling. The tip of his fingers itch with the need to grab her hands in his, detangle them from the dirty jeans and link them with his. That a near guaranty that it’d frighten her off though, so he abstains.
“But you…” She glances down again, fixated on the fabric of the worn fingerless gloves she hasn’t stopped wearing since they met. “...you make me someone else, someone different, better! With you, I can do good, be good! But if you’re gone, I don’t have the strength to be all that. If I lose you, I lose the best part of me.”
There’s a moment of stunned silence, and Rush is unsure of how to break it. How does one answer to that? Well, there are some things he’d like to say, but they regard feelings he isn’t touching with a ten foot pole, not here, not now, and certainly not half out of his head with painkillers. There’s a sigh before the woman schools the uncharacteristic dejected look on her face into a frown, her eyes falling on him again, finally.
“I hate you, you know.” That’s a big fat lie if any of them ever heard one, but it’s easier to handle than whatever that little breakdown just was. “My life was so much easier before you dragged my ass out of that collapsed pile of concrete.”
That kinda talk Rush can deal with. He snorts, sinks a little bit deeper into the cheap mattress.
“Well, so was mine, but you don’t hear me complain.”
A/N: We've come full circle here, folks! This is a rewrite of the first fic I ever wrote/posted, just wanted to try my hand at elevating my writing now that I've had some more practice. Please let me know what you think through reblogs and/or coming to yell at me in my asks! Here's the link to the NMWT universe masterlist if you wanted to peruse more of these two goofs. 🥰
Thank you for reading, and May the 4th Be With You. 💖
You had known Poe your whole life. For most of it, he’d just been the pesky older brother of your best friend. Your parents had been friends with his since long before you were born and the boys had just come built-in to the family they created.
Honestly, the dynamic had always worked; he teased and pestered his brother and it just sort of rippled over to you. It didn’t matter that you had snuck glances in high school at Poe as he pulled himself out of the pool, learning to admire the shift of muscles in his back or the strength of his arms. The hours you spent with him in their garage keeping him company and occasionally helping him fix his beat-up old car was just a way to pass the time when you had nothing better to do, and nothing to do with how just talking with him made you feel… Awake. Even in your darkest moments, the easy flow of conversation had been a light that opened your eyes and lifted a weight off your shoulders. Even the nights of teasing and poking fun at dive bars that never checked your fake IDs were just friendly. Never anything more.
And then you left. Went off to college and grad school and figured out who you were outside of the boxes of youth. Had experiences and grew and decided that coming home wasn’t such a bad idea. Especially when your boyfriend, Mark, had been so enthusiastic about joining you and starting your lives together.
It felt right to be back home. Six years and what seemed like a different life later, it felt right to be sitting on the back deck with your family, your parents and the Damerons sipping cider in the warm September afternoon.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” your mother starts, her hair blazing in the later afternoon sun, “Poe will be stopping by. Said he wanted to say hi.”
“I’m not surprised,” you roll your eyes with a smile, “he’d never miss an opportunity to be a pain in my ass.”
“He said he misses you.”
You hum a non-committal response, taking another sip of your drink. “You know what, I’m glad he’s coming by. It’ll be good to see him. I don’t think I’ve seen him since Christmas last year.”
The conversation continues around you and you take a moment to close your eyes and breathe in the late summer air. Two years in a colder, northern state made it clear that you never wanted to be without the sun again. Its strong, constant presence at home was a sign to you that being here was right. Being home was right.
As you begin to doze the creak of the screen door signals Poe’s arrival. You sleepily open your eyes and turn to shoot him a grin. “Well finally, Mom said you were coming by. I’ve been waiting for hours.”
He sketches a playful bow, “So sorry to have kept you waiting.” He swiftly makes his way to the parents, dolling out hugs and greetings before settling down in a chair next to his father.
The afternoon progresses, laughter and chit-chat filling the air. Poe pushes as many of your buttons as possible, as usual, but it feels like home. You playfully threaten to kick his ass out, laughing as you stand and make your way toward the door to get another drink from the kitchen.
Just as you open the refrigerator door, your phone buzzes in your pocket. A tipsy giggle falls from your lips as you pull it up and see your boyfriend’s name flashing across the screen.
“Hi baby,” you answer brightly, “everything go okay getting the UHaul?”
Mark is quiet for a moment, static crackling on the line. He finally begins to speak, the minutes blurring together as he feeds you excuse after excuse. Finally, he tells you he isn’t moving home with you. He isn’t coming. You hang up the phone in a daze.
The living room is silent as you stare at nothing for a minute, not fully remembering how you’d gotten to the couch. Shock has locked up your mind and the backlight on your phone fades to black in your still-hovering hand. He isn’t coming…
The feeling of being watched shakes you from your haze but you don’t turn to the form you feel hovering in the doorway to the kitchen. You aren’t sure how long he’d been standing there, but it’s easy to assume he’d heard enough of the conversation to know what’s going on.
“You can come out of there, Poe, you’re a terrible snoop,” you say quietly.
“Who says I was snooping?” You finally turn to shoot him a weak glare. He’s standing against the doorframe, arms clad in his favorite olive green hoodie crossed over his torso. “I heard a raised voice and thought I’d come see what all the commotion was about.”
“Save it, Poe,” you sigh, slumping against the couch, “I’m not in the mood.”
He looks at you with an all-too-knowing gaze. The one downside of knowing Poe as long as you had: he’d known you just as long. “Alright, alright. I know you aren’t mad at me specifically, so I’ll play nice. Wanna talk about it?”
“Not even a little bit.”
“Wanna drink about it?”
You look at the half-empty drink in your hand and give it a shake. “Sure. Go make me another one. I’ll be done with this one when you get back.” He leaves with a nod, disappearing back into the kitchen.
By the time Poe returns with two fresh drinks and, to your surprise, a bottle of whisky, your drink is indeed gone. “Figured I’d bring the whole bottle, assuming I heard that conversation correctly. What was this one’s excuse?” He sits down next to you on the couch.
“He said something along the lines of, 'You just have so much going for you and I’m only going to bring you down.’ I told him I wasn’t in the business of fixing broken men anymore and if he wanted to break up with me then he needed to just come out and say it. Then he got mad at me for quote, 'not giving a shit’, called me a bitch, and told me it was over.” You hold your hand out for the drink, only to have Poe put the open bottle in your palm instead.
“What a stupid kid.”
“Maybe I’m the stupid one,” you scoff as you take a swig, the amber liquid burning its way down your throat and honing your shock into something sharper. “How do I always attract these kinds of guys?”
Poe looks at you for a second, an unfamiliar emotion on his face. You blink and it’s gone, replaced by the cool, nonchalant mask he usually wore. “Like I said, stupid kid. Might be time to set your sights on a man.”
“Oh sure, bring on the men in their suits with a 401k and a car they didn’t haggle off a junk lot. Where could I find them? I’m sure they’d be interested in a girl fresh out of grad school who still doesn’t have a job. A real catch.”
“You’d be surprised at what people see as attractive. Me, for example. I don’t do too badly. But I’m incredibly attractive so that isn’t too surprising,” he says with his trademark smirk.
“Shut the fuck up,” you mutter, half-heartedly throwing a pillow at him. Surprisingly, he does, and you fall into an easy silence, the only sound coming from the quiet news story on the tv.
After a few minutes, your parents and the Damerons come in and begin gathering up their things to go out. “We decided to grab a cab to Mauri’s for dancing, you kids want to join?” Your mom asks, slipping her shoes on in the entryway.
The hometown bar was legendary for Friday night dancing, but the usual draw just doesn’t tug on you. “Nah, Mark just called and told me he isn’t coming. Not really in the mood for dancing.”
“Oh honey,” your mother sighs, “I’m so sorry.” She walks to your side and perches on the arm of the couch. “Do you want us to stay?”
A warm glow momentarily fills your chest at her concern. “No, please go have fun. I’m just gonna hang here and go to bed early.”
Your mom kisses the crown of your head and pulls your gaze to hers. “If you need anything, we’ll come home right away.”
“Don’t worry, I have to work early so I’ll keep her company,” Poe gallantly offers. You subtly send him a grateful glance. He winks back with a grin.
“Okay, if you’re sure…” Your mom begins before your dad gently pulls her away, reminding her that you’re an adult and that you’ll ask for help when you need it.
The taxi pulls up and your parents file out the door, already bubbling about what songs they hope the band plays and what friends are already there waiting for them. The house quiets down again and you sink back into your seat.
Damn, the couch is small, you think to yourself, realizing how slight the distance is between you and Poe. Was he that close the entire time?
Shaking your head, you turn your attention to the windows overlooking a tidy front yard. The sky outside is on its way to twilight and, in the companionable silence, your mind wanders back to the phone call with Mark. There goes a year of my life… What do I do now?
Poe abruptly speaks up, pulling you out of your moping. “Alright, time for a change of scenery. Want to go sit on the back porch? Get a fire in the fire pit going?” he asks, turning to face you. That man never could keep still long enough to even get through a commercial break.
"Sure. I don’t have a jacket, though. Packed all my cold clothes so they’re sitting in storage.” A small pang rings through you as you remember who you packed all your things with. Looks like I won’t be unpacking with Mark after all…
Whether he sees the hurt in your eyes or not, he doesn’t acknowledge it. “You can wear mine, ya baby,” he scoffs, taking off his hoodie in one swoop and handing it to you, “It isn’t that cold yet.”
You ignore the jab and head towards the back of the house.
The night is starting to cool off. Leaves are starting to turn but not fall, summer is starting to yield to autumn. You pick the oversized chair closest to the fire pit and climb into it, curling up and putting on his sweatshirt as you go. He doesn’t say anything as he grabs some wood from the shed and piles it into the fire pit. Sure, steady movements show just how many times he’s done this, strong arms and dexterous hands building up the logs around the smaller kindling. It doesn’t take long before he’s got a crackling fire going, the flames dancing in the twilight glow. He settles into the chair opposite you. Some time passes in silence before you finally say:
“I’m such an idiot.”
Poe holds space for you to figure out the emotions warring inside you. He doesn’t try and fix the problem, just stares into the flames and waits for you to continue. Usually the picture of calm, you can’t help but notice the muscle flicker in his arm as his fingers tense into a fist. Almost like he’s wanting to argue with the words falling from your lips. From the truths that flow as alcohol plies your tongue.
“I should have seen this coming… Who am I kidding? Of course the only guys who are interested in me end up having mommy issues or daddy issues or something and I, ever the rehabilitator, can’t seem to just let them see a fucking therapist. I have to fix them. So, apparently, I deserve this. Just doomed to a life of bouncing from guy to guy until I’ve given them all the second chances they don’t deserve. I’m a fucking mess.”
Your voice breaks on the last word and you at last let the tears come. The dam breaks and you bury your head in your hands as the last of the shock wears off and your mind comprehends what’s happened. Soft steps walk toward you and Poe slides into the oversized chair next to you.
Just as you pull your legs up to tuck into yourself, Poe slides his arms around you. Both strong and steady, he slides one under your knees and braces one behind your shoulders to pull you into his lap. As soon as you’re settled, you release the tight grip on your legs and slip your arms around his shoulders, leaning into his embrace and letting him hold you as you cry. You don’t worry about why you’re suddenly letting yourself be so vulnerable and exposed emotionally with him, you just let him comfort you with soothing strokes down your back. He lets you cry and, eventually, starts humming. It isn’t any song in particular, he just hums and works a beautiful melody that you can feel in your whole body. You’re familiar with the timbre of his voice, rich and warm, helping you through the sobs rather than trying to stop them. Weathering the storm with you. Finally, the tears stop, your breathing evens out, and you both just sit there for a little while.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper, pulling your arms from around his shoulders and wiping your eyes, “I guess it all just kind of caught up with me.”
“You don’t have to apologize, we’ve all been there,” he squeezes you in a small hug but doesn’t let you go. “Although, I’ve never seen you like that.”
“We’ve known each other our whole lives and you’ve never seen me cry?”
"No, I’ve never seen you doubt yourself.”
You don’t respond for a moment before asking, “What do you mean?”
“In all the years we’ve known each other, I’ve never seen you stop believing in yourself. You’ve always been this confident, albeit stubborn, person who was actually known to give me a challenge every once in a while.” You look up to see a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Why do you think I never complained when you came over?”
“Uh, because we were kids and didn’t have a choice in the matter?”
“My brother was always having friends over. You’re one of very few I didn’t ask my parents to bar from the house.”
“Sweet talking me right now, Dameron?”
“Just thought you could use some perspective.”
Throughout the entire exchange, you didn’t move and he didn’t let you go. It’s dark now, mellow in the September evening. The crackling of the fire and the wind in the mature trees are the only sounds as you decide to sneak another look up at his face, your breath snatched away by what you see.
He’s staring into the fire; eyes and face unburdened by facade. The flames light up his dark brown eyes, brows slightly furrowed as if in some deep thought. Thick stubble, maybe a couple of days’ worth, peppers his strong jaw, his mouth set in a thin line. A scowl, so unlike the roguish smirk you’ve seen light his face for as long as you can remember. You can’t stop yourself as you reach up to lightly run a finger over those full lips, some emerging part of you demanding to be noticed in this intimate and uncharted territory.
His eyes snap from the fire to yours, just as surprised as you are to find your fingers brushing from his lips up his jaw and down his neck, savoring and memorizing the lines of his face; the flames in his eyes that aren’t entirely just reflections from the fire pit in front of you.
“What are you doing?” he asks, his voice as rough as the stubble under your fingers. His pulse hammers through the vein in his neck, tempo nearly matching yours as blood thunders through your body. You wonder if he can feel it in the lingering touch of your fingertips.
“I honestly don’t know.” You quickly take your hand away and start to push out of his warm embrace. “I’m so sorry.”
“Wait.” He doesn’t let you get up as he gently adjusts you so he can see you a little better. “I didn’t mean that to sound like stop. Just… please. Stay.”
So you do. Wrapped up in his sweatshirt, in him, the smell of him familiar and somehow entirely new now. After your heartbeat settles a bit you whisper, “Tell me what you’re thinking?”
He continues his silent vigil, staring at the flames and tracing circles along your leg. He’s quiet for long enough that you begin to think he didn’t hear your silent request. As you’re about to ask again, he speaks:
“I’m thinking… I’m thinking that I don’t want to ruin this.”
Your heart drops, waiting for the blow to land. The fear that you’d misread the situation and that the connection you’d felt flickering in the fading light wasn’t reciprocated surges up and you prepare for him to disappear when, suddenly, words are tumbling from him like he’s afraid he won’t be able to get them all out if he doesn’t do it all at once.
“I don’t want to ruin what we have, what we’ve always had. I know I’ve always been a bit of a bully, picking on you the way I’ve always picked on my brother, but underneath it all I’ve always known you had a hold on me. You worked your way into a fundamental part of who I am without even trying. I almost asked you not to leave a couple of years ago, but you were set on going to grad school and I knew I couldn’t get in the way of that dream. And when you brought that Mark guy home for Christmas…”
The memory flashes in your mind. His parents’ snow-covered house, lights flickering merrily in the deep winter night, glowing as you opened the door and greeted everyone. The night had gone well but… Poe had left early that night, muttering something about seeing friends from out of town before slipping out the door. The realization must’ve been clear on your face because he nods and says, “That’s why I bailed that night. Seeing you flushed from the cold walking through the front door, eyes sparkling from all the Christmas cheer, I felt lighter than air. Our eyes met and I could’ve sworn I saw something spark… But then I looked behind you and saw him, saw the way you looked at him throughout the night, and I couldn’t take it. I had to get out. I told myself that night that I would never be anything more to you than what I had always been and to move on.”
The glistening in his eyes breaks your heart, the urge to comfort him enough to bring your hand back up to his face. You cup your hand around his jaw and he sighs, closing his eyes and leaning into the contact. Without opening his eyes, he whispers, “I’m sorry. I promised myself I wasn’t ever going to tell you any of this.”
“I’m glad you did, Poe.” Your free hand rests on his chest, savoring the heart beating solidly beneath. “I really am.”
“Please tell me what you’re thinking.”
Now it’s your turn to be quiet for a moment. You pull your hands back to tuck into your chest and lay your head on him once again. After a couple of steadying breaths you say, “Do you remember the last night I was here before I left for school?”
Of course he did. You didn’t think either of you could forget that night. You and your families, along with some other friends, got together for karaoke at your favorite bar as a send-off. People steadily trickled out all night but you, Poe, and a couple of other friends straggled behind until it was suddenly one in the morning. You had spent the night singing with him, song after song, harmonizing and coming up with your own lyrics to songs you both knew by heart.
“I do. That’s when I almost asked you to stay.”
“There was a part of me that wanted you to. I went to the bathroom while Henry was singing some terrible rendition of "Runaway” and, as I was washing my hands, I heard you start “Wonderful Tonight”. The whole world stopped, Poe. I snuck out of the bathroom to watch you sing and I couldn’t breathe… I wrote it off as the night of drinking making me goofy but I swear to God, Poe, I’ve heard you sing that song a million times and never heard it that way before. And then you looked at me. You looked right into me and saw all of me and I couldn’t look away. The memory of it all pops into my head sometimes and I’m still left breathless by it. By you.“
As you stop speaking, you could swear the wind and fire stop making noise too. Nothing exists outside the shaking breaths and thundering heart you can hear, unsure if they’re coming from you or Poe. You can feel it; the freefall you were about to be in. Was it really only an hour ago you were upset about some boy breaking up with you over the phone? Some kid who wasn’t ready for everything you wanted for your future? And here, right now, was a man. An honest-to-God man, willing to keep his needs hidden so you could choose your own path…
You lift your head up and look at his face to gauge his reaction to what you just told him. He looks down at you with starlight and flames in his eyes as he meets yours and then, slowly, as if expecting you to disappear, Poe closes the small distance between you and kisses you.
It’s… Soft. Almost hesitant, a silent invitation without expectation. He’d never put you in a situation where you didn’t have a choice and, even now, even after both of you let down your walls and shared these tender secrets, he’s still giving you a choice. There’s no doubt in your mind as you deepen the kiss, putting all the words you’d been holding back for years into the contact. He lets loose his breath in a sigh and sends trembling hands to tentatively explore your body. The timid touches, feather-light and careful, make you smile as you pull away.
“I want this, Poe,” you promise him, your hands cradling his face, “I want you, and I have for a long time.”
His smile in return sends sparks through your veins and he wastes no time threading his fingers into your hair, sending you crashing back together. His free hand, strong and sure and steady now, freely roams every curve of your body. His mint and cedar smell wraps around you as your own hands grasp at his sweatshirt. Wanting- needing- more, you playfully nip at his bottom lip.
His sharp intake of breath makes you pause, worried you’ve done something wrong, but a laugh rumbles low in his chest. “So that’s how you want to play?” he mumbles into your lips.
A conspirator's grin lights your features, “I don’t have the faintest idea what you mean.” Before he can respond, you turn your attention to his neck, kissing a trail down the side. You nudge the collar of his t-shirt away enough to gently graze your teeth over the soft spot where his neck meets his shoulder, his entire body shivering at the sensation.
Interrupting whatever train of thought Poe had started, you shift your body over his and straddle his legs, pinning him to the chair and stopping his words with a searing kiss. After a moment, you pull back to look into his face. His eyes burn with emotion; those beautiful, dark eyes, almost black with desire in the glow of the dying fire. No one has tended to it in a while and it looks like no one will for a while longer…
“Tell me you want me,” you softly request.
“I want you.” His hands tremble with restraint against your hips.
“Again.”
“I want you,” he responds again, the quivering spreading to the rest of his body.
“Then have me, Poe,” you whisper, reaching for the hem of his shirt, “because I want you, too.”
A low growl escapes his lips as the internal leash snaps. His lips find yours again and you part for him easily, his tongue hungrily sweeping through. The lingering taste of whisky tickles your lips and adds to the fire burning in your body. Every touch, every noise and place your body meets his surges with wildfire, the driving demand for more, more, more pounding in time with your heartbeat. He tears away from your lips to find any piece of skin not buried in his hoodie, kisses nearing desperate as your hands explore the planes of his chest. The muscles flex and shift, your nails finding purchase as you grasp the soft fabric of his shirt.
“Poe, please…” You’re not entirely sure what you’re asking for, the pulsing need in every corner of your body taking control of your tongue and nearly begging for more. More of this, more of him. Taking the hem of his shirt in your hands, you begin to tug it up and off of him when he senses the shift and takes over.
In one swift motion, he has you in his arms and stands. His long legs eat up the distance from the deck to the door, then inside to the guest room you’re staying in. Once inside, he lays you reverently on the bed and kneels on the ground next to you.
“Wait,” he pants, forcing himself to take a breath and remove his hands from your body. You whine at the loss, sitting up and grabbing for him. He stops you and asks, “You’re sure? Earlier this afternoon you had a boyfriend and now… I just don’t want you to feel like I’m taking advantage of you.”
The sincerity of his words fills your heart to near bursting. Had you really been treated so poorly that this moment of true decency felt like a gift? Taking your own steadying breath, you rise to your knees and pull him up to face you, wrapping your hands around his. You’d told him you wanted him, you had no other words to give him. So, instead, you guide his hands to your lips to kiss them while your gaze stays locked with his and nod.
“Good,” is all Poe says with a heart-breaking smile before gripping your waist and tossing you back onto the bed. Your laugh tangles with his in the air, a shimmering melody and harmony you’ve been practicing your entire life.
The wildfire burning in your veins flares back to life at the gleam in his eyes. He climbs onto the bed over you and hovers there, eyes drinking in your body spread out underneath him. He hikes the hem of his hoodie over the waistband of your pants and traces a finger over the sliver of skin peeking through. Agonizingly slow, he ghosts his hand up, up, up your torso to graze over the fabric of your bra.
“So many layers,” he muses, hand never stopping its movement as he leans down to brush his lips over yours.
You’re beyond words. The promise of him touching you, really touching you, striking you dumb. You can only focus on where his hand is and, if you move just right…
“Come on, baby, tell me what you want,” he whispers, voice skittering over your bones, full of silken promise.
“Touch me,” you manage to whine, too entranced with the way his body feels over yours to be embarrassed at the begging mess you’ve been reduced to.
“Yes, honey, but where?” Stubble scrapes gently along your cheek as Poe dips his mouth to your neck.
You get ahold of yourself enough to grab his hand over your layers, pressing down and responding with a breathy, “Here.”
“That’s a good girl.” Heat flares in you again at the praise. He nips at your ear while pulling his hand out of your shirt and grabbing the hem, taking both the layers and pulling them over your head. His long fingers, lightly calloused from years of work and playing guitar, slip the straps of your bra off of your shoulders and he slides the garment away from your breasts, exposing the heated and tingling skin to the cool air. His eyes spark with awe and lust as he cups both of them with his hands.
Your legs press together seeking any release from the tension building in your core and a small whimper sneaks its way out of you. The movement isn’t lost on Poe and he takes momentary pity on you, pressing a deep, lingering kiss to your lips. “I’m going to enjoy,” he murmurs, “Coaxing every one of those noises out of you.”
“Promises, promises,” you chide, finding a little more of your voice.
“There she is.” Poe’s smile lights the dim room and brings a smile to your face as well.
If your heart didn’t already feel like it was full to bursting, the vulnerability on his face would’ve done it. Your friend was here, the boy you grew up with was now the man making you feel safer and happier than you had in years. The realization helps you bring down that final wall, any hesitation or fear falling away and clearing your mind.
This. This was why none of your relationships had worked in the past. Why there was always that little something that felt like it was missing. You had crawled through deserts of heartache and sorrow to find that the oasis was here, with him, all along.
Flinging every scrap of self-consciousness to the wind, you take his lower lip between your teeth and nip it gently. His appreciative groan urges you on, encouraging you to grab his shirt and yank, pulling it off his lightly muscled torso. His hands make quick work of the clasp to your bra and, within a few heartbeats, the garment falls to the floor. Fumbling hands open his belt and pants. Your body aches with the promises his hands make along your skin.
“Get your… Get your pants off,” you demand between kisses.
He laughs, pure and rich, before quickly acquiescing to your demands. You take his moment of distraction to maneuver out of your own shorts and underwear. When Poe looks back at you, he pauses, eyes taking in every inch of your skin laid bare before him.
The look in his eyes when his gaze finally meets yours is like coming home.
Beyond words, Poe dives back into you with a fervor. It’s an unleashing. He grips the back of your neck with one hand while the other skates down your body and lands on the outside of your thigh, pulling your leg up low around his hips.
The tension in your body has you about to break. Your hand seeks him out, winding between your bodies and wrapping around the proud length of him. His hips surge forward at the contact, silently begging you for more. There’s no hesitation as you languidly pump him up and down, his arms beginning to shake from holding himself above you.
“Sl- Slow down,” he shudders, “You’re driving me wild here.”
You don’t respond, only keeping that gentle, tantalizing pace going, savoring the way his body responds to your touch.
Pulling away from your lips, Poe’s hand surges down to grab your wrist, halting your teasing. “Someone isn’t very good at listening,” he growls.
“Someone is taking his sweet time,” you fire back, mischief lacing your words.
Poe settles onto his knees and your leg falls from where it’s been curled around his body. He brings your hand up above your head, taking its twin and crossing your wrists in one hand, pinning them to the pillow. “You’re going to regret that,” he promises, sending a wave of excitement through you.
His hand releases your wrists and he slowly eases down your body, eyes never leaving yours as he settles between your legs, shoulders settling under the backs of your thighs. His face, sun-kissed and as familiar as your own, framed by your legs, it all makes your breath hitch and heart pound with anticipation.
A wink is the only warning you get before his mouth is on you, kissing and licking and drinking you in like a glass of fine wine. Your hands jerk to the covers next to you, grasping for purchase to keep you from flying out of your skin. His tongue dances through every inch of you.
“Poe…” His name is the only word you can utter, the only prayer you can muster as he offers his own kind of worship. Sparks light your vision as you barrel towards release and your hands weave into his curls, begging him to stay right there…
You get one more breath before the orgasm is tearing through your body. He never breaks away from you, rather, his claiming grip on your thighs keeps you tight to him. He never falters through the waves rolling down your spine that send you shaking.
It could’ve been hours or it could’ve been seconds, but, as the tide recedes and your mind drifts back into the present, Poe rises to his knees and brushes a hand along the side of your face. “You still with me, baby?”
You summon a nod, glazed eyes finding his above you.
“That’s a good girl,” he croons, lifting each of your legs up and over his shoulders once again. He kisses the inside of each knee as he settles your legs.
Like a marble sculpture, chisled by the hands of artists and imagined by the minds of poets, he kneels before you, eyes burning in the soft lamplight of the room. “Tell me you want me,” he asks softly, echoing your demand from before.
“I want you.” You’ve never wanted anyone or anything more.
“Again,” he echoes again, slowly notching himself at your blazing entrance.
“I want you.” Your voice is bright and clear.
“Good,” he responds, and slips easily into you.
Like a puzzle piece gently settled into place, your soul feels just how right it is for you to be here. It isn’t just sharing your body with someone, it’s a homecoming. The way your bodies meld and match is secondary to the echo of contentedness at the realization that your paths have finally led you here.
He starts gently, allowing you time to adjust to the fullness of him. A gentle rise and fall as he rocks into and out of you. His hands grip your thighs while his lips kiss anywhere he can reach, unable to completely hold back. And you don’t want him to. You want to feel every inch of skin and muscle you can. The need burns through you as you reach for the sturdy legs beneath him, just out of your reach.
“Please,” you gasp as he begins to pick up the pace, “I need… I need to…”
“Anything,” he says, letting your legs fall so he can lean into your reach. “Anything, it’s yours.”
You pull him over top of you, not caring as his full weight crashes onto you, and wrap your arms over his shoulders. Scorching kisses brand your collarbone and neck as he wraps around you as well and flips over so your body lies on his. All the gentle touches and movements are lost as he picks up his pace, punishing and overcome with need.
“Yes,” you sigh, burying your face in the crook of his neck and panting against his sweat-slicked skin.
From his lips pour praise, drunk on the feeling of you wrapped around him. Draping loving words around you like silk and lace, he punctuates each word with kisses and bites and doesn’t stop holding you through it all.
The edge of another orgasm looms before you, but you hold back as much as possible, wanting to tumble over the edge with him. You lift your head just enough to look into his eyes, the beginning of laugh lines etched into the skin around them. “Let go, Poe, I’m ready.”
Pressing a kiss to his lips, you rest your forehead against his and shift your hips in time with his. The angle threatens to overwhelm you but you hold on, freeing your hands to slip into his hair. Energy sparks around you and, with one final thrust, Poe tips over the edge and pulls you with him.
Shattering is the only way you can describe the feeling of the waves burning through you, Poe half a breath ahead of you. Panting and shivering from the exertion, you fully collapse on top of him, heartbeats pounding in call and response to each other. You’re fully content to lie like this forever, wrapped in his arms and the smell of him, skin to skin and souls laid bare to one another.
He kisses the top of your head, finally adjusting to roll you over next to him. He looks into your eyes, something unsaid burning just below the surface of his intense gaze.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” you say quietly, never looking away from him.
“I’m thinking,” he pauses for a moment, “that I wasted a lot of time not telling you how I felt. And that I don’t want to miss any more time.”
“Then we won’t.” You smile brightly up at him, taking in the excitement and joy on his face. “You’re stuck with me, Dameron.”
He kisses you again, sweet and gentle and unhurried. You kiss him back, trying to put all the words you held yourself back from saying into it. Making up for lost time. He pulls away, looking you up and down, wonder shaping every feature.
“No more wasted time. You and me against the world,” you say softly.
He pulls the covers over both of you and, as he pulls you in close to his chest, he repeats reverently, “No more wasted time.”
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Alrighty, #BlurbTuesday coming in just under the wire! Since I wasn't able to write anything this week (it's been a BUSY one, y'all) you get a sneak preview into a series I'm writing! This may or may not be exactly how it turns out later, but I thought I'd use this moment since I'm pretty proud of it. Stretching those dialogue muscles!
Warnings: reader has a nightmare, helmet is off for a second, emotions lol. This doesn't really need a rating but, as always, the whole blog is 18+ ONLY. Love y'all. 💖
Cold. It's cold, and you're laying in the street he left you in. Your hand raises to reach out as you yell, "Don't go. Please, don't go..."
"You're weak."
"But I came to save-"
"To save me? You can't even save yourself."
Your voice is raw from screaming as the man in front of you begins to fade...
“Hey, hey, wake up. Wake up!” someone shouts. You’re being shaken, blankets tangled and squeezing your body. Your eyes shoot open to the darkness of a hand covering your eyes.
“Shhh, it’s okay, it’s just a dream, you’re okay.” You realize Mando is the one talking, and it’s his hand covering your eyes.
“What’s going on?” you’re scrambling to get the blankets off you, sweat coating every inch of your body.
“I’m sorry,” Mando says, “I couldn’t get my helmet on fast enough, you’ve gotta calm down so I know you won’t look.”
His helmet… He doesn’t have his helmet on. You force your breathing to calm and close your eyes again under his hand.
“I’m okay. I won’t look, I promise.” You intentionally take deep breaths trying to slow your racing heart. “You can go back to bed. I’m sorry for waking you up.” You wait patiently for him to remove his hand. Just to prove the seriousness of your promise, as soon as his hand is gone you replace it with your own. You feel his body shift off your cot and hear metal clink as he retrieves the helmet.
“Okay, you can look,” Mando’s voice is modulated again and you remove your hand from your face. As your eyes open, all you can see is Mando, backlit by the soft glow from the various control panels dotting the walls.
“I’m sorry for waking you up,” you repeat, throwing all your blankets to the floor next to you and resting the side of your head on the cool metal wall. “Like you said, it was just a dream.”
“Are you alright?” Mando asks, kneeling next to the bed.
“I’m fine,” you wave his concern away.
“Do you… Wanna talk about it?”
You turn your head to look over the Mandalorian beside you. A loose, base layer shirt fits snugly over his arms and chest, his strength obvious. His helmet gleams in the soft light and the pitch black visor is trained on your face, probably analyzing your every move.
“It was just… A dream. Just a dream.”
“About him?” he asks.
“How did you…?”
“You were calling out for him,” Mando answers frankly.
You lean back against the wall and sigh. “Yes. I was just seeing him leave. Again. Not the first time I’ve had this dream.”
“You don’t believe what he said, do you?”
The question gives you pause. “Of course I do. We’ve known each other for a long time, he knows me better than anyone.”
“And you think that means he’s right about you being scared and weak?” The way he asks the questions are matter-of-fact, but they hold no malice.
“I know he’s right. Until now, I’d never even been outside my town, let alone off-world. I’m too scared and too weak to be anything but a girl who never left home.”
You can’t see his face, but something about Mando changes the moment you finish speaking. “You’re wrong.”
“Excuse me?” You turn your head to look at him, brows furrowed.
“The fact you left everything and everyone behind to go find your fiance, especially having never left home, shows your courage. Your loyalty to him was clear the moment you stepped foot on the Crest. Your strength in pulling yourself together after what that idiot did to you… You’re so much more than you’re giving yourself credit for.”
You’re speechless. That was the most you’d ever heard him speak in one go and it was like he knew exactly what you needed to hear. Mando rises, not waiting for a response, and grabs the bag holding your loth-wolf figurine.
“You’re a strong woman,” He opens the bag and gives you the small piece of art. “Arlon doesn’t know what he’s missing.”
You stare at the creature in your hand and Mando moves back to his bunk. Before he shuts the door, you look up. “Thank you, Mando.”
“You’re welcome. Get some sleep,” is all he says.
But you can’t sleep. Not for fear of the nightmares returning, but something else pulls at your attention… Mando believes in you. You’ve only been traveling with him for a few weeks at this point and he can already see something in you that you can’t. He thinks you’re strong. And loyal. And courageous. Words that no one has ever used to describe you before now. And you really enjoy how it feels. Maybe… Maybe you really can be those things.
“I’m in love with you. What do you think about that?”
Hello loves! I've been in a Din rhythm the last few weeks for Blurb Tuesday and the new series, so let's shift gears back to Poe! Softer, fluffier piece since people seem to really like that (and I like writing it so it's a win-win). 🥰 I found the inspiration from a writing prompt but I lost the post before I could reblog it, so credit to the original brain this idea came from!
Warnings: nothing really, mentions canon-typical violence and death but mostly fluff and two idiots in love. Un-beta'd, as Blurb Tuesday usually is lol. Reader has no description.
As always, asks are open for requests! 💖 Love y'all SO MUCH! 💖
The base was finally calming down after the most recent, albeit small, victory, hard-won by the Rebels. Small pockets of people mourned the losses sustained, while others quietly celebrated reuniting with loved ones. Sometimes- most times- those groups overlapped, the tears in their eyes from both joy and pain as they hugged those who managed to return. The moment your X-Wings landed, you and Poe jumped out of your respective ships and immediately found each other. No words were exchanged as his arms found their way around you; you just wrapped your own arms over his shoulders and buried your face in his neck. A slight tremor ran through his body for the heartbeats you held one another.
Later, in a muted mess hall at your own table, you and Poe sit alone and poke at food neither one of you will actually finish. You sit side by side, knees touching under the table, and you lay your head on his shoulder.
“It’s so quiet,” you whisper, pulling your lip between your teeth nervously.
His hand comes to rest on your knee, “I know.”
“How is it that after all this time, after all these missions, I still get so scared out there?”
“It never gets easier.” He squeezes your knee and gently kisses the crown of your head. “But it shouldn’t. No one should get so used to war that it stops being scary. It’s okay to be scared as long as you keep doing what scares you.”
You nod but stay quiet, finally putting your fork down and dropping your hands to your lap. For another moment you’re both quiet, just existing with each other, before Poe speaks again.
“Hey. Look at me.” His voice is heartbreakingly gentle, so much so that you lift your face to his. Soft, dark, eyes roam over your face, eyebrows furrowed seriously, mouth set in a determined line.
“Yes?”
There’s a pause as he continues searching your face, looking for something you can’t see in the reflection of his eyes. Finally, as if finding what he was looking for, he gathers his courage and says, “I’m in love with you. What do you think about that?”
Shock writes its way across your face. At the same time, something warm and light fills your chest, making its way through every corner of your body. The corners of your lips lift, “I think… I’m in love with you, too, Poe.”
A smile mirroring yours lights his face. He closes the small space between you immediately, lips fitting over yours like the final piece of a puzzle you’d been building since meeting him all those years ago. You kiss him fully, deeply, the already quiet room dissolving around you until it’s just you and Poe. Nothing else matters than the feeling of his lips on yours and the way his hand cups your jaw, pulling you closer than you thought possible.
When you finally part, gasping for air, your eyes meet his. Where moments ago there was pain, love and joy light his chocolate eyes; the smile on his face reaching all the way up to crinkle those little laugh lines around his eyes you love so much. His hand remains on your face, thumb wiping away the small tear that leaks from one eye.
“I couldn’t go another day without telling you.”
“I’m glad you didn’t.” You close your eyes and lean into his touch. Opening them again, you ask with a smile, “What took you so long?”
He laughs, putting his arms around you and bringing you into his embrace, “I was scared.”
The admission breaks your heart. With a squeeze around his torso, you say, “We can be scared together, now.”
“No one I’d rather be scared with.”
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Rating: This one is really for anyone, but the whole blog is 18+ ONLY
Excerpt: "For how long you'd spent in hyperspace, you'd never noticed how quiet it was. How cold it was. Streaking white and light blue stars used to blind you when you'd step into the cockpit; now they just dance over the various buttons and switches surrounding you and the Mandalorian sitting in front of you. The hum on the ship was the only sound as you stared at your companion, unwilling to be the first to break."
Warnings: Pretty sappy, self indulgent, emotional and fluffy. No real description of reader so fairly gender neutral!
Summary: Another long stint in hyperspace has everyone on the Crest feeling antsy. What else do you do with downtime other than play 20 Questions?
A/N: Another little dribble for celebrating 200 friends. Thank you to the best hype-person in the world @creatively-analytical for giving this a look! As always, love you all. Come say hi and let me know what you'd like to see!
"Come on, just tell me."
You and Mando had been in hyperspace for days. You'd read through both books on your holopad, he'd cleaned every weapon on the ship and reorganized the armory (twice), the Child had eaten every bit of the eggs that had been stowed away for long trips like this, and everyone was getting antsy. Something needed to happen to pass the time, so you picked the only game you thought might get you through the next few hours of travel: Twenty Questions.
The first couple rounds had been as expected. You asked Mando's favorite color ("don't see a lot of color in this helmet"), he asked you the first time you shot a blaster ("really?" "Yeah, you shoot well." "Who asks that?" "Weapons are part of my religion." "Fine, I was 11"), you asked him what his favorite bedtime story was as a kid ("I learned a lot about Mandalore before bed as a foundling." "Were they bedtime stories, though?" "They were enough for me"), and he asked you what your favorite color was ("I already asked you that." "But I haven't asked you yet." "Fine, dark colors").
The Child has fallen asleep in his little egg by this point, and Mando takes the lull in the conversation to gently tuck him in and close up the shell. Sitting in the opposite copilot chair, you adjust and tuck a leg under you, elbow resting on your curled knee and chin propped up on your hand. Mando had turned his chair around to face you during your game, the need to pilot rendered moot for the time the ship was on autopilot. After a moment, another question forms in your mind.
"What was your last dream about?"
Mando is silent for a moment, head cocked to the side in thought. Suddenly, his helmet snaps to you before trying to recover by studying a thread on his gloves. "I, uh, don't remember. Don't remember my dreams a lot."
"Mando, you might be the best bounty hunter in the galaxy, but you're the worst liar."
He continues messing with the microscopic flaw in his clothes, choosing silence to a verbal answer.
"Come on, just tell me."
For how long you'd spent in hyperspace, you'd never noticed how quiet it was. How cold it was. Streaking white and light blue stars used to blind you when you'd step into the cockpit; now they just dance over the various buttons and switches surrounding you and the Mandalorian sitting in front of you. The hum on the ship was the only sound as you stared at your companion, unwilling to be the first to break.
Mando sighs, the sound ghosting over your bones as if you could feel the air move around you. He slowly turns his helmet back to your face before saying,
"You."
The silence stretches, your eyes going wide at the confession. After a beat, you find your voice.
"Me?"
A nod.
"What about me?"
Mando shakes his head, "It was nothing."
"Mando…"
Another sigh. "It was nothing. Just a dream."
You continue to stare at him. What started as a silly game to pass the time has evolved into something deeper. Something weighted. At the same time, it felt fragile as glass. Like if you moved too quickly or spoke too loud it would shatter. So you choose to match his silence.
"You aren't going to let this go, are you?"
You shake your head with a small smile. "If it wasn't an interesting answer, you would've told me by now so we could move on."
Even though you can't see his eyes, you know he's looking at you. Assessing. Deciding. After another moment, he begins speaking.
"Do you remember the stop we had to stop on Esso?"
You nod, again favoring Mando's trademark silence so as to not rustle the moment.
"We were there. We emerged from the forest and you got a glimpse of the ocean…"
You remembered what he was talking about. You'd seen oceans before, but nothing like what was sitting in front of you in that moment. Huge, and alive, waves creating and receding back from whence they came, always changing and moving. The roar was nearly deafening, but it was a sound you never wanted to live without again. You're lost in the memory when Mando's voice winds back into your mind.
"I was dreaming about the look on your face. It was so… Unguarded. Full of wonder and joy at something most people take for granted. It made me feel…"
He trails off, setting your heart racing. "It made you feel what?"
After a pause, Mando surges forward to kneel before you. His hands, encased in leather, reach up to rest on your bended knee. His head is tipped to you, your face reflected in the inky blackness of his visor.
"It made me feel awake."
Tears begin to form in your eyes as you watch him spill admissions below you. He continues before you get a chance to speak.
"That's why I was dreaming about it. That moment… Stirred something in me. I've dreamed about it so many times since then because I realized I want to make you feel that way at every opportunity. I want to see that look on your face every day."
The tears flow freely now as you uncurl your leg from beneath you and slide forward off your seat. Knee to knee with Mando, you place your hands on his chest plate and hold his gaze.
"I never thought… never dreamed… that you would feel this way for me, Mando. I never wanted to hope that the feelings I have for you you'd return because I didn't want to get hurt, to ruin what we have because I'd rather have this friendship than lose you entirely."
You feel his breathing hike as you whisper these secrets to him. His hand reaches to wipe the tears from your cheeks and you lean into the touch, closing your eyes and breathing in his smell.
"Mando," you begin before he interrupts:
"Din. My name is Din."
The weight of what he just told you settles in the air and your eyes widen. His name…
"Din?" You ask, tentatively, lifting your hands to take his.
He nods, humming his response.
"Din." You respond with more confidence. The shiver that shoots through him betrays his stoic outer shell and, for the first time, you see the man below the beskar. The man who's always running, never showing any humanity for fear of it being taken away from him. The lonely man, with a heart too big for the metal it's been so long encased. The secret dreamer, who finally took a chance for him rather than for those around him. You wouldn't let that chance be in vain.
"You've already given me more than I ever thought I'd have in my life. You've made my life bigger than I dreamed possible. I'd follow you through Wild Space to the Unknown if you asked."
He leans down to rest the crest of his helmet against your forehead. His fingers untangle from yours, hands coming to gently rest on both sides of your face. His thumbs rub soft lines over your cheekbones, fingers lightly pressing into your flesh as if to convince himself you're here and real.
Whispering again, you lean into his touch and say, "I'm yours, however you want me, Din."
A choked laugh escapes him and he pulls you to his chest. You squeeze your arms around him, both of you locked in this embrace on the floor of the cockpit.
Hyperspace is still quiet, but no longer cold. The lights streaming by are the stars you've wished on since you were a child, now celebrating this wish come true. And this Mandalorian, your Mandalorian, holds you in his arms as the galaxy around you becomes inconsequential.
PAIRING: Poe Dameron x fem!Reader, modern!AU (part of the No More Wasted Time universe)
WORD COUNT: 2.3k
RATING: E (minors, shoo)
EXCERPT: "Opening the door, you see Poe standing there with his phone to his ear. A smile is indeed spread across his face, a bag of takeout in his free hand. 'Thought I could help with the dinner part?'"
WARNINGS: Smut, fluff, domestic bliss, no beta reader (whoops), unprotected p-in-v sex (wrap it up irl please)
PROMPT: I don't want to give anything away, but prompt credit to @creativepromptsforwriting, specifically this one. 💖
A/N: We're a year to the day of writing fanfiction here on tumblr dot com! Thank you to EVERYONE who has been here for the ride, whether that's from day one or you're new to this little corner of the internet. I wish I could more accurately put into words what this year has meant to me, but I can't express enough gratitude or love for the people I've met doing. I love being here, I love all of you, and I hope the next year of this writing journey bring exactly what this year brought me: you. 💖
Spring was warm around town and the flowers on your balcony were finally starting to bloom. Weeks of bringing them inside when the nights dipped precariously towards freezing, carefully watering and fertilizing on a schedule, and whatever else the only app you paid money for told you to do was starting to pay off. The small buds of green with hints of pinks and reds and yellows peeking through promise new beginnings.
Coming home late from work one day, you unlock the door and bump it open with a hip, hands full of grocery bags. You drop them unceremoniously on the kitchen island and close the door behind you. Breathing a sigh of relief, you begin putting the groceries away when your phone starts buzzing across the counter.
Scrambling to catch it before it jumps onto the floor, you smile as Poe’s contact picture comes up. “Hey, baby!”
“Hey sweetheart,” his voice filters through the phone, “What are you up to?”
“I just got home,” you respond, bringing your shoulder up to hold the phone to your ear, freeing your hands up to continue opening the fridge to shove vegetables and other perishables into their places before shutting the door again. “Unfortunately, I have to go back to work in a couple of hours.”
“You’ve been working your ass off the last couple of weeks, are you sure you can’t take the night off?”
“I’m sorry, love,” you stop moving and sigh, leaning against the counter, “you know I’d so much rather spend tonight with you but I’m so close to finishing this project…”
“I know, it’s okay.” A smile creeps into his voice, “You said you have to go back in a couple of hours?”
A knock sounds at your door and you push yourself off the counter, “I’ve got just long enough to eat dinner and maybe take a power nap.”
Opening the door, you see Poe standing there with his phone to his ear. A smile is indeed spread across his face, a bag of takeout in his free hand. “Thought I could help with the dinner part?”
“Poe,” you laugh, hanging up the phone and slipping it into your pocket, “How’d you know?”
He shrugs and walks through the doorway, putting his phone away and wrapping an arm around you, “I know my girl.”
“Yeah you do,” you smile and press a kiss to his lips. “Come on, I’m starving.”
You both fall into the comfortable routine of getting the table ready for dinner. Food is put on plates, silverware grabbed and drinks poured. Once all the commotion dies down, you and Poe are seated and companionable silence falls over the room.
“So what’s this big project you have going on?” Poe asks before slurping noodles off his plate.
You laugh at the noise and respond, “We have this anal-retentive client who has asked us to redo the structure of his contract three or four times before signing off on a big event we’re organizing for his company and the event is next week.” You pause for a drink of water before continuing, “I’m in charge of communication between his company and the other businesses that will be attending, so getting them enough notice and organizing guest lists and catering and ugh… It’s been a nightmare.”
“Sounds like you don’t get paid enough.”
“With all the overtime I’ve been clocking, I’ll be able to take a nice vacation in a couple of months, so it’s all worth it.” A smile pulls at your lips, “Wanna go somewhere warm and sunny?”
“Mmm, I like the sound of that.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you across the table. “You deserve a break.”
“And I’ll get one,” you promise, taking another bite and glancing at your watch, “I promise, I’ll take a long weekend next weekend after the event.”
“Good. Now, about this vacation.” He puts down his fork and leans back in his chair, “We could make it a special trip.”
“What’d you have in mind?”
“Oh I don’t know,” he rubs his chin, “Somewhere we could lay on the beach, rent a little private bungalow…”
“Oooh, yeah! And go snorkeling?”
“Whatever you want, sweetheart.” He flashes you a crooked smile while you finish the last bit of your food.
Plopping your napkin onto your plate, you stand and clear the plates from the table, heading to the kitchen to dump them in the sink. “We could plan it for June?”
“June sounds great,” Poe responds. He watches you as you go about getting ready to head back to work.
“I’ll have to get a new bathing suit, maybe a couple of sundresses,” you throw over your shoulder heading into your bedroom. He follows you, stopping just inside the doorway.
“Something white?” Poe suggests, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed.
“Something white?” You ask, turning away from your closet to face him, eyebrows scrunching in confusion. “Why white?”
“That might be what makes this vacation special.” His voice has softened, but his gaze burns into yours. “Just you and me, maybe an officiant…”
Comprehension begins bubbling in your stomach. “That sounds a lot like a marriage proposal,” you whisper, eyes never leaving his from across the room.
“Maybe it is,” he responds. He steps toward you, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a black velvet box as he drops to one knee.
It’s small, but you’ve never seen something demand so much attention. It’s impossible not to stare as he opens it, hinges creaking as a gorgeous ring is revealed. Smaller stones surround the centerpiece, delicate details along the band catching the breath from your lungs. Looking from the ring to the man holding the box, tears begin to flood your eyes.
He whispers your name like a prayer before asking: “Will you marry me?”
Barely letting him finish the question, you close the space between you and drop to the floor to kiss him, laughing and stuttering over your words. “Of course, I will,” you manage to finally answer, tears sparkling in your eyes.
He kisses you deeply again before plucking the ring from the box. With reverence, he slips the ring on your finger and kisses each knuckle on your left hand. “I bought this the day after you moved back home and I’ve wanted to give it to you ever since.”
“We’ve only known each other for a few decades at this point, Dameron, what took you so long?” You tease him, nuzzling your nose against his.
He playfully nips at you and laughs, “Can you blame me for being a little nervous?”
“No, I guess I can’t...” You shift to look directly into his eyes, “But I probably would’ve said yes, even then.”
He smiles again, pure joy radiating from every plane of his face. “Good to know my nerves really were for nothing, then.”
The shine from your hand pulls your attention and you admire the ring now adorning your finger. Holding your hand out in front of your face, you wiggle your fingers and giggle as the weight begins to become familiar. All you can think when you finally tear your gaze away from your hand and find Poe’s eyes is how much you love him. How much stronger you feel when you’re near him.
How he’s always felt like home.
“I love you,” you whisper, not caring that you’re both still on the floor of your room. Not caring that you said you had to go back to work tonight. “And now I get to love you forever.”
He grabs your hand and stands, pulling you onto your feet and wrapping you in his arms. You stand like this for a moment before he replies, “A year ago, I thought I had lost you.” He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck placing tender kisses along your skin between each sentence. “I thought some other guy was going to get to wake up to you every morning. I thought I had missed my chance to give you everything you deserve…” He gently kisses up the column of your throat before hovering over your lips, “I don’t know what I did to get a second chance, but I’ll never take it for granted.” He finally brings his lips to yours, crashing into you with the passion and fire you’ve only ever gotten from him.
Of their own accord, your hands reach up and grab his shirt, pulling him with you as your feet inch backward toward the bed. Once your calves hit the mattress, you sink down into the soft covers and plush pillows and Poe follows without ever breaking the kiss.
He does eventually pull away and you lay there for a moment, side by side, just staring into each other’s eyes. You lean in and softly kiss him again before saying, “I love you, Poe.”
You’re nearly reduced to tears again by the love shining in his eyes when you pull away. Lines crinkle along his lips and eyes as he smiles, brighter than the sun. “I love you, sweetheart. More than I’ve ever loved anyone.”
His words fill your chest with warmth. He leans in and kisses your forehead, breathing in the natural scent that surrounds you. He pulls you close to his chest and starts kissing you again; more intensely this time. His hands hold and caress your body with reverence, massaging love with his fingers into every inch of your skin. Your hands rest on his chest, grabbing his shirt again and pulling him as close to you as he can.
“Poe,” you sigh into his lips, with no other reason than to just say his name. He smiles at the sound.
“I love you,” he whispers again, sending his hand down between your legs. A smile spreads over your face and a simmer begins in your belly at the movement. Giving him permission, you hang your leg over his hip to give him access to your still-clothed center. Like a switch flipped, he wastes no time unbuttoning the front of your pants and sliding his fingers between your skin and the waistband of your underwear.
He circles your clit a few times before diving into your heated core, drawing your pleasure almost immediately to a peak. His pace is unrelenting and your hands fly to his arms, desperately grabbing his shifting muscles and nails digging into tan flesh. A breathy whine escapes your throat as your eyes flutter close. He’s patient; working his hand unfailingly while his lips never leave yours. A rock in the storm of your building climax, you clench your hands in his shirt as your walls begin to flutter around his fingers.
Poe breaks away from your lips and buries his face under yours to bite down on the soft skin where your shoulder meets your neck, sending you hurtling over the edge. Your body shudders next to his, the only thought in your mind and word on your lips is his name over and over again.
As you catch your breath, you loosen your grip on his shirt and reach down to shimmy your pants all the way off. All whispers and breathy moans of love and adoration, Poe frees himself from his jeans and kicks them off the end of the bed, hooking your leg back over his hip and nudging your sensitive entrance with his cock. Still impossibly slick from your initial release, he slips inside you with ease.
“Ask me again,” you whisper, eyes locking with his as your bodies join.
Always on the same page, the love of your life stares back at you, worship pouring from his very soul when he asks, “Will you marry me?”
“Yes,” you sigh, eyes closing as he slowly fills you.
“Say it again,” he pants, lusciously dragging back out.
“Yes,” you respond, head falling to his collarbone. You latch your lips to the skin there, nipping and kissing a trail up his neck toward his ear. Just as you open your mouth to speak, he tips his hips back up and steals the breath from your lungs, leaving your open mouth in a whine.
He groans as you clench around him, the emotion of the moment sending you racing toward another release. He wraps you tight in his arms, picking up the pace. The second before your second orgasm takes you, your ankle traps his hips into you and you shatter, stars dancing across your vision as Poe falls apart with you. Your bodies stay entwined for long enough that you begin to drift, warm and safe in your lover’s arms.
His lips on yours bring you back to your body and you kiss him back, sweet as honey. Both of you wear blissful smiles as you open your eyes to his glittering gaze.
“Hey you,” he whispers, voice husky.
“Hey,” you giggle back.
“How’s my fiancee doing” He croons, nuzzling his nose against yours.
“Mmm,” you get your left arm free and wiggle your fingers as much as you can in the small space between your bodies, “wonderful.”
“Me too,” he chuckles. He removes himself from you but doesn’t go far. “Do you still have to go back to work tonight?” He asks with a playful pout.
You laugh, cupping his face and running your thumb along his full lips, “Nah, there are much more important things I need to do tonight.”
He smiles under your touch and kisses your finger, “Like what?”
“Let’s see,” your eyes shine as you pull his bottom lip down. He opens his mouth enough for your thumb to slip between his teeth. His lips close and his tongue swirls over the pad of the digit and a low moan vibrates through his body. “I have some ideas,” you finish with a whisper.
Within seconds, work is completely forgotten about as you and your fiance lose yourselves all over again, more than content to spend the rest of the night, the rest of your lives, wrapped up in each other.
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