Poe Dameron- He Is A Baby

Poe Dameron- He is a baby

Content: Thoughts on a sick day with Poe, fluffy and suggestive (~600 words)

-------------

Poe Dameron is a giant, inconsolable baby when he is sick. You have to take the day off to take care of him because even though his words say, "I'm fine, please, sweetheart, go to work." His expressive eyes say, "do not abandon me because I am dying."

He is not dying. He will be fine.

He doesn't want the soup you bring him. He doesn’t want the hot tea with slices of fruit. He wants you and only you.

He wants to wrap his too-hot body around yours. He pulls you close to his clammy skin, clothes long abandoned during a feverish nap earlier in the day. In his sleep, he tugged at yours until you’re naked too. He finds every cool spot on your body with his hands and arms and legs, and overheats it.

Poe is always loving, but when he is sick, he is needy. He is also dead weight, his leg slung over you, arms wrapped around your body.

You fall asleep too, despite not even being sick. He’s just so hot that it’s like being folded into a warm cocoon. He hums gently as he sleeps and by evening, his body is back to its normal temperature, still warm but not a burning hot fire. 

He kisses your neck, still wrapping you in his body, the big spoon to your little one. You wake up.

“Feeling better?” You ask.

“Yeah,” he finds your hands with his and holds onto them. His voice is still a little raspy. “Thanks for putting up with me.”

You smile and squeeze his hands. “I didn’t really have a choice. You’ve been holding me hostage for like, six hours.”

“And I plan to keep you here for another eight to ten.” He nuzzles your neck, gently scratching your skin with the scruff he was too sick to shave off this morning. “Baby?”

Your eyes close as his lips trace along your skin, but you know exactly what Poe's thinking with that tone of voice.

“You thought you were dying three hours ago,” you remind him.

“We have something worth celebrating then.” He nips at the skin of your neck. “We can make up for the time we lost with me being sick.”

“Lost time?” You laugh.

“We spent all day in bed and we have nothing to show for it. It’s criminal.”

You shift your weight, turning to face him. You study his face, then lay the back of your hand over his forehead. “How are you fine all of a sudden?”

He shrugs. “Always been like that. As long as I can sleep it off, I’m not usually sick for more than a day. And when I have someone gorgeous to keep me company, I’m feeling better within a few hours.”

“Poe?”

“Yeah?” He busies himself kissing your shoulders and collarbone.

You brush your hand over his hair. “Why don’t you go take a shower first? You were all sweaty and gross.”

“Counteroffer. We shower together.” His hair tickles your face.

You smile and push his head off of your neck to look at him. “While you shower, I’m going to run out to the hangar quick, check on a few things, and by the time you’re done, I promise, I’ll be back here in bed waiting for you.”

“No way. I think you’re sick now too. You should definitely take the day off tomorrow.” He snuggles his mouth back against your neck, working his way up to tease your earlobe. “And it’s only fair I stay home and take care of you.”

**Poe Dameron Masterlist** *masterlist*

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

Poe Dameron- He's Mean- Part 1

Summary: It's in the title, people! Is this too long for just being angsty drama? *shrug*

Content: mean Poe, oc (secondary character), enemies to maybe more than friends (~2,100 words)

---------------------

As soon as your boots hit the ground, Commander Dameron is on you like a fat roll on a Hutt.

He’s gripping his helmet in one hand, gesturing to you. Your back is still at the ladder you used to descend out of the cockpit and he is close, too close, and speaking very loudly.

“If I give you an order to wave off, then you will wave off. Is that understood?” You see him swallow, his deep, soulful eyes full of anger. 

With Commander Dameron you either get this, or a dismissive look that says you should not be in his breathing space.

“I couldn’t break formation, Commander,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, but Maker, he is in a mood.

“That was not a standard formation,” he yells. “I thought Blue Leader would have taught you better.”

Behind him, Blue Leader, who you’ve known for years despite her only recently transferring here, steps up to him. “Talking shit about me, Dameron?”

His jaw tightens. “Jallea, tell your pilot she’s flying like a cadet and not like someone fourth in line for command of a squadron.”

A small crowd has formed within ear-shot to hear Commander Dameron, who’s not usually a fan of rules, reprimand someone in public.

Jallea’s eyes widen. “You fly like an insane person, Poe, and you’re the best we have. So, I don’t think you’re in a position to criticize my pilot.”

He bites back a sigh. “Fine. Just, don’t get in my way next time,” he says to you.

“I was nowhere near you, Commander,” you say.

His eyes cut back to yours. “You’re a liability to the Resistance.”

Everyone’s breath stops short. You immediately want to cry, which is embarrassing. You’re used to this side of Commander Dameron, but even for him…

Sensing the mood he’s created, Poe stalks off through the hangar and disappears into the hallway.

Your body goes almost numb, almost fades away to nothing. Or at least that’s what it feels like.

“I’ve only been stationed here for a couple of weeks, but I really thought Poe Dameron would be different,” Jallea says, in friend-mode now and not Blue Leader-mode. “I’d heard-“

“It’s me,” you say quickly. “We had a misunderstanding when I first got here.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Why don’t you tell me about it on our way to the debrief?”

You hand your helmet and flight gear off to one of the hangar droids. “Nothing to tell really. I was top of my class in flight school and was assigned to Black Squadron.”

“So you knew Dameron? He usually gets to pick his own squad.”

“That was the problem,” you say as you walk together. “He was ordered to take me on. The first time we flew together, he was on my ass about every little thing. I found out he’d been trying to dump me on other squadrons before I’d even gotten here.”

Jallea winces.

“Yeah,” you agree. “I’m sure you’ll get along with him fine. Everyone does.”

There’s a lump in your throat as you walk by his x-wing. 

She leans in and squeezes you. “I think you’re a badass pilot. Your maneuvering is better than mine and you always keep it clean out there.”

“Thanks,” you say with an unconvincing smile.

“Maybe Poe’s just-“

“Mean,” you say. “He’s mean.”

————

That night, exhausted as much from your day as from the verbal beating you’d taken in the hangar, you stay in. You’re in bed, scrolling through an old flight manual when there was a buzz at your door.

You get up and open it. And freeze.

“Commander Dameron,” you say, trying to recover, “is everything okay? I didn’t hear an alert.”

You look down the empty corridor behind him, folding your arms when you see that everything is normal.

“No alert,” he says. He’s not smiling or friendly, but he’s clearly cooled off from earlier. He seems a little awkward, which makes you feel awkward. “I just stopped by to apologize.”

You stare at each other for a moment.

“Apology accepted, Commander” you say.

He smiles joylessly. “When you use my rank like that, it kind of makes me think you’re just accepting out of duty.”

You shrug, agreeing with his assessment.

He smiles and you hear him exhale softly. “I guess I deserve that. Look, I didn’t mean what I said. Of course you’re not,” he almost stutters, “you’re not a liability to the Resistance.”

You know he’s telling the truth and that he feels bad. You drop your arms.

“Thank you. Apology accepted.” Your mouth softens out of its stiff frown. “For real this time.”

“Poe,” he says.

“Poe.” You say.

He looks down the hallway, then turns back to you as if he’s going to say more. You wait.

“Have a good night,” he says and abruptly walks away, leaving the scent of his leather jacket and something… you shut your door against it. Something distracting, something your body reacts to, something you should not be thinking about.

—————————

For days afterward, you avoid Poe. You can tell he’s doing the same. Easy to do since a wave of First Order ships is cruising too close to the planet and every available pilot and fighter had to be out around the clock.

It’s demanding, draining, and rewarding.

Another mission down, you climb out of your x-wing and as soon as your boots touch the ground, Poe is there.

You brace yourself, but he actually has a slight smile on his face. “That was good flying today,” he says.

You squint at him. “Is this a trick?”

He laughs, his dark eyes happy to be looking at you for a change. “No.”

There’s something about seeing him laugh, a beautiful side of him everyone else gets to see, but never you. It hurts. You’re not ready to think about why that might be.

You drop the smile that had started to form on your face. “Thank you, Commander. Excuse me, I have to report some things to maintenance.”

“Is everything good with your x-wing?” He does a cursory look at your craft.

“Yes, just a few routine fixes.”

You can’t really be doing this, right? Standing here, having a normal conversation with Poe Dameron.

“Have a good afternoon,” you say to him. 

He opens his mouth to say something, but you walk away quickly. People look at you, probably disappointed they didn’t get a chance to see you get a slap on the wrist again.

After you make your report you duck back into the hangar. You know everyone will be in the mess hall or out celebrating. Which makes it a perfect time to do a little work, unbothered.

You change into your work clothes, already oil-stained from the last time you were out here, and pick up a set of tools. You have one side panel off and are working on a second when you smell him. His x-wing is on the far side of the hangar, though. Weird.

“Aren’t you celebrating with us?”

You turn when you hear Poe’s voice behind you. Maker, he’s handsome, even in the too-bright lights of the hangar. It’s like you can’t even look directly at him.

You automatically scan his face, but he looks like the normal, friendly version of himself. It unsettles you a little.

“I’ll be out when I’m done here,” you say, which is a lie.

“That’s a lie.”

Damn.

You point to the wiring you’re working on. “Probably, but I need to reroute some of these, in case I need a power boost and some things, I only trust myself to do. Have a good night, Commander.” You turn back to him, waiting for him to leave.

“Poe,” he corrects you. 

You say nothing, but you can feel him still standing there.

You start to strip some of the wiring, distracted now. You turn your head.

“Still here,” he says.

But why? You don’t want to ask. He’s probably waiting for you to make a mistake so he can gloat about it.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him shrug out of his jacket and toss it aside. He rolls up his sleeves, Maker save you, and walks next to you. He puts his hand next to yours, steadying the spot you’re working on to make it easier for you.

You withdraw your hands.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

He scratches the stubble on his jaw. “I thought I was helping you.”

You take a half-step back. He sighs.

“Look, your idea’s good. I actually did something similar to mine. You have to clip these and then bundle them all together. It’ll go faster if I’m here. Then we can go celebrate.” He smiles.

He actually smiles. The smile he has when he’s talking to someone he wants to be talking to.

Sensing your feelings, he takes his hands off your x-wing. “I’ve been thinking,” he says, clearly still doing so. Or maybe he’s just considering his words to you for once. “I don’t want to make excuses for myself, but when you were supposed to transfer under my command, I was going through some things. You would’ve been replacing someone I was friends with. Someone I considered a sister. And I took it out on you. I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t know that,” you say, knowing what happened without him saying the words. “I’m sorry.”

He nods. “We lose a lot of people. Which, in theory, means I should appreciate the ones who are still here, right?” He smiles, a little sad. “You look like you’re waiting for me to add something negative. I’m not going to do that anymore.”

“Honestly, I find that difficult to believe.”

“Luckily, I’m very charming,” he teases you.

“I’ve seen that, but don’t worry about me. As long as we can keep it professional, then we can call it a truce.” You give him a thin smile.

“About that.” He scratches his head, messing up his hair a little bit. “I meant what I said, that was very good flying today. I know Jallea is your mentor, but if you ever want to branch out, learn to play a little less by the books, let me know.”

You bite back the ‘no’ on the tip of your tongue. It would be rude after such a nice apology. But you both know you’d never accept.

“I can have you transferred, temporarily,” he offers.

Your eyes widen.

“Maybe that’s not such a good idea,” he says with a sigh. “I was planning on talking about this over drinks, but you never showed.”

“That’s okay,” you reassure him, “you don’t want to bring business into a party.”

“It’s not all business,” he smiles. “I do want to have a drink with you.”

You clear your throat, thinking. “Thank you for telling me about your friend, and for your help. But I promise you, that’s enough. Frankly, I would settle for you completely ignoring me.”

His eyes glance over you. “You’re impossible to ignore.”

“Just give it a try. Maybe it’s easier than you think,” you smile.

You knew how to hold yourself fast against his anger or derision. But whatever he wants from you now, you don’t know how to defend against it. His piloting skills are nothing compared to his personal gravity. Poe is drawing you in and he knows it.

His gaze drops to your lips. “Come have a drink with me.”

“No,” this time you let yourself say it, your heart racing.

“I expected that,” he says. He bends down and picks up his jacket, holding it in his hands. “But if I see a request for you to fly with Black Squadron, consider it approved.”

“Thank you,” you say. He thinks you’re a liability, you remind yourself.

“And there’s a drink waiting for you, on me,” he smiles at you, “always.”

“Right. Thank you.”

His eyes search yours. “It doesn’t have to be at the cantina. It could just be us. We could sit outside, or I know a quiet spot here.”

“You don’t have to,” you say awkwardly, “I mean, I’m going to be working on this for the rest of the night.”

He reaches out his hand, rubs his fingers over your arm. “You had some dirt or something,” he smiles at you, then looks at your x-wing again. “Are you really not going to let me help you with this?”

“I’m really not,” you say, “but thank you for the offer. All of the offers.”

“You’re going to take me up on them.” He puts his jacket back on. “Every one.”

He holds your gaze for a moment before leaving the hangar. He looks back at you before he heads outside, you can tell he’s smiling even from this distance. You wave at him.

You’re halfway through your repairs when it dawns on you.

Was Poe Dameron flirting with you?

Part 2 here

Poe Dameron- He's Mean- Part 2

part 1 here

Summary: Poe has been nicer lately, too nice, but flying with you seems to bring out his old critical self. This time, his apology to you is more personal.

Content: angsty fighting, kissing and making out

------------

Flying under Black Leader was supposed to be fun. Thrilling. A pleasure.

But you’d been forced into the whole thing.

Poe Dameron had made good on his promise to not be an insufferable prick anymore. Or rather, he was insufferable in a different way. He was professional, giving you tips after flights, aligning his work hours with yours, just looking at you.

When Black Squadron needed an extra pilot for a short mission, you weren’t surprised to see your name on the schedule with them. But it doesn’t make it any easier. It was nerves. It had to be. It couldn’t be anything else. 

It had nothing to do with the way he flirted you that night in the hangar last week. He probably wasn’t flirting anyway. That’s just the way Poe Dameron apologizes. Flirting is like breathing to him.

Your hands are sweating in your gloves as you fly in formation. You haven’t been this nervous since your first flight in an x-wing. You tried to focus on your strengths, your skills, and not Poe’s voice over the comms.

“Blue Four, fly closer to me, keep up.”

“Copy, Black Leader”

Poe goes over today’s mission as you make your way to your destination. 

You’re the focal point. Which means complicated maneuvering and drawing fire while the rest of the squadron makes run after run to destroy a small First Order outpost.

It’s the most responsibility you’ve ever had as a pilot. It’s not beyond your capabilities, but it’s a stretch. 

It’s a test.

And somewhere between entering the planet’s atmosphere and skimming over the ocean to reach the tower, the old, critical Commander Dameron comes back.

Even as he leads the attack, he asks you to make constant adjustments. Things he would do, but you wouldn’t. To break right when you would break left. To draw fire lower when you would go higher.

He’s in charge, so you do. But it gnaws at your confidence.

When you land back at base, it’s your turn to find Poe. To launch yourself out of your x-wing, down the ladder, stride across the hangar to him. 

“Why did you even make me go out there today if you wanted me to fly like your droid?” You yell at him.

He takes off his helmet, his dark curls messy as he shakes his head with a startled look on his face.

“I’m sorry,” he says, but it sounds more like a question than a statement.

“You tried to control every move I made.”

“That’s not-“

“No, don’t argue with me. That’s exactly what happened. You think I can’t handle it? You think I’m not good enough? Still a liability to the Resistance?” You shove your helmet at his chest. He grips it and you back away from him. “I can’t do this.”

You walk out, pushing past the circle of people who just watched you yell at a senior officer, at a legend. He follows you, asking you to slow down and wait for him.

But you can’t. You don’t want to see his face again, as attractive as it is. 

You practically run to your quarters, unzipping your flightsuit and tying the arms around your waist. You feel hot with anger and the tears that you’re struggling to keep in.

You stomp into your room, turning when the door doesn’t close behind you.

“Unbelievable,” you say, wiping your face.

Poe stands in your doorway. He puts his hands up. “I just want to talk. Will you give me just one conversation? Please.”

“Don’t look at me with those big, brown eyes trying to act all innocent,” you fold your arms.

He grins. “I can’t help it. I look how I look. You know, you’ve never yelled back at me before. It was kind of,” his sentence trails off and he makes an effort to wipe the smile off his face when he sees you’re still angry. 

He takes a few steps into your room, the door sliding shut behind him.

“What do you want, Poe?”

He looks thoughtful. He rubs the scruff of his chin. The raspy sound fills your room. “I’m sorry. I’m not usually the kind of leader who manages things so closely. I like improvisation. Especially from a pilot as good as you.”

“You make me dizzy, Poe. Make up your mind. Do you hate me or not?”

His eyes widen in surprise. “I never hated you. But, I have to be careful with you.” 

He walks over and sits down at the edge of your bunk. It’s disquieting to see him there. You’ll probably still be able to smell him later when you go to bed.

He pats the spot next to him. You walk over and sit down.

“When you first got here, it’s true, I didn’t want you flying with me. And then I was pissed because I saw how good you were. I don’t like being wrong.”

“Oh wow, I couldn’t tell,” you say sarcastically.

He smiles softly. “And the better I saw you were, the madder I got at myself. And the madder I got at myself, the more I thought that it wasn’t just anger I was feeling.”

He looks at you and then cups the back of your neck with his hand, his thumb brushing behind your ear. 

“You’re not a liability to the Resistance,” he says. “You’re a liability to me. Instead of focusing on the mission today, I was focusing on what I thought would keep you from dying. I tried to cancel the whole thing, but the general, well, she set me straight.”

His hand is so big and warm against your skin. It’s comforting in a way you hadn’t even considered possible. 

You reach up and curl your fingers around his wrist, pulling his hand away from you. It looks like it pains him to stop touching you.

“I’m not flying with you again, Poe,” you say with a sigh.

“It’ll take time.”

You shake your head. “No, you don’t understand. I put in a transfer request.”

His eyes flash, surprise and hurt edged with that temper he seems to have around you. “I’m personally denying that request.”

You smile a little bit. “You’re not my commanding officer, nor are you in command of this base.”

He takes a breath, a beat to compose himself. For once, whatever harsh thing he wants to say in the moment doesn’t come out. 

“You’re right. But I am Poe Dameron.” He grins. “Generally speaking, I get what I want.”

You slide back slightly from the heat of his body next to you on your bunk. “You don’t know what you want.”

His head tilts a fraction. “You might be right. So why don’t we start with what you want?”

You had no idea where to even start with that. “I used to want your respect.”

“You have it,” he looks at you carefully, “and anything else you want from me.”

You stand up, just to get away from him, before you start to cave or flirt or wish.

He unzips his flight suit to the waist, making himself more comfortable.

“Got anything to drink in here?” He asks.

You lean against the small counter that serves as your kitchen. After a moment, you reach into the cupboard underneath and pull out a bottle of ale. 

“My uncles make this back on my home planet.” You take off the cap and walk over to hand it to him.

He takes it with a smile, lifts it to you. “Cheers.” He sips it, winces, clears his throat.

“It’s strong,” you say.

“Yeah, got that.” He passes the bottle back to you and you take a sip.

He tugs at your wrist until you sit down next to him again. He doesn’t let go of you, instead running his hand along your arm, a gentle massage that makes your whole body feel hot. You stay like that for awhile, passing the ale back and forth in silence.

Eventually, you set the empty bottle on your nightstand. You’re hoping he’ll leave and praying he’ll stay.

The alcohol in your family’s ale doesn’t affect you much anymore, but now, sitting here with Poe, you feel a little lighter, a little like you could make a bad decision very easily.

“I think we could make a good team,” he says.

“I already told you, I’m not flying with you again.”

He shakes his head. “Not out there. Here.”

Before you can process what he means, his mouth is on yours. You kiss him back, can’t help it. He tastes familiar. Not only because he was drinking something you know so well. There’s just something about him that feels right, like he’s already part of you.

His hand skims down your body, his weight shifts forward until you find yourself laying back on the bed, Poe settled between your legs. Your tongue is deep inside of his mouth, your hands squeezing his ass as he grinds against you.

His mouth moves to your neck, sucking mercilessly on the delicate skin. He moans as he marks you. His hands are everywhere, exploring, removing your clothes, pulling things aside to get to your skin. 

He runs his hand down your leg where it’s wrapped around him. You feel him start to unlace your boots.

“Wait, wait, Poe.” You’re panting, scrambling to recover your thoughts.

“Hmm?” He hums against your pulse at the base of your neck. He licks it, completely distracting you once again. You arch into him as he lifts his head to look at you. “What is it?” He says.

To your complete embarrassment, you feel tears well up in your eyes. He goes still. His hand comes up to stroke your cheek.

You shut your eyes hard. They’re dry again when you open them. Poe is looking down at you like you might break in his hands. Like you’re this delicate thing that he cares about. That he loves.

“Please don’t ask me to leave,” he says before you can even speak. “I can’t.”

He runs his thumb back and forth over your cheekbone, his weight bracing on his elbows and on the center of you, where he’s pressed against you tightly.

He’s clearly waiting for you to speak, but there’s a lump in your throat where your voice should be. Like your brain is at a crossroads and paralyzed by the choices in front of you.

“This all must seem pretty sudden to you,” he says, “but it’s not to me. And if you need me to go slowly, I will. Whatever you need.”

He kisses you again, deeply, thoroughly, until your muscles relax and you know your choice has been made. 

He rests his forehead against yours, his eyes watching yours and his breath warm and musky against your mouth.

“I think,” you say thoughtfully, “I need you.”

His eyes close briefly and he exhales. “Thank the Maker.” He smiles. “I thought you were going to kick me out.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” You smile and lean your head up to kiss him. “I’m not that mean.”

part 1 here

**Poe Dameron Masterlist** *masterlist*

petition to start writing more soulmate AUs ? I MISS THEM SO MUCH 😫😫😫💔💔 I know they're all cliche or angsty but PLEASEEEE 🙏🙏🙏 IVE ALREADY READ ALMOST ALL OF EM BUT THE MOST RECENT ONES ARE FOR A YR OR 2 AGO 😭

While we’re on the subject on inclusivity:

Inclusivity in your mood boards is just as important as inclusivity in the fic itself. Please try to include poc and curvy images in your mood boards as well! Please!

Your moodboard is the introduction to your story and sets the mood and the vibe. When you only have skinny white girls in your moodboards, you’re communicating a message that’s all who you thought of while writing and that’s the only type who is attractive and desirable to the characters. Poc deserve to feel seen too and feel like they were thought of while writing. Especially so when you’re writing for characters of color!

You don’t even have to use *only* poc or curvy pictures for your mood boards. Including different skin tones to show that you made the effort is much appreciated. You could also use shadow images or fully blacked out silhouettes to hide the skin tone altogether. There are plenty of resources and images out there that you should be able to find more than just skinny white girls. I know is it takes a little extra digging but it’s very much worth it to show inclusivity!

I know Pinterest is the bane of image finding, but it can be a good resource to find poc images. Just search (whatever aesthetic you’re looking for) + dark skin or person of color or something similar and you’ll find plenty of images. And the more you save the more images will show up in your feed. I constantly collect images to have references later when I need them.

Unsplash is another good resource to find poc models and images. And there’s also models of color pages right here on tumblr! There are resources out there it just takes a little effort to find the right images!

And as an ending note: using only skinny white girls in your mood board and then putting a disclaimer like “images do not represent reader they’re just fitting the aesthetic” isn’t the work around you think it is. I understand it’s not done in purpose and you most likely don’t realize it, but saying that says poc don’t fit your aesthetic and it’s still alienating and hurtful. Just something to keep in mind.