Star Wars Guys x Reader

Mi Amor: Poe Dameron x Reader

A/N: poe had a good time busting an imperial base somewhere so he went to the bar to celebrate and have a better time

Side note: i got inspired by paxleviathan 's cassian one shots and wrote spanish in because oscar speaks spanish andddd yeah

Warnings: alcohol, iNeBriAtiOn (he gets drunk), i can't write spanish and neither can google translate, apart from that it's hella wholesome,

Translations: mi amor = my love, bobo = silly, other translations are in the main text,

Word count: 1013

You're walking through the base's cantina bar, trying to find Poe among the crush of other tipsy pilots, when your ears catch a soft echo of his voice. It's slurred, the letters crashing into each other as he sings some sort of tune engineered to poke fun at the Empire, but it sounds amazing in his warm baritone anyway. Carefully edging your way past a few pilots taking shots at the bar, you nod to a few people who are sober enough to recognise you before you burst through the throng to find yourself face to face with Poe.

His face lights up when he sees you. 'And here's my sweet cheeks!' He crows. 'You came just in time!'
'Sweet cheeks,' you mutter to yourself. 'That's a new one.'

Poe slings his arm around you, attempting to lean against the bar but stumbling and falling against you instead. You sigh, grabbing the collar of his leather jacket to steady him, smiling when he dips his head, trying to peck you on the lips but instead missing and colliding with your cheek instead. Rolling your eyes, you turn to the pilot to your left.

'How much did you give him?'
She grins. 'He said he could take it. He didn't want to look like a lightweight.'
You laugh. 'Poe can never back down from a challenge, can he?'
'No, he can't,' the man himself cuts in proudly. 'I never back up either.'
'Good to know, mi amor,' you reply, noting the liquid spilled all the way down his shirt. 'Let's get you home, huh?'

Tucking your arm around his shoulder, you support him as best as you can to the door while he waves frantically at the others, greeting them with a lopsided smile and bright, happy, slightly hazy eyes. Finally, you manage to drag him outside, where you hope the cold night air will sober him up at least slightly. It does no such thing; instead, he cranes his neck and stare up at the stars with a child like look of wonder. Grabbing your hand, he tugs you close, hugging you to his side and kissing your hair.

'Mira las estrellas,' he whispers, falling back into his mother tongue in his intoxication. Look at the stars. 'Son tan bonitas como tú.' They're as pretty as you.
You laugh. 'Gracias, mi amor. Podría decir lo mismo por ti.' Thank you, fly boy. I could say the same for you.

He gazes at you, swinging your intertwined hands between you. Clinging on tight to you, he gazes at the base as if he's never seen it before, then stares at you as if you've got a second head. Slowly, he reaches out and smooths your hair down, his touch gentle as he murmurs something that might be 'pretty' under his breath. Suddenly, he pipes up, switching back to Basic as you begin to walk to the quarters the two of you share.

'You're my number one.'
You wrinkle your nose in confusion. 'Your number one what?'
'My number one everything,' he giggles. 'My number one darling, my number one sweetheart, mi amor número uno...' My number one love...
'So, who's your number two, then?' You ask.
He gives you a dopey smile. 'You as well. You're my number one, and my number two, and my number three, and my number four, and my number - '
'I get the gist, Poe.'
He tilts his head, almost tripping over a tool box he couldn't avoid fast enough. 'But don't you want to find out if you're my number five?'
You raise his hand to your lips and kiss his knuckles. 'Tell me later, love.'

Poe huffs but obediently trundles along beside you, periodically stumbling over his own feet and crashing into things which the more sober version of him would have danced around with ease. You're not used to him being this drunk, and to be honest, he's sweet. Normally, he's precise, his face always fixed in that cocky smirk, nothing like the starry eyed grin he wears now. He won't let go of you for a second - as if you're the one who needs protection - and every few minutes he'll glance over at you and grin, mumbling something in his own language about how beautiful you are.

Eventually, you arrive at your quarters, and after a few seconds of thought you decide that he's not going to make it out of the shower. You need to change his shirt, though, it's still covered with some liquor or whiskey of some sort, and you don't want that on your sheets when he finally crashes. Tugging him into your bedroom, you make him sit down on the mattress and wait as you find a clean shirt.

'Arms up,' you say briskly. He obeys, and you shimmy his shirt up, attempting to get it over his head, when suddenly, he speaks, his voice muffled by the damp fabric.
'Wait, I have a girlfriend, what - '
You yank the shirt up over his head so he can see you. 'I am your girlfriend, bobo!'
He gives you a stupid grin. 'Oh, yeah.'

You wrestle the clean shirt over his head, and as soon as his arms pop through the sleeves, he locks them around you, burying his face in your shoulder. Sighing, you ruffle his thick curls, tugging lightly at them to prise him off you as he babbles about how good you smell. A chuckle escapes you as he slips on nothing and plummets face first onto your bed, letting out a half indignant, half terrified squeak as he falls. Groaning, he flops over, making very persuading grabby hands at you, and you indulge him, lying down beside him and allowing him to rest his head on your chest. He sighs contentedly, and you run your hands down his back in a way you know will make his eyes droop. A yawn cracks your face, and you kiss his forehead as his lashes flutter.

'Dormir ahora, mi amor,' you whisper.

Sleep now, my love.

yes this wasnt spell checked