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imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul · 10 months ago

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Return to Me - Chapter Twenty-Five and a Half

Chapter Twenty-Five and a Half: Drunk in Love

A/N: Oh hi! I was scrolling through my master doc of Return to Me and found this buried within it. So voila, here is my second add on chapter. Just more cuteness before the reader and Poe finally get together. (You don't have to read the whole story to read this chapter, but of course, I'd encourage you to, nonetheless!)

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader Word Count: 5.3k Synopsis: After a successful mission, Poe and the reader drink a little too heavily in celebration, and end up sharing a bed together.

Tags: @xeniarocks, @too-many-baes, @idocarealot, @treblebeth, @treestarrrrrrrr, @thescarletknight2014, @cspr-2, @ibikus, @mellow-f1, @mrsdaamneron, @trustme3-13, @ella-solei, @minelskede, @gleigh42, @givemethatgold, @and-claudia, @constantdisgrace, @wordsinwinters, @readingvogueonprivetdrive, @trshbb, @kaitlynw011, @ihave2muchtimeonmyhands, @fairytalesforever, @thanos-jeep, @mixedfandxms,

@pastelbunny1501, @emotionalcal, @danicalifxrnia, @getyourselfaunicorn, @spider-starry, @roserrys, @blushingwueen, @sam-wilsonnn , @commondazy, @throughparisallthroughrome, @ms-dont-care , @bubblegumcat229 , @barnesdameron , @i-hope-the-roof-flies-off , @deliriousgeek , @elisearts, @abzidabzy @lxntsxv

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"Bottoms up!” Snap cheers, lifting his bottle to Poe’s. “To our fearless commander.”

Poe smiles at his friend and drinks along with him. All of Black Squadron is around him, and he smiles at each of them in turn, too.

He cannot remember the last time they have had reason to celebrate.

Just an hour ago, they had landed on the base and were greeted by a group of happy Resistance members. Something Poe saw very rarely.

The Resistance had gained intelligence about a week back that there was a First Order base on Corellia. In the debriefing they received, they were also informed that it was mostly abandoned, but fully functional. If they could gain access to the base, there was no telling how much information they could gather for the Resistance.

And Black Squadron was elected to be at the front of this plan.

The base wasn’t completely abandoned, so they were in charge of taking down any resistance, so that the ground team could do their thing. It had been a huge success: no casualties on their end, no unexpected hiccups; just a clean mission.

Which Poe had found himself caring more and more about.

Since befriending and working closely with you, Poe began to understand all the intricacies that went into their missions. To Poe, an unexpected turn in a mission was just a burst of excitement, but on the logistical side, the side you worked on, it meant more debriefings, more meetings to attain supplies, and data work that seemed to constantly pile up.

He won’t deny that he is smug, knowing that he’ll get to tell you how well he did. It is only at this thought, that he realizes you aren’t in the crowd of the party. He doesn’t think you were in the crowd that greeted Black Squadron upon their entry either.

Breaking away from his group, he takes a scouring glance around the packed room. He is certain if you were here, he would have spotted you by now.

“Poe, do a shot with us!” Jess yells. Poe looks back at his friends with a smile.

“I will in a little while,” he says, rejoining the group, just to reach around Snap and grab another bottle of beer, one to match his own. “I’ll be back in a few. Then we’ll do those shots.” He gives them a winning smile and lifts his beer, causing a loud cheer from his friends.

The hallway is in stark contrast to the warm, loud party inside. It seems nearly everyone is inside, or in their own quarters. He briefly considers checking your own quarters, but his gut guides him to the Control Center instead.

Sure enough, when he walks in, he sees you sitting near the control panel, data pad in hand, and head down. He nods to a few passing crew members as he makes his way towards you. He makes sure to keep both bottles of beer hidden inside his jacket.

“How did I know I’d find you in here?” he says lowly, sliding into the seat next to you. You gasp softly as you look up, clearly surprised by his appearance.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, “I thought you’d be celebrating.��

“I was,” he says, and quickly flashes the bottles secreted in his jacket. You open your mouth in surprise, and he laughs.

“I’m not sure those are allowed in the control room.”

“Oh, I’m sure they’re not. So why don’t you come celebrate with the rest of us? That way no beer is where it shouldn’t be,” he says. You consider him for a moment but shake your head.

“I can--”

“Don’t say you have work to do, because this was a clean mission, I made sure of it,” he says, interrupting you with a grin. You raise an eyebrow at him, a smile etching it’s way across your face. Poe fights the feeling that the look elicits from him.

“Are you saying you made sure this mission went perfectly, so that we could drink together?” you ask. Poe only shrugs in response, making you laugh.

“Maybe, so why don’t you indulge me?” He flashes the beer once more. You look around the room and Poe follows your gaze. Everyone seems to be wrapping up for the day. Of course, there is an evening crew that makes sure the base stays operational through the night, who are currently setting up, but pretty much everyone else has finished.

“Alright,” you say with a sigh.

“Alright?” Poe asks, grinning.

“Yes,” you say, shutting down the pad in front of you. You stand up and smooth the skirt of your outfit. Poe knows he is staring up at you, but can’t seem to stop. He didn’t think it would be so simple to convince you. “Come on,” you say, rolling your eyes at him.

“Yes ma’am,” he says, standing immediately. The actions brings the two of you chest to chest. Poe looks into your eyes, peering into his own. He is not sure if he has ever been this close to you. There are flecks of color in your eyes he knows he hasn’t seen before, and he is about to lean in closer to detail them, when you move.

You clear your throat and back away from him, the first to come to your senses.

“Beer, please,” you say, holding out your hand. Poe laughs gently and passes it over.

He leads the way towards the party, and by the time you get there, your beer is gone. He looks at you questioningly, and a little impressed. You just smile at him.

“It’s been a long couple of days.”

He smiles back at you, taking in the signs of stress on your face: the circles under your eyes that are beginning to appear, your much more casual hair and makeup, still extravagant to many of the people on base, but simpler than usual. He also sees the nerves on your face, the ones that are there when you’re proposing new plans for the Resistance, or any time that you are confronted with something new or scary, which seemed to happen a lot around Poe.

“Well, let’s see if we can combat that,” he says, and finishes his drink in one swallow. You smile back at him gratefully and enter the room.

As promised, when Poe walks in, Jess has shots ready for him and the rest of Black Squadron. He leads you over to the table they have gathered around and immediately pours another shot.

“You game?” he asks. In answer you reach for the small glass and hold it up to his.

“Cheers?” you ask. He repeats your sentiment and together, you, Poe, and Black Squadron all clink glasses and swallow the burning liquor.

You are laughing. Poe isn’t sure what is so funny, or when you even started laughing, but you are laughing, nonetheless. And have been for quite some time, he thinks. He comes back over to you, this time with glasses full of water, and starts laughing too.

“You are so drunk,” he says, placing the glass carefully in your hand. You just nod as you take a heavy drink of the water. “What were you laughing about?” he asks.

“Nothing,” you say with a sigh, leaning back in your seat. The party around you has mostly died off, but there are still a few stragglers, finishing their last drinks. “I just realized that I am dead.”

“What?” Poe asks.

“Nové is gonna kill me,” you say, looking at him.

“Why?”

“She’s got an exam tomorrow and I promised I would let her have the room tonight. I was supposed to catch a transport to Naboo to give her some peace and quiet.” You appear resigned to your fate, but a moment later, you let out a “Fuck!” Poe chuckles to himself at the cute, frustrated expression on your face. “I guess I could see if there are any pods left—”

“Just stay with me tonight.”

“What?” you ask, growing suddenly serious. “I can’t do that.”

“Sure you can. Like you said, Nové will kill you and I obviously can’t let that happen. And no one is going to be flying across the galaxy tonight, especially not someone as drunk as you—”

“I don’t fly anyway, I’m a passenger,” you say, slurring your words just slightly.

“Regardless, you’re just going to stay with me tonight, alright?”

“Fine,” you say. He can tell you are surprised by your own agreement because your eyes widen. You reach out and grab his arm, pulling him in close. He is momentarily stunned, for a moment thinking you are pulling him in for something else. But instead, you say, “What if I throw up?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time someone has thrown up in my room,” he says simply. And for some reason it makes you pull back.

Physically, yes, you have retreated from him, but there is also a small part of you that seems to become more reserved at his words. “I do it all the time,” he adds quickly.

“Of course,” you say with a gentle smile. “Thank you. I promise, I’ll be out before you know it and your couch won’t look any different.”

Poe raises his eyebrow at you as you both stand, knowing full well there is no way he is letting you sleep on his uncomfortable couch. He leads the way out of the room, nodding his goodbye to a few people.

When he lets you into his quarters, the change is immediate. He knows you have been in here before, but only in passing. As he shuts the door behind you, he takes in how the dim lighting highlights your face.

He knows what the difference is. You have never been here for longer than 2 minutes. Never with the door shut behind you. And never, ever at night. But now that you are . . .

You turn to look at him, raw emotion sketched on your face. He knows you can feel the change too.

“Your room is a lot bigger than mine,” you blurt out, as if it was the only thought you have besides how alone the two of you are. He watches as an embarrassed blush reaches across your cheeks.

“Yeah, well I’m not a commander for nothing,” he says with a grin, “I needed something to sweeten the pot.” You snort and he sees some of the tension retreat from your shoulders.

“Want another glass of water?” he asks.

“Please.” As he goes to get it for you, you take another surveying glance of his quarters before moving over to the couch. You run your hands over the back of it and Poe cannot help that he tracks the motion intensely.

“This will be perfect,” you say.

“You’re funny, you know that?” Poe says, walking towards you and handing you the glass.

“What?”

“You’re sleeping in my bed,” he says. Halfway through a drink, you nearly choke on the water.

“No,” you say firmly.

“Yes.”

“No, Poe, I’m already putting you out, the couch will be fine.”

“You’re my guest, you’ll take the bed.”

“No,” you say, and set the glass down.

“Don’t argue with me.”

“I’ll argue with you all I want, especially about ridiculous things,” you say, taking a step closer to him. He recognizes the look on your face, the one you usually save for fights in your work. But he isn’t going to back down, either.

“You’re the one being ridiculous, there’s a perfectly good bed in there,” he says, motioning towards the door to his bedroom.

“And I won’t deprive you of it,” you say, waving your hand that way as well.

“You don’t want to sleep in my bed?”

“No, I want you to sleep in your bed,” you say.

“Well, I want you to sleep in my bed.”

“You need to sleep in your own bed,” you argue.

“So we agree, we need to sleep in the bed? Got it.” And before you can say anything else, Poe lifts you in his arms, bridal style, and carries you to his bedroom. He kicks open the door and practically flings you onto the bed.

“We’ll both sleep in the bed, then,” he says, and flops down on the other side. The movement makes you bounce and it shakes whatever shock you feel at being forced in here. Instead, you are laughing again. Poe isn’t far behind, losing himself in a fit of giggles until the two of you are breathless in bed.

Poe is having a hard time remembering the last time that has happened with someone without having sex.

“You’re stubborn, you know that?” he says, rolling onto his side to look at you. You do the same.

“I do. But so are you.”

“I guess I can’t argue with you on that point.”

“I’m sure you’d find a way,” you say with a smile. “Poe, I really can’t sleep in your bed.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re—and I’m—and we’re . . .” You are gesturing with your hands and Poe takes one in his. You stop stammering and look at his face, the tussled hair.

“We’re what?” he asks, his hand playing with your own.

“We’re not this.”

“What is this?” he asks. You start to speak, but then stop. He can see you are searching for an answer and finds that he doesn’t have one, either. You pull your hand away and lay on your back, looking up at the ceiling.

“I promise not to use any of my charm on you,” he says, making you turn your head. “At least, not any more than usual.” You chuckle. “Or, I can go to the couch.”

You study him for a long moment. He can see you examine every angle of his face, looking for what, he’s not sure. When you answer, Poe is surprised he held his breath for that long.

“I wouldn’t want to put you out,” you say slowly.

“You’re so considerate, Y/N,” he says, taking your hand again beseechingly. You roll your eyes and shake him off, but you are still laughing, even if you are also calling him an idiot.

“Let me grab you something more comfortable to sleep in,” he says, and gets up from the bed.

“What?”

“Well, you can’t expect to wear that dress to bed? I mean, I figure you probably sleep in elaborate pieces of nightwear but that feels a little excessive.” You cock your eyebrow at him once more.

“Do you often think about what I wear to sleep, Poe?” you ask. Poe feels color rush to his cheeks and smiles back. He stutters over a response for a few moments before turning away from you. You chuckle.

He brings you a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants and motions towards his bathroom. “You can get changed in there.”

“Thank you.”

As you change, Poe quickly strips out of his jumpsuit, into an outfit nearly similar to the one he gave you. He lays back onto the bed when you come back out.

He sees your eyes trail over him, taking in the change of clothes. He isn’t sure he imagines it when your eyes linger in a few places.

“Hey,” he says, smiling at you.

“Hey.”

“Those comfortable enough?”

“They are, thank you,” you say. Poe spares a moment to take you in. To understand the feelings he’s having at seeing you wear his clothes. They probably smell like you, and something primal in him is satisfied by knowing that the smell will mark you now, too.

“You gonna get into bed, or do I have to toss you onto it again?” he asks. You let out a jut of laughter and reluctantly crawl onto the bed next to him. While he is laying down, your back is rigid against the pillows.

“Y/N,” he says softly, “You’re safe here, I promise. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.”

“I know you won’t,” you say, just as soft.

“Would it make you feel better if I laid the other way?” he asks, nodding to the foot of the bed. Before you can answer, he flips his position, so his feet are next to you.

“You didn’t have to--” He grabs hold of your ankle and pulls you down the bed until you are laying down, too.

“There,” he says, “Now we can both get comfortable.”

“I didn’t realize you were such a manhandler.” He laughs quietly.

“Just though I’d get you in here eventually, so figured I’d speed up the process,” he says. You lift your head up and he adds quickly, “I mean tonight, I figured I’d get you in here.”

“Ah.”

“Well, goodnight then,” he says stiffly. He sits up to go turn off the lights, but you grab hold of his arm.

“Maybe, leave the lights on for a little while?” you ask. He can see the uncertainty still in your eyes.

“I can go sleep on the couch,” he says softly.

“It’s not that,” you say, and take in a deep breath, “I’m just not tired yet.”

“I find that hard to believe given how much you drank tonight,” he says. You grin at him and shake your head.

“I know, but I’m really not. Maybe we can just talk?” you ask.

“Sure,” he says, and lays back down. “What do you want to talk about?” He stops himself before he can add an affectionate “baby.” He is surprised the urge even arises in him.

“I don’t know, tell me a story.”

“Like a fairytale?” he asks with a laugh.

“No,” you say, laughing along, “Something about you.”

“Something about me,” he repeats.

“Yes.”

“Well,” he says, “How about the first time I ever flew?”

He recounts for you his parents differing opinions on him becoming a pilot. He describes the feeling of sitting in a cockpit for the first time, even if he was also sitting in his mother’s lap the entire time. He describes the feel of the controls in his hands, again, even though his mother was truly in control. And he tells you about how proud both of his parents were when he touched back down.

When he is done with the story, there is a smile on his face. You don’t say anything for a while, but when you do, you sit up.

“Poe, were your parents in love?” you ask. He sits up, too, and takes in the look on your face. It’s unreadable, but he knows that you’re upset about something.

“What?” he asks.

“Were your parents in love?” you ask again. He wraps his arms around his knees and thinks for a moment.

“Yeah, they were.”

“Hmm,” you say and lay back on his favorite pillow.

“Were yours?” he asks.

“What?”

“Your parents,” Poe says, when your eyes lock on his. “Were they in love?"

“I don’t know. I wanted to think that they were, when I was a kid. I think they might have been once, but now I don’t think they care.” You scoff.

“What?”

“Just saying it sounds so pathetic. That they would put anything above each other. I used to think they were so in love, and wanted that for myself, but I don’t want a relationship that means less to me than politics or getting ahead, you know?”

“I do.”

“If and when I ever settle down, it will not be like that.”

“What will it be like?” he asks. When you don’t answer he nudges you slightly.

“I don’t know,” you say. “Less like my parents, more like yours, maybe.”

“Well, my Dad will be thrilled to hear that,” he says, and lays down, his head parallel with your own. He looks at your face. If you give any indication that this isn’t alright, he’ll go back to the foot of the bed. But you don’t. Instead, you roll onto your side, facing him. Your eyes look heavy with sleep, something he didn’t know he would find so adorable.

“Are you ready to turn the lights off yet?”

“Sure, Poe,” you say. The way you say his name, your voice thick sleep, makes certain parts of him tighten. He gets up and quickly turns off the lights.

“We should probably get under the covers,” he says.

“Oh if we do that, I’m not sure I’ll be able to control myself,” you say. He smiles as he climbs back on the bed, facing you in the dark. He can only see the outline of your face, and the whites of your eyes.

“What would you need to control?” he asks.

“Forget I said it,” you say, trying to turn away from him as you run a hand through your hair.

“I’m not sure I want to,” he says, taking your arm and pulling you just an inch closer. You let out a breathy laugh, facing him once more.

“I’m just drunk,” you whisper, “Ignore what I say.”

“I like drunk Y/N.”

“Yeah?” you ask with a laugh.

“Yeah. It’s fun to see you let your guard down. And then let it down even more with every shot you take.” You laugh harder and the motion brings you another inch closer.

“Glad I can entertain.”

“But I like sober Y/N, too,” he says gently. He is holding your hand, but he has no memory of when he took it.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Maybe a little too much,” he says. Your hand in his is shaking gently. “Except when she gets on me about messy missions.”

“Oh yeah, that’s the worst.”

You both laugh for a moment, but then fall quiet. For so long that Poe thinks maybe you have fallen asleep, but then you say softly, “Why did you bring me here?”

“You didn’t have anywhere to stay,” he says, “Why wouldn’t I?”

“There wasn’t another lady you had promised this side of the bed to?” you ask.

“No, no one else.”

“Hmm, I find that a little hard to believe.”

“Why?”

“You’re not known for being a prude,” you say delicately. He laughs to himself. He won’t deny that he has enjoyed the company of lots of women, and he knows that reputation follows him.

“No, I’m not. Does that bother you?”

“Why would it?”

“Because it does, to others,” he says. He hopes you can hear the ache in his voice. He hasn’t had this conversation with anyone before, but he finds it playing over in his head a lot since he’s gotten to know you.

“I don’t mind that you’re a slut,” you say with a smile. He laughs. “I know who you are, Poe. I’m not afraid of that.”

“Good,” he says. Your eyes are on him, and the pressure is almost too intense. “I’m drunk, Y/N, so please forget that I ask this tomorrow morning.”

“Okay?” you say a bit nervously.

“You . . . I bring a lot of girls here . . . You never . . .” He cannot seem to find the right words, or even the courage to say them if he could.

“Are you asking me if I’ve ever thought about being one of those girls?”

“I forget that you’re so smart,” he says in a breath, making you laugh. “But yes, more or less.”

“Of course I’ve thought about it,” you say, rolling onto your back.

“And?” he asks.

“And,” you say. Poe focuses on the outline of your face. You are silent for too long, and when he thinks you won’t say anything else, he gathers a pillow under his head.

“And I think we’d be good together,” you whisper. Poe has to strain to hear you, but he knows he heard you correctly.

“We’d be great together,” he corrects. You smile in the dark, and that is the thought that Poe focuses on as he closes his eyes.

When you wake up, the room is still dark. At least, you think so, because you have not dared to open your eyes yet.

When you began to stir from sleep, there were a few sensations you noted in this order: 1. There were strong arms wrapped around you. 2. Your own hands were tangled up in curly hair. And 3. You were insanely hungover, if the splitting headache was any indication.

You know what you will find when you open your eyes, and maybe that’s why you’ve kept them closed for so long.

Sometime in the night, you and Poe made your way into each other’s arms. And not just that, under the covers as well. You next realize that your legs are tangled together, too. The arrangement is a lot cozier than you would have ever expected.

You finally get the courage to open your eyes, and instantly regret it. Only a little bit of light creeps through the window, but it’s enough to make you wince and take cover deeper into Poe’s arms. He stirs slightly, tucking you in tighter as he hums.

You are not sure you have ever been this comfortable, and the thought scares you. You test how strong his hold on you is, trying gently to pull yourself from his grip. He is breathing softly, but at your movement, he grunts.

“What are you doing?” he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep. He opens his eyes slowly and takes you in for a long minute. "Good morning," he says with a grin that has your stomach flipping. You see him take in the position you are in, but he doesn't change a thing.

"Morning," you say in a breath. You gently untangled your hand from his hair, and could almost swear that Poe hums his discontent, just a little.

"What time is it?" he asks, looking around his shoulder. His hold on you is still firm.

"Early, I would guess."

"Yeah. How did you sleep?" he asks, looking back at you.

"Good. I think. Some bits that I'm not remembering, though."

"Yeah, like what?"

"Well, this, for example," you say, motioning between your two bodies.

"Probably just the hangover," he says, closing his eyes again as he snuggles into his pillow. He pulls you in just a little closer, his hand rubbing small circles on your back.

"Poe," you say quietly.

"Hmm?"

"How did we end up like this?"

"Must have happened in our sleep."

"Well, how did you sleep?" you ask. He must realize that you aren't giving up, so he opens his eyes and lifts his head a little. He smiles down at you.

"I slept great."

"Really?"

"Really," he says.

"Why don't you seem as hungover as I am?" you ask. He laughs softly.

"Well, Y/N, I didn't drink as much as you."

"Even so, it's still early. How can you even be smiling at an hour like this?" you grumble, and to your own surprise, you drop your head into the crook of his arm. Poe laughs again and the sounds rumbles through his chest.

"I grew up on a farm, so I've always been an early riser. Plus, it's always a good morning when you wake up next to a beautiful woman."

“Have lot of experience with that, do you?” you ask, looking back up at him.

“Not to your caliber,” he says, tucking a stray hair out of your face. "How are you feeling, though?"

"My head is pounding and I think I'll puke if I move." Poe laughs and tucks you in tighter, your nose a fraction from his neck.

"Well then, we'll have to keep you here until those symptoms reside," he says. You laugh against his skin and you know you aren't imagining the slight twitch he makes towards your body.

"I think I've already overstayed my welcome," you say, and begrudgingly pull yourself from his warm embrace. You are still not ready to sit up, but there is now a more acceptable distance between the two of you.

"You haven't," he says, shaking his head. "Can I make you breakfast? I have the perfect hangover recipe."

"No, the thought of food right now is sickening."

"Well, you're welcome to just stay here until you feel better."

"You don't want me to do that," you say simply, looking away from him.

"But I do." He sits up and looks down at you, so you can't avoid his gaze. "Really." You smile back at him, a soft blush growing on your cheeks.

"I should really go check on Nové, make sure she actually got some sleep last night," you say, sitting up as you do. The world spins for a moment, but Poe's hand on your back helps settle you.

"I understand," he says. Your eyes catch for a moment too long, and you realize you are smiling at each other.

"You know, I think I understand why all those girls stay over," you say. He raises an eyebrow at you questioningly, and against your better judgement, you say, "You are an excellent cuddler."

"You've learned my secret," he says with a laugh. "You're not so bad yourself, though. The hand in the hair thing? That's especially nice." You hum in response, a smile still stuck on your face.

"I should get going," you say quietly, after a long pause.

"Yeah."

"Thank you, for last night."

"Anytime," he says, his eyes finding yours again. "Nové kicks you out again, just let me know."

"Will do."

You get out of bed and stand, and it's immediately clear how bad of an idea this is. Poe's hand finds yours just when you think you really might fall down from dizziness. His laugh is gentle as you look at him.

"You really should stay, Y/N. Not sure you'll make it down to your quarters."

"I'll be fine."

"Besides, I've got a really great routine to cure a hangover," he says with a taunting grin.

"Does it involve cuddling?" you ask.

"It is heavy on the cuddling, yes," he says, making you laugh, which only makes your head hurt worse

"As wonderful as that sounds, I need to go. I'm pretty sure I'm moments away from being sick, and I would really like to not do that in front of you."

"I don't care, Y/N."

"Well, I do."

You look down at yourself and recognize for the first time that you are wearing Poe's clothes. Your own are folded up in a pile on a chair in the corner of the room.

"Keep them," he says, tracking your gaze.

"I can't keep them."

"At least wear them out. I would hate for anyone to see you in the same dress as last night. Wouldn't that be like a cardinal sin in your life?"

"Ha ha," you say dryly. "Thank you."

You look at him as he gets out of bed, too. The t-shirt he's wearing bunches up a little, and you take in his toned stomach. You avert your eyes quickly.

"Since I can't convince you to stay, I'll walk you to the door at least."

Nové is gone by the time you get to your room. You are glad of it. Your mind is spinning, partially from the hangover, and partially because the details of the night before are coming back to you.

You just want to flop on your cold bed, and hopefully forget how great the previous evening was.

When Poe walked you to his door, there was a moment where you weren't sure what he was going to do. What you were going to do. But before either of you could cross that final barrier, commotion in the hallway pulled your attentions and brought you back to reality.

Now, alone in your bed, snuggling a pillow that is a poor replacement for the real thing, you imagine what it might be like to pass that barrier, to be one of the girls he is typically with.

And a couple hallways down, Poe is in his own lonely bed, imagining the same thing.

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron #poe dameron fanfic #star wars #star wars fanfic #star wars imagine

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imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul · 10 months ago

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Return to Me - Chapter Twenty-Nine and A Half

Chapter Twenty-Nine and a Half: For the Better

A/N: Hello, friends! As always, Return to Me is never far from my thoughts, and I often find myself rereading chapters when I need them. And as always, I want to rewrite everything I've ever written. But, since I've put so much work into the current rewrite, I've decided to fill in some of the gaps that seem to haunt me the most. So voila, I present to you my first add-on chapter.

This chapter will follow both the reader and Poe, in the aftermath of their breakup. As I have reread this story, I feel like the absolute depression that each of them went through wasn't expressed enough, so this needed to be done. This is aggressively inspired by the TikTok edit of Waiting Room x All I Wanted.

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader Word Count: 3.6k Synopsis: Somehow, life goes on after the painful breakup, and Poe and the reader struggle to find their footing in this new world.

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

You cannot remember the last time you ate. You know you've been drinking water, but only because every hour or so, Nové is there to force it down your throat.

You have never felt this weak before. You have lived on Naboo for most of your life, but every breeze off the lakes chills you to your core. Sitting with your upcoming cabinet nearly knocks you to the ground.

You know eating will help, but you can't seem to muster up the appetite, even when your favorite foods are presented in front of you.

Your mind wanders. You try to stay in the present, listen to the information that you know will be beneficial to your reign, but you can't seem to focus on a single thought.

Well, aside from the memory of the pain on Poe's face. That never, ever leaves your mind.

The only other thought that grasps you is what your father said after you told him it was over. That you and Poe were over.

"Know it's for the better, Y/N."

Compared to the devastation in Poe's eyes, the look in your father's was warm, caring even. You know he truly believes that this is the better course. And that belief haunts your thoughts.

"Y/N?" One of the handmaidens ask. You aren't sure which one, since you just met them all, aside from Nové. You think it might be Loré, the one with the beautiful dark hair.

"Sorry?" you say, trying to shake yourself back to the present.

"Did you decide on what dress you want to wear?" she asks. By her placating tone, you know it's not the first she has asked this.

"The red will be fine for today," you say.

Today, your coronation day, the final brick that will complete the wall between the life you had known for five years, and the one you have to embrace now.

"Excellent choice," Loré says softly, and goes to collect the supplies to prepare your look.

Poe cannot remember the last time he hasn't woken up with a terrible hangover.

In reality, he knows the last time was the last morning he spent with you, when things still made sense. But since that awful day, the rest have become a blur of too many drinks in the quiet of your formerly shared quarters.

The beep of greeting that BB-8 gives him only strains his already growing headache. He mumbles a hello and staggers his way to the bathroom.

Poe splashes cold water on his face, raring himself for the day. Leia informed him last night that she has a mission for Black Squadron, and Poe couldn't have been more relieved.

When he was moving, when he was fighting, when he was doing anything other than sitting in this room, it was easier to ignore the thoughts that clawed at him in the night.

It was easy to forget the absolute gut-wrenching pain of your goodbye. To forget the memory of you walking back up the stairs, towards the life you were leaving him for.

It was easy to forget that he had hardly fought for you.

He dressed in his orange jumpsuit and together he and BB-8 left the room. The least amount of time he could stay in here, the better it was for his mind, heart, and liver.

The makeup is lighter than you had expected.

Looking at yourself in the mirror, the white face paint covers every inch of your skin, but it feels as if nothing is there at all. Loré paints two red dots on your cheeks, and finishes with the lip design, as Nové brings your selected gown in.

The dress takes a few minutes to put on. Sondé pins the the veil into the braided crown of your hair, and there is no more stalling to do.

You are motionless before the standing mirror. It is your reflection you see, but it's not someone you know. Queen Bhavisama looks back at you, her eyes welling with tears just like your own.

Before they can fall and ruin your makeup, you shove those feelings down. The numbing thought, "Know it's for the better," clings in your mind, and you let it wash over you.

Flight check is a reflex to Poe. Without even realizing he has started, he is already done. BB-8 wows something at it, but Poe only recognizes half of it. He hears the word 'general,' and he hops down from the X-Wing as Leia walks up.

"Commander," she says with a sad smile. The only type of smile Poe has received from any of his friends in the last few weeks.

"General."

"Are you ready for today?"

"Of course."

"Didn't have too much to drink last night?" she asks, but her demeanor makes it seem like she already knows the answer.

"I'm fine, Leia," he says softly.

"Are you?"

There is nothing but worry in Leia's face as she asks. She's not asking as his general, but as an old friend, the person who officiated his wedding, the person he's looked up to for years.

He can only bring himself to nod. Somehow, he thinks if he tried to speak the lie, he would falter.

"Be careful, Commander."

He nods to her once more and begins to climb back up the X-Wing, when Leia says, "And may the Force be with you." Not just on this mission, her eyes seem to say.

You have been shaking since Sarsa Broden gave you the responsibility of Naboo. You know there was a parade in your honor, you know that you walked through it, probably smiled and waved at your citizens, but it's all a blur.

Back at Theed Palace there is a party in your honor, yet you are incapable of finding a single reason to celebrate.

When you enter the room, you know there is commotion around you, but you don't hear any of it, until your father's hand is on your arm.

"We are so proud of you," he says, throwing his arms around you. You hardly feel them. His face holds no emotion other than delight, no matter how hard you search.

"Thank you," you mutter, shrugging out of his arms. You need to get out of this room, away from all these people.

You aren't sure you've cried before 9pm in any of the past weeks. Appointments have kept you too unfeeling to have time to. But the coronation ceremony has brought you to your knees, and you need to get out of here before you lose control.

"Ah, your highness," a voice says, and before you can register who it is, they have your arm in theirs. You look up into Sarsa Broden's smiling face. He's an old family friend, and typically the sight of him would have made you nothing but happy, but now, all you can see if him handing over Naboo to you.

"You did well today, my Queen," he says. The title chafes. Suddenly your dress feels much too tight.

"Thank you," you manage to say.

"Ah," he says, as a server walks by with a tray of food. "My favorites. Any for you--"

"No, no thank you," you say. Just the smell of whatever it is makes you nauseous. When was the last time you ate anything?

"I hope that you know you can call on me for anything you should need during your term."

"Of course I do," you say. The temperature in the ball room must have gone up at least ten degrees. It quickly feels hard to breath.

"I'm glad," he says with a smile. He studies your face for a moment and his smile drops. "Your Highness? Are you alright?"

"Perfectly fine, my lord," you pant.

"I know this can all be overwhelming, but I do hope it's all you ever wanted it to be."

You are going to be sick.

"Please excuse me," you say, not giving him enough time to respond before you bolt out the nearest exit.

Workers are a blur as you race past them, struggling not to knock them over.

Know it's for the better.

You hear footsteps behind you and know that it is your security, probably confused as hell about your sudden exit.

All you ever wanted.

At the end of the hall is a door out to the terrace.

Know it's for the better.

Naboo matches the mood of her queen. The temperature has dropped significantly, as heavy rain falls over Theed Palace.

All you ever wanted.

It is the final straw. Here in the downpour in the dark, with only a few streetlights and the glow of the opened door where your guards wait, you break down.

Falling to your knees, tears pour down your face faster than ever. You can feel the face paint slipping down your cheeks, but it doesn't matter. A scream like sob wrenches out of you as you hold onto yourself.

Both your father and Broden's words echo in your mind. Like scorpions they sting and sting, over and over again. You cannot find a way to be free of them.

Warm arms wrap around you, and for a moment you think it's one of your guards, but then you look up into Nove's face. It looks like she's crying, too. You open your mouth to say something but it just comes out in a sob. She clings to you tightly and rocks you gently as you cry.

"All I wanted was him," you weep, clinging to her just as tight.

"I know, I know."

"All I wanted," you say again, and you know you are shouting, but it has to come out. You say it over and over until your throat is scraped raw. Nové just rocks you in her arms and shushes you gently.

"I know."

The bottle of moonshine is empty before Poe realizes. Just like how the mission was over before he knew it.

The bottle was a gift from his dad. He came to visit Poe a few days after he heard the news. All attempts Kes made to get Poe to open up were futile. But when it finally all came out, over a couple glasses of the very same moonshine, Kes held him tightly, crying with him.

He left the bottle with Poe and told him to comm if he needed anything. Poe thought he could use another bottle right now, but knows that's not what his father had meant.

He holds the bottle in his hands, his grip tightening as he reads the label. It's the same brand, his father's brand, that Kes served to you when the two of you had gone to visit. Back when things were good, back when things made sense.

He doesn't realize he is holding the bottle too tight until it shatters in his hands.

"Fuck," Poe yells, trying to shake the shards of glass from his hands. The door to his quarters opens and Snap comes in, eyes wide.

"What the hell?" he asks, stepping over the shards of glass to look at Poe's hand. "What happened?"

"Bottle broke," Poe says through gritted teeth. "I'm fine."

"You're not," Snap says, pulling Poe after him. "You've got shards of glass in your hand."

"I said I'm fine, Snap!" Poe barks.

He has been like this for too long. Every little thing seems to set him on edge. He knows his friends are only trying to help, but each time they reach out, his anger only grows. No one can help him. It's a fate he has readily accepted. Why can't they?

"I know you are. But there's glass in your hand. I just want to get you cleaned up."

Poe keeps protesting as Snap leads him to Med Bay, but Snap ignores him. It isn't until they are sitting in the white, sterile room, his hand devoid of glass and bandaged, that Snap speaks again.

"What did the bottle do to piss you off?" he asks.

Poe's first instinct is to shake his head, but he finds himself saying, "Just brought up a memory."

"A bad one?"

"A Y/N one," he says quietly.

"Ah."

"You know," Poe say after a beat, "I drink to try and forget her, but everything ends up reminding me of her."

"General Organa told you she could find you another room."

"I don't want another room," he says. His voice cracks a little, but he fights to control it. "I don't want any of this, Snap."

"I know, Poe," he says gently.

"Why didn't I fight harder?" he asks, just above a whisper. He has kept these thoughts silent for too long. He wants them to come out, but knows it's pointless, given the state of things.

"What?"

"Why didn't I fight? Why didn't I confront her parents? Why didn't I take her off of Naboo, give her time to think it over? Why didn't I-"

"Poe, you--"

"Why wasn't I enough? Why wasn't our love strong enough?"

"Hey, don't start thinking like that," Snap says, bracing a hand on his shoulder. "You know why she did what she did. And you know it hurts her, too."

"I don't know what I know anymore," he says, dropping his head into his hands. He wrings his fingers through his mess of curls. They've been knotted for weeks, but he can't seem to find the desire to fix them.

"Maybe laying off the moonshine will bring some clarity," Snap says carefully. Poe lets out a tut of laughter and nods noncommittally.

"Thanks for the first aid, Snap," Poe says, and hops off the exam table.

As midnight overtakes Naboo, Nové and the other handmaidens have tucked you into bed. After spending stars know how long holding onto you on the terrace, Nové was eventually able to coax you back inside. Together, Loré, Sondé, and she got you out of the ruined coronation gown and into a warm bath. They brushed out your knotted hair as you sat in silence, and then crawled into bed next to you.

Loré, on your left, distracts you by reading inane articles from gossip nets, ones that sometimes get you to crack a smile. Sondé, on your right, has made a cup of warm tea, that she hands to you now.

Seeing that you are taken care of for the moment, Nové slips out of the room. The halls of Theed Palace are nearly empty as she finds her way into an unoccupied communications room.

She only has to wait a beat before the holographic image of Jess appears. Nové can't help her smile at seeing her, but there is pain there, too. A longing of her own.

"Hi, Supernova," Jess says.

"It's so good to hear your voice," Nové says gently.

"Yours, too."

"How are things?"

"They're alright," Jess says carefully. "Business as usual, but there is a tension that hangs in the air."

"Here too."

"How did the coronation go?" Jess asks.

"The ceremony itself went off without a hitch, but a few minutes into the party, Y/N broke down. She cried in the pouring rain for probably an hour, and all I could do was hold her," she says, feeling again, how helpless she felt then.

"It's good that you were there for her."

"Yeah," Nové says, "I'm just glad to see it finally come out. She's been a ghost these past few weeks. She only cries in the night when everyone else has left, but in the morning there are still red circles under her eyes. And then it's back to a living corpse. She hardly eats." Nové sighs. "I don't know what I can do to help her."

"I don't know that there is anything we can do," Jess says. "We've been trying to figure out how to help Poe over here, but he doesn't want to talk either."

"He's gone silent, too?"

"No, he just brushes us off when we try to. And he's taken to drinking. When it's time for a mission, debrief, he's there and in normal Poe spirit. But the second any of that is over, the tortured look comes back over him, and he disappears to his quarters to drink. He broke a glass bottle in his hands earlier today."

"How are they ever going to . . ." Nové trails off, unable to say it.

"How are they ever going to find each other again?" Jess asks.

"No. How will they ever get past this," Nové says.

"I don't know. Do you think there's a chance, after all of this is done?"

"I don't know," Nové says with a sigh. And she truly doesn't. She can't even imagine how tomorrow will shake out, let alone years from now. "Are you going to tell Poe we spoke?"

"I'm not sure. I'm going to go check in on him afterwards. I think today was particularly worse, because he knew that the coronation was taking place. I'll see if it's something he needs to hear, if it's something he can handle.

"What about Y/N?"

"Not tonight I won't," Nové replies. "We just got her into bed, I won't give her another thought to torture herself with."

"Don't forget to take care of yourself, too, Nové."

"I won't."

"I miss you like crazy."

"I miss you more," Nové says with a sad smile.

"Talk soon?"

"Absolutely. Jess?" Nové asks, before she can end the call. "We both miss you all. If he can handle it, tell him, won't you?"

"Of course. Goodnight, Supernova."

"Goodnight, Jessika."

A knock at his door awakens Poe. He lifts off the bed and notices the chair in the corner is in pieces, a bottle of whiskey lying next to him. He can't remember how it got there, or how the chair broke, but that has been happening more and more.

He has pushed his feelings down for so long, they seem to manifest in bursts of anger. He knows the drinking isn't helping these mood swings, but he can't bring himself to care to stop.

He knows he is drunk when he goes to open the door for Jess and nearly falls as he trips on more scattered junk. Jess walks into the room, and takes in the mess as she does. A bottle rolls away from her foot, rattling as she kicks it.

"Poe," she pleads, "Tell me this isn't all yours."

"What do you want, Jess?" he asks, flopping down at the end of his bed.

"At least say they aren't all from today."

"They aren't all from today."

"We're all worried about you--"

"I don't need your worry," he says, looking at her. "I'm fine."

"I never ever saw you drink this much when Y/N was around."

"Well she's not anymore, is she?" He can feel the fire blazing in his eyes as he says this, the anger forming inside of him.

"I never saw you drink this much before her, either," Jess says quietly.

"I'm fine," he says again, knowing it's a lie. "I'll quit soon, I'm just--"

"Trying to drink your way through the galaxy?"

"Why are you here, Jess?" he asks tiredly. "Come to dig the knife in further? I know you were calling Nové today."

"I did."

"So, how is she?" he asks. Jess knows he's not talking about Nové.

"The same as this," she says.

"Y/N is drinking herself to a stupor?" Poe asks with a pained smile.

"From the way Nové tells it, she can't bring herself to do much of anything. Says she's like a ghost."

A ghost. Poe can hardly imagine you as such. Can hardly imagine the woman he loves, the woman so full of life and laughter, suddenly empty and silent. The only time you were remotely like that, was around your parents, but even then you had venomous words to wield against them.

"She's not fighting anymore," Poe says, understanding, "She's accepted this fate her parents have decided for us."

"Not sure she had much of a choice."

"Yeah, but I did," he says. "I could have fought for her. I should have fucking been there today."

"What could you have done?"

"I could have tried," he says weakly. He stands, turning away from her as the tears he tries so hard to keep at bay threaten to fall. Jess ignores his desire to be alone and wraps him in her arms. It isn't until he's fully embraced that he realizes how much he needs this. He holds her tightly.

"I'm sorry," Jess says, the only thing she can think to say.

"I know," he says, breaking away from her. "I am, too." And that's really all he's been since it happened. Sorry for himself, sorry for you, sorry for the life you would have had, and the one you have now.

"So," he says after a beat, "What's her name?"

"Queen Bhavisama," Jess says quietly.

"Thank you for telling me," Poe says, a gentle dismissal. Jess nods.

Once she is gone, Poe sits back down and reaches for the closest bottle. He brings it to his lips but stops before drinking. His thoughts are on you, same as every day, but he cannot get the haunted image of you out of his mind.

He hates himself just a little bit for sitting here, knowing you are in pain. And he hates himself more because he knows that if he did run to you, it wouldn't change anything.

The bottle in his hand is mostly empty, and before he can take the final swig, he holds it up in toast and says, "To Queen Bhavisama." The liquor burns as it goes down and the bottle crashes onto the floor as Poe sobs into his hands.

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars fanfic #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron fanfic #return to me

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