#for someone running on high that intensely-- is the silence long? or is unconsciousness imperceptibly short? ...which is scarier? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

winchesterxxi · 3 years

Text

My Favorite Ghost (Poe Dameron x Reader)

Rating: T (Teen and Up Audiences)

Type: Angst

Summary: What happens when a Resistance fighter gets trapped on Republican grounds and the man in charge of her torture is none other than her ex-husband Poe Dameron, former Leia Organa’s protegée turned First Order Admiral?

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Force-sensitive reader, torture, graphic descriptions of violence, blood, injuries, swearing, death.

A/N: Poe Dameron angst??? oof

MASTERPOST | REQUEST HERE | KO-FI

✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸

The mission couldn’t’ve gone more astray.

It was a simple and easy task for a single person to carry out. Fly below the cruiser, get in, get their coordinates for their next targets and get out. Hand the coordinates over to Holdo, and prevent the StarDestroyer from blazing those planets.

Simple. Until it wasn’t.

It all went astray when a face scanner crossed your path. The blueprints didn’t mention any face scanner on that door. You panicked, trying to get your face to scan and let you in, resorting to fiddling with the wires on the side of the device looking left and right to make sure no one would catch you. Except they did.

4 stormtroopers rounded the corner and, hands full with a small screwdriver and needle-nose pliers, you couldn’t have moved fast enough to reach your blaster before they had pinned you against a wall, face against the cold metal.

Next thing you knew, a dark sac is being put over your head and right after your body is pulled away from the wall, a hard object hits the back of your head and you are knocked out cold.

You don’t know how long it had passed before you regained your senses, eyes struggling to open due to the immense brightness that was aimed at you from a light above.

You scanned around the room as much as your body allowed you to, for you soon enough came to find everything below your neck strapped to a metal platform that stood upright in the middle of the room you were in.

You could spot a few cameras pointed at you, and you could also hear steps and muffled voices outside as well as a distant and low rumble of the ship’s engines – you should be close to the cockpit. Most torture rooms tended to be. That way, the commanders and soldiers don’t need to walk far to deliver information obtained from those captured.

The thoughts in your head didn’t have much more time to run wild as the big double doors in front of you opened and gave way to a silhouette to step into the room before they closed again behind them.

For as much as you forced your eyes to read them, it was practically impossible because of the light pointed directly at your face, coming from above. All you could see was the bottom of their uniform – knee-high dark leather boots and black pants, either a general or an admiral, and the clenched fists in shiny leather gloves - as they stood in front of you, hidden from the light.

“Are we getting this over with anytime soon?” you question bitterly while resting your head back and closing your eyes. You’d be damned if you were going to show any fear to anyone within this ship.

“Although I won’t blame you for just standing there, I know I’m pretty pleasant to look at.” Confidence, fake it until you make it. Or until you piss someone off, which is a better description of what you were aiming at.

“Can’t argue with that.”

Your blood runs cold.

Head snapping back down, facing forward, your jaw tightens and your whole body tenses at the reverberation of those words against the metal walls. And that is when the person you dreaded the most to run into again, in your whole life, steps into your sight.

His eyes meet yours and for a moment you think your mind is deceiving you.

This isn’t him.

Those eyes do not belong to the face in front of you. They aren’t his eyes. His eyes had a constant sparkle in them with the life that bubbled inside of him; they were big, brown, kind and caring.

These are hard, dark and cold. Lifeless.

“Poe.”

Despite his name leaving your lips in something little above a whisper, you know that name no longer refers to him. Not in the way it was engraved in your mind. Poe was your husband, the lively and witty resistance pilot that Leia Organa had assured you were meant for you. And maybe he was. But this isn’t Poe. This is someone – something else.

“It’s Admiral Dameron.”

You grith your teeth together and have to muster all the strength in you to not let your bottom lip quiver at the coldness and lack of emotion in his voice, so distant from that you were used to in the sweet nothings that would reach your ears in the mornings you’d wake up in his arms.

“What do you want?” you ask him, voice tainted with both pain and disgust.

“I could ask you the same thing. You were the one caught in our ground, trying to break a facial recognition system. What exactly were you looking to get?”

“It was outside the navigation system room. Take a wild guess.” Your anger-powered wit met a halt, as a sharp pain ran through your whole body with great intensity.

A pained screamed was let out of your mouth, muscles tensing and thrusting your body forward against the metal boundaries that enveloped your ankles, thighs, wrists, middle and upper torso.

Once the sting stopped, you threw your body back, chest rising and falling rapidly, trying to catch your breath, as Poe circled where you stood.

“Being a smartass won’t get you anywhere.” He taunts from behind you.

“Because being honest and cooperative will get me a congratulatory snack after this, right?” you weren’t about to give in, and apparently neither was he as another violent ache ran across your body, this time for a few more seconds longer.

“You really don’t listen to people’s warnings, do you?” he snaps his intimidating eyes at you while coming back around to stand in front of you.

“I had a good teacher.” You manage to jeer through gritted teeth. That gets a reaction out of it. One that would be imperceptible to the common person, unless they had been married and in love with them, so much so that they picked up on every little quirk.

“You do realize you’re not getting out of here alive.” It wasn’t even a question, more so of a statement as his lowered head allowed his eyes to look up at you through his lashes, and your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach at the realization, and you have to blink away the tears that threatened to make an appearance.

“You would do that? Kill me?”

“It’s protocol. Resistance scum dies, either if they deliver a confession or not.”

“You won’t even say my name, but you’re okay with having your hands being the ones that put an end to my life?” he doesn’t answer, breaking the wall he had put up for a fraction of a second when his eyes wander around, away from yours. “And Resistance scum? Wow, your ego really is something.”

“Shut up.”

“The only scum I see here is the one standing in front of me, who betrayed friends and family to save his own ass”

“I SAID SHUT UP.” His left-hand slams against the metal behind you, just a few inches away from your face and you flinch, eyes closing at the sudden movement, the fleeting possibility that he could hit you crossing your mind.

When you open your eyes you see his face just inches away from yours, heavy breathing fanning against your face, his hand still rested next to you.

Your eyes are distant, looking somewhere above his other shoulder as you shift your right hand, as much as the restraints allowed, palm facing upward and fingers spread. Between your faces surges a ring, attached to a silver chain that surrounded your neck.

You bite the inside of your cheek and a single tear spills out of your right eye, his attention remaining on the object floating in front of him.

That is his mother’s wedding ring, or rather, it was, until the day he gently put it around your neck, the day that was now so far behind in time that, together with the present circumstances almost felt like a fever dream. He had insisted that you both didn’t need wedding rings as the simple act of you wearing his necklace, the one everyone knew was destined to rest against the sternum of whoever he’d end up deciding on spending the rest of his life with, was enough.

And you never took it off. Not after he started to seem more distanced. Not when he’d started to snap at you. Not when the fights started. Not when you started to sleep in separate rooms. Not when he turned on you mid-mission and started to shoot at your X-Wing. Not when, moments after that, he turned his X-Wing around, killing a few other Resistance pilots. And not when he flew away, following the First Order fleet.

You never took it off.

Closing your eyes, you relax your hand and let the ring fall back against your chest and Poe pushes his hand off the metal, taking a few steps back. He looked… ill at ease.

“What happened, Poe?” you whisper, voice begging for an answer, his name sounding on your lips for the second time today, the most it’s had in little over a year. And, surprisingly, he doesn’t correct the way you address him.

“There was never a chance of us winning. We were outnumbered, our technology wasn’t as advanced… It was either surrender or joining them.” Something tightens inside of you at the way he used us and them to reference the Resistance and the First Order. He was referring to himself as Resistance. Probably unconscious. You decide against pointing it out or correcting him.

“And you chose to join them.” You slowly nod “Was it all so meaningless to you that you could just turn your back on us?”

“The Resistance will forever be doomed.” He utters bitterly.

“You wanna talk about forever?” you question, eyes red and glazed with how wet they were, and he stares at you.

“THIS –“ you raise your voice and look down, motioning to the ring resting against your flight suit, before looking back up to meet his gaze “WAS FOREVER.”

Your words and the silence that followed hung between the two of you almost as making the air in the room thicker by the second.

“Do you ever even think about me anymore? Or does your every thought revolve around these people?” tears sting your eyes once more and you take a shaky breath in “Every morning when I wake up I still expect to have my cheek resting against your chest, but there’s only a pillow. When I go to Leia I expect you to be standing next to her, planning some sort of strategy. When I fly in my X-Wing I still expect the commlink to crackle with your voice. When I see BB rolling my way, I still look up in hopes of seeing you walk up behind him. I hate you. I hate you so much. I hate you with every fibre of my being. But I also love you in equal measure.”

Poe remains immobile, standing a few feet ahead of you, the device that controls the electric shocks tightly fisted in his left hand and he is looking at you, straight ahead. At this point, you are panting with the effort of mustering out all of those words and feelings through the tears and sobs that rattle your whole body.

“Somehow, after all the shit you’ve done, I still love-”

You don’t manage to finish those words, the second time you’d be uttering them in over a year as they die on your lips and are replaced by a glass-shattering scream of pain, as the sharp burst of electricity travels your body once more during a much more excruciatingly long time. All your muscles tense as much as they can and you forget what breathing feels like.

Once Poe’s thumb slides of the control button, your whole body jerks forward, panting, tears falling to the ground beneath your hovering feet, head down. Despite the rational choice being to shut up you need to say this. You know that he is still there, somewhere, below all that darkness that took hold of him. He is still there. And you need to get him out.

“I still lo-“

Poe’s thumb slides over the button once again, inflicting another piercing wave of torture to your already spent body. Something is, indeed, still in him as this time around he can’t bring himself to look at you and at the way the electricity is slowly but surely bringing you closer to a point of no return. And despite the tears blurring your vision, this fact doesn’t go unnoticed.

After he relieves the pressure on the button, your body no longer jolts forward but instead goes limp against the metal board, the back of your head resting against it, mouth starting to taste like blood, which peeks through the corner of your mouth.

“You won’t even look.” You struggle to get the words out, voice coming out raspy and hurting as it passes through your throat.

“If you’re going to kill me, at least be man enough to look at me when you do it.”

Your whole body is pulsing with aftershocks of pain and you are struggling to keep your eyes open, feeling your eyelids grow heavier. Just when you are about to close your eyes, just to rest them, you told yourself, you hear Poe’s voice for the first time since he told you the Resistance was doomed.

“After all this, do you still love me?” Your brain can’t quite comprehend if by this he means the torture or all the events that you crying about earlier, the ones that led him to join the First Order.

Either way, the answer would be the same.

“Yes.”

Jaw tensing, Poe pushes the button in his fist one more time, watching your body light up with the blue electric jolts that ran your full height up and down, side to side, travelling through each of your limbs eating away at the remaining life in your body. His lips were trembling just the slightest and his eyes, lit with the image in front of him, started to be glazed by tears.

He didn’t let the button go for much longer than he previously had, being completely lost inside his mind and out of it at the realisation that even after all the shit he put you through and the hurt he caused you, you still loved him.

It wasn’t until he stopped seeing you squirm that his finger release the button and your body fell completely limp against the metal, head falling down, the metal loops preventing you from falling forwards completely. He hesitated in stepping closer to you, scared of you moving or rather not, he wasn’t sure.

But his heart gave in to the breaking of itself when the latter possibility turned out to be the truth.

You weren’t moving.

You weren’t breathing.

There was blood dripping from your mouth onto the floor.

You were gone.

And he did it.

A trembling hand of his came up to push your head back against the platform holding you.

That’s when he took a good look at your lifeless face, and a shaky exhale left his lungs.

Oh, how he still loved you.

He wanted to cradle your face in his hands a lay a kiss against your forehead, run his knuckles against your cheek and wipe the blood away from your soft lips.

But they were watching him. The cameras were pointed at him and the microphones were on, preventing him from freely displaying any kind of affection towards you.

Blinking away the tears and trying to keep his body language as much stoic as possible, his gloved hand reaches up for the ring that hung from the chain draped around your neck and he pulled it down, breaking the silver link as it released the hold it had on you.

He slid the ring into the chest pocket of his uniform before walking away, towards the door, and out. Leaving the lifeless body of the only person who could ever allow him redemption behind, limp and broken.

✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸

TAGLISTS

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@blondekel77 @pedrobreakmyback

POE DAMERON TAGLIST

@niall2017

✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸

#My Favourite Ghost #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #star wars #angst #poe dameron angst #oscar isaac x reader #FirstOrder!Poe x reader #fo!poe dameron x reader

182 notes · View notes