myung is finished

Cherish It - Poe Dameron Imagine

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: mentions of death, nightmares, mourning

Summary: Poe and you have been together for two years, and missions were a part of his daily life. You had accepted it. The last one he mentioned but never told you how long it would take. It had been two weeks. Were you overreacting?

Word Count: 3133

You did it! You finished another simulated mission with minimal damage to the ship and the task completed with more than two minutes to spare. “A new record!” your supervisor told you and patted you on the back. “You deserve it.”

You nodded. “Well, I worked to get this far.”

“Where are you going?”

You looked around. You groaned. Again. Usually, at this time, you’d go to Poe’s room and tell him about what you did in training. However, Poe had been on a mission for the last two weeks, and it blew your schedule out of the water. You jogged back to your supervisor. “Sorry. Habit.”

Your supervisor hummed with raised eyebrows. “How long have you two been together?”

You blushed. “Uh, I believe it’s been almost two years.”


“Thanks.” You giggled. People must have thought the two of you were crazy. For two years you’ve been together, and every time one of you hears the other’s name you still blush like first loves.

Over the speakers, a voice announced, “Starfighter Unit-” and was interrupted by the clamor of people racing to the loading bay.

“Wait, what unit?” you asked.

Your supervisor shrugged.

You shook your head and ran to the landing bay. Maybe that was Poe’s unit. Maybe he was back from his top secret mission. He was a brilliant pilot, one of the best. General Organa even said so. He should be-

There were many starfighters of different sorts. One was missing, but the pilot was secure at another base from what you heard. You stared at one of the ships. What unit was it? Maybe it was his.


You tore your gaze from the empty ship. “Oh, Myung, how are you?” You peeked over his shoulder.

Myung looked behind him and sighed. “It’s not his unit, you know?”

You stomped your foot and cursed under your breath.

The man laughed. “You know Poe’s coming back.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and led you away from the loading bay.

You sighed. “It’s been two weeks. What could he possibly be doing?”

Your friend smiled. “Poe Dameron always comes back. You know, as he always says-”

“I can fly anything, anytime, anywhere and be back before you notice I’m gone,” you both finished. Myung continued, “Tell me again how exactly you fell for the most egotistical pilot in the Resistance.”

“No clue.” You poked Myung in the chest. “Tell me again how exactly you became the best friend of the most egotistical pilot and,” you puffed out your chest, “the best student pilot of the Resistance.”

Myung raised an eyebrow. “Who’s the student pilot?”

You elbowed Myung, and the two of you laughed. However, your laughter was cut short. A man in uniform and a march in his step approached the two of you. His eyes softened at the sight of you, even though you didn’t recognize him. He told Myung, “Lieutenant Joon, you are needed for a mission briefing. Results have come back.”

Myung nodded and gave you a quick hug. “I’ll see you later. May the force be with you.”

“May the force be with you, Myung.”

With one last look at the field, you started back to your training. You were one of the most dedicated students. Many said that if it weren’t for protocol, you’d be a pilot already. It was mostly, because, in times of war, you didn’t really have much to do besides training. You trained after hours and before. When in doubt, you were training.

You didn’t even notice two hours had passed until you saw Myung pass by. And he looked horrible. He looked sick. His skin was pale and you could see the bluish veins on his forehead. He was wringing his hands so fast that you were sure his skin would shed if he continued. His eyes were so focused on the ground, he didn’t even look up when you tapped him on the shoulder.


He jerked and grabbed your wrist and stepped to the side, ready to throw your over.

You’ve sparred with him before, so you easily evaded the attack by kicking him in the back of the knee so he lost his balance. You pushed him down to the floor by the shoulder. “Myung!”

He stared at you and gulped. “Sorry, (Y/n). I-” He stuttered.

You held out a hand for him to grab and helped him up. You rubbed his shoulder. “Are you ok?”

Myung nodded frantically. “Yeah. I’m good. I’m fine.” He shuddered a little. Once his eyes met yours, he quickly looked away. “Uh, sorry. And thanks for, uh, helping me.” He glanced around. “I’ve gotta go.”

You pulled him back. “Myung,” your tone dropped and you suddenly had the voice of a general, “what happened?”

He shook his head, his eyes glazing over with fear. Fear of what? You didn’t know. It could’ve been a load of things, really. Despite having a low status as Lieutenant, he still had a title. They told him the most general things that they kept away from the public. Where the Resistance would strike next, what information was still needed, and such. However, most news like that never struck fear into Myung so immensely. The only thing that would…

Your eyes widened in realization. “Myung, where’s Poe?” It all made sense. Poe was sent on a mission he didn’t tell you about, meaning it was classified or so simple it didn’t require a description. Either way, two weeks for such a mission was unheard of. He would’ve told you if it was that long. He would’ve!

Where could he be? If it was a simple mission, he could be stranded on a planet with no resources and just needed to be picked up by another pilot. But, that couldn’t be possible. Myung wouldn’t be so pale. No, it was more dangerous than that. Poe was missing or confirmed to be taken by the First Order.

Both possibilities made you paler than Myung. Your skin iced over in less than a second. You dropped Myung’s hand and held a hand over your mouth as the inevitable cries washed over you.

Myung reached out to you. “Nothing’s confirmed-”

“When was he supposed to be here?” you choked out.

Myung gulped. He stared at his hands and said, “Now, the mission could just be taking longer. Poe could still-”

“When, Myung?!”

Your best friend muttered with wide eyes like he didn’t want to hear it himself, “The mission should’ve taken a day, (Y/n). He has made no contact for more than 300 hours.”

Your chest clenched and suffocated your lungs. Something was crushing your lungs, and your heart was crying to be let out. You staggered down the hall until a wall stopped you from going any further.

Poe was supposed to have been here, at the base, safe and with you, two weeks ago. The mission was so simple. What could’ve gone wrong? Several things really. He could be stranded and with no resources or communications. He could be hiding on a First Order planet with a damaged ship. Worst of all, he could’ve been taken by the First Order. He could be tortured or…

You whined right into your hand. You didn’t even notice you had leaned against the wall and fell down to the floor until your tears hit the floor which was way closer than you thought.

Myung was right by your side. He hugged you as close as he could. “We don’t know what happened. He could just be recovering-”

“No one disappears for that long.” You shivered, for even the warmth of your best friend couldn’t make your skin less cold. “One week, Myung. They give pilots one week!” You gulped. “They’re not even looking for him.”

Myung gulped. “There’s no confirmation-”

“He’s gone in the eyes of the Resistance!” you yelled. “If you don’t come back in a week from your deadline, you’re considered gone, Myung! He’s-” You stopped. You pressed your palms against your eyes and tried to staunch your tears. You couldn’t even say it. You couldn’t say what inevitably must have happened. You couldn’t believe it. The best pilot in all galaxies, the pilot who stole your heart and gladly gave you his in return, the man you loved was… He was…

News spread and soon everyone was looking at you and Myung with pity in their eyes and whispers of the tragedy. You didn’t want to hear them or look at them or feel their eyes on you, so you stayed in the silence and privacy of your own room. You had passed by his room first, but you couldn’t even look at it without gasping and crying. Your room was a tad better. The room didn’t smell like him, but the pillow he used when he was in your room did. The closet wasn’t filled with his clothes, but there were a few sweaters and shirts that you had kept that glared at you every time you open your closet. Both rooms had pictures of you and him, so neither was better at that.

He was a ghost, a phantom, in your room and his, and you forgot to breathe sometimes.

Myung came by sometimes. His eyes had bags under them, and his hands were always shaking. But, he came to give you food. The two of you would eat in silence while he wrote reports and scanned reports and authorized reports. He was never seen without his files and tablets and pencils in his sleeves.

You were never seen out of your room. You had sobbed and wailed so much the first day that you got tired of crying and fell asleep. Your dreams were filled with him and precious memories so real that you believed he was still in the base. When you woke up in the evening, tears soaked your pillow, and it reminded you of why you cried. Reality caught up, and your dreams were false. You cried again.

It became a cycle of crying, nibbling, dreaming, and repeating. The dreams were more like nightmares. You were losing hope every time you woke up.

One day, you were staring at the wall when a fight had started outside. There was banging and scuffling, and it gave you a headache. You threw your head back and tried your best to tune it out. But, since… since that happened, your patience grew thinner and thinner.

You stomped out of your bed and opened your door. “Hey! Some of us need to mourn, so excuse me if I wanted some peace and quiet!” You heaved and tears burned your eyes again. You wiped your tears and glared at the culprits.

There was a doctor with a small flashlight and bandages tucked in his belt. The other man, however, was Poe, the very Poe you lost more than three weeks before. He was disheveled. His eyes looked tired, and a bruise was forming on his cheek. There were multiple cuts on his face, and there was something obviously wrong with his left leg for his weight was all on his right. Usually, in your little nightmares, he was either well or dead, never in between.

Poe stared at you. You looked horrible. Your eyes were red. Your skin was as pale as paper. Veins decorated your skin like blue chains. You were leaning against the wall, too. Obvious signs of sleep deprivation and maybe even hunger. Guilt stabbed him in the gut. This was all his doing. If he had been more careful…

“No.” You stumbled over your feet and fell to the floor. You shut your eyes and clutched your hair. “No, come on. Wake up, (Y/n). Wake up. It’s not real. It’s not real. Just another nightmare. Another nightmare is all.” You kept on chanting those phrases to yourself.  Poe was gone. You knew it. It had been three weeks, and he wasn’t coming back. You’d just wake up and feel even worse, so you had to wake up now.

“(Y/n)!” Poe shoved the doctor away and limped to you. “(Y/n), hey, it’s ok.” He reached out to brush your hair from your face.

You slapped the hand away. “No! You’re not real!” You heaved. “No, I can’t take it. Not another time. Not again. Please.” Your voice dropped to a ghost of a whisper, “Wake up, (Y/n), please.”

Poe reached out again. “(Y/n)-”


He wiped his tears. “Come on, (Y/n).” Poe hugged you to his chest and avoided your poorly aimed punches. “(Y/n), it’s me. It’s really me.”

You pounded your fists against his chest and tried pushing against his chest. However, it was no use. His warmth enveloped you, and you felt whole again. The familiar lightness and giddiness bubbled in your stomach, no matter how much you told it not to. You continued to throw your own punched at him. Right. Left. Right again.

But it was tiring. Not long after, your muscles were tired, and you couldn’t lift them without difficulty. Your body relaxed, and each curve fit exactly into his body. Two pieces of a puzzle finally joined and connected, never to be taken apart.

You sobbed. “No, it’s not real,” you whispered. You clenched your fists and scooted as much away from him as you could.

Poe pulled you in tighter. He kissed the top of your head and continued to brush his fingers through your hair. He gulped before asking, “Casanova, how can you tell if you’re dreaming?”

You froze. You hadn’t heard that nickname, let alone that question. Poe asked you that many times after a certain mission. He had come home unconscious. When he finally woke up, he was scared to sleep. He would rush to your room, for his dreams were always set on base, and ask you if he was dreaming. He’d ask you how he could tell he was dreaming.

You shook your head. “Uh, count fingers.” You stared at your hands. There were ten like they should be.

Poe held your hands and tapped each of your fingers gently. You blushed before you could stop yourself.

“Ok,” Poe smiled a brilliant smile, “ten fingers. What else?”

When he looked at you like that, words escaped your brain. His eyes were beautiful and comforting, like the cup of coffee you usually got. How is it even possible that someone with a bruise on his cheek and cuts on his forehead could still smile like the sun shines?

Poe laughed a little. “Casano-o-ova,” he sang a bit. “How else?”

“Right, uh, if I can read the same thing twice… and it doesn’t change.”

Poe pointed at his uniform. “What does it say?”

“It says, ‘Poe Dameron.’” Tears brimmed in your eyes.

He nodded. Poe brushed your hair behind your ear. “Good, you’re doing amazing, my Casanova. Now, read it one more time.”

You laughed and smiled. “Poe Dameron.” It was him. It had to be. How could a figment of your imagination be like this? So breath-takingly considerate?

“Ok, almost done. One more test, ok? You remember?”

You nodded. “Breathing even though your nose and mouth are covered.” You licked your lips. “Yeah, that’s it. Breathing when you have no way of-”

Poe was suddenly really close to you. His forehead rested against yours, and his hands were tangled in your hair. “You wanna plan this together?”

You giggled. He was real. He really was real. “Yeah.”

“So, I can cover your mouth. Try covering your nose?”

You reached out and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Good plan.” You pressed your lips against his. Tingles ran down your spine and right to your feet. His warmth, his scent, his lips were so familiar and comforting. It was like drinking a nice glass of water after a hearty and rich meal. It was refreshing, and it was home.

When Poe pulled away, he was smiling like he had won the war against the First Order. He tapped your nose. “You didn’t cover your nose, Casanova.”

With all the buzzing in your head, the only word you could say was, “Nope.”

Poe rubbed your cheek. He kissed you again. “You could be dreaming.”

“No,” you shook your head, “I couldn’t dream this up.” You ran your finger down his wounds. His many wounds. The memories of the last few weeks, the emptiness, the mourning, the pain, filled your thoughts. “You were dead. What happened to you?” You shot up to a kneeling position so you could be slightly taller than he was. You turned his head to examine the bruise. “Poe-”

“I’m so sorry. I should’ve been more careful. They knew I was coming. They caught me for a while, but I escaped. And I was stranded somewhere and next thing I know-”

“Hey, I’ll scold you for whatever you did later.” You kissed his forehead, carefully avoiding the cuts. “Right now, you need the med bay.” You pulled him up from the ground and wrapped his arm around your shoulder so you could support some of his weight. You muttered his catch-phrase, “I fly this, that, there, and be back before you notice I’m gone.” You scoffed. “Before I notice. Psh!”

Poe laughed a little. “You’re gonna kill me, aren’t you, Casanova?”

“Mhm. As long as Myung doesn’t kill you first.”

Poe cursed under his breath.

It had been a month since Poe had risen from the dead. You and Myung were by his side every step of the way. General Organa even stopped by sometimes.

You were watching Myung help Poe in physical therapy.

“Congratulations, Pilot,” the general greeted you.

You jerked. “General! Thank you.” You turned your attention to Myung and Poe.

General Organa stood next to you. “He has a strong heart, that man.”

You sighed. “That he does, General.”

“I take it you’re the reason for that, Ms. (Y/l/n).”

You gasped. The room got a few degrees hotter, and you could feel your cheeks and ears suffer from the heat. “What do y-you mean by that, General?” you stuttered.

The wise woman smiled and straightened her back. “I know love when I see it. You’re his, how does he say it, Casanova?”

Your cheeks were burning.

The general laughed. “Don’t worry, dear. He and you both need each other. It’s… simply breathtaking. With the First Order on the horizon and both of you as pilots, things like this are rare. Cherish it.”

You smiled softly. Poe was making so much progress. He caught you staring and waved a little. He winked at you before blowing a kiss.

You laughed and caught the kiss in your hand before pocketing it. “Trust me, General. I will.”

I got out another one!!! I am so happy to be back, guys! I missed writing these. Anyway, angst and fluff all in one. Also my OC, Myung! I love that dude. Hope you enjoy!