#poe dameron x forcesensitive!reader

[stormkobra-5]

The House of Fett: Part 4 Sneak Peek

Not so tired after three cups of caff, it had done nothing to curb his dark circles, or the worry in his dark gaze. Where were you? Had you gotten a job? Had you made your way across the Dunesea yet? Were you stranded out there, somewhere in the sands? Would you try to reach out to him if you were? What if you couldn't? What if you were knocked out cold? What if Ren had you? His mind spiraled with a million questions, and eventually he decided to brave the fickle Dyad connection just to ensure you were alright.

Poe closed his eyes and concentrated. Momentarily, he felt a shift in the Force.

Me’ven?

He loved how your thoughts were primarily in Mando’a. It was as if Galactic Basic were your second language. At the sound of your voice, albeit confused, he felt a sense of profound relief wash over him, allowing his eyes to open. Thank the Maker, miracle, I—

He stopped short, stunned.

Poe gaped at his surroundings, trying to make sense of them. He was no longer in the dim mess hall of the Resistance Base on D’Qar. He was… He was in a cantina. On Tatooine.

You sat across from him, position lax. To an inexperienced eye, you might have even seemed relaxed. One arm bracing your weight on the table, legs bent outward and your other hand resting on your knee. Hell, even Poe would have been fooled a few days ago. But now he knew you. He knew you sat as if you couldn’t care less about what might happen because your whistling birds were locked on various targets. Your flamethrower (the arm on the table) was prepped and ready. You could take anything that came at you, and that was without even moving.

At the moment, however, he was more concerned about what the hell he was suddenly doing on Tatooine. “Uhhh…”

“Luke wrote about this,” You answered his question before he could voice it. “Qui-Gon spoke of it, too. Dyads transcend time and space, Poe.”

“Huh…” He cleared his throat awkwardly. Why was he being awkward? “You doing okay?”

“For now,” You replied, “I think I might have a job. Just waiting on the client, now. I should be heading across the Dunesea tomorrow morning at the latest.”

Poe was reaching across the table before he knew it, taking your hand in his and gripping it tightly. He could feel you. As if you were really in front of him. “...Be careful, Miracle,” Poe said softly, “Please.”

You took his hand in both of yours. “I will, Poe. I promise. You forget… I have a unique connection to the Tuskens. Once I have a speeder, I’m home-free.”

Poe jerked at the sudden sensation of falling forward. His hands slammed on the table to steady himself, once again in the mess on base. L’ulo stood beside him, watching with concern. “You alright, son? You spaced out for a minute there.”

“I-I’m fine…” It was a weak lie. Especially when his breath was uneven as it was, his heart pounding in his ears. He felt something in his hands and slowly opened them, practically melting at what he saw.

A bracelet made of sand-glass beads and clay on iron-red twine, old and worn. Poe almost teared up right there. This was possibly the most important thing you could have left with him, and he wondered if you’d done it on purpose or not.

You’d had the bracelet since you were a baby. When Boba had adopted you in the gai bal manda ceremony of your people, he had given you a red string bracelet with a singular bead on it carved into the shape of a mythosaur skull. For every year, a glass bead was added. For every important event in your life, it was carved clay. Nineteen gold-red beads to mark your age, and several clay ones. The mythosaur skull, to mark your “birth.” A bead with the effigy of a knife carved into it, memorializing your Mandalorian training. Another with the symbol of the Jedi Order, just after the eighth bead. There was one that bore twin sabers next to it. There was one with simply the word Ben, marking the year you met him. One with a helmet after the sixteenth one, to commemorate the day you finally received your armor. One with the Slave and another with a tracking fob to show the beginning of your bounty-hunting career and the day you were gifted your father’s ship. Hell, you even marked the day of the assault on the Jedi Academy, with the silhouette of the temple on fire. What shocked him was one just after the tenth glass bead.

A clay bead with the symbol of the Republic Navy on it.

That’s where he was then.

And after the seventeenth bead, one that simply said wish. You wished you’d kissed him that night.

The bracelet was a Tusken tradition that Boba had learned in his years after surviving falling into the Sarlacc Pit, before he became the Daimyo of Mos Espa. He’d learned it in his “rebirth.” It was given a Mandalorian name for you, though. Jate’kara. Good luck. A remembrance of fate’s path in the past and something that may serve as a warning for the future. Respect for what had been and what may come.

You’d never taken it off your wrist in your life.

And here you were, giving it to him. Across the vast distances of the galaxy, you were giving it to him. Poe turned it over, hearing the sound of clicking beads and becoming instantly relaxed by it. Just after the nineteenth bead, he saw a new one. The edges rough, the clay freshly-carved. Poe faintly smiled when he saw what it said, tracing his thumb over it.

Dyad.

You’d just given him one of the most important things in the entire galaxy to you. This bracelet held your life in memory. And you trusted him with it.

“Son?” L’ulo questioned softly. Poe had forgotten he was there. His brow furrowed, red eyes narrowing. “Are you okay, Poe?”

Poe forced a nod, unable to take his eyes off the bracelet as he traced his fingertips over the beads. “Yeah… I’m okay.”

[nolanell]

Flying Blind: A Star Wars Soulmate AU

Poe Dameron x Female!ForceSensitive!RebelOfficer!Reader

Part of @ohnopoe's Secret Santa 2021 Exchange, big thank you for organising! This is a gift for @mariesackler; I hope you enjoy!

Word Length: ~3k words

Warnings: Angst, an attack on a rebel base happens, Poe's X-Wing is damaged and crash lands, Poe is unconcious and injured. She/Her pronouns are used throughout as per the Secret Santa request guidelines; Reader is otherwise undescribed physically. Reader does spend time in an underground office, mess hall and cabin (sleeping quarters). Reader spends time in the command room during the attack on the rebel base and also is close to the crash landing as it happens. Reader panics during the attack/discovering Poe is injured and her reaction is described. Please let me know if I missed anything.

Notes: In this Soulmate AU, you are born with a tattoo that gives you a clue as to who your soulmate is. Once you meet them, you get another clue as to who they are, the idea being you combine them and work it out.

Divider by @firefly-graphics // Moodboard by me

It was bizarre to think how much of an impact that her soulmate had already had on her life, even though they hadn't met each other yet. She wondered if anyone had such a conspicuous soulmate tattoo like she did; not that she would ever want to, but her tattoo would draw suspicion if she had joined the First Order. It was cool though, she had to admit; a schematic-style drawing of an X-Wing. It came with its questions; were they a pilot? Were they a mechanic? An engineer? So many possibilities. She also wondered what her soulmate's tattoo was, to represent her.

He'd mulled over it many a long night, usually after an unsuccessful or unrewarding mission. When he was alone with his thoughts because he wasn't exhausted enough to fall asleep the minute his head hit the pillow, or because he was questioning his very contribution to the cause. More importantly, what would you say? How could he face you, a Jedi, when he had a string of unsuccessful missions under his belt over the last few weeks? Hopefully, he would be able to get some more completed that ended more favourably before meeting you in person. But also, you were a Jedi. He assumed, anyway. Why else would he have a Jedi Crest as his soulmate tattoo? They could, admittedly, be more complex than that and perhaps you weren't a Jedi but it was somehow relevant to who you were. It seemed unlikely though; either you were a Jedi or you were not. Hopefully, Poe thought to himself, you were not.

She arrived at the Rebel Base shortly after dawn, the inky blue of the sky making way for a hazy purple and then finally into a light blue as the suns rose higher into the sky. She was greeted by an officer.

'Where is Commander Dameron?' she asked with an eyebrow raised.

'We received some last minute intelligence, ma'am, and he deployed with his squadron,' the officer explained.

She nodded, her shoulders sagging slightly. Her orders were to meet with the Commander as soon as possible and to plan the Rebellion's next major move. Her commanding officer had learnt of a new First Order Base being established near to this Rebel one, and to take it out before full completion and operation would be a huge step for the Rebellion. As such, she had been sent to liaise with Commander Dameron, who was commanding officer here following the passing of General Organa. Despite the death of Supreme Leader Snoke, the First Order still tried to hold its grip on the galaxy, not unlike the Empire before it. There was still plenty of work for the Rebels, and to not be able to meet with the Commander immediately was hindering that work.

'Do you know when the Commander and his squadron are expected back?' she asked.

'It shouldn't be too long, ma'am; as I understand it was a recon mission, and they left this time yesterday. I would expect after debrief that you should be able to meet with Commander Dameron in about six hours from now,' the officer answered. 'In the meantime, would you like to be set up somewhere?'

'I'd appreciate it if that could be arranged,' she nodded. The officer led her through a door built into the side of a huge mound of soil, the size of an average cantina. As the doors opened, she saw a tunnel extend, sloping downward, until the dim light gave out and the end could not be seen. The officer led her in, walking down the tunnel and stopping at a door with a display that indicated the room was not in permanent use.

'All yours, ma'am,' the officer stood at attention at a 90 degree angle to the door as it opened.

She took a step in, looked around for a second then turned to face the doorway. 'Thank you, officer. Please inform me the moment I am able to speak to Commander Dameron.'

'Of course, ma'am,' the officer nodded, then left back up the tunnel.

Sitting down at the desk, and pulling datapads from her bag, she began pouring over the information she had once again. Her eyes kept drifting to the tattoo on the inside of her left wrist. She had a feeling that she was going to meet her soulmate on this mission. She exhaled sharply out of her nose as the realisation really dawned on her; this could potentially jeparadise the whole mission. She needed to speak to her commanding officer; retrieving her comm from her bag, she began to initiate a call.

'News already? I am impressed,' her commanding officer greeted her within seconds of the call request.

'Not yet,' she shook her head, then took a deep breath. 'I am concerned that circumstances beyond my control may put my mission into danger. I believe I will meet my soulmate during this mission.'

Her commander let out a slow, gentle sigh. 'I appreciate your honesty and your candidness, but I cannot withdraw you from this mission solely due to your… sensitivity implying that this may happen. It happens when it does, and there's nothing we can do.'

'But…' she began in protest.

'Enough, officer,' her commander cut her off. 'Do you think General Organa shied away when she realised she would probably meet her soulmate while smuggling the plans for the Death Star?'

'No, no I don't,' she replied quietly as she looked down at the desk.

'Exactly,' her commander replied. 'I understand your hesitation, I truly do, but I also know that life keeps going and this mission cannot wait, and needs my best. Is that understood, officer?'

At the firmness of the last sentence, her eyes snapped up. 'Yes, commander.'

'Good. Please report to me with your progress as soon as appropriate,' the commander ended the call.

She glanced at the time once her commander finished the call. Three and a half hours had passed since she had settled in this room. She rubbed at her eyes, blinking slowly, to relax from the solid concentration. Standing up and stretching her arms over her head, she left the office and began looking for the mess to get a mug of caf.

Once returned, the mug steaming on the desk next to her, she continued studying the documents and schematics on her datapads, trying to make notes, making plan A, B, C… all the way through and then plan AA, BB, CC… Checking the time again, she noticed it had been almost seven hours since she first arrived. Where was that squadron? She hadn't been informed of anything, and she couldn't feel anything to suggest the mission had gone wrong. Picking up her mug, she left the office and made her way up the tunnel, blinking as the light of the suns at their highest point was blinding compared to the dim light of inside. She scanned the area once her eyes had acclimatised, looking for the officer who had greeted her.

She wasn't looking for too long when the officer spotted her first and walked over. 'I apologise, ma'am, for the delay. The briefing took longer than expected. The commander will be with you in the next few minutes; if you wait in your office, he'll make his way to you.'

She gave the officer a quick nod, turning on her heel and returning to the office. It was frustrating being kept waiting so long, but debriefs could not be rushed. Sitting back in her chair, she rubbed her eyes again and took a couple of slow, deep drags from her mug.

Commander Dameron did not keep her waiting long. A few minutes after she had sat down, he opened her door, still in flight suit, looking dishevelled and defeated.

'Commander,' she stood up, straightening her stance to attention as she looked at him.

'At ease, officer,' he sighed distractedly as he sat down. 'And please, call me Poe.'

'Poe,' she nodded, sitting down too and holding her mug, drumming her fingers on it as she was unsure what to do.

'I know your commanding officer and it seems like a pretty big deal that he sent you. Why exactly are you here, officer?' Poe asked. Despite the evident fatigue, he seemed every bit the funny, wisecracking man you had heard he was.

'My commanding officer has learnt there is a First Order Base under construction and that this Rebel Base is the closest,' she explained. 'My commander has sent me here to work with you, Poe, to destroy it before it can be completed, as this would be an important victory for us.'

'Ah, the big shot commander thinks I need a babysitter?' Poe asked, arching an eyebrow at her.

She didn't know what to say, and looked back at him.

He broke out into a grin. 'I'm kidding, officer,' he smiled.

She let out a soft giggle. She could feel he was a good man, trying to do his best, and she liked him already.

'How about we get some more caf, you can share what intel you have, and we can start working out how we'll do this?' Poe asked, nodding at your mug.

'I could do with waking up,' you nodded, standing from your chair.

'Seven hours in here is enough to make anyone start falling asleep,' Poe smirked as he led the way to the mess.

When they arrived, it took much longer than her first trip as so many wanted to speak to their commander. He introduced her to every single one of them, explaining she was here to support him on the next mission and that she was one of their own, as far as he and everyone else was concerned. She could understand why she liked him already; he was a good leader, he had the respect of everyone he led, but he had earnt that respect, and did not take it for granted. She got a warm, happy feeling when the others spoke to him and she felt that working with him was going to be an overall positive experience.

Back in the office, some thirty minutes later, she poured over schematics, documents and plans with Poe between sips of caf and occasional laughter. He was easy to work with, receptive to suggestions, and was willing to step back and listen when she clearly knew more on something than he did. After a few hours, her shoulders began to slouch, her eyelids droop, and Poe could not stop yawning.

'Let's get you a cabin, you need to rest,' Poe smiled warmly, standing up and stretching. He led her deeper into the underground building, further down the sloping tunnel, to a network of cabin rooms. Poe found an unallocated one and assigned it to her.

'Thank you Comm- thank you, Poe,' she smiled, holding out her left hand in offer of handshake.

'You're welcome,' Poe smiled, and then glancing down, his eyes widened a little. 'If.. if you don't mind me asking, is that your soulmate tattoo?'

'It is,' she smiled, looking down at it. 'It's kinda pushed me into this career. Wouldn't get very far in the First Order.'

Poe laughed out loud. She was funny; he liked that about her.

'What about you?' she asked.

Poe looked down at his wrist and pulled up his sleeve. He showed her his tattoo of the Jedi Crest.

'Your soulmate is a Jedi?' she asked incredulously.

'Maybe,' Poe shrugged. 'Not got my second one yet. Kinda hoping it's a cryptic one. Can you imagine not being able to be with your soulmate?'

She nodded slowly. 'That would be difficult. I hope they aren't, for your sake. Good night, Poe. See you tomorrow?'

'Tomorrow. Hopefully we can plan a recon for the day after,' Poe nodded.

She saw it the minute she woke up. On the inside of her other wrist, flames snaking up to the crook of her elbow. Reds, yellows and oranges. She had met countless people yesterday, so she couldn't be sure exactly who the person was. Though she had a feeling she was going to find out very soon; action was never very far away on a Rebel Base and it felt like it was only a matter of time. She dressed, then opened her cabin door and headed to the mess; before she could get there, she heard sirens sounding and an almost immediate flurry of activity.

Pressing herself against the wall of the main tunnel, she picked up pieces of frantic yells and garbled explanations as she kept out of the way and let everyone do their part. As much as she could probably leap into an X-Wing, she had no assigned squadron, no assigned leader, and would be flying blind; more of a liability than an asset. It was a frustrating case of staying grounded and hoping for the best. That would have been fine, were it not for the fear that gripped her in the chest once all the X-Wings were deployed. She knew now that her soulmate was a pilot, they were here, and had been deployed. The command centre was a cacophony of sound; comms officers frantically taking and sending messages of coordinates and maneuvers, commanders and XOs following screens which were tracking positions. It was deafening, and impossible for even an experienced outsider to follow. She stood by, should she be asked for advice, or maybe to even be ordered to jump in an X-Wing. She'd given up on following the several voices throughout the room, just paying attention to the feeling in her chest. It was building, spreading through her torso and becoming more intense until a voice cut through the noise around her.

'Commander Dameron, come in! Commander Dameron, please acknowledge,' the comms officer's voice was urgent, frantic.

Everything slowed down. Everything became silent. She knew now. She knew. She ran outside, looking up at the sky, trying to make out anything above. As she shielded her eyes from the suns, she saw the outline of an X-Wing. It was coming through the clouds, descending rapidly. As it got closer, she could make out one of the engines was on fire. The X-Wing was coming even closer, not slowing down. She heard one of the ground crew yell something; rooted to the spot, she ignored it, and then felt someone yank on her arm and pull her behind cover. The next part happened so fast, it couldn't have been more than a few seconds, but it still felt like an eternity. The X-Wing hit the ground, the metal screeching along the runway and the shape of its shadow flickering over her as it passed. As the last edge of the shadow came over her, a wave of heat engulfed her as the flames from the engine still burned. The screeching of metal on runway continued until it eventually faded and then stopped. As soon as it did, she lept out from behind her cover and over to the X-Wing, He was in there. She knew. She had to get him out.

As she approached it and frantically started climbing its frame, she could see him inside. His chest was rising and falling steadily, he had some cuts to his forehead but she couldn't see any running blood. She could feel he was alive, and she needed to get him some attention. She broke open the cockpit, undid his harness and pulled him out. Carrying him in her arms, she sprinted as fast as she could to the med bay. She couldn't hear anything going on around her. Nothing existed but him, and the need for him to survive. Even her own scream of 'Commander Dameron needs help!' seemed muffled to her ears. She did sort of notice a flurry around her once she shouted it, everyone seemed to leap into action. She heard herself, muffled, tell the chief medic that she wanted to help and to just instruct her. Luckily, the medic did, and she was given instructions, which she focused on; again the world melted away and it was just her, the chief medic and Poe. Slowly, she could make out that the people around them had backed away, and it was just the medic, her and Poe actually in the room. Eventually, the chief medic put a kindly hand on her shoulder, smiling down at her in the chair she had eventually sunk into, and said that everything had been done that could be for the commander, and he would wake up when he was ready. She smiled weakly back; she thanked the medic for everything he had done and then said she would wait with Commander Dameron if that was okay, which the chief medic agreed to.

She wasn't sure how long had passed, but eventually she saw his eyelashes flutter, his eyelids crinkle and something like a hiss of pain crossed with a groan of exhaustion come out. Her heart lurched in her chest as she sat up straighter, his eyes opening and focussing on her.

'Poe! Stars, you made me worry!' she exclaimed, before she knew what she was doing.

Poe gave a raspy chuckle. 'I made you worry? I was the one thinking you'd need a medic!'

She frowned in confusion. 'What?'

'Saw this when I woke up this morning,' Poe nodded slightly down to one of his wrists, which showed the Red Sigil, the accepted symbol for medics. 'Thought they were going to need help.'

'But… how did you know?' she asked, still frowning.

'I heard you ask if you could help,' Poe grinned at her. 'I knew then, it had to be you.'

'I knew… I was in the command centre, when your comm went down. I knew before you even landed,' she grinned back.

'But,' Poe started, nodding to her flame tattoo. 'How could you if you couldn't see?'

'I could just tell,' she replied, still grinning, and nodding at his Jedi tattoo.

'Wait. You're… sensitive?' Poe gasped.

She nodded.

'And here I was worried you were gonna reveal yourself as a Jedi! You had me terrified!' Poe laughed, throwing his head back on the pillow in relief.

'I guess we're even then, Commander,' she arched an eyebrow at him, laughing.

'I guess so,' Poe grinned, squeezing her hand.

[stormkobra-5]

The House of Fett Series Masterlist

[Main Masterlist]

Synopsis: You’re Y/N Janghis Fett, the only daughter of the infamous bounty hunter himself. When you were eight years old, you discovered quite by accident that you were Force-sensitive, and so your father Boba sought out the Jedi Knight Luke Skywalker, who would, for the next eight years of your life, be your mentor in the ways of the Force– but you are no Jedi. You are a Mandalorian, even if you do happen to wield lightsabers. However, when the Sith Lord Kylo Ren– whom you once knew as Ben– begins to seek out your old mentor for terrible purposes, you’re met with the familiar face of Poe Dameron, who is requesting your aid, and you agree to help him only once. But when Luke is not where you think, sending you and Poe on a galaxy-wide hunt for your elusive mentor, you’re forced to work with him even longer than you had originally planned. This complicates things greatly, because you’ve been helplessly in love with him since the day you met him, and unrequited love is a painful thing indeed.

Series Rating/Warnings: 18+ for graphic and intense violence, strong language, depictions of trauma, PTSD, use of alcohol, mention and witnessing of drug usage, and some NSFW content.

Excerpts: || Blades of Fett || Ren’s Approach || A Bond Stronger Than Stardust || Sneak Peeks/Scenes || Survive || Jate’kara ||

Posters: || The Creed and the Six Actions || Everything || Mando and the Pilot || Comic Panel || Original Poster || Binary Sunset || Family || Legacies || Fett's Resolve || Across the Cosmos || Kin || Mando’a || Disturbance || Final Character Poster || Starcrossed Lovers || Connected || Yavin IV & Tython ||

Guides to the Realm: || Timeline || Lightsabers || Ships || Planets || Weapons ||

Spotify Playlists: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7jWYOdC2HQj6O9Z6YtCviB?si=Pk0VYRIcT8ae_jg7Soa1cw

Prologue: || Part 1 || Part 2 ||

Before the Awakening: || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 ||

Resistance: One-Shot

The Force Awakens: || Part 7 || Part 8 || Part 9 ||

The Last Jedi: || Part 10 || Part 11 || Part 12 ||

Resistance Reborn: || Part 13 ||

Allegiance: || Part 14 || Part 15 || Part 16 ||

Age of Resistance: One-Shot

Rise of the Resistance: One-Shot

Spark of Resistance: || Part 17 || Part 18 ||

The Rise of Skywalker: || Part 19 || Part 20 || Part 21 ||

Duel of the Fates: || Part 22 || Part 23 || Part 24 ||

Aftermath: || Part 25 || Part 26 || Part 27 ||

Series Finale: || Part 28 ||

Shorts: || Jaster Mereel || Legacy || Mirjahaal || Darth Airdh Vocen || Ren’s Regret ||

If anyone wants to be tagged, just give me a shout! ^^

[stormkobra-5]

The House of Fett: Part 3

Pairing: Poe Dameron x ForceUser!Mando!Reader

Chapter No.: Part 3/28

[Part 1] [Part 2]

[Series Masterlist] [Main Masterlist]

Summary: You’re Y/N Janghis Fett, the only daughter of the infamous bounty hunter himself; but you are a rare Force-wielding Mandalorian, having been trained by Luke Skywalker but refusing to become a Jedi. When the legendary ace pilot of the Resistance, Commander Poe Dameron– unfortunately, your unrequited love interest– comes to request your aid in finding your old mentor, you can’t refuse. But after visiting the Jedi Temple within the Academy on Tython, things are now… complicated. You’re being hunted by Kylo Ren, once your brother Ben, who sensed your presence at the temple. According to your long-dead Gray Jedi mentor, Luke is nowhere you’ll find him easily. The Resistance is now doubling the search for Jedi expert Lor San Tekka, who may have information on Luke’s last-known whereabouts. But… now you’ve also somehow formed a Dyad with Poe, complicating things between you– and potentially, complicating the mission.

A/N: Green lightsaber breaks indicate that the following is from the Reader’s perspective. X-wing breaks indicate that the following is from Poe’s perspective. At some point, I ran out of image slots and so had to use bold print of their last names to determine POV changes.

Notes: Woooooo!!! It’s finally here!!! Part 3 of my personal fave!!! I did tweak the comics a bit, but not very much. I tried to keep it as canon-compliant as possible.

Mando’a:

Ner cyar’ika: my beloved

Ner runi/ner uvete: my soul/my world

Utreekov: idiot

Buir: father

Harran: hell

Me’ven: Huh? What? [Bewildered, stunned]

Bic ni skana’din— sushir at ni!: This is pissing me off— listen to me!

Ba’slan shev’la: Strategic disappearance

Rating/Warnings: 18+, canon typical violence and gore, NSFW themes, male masturbation implied, mention of sex/knowing how sex works, reader is a virgin/inexperienced, making out, non-sexual nudity, mention of wounds/injuries, wounds/injuries described, angst, pining, fluff, yearning, idiots to lovers, strong language, Terex is a bitch, I’m sure there are plenty more I’m probably missing, spoilers for the Poe Dameron comics

“Well,” said the voice of your Master, jolting you and Poe from your unconscious states— and causing a chaotic mess of tangling limbs as the two of you tried to hurriedly scramble to your feet in confusion. “It’s about time you got up.”

“What the fuuuck,” Poe muttered as he untangled his legs from yours, face flushed. “The hell happened?!”

You groaned as your aching body protested your sudden movements, muscles cramping and tense. It was Qui-Gon, however, that answered his query. “You felt it, did you not? The bonding between you and Y/N?”

“Bonding?” Poe demanded breathlessly, shielding his face with a hand from the harsh glares of morning sunlight. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It’s rare,” Qui-Gon answered, and you felt dread settle in the pit of your stomach. “But it has been known to happen. Something connects you two, something… unique. And now the Force has drawn you even closer. What happened when you connected was the bonding energy of a new Dyad.”

“Pardon the fuck?” You whispered, but before Qui-Gon could respond, you leapt to your feet to face him in defiance; and maybe a little disbelief. “A Dyad, Master? Between myself and Poe?”

“He’s Force-sensitive,” Qui-Gon pointed out, nonplussed. “You felt it.”

Indeed.

You had felt quite a bit of Poe Dameron’s mind.

Perhaps too much.

In that vast blackness filled only with stardust through which you fell, you witnessed various moments that stuck with Poe from his life, perhaps not all of them good. The memories that stuck with him most over the course of his lifetime were shown to you, not the best, not the most sad. Simply the ones that impacted him.

You knew that he’d seen the same of you.

And you’d felt his confusion, a convoluted mess of surprise and shock, when Poe saw that meeting him had stuck with you clearly. That his nicknames for you gave you butterflies. That that night, when you’d patched him up, your biggest regret, once you knew that he was alright of course, was that you hadn’t taken that moment to kiss him. Taken that moment to kiss him so that he would never know.

And you knew he felt your questions now, just as you felt his. A Dyad. Yes, you understand. Rare, without much information about it to go around, a Dyad is an unbreakable bond, one which can span the very vastness of space itself. You’d felt him using the Force. Manipulating it. Calling your name.

Ner cyar’ika.

He’d called you that, hadn’t he?

“I-I don’t know what a Dyad is,” Poe stammered as he stood, his next question clearly evident on his face as he surveyed your surroundings, surroundings which were most definitely not Tython. Old trees adorned with red, orange, and golden leaves grew tall and straight around you, dropping their foliage into a crunching mess of color beneath your feet. The sapphire sky held two moons instead of one, and you stood on the precipice of a steep hill lined with stones and roots. “What the hell…”

“A Dyad,” Qui-Gon said, crossing his arms, “Is a strong bond between two individuals, usually Force-sensitive. It can span vast distances of time, space… No matter the circumstances, communication is possible. Often, those bonded with a Dyad can speak to one another without using their voice.”

Poe took it in stoically, although his wide eyes and parted lips showed his surprise. “So… Y/N and I…”

“Share a Dyad,” Qui-Gon finished for him, nodding to emphasize the fact that, yes, there’s now a deep link between the two of you. One that can never be broken. “I must leave you now,” Qui-Gon continued, “But look out over the valley, and you shall see your destination. You’ll be able to leave once you’ve completed your trials.”

You turned your head to look, stopping short as you caught sight of what your master had meant. For a moment, you thought your eyes may have deceived you, or perhaps your mind; it was impossible, surely. But you’d just formed an inexplicable bond to Poe Dameron, who apparently has some level of Force-sensitivity. Surely nothing can be that impossible anymore? Meanwhile, Poe was still trying to figure out what your master had implied. “Wait— destination? Why do we have a destination? Where’d he go? Trials?”

“Poe,” You interrupted, and he froze. You felt him tense, realizing it was the first time you’d called him by his first name since he’d met you as a child. You didn’t have to say look. He already knew what you were going to say.

“Holy fuck,” Poe breathed when he seen what you did.

Across the valley, sheltered in a nook on the side of a snowy mountain, was the Temple of Mortis. An ancient Jedi structure from the days of the Old Republic, possibly older, it was a fabled and legendary place. All Jedi knew of it, but knew not where it was. In your earliest days of training you had often told Luke that one day, you would find it.

“You may find it in meditation, little mynock, but no one to this day has found its true location. That is a feat which perhaps none will succeed in doing.”

You didn’t have to explain to Poe the significance of this. He stared at you in awe as he was able to hear your astonishment without you actually speaking, before you closed off your mind a bit. The connection you could not stop, but maybe your thoughts could remain your own. Poe swallowed hard when he felt your mind retreat from his, turning his dark gaze to the megalithic ruins that loomed so close and yet so far. “So, what? We’re stuck here until we go inside that temple?”

“That’s what Qui-Gon said,” You quipped.

Poe’s jaw nearly hit the dirt. “Q… Qui-Gon?! That was Qui-Gon Jinn, the legendary Jedi from all the kids’ books you read in school?! The Qui-Gon?!”

“I first met him that night at the Force tree,” you admitted, although you weren’t entirely sure why you did so— although it didn’t matter much anymore, did it? “The night I fixed your mother’s ship?”

Poe nodded, recalling the memory. Recalling your memory. “Yeah…” He signed, shaking off the thought and facing the mountain. His hand ran over his face with exasperation before both came to settle on his hips. “That’s a long-ass walk, that’s for damn sure.”

You half considered using your jet pack; it might half the distance. But this was a world of Force meditation, and the journey was meant to occur without any detours or methods considered “cheating.” It was like a dream state. And on that note, you realized that Poe worried for what would happen to your bodies, if you’d fully been transported, and he especially worried for BB-8. You sighed, unsure of how to explain it so that he would understand.

“Dumb it down for me,” He suggested, making you jump. Poe’s sideways glance made butterflies erupt in your abdomen, butterflies you had to try desperately to quell. You knew that it did little good; Poe already knew things now. Things about you that you had never told anyone.

Even your feelings for him, you were sure.

“It’s like a dream,” You finally managed. “Our minds are here, whereas our bodies are there; time passes differently here. Only a few moments will pass for our physical forms, but days can pass for our minds.”

Poe nodded as he surveyed the valley below, as if he were trying to calculate the quickest path to the temple. But these paths were tricky; one that appeared shorter would only prove the same length as all the others, in the end. Or, so you had heard.

“You’ve never been here, huh?” Poe asked softly, and you realized that he wasn’t reading your thoughts or emotions, or even trying to, although it was incredibly hard to do that, you knew. You were having difficulty not doing so, your mind occasionally slipping into the raw connection between you and catching half-formed glimpses of words, memories, emotions… It always made him flinch, and you felt it a breach of privacy. You, the one trained by not one, but two Jedi Masters of legendary proportions, were having trouble getting your mind under control, whereas Poe— merely Force-sensitive— was easily resisting from reading your thoughts.

You belatedly realized you’d been staring at him silently, lost in your worries, and decided to answer before he could think you wanted to try and communicate telepathically. “No. I’ve never been here. But all Jedi have heard the stories.”

“You’re not a Jedi,” Poe pointed out with an eyebrow raise.

He was correcting you for you, not out of anything else. Like he didn’t want you to accidentally call yourself a Jedi in this place, or any. “...No, I’m not. But Luke was. Most of my physical learning was through observing his classes, remember? I was never allowed to participate.”

Poe nodded, eyes finding yours meaningfully. “Yeah… I remember.” You knew he wasn’t talking about recalling you having mentioned it. He’d seen those memories of your first classes with Luke Skywalker. You straightened, nodding in understanding, before setting off down the hill. Poe didn’t question you; he followed wordlessly, which was very much unlike him.

If Poe had a credit for every time he thought the words oh fuck, what the fuck, or anything like, he’d be rich. The richest guy in the galaxy, maybe. The oh fucks were reserved for when his mind slipped up, when he found himself hearing your voice without you actually speaking. It took every ounce of concentration he had and then some, but if he tripped or slipped, all bets were off. He’d hear bits and pieces of your thoughts, feel little slivers of your emotions.

His favorite was when his foot slipped on a rock as he was climbing up a steep cliff of boulders, ahead of you, and his concentration went with his balance. He’d fallen forward, hands bracing himself on the sharp edges of rock. That was a unique oh fuck and a what the fuck (affectionate, surprised) moment. Your thoughts had blasted like a megaphone in his head.

…All strange events aside, he’s got one hell of an ass.

Poe was flattered. Really.

But he’d also never blushed so hard in his life.

You, a Mandalorian! Thinking about his ass!

The what the fuck (surprised, what the fuck) was reserved for the whole damn situation. He was suddenly part of a Dyad, which was something supposed to be reserved for Force-sensitive people— which he technically wasn’t. Technically. With you, of all people. Suddenly, getting to know you over the course of six hours seemed like nothing compared to the lifetime of emotions and memories he’d witnessed from you. Now he knew you. Knew things about you that he probably shouldn’t.

Like you thought about more than just his ass.

You’ve been in love with him for years. It’s a thought that makes him lightheaded, makes his knees weak and his face flushed. Years. At first it had started as a childhood crush, but as you grew, so did your feelings. That day he’d come to you in need of patching up, you’d only barely resisted the urge to kiss him when he was unconscious. And every day since, you’d wished that you had. How sometimes you’d thought about joining the Resistance but faltered every damn time because you worried your feelings for him might complicate missions and end in disaster. How sometimes you wanted to gather up the courage to approach him and tell him, but you— you, a Mandalorian, a Fett— was scared of his denial. You were scared that you weren’t good enough for him. And you didn’t want to suffer the pain of being near him with feelings complicated between you, eventually pushing you apart. You didn’t want to live in a world where you weren’t at least friends with him, and…

Poe wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Nothing bad— he was certain of that much, at least. He knew that before the Dyad, he’d always found you badass, had always looked forward to his little quick meetings with you and had always dreaded their endings. Yes, he did have a tiny crush on you, but he hadn’t been sure what to do with it. After all… you were a full decade younger than him.

But you were in love with him, head-over-heels, and he had a crush on you. So that should make things easy, right? It should be a simple matter of asking you out, right? Something in his gut twists at even the thought of asking you out.

Because you were in love with him. You’d been longing and yearning and pining since you were mature enough to understand the full meaning of those words. And what if he didn’t really feel these things he felt for you? What if it was just an effect of the Dyad? What, he’s just going to ask you out because of the Dyad? He’s going to use you? And when he realizes that it was only because of the Dyad, and that his feelings for you might not be as strong as he thinks? Then what?

You both were aware of the thoughts transpiring for each of you. Neither of you said anything. Not as you hiked through the desolate wilderness, not as you went about making camp. Not as you gave him instructions about how to better the camp and teach him how to start a fire from nothing but two pieces of wood and some dry brush as kindling. He mumbled something along the lines of “awesome” before sitting down across from you, trying not to stare at you as you stoked the fire and really fucking wishing that he had BB-8 with him right now.

He worried for his little buddy. He hoped that BB would have seen the dangers and hid, or fled. He wondered what he’d be doing, if he were here. He also had a little selfish thought, that he wished BB-8 were present so that he could hold him, and maybe get rid of this persistent urge, no, ache, to hold something.

To hold you.

It was something Poe had been feeling all damn day. Every time you walked alongside him, it took everything in him not to reach over and hold your hand, entwine your fingers together and rid you both of this longing to be held. Ner cyar’ika, he had called you. But what did it mean? He’s pretty sure he knew.

Ner runi.

My soul.

That’s what you had called him.

Slowly, his dark chocolate eyes trailed from where he fiddled with his hands, over the fire, drawn to you. You, the badass Mandalorian that was part of one of the most powerful families there ever was, who had a heart of gold but reinforced with durasteel. You sat there cleaning your blaster, and though he couldn’t see your eyes, he felt like every few minutes you would glance at him.

Poe couldn’t take it any longer.

As if forced from his mouth, he suddenly said, very quietly, “You were never gonna tell me that you’ve been in love with me this whole time, huh?”

You froze mid-wiping the barrel. Poe immediately felt guilty, but he also wondered if you might answer. When you didn’t, unsure of what to say… he followed his instincts. He stood, making his way around the fire to sit flush against your side. He instantly felt the comfort of your presence, and he surely felt your relief.

Poe’s gaze connected to your visor, to where he knew your eyes would be looking into his. He put an arm around your shoulders, putting your blaster and tools on the ground before you before hooking his hand up under your knees to pull you half into his lap. Your soft gasp of surprise once again reminded Poe of how young you were— only 20. Only 20, and never had you taken a lover. His touch probably made you uncomfortable. He regretted the sudden advance on you.

“What are you doing?” You whispered, unsure of where to put your hands.

“Keeping warm,” was his lame excuse. His lame excuse that both of you knew for a fact was a blatant lie. He leaned back, keeping his hold loose. Letting you know with emotions rather than words that it was okay if you wanted to pull away.

But you didn’t.

After a moment of hesitation, you started to relax. Your hands rested on his chest— did you feel his breath hitch just then? What is this? Was it the Dyad, or something more? Did he have feelings for you, or did he think he did?

Poe started to relax, too. His hand slowly, hesitantly trailed up your arm, fingers tracing your beskar plates. He felt your breathing speed up, your uncomfortable shift. Your confusion at your own reaction. Poe inwardly kicked himself. He’d just wanted to feel you. He hadn’t meant to make you feel uncomfortable. Nobody’s ever touched her, and here I am, the love of her life, all but feeling her up. “Sorry,” He managed, but it was just the tip of the iceberg. You surely knew how he regretted making you uncomfortable, but you responded with a low, broken hum— because you knew that deep down, he felt some kind of similar reaction.

Poe forced his hand to stop exploring your arm and come to rest on yours, which hovered over his heart. You could probably feel how it was pounding against his rib cage. His fingers slid between yours until he was holding your hand, and he wondered why he was doing any of this. “...Is this okay?” He whispered, like somebody might hear them. Honestly, he didn’t trust that the otherwise-invisible ghost Jedi wasn’t watching.

You hesitated. Your body relaxed as you took a deep breath. You squeezed his hand back. “...Yeah… Why are you doing this, Dameron?”

“I don’t know,” He replied honestly. “I just… want to, I guess?” He waited a second before adding, “...It’s Poe. It’s just Poe.”

You slowly rested your armored head on the shallow of his shoulder. He wondered if you would feel it if he kissed the top of your head. “Okay… Poe.” You sounded so soft, so sweet. Not for the first time since your bond had occurred did he wonder what your face looks like under that helmet.

“Let’s try to get some sleep, miracle,” He breathed, and he expected it not to come.

But he woke at dawn the next morning from a heavy, peaceful rest— one he hadn’t had the likes of in many years now— to you still enclosed protectively in his arms, but now also by his legs. You didn’t seem to mind. You were deeply asleep, too, he could feel it, but you laid on top of him with your hands on his chest and your armored head nestled between his shoulder and neck, under his jaw; even in your sleep, you’d been careful of your rangefinder so that it didn’t poke him in the face.

Unsure of what to do, Poe stayed like that for several minutes. He was in a bit of shock. Mandalorians notoriously never slept around anyone but each other or when alone, because they didn’t trust anyone enough. It was an intimate thing, sleeping near someone. It required the utmost amount of assurance that there was no way in hell one could get hurt. So for you to trust him enough to fall asleep not only near him, but on him, limbs entangled like this…

Poe was honored, for one.

The butterflies in his stomach showed him another feeling, too. He wasn’t sure what to do with that one yet.

Poe leaned forward slowly, afraid of waking you, before pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your helmet. A part of him thought it was weird, at first, to kiss your helmet… but then he felt relief. He closed his eyes and breathed in your scent of beskar, flight suit cotton, fuel, and lightsabers, which slightly nullified your slightly sweeter accents of second-hand exposure to spice and sugar. You smelled like ten thousand worlds, the galaxy in his arms; you smelled like a bounty hunter.

Poe smiled to himself and closed his eyes, letting himself feel you in his arms.

When you woke from your surprisingly deep slumber, you found yourself laying on Poe Dameron’s body as if he were a pillow. Despite how heavy you must be in all of your armor, he didn’t seem to mind it. He snored softly, and after a moment of laying there, you determined that his arms and his legs were around you. A part of you— the one that was trained— wanted to leap to your feet and bolt.

But the other part… you merely tensed for a moment before relaxing in his arms.

This was comfortable. No one had ever held you this way. This close. It was unfamiliar… but not unwanted. The physical touch that usually made you uncomfortable relaxed you. So you remained there.

Until you remembered the mission at hand, of course.

Slowly, you lifted your head. At the sight of Poe utterly relaxed beneath you, your heart began melting and pounding at once. You were laying on Poe Dameron. And now he knows about how you feel for him.

“You were never gonna tell me that you’ve been in love with me this whole time, huh?”

Your heart fluttered involuntarily at the memory. He knows. And now what does that make you? Are you still friends? Are you something else? What happens now? You’re too afraid of what might happen if you bring it up, so you vow not to. Not unless he does. And you can only hope and pray that he doesn’t want to be rid of you. You don’t think he would— especially seeing his soul so intimately as you have— and even if he did, it would be damn near impossible to escape each other because of your Dyad.

You can’t help but stare at him, taking in the moment for a little bit longer. You reach up to carefully sweep a loose curl off his forehead, and just like when he came to you that day, you wonder painfully what it would be like to kiss him.

He’s asleep, so it can’t hurt to wonder, right? Would he be flattered you’re thinking this way, or appalled? Maybe even disgusted? You hope never to find out. All you think about is how soft his lips look. What’s it like, to kiss someone? To push your mouths together in a symbol of love, lips melding and breath mingling? What does it feel like? No, not to kiss someone. You’re not interested in someone, you never have been. You’re interested in Poe, and only Poe. You feel self-conscious about your feelings toward him. Is it unfounded, an obsession, creepy? Are you weird for being so helplessly in love with him, for so long?

You feel the urge to take off your helmet and press your lips to his, just softly. Would he stir? Would he reciprocate? You let yourself imagine, just for a few moments, what it would be like to kiss him. You’d take your helmet off, careful not to wake him, and lean up a bit. You’d sweetly kiss him; if he stirred, would he gasp a little in surprise, then start moving his lips with yours? You imagined your barely-there breaths, stolen away by each other, mixing together. His strong nose would press into your cheek. Would he run his tongue along your lips to coax them open before licking into your mouth?

You jumped out of your daydream in alarm when Poe began to stir. Immediately, you closed off your thoughts and internally chastised yourself for having them. Girlish, immature, unneeded. Poe would never feel the same for you, no matter how close to you he became, and that’s a fact you should accept sooner rather than later.

Poe groaned in the back of his throat, a noise that shouldn’t have made you feel butterflies; maybe it was the fact that he squirmed not beneath you, but against you. You were more than thankful for your beskar armor (although a small part of you, which you crushed, wasn’t). Poe stretched, actually arching his body into you in his groggy state. You held on like a lothcat on a moving rug, unsure of what exactly to do.

When Poe opened his eyes, he seemed to realize where he was; he blinked rapidly a few times and immediately sat up a bit, removing an arm from around you to support his weight as he squinted blearily at you with a furrowed brow and chaotic curls. “Hey, miracle.”

You tried to speak, but all that happened was you swallowing hard. He didn’t tease you, or say anything cocky; he flopped back down on his back, rubbing his eyes with a deep groan. “This place have a habit of giving people the best sleep they’ve ever had in their lives or something? I don’t wanna get up.”

You jolted in surprise when you felt his legs move; one hitched further up, around your waist, and the other dragged down the backs of yours. Your heart leapt into your throat at the contact, pounding so hard and so fast it was a miracle it didn’t bruise his ribcage. Poe felt your… you weren’t exactly sure what you were feeling at this point. He sat up on his elbows again, biting his lip as his eyes met yours. “S-sorry, uh… Can’t move.”

You tilted your head a bit in question. It was all you could fathom with your current position.

Poe cleared his throat, face darkening in a flush. “P-pins and needles. Painful pins and needles. In my legs. Hold on. Just… Just a sec…” Poe’s eyes screwed shut. You averted your eyes, feeling as if you were a hindrance to his morning— Poe grabbed your shoulder abruptly. “Don’t. Don’t think that. It’s just my legs. I need a second. You…” His lip bite changed to something nervous rather than out of discomfort. “We’re good, Jay. Promise.” You forced yourself to relax, and so did he. After a few moments, he was able to move; he slid his leg off of yours, but the one around your hips lingered for a moment more. You wondered if he dragged it off of you slowly on purpose, trying to savor the moment, or if the position made him stiff.

There were a few moments more where you just laid there with each other, staring, as if you wanted to say something but weren’t exactly sure how to word it. Eventually, Poe— feeling a sense of growing discomfort— shifted underneath you, averting his eyes. “I, uh… I need you to get up, please.”

Your heart sank. Much like him, you didn’t want to move. But the goal—

“No. Miracle.” Poe bit his lip hard, eyes pleading, as he pawed at your shoulder in an effort to make you move. “I need you to get up. And uh… maybe look… any other direction. Please.”

“Huh?” Lingering tiredness made you slow to understand. But then it hit you. “Oh… Oh.” You hurriedly scrambled off of him. Your beskar and thick flight suit had kept you from noticing, but you knew enough about male anatomy to realize what was happening. Curiosity was a mean thing, forcing your eyes to trail down his torso and straight between his legs even as he moved.

If brains could glitch, you’re sure yours did. You weren’t sure if the sizeable bulge in his canvas pants was solely because of his morning rush hour (Is he…? Really that big?) or because he moved his thighs together immediately as he turned away from you, but either way, you blushed, feeling a wave of heat that made you awkwardly warm inside your armor. Poe felt your eyes on him and refused to meet them.

“It’s… not you,” Poe tried, then immediately amended that, “Well, no, that makes it sound bad. This is… It happens sometimes in the morning. I just gotta take care of it.”

“Did…” You swallow hard, struggling to keep your voice level. “Did me laying on you make it worse?”

“Miracle,” Poe interrupted, “There’s nothing wrong or bad about it, it’s just… I’m sure it probably made you uncomfortable. I mean, we know each other pretty well now, but you’ve never—“

“Do you need help?”

The question caught him off-guard. He twisted to look at you over his shoulder in astonishment. You shifted nervously. You could feel his twinges of severe discomfort, and you didn’t like it. You wanted to help him. Surely there was a plant or medicine that would help him?

“Huh?”

“Do… do you need help?” Your repeated question sounded feeble, and you started to wonder if it might be something personal. Did you offend him?

Poe tore off his jacket with a slight huff, setting it over his lap so that he could look at you straight-on. “Miracle. Sweetheart. You know what happens during sex, right?”

Now you were the one that was flustered. Despite your lack of any partner, you’ve read plenty of anatomical depictions and plenty of romance stories. Of course you knew what happened. Stiffly, you nodded.

“Okay,” Poe bit his lip, hard. “That’s what I have to do.” He must have felt your heart burst in shock, because he quickly added, “N-no, not like— not with— uh— it—“ Poe sighed, running a hand down his face. “...It’s something I have to do on my own.”

“Oh.” Your voice was small. It took a second for you to get his meaning, and his blush deepened when you couldn’t stop the flood of mental images that attacked your mind— filthy, dirty images the likes of which aren’t usual for you. You forced yourself to think of lightsaber tech specifications instead of… that. “Oh.”

Poe nodded pointedly. “Yeah.” His legs were stiff when he stood, a little shaky as he started backing toward the tree line.

“Um… good luck?” You sounded unsure to your own ears, and you felt like smacking yourself.

Poe nodded awkwardly as he hurried off, keeping his jacket in front of his crotch. It was only when his footsteps became indiscernible that you risked turning around, finding no sign of him except his trail, which led into the forest. With little twists of nerves in your belly, you went about cleaning up camp.

Is he thinking of me as he’s… doing that?

Those images returned again. You didn’t dare to dwell on them, flushing and clammy just from the brief mental picture of him palming himself through his pants and breathing heavily. Is it… because of you? Is that why he needs to take care of things? The thought sent a flood of warmth down your spine and into your lower stomach. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling, but you knew how to deal with it; you shifted uncomfortably and turned your whole focus to the specs of the Slave, willing the feeling to disappear.

Little good it did, though, when you were wholly aware of when, exactly, Poe finished. No detailed thoughts or images seeped through your link, but you jumped about a mile high when Poe’s frantic cursing and a sensation of relief flooded your senses. You blushed again, fiddling with your lightsabers. Suddenly their hilts were immensely interesting.

Poe returned shortly, flushed. Other than that and an uncharacteristic shyness in catching your eye, there was no sign of what he had done. You couldn’t help but glance down, finding the bulge in his pants not nearly as prominent as it had been; you looked quickly away when you felt Poe’s amusement. Luckily, he said nothing of it.

His hands found his hips, and he jerked his chin at you. “So? You’re the expert here. What’s for breakfast?”

You couldn’t help but scoff. “Food is your first thought?”

Not my first thought, you heard him think, but he hurriedly said, “I haven’t eaten since before I came to see you, Jay. Of course it is, I’m kriffing starving.” Right on cue, his stomach emitted an obscene rumble that made you laugh. A quick survey of your surroundings, and you spotted several edible berry bushes about.

You nodded more to yourself than to Poe and started leading him to the nearest one. “I’m sure we can make do.”

It took three long days of hiking and awkward avoidance of conversations to reach the Temple of Mortis. Each day you covered as much ground as possible, occasionally stopping to hunt the local wildlife— despite this realm being a form of dream state, hunger, thirst, and fatigue were all still obstacles to be overcome. Although fatigue seemed to be the easiest to cure.

You’d never slept so well as you did when you were tucked against Poe’s side. Sleep came quickly and easily, pulling you into a comfortable darkness that felt like a warm blanket. If his emotions were anything to go on, it was the same for him. To your knowledge (which is quite vast about him, now) he hasn’t had a decent night’s sleep since his mother died. He was always yearning for the stars, and then after he finally made it out— albeit as a spice runner of Kijimi— he had to sleep with one eye open to avoid certain death. It was a habit he’d kept during his years in the Academy, which had been adapted to sleeping light so that he would hear the alarms go off, wherever he was at. Poe didn’t sleep very well, not for many years.

Until you.

When he has you in his arms, it’s like everything else fades away. It’s just you. Are you reading too much into it? Is it just because of the Dyad? Most likely, your mind eventually decides.

Either way, you and Poe are acting as if you’ve known each other your whole lives. You can anticipate each other’s movements and finish each other’s sentences— and thoughts. Poe always seems to know exactly what you’re not saying, and it’s an unsettling concept. But also comforting.

Each night he’s there to soothe the eternal loneliness you’ve felt your whole life. Even Ben never held you, content with the occasional hug. Boba held you when you were small, but not very often. You had to be very upset in order to be held, and even then sometimes not. And then you’d started wearing the armor. You saw less of Din and Boba, and that was shortly before Ben turned to the Dark Side. You never let anyone come close enough to even graze your armor, and yet here you slept entangled with Poe Dameron.

It was blissful.

You’d never felt such peace and safety. Poe made you feel safe, and you weren’t even sure you knew the full meaning of that word. Poe knew this; you caught his sympathetic stares and lingering glances. You felt his emotions as clearly as if he spoke them to you, but he never did. Because he knew.

On the morning of the fourth day in the dreamscape, you and Poe finally ascended the ancient ruined steps that led up to the temple’s grand, if dilapidated, entrance. On either side of the crumbling stone archway stood twin statues of Jedi Guardians, standing straight and serene, so lifelike they seemed ready to spring into action at the slightest provocation. Thin sheets of ice and snow layered over ancient stone and long-dead grass and shrubbery, shielding broken spires and sharply-snapped pieces of gray structures long forgotten. Snowflakes drifted slowly down from a bleak sky, giving it a sense of serenity.

“It’s beautiful,” Poe commented under his breath, and you noticed the freezing wind brushing by with fingers of ice. Not for you; your armor could withstand space, if necessary. You looked over at Poe, whose arms were crossed as he tried his best not to shiver. Without a word, you unclipped your cape and came to drape it over his shoulders, standing in front of him. He fought chattering teeth as you pulled it securely closed, his breath a cloud of mist that hit your helmet. “...Th-thanks, Jay.”

You only nodded. You could feel his relief just as palpably as he could feel your response. Both of you turned to resume your awed admiration of the enormous, ancient structure before you— although it took Poe significantly less time than you to break the silence.

A little nervously, he cleared his throat. “So, uh… Should we go in?”

“No,” You responded, in all seriousness, “We have to stand out here and wait. The Force will guide us.”

“Oh.”

You gave it a good minute. Poe didn't realize you were joking.

“Poe,” You turned to him, a little amused. His eyebrow quirked up in question as he tried to keep his mouth closed in order to stifle his shivering. “I’m kidding. Of course we go inside.”

“Oh,” Poe flushed, dropping his gaze. He mumbled the next part of his sentence a little ashamedly. “Yeah. I knew that. I was just playing along.”

“Uh-huh,” You responded, unconvinced; you could tell because of the Dyad that he’d actually believed you. Although, you were quite relieved that he’d been able to block his mind off from yours enough so that he couldn’t tell that you were joking.

You took the leading steps into the temple, Poe following behind with the crunch of snow. The steps are surprisingly unslippery, providing traction. Your footsteps echoed solemnly in the ruins as you approached the ancient doors. The crumbled walls of the archway provided some shelter from the frigid breeze and falling snow, giving the space beneath the overhang a disturbingly silent air about it.

These doors were far too heavy for you to open alone; Poe pressed his weight into them alongside you, heaving with all of his strength. They stood strong, the ice coating their surfaces hardly even cracking. You both stumbled back a bit after a moment.

Poe’s hands found his hips as he regarded them with a raised eyebrow. “Those are some tough-ass doors.”

“So you’ve made it this far,” Said the voice of a familiar Gray Jedi from behind you, making Poe jump; you had sensed the lingering presence of your mentor as soon as you’d reached the ruins, and so had expected it. Still, Poe’s surprise at your “unshakable” demeanor made you smirk a bit under your helmet.

Qui-Gon’s apparition climbed up the stairs after you, and the lack of audible footsteps gave him an admittedly more ghostly façade. “I expected it to take much longer.”

“Did you doubt me, Master?” You quipped, in good spirits. You would never disrespect him.

Qui-Gon leaned a bit closer to you, conspiratorially. “It was not you who I doubted.”

“Oh,” Poe nearly choked on a snowflake. “You mean me. Sorry. I could’ve just stayed on the other side of the valley—“

Qui-Gon interrupted him with a deep chuckle. “Nonsense, my boy, I merely jest. You are just as much a part of these trials as Y/N is.”

Ah. An opportunity for a question. “What exactly are these trials, Master?”

Qui-Gon connected his hands under his sleeves, turning a smug smile on you. “Why don’t you come and find out?” With that, he simply stepped through the doors. Poe’s face was priceless.

“Let him feel the Force,” Qui-Gon’s voice commanded, disembodied.

“Let him feel the—“ Poe whipped his head around to raise an eyebrow at you worriedly. “The kriff is that supposed to mean?”

You fixed him with a steely gaze. “Do you trust me?”

“Without question.” A part of you was taken aback. The sincerity with which he said those words… “I mean it,” Poe added, as if for emphasis.

You could only nod. You offered him your hand, asking him silently to take it. “Don’t do. Just feel.” Poe nodded, understanding your orders. You felt that he wasn’t too keen on repeating trying to utilize the Force again.

His hand in yours felt right. It felt like it linked you two together physically, adding to the pulse of… whatever it was that was flowing between you. The relief that vibrated along the edges of your new connection, at just a hand-hold, should not have been so palpable as it was.

You turned your attention to the task at hand: the door.

You raised your free hand, opening your palm to the door, reaching out with your mind. The Living Force was all around you, vibrant and ever-changing even in a landscape otherwise barren to the naked eye, and you were able to pull it towards you.

Poe’s gasp of alarm did not go unnoticed.

He was already cold, so when it felt like ice water was dragged through his veins via an IV, Poe couldn’t contain his shudder, nor his little gasp. Did you hear that?

You glanced over at him.

Fuck.

You definitely heard it.

Dammit.

It felt like you were using him as a conduit. Qui-Gon had said to let him feel the Force? He definitely fucking felt it. Using where your hands were entwined as not only an anchor but a transfer point, you gently pulled the Force through him, like a filter, and into you. He was able to feel you use it, too. Effortlessly, you manipulated the Force to open the door for you.

With a broken, bone-grating shudder, the ancient doors began to move inward, as though they were being pulled open from the inside. For you, it was a menial shove. Poe was in awe, because he’d expected the Force to take more umph.

When you let go of his hand, the channel of Force energy stopped, and Poe felt surprisingly empty. He turned an inquisitive eye on you as you took your sabers in hand, but didn’t yet activate them. Taking his cue from you, he got his blaster ready. After all, even you weren’t sure what exactly these trials entailed.

Poe really hoped it was something normal, although the chances of that happening were slim at best.

The entry chamber was relatively small, although at least five times bigger than Poe’s house. Void of any decoration but spider’s webs and dust, it bore two much smaller versions of the Jedi statues. As you led the way by them, Poe felt like they followed you with your eyes. He wasn’t sure why, but he really didn’t like those statues. They gave him the same chills that seeing bones did.

“Who were they?” Poe whispered, like the statues might hear him.

You spared the statues a passing glance, but didn’t otherwise turn around. “They were once the guardians of Jedi Temples throughout the galaxy. They served to protect those within, whether they be fellow Jedi or younglings… although their order has been extinct for years.”

Poe eyed the statues warily as he passed. “Well, uh… no disrespect, but they’re pretty creepy in statue mode.”

You chuckled. It was a sound that made Poe feel all tingly on the inside. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that— not bad. It’s just that he wasn’t sure how to feel about the fact that your laugh made him feel butterflies. “Yeah, kinda.”

In the central chamber, it seemed no different from the entry hall; except, here there were huge chunks of ice and snow that had fallen through the crumbling ceiling, and here there stood two eight-foot-tall, much more lifelike Jedi Guard statues. The crawling in his gut grew more prevalent, and Poe knew that something was about to go down here. You felt it, too, keeping your sabers at the ready and looking back at him once in question. You both inched to walk closer together, footsteps echoing in the cavern-sized-chamber alongside the distant howl of ghostly winds blowing through cracked walls. There was no sign of Qui-Gon Jinn.

Poe kept his blaster ready, a sense of deep unease filling his body. But… you felt it, too. So I’m not just paranoid… You stopped in your tracks, sensing for the source of the discomfort; you moved before he could see you start to do so.

With lightning-fast reflexes, you whipped around, sabers activating with a bursting crackle of electricity. You’d rounded on him, somehow, your sabers both guarding his left. Poe hadn’t even had time to gasp.

One of the Jedi Guard statues had come to life, yellow saber humming with an ancient life of its own. Your blades had hardly caught the blow that would have rent him clean in half, but he could still feel the heat of all three lengths of plasma. Shit. Shit.

For a three second count, he swore your eyes locked as you all stood stock-still.

Then you moved, and Poe was entranced.

You shoved off the blade of your attacker, body and blades in a motion like water, perfectly synchronized for optimum efficiency. Your footwork was neat, clean, balanced, not that Poe knew much about it. The Jedi Guard thrusted his double-bladed staff, bringing it up and around in a downward strike, then tried to swing horizontally, but you expertly deflected each blow with the hissing crash of plasma-to-plasma and little effort. It was perfectly clear that you’d been trained by Luke Skywalker.

Both of you were so fast that your blades were only blurred afterimages of static emerald and yellow topaz, zapping off each other in a haze of shattering white. Poe had to squint to see properly, and the forced action made him realize that he was just standing there.

Noise from behind him made him whip around— just in time, too. He dodged just as the second Jedi Guard would have impaled him from behind, the saber-staff bursting to life mere inches from his chest. Poe jumped back, nearly tripping over his own two feet, as the Jedi Guard attacked. Its stone joints ground together like a rockslide, too loud in the echoey space.

When the Jedi Guard aimed to slice downward, Poe dodged, tripped, and fell hard on his back, knocking the breath out of himself. Fuck. How was he supposed to do anything in these trials if he was so out-of-touch with the realm of Mortis that he was going to get himself killed?

The Jedi Guard tried to stab him through the chest; Poe rolled out of the way, but then had to immediately reverse the move in order to avoid a second strike. Ohshitohshitohshit—

Both strikes had upturned the fragile cobblestones of the floor, boxing Poe in. Now he didn’t have anywhere to go, and the Jedi Guard knew that. It lifted its staff, prepared to impale him—

“Poe!”

Your cry distracted the guard long enough for Poe to resituate in an attempt to stand; but then he was distracted by something flying at his face. On instinct, he caught it, dropping his blaster and drawing the attention of the guard back to himself— and he’d barely had time to sit up.

Poe brought whatever it was up as a poor defense when the guard struck, fast as a viper. He audibly gasped when one of your lightsabers ignited in his hand, effectively blocking the guard’s blow. He hadn’t meant to hold it in a horizontal reverse grip, but it worked out perfectly. There was a pause— a few beats of heavy silence as the guard tried to figure out what was happening. Poe took that as his opening.

Poe shoved with all of his might, and the guard staggered backward. Poe rolled heels-over-head away from it, coming up in a kneel just in time to deflect another blow and save his neck. Adrenaline surged through his veins, giving him the almost-sixth-sense he needed for battle.

As Poe got to his feet and defended himself from the guard, you were nearby, effortlessly blocking the guard you fought with by simply spinning your saber in a seamless continuous parry. With only one saber. Poe tried not to get distracted.

Thus far he’d felt only focus from you. You were calm, collected, and that gave him the confidence he needed now to fight— with a lightsaber, no less. One of yours. But when he felt your slip-up, he was overcome by a surge of sudden panic of his own.

Something distracted you. He wasn’t sure what, he wasn’t sure how, but your concentration slipped for only a second. Poe was terrified that he’d hear a bloodcurdling cry or hear the saber pierce a weak spot in your armor, but thankfully the guard was turned in such a way where the opening you’d left it only gave it room for a solid, powerful kick to the chest.

Poe turned just in time to see a flash of green as you were flung in his direction. The impact of your beskar-leaden body into his sent you both flying backward, and he felt the distinct crack of a rib when you landed on him, crushing him between your armored self and the broken cobblestones. You cried out at his pain with him, scrambling off of him. His chest throbbed; but he’d been through pain like this before. He could take this. He assured you silently of that through a pulse of emotion, but you hardly felt it.

You snatched your saber from his grip and hurled both of them, straight at your opponents. Poe briefly wondered if you were crazy, but then the sabers seemed to grow little starfighter minds of their own, dodging the guards’ weapons by themselves before shooting through their stone skulls. Poe watched, transfixed, as the sabers came to a halt in midair before returning back to your hands. The Jedi Guards fell to the ground and left the chamber in silence that felt far too loud.

Poe managed through his labored breaths, “What is it?”

You shook your head in disbelief. Whatever it was, it scared you, and that scared him. “Thought I saw…” Your head snapped up, focused on a distant hallway entrance. Poe didn’t have the Mandalorian helmet to amplify his vision, of course, so all he saw was a flash of black clothing disappear around the corner, like an apparition.

You were up and moving before Poe could stop you, bolting for the hallway and activating your sabers as you gave chase. Poe snatched up his blaster and followed as closely as he could behind you, understanding too late what you had seen.

Your voice rang through the chamber. “BEN!”

What scared him was that you didn’t scream it in pain. There was no grief, no sadness, no longing or pleading. Poe felt only one emotion from you, until he was overwhelmed with it.

Rage.

It should be impossible.

But you weren’t going to question it.

Clearly, this was not a part of the trials. Somehow, Ben had discovered a way to reach the Temple of Mortis to see you. Whether he actually were standing there or had entered through a meditative dream-state, you didn’t know, and you didn’t care.

You were seeing red.

There was no fear, not anymore. Not here, where you knew that he couldn’t hurt you even if he wanted to. You couldn’t die here, not while your bodies were on Tython.

Kylo Ren couldn’t physically hurt you.

But Ben… Ben could hurt you. He could tear your heart out and crush it under his fancy leather boots like he was doing now just by showing himself. He could stab you in the chest with a blade of nolstagia as his presence reminded you of better days, reminded you of a time when Ben Solo had been so close to you. He could fill your veins with poisoned thoughts of a world that was, of a time when all you knew was the happiness that was Luke’s academy which he’d destroyed, now tainted with the screams of slaughtered child-Jedis. Ben Solo could destroy you, in far worse ways than Kylo Ren ever could.

And it made you furious.

Any grief you held you transformed into anger. Not quite enough to warrant a warning from Qui-Gon about the Dark Side, but enough for you to chase Ben with intention of attacking him.

You didn’t want to kill him. Despite all he’d done, you don’t think that you could bring yourself to do that. Because as your blade pierced his chest, you would only be able to see the boy that was your brother. In his final moments, he might see the error of his ways, back to himself before death, but you’d watch the light fade from his eyes, and you wouldn’t be able to bear that.

But fight him?

That, you could do.

“BEN!” Your voice came out of you in a deep growl twice its usual depth, fueled by fury with a serrated edge. Your blades seemingly activated themselves of their own accord, allowing Ben to know your intentions clearly. You rounded the corner after him and stopped short.

There he stood, at the end of the slender bridge that linked the ends of two separate halls. Kylo Ren. In his black cloaks and cowls and robes, ridged mask obscuring his face. You hadn’t seen him since the day he’d left that wound on your thigh in a fit of rage, the one that had left a scar that went far deeper than the surface. The one that reminded you that if you’d been there for him, he might not have turned so quickly. A part of you wondered if your haste to get to the Force tree you had made him think that you’d abandoned him, and had given him the final push to the Dark Side.

“Y/N,” Said Ben’s voice from behind Ren’s mask. It was distorted, altered to become ownerless, bottomless. But you recognized a hint of Ben, deeper and older than you’d last heard him. “It’s been awhile.”

“You,” you hissed, anger and grief confusing themselves. What have you become?

“Did you think we’d never meet again?” Ben questioned, head tilting a bit in question. “Or did you think you could evade me indefinitely?”

“Why are you here?” You demanded, your grip so tight on your sabers that your knuckles popped.

“Looking for you,” Ben answered calmly. “You can’t be so stupid to believe that I would come to a Jedi Temple for just any reason. I’m surprised that you did.”

“I didn’t,” You snapped, voice dripping venom.

“Ah…” Ben’s focus shifted, to behind you.

To Poe.

“No, you didn’t. Your new Dyad brought you here.” You glanced back at Poe. You felt his worry as he trained his blaster on Ben, not yet firing. Waiting for your signal. When you looked back to him, he was still focused on Poe. “How… fascinating. One with the Force, and one without, forming such a strong bond…” You put yourself between Ben and Poe. You wouldn’t let him hurt him…

Ben seemed to find your protectiveness amusing. “We used to have a bond, once. Long ago. You can still feel it, can’t you?”

“I feel the remnants of what we had, Ben,” You retorted. “I feel sorrow for what you were.”

“...I can still feel it,” Ben said softly, with something like sadness in his voice. You couldn’t discern if it was a trick to gain your sympathy, or if maybe a part of him did mourn for the old days. “We had something… not quite a Dyad, but…”

“What are you doing here, Ben?” You demanded a second time. “What do you want from me?”

“What Dameron knows I want from you,” Ben countered, and you were reminded of a piece of information that you hadn’t thought much of: the fact that Poe’s hidden agenda coming to find you was to bring you back to the Resistance, to try and protect you from Kylo Ren under Leia’s orders. You wouldn’t hold it against him that he didn’t tell you, if only because this was proof that Leia had a right to be worried. “I want you to join me.”

The offer wasn’t surprising. You figured that if you met Ben again, he would most likely set forth a proposal to join him in the Dark Side. You’d been so close, it came as a given that he would do this before fighting. Also a contributing factor to your proven hunch was that Supreme Leader Snoke was always searching for more apprentices. The Knights of Ren, those few younglings that had survived Ben’s slaughter at the temple, were one such example. You were not a Jedi, but you were also not a Sith. You were good. And if Ben thought that he could persuade you to become a part of the Dark Side… “I will never join you, Ben.”

“Then you are nothing to me,” Ben replied lowly. For emphasis, he jerked his wrist, sending his saber burning to life. With a sharp stab of crimson light and a hum of energy, his unique, unstable lightsaber ignited with the drop of your heart. His words stung. You tried to tell yourself that they didn’t matter. In either case, you channeled your sorrow to anger, and charged with a cry of rage and grief that bubbled up from the very depths of your soul. Why? Why did you fall, Ben? Why did you let go of the light?

Ben charged, too. No, not Ben. Ben was gone. You needed to remember this. He was no longer the boy you’d known. He was Kylo Ren now, a Sith, a killer. If Ben was in there, he was so deeply buried that it would be difficult to find him.

You willed Poe to stay back, in a vague and absent part of your mind. This battle was between you and your brother; you didn’t want Poe getting hurt. Kylo Ren would target him to hurt you, you knew this. Stay. Back.

You need help. Poe sounded helpless. Worried. So were you, and he knew that. But you didn’t want him in the battle regardless.

Stay.

If your blades had been fast against a stone sentry, they were beyond quick now as your sabers met Kylo Ren’s in a clash of orange-brown so bright it was nearly blazing white. Right-left-right, parry-over-parry, your blades met expertly. It was clear that you knew each other, able to predict each other’s moves so well. You moved like in a dance that you knew by heart; neither you nor Ren could land a blow, and neither of you came close to the precarious edges of the bridge that led into a treacherous abyss of blackness.

Your moves were echoes of the old days of sparring sessions against each other, before your armor, before Kylo Ren, before Snoke. As children, smiles donned your faces as Luke watched over you, betting on who would win playfully. Neither of you ever did, skills so equally matched that it seemed an impossible feat to accomplish.

You were not children anymore.

There were no smiles, there was no Luke. Only a furious bounty hunter with a legacy behind her that she still hadn’t grown into, and a fallen Jedi that was the son of a legend. And now your skills have changed.

Kylo Ren thrust his free palm out toward you, but you sensed his Force push coming, blocking it with a wall of the permeating energy of your own. Your hands trembled against the impact of each other’s Force, building, until finally it burst in a surge of energy that sent you both flying back in opposing backflips that left you several dozen yards apart.

The duel had brought your unruly emotions to the forefront of your mind. Emotions were not something Mandalorians should wear on their sleeves, but you couldn’t contain yourself. “You abandoned me, Ben! You abandoned all of us! You killed the younglings, you tried to kill Luke— WHY?!”

Ben twirled his saber in a flourish. “Did Luke ever tell you what really happened that night? Or did you take his word for it?”

The accusation made your blood feel like fire. “Luke was like a father to me.”

“And I was more to you than that!” Ben roared, slamming a fist on his chest for emphasis. “I was closer to you than Luke ever was! Who protected you from the other children when you were young?! Who reminded you that you were just as important as Luke’s Jedi students?! And yet you abandoned me—“

“Do not!” Your scream was coupled with the point of your lightsaber jabbing in his direction. “I never abandoned you, Ben Solo. When everyone else mourned your loss, I waited for you. I waited for you to come back to us.”

“No,” Ben snapped, “You left. You left that night, Fett. When I needed you most.”

Don’t listen to him, miracle, Poe’s voice crept into your guilt-ridden mind. But all you could remember was Ben attacking you in that session with an anger you should have known wasn’t directed at you, that came from the pressure of Luke, of Snoke, and of whatever heavy burdens that he’d carried that he’d refused to share with you. “You don’t need to hear them.” And then, when he’d accidentally wounded you, you, in the haze of a day of bad decisions and feeling as if you just simply didn’t belong in Luke’s prestigious academy, you had left. You had sought out the Force tree in an attempt to cleanse your thoughts, only to be intercepted in your return by your father, who informed you of Ben’s turning.

If I had been there.

The thought had haunted you since that night.

Don’t. Listen. To him. Poe’s insistence broke through your guilt, helped you to push it aside, even as Kylo Ren uttered under his breath, “You know it to be true.” You remained silent. There was nothing you could say. You had no proclamations to counter Ren’s statement despite Poe’s insistence that you had no fault in this. Ren began to march forward. “If you will not join me, then you are a threat to me. I will not tolerate a threat to the First Order.”

You spun your sabers into a standard basic stance, preparing yourself for any motion Ren would make. “Good fucking luck getting rid of me.”

Your blades met again, but your energies were so chaotic that the Force bent around you to assist. When Ren lunged, huge pieces of debris went with him, which you had to dodge or deflect via a series of well-timed spins of your saber and elaborate footwork. When your sabers met again, there was a clash of sparks and plasma as Ren kept pushing forward, trying to shove you back. You backpedaled, letting yourself fall off the edge of the bridge; Poe’s panic overwhelmed you, until you sent him a rope of reassurance through your Dyad. You fell, vertically, for several seconds until you activated your jetpack.

You shot like a blaster laser back onto the bridge, bringing one arm back in a fiery blow that Ren almost couldn’t deflect in time. You landed in a spin, sabers spinning in a parry that defended your back and side as you came around to attack Ren. He thrust a wall of Force energy in your direction, one you weren’t prepared for, throwing you back, clean off your feet and into the far wall. You landed, out of breath and in a pile of broken shards of stone that stained your armor with soot and dust.

Before you had even caught your breath, you activated your jetpack again, launching yourself full-speed into Kylo Ren and knocking him backward. Whereas you were able to stop yourself, Ren was not. He rolled several feet before coming up in a kneel, met immediately with the full brunt of your flamethrower. Ren used the Force to deter the flames from his person, directing them around him so that they were harmless. The heat remained, however, adding hazards to the battlefield as small fires crackled in the ruins.

They’re cutting us off, Poe warned as the flames grew higher, creating an effective barrier between you and Poe.

And trapping you with Kylo Ren.

Drawing quick and haggard breaths, you and Ren faced each other in the ruins of your destruction. You weren’t sure if it was an illusion of the dreamscape, or if it were an effect of the battle, but sparks and ash fell from the ceiling. Liquid fire dropped from somewhere above you, and you realized that you’d caught the ancient tapestries bearing the Jedi emblem on fire. They burned, filling the hall with smoke and flames and transforming the landscape of the chamber to something hellish. A massive piece fell across the bridge behind you, enforcing the barrier between you and Poe. Somewhere beyond him, the wall had been ripped apart in one of Kylo Ren’s fits of Force-fueled rage, allowing in a beam of ice cold wind and piercing sunlight.

You faced each other, covered from head-to-toe in dust and ash. You were surprised when Ren flicked his saber off, but you did the same. Ren stood straight, heaving an irritated breath. He reached up, with one hand, pressing a button on the side of his helmet to unlatch the face into a hinge. He pulled it off, revealing his face. The very same face which had been your only friend. His black hair was a mess from the helmet, longer than you’d last seen. But for all appearances, he was still him.

“Ben…” Your voice left you in a whisper. You wondered if you heard it.

“We had a bond, Y/N. We were close.” Ben’s attempt to persuade you to the Dark Side made your heart sink. “We can have that again.”

Don’t do it, Jay, Poe begged, mentally rather than vocally. He would not beg in front of Kylo Ren.

“Join me,” Ben offered his hand to you, an extension of what could be an easy alliance between old friends. He gave the illusion that he still cared for you. “We can rule the galaxy, side-by-side. Like we were meant to.”

You stood there. Outwardly, it may appear as if you were considering your options. You glanced back and forth between them. Ren was unblocked, easily accessible, and behind him was the pitch blackness of the vacant temple corridors, lit by intermittent falling sparks and melting blobs of metal and stone. Behind him was the unknown.

And Poe, cut off from you by a wall of fire, watched anxiously, almost a silhouette from how brightly the midday sunshine streamed into the broken wall behind him, giving you an escape route.

You could destroy Ren. Here and now, if you kept fighting, even if the whole temple came down around you. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t and you wouldn’t, despite all of his atrocities. He still had your brother’s face, his voice. But he was Ben Solo no longer.

But you would not join him, either.

You raced for the barrier of searing flames behind you, refusing to face the Sith Lord any longer. Poe would be there to catch you and save you from burning on the other side.

The last thing Poe remembered clearly was you, on fire, jumping into his arms. From there it was a blur of screaming and patting you down furiously to try and stifle the flames while falling through the very same pitch blackness which had brought you here.

The next thing he knew, he was gasping awake and very, very sore. Here was Tython again, the scent of greenery and the ruins of the Jedi Academy making that obvious. Insects buzzed so loudly compared to the silence in the Temple of Mortis that it hurt Poe’s ears.

After several seconds of agonizing aching muscles, Poe forced past the cramps and stiffness in order to partially stand, head whipping around as he searched for you. He tried to call your name, but all that came out was a haggard cough. Y/N, he tried through the Dyad, and he felt your presence jerk to life on the stone slab on which you’d fainted.

P-Poe—

Your body was worse off than his was, apparently feeling the effects of your battle with Kylo Ren. You could hardly move. Poe sat up, crying out when he learned that his cracked rib had been transferred to the real world. “Fuck!”

Poe fought to get to his feet, clutching at his side in a vain effort to dull the pain. It was still dark, and the stormtrooper transports were still on approach. There was still time.

But very little of it.

Poe limped across the ruins, strapping his blaster over his head and torso in order to have both arms free when he reached you. You tried to roll over, letting out a pained groan when your body barely responded. Poe wondered if anything was seriously broken, but he didn’t have the time to check. He slipped an arm under your knees, and his other under your torso, wincing when the action caused discomfort in his side. Poe took a couple seconds to brace himself, breathing quick through his teeth, before taking the plunge and lifting you off the slab.

“Agh, fuck!!!” Poe’s growl of pain could probably be heard from the ships, but he didn’t care. He had to get you out of here. The dreamscape had left neither of you in any condition to fight. He would just have to push through it.

It took every ounce of strength he had in order to limp back in the direction of the ships. The pain in his side was like fire, hot and uncomfortable and stinging and sharp. He was moving as fast as his body would allow, but the throbbing ache was moving down his leg and making it difficult to move. His eyes watered with the force of trying to hold back his yelps as he tried to move faster through the thick underbrush. You were heavy. Had you been this heavy before? No, you hadn’t. Poe’s arms were trembling, and he’d broken into a cold sweat. Shit… I’m not gonna make it…

The trek to the ships was far too long. Poe was very near screaming now, hardly able to breathe as he approached the Slave, which already thrummed with life. The ramp lowered as he came up to it, revealing a very concerned BB-8. Poe nearly sagged with relief when he saw him, but couldn’t even manage the words to respond properly as BB followed him into the ship with questioning beeps.

Poe sat you down in the cockpit, nearly collapsing with a strangled cry. When BB-8 warbled out questions about what was wrong, Poe found himself nearly thinking to him before he caught himself. “I-I’ll explain later,” Poe forced out between gritted teeth. He got you comfortably adjusted and then hurriedly began to buckle you in.

He froze when your hands, grip weak and feeble, grabbed either side of his face, making him look at you. Poe… You’re hurt. You’re shaking.

Poe pressed his forehead to yours and held your wrists tightly, trying to convey reassurances. I’m fine. We need to get out of here. Need to get to my x-wing. We’re gonna be okay.

Poe staggered away from you, turning to Beebs. “You stay with her, okay? Keep the ship on autopilot and follow my lead. I’ll get us to D’Qar, but she can’t fly.”

BB-8 gave an answering stream of beeping, and Poe staggered from the Slave to Black One. Behind him, the ramp of the Slave closed, its engines firing up and starting to lift off. Alerted by the powered-up ship, the transports were starting their landing sequences right in the clearing you were taking off from. Poe was so glad these transport models didn’t have guns.

He didn’t bother pulling his flight suit on, stuffing it under the seat and forcing the cockpit to close as he was taking off to follow the Slave. The transports, far larger and clunky, couldn’t give chase, but he saw on his screens that they had clearly transmitted to the cruiser in orbit. A fleet of TIEs was bearing down on their position, quickly.

Poe put on his helmet and shook his head to clear it, trying to focus on the controls of his fighter. Come on. Get out of here. Get her out of here. If she’s captured, Ren will have her. Maker, who knows what he’d do to her. He growled through gritted teeth as he forced his arm to move. As he fought through the searing pain, he kept an image of you, weakened by your mental fight with Ren, clear in his mind. Miracle.

He felt your distant, vague response. You were acting like you’d been hit too hard over the head, and Poe didn’t like that. What if your mind had gotten stuck in the blackness that you’d fallen through together? How would he save you from that?

Poe, you said, and he nearly stilled before realizing that he was still in the process of escorting the Slave. I’m fine. Just tired. Keep flying. We need to get into lightspeed.

Poe didn’t realize someone could feel this much relief. You were responding. That was a good sign. You’re gonna be okay. He just needs to get you to D’Qar.

You’d barely exited the atmosphere when the TIEs opened fire. Large scoring burn marks scorched the side of the Slave before Poe was able to shoot down the opposing fighters. When they were dispatched, he inputted the coordinates to D’Qar and punched it, pulling both himself and the Slave into lightspeed. Only when he was certain that there were no pursuing TIEs did he start stripping himself of his jacket and shirt.

He hissed through his teeth when he saw the mess of his ribs: all blacks and blues already. Poe steeled himself and ripped his undershirt into half-haphazard bandages, holding one end in his teeth and applying them as tightly as he could handle, binding his chest. When it was over, the pain was eased slightly, and Poe put his shirt back on as he tried to catch his breath. Chill clung to his sweat-covered skin, and so he donned his jacket again, crossing his arms.

He checked on you again. Miracle…

Poe.

Hearing your voice put him at ease. The latest events clung to his mind like honey, the surrealness of it all finally settling in and allowing him to come to the realization that this had all actually happened. But sleep weighed on him more heavily, exhaustion from the dreamscape dripping off his very bones. You were already dreaming when Poe joined you.

Sharing dreams wasn’t an experience you’d ever thought you’d have.

But as you slept, you dreamed with Poe. Not of him. Your dreams were a confused, chaotic, and dark mess of emotions. Poe would take your hand and lead you through it, or you would. You protected each other, defending one another from formless threats that surfaced from the darkest corners of your minds. Occasionally you would wake, leaving the other also jolting to consciousness. Confusion would vibrate between you until fell back to sleep, into the realm of something quite like fever dreams.

Finally, after the initial discomfort of sharing something so deeply private, there came relief. Comfort. Relaxation. Your dreams became calm meadows where you would lie with Poe and rest under a calm sky. Sometimes it was Yavin IV, sometimes Tython. The only constant was Poe. You kept your hands linked, and no matter what changed around you, your bond remained stable.

When Poe left your dreams, you felt an unusual sense of safety and security until you finally began to wake up for real, when you felt relief not your own. A low groan left your dry throat, which cracked under the pressure of trying to force speech.

“No, hey. Easy, miracle. Don’t try to talk.” You vaguely registered Poe speaking until you were trying to sit up. He gently pressed you back down onto the medical cot you’d been laying on, and your eyes finally focused on him: covered in dirt, clearly exhausted, and disheveled… but still very much Poe. You let him help you lay back, feeling the unfamiliar touch of his hands on you and his mind grazing yours. Weakly, he smiled a bit. “You’re okay. You’re safe. You’re on D’Qar.”

You stared at him, unsure of what to say. You knew that he’d been planning on taking you here, and you weren’t exactly opposed to it. For some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to let go of his arms. You’d fisted your hands in his sleeves; his thumb moved gently to caress where it was on your shoulder.

“...You look like shit, Poe.”

It was all you could think of, and your voice barely worked… but it made him laugh a little. The sparks danced in his eyes, and you were transfixed. You felt his little burst of curiosity at your sudden wave of adoration, and pulled back. You didn’t want him to know when you had these feelings… although you’re sure that it will take plenty of self-control to reach a point where you wouldn’t simply be always reading one another’s minds. Still… you couldn’t help but smile a little at his reaction, which only seemed to make him happier, even if he couldn’t see it.

Doesn’t matter if I can see it or not, miracle. I can feel it.

You wondered if that’s why the eye contact between you seemed so palpable then. If that’s why, somehow, Poe met your eyes through a screen of transparisteel tinted pitch black on the outside to prevent just that. Your hand moved of its own accord, inching up his arm, skipping his shoulder, hesitated… then you were cupping his face in your hand, running your thumb over the apple of his cheek. Poe surprised you by leaning into your touch. Suddenly he was holding your hand to his face.

Something… happened.

There was something like a pulse, although it felt a bit like a bass drop. You both felt it. Neither of you cared to move, or to wonder what it was. You just simply… were. An emotion neither of you could place buzzed between you, intensely. So intensely that you both just acknowledged it, let it happen, and existed with it. The only thing that existed for you in that moment were the sparks of life, of hope, in Poe Dameron’s eyes. And to him, he saw only the angled helmet that represented the other half of his Dyad, feeling relief that the woman behind it was alright. You felt his relief, just as clearly as your own emotions.

“...You stayed with me,” You voiced aloud, realizing this after a moment. Tython was two days ago, you learned from his mind. Poe had stayed by your side that entire time. His food was brought to him. Leia came to him to hear what he had to report. He hadn’t even so much as wiped his face of the intergalactic ancient ruin dust. You couldn’t help but let out a chuckle of disbelief. “You need a kriffing shower. Thank the Maker I’ve got my helmet on.”

Poe doubled over into your shoulder with muffled laughter. “Yeah. You’re probably right. But at least I haven’t been locked in a tin can this whole time.”

“Fuck you. Utreekov.”

“Uh huh.”

A series of tentative beeps made Poe sit back up. BB-8 rolled up, emitting worried queries about your well-being. “I’m fine, Beebs,” you croaked. “Just feels like I was hit by a speederbike.”

Beebs squealed happily, but you didn’t miss the droid double-take he gave Poe’s hand on your shoulder, held by yours. You didn’t even realize until then that your thumb had been tracing his knuckles absentmindedly. You reluctantly stopped; Poe wasn’t sure how to feel about that, making you very confused.

“So it is true,” came a familiar voice, and with Poe’s help, you managed to sit up enough to see the owner slowly round a gathering of medical equipment stations to reach your cot. “You truly did form a Dyad.”

“Buir,” You breathed, relieved to see him. A weight was lifted off your shoulders at the sight of your green-clad father, who walked with surprising ease for a near-70 year old. His armor, scraped and dented from decades of use, told stories far beyond even his memory, as it had been the armor of his father, Jango, and his father before. His voice, deep and gravelly, was one heard commonly throughout the Clone Wars, when 10,000 men were carbon-copied from Jango Fett into the perfect soldiers for the Republic.

“Hello, little bantha,” Boba Fett said, “It’s about time you woke up.” He approached with the clink of buckles and heavy footsteps, coming to stand at the bedside opposite of Poe. “Dameron told us everything. Mortis, the Dyad… Ren.”

You’d already come to terms with this in the shared state of dreams that you’d experienced with Poe. You’d known that he would; after all, there wasn’t anything to keep from anyone. Nothing, except your confused feelings that hummed between you like a vibro-blade’s edge.

When you were silent, Boba continued. “Ren is hunting you as he is hunting Skywalker now. Nowhere in the galaxy is safe for you.”

“Real comforting,” You scoffed. “Thanks.”

“I would prefer it if you stayed with the Resistance,” Boba continued, as if you hadn’t spoken. Your heart dropped. Poe was the sole reason you’d never chosen to join, too worried that your feelings for him would make you a burden on any mission. Now, though, with everything in the open, and with you being connected as you were… you needed a safe place to sort through your thoughts. A place where Ren would be less likely to find you. The Resistance, instead of being a lone bounty hunter, would provide you with constant backup. It would be more difficult for Ren to capture you here. You saw the benefits as Boba had taught you to, and you were going to exploit them... for now.

So therefore, you nodded. You didn’t expect to feel Poe’s sudden excitement at that prospect, however. You nodded regardless. “I will, buir.” Poe moved back so that Boba could come closer. Your father put a hand on your shoulder and leaned down in a sort of half-hug, clanking your helmeted foreheads together. Boba Fett did not hug, not in front of anyone. Even if that someone was the other half of your Dyad. “I must go. Din requires my assistance, and I am already late two days to see him. I had to make sure you were alright. Are you well enough for me to go?”

You gave Boba’s arm a reassuring squeeze. “Yeah. I’m fine. Tell Din that I said hello.”

Boba inclined his head to you. As he turned, he spared Poe a wary glance. “Thank you for caring for her, Dameron… Keep in touch with me. I would like to know if anything changes.”

Poe had drawn himself up, trying to portray himself more professionally. “Yes sir.”

Boba regarded him carefully for a moment more before leaving, the sound of his jingling buckles fading slowly. You didn’t get much of a moment alone with BB-8 and Poe, though, because as he left, Leia passed him with a nod of respect.

Sometimes, you found their connection amusing. It was Boba who had hunted Han Solo and imprisoned him in carbonite, intending to return him to Jabba the Hutt, in return for capturing Leia for Darth Vader, her father… or, something like that. You and Ben had often laughed about how awkward it was when both his parents and your father showed up at once, but after his fall to the Dark Side, you tried not to think about how you were connected to him.

You swung your legs off the bed in order to sit next to Poe normally, keeping your hands to yourself no matter how badly you wanted to hold his hand. I’ve been too physical already. Poe was being physical because of the Dyad, not because of anything he might feel for you: he didn’t feel the same. You didn’t need to be all over him and confuse him further.

“General,” Poe said as Leia came within earshot. He felt comforted by her presence in the way he would if his mother had approached, you noted. She was like a mother figure. To both of you.

“Poe,” Leia replied, “I see our patient has finally woken up.” Her wizened gaze settled on you. “How do you feel, Y/N?”

“Mostly tired,” You admitted softly, feeling at ease enough to do so. “But otherwise fine. My father would like it if I stayed here, but I won’t without your blessing.”

“Which you have,” Leia said immediately. She put a hand on Poe’s shoulder. “Dameron told us everything that happened; and I’m sure you know one of the reasons he came to see you.”

You nodded, although you felt the need to look at Poe pointedly. “I’m not mad, by the way.”

A soft smile settled on his features. “...I know.”

Leia smiled… a bit knowingly. “I’ve only ever heard of Dyads. Luke spoke about them, although I’m afraid I can’t tell you much about it.”

“It’s a little scary,” Poe mumbled, dropping his gaze to the floor. You weren’t sure if he was talking to you or to Leia, but you agreed with him wholeheartedly. “I mean, suddenly knowing so much about her, and her about me, and just…” His dark orbs met yours, conveying a sense of worry. “Feeling each other, like this… it’s a lot to take in.”

“I’m sure it is,” Leia scoffed, “A bond like that isn’t something that you can adjust to overnight. You both need time, which is something you don’t have. I can give you a couple days before I send you back out on a mission, Poe.”

“That’s not necessary, general,” Poe insisted, “We’re good. We need a shower and some food, definitely some more sleep, but we’re good. Right, miracle?”

“Don’t hold back on our account,” You agreed. The war effort certainly needed Poe Dameron, and Luke needed you. “In fact, I was wondering if you might have any job for me. I’m sure there are plenty of places you’re searching for Luke. Or Lor San Tekka.”

Leia was slowly nodding at your proposal. “Out of anyone, you’re the most qualified to search for him… Well, besides me. I was hoping you’d offer.” Her hand moved to your shoulder, and like Poe, she seemed to be able to meet your eyes through your helmet. “But for now, you need rest. Both of you. I’ll send Threepio to show you to an empty room you can use.”

A part of you wished that Poe would offer for you to stay with him. The thought of sleeping alone— although you’d been doing it your whole life— now made you anxious. You didn’t let him know that, though, because he didn’t offer. He only gave you a sympathetic smile. The thought stung, a little, that he hadn’t enjoyed the closeness as much as you thought he did, but that was your own fault. You shouldn’t have expected that.

You pushed those thoughts away. You hadn’t seen C-3PO in years, and you’d readily admit that you missed the droid. “Thank you, general.”

Poe got off the edge of the cot with stiff muscles, standing there for a second to orient himself. “Food first, commander,” Leia told him, “You haven’t eaten much since you brought her here.”

Poe only nodded, far too exhausted to do much more than that. Had he even had his wounds properly treated yet? Had he even told anyone about them?

Yes and yes, Poe answered, and you jumped as you stepped down. Leia didn’t mention it, only continuing to Poe, “If you’re truly ready to continue your missions, I’ll need to see you tomorrow morning for a briefing.”

“I’ll be there,” Poe confirmed.

Leia began to turn away. “I’ll send C-3PO to the mess hall. After you eat, make sure you get some rest.”

You and Poe didn’t say much in response as she walked away. Poe took the lead, although he stood close enough so that your sides nearly brushed. It was a comforting presence to feel, rather than unwelcome. You still weren’t used to it, however. As you left the medbay, you came to realize that it was around noon, meaning the hallways and corridors of the underground base were full of Resistance members, nearly all of which paused to watch you and Poe pass. You heard vague whispers of Fett, and knew that you were recognized— unlike most of the time, when you relished the feel of being so memorable in your father’s legacy that everyone knew you on sight, you’d rather it if the floor were to open up and swallow you right there.

Unfortunately, you weren’t guarding your emotions as well as you thought.

Poe, alerted by your strong waves of anxiety, linked your fingers together lightly. It wasn’t as obvious as holding hands, but it was still plenty comforting. I’m right here, Jay.

Why is it easier for you? Blocking your mind?

It’s not, Poe glanced at you and took a deep breath. It’s not easy at all.

You left that as it was. Clearly it was difficult for him to keep his thoughts in check, too. You wondered if you were just unobservant or were unintentionally tuning out his emotions.

When you entered the dimly-lit central control room, Poe said lowly, “Welcome to D’Qar.” It wasn’t much to look at— old stone that had apparently once housed a Rebel base back in the day, now overgrown with vines and weeds which were still being plucked over by mouse droids. The tech was secondhand or knockoffs, and you realized how very little the Resistance had to work with.

“...Looks like shit,” Was all you could manage.

Poe shrugged halfheartedly. “Yeah, well…”

You looked at him. “I mean that affectionately.” You truly did. It was old, imperfect, and fraught with disaster waiting to happen. It felt like home to you, or maybe a place you could call home.

Poe nodded. “Sure you do.” He knew you meant it.

The mess hall was mostly empty, thankfully, and after collecting trays and a couple of portion packets (which was more than you got on a regular day out at work), you chose a seat well away from everyone else. You were unfamiliar with this type of portion, and so watched carefully as Poe tore the package open with his teeth before filling a bowl with the steamy water from a thermos. He plopped in the white mash, and then worked on peeling out the green strips that resembled seaweed. You mimicked his actions, although you were able to use a knife to open yours. By the time he’d freed the green strips of protein, the white mash had bubbled into something soft that resembled bread.

“It’s not very good,” Poe warned as he pulled out the bread with his fork and set it on his tray, “But it’s food.”

“I’m sure I’ve had worse,” You muttered, grimacing as he decided to eat the green strips raw. He made a face, taking a sip of water to wash it down.

When he was finished, he choked out, “I’m sure you haven’t.”

You unlatched your helmet, pulling it up a bit in order to take a bite of the green stuff yourself. You’d learned well from Din— not even your chin was revealed, but you were able to eat without issue. Poe was right; the raw, poorly-processed nutrition tasted vile, like chemicals and stagnant water. You forced it down anyway, trying to think of something worse. Eventually, you managed to scoff as you cut a piece of the bread away with your fork. “You’ve clearly never had womp rat.”

Poe frowned mid-chew. “...You’ve had womp rat?”

You shrugged. The memory wasn’t a particularly pleasant one. It had been one of your first jobs. You were starving, had gotten lost, and your quarry had escaped, so you’d done only what was necessary. “You do what you’ve gotta do to survive, Poe.”

Poe slowly nodded, pushing himself through another bite of the green stuff. “That’s true.”

The rest of the meal was spent in comfortable silence— outwardly. Within your own minds, you and Poe were essentially staring at each other like a couple of curious lothcats about newcomers. The metallic whirring of a special protocol droid’s footsteps as you finished eating brought your attention to the familiar golden droid as he approached. “Welcome back to D’Qar, Master Dameron. And welcome to you as well, Lady Fett.”

Poe rolled his eyes, skin crawling at the title. You felt oddly humored by Threepio’s term for you. “Hello, Threepio,” you said, “How are you?”

“Just fine, thank you,” Threepio replied, body jerking to address you, “Although I’m sure it might be difficult to recognize me, with the red arm. I assure you I am quite the same as always.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle a bit. You hadn’t even noticed his out-of-place appendage. “I didn’t notice at all. I’d recognize you anywhere, buddy.”

Threepio balked a bit in surprise. “Oh. I’m quite flattered you would say such a thing, my lady.”

Poe snorted. He’s so much older than all of us and has lived through three wars, yet he treats us like his superiors.

It’s his programming, you answered, although I wish he was able to acknowledge how important he is.

You barely caught Poe’s fond smile. It was almost wistful. Maybe even yearning. And it was directed on you, with stars in his eyes. You felt a surge of… something from him. You weren’t sure what it was, and neither was he. The moment passed as quickly as it arrived, though, because Poe was standing up. “I’m… I’m gonna go to my quarters, if you’re okay with Threepio.”

You’re not sure why him leaving you for his quarters stung. It shouldn’t. Don’t be clingy, you chastised yourself. “I’m okay.”

Poe awkwardly nodded before reluctantly setting off. You started to feel anxious watching him leave, which was a first. It was usually only sadness, mourning a love you’d never have. There was that, of course, and it was worse now. “You were never gonna tell me that you’ve been in love with me this whole time, huh?”

His words echoed in your ears. He knew now, and he hadn’t said anything more than that about it. Clearly, he didn’t feel the same. How were you supposed to have a Dyad with the man you loved when he didn’t love you back? When he found the love of his life, it would tear you apart. Would you hinder his happiness, with him able to feel your grief?

“My lady,” Threepio said, and you jerked, realizing that he had been trying to get your attention.

“Sorry, Threepio. What were you saying?”

“Only that I can take you to your quarters now if you wish, Lady Fett,” he responded, to which you nodded and stood.

Your quarters were only large enough, really, for a small strip of floor, a tiny desk, a cot in the stone wall, and a door leading off to the fresher. It was more than you’d expected, and Threepio let you know that you had gotten one of the commander’s quarters so that you would have your own private fresher, courtesy of Leia’s direct orders, so that you would have somewhere to remove and clean your armor. You resolved to thank her personally in the morning, but you asked Threepio to relay the message anyway ahead of you.

Once your door was locked, you painstakingly removed your beskar, piece by piece, until they were in a neat pile on the bed. Your helmet came off very last, the chilly air of the room making the hair on the back of your neck stand up on edge. You hadn’t had your mask off in over twenty-four hours, which you were unused to. The lonely recesses of space, hidden away in the Slave, had given you the privacy you’d needed to take it off most of the time. It wasn’t a part of your Creed to keep the armor on, but it was something you refused to do for anyone, unless they were very close to you. You stared into your own reflection of the transparisteel visor, frowning at yourself. Would you ever be able to remove it in front of anyone?

With a sigh, you placed it on the bed next to your plates. Your flight suit, gloves, and boots came off next, followed by your socks, undershirt and shorts. It was all neatly arranged on the bed, and the jetpack leaned against the nightstand. Feeling vulnerable and exposed without your armor and quite literally entirely naked, you rushed into the fresher.

You took your time. Hot water was something you very rarely experienced, and you took advantage of that, relaxing under the spray until it began to grow cold. Only then did you begin to scrub at your skin, careful of the bruises and scrapes from your fight with Ben.

Ben…

You hadn’t thought about it, until now. Now it was all you could think about. “We can have that again.” You missed him, more than you’d realized. You tried to grope for your anger and use it as a wall for your grief, but it was a weak and feeble defense. You wanted your brother back, and if you wouldn’t join him in his atrocities, he only wanted you dead.

Before you could stop yourself, you’d sunk to the floor of the tub, tugged your knees to your chest, and burst into tears. The scar on your thigh made whatever last dregs of mental protection you may have had crumble around you, and you were sobbing hard as you traced the outline of the mark which held so much grief for you. Why did I leave that night? Would things have turned out any differently if I hadn’t?

Miracle…

Poe’s voice in your head made you jump and gasp.

Sorry.

He stood solemnly outside your bathroom door, freshly showered himself and very concerned. I felt you. He didn’t need to ask if you were okay. It was a stupid question, and the answer was very clearly no. You buried your face in your knees, trying to gather the strength to finish rinsing yourself clean.

I’ll clean your armor.

You don’t have to do that.

You need it. Poe was insistent. In his mind, he felt that you needed it ready so that you could comfortably exit the bathroom with him able to remain with you. His thoughtfulness made your already vulnerable emotions rear a new head, one that was grateful beyond words.

So while you finished in the shower, Poe cleaned your armor until it was like new, even taking your flight suit and underclothes to the nearest laundry room while leaving you under BB-8’s watchful eye. When he returned, you had just gotten out of the fresher and stood on the other side of the door with a towel wrapped around you securely.

While Poe stood with his back to the rest of the room by the door, BB-8 ferried you your armor, piece by piece. Your underclothes and flight suit were warm and gave you a fuzzy, comforting feeling as you clamped on your pieces of beskar over it. The inside of your helmet smelled like an air freshener, which made you smile a bit. You ensured your hair was dry before putting it on. Only when you were entirely covered from head to toe did you exit the bathroom, thanking BB-8 softly. The only thing you hadn’t put on was your jetpack— and Din’s old cape, of course.

Poe turned back around when he was certain you were decent, for a Mandalorian. You stared at him wordlessly for several moments. “...Thank you, Poe.”

He knew you didn’t mean just for the armor. He smiled softly. “You don’t ever have to thank me, miracle.”

You spoke before you could stop yourself. “Do you…” When your voice cracked, you tried to start over. “Do you think there’s any chance… for Ben to come back to us? Or… or do you think he’s truly lost forever?”

Poe hesitated. “...Nothing’s ever for sure in this galaxy, Jay. But even when all we have is hope… at least it’s something.” His hands dropped from his hips as he came closer to you. “I miss him, too.”

He wrapped you in his arms, in his emotions and mind, tugging you closer than close as if he was trying to squeeze all doubt and fear out of you. “We’re not gonna stop trying to get him back, Y/N.”

You fisted your hands in his jacket and buried your helmeted face in the dip of his shoulder. “...We have to find Luke first.”

“Yeah,” Poe agreed. “Luke first.”

Wordlessly, he pulled you down onto the bed. Immediately, you entangled yourselves so that you were as close as you could possibly get. But sleep before Luke, miracle.

You felt so safe and calm in his embrace that you very nearly let it slip. Three words that would change everything, even though he already knew you felt them.

I won’t hold it against you, came the vaguest whisper of a thought.

You hesitated. It was more of a powerful, strong emotion than any words, but he felt it and held you tighter, closing his eyes and sighing contentedly as he started to fall asleep. I love you.

Poe registered the emotion, but it wasn’t until you began to doze that he actually responded with words.

…I know.

He meant far more than he’d say.

When Poe woke up, he was acutely aware of the way you were clinging to him— legs entangled with his, arms encircling his torso under his jacket, head nestled under his. It couldn’t possibly be comfortable to sleep in all that armor; he wondered if you’d ever feel comfortable enough with him to sleep without it.

He could feel your exhaustion. Your battle with Ren had left you in shambles, both physically and emotionally. He hadn’t been as close to him as you were; he couldn’t imagine it. Your eyes were most likely swollen from crying, and he ended up giving you a reassuring squeeze even though you were asleep. You were scared of Ren, but you missed Ben; he wished he could protect you better from both of them.

BB-8 beeped softly, reminding him of his meeting with Leia. “Oh. Yeah. Stay with her, buddy? Let her know where I went when she wakes up.” BB-8 replied with a series of quiet whirs as Poe meticulously plucked himself out of your grasp, slithering with surprising stealth out of the cot before hurrying out of the room. He was hungry, and still tired, and his cracked rib ached; but the bacta patch did wonders, and he’d grab breakfast and a caf on his way back to you.

It was only Leia in the briefing room when he entered. Suddenly aware of his disheveled state, he straightened his clothes and ran a hand through his curls to try and seem more presentable. Leia snorted with amusement. “I’ve seen you look worse, Poe.”

Poe shrugged. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I can’t try to look any better.”

The mirth in Leia’s eyes left, and her frown deepened. “How is she?”

“Tired,” Poe replied immediately, then, after a moment, “...She misses him.”

A darkness swept over her face at the mention of her lost son. “Me too.” She didn’t let the grief linger for longer than it needed to, focusing instead on the task at hand. “Are you ready for your next mission, Poe?”

Poe nodded resolutely. “Of course.” He already knew what it was: find Lor San Tekka. He just needed a destination.

“You cannot fail, Poe,” Leia told him as she leaned against the desk.

Poe’s hands found his hips, taking the pressure on him in stride. “I know, General Organa. I understand what’s at stake.”

“I’m not sure you do,” Leia sighed, “Not yet.” Shadows danced in her dark gaze as she remembered a time when star destroyers terrorized every planet, and any one of them at any given time may have had Darth Vader on board. “You grew up in a galaxy where the Empire had already been defeated. Everything you know about their capacity for evil, you know secondhand.”

She was right, of course. But Poe had conviction. “General, with respect, I’ve fought the First Order before and beat them every time. Once in a ship that had to be at least fifty years old. They aren’t the Empire. Not even close.”

“No,” Leia agreed, but her next statement proved ominous. “Not yet.” She continued as she crossed over the room to grab a holopad. “Many across the galaxy are attempting to curry favor with the First Order by selling them information. Thanks to your efforts on those missions you’re so proud of, we were able to intercept some of that intelligence before it reached Supreme Leader Snoke. It tells us a great deal about his plans— but most importantly, it is clear that the First Order is searching for my brother.”

“Luke Skywalker,” Poe inputted, although it wasn’t where his mind went first. It cast to the Mandalorian he’d left asleep in her quarters, watched over by his droid.

Luckily, it seemed Leia also thought of you. “Yes. And Y/N. We cannot allow the First Order to find them. We cannot.”

“We have Y/N,” Poe said, relieved at that, “She’s safe with us. But what about Luke? Do you have any idea where he is yet?”

Leia hesitated, chewing her lip. “...No.”

“What about Lor San Tekka?” Poe questioned further. “If…”

Without another word, Leia activated the holopad, showing Poe an image of an elderly man meditating underneath an enormous orb. He reminded him of a Jedi himself, but that definitely wasn’t Luke. “Who is that?” It was a ridiculous question, in hindsight, because he realized who it must be seconds after he asked.

“Lor San Tekka,” Leia answered anyway, a bit amused, “He’s been all over the galaxy— there’s not a sacred site or Jedi ruin he hasn’t seen. He’s supposed to be dead, but this holovid you intercepted shows him alive, and older than the last time I saw him. He could still be out there, and if he is, he’s our best hope for finding Luke— besides Y/N.”

Leia shut the holopad off and proceeded to hand him a datachip. “We know Lor San Tekka is alive. The First Order does not. This is a huge opportunity for us to get ahead of them, but we have to act on it now, before the First Order learns the truth. The site’s location is in our records. I need you to go there and ask Lor San Tekka for help.”

“And if he’s not there?” It was an entirely logical possibility. One Poe had a feeling he’d be facing.

Warmth passed over Leia’s face as she took a seat at her desk. “You know why you’re getting this assignment, Poe?” He waited, an eyebrow arched in question. “Because you don’t need to be told every little thing. Just get it done.”

Poe nodded. “Yes, general. I’ll leave right away.”

“Not yet,” Leia stopped him from turning away. “I’ve authorized you to select a small squadron. Four more pilots and a technician. It’s unlikely you’ll run into trouble. This planet is at the back end of the galaxy. Still… you never know.”

Already, Poe was running through a mental list of those whom he thought would make the best choices. “Right. Better safe than sorry. I’ll pick good people.”

Leia fixed him with a stern stare. “You better. I’ve been on my fair share of missions like this. Things can fall apart quickly, sometimes before you realize what’s happening. Whomever you choose… make sure they’re people you can trust.”

Poe already had the list in mind. He’s sure he can persuade them… but… “One more thing, general.” She raised an eyebrow, urging him silently to go on. Poe fiddled with the datachip in his hand, feeling awkward when he asked, “Would… would it be a good idea to take Y/N?” If he was being honest, it was a partially selfish request. He couldn’t imagine being that far away from you… not yet.

Leia smirked a little, amused. “That’s a very good idea. Perhaps Lor San Tekka might be more inclined to help if one of Luke’s old students was with you. But the decision is fully up to her, Poe. If you can convince her…”

She left it at that. Poe thanked her and set out with the datachip in his pocket, his destinations altered slightly. Breakfast, however quick, could wait.

He needed you on this mission, and he wasn’t quite sure yet as to why he felt so strongly about that.

What jerked you awake was the sensation of loneliness. You didn’t like that, despite having slept like this for so many years before your Dyad. You’d hardly sat up when BB-8 rolled over, emitting soft sounds of reassurance. “Hi, Beebs,” you croaked out, voice hoarse from a night of crying yourself to sleep. You found yourself missing the embrace Poe had you locked in all night; it felt strange to wake up without it.

BB-8 whirled at you; apparently Poe had gone to see Leia, but no sooner had he told you this did the door to your quarters open. Poe stepped half-in, seeming convicted about something. “You ready to go find Lor San Tekka?”

Immediately, you stood up, grabbing your jetpack and cape. “When do we leave?”

You weren’t expecting the relief that came from him. He didn’t want to go without me, you realized. With BB-8 following closely at your heels, you and Poe exited the room side-by-side. Poe didn’t have to verbally explain anything to you; with a flood of memories he couldn’t stop, you experienced his briefing with Leia secondhand. It was… still strange, to say the least.

For BB-8’s sake, though, he did explain a bit. “Not sure where we’re going, yet; I haven’t looked at the chip. You remember the way to mess, Jay?” You nodded. It was a fairly easy route, helped by your memories from Poe. “Alright. Beebs, after that, take her to hangar six. You remember that old T-65 tandem?”

“I can’t take the Slave?” You understood why after you said it, waving a hand in dismissal. “Nevermind. If word gets out that my ship is with the Resistance, Ren will know who I’m with. Right now he only knows about us; the longer we can keep who I throw my cards with a secret, the more of an advantage I’ll have.”

BB-8 beeped in acknowledgement of Poe’s orders. “Thanks, buddy. I’ll meet you there; I have to go pick my squadron.”

“Any idea of who you’ll choose?”

Poe nodded. “I’ve got a few. See you at the hangar.”

Poe had hardly gotten three steps when you called him back. “Aren’t you eating any breakfast?”

He smiled a little, buzzing with a weird emotion you didn’t quite understand. “I’ll grab something before I head to the hangar. Promise.”

It was weird; it didn’t matter that Poe was entirely out of your line of sight and earshot, you could still feel little bursts of emotion from him— frustration at tripping over a mouse droid, excitement when Wexley agreed to join his squadron— and still catch bits and pieces of his thoughts. You wondered if he could feel the same from you.

After a small and horrid breakfast that you weren’t going to complain about (it was far more than you’d ever had on your own), you asked BB-8 to escort you to the central control room. There, you found a buzz of Resistance members and commanders, most of which paused momentarily to watch you as you entered the room. You ignored their gazes and approached the one person in the room that didn’t make a Mandalorian entering a very big deal at all.

“General Organa,” You said, and she turned with a small smile.

“Y/N. I trust that Poe’s told you about the mission at hand?”

“He has,” You confirmed, then, as you followed her from station-to-station, “I’m going with him.”

“That’s wonderful,” Leia said, quietly giving her permission for some order or another, “Lor might be more inclined to help if you’re with them. Poe knew Luke, but you were one of his students; your bond with my brother is second only to mine.” She turned a warm smile on you, seeming to read your mind. “Even if you’re not a Jedi.”

You dipped your head to her out of respect. “I also wanted to thank you for the private quarters, general.”

“Threepio told me.”

“I wanted to relay it to you personally as well.”

Leia smiled, putting a hand on your shoulder. “You don’t have to thank me, Y/N. You’re one of us now.”

One of us. It was something you’d longed to hear your whole life. Why did you let your feelings for Poe dictate your place in the war? What kind of naïve thoughts had you been thinking? It was far worse now, and now you were stuck close to him: but it could be ignored. It hurt, certainly, but with everyone’s focus on the war efforts, it wasn’t as palpable as you’d thought it would be.

Leia gestured to a far corner of the room, shadows flicking across her eyes. You followed her movement and felt a wave of nostalgia and sorrow. “You should say hello. I like to think that he can still hear us, like a coma.”

You nodded, making your way there; BB-8 stayed back a bit, giving you a moment as you knelt before the older droid. He hadn’t moved an inch from the position he was in the day he’d went to sleep, but it seemed out of respect, people kept him free of dust and cobwebs. “...Hey, Artoo,” You said, in a whisper. You wished he’d burst to life with those familiar beeps and whistles, wiggling a bit on his stabilizers in excitement to see you. But there was no life in R2-D2. He seemed only an empty shell of himself, the reminder of a droid who had been so riddled with grief at the disappearance of his master that he’d powered down. You put a hand on his body, feeling no warmth from his converters. He was cold, and still… like he was dead. It was impossible, really, for a droid to die this way, but it certainly felt like that was what had happened to him. You leaned against him in a half-hug. “Miss you, buddy.” After a moment, you whispered to him, “We’ll find Luke, okay? I know it, in my heart. We’ll find him.” Maybe it was your imagination, but you swore you heard the faintest echo of his curious little beeps. When you pulled back, there was still no sign of consciousness in R2, and so with a pat on his head, you left with BB-8 for hangar six.

—DAMERON—

Poe’s new squadron— Black Squadron, named after his x-wing— was made up solely of people he trusted with his life.

Temmin “Snap” Wexley, and his wife whom Poe had served in the Republic Navy with, Karé Kun; Jessika Pava, whom Poe had also known from the Navy; L’ulo, who’d helped to raise Poe and was a respected war veteran from the days of the Rebellion; and Oddy Muva, a new but promising addition to the tech team who was undergoing training to become a pilot.

And then there was you, of course, who Poe trusted above them all.

Poe didn’t ask you to join Black Squadron, not yet. You were still adjusting to the idea of even being on base, and he knew you weren’t sure about actually joining yet. He didn’t want to push you into doing anything; for now, he wanted to focus on one mission at a time.

When he reached the hangar, Black Squadron was gathered, fully ready for departure, where their x-wings had been gathered. The T-65 tandem was there in place of his beloved Black One, and you stood against its foremost landing gear with your arms crossed, BB-8 by your side. Black Squadron spoke quietly amongst themselves, eyeing you warily; he wondered if any of them had even ever seen a Mandalorian in real life. Had anyone, including yourself, even explained why you were there?

Seemingly not. Snap approached him, meeting him halfway and glancing back at you with something like worry. “Who is she?”

“That’s Y/N,” Poe answered calmly, “Y/N Fett. She was one of Luke’s students before Kylo Ren destroyed the Academy.”

Snap recognized the story and frowned. “Is she the one who was close with… him?” Poe reluctantly nodded, knowing where Snap was going with this. Snap’s frown deepened, hands on his hips. “How do you know you can trust her? How do you know she’s not working with him?”

Poe put a reassuring hand on Snap’s shoulder. “She’s not.”

“How do you—“

“I just do, Snap…” He fixed his second-in-command with a sympathetic but stern look. “Do you trust me?”

“With my life,” Snap answered immediately.

“I trust her,” Poe emphasized, “So you can, too.”

Snap hesitated for a moment before giving in with a shake of his head, patting Poe on the back. “Alright. Whatever you say, Poe.”

With Snap somewhat satisfied but still wary, the two men made their way back to the group. It’s only a natural response, your voice made Poe jump, earning a strange look from Snap. Sorry. In his place, I’d do the same.

So would I, Poe agreed, glancing at you meaningfully. It didn’t go unnoticed by either of you that the others caught on, especially L’ulo, who hummed thoughtfully as he tapped a rhythm on his chin.

Poe took a breath as he took in his squadron. A sense of pride overcame him at seeing them all gathered and ready so quickly for the mission. “Alright, alright! Look at you guys. Looking good— looking tough!” His attention focused on Oddy, who shifted his weight awkwardly off to the side. “All the ships fueled up and ready, Oddy?”

“Yeah, Poe,” Oddy sighed, almost regretfully, “I wish I were coming with you, though.”

“You’ll get your shot, buddy,” Poe promised, putting a hand on the tech’s shoulder. “Little more training and you’ll be right up there with us. One thing the Resistance needs, it’s pilots.”

“Where are we going, anyway?” Jess spoke up, bringing Poe’s attention to her on his way to the ship you waited at. “I was working on my engines— had an idea to get my power converter efficiency up by like fifteen percent. And then you called us up for…” She waved a hand generally, encompassing the gathered fighters and pilots in her gesture. “Whatever this is. Had to put the whole thing back together before I was finished.”

“I’m sorry, Jess,” Poe sighed, genuinely regretful. An x-wing with better converter efficiency would make a better weapon against the First Order, but it would have to wait. “It’s classified. At least, for now.” Jess’s face fell.

“Classified,” L’ulo scoffed, “I’ve been fighting with Leia for decades. I was at Endor. You’d think that'd earn me a little trust.”

Karé couldn’t help but chuckle a little. “And Snap fought at Jakku. You’re lucky they let either of you old-timers anywhere near a fighter these days. Don’t complain.”

“Come on, Karé,” Snap frowned, “I was like sixteen at Jakku.”

“What about the Mandalorian?” Jess asked, making you tense. Poe glanced back at you worriedly. “Is it classified for her?”

Poe dodged the question. “Snap, Jess, L’ulo, Karé, Oddy; this is Y/N Fett.” Their expressions noticeably shifted, making you somewhere between slightly arrogant and uncomfortable. “She was…” He hesitated. The mission really was classified for now. Nobody knew yet that the First Order was looking for Luke, much less Lor San Tekka. Explaining your presence here… He’d already told Snap too much, but his friend remained silent; albeit he bore a questioning frown. “She’ll be able to help us on this mission. Leia requested me to find her specifically.” It wasn’t a lie.

Real smooth, you teased, lighthearted.

Shut up, Poe countered, flushing a bit. Shaking your head with amusement, you started to climb into the backseat of the tandem x-wing when BB-8 was being pulled into the droid compartment. Poe went up after you. To his gathered allies, he said, with every ounce of genuine feeling in him, “You are my team. You are my friends. We are Black Squadron… and it’s an honor.”

Poe donned his helmet and closed the cockpit, starting up the launching sequence. There was a loud clang behind him, making him jump and half-turn to see what the hell you were doing back there—

“Sorry. It’s kind of hard to get strapped in when my jetpack is on my back.”

Poe fought a smile. He wasn’t sure why you sounded so sweet to him just then.

You scoffed. “I’m a Mandalorian, Poe. I don’t do sweet.”

Poe snorted, flipping the necessary switches to launch his starfighter. “Yeah, well, I’m a commander. I don’t do hot ass either.”

You were silent for a moment. “...You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

You sounded absolutely mortified, making Poe laugh from deep in his chest. “No, it’s okay. I lied. I do actually do hot ass. I think I’ve got a great ass.”

Your groan of annoyance made him laugh harder. “Please, shut up—“

“No, I’m serious! I have an amazing ass if it can attract a Mandalorian’s attention.”

Snap’s voice through the comms made you both go deathly silent. “Um, guys? You do realize that your comms are on an open channel, right?”

Poe blushed deeply up to his hairline, silently cursing himself out. He cleared his throat. “N-no I didn’t. Thanks for pointing that out, Black Two.”

Then he heard something he didn’t expect.

Your laughter.

And not like a chuckle. From the depths of your torso, strong enough to make you double over, you laughed, without reserve. Poe actually turned his head to try and see, able to just barely, unaware of how widely he was smiling until his cheeks started to hurt. Hands down, your laugh was the single most beautiful sound he’d ever heard in his life. It was like silver bells, or x-wing engines, or the sound of wildlife on Yavin. It felt like home, and Poe watched in awe as you even had to reach up under your helmet to wipe away tears of laughter. If the price of hearing that was his embarrassment, he’d gladly become the laughingstock of the entire galaxy just to hear it.

He didn’t let you know it; he didn’t want you to think he was taking advantage of you because of the Dyad. But he wondered if you felt the fuzzy warmth that spread from the center of his chest to take over the entirety of his body, forcing him to keep smiling in order to let out some of the emotion that way he didn’t simply combust in his seat.

“Oh, Maker,” L’ulo said teasingly, and Poe glanced over to his friend’s a-wing; he watched Poe fondly and shook his head with amusement. Poe knew that tone; it was the same one he’d use whenever Poe would come home with a new crush on a girl from school. He didn’t pay the mocking any mind, though, too busy trying to infuse the sound of your laughter deep into his memory.

—FETT—

Ovanis was more of an asteroid than an actual planet, as far as you could tell. Rocky and all but uninhabitable on the surface, intel stated that the civilization could be found in cave systems below the jagged rocks that made up the land for as far as they eye could see after you entered the atmosphere.

Poe gave the order for Black Squadron to wait as he— and in turn, you— went to explore for an entrance. He found one, alright, and was intent on exploring it before the rest of his squadron to determine the threat level. His insistence to put himself in danger before anyone else made you worry for him, but you were also kind of proud.

“Watch this.”

Nevermind. “Poe what—“ You bit back a cry of alarm as Poe suddenly pitched the x-wing into a steep dive, spinning toward a small and seemingly unimportant cave opening. BB-8 whistled in alarm. “You’ll see.”

“Poe, I swear to the Maker, if you get us killed by smashing us into rock or something—“

“Do you trust me, miracle?” Poe asked, not pulling up.

Your heart was in your throat; you hated flying if someone else was piloting. But… This was Poe. “...Yeah, Poe, I trust you.”

“Then hang on.”

You did.

You’d only ever heard about Poe’s expertise. Maybe that was what he was trying to show you here. At nearly top speed, he shot into the cave, which sharply turned; he caught it, following the path of the tunnel like he’d been here a million times. No matter how closely the s-foils came to the walls of the cave, they never caught on anything or scraped against the walls. Poe even flipped, dodging a particularly low-hanging stalagmite with such finesse you wondered exactly how Force-sensitive he really was.

Somehow, he slipped straight through two closing steel doors with little else but small rock debris crumbling from the ceiling as a warning. The x-wing came so dangerously close you could feel the rumble in your chest from how violently they closed. You would’ve been crushed.

Unshaken, Poe continued forward, doors nor hanging daggers of rock phasing him in the slightest. You were… in a little bit of awe. You’d never seen such skill in a pilot. The controls were like extensions of himself, fully in his command. You would’ve crashed by now if you’d been flying.

BB-8 whirred in alarm, and Poe was able to respond easily while still flying. “You’re picking up a signal? Listen, BB-8, I think we’ve got more immediate problems, okay? See if you can send out a bounce pulse, get a map going, maybe let me see some of those turns ahead of the—“

He was interrupted by the s-foils scraping against the walls due to the shrinking tunnel, jolting the whole ship violently. Poe slowed down. “Any time now, buddy!”

You saw the glow of a holomap appear on Poe’s dashboard, followed by a slew of beeps on BB-8’s end. “I see it. Cavern opens up a bit ahead. Might give us more room to move.”

BB-8 asked something else, making you chuckle a bit. Poe scoffed in disbelief. “No, we can’t turn around. Got no choice here, pal. This is the only way in, and I don’t feel like flying home and telling General Organa we couldn’t complete the mission because we got scared of a cave. Besides, don’t you want to see what’s down here? I know I do. What about you, Jay?”

You often got in trouble with Luke for going off to explore the lands around the academy, as those escapades ended more often than not with injury on your part. It was as if something was always calling you deeper, farther, until you’d thoroughly explored whatever area you were in; it was something that gave you an edge as a bounty hunter. No stone was ever left unturned. “I’d love to see more,” You answered, “But… I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

Poe actually laughed, although you’re sure he felt the very same unease about the upcoming chamber that you did; after all, he’d felt uneasy around the Jedi Temple Guards. “That just means things are about to get interesting.”

You couldn’t help but snort under your breath. “You’re a chaotic man, Poe Dameron.”

“That’s what gives me my charm,” Poe retorted as you entered the vast chamber, made into a maze by the stalagmites and stalactites that filled it. It almost resembled a mouth full of sharp teeth. In any case, it gave Poe more room to move. “Okay, that’s better.” He wiggled the x-wing a bit in the space, testing to see if anything was damaged. “Looks like we’re through the worst of it. Man, that was some maze.”

“I’ve never seen anything like that, in all my years as a bounty hunter.”

He knew that you weren’t talking about the cave. You could barely see his face when he turned to half-look at you over his shoulder, but you knew he was flushing. “...Thanks, miracle.” He slowed even further. “Let’s slow it down. Maybe catch our breath here for a second?”

He’d hardly finished the sentence when fire and debris flashed in your vision suddenly, followed by a horrendous shudder like an earthquake. Overhead, the ceiling began to crumble, more explosions rattling your surroundings, and Poe launched into action as alarms began to blare. BB-8 screamed in a very droid fashion, but Poe almost effortlessly navigated through the crumbling debris. You yelped, clinging to the back of Poe’s seat with a white-knuckled grip that made your gloves squeak in protest. “Great. Proximity mines in the ceiling— the whole thing’s coming down on us! This is a kill box! We gotta get outta here, pal, find me an exit!”

BB-8 whirred frantically, only finding one suitable exit. “Got it— hold tight, guys!” It didn’t take Poe long to get you there, but the problem was that there was yet another door. Bigger, faster to move, it was already closing on your approach. BB-8 cried out in terror. “Yes, BB-8, I see that the door is closing!”

The distance was too great, and it was closing too fast— the opening was far too small for the x-wing.

“Yes, Y/N, I know we’re not gonna make it!” Poe went faster. “Come on… Divert all power to engines!” The x-wing lurched forward. “Okay, okay… We can do this! Probably!”

“I’m not settling for probably, Poe!” You cried, extending an arm in the direction of the door over his shoulder. In this situation, it was briefly difficult to focus on the Force, but you made yourself do it, manipulating it to hold the door— even push it a little farther open. It was heavy, and it tried to move regardless thanks to powerful gears in the walls. You could hear the strain of metal even through the cockpit. You’ve got this, miracle— I’m right here with you.

Poe gave the x-wing a final push, turning vertically; he zipped through cleanly, and not a moment too soon. With a shuddering gasp, you let go of the Force, allowing the door to slam closed so violently behind you that the entire cave shuddered.

“Holy kriff,” Poe breathed when you were free-and-clear. After a second, he gave an exhilarated whoop. “Hell yeah! You really are a miracle, you know that?! We wouldn’t have been able to get to this point without you!”

“Poe,” You scolded lightly, “I just did what I had to. Nothing special.”

“Are you okay?” It was his next concern, and he practically entirely ignored your previous statement.

“I’m fine,” You assured him, before both of you turned your attention to what lay outside the cockpit.

It was a massive, circular chamber, clear of any hazards, and with good reason. On several different levels were buildings, housing a sizable civilization; the problem was, they all seemed to be missing. There was no sign of stir anywhere, as if they had all suddenly dropped what they were doing and promptly disappeared.

Although the center of attention, without a doubt, was the enormous, glowing blue egg hanging from the ceiling via a bundle of cords and wires.

“Me’ven?”

“I don’t know what you just said, Jay, but. Yeah. Whoa.”

Poe put the x-wing down on one side of the cavern. Once you were both on solid ground, you began to reattach your jetpack. BB-8 beeped curiously at Poe, who answered with, “No. Not what I was expecting either.” He shook his head to try and clear it. “I’m gonna check in with the others. Let ‘em know we made it.” BB-8 answered with a couple of questioning beeps. “Sure. Go for it. Track down that signal you were so worried about.” As his droid rolled off, Poe picked up the comms. You, still in a bit of a daze from the harrowing entry to the cavern, found yourself lost in admiring a distant crystalline waterfall that you could faintly hear from here.

“Black Two, come in.”

“I read you, Black Leader. You make it through alright?”

“Yeah. Got a little dicey, but we’re in. Wouldn’t’ve made it if it weren’t for Y/N.” You tossed him a look over your shoulder, one he met with a warm smile that gave you butterflies.

“What’s down there?”

Poe glanced around and shrugged. “Hard to say— looks like a settlement, maybe. Deserted, far as I can tell.” Even as he said it, you felt that wasn’t the case. “There is a pretty big egg, though.”

Snap was rightly confused. “‘Egg’? What are you… Ugh, listen, is there anywhere we can land? Scanners don’t see a flat surface anywhere near here bigger than a gundark.”

“The cave’s a tricky flight, Snap. We almost didn’t make it through. You guys should be good on fuel for a bit. Why don’t you let me look around a little, see if I—“

A blaster shot echoed so crisply in the cave it hurt your ears. Panic overwhelmed you as you spun around with sabers drawn, blasting to life in your hands. Poe was alright— shocked and with a throbbing hand from the impact— but he almost wasn’t. He was nearly killed.

Because I wasn’t paying attention.

No, miracle—

Neither of you could say much more. From out of nowhere, a stern-faced shaman had arrived with her posse of soldiers, all their blasters trained on the two of you. “Whoa whoa whoa! There is no need for that!” Poe cried, holding his aching hand.

BB-8 surged forward with his tiny zapper weapon ready, and you braced yourself in a fighting stance. “Easy! Easy, everyone just calm down.” BB-8 whirled in question. “Yes, that means you too, BB-8. I’m sure we can all be pals…” At the sight of their grim faces, he added, “Eventually.”

Poe nodded at you. It’s okay.

Reluctantly, you sheathed your blades and returned the hilts to your belt. “My name is Poe Dameron,” He said, “And the droid is BB-8. My Mandalorian friend here is Y/N Fett. We aren’t here for trouble. See?” He slowly laid his blaster on the ground before him. “I’m putting down my blaster. We’re here because we’re looking for someone— show ‘em, BB.”

The droid immediately showed the gathered tribespeople the holo of Lor San Tekka, right under the very orb in this cavern. The shaman recognized him immediately. “That’s… That’s the explorer.”

“You got it,” Poe nodded, “He was here, unless there’s another giant egg shrine around here somewhere. We just need to talk to him. And then we’ll be out of your hair, I promise. Where is he?”

“Gone,” the shaman answered, her voice briefly overcome with emotion and shadows in her all-black eyes. “He left long ago.”

“Kriff,” Poe hissed through his teeth. “Do you know where he went?”

“Even if I did, why would I tell you?” She snapped. “I know the explorer. I trust him. You…” She turned away. “I do not know at all.”

Poe was actually offended. “Hey, come on! Give me a chance, lady!”

You placed a hand on Poe’s shoulder, urging him to stand down. He did so reluctantly, letting you do your thing; if you were lesser, you simply would have used a mind trick to get the information. You refused to become that. Negotiation should never be underestimated. “My lady,” You said, catching her attention. She turned to listen to you. “My mentor is in grave danger, and the explorer you know is the only one who might know where he is in the entire galaxy. We must find him. Can you not help us?”

The shaman frowned, in disbelief. “We are the crèche. This egg—“ she gestured to the great orb above you— “is our charge, our purpose, and our salvation. We protect and nurture it, and in return, we bathe in its radiance.”

I don’t see what this has to do with—

Shut it, Poe. I’m negotiating.

Right. You’re doing amazing, sweetheart.

“Its presence guides our lives,” The shaman continued, “It holds salvation itself— the savior unborn. Someday the egg will hatch, and we, or our descendants, shall receive our reward for keeping it safe these many generations.” She turned a pointed glare onto you and Poe. “We will not allow anyone— anyone— to prevent that from happening.”

Poe scoffed. “What’s with the tone? I’m not here to hurt your egg. I like your egg!” If it weren’t for the seriousness of the situation, the absurdity of his comment would have made you laugh.

“We mean your charge no harm, my lady,” You said gently, “We only wish to know where the explorer went. We need his help, but first we need yours. Would you grant us that?”

She hesitated. “The explorer spent two full seasons with us, learning our ways and communing with the savior unborn. He became our brother, and in return we shared our secrets with him.” She alternated her glare between you and Poe. “Are you willing to do the same?”

Poe faltered, nervous under her pupil-less stare. “...We’re sort of on a deadline here.”

“As I thought,” the shaman huffed, “I will tell you nothing.”

BB-8 bumped into Poe, quietly asking permission like a child asking his father for something. “What? Oh, sure. Go ahead. Keep looking for that signal. I’m gonna see if we can’t figure this whole thing out.” To the shaman, he said, “Look, we really need to know where Lor… uh, the explorer went. This may be a little hard to believe, but the fate of the galaxy is at stake.”

“We completely agree,” the shaman said, although her stubborn and close-minded ways were making you frustrated. “That is why we have given up everything for our lives here. No matter what turbulent events shape the universe outside this place, as long as we protect the egg, all will be well in the end.”

Poe had less control over his agitation. “And if billions of people die in the meantime?! Come on, there has to be some way I can convince you that I’m one of the good guys— this is ridiculous!”

One of the soldiers trained his blaster on Poe because of his raised voice; you stepped between them, hands raised. “Easy… There’s no need for violence.”

“Okay, okay,” Poe took a few deep breaths, “You’re right, I got a little upset there. I’m good now. We’re all good. Nice and relaxed.”

BB-8’s frantic beeping brought your attention to him; your hearts sank at what you saw. “Harran—“

“Oh no,” Poe said as he took the First Order tracker from his droid; he lifted it, which probably wasn’t his best idea. “You need to listen to me right now, all of you!”

The shaman panicked. “He’s got a detonator— he’s threatening the egg! Take him down!”

“Hey, hey, let’s not be hasty,” Poe tried as every blaster in the room trained on him, “This isn’t a deton—“ They opened fire.

Poe dove, avoiding the blaster fire as you activated your sabers, using a series of well-timed spins to deflect their shots into the dirt. Poe rolled, kicking a soldier so hard that they fell back, allowing him to snatch their blaster. Standing back-to-back with BB-8 at your heels, you and Poe faced the gathered crowd of soldiers; before they could slaughter you both, you extended a palm and drew their weapons forcibly away from them via the Force. Your show of power made them stumble and gasp in fear.

“Okay then,” Poe breathed, licking his lips and tossing his head to get his curls out of his eyes, “Okay then!”

The shaman put herself between you and the egg, raising her hands as a poor defense. “Please! Don’t shoot the egg! You… You can’t!”

Your frustration mantled, and you unleashed it in a harsh twirl of your sabers and a growl. “Bic ni skana’din— sushir at ni! We are not here for your egg! We’re here because we need your help!”

“You know what this is?” Poe added, “A tracker. My droid just found it on my ship. It’s been signaling our location ever since I arrived on this planet.”

“I don’t understand,” the shaman replied unsurely, “Who has been tracking you?”

“The kind of people who’d boil up that egg and eat it for breakfast,” Poe dropped his blaster pointedly. “People who are nothing like us.” Their blasters were still trained on you, but you sheathed your sabers anyway, putting them back on your belt and raising your hands. “I’ve got people outside, up on the surface. They’ve got ships, weapons. You let me get word to them and we can protect you. I promise.” Warily, Poe stepped slowly through their ranks until he reached the shaman, extending a hand toward her. “What do you say? Pals?”

Reluctantly, the shaman nodded. “Very well. Return to your ship and call your allies.” Poe took off immediately at a run for the x-wing, while you and BB-8 remained with the shaman.

“You are the more level-headed of the two of you,” the shaman told you softly, “I like you better. Which I must admit is a first; most Mandalorians are cold and unforgiving.”

“That was after we decided to go ba’slan shev’la in order to avoid the extinction of our race,” You answered evenly.

The shaman gazed upon you with sympathy in her gaze. It was something Mandalorians rarely got. “You are a sad people.”

“Better to be sad than dead,” You countered softly, then averted your gaze. You didn’t like the pity in her eyes.

It made you feel weak.

—DAMERON—

“This is Black Leader. Anyone read?”

“Poe!” Snap’s relieved voice gave Poe hope. Maybe there was a chance for them after all, if the First Order hadn’t shown up yet. “Thank goodness!”

L’ulo interrupted the transmission. “I was about a second away from flying down into that cavern and looking for you, son.”

“I’m fine, L’ulo,” Poe assured him, “Listen, all of you: we’ve been made. There was a tracker on my ship. We’re gonna have company, I think. The First Order’s probably already on its way.”

“You got that a little wrong, Poe…” Karé’s input made him frown.

“I’m not wrong, Karé. I’m looking at the tracker right now.”

“Not about the tracker. About the First Order. They aren’t on their way.” Poe’s stomach and heart sank to the soles of his boots. “They’re already here.”

Right as she said it, he heard the rumble of an explosion on the other side of the massive door that you’d barely gotten them through earlier. “Fuck…”

“You must hide,” The shaman yelled, pointing toward an old garage filled of speederbikes half-built. “Hide your ship, and then follow me.”

Poe did as he was directed, concealing his ship in the tiny hangar before he was joined by the shaman, with you and BB-8 close behind. Unable to help himself, he took your hand as you ran after her, seeking the shelter of an old alcove a level up. It honestly looked like a sewer drainage channel, but you climbed in without hesitation, having obviously seen worse places that one could hide.

Soon enough all three of you were nestled safely inside with a view of the shrine from between a crack in the stone. He didn’t realize he was still holding your hand until you tugged him slightly closer as you shifted your weight. You’d only just gotten situated there when the massive blast door was blown clean off its hinges in a surge of fire and smoke.

Trailing out of the flames was a man on a speeder, and at least a dozen stormtroopers with jetpacks. They came to land in very nearly the same place Poe had. The shaman and the soldiers surrounded the man on the speeder, and in order for you both to hear the conversation transpiring better, you flipped a switch on your helmet. As you heard it, you transferred the memories of hearing it to Poe.

“How dare you blast your way into this sacred chamber!” The shaman cried. “That door was sealed for a reason. You must leave, interloper, before your presence pollutes the sacred energies of this chamber. Do not force us to destroy you.”

The man hummed thoughtfully. “My, my. Look at all these guns.” He gestured over his shoulder, at the troopers which were on their way. “Glad I brought some, too.” The soldiers and stormtroopers were at a standoff. Meanwhile, the man casually disembarked from his ride and brushed off his Imperial uniform. “I am sorry about the door. Perhaps I should have just knocked.”

I don’t like this guy already, Poe thought, he’s a haughty smartass.

Me neither, You agreed wholeheartedly.

“But we’ll fix it, I promise. We’ll fix that door, right?”

The trooper he addressed immediately replied, “Yes, sir. Of course.”

The man took off his helmet, revealing an older, scarred man with a short, silver band of hair across his head and a tattoo on his temple. “My name is Agent Terex of the First Order. I’m very pleased to meet you all. What’s going on with that egg, by the way? That thing is just a fabulous.”

His haughty, condescending tone made you and Poe bristle with a shared contempt for the officer, and everything he stood for.

“It is our charge,” The shaman answered nervously. “We are the crèche. The egg nurtures the savior unborn, who will save us all on the day of its emergence. Why have you come here? What do you want?”

“Why, that’s simple,” Agent Terex drawled out with a cruel smirk, “Poe Dameron, of course.”

“Uh-oh,” Poe breathed.

“Oh shit,” You echoed. BB-8 whirred anxiously.

The shaman played dumb. “Poe Dameron? Who is that?”

Poe turned to Beebs. “BB-8, get in touch with Snap and the rest of Black Squadron. This could get bad. I can feel it.” His admission didn’t go unnoticed by you, who gave his hand a squeeze. “We have to try to help these people.”

Agent Terex answered the shaman’s question coldly. “He’s a pilot with the republic. Human. He usually flies a black-and-orange starfighter.”

“How could we know him?” The shaman challenged. “The crèche has been alone in this cavern for years, safeguarding the savior unborn. As you saw, the entrance was sealed.”

Terex seemed amused by the shaman, turning to whisper to the trooper nearest to him. They immediately separated to begin searching the cavern. The shaman worried her hands, eyeing them nervously. “Please— you don’t need soldiers. We are peaceful.”

“Oh, I know that now. But, you know, strange planet, big galaxy. Better safe than sorry. Don’t worry, my men won’t hurt you.” The cruel turn of his lips under his pencil-thin gray mustache only made him look more sinister. “...Unless I tell them to, of course.”

BB-8 quietly bliped at Poe, and he turned to look at his droid hopefully. “You got through to Snap, BB-8? Good. Hopefully the rest of Black Squadron can figure something out. Because I have a feeling this is about to—“

“Picked up the tracker’s signal, sir,” a trooper informed Agent Terex, “It’s a bit degraded. Looks like they tried to destroy it. But the device is hardened. Can survive just about anything. Dameron was here. He probably still is.”

“Fuck,” Poe hissed.

You looked at him, and Poe met what he expected— and partially knew— was your direct gaze. “Was the end of your sentence maybe ‘go all to hell,’ Poe? Because that’s the only place I see this going.”

Terex, haughty in this discovery, turned on the shaman. “Oh, wow. Did you hear that? Guess you guys are just a bunch of liars!” Terex turned to his men, almost seeming pleased that he gets to torture these poor people. “So, troopers. I’m not sure polite inquiry is providing the results I’m looking for. What do you say we find out what’s inside this big old egg of theirs?”

The shaman panicked. So did Poe.

He got to his feet, and felt your concern. “Poe, what are you—“

Poe pressed on your shoulders until you were sitting. You clutched at his sleeves, worry and fear coming off of you in waves that he tried not to let bother him. “Stay here.”

“I’m coming with you.”

Poe shook his head. Audible words failed him, and he found himself feeding you a flood of thoughts in rapid succession. No, miracle, baby, stay. Stay here. I’m gonna need your backup. Terex can’t see you, he’ll report directly to Ren. Do not show your face unless absolutely necessary, Jay, please, promise me.

You clung to him for a moment longer, trying to fight your own fears. “You’d better damn well be careful, Poe.”

He knew you’d stay.

Terex grew agitated. “Where’s Poe Dameron?”

Poe took one last look at you and turned to leave the pipe, rushing for the stairs; he put his hands up. “I’m here!” He shouted, catching the attention of everyone in the cavern. Thankfully, they didn’t shoot him on sight. “I’m right here.”

Terex grinned widely, snapping his fingers at a couple of troopers to come and collect him. Roughly, he was escorted to meet the agent face-to-face. “Stop torturing these poor people,” Poe snapped at once, “I’m sure we can work everything out. Don’t be hasty.”

“Oh? Why not?”

Terex’s words surprised Poe. “Excuse me?”

The agent gestured elaborately, sarcastically. Poe wanted to punch him square in the face. “You just said ‘don’t be hasty.’ I’m curious to know why you think you can tell me to do anything at all. Seems like I’ve got all the leverage here, my new friend.”

“Ah,” Poe said, in mock-realization. He could be a smartass, too, though. “Funny you should mention that.” Terex arched an eyebrow as Poe continued. “I didn’t come here alone. I’ve got a squadron up on the surface. Pretty much the best starfighter pilots in the galaxy. And just before I walked down here, I gave them an order. I asked them to get me some leverage. So, you might think you’ve got it all under control. That you’ve got the upper hand. And maybe you do… down here. But I’ll tell you this right now… you aren’t seeing the bigger picture.” Poe furrowed his brow. “Looks like we’ve got a stalemate here, pal.”

A tremor shook the very foundations of the cavern, followed by a blast of flames and fire that rolled out of the entrance above. Shit.

Terex was unfazed. “Stalemate?” He drawled out, grinning. “Oh, I don’t know about that.” He gestured to the nearby flametroopers, and Poe’s heart sank. “Gentlemen, if you please.”

“Of course, sir.” Almost immediately, they unleashed their weapons on the egg. Aside from glowing more intensely, it seemed fine for the moment, but Poe wondered just how much it— or the creature inside— could take.

Terex stepped forward, all pretenses of sarcasm and condescension wiped from his face. Standing there instead was rather a man on a mission, one which, if it involved the needless suffering of innocent and maybe squashing Poe’s face under his boot, he would be perfectly fine seeing through. “Now. You’re going to tell me everything I want to know, Dameron. That will happen in any case. The only decision you have in front of you is how quickly you tell me.”

The shaman cried, “Sing to the savior unborn! Ease its pain!” And launched the gathered tribespeople into something that sounded an awful lot like a eulogic song to Poe.

Terex scoffed at the display. “You seem to care about these fools, for some reason. If you talk now, maybe I can see about saving their savior. If not… my men will get to enjoy the galaxy’s largest omelet.” Poe met Terex’s cruel grin with a frown. “See, here’s the thing. Maybe you did pull something off up there. Perhaps… up there… you have the upper hand. But, as you said… We are down here. And I didn’t come here alone, either.”

Poe’s stomach kept dropping the longer Terex turned his own words against him. “In fact, I came here aboard the Ravenous, a Maxima-A class heavy cruiser which carries an extremely impressive complement of fighters and troops. It’s in orbit above the planet as we speak. So, I’m afraid that whatever you think you’ve accomplished… whatever leverage you think you hold… you aren’t seeing the bigger picture.”

Poe swallowed hard, a chilly sweat running down his back as he tried to swallow past the feeling of being so utterly trapped.

What do we do now, Poe?

I don’t know, miracle. I just don’t know.

“So, Poe Dameron…” Backlit by the flames of his troopers against the egg— which began to crack like glass— Terex looked absolutely vile. “Let’s talk.”

—FETT—

Alongside BB-8, you watched anxiously as the egg continued to crack, as your situation was revealed to be more and more dire. As a Mandalorian— or anyone, really— sitting up in your little perch while Poe was so exposed made you dizzy with frustration.

“What do you want, Terex?” Poe snapped.

“It’s Agent Terex, if you please,” Terex corrected smugly, “Titles matter. I am a ranking officer in the First Order Security Bureau. My job, in short, is to know things. You, of course, are Poe Dameron, pilot for the New Republic Navy, and more recently for Leia Organa’s silly Resistance. But that’s your name, not a title. Your title should be thief. Bandit. Crook. Scoundrel. You stole First Order property— data we bought and paid for— and I am here to get it back. That’s what I want.”

“We all want things, pal,” Poe snarked, “But until you tell your TIEs to call off their attack on my squadron, and ease up with the flamethrowers on that egg, we’ve got nothing to talk about. I ain’t telling you a damn thing.”

“You should be more worried about yourself, Poe,” Terex said, “After all, your colleagues are flying starfighters. I’m sure they’re just fine.” Terex locked his arms behind his back, one to think highly of himself. The chaos of the cracking egg and singing tribespeople was making your head start to spin.

“Now, you are clearly a criminal,” Terex continued, “I could arrest you and bring you up on charges in either a New Republic court or a First Order tribunal. But that would take so long, and I’m not the most patient man. In situations like this, I prefer more direct solutions. I turn up the heat, if you w—“

The egg nearly busted open completely with a beam of light, startling the stormtroopers into a ceasefire. It also made Terex stop his rambling. “Huh. How about that,” Poe said softly, “You actually can stop talking.”

Nervously, a stormtrooper began to ask for orders. “Uh… sir… should we—“

The egg cracked further. You and BB-8 balked, and the droid emitted a slew of profanities in binary as the egg’s light became so bright that you had to look away. “The savior unborn! It comes at last!” The shaman was screaming, “Our long vigil is ended— we will be redeemed!”

All went white as the egg burst with a sound like shattering glass, too brilliant to look at. You shielded BB-8 as wind and shards of shell flew everywhere, latching onto your Dyad with Poe to ensure that you knew he was safe. When it was over, you peered out of your hiding place to find an odd discovery.

Roughly twelve feet tall stood a winged, vaguely humanoid creature, fit and oddly silent for a creature its size. It shimmered with the amniotic fluid of the egg, like a butterfly just out of its cocoon, its glowing white eyes focused on the shaman as she sang its praises.

Meanwhile, BB-8 rushed out of your hiding place to join Poe. You made to follow after him, but Poe’s voice in your head made you stop immediately. Not yet.

I can’t just sit here.

If Terex sees you, Ren will know where you are.

The thought— the fear— of Ben knowing that you were with the Resistance made you stand still. If Ben knew, he’d seek you out more vivaciously. You wouldn’t be able to leave, back to your obscure little life on the fringes of the galaxy. Poe felt sympathy for you, and you heard him secondhand as he spoke into the comms to Black Squadron, “This could be our shot— if you see an opening, take it.”

The creature, with a furious shriek, swiped at the gathered and awed tribespeople. Whoa. That’s a bit anticlimactic. I thought it was supposed to be a savior?

Guess not.

“So much for saviors,” Terex scoffed, otherwise unaffected, and very much on the same mental track as the both of you— except he didn’t anticipate Poe’s next move.

Poe lunged in a punch, one which you knew was deliberately not very good. BB-8 rolled up undetected behind Terex and snatched his blaster right out of its holster as Poe kept him occupied. Terex, however, still thought very highly of himself. “Oh ho! A sucker punch, eh? Well, you aren’t the first to try it, and I suppose you won’t be the last.” Terex “effortlessly” dodged Poe’s fake attacks before grabbing his arm, twisting it, and shoving Poe down so hard into the dirt that it knocked the breath out of his lungs momentarily. “But you should know— when it comes to dirty tricks, I am absolutely filthy. You probably ought to stick to playing hero in your x… wing…” It was then he noticed that his blaster was gone.

“That wasn’t a sucker punch, Terex,” Poe huffed as he got to his feet, taking the blaster from BB-8 and whirling around to face Terex. “It was a distraction.”

All around you the chaos grew as the creature attacked, and stormtroopers attempted to defend themselves. The tribespeople had, in their terror, scattered, save for the troubled shaman.

“It’s over, Terex,” Poe shouted to be heard over the conflict. “Tell your fighters to pull back to orbit, and call off the attack down here.”

“I think you’re misreading the situation, Poe,” Terex said, “My troopers aren’t attacking. They’re defending. I’m not sure these crèche idiots had any idea what was inside that egg all this time. My troops are the only thing keeping any of us alive.”

“Why are you doing this?” The shaman wailed, on her knees; she just wasn’t getting the fact that she needed to maybe run away from it. “How have we angered you? Please— tell us where we have gone wr—“

The creature interrupted her by snatching her up and bringing her to its mouth; you lunged on instinct, nearly revealing yourself, but you didn’t have to.

Another version of the creature, this one black, lunged with a screech of vengeance from the shadows, landing a blow so strong on the blue one that it nearly knocked them both clean over. Now occupied with each other rather than the little people— and seeming much bigger than before— they fought amongst themselves.

“Whoa.” Poe’s awe mirrored your own. BB-8 whistled in astonishment. “I know, buddy. Kind of makes you think.”

Terex took Poe���s momentary lapse of focus to his advantage, lunging and trying to wrestle the blaster out of his hands. Poe was stronger, able to keep the blaster out of his reach. “Would you—fuck— would you give it up?”

“Never,” Terex replied calmly, “That is my blaster, Dameron. And once I have it back I will kill you.” He landed a horrible kick to BB-8. “And your idiot droid, too.”

The creatures grew larger, paying no mind to the harmless blows the stormtroopers landed on it as they began to grow too large for the cavern.

And Terex was still. Fucking. Talking. Even while wrestling Poe.

“You may wonder why I would kill you, as you still haven’t given me the information you stole from the First Order.”

“Mostly wondering how the fuck I can get you to shut up.”

“I’ve been trying to understand why you’re fighting so hard to protect these fools. And I think I finally see. You’re not fighting to protect them.” The creatures took flight, the wind from their wings much like a hurricane. The new addition was enough to give Terex the upper hand in the fight, even as the ceiling started to come down around them. “You’re fighting to protect something they have— something they haven’t given to you yet. That’s why you were still here when I arrived. Whatever you want, they still have it. And that means I can get it from them. And so really, Mr. Thief…” He managed to crack Poe’s arm over his knee and loosen his hold on the blaster, throwing Poe to the ground once more.

No.

The ceiling was coming down. Terex had his blaster, and had surmised that he didn’t need Poe alive. Without a second thought, you launched yourself from the nook, skipping the stairs and simply flying down, your sights set on Terex. With the Force as your guide, you were able to dodge the huge chunks of debris that fell off and thundered around you, crushing stormtroopers flat.

“I don’t need you alive at all,” Terex hummed.

Poe didn’t even bother standing up, knowing that you would save him, that he didn’t need to— you both knew he’d survive this. “Well, great. Real glad you worked all that out.”

Terex finally seemed to realize what was happening, realizing that his troops were being annihilated around him. “No!”

Your foot in the center of his back, with that momentum from your jet-powered flight, sent him sprawling with what was probably a couple cracked ribs. Your saber burst to life and hovered inches from his neck; Terex’s eyes flicked from the weapon to your helmet, something like triumph shifting in his expression. You were vaguely aware of Poe warning Black Squadron of the winged creatures headed their way. “You’re the one he’s looking for. Kylo Ren. The Mandalorian Jedi.”

Your grip tightened on your blade. “I am no Jedi.”

“Perhaps not,” Terex chuckled, “But still. You’ve thrown your lot in with the Resistance, hm? Ren will love to have that confirmed.”

BB-8 buzzed angrily and zapped Terex so hard that he knocked him out. You sheathed your saber, addressing the droid with a soft nod. “Thank you.” BB-8 warbled in assurance.

As the creatures left, silence befell the cavern. You turned to face Poe, who rushed to you, partly relieved, partly worried. “Miracle— oh, baby—“ He engulfed you in a brief tight embrace before pulling back to check you over for injuries. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“Poe I’m fine— you—“

“I’m okay,” Poe smiled when he realized you were telling the truth about your condition. “You’re okay; Black Squadron is okay. Everybody’s okay. We did it.”

He took you in his arms and held you close, awash with gratefulness that you all survived the ordeal. “We’re okay.”

—DAMERON—

It was at least an hour before everything settled.

Terex called off the attacking TIEs and gathered his surviving men, which were corralled into a group being guarded by the tribespeople. The strange black creature, victorious over the blue, was perched nearby, watching over its people. Black Squadron had landed in the cavern, now ridiculously exposed; Karé and Jess, with the help of Karé’s astromech and BB-8, checked over their starfighters for any more hidden trackers. L’ulo, Snap, and you stayed by Poe as he negotiated with the shaman, explaining everything and receiving information in return.

“And what will you do now, Dameron?” Terex called from his place as an essential prisoner, “You won’t kill me— you would have done it already. And you can’t take me prisoner. If you did, you would give the First Order clear justification to launch an attack on the New Republic.”

Poe regarded him with an arched brow and pursed lips. “...You know what, man? You’re sort of a drag.”

“The problem is easily solved,” L’ulo said quietly. “Terex can’t have many TIEs left. Once we refuel, we can fly up and take out his cruiser in orbit on our way home. Let the crèche decide what to do with him.”

“It’s no good,” Poe shook his head, hands finding his hips. “The First Order would send another ship, maybe even a star destroyer. They’d burn this whole planet looking for him.”

“So, what…” Snap looked between those present with a furrowed brow. “We just let him go?”

“Do we have much of a choice?” You said softly; even knowing that Snap and L’ulo didn’t trust you, Poe couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride that you inputted anyway.

“No,” The shaman answered, “We do not. We will let him go. He can’t hurt us anymore.” She looked in awe to the black creature, which watched her curiously. “The savior… born. It will carry us far from here, to wherever our new life will begin.”

“Can I ask you something?” Poe inquired. It was a question that had been on his mind this whole time— between moments of almost getting killed, of course.

“Of course, Poe Dameron. You fought for us. You worked to save us, when it would have been easier to save yourself. Ask me anything.”

“Well, I do have the one big question, but before that— tell me… all this time, all those generations down here— did you guys have any idea what was actually in that egg?”

The shaman regarded him with a new manner of respect. “No. But that was never the point.”

The shaman gathered her people to the creature after speaking privately with him; carefully, they all gathered upon its back, and waved goodbye as it ferried them away, to who-knows-where, leaving all they’d once been behind. It wasn’t an easy feat, and Poe admired that.

Down to business. He approached Terex with a frown. The blows he’d landed were fake, and highly unsatisfying. “Okay. Here’s how we’re gonna do this— I get out of here with my guys, and you get to stay down here for the time being. On our way out, we’ll radio your cruiser to come pick you up. Everybody goes home, and we forget this ever happened.”

“Oh, I doubt I will ever forget this happened, Poe Dameron.” Terex’s narrowed eyes were cold and unforgiving. He hated the way he glowered at him.

He didn’t let the officer’s ominous last words to him bother him, though. “Uh-huh. See you around, Agent Terex.”

It was during the launch sequence— specifically, right after take-off— that you decided to drop a bomb on him. “I can’t go with you after Lor San Tekka, Poe.”

“Wha—“

“Terex knows that I’m with you. Ren knows that I’m with you. Or rather, they think they do. Our Dyad doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, it won’t be taken into consideration when they come looking for me. They won’t expect to look for me alone. Time is ticking. We need to find Luke. I know where to go on Tatooine. Leave me there, so that I can search for Luke in the only other easily accessible place he might be while you continue your search for Lor. This way we can cover more ground, eliminate two options, and can regroup when it’s done.”

Poe hesitated.

He couldn’t disagree with the logic. He just didn’t want to acknowledge it. He (selfishly, he thought) didn’t want to be away from you— not that distance, not that long. But his wants came second to the war effort; so did yours. You both knew that. Reluctantly, Poe nodded. “Yeah. Okay, miracle. I’ll take you to Tatooine. But you’ve gotta promise me something.”

“What is it?” Your voice was soft, gentle.

“...Promise me you’ll laugh more when we get back together.” Your little chuckle made his heart jump.

“Alright, Poe. You’ve got yourself a deal.”

“And you’ll be careful,” Poe added hurriedly.

“It’s like you don’t even know who I am,” You teased.

“I do,” Poe said, “And that’s the problem.” There was a brief, comfortable silence between you, like your minds were holding hands. BB-8 regretfully interrupted with a series of little chirps. “Yeah, BB-8, she told me where Lor San Tekka went when he left this planet.” The thought of his destination made him sick to his stomach. “Looks like we’re going to prison.”

—FETT—

The two of you stood on the ridge of a dune overlooking Mos Eisley. It was truly an iconic place— for your family in general, and for the Skywalker for whom you searched.

The twin suns set on the horizon of the golden desert, sand-riddled winds whipping around you carelessly. The city and spaceport bustled below. “Landing outside of the city was a pretty good idea, miracle,” Poe hummed thoughtfully.

“Thanks,” You said softly, turning to face him. “Qui-Gon said that I probably wouldn’t find him here.”

Poe nodded solemnly. “...Yeah. I heard that. But you’ve still gotta look. It’s more efficient this way.”

You looked at him. In his dark caff eyes, you saw warmth. You saw an unwarranted kindness for a bounty hunter that he had scarcely spoken with other than passing moments until only recently. His small, questioning smile only made you more curious, more confused… An emotion came from him that you couldn’t quite place.

Hesitantly, your hand moved— almost of its own accord, as if pulled by something far more powerful than either of you— and brushed against his. As if he’d been waiting for it, Poe responded immediately, gripping your hand tightly and entwining your fingers together. The Force balanced in your surroundings, as though your chaotic emotions were put in check with his touch. Sparks and lightning raced up your arm, your left arm, the arm that ended in the link between your hands; it was aimed straight for your heart.

“Poe...” You weren’t sure what you meant by it. Whether you were reprimanding him for such actions, or if you simply needed him to verbally tell you what he was feeling. What is this? You were dying to ask, didn’t even voice aloud in your Dyad. Are we... really still just friends?

Your Mandalorian Creed bid you to be brave and merely ask him.

But your young heart only tightened your grip on his hand, too afraid of his rejection to even try.

Because all the other fears in the galaxy... you could face those, easily. You could fight them. But if you had to live a life without seeing him ever again, or then awkwardly and tense... That fear held you back. That was one you could never beat.

Poe’s eyes still somehow managed to lock with yours through the visor of your helmet, feeling your anxiety— both halves of it. He chose to comfort you about the less complicated side of it. “Don’t worry, Jay. Ren rarely does the dirty work himself. We’ll never even see his ship, more than likely.”

You heaved a sigh, trying to ease the resounding ache in your chest. “...I spent… a long time trying to pretend like he’s not out there. Like he died that day, my brother. I could always see the smoke from his fire on the horizon, a distant threat but one I could ignore so long as I kept walking. And now here we are... going towards it.”

Poe turned so that he was fully facing you, standing closer than he ever had. If it weren’t for your helmet, you might have even been in range to kiss him. His intense bronze gaze held yours with an astounding amount of confidence; there was no sign of the reckless bravado you’d come to expect of him. When he spoke again, his voice was low, almost a whisper. Your whole body tensed when his free hand came up to hold your shoulder in a gesture of reassurance. “I’m not gonna let him find you, Y/N. I promise. I’ll be back in a few days to get you. Then we can keep looking for Luke. You’re not gonna be alone.”

You stiffly nodded, but neither of you moved. Held in place by some invisible tug not unlike the Force, you both stood as if you wished to say something more. Something that would change everything between you.

But neither of you did.

Neither of you dared to cross the bridge between you, afraid of its integrity. Somehow the daughter of Boba Fett and the greatest starfighter pilot in the galaxy could not brave this threat. At least... not verbally.

You were leaning into him before you realized it, surprised when he did the same. His hand that had held your shoulder came up to rest in the crook of your neck, thumb caressing your helmet like he would your cheek. Your foreheads met and stayed there, eyes closed to savor a peaceful moment before the sunset. Automatically, you cupped his face in one hand, the one free of the tight grip you both still held; you wished you did not wear gloves, if only to feel the warmth of his skin beneath your touch.

Maybe you imagined it, heard what you wanted to, but you swore then that his breath hitched. Perhaps to anyone who may have seen, your silhouettes against the backdrop of the setting suns might have been romantic. If only you knew for sure his true feelings. You dared not use the Force to find them, even in an innocent manner: not to him.

You stood there for several minutes, lost to anything around you and absorbed only in the presence of each other. It was over in a heartbeat. Poe pulled away, perhaps a bit reluctantly. There was a deep sadness on his face, one you wished you could wipe clear and replace with a beaming smile. He turned to walk down the hill, but you didn’t miss the fact that his hand remained entwined with yours until the very last second, even letting your fingers drag across one another almost desperately, seeking some sign to stay. Neither of you could give it, scared as you were.

You felt the pair of you abandon the opposite ends of that bridge as it crumbled into the river of doubt, somewhat content to walk the banks on either side, in sight of each other, until you came to the next one.

Without his presence you felt cold, and alone, a feeling which only intensified the more steps he took down the hill away from you. You wondered if he felt the same... or if you simply imagined it with wishful thinking. You wondered, as he clambered up into the tandem x-wing alone, if he would keep his promise to come back for you, or if this would be the last you saw of him for a long time... or maybe forever. Did he even want this bond with you? Was he going to try and accept it, like you, or did he despise it? What if he didn’t? What if something happened to him?

You wanted to turn away, but you wanted to burn his image into your mind more, in case he never came back. In case you were left looking for Luke on your own. He looked back once, right before he got into the cockpit. And then he was in, the canopy was closing, and the engines were starting.

I will come back for you, miracle.

You damn well better, flyboy.

You felt him smile, and that feeling transferred a bit to you.

You watched as the x-wing flew low overhead, departing with your heart stored in the pockets of its pilot. The deafening roar of its power did little to you, only an imprint of Poe having been near you. You stood on the hill and watched the x-wing’s silhouette against the enormous suns, which hung in the sky before him like two great gates of fate and fire. “...I love you,” You said into the empty air before you, now silent, as your eyes, locked on the shrinking x-wing, shed a few tears you couldn’t stifle.

—DAMERON—

If only you knew that Poe Dameron, from within the confines of his cockpit, wrestled with his own confused emotions. That he too whispered three words to himself in the hopes that the universe would acknowledge it, so that maybe he could, too. That he too had tried to fight the fear of rejection, had taken the first few steps across the bridge before turning back.

He wanted to turn back. To land his x-wing and embrace you again. Tatooine became smaller and smaller behind him, and as he punched in the coordinates for lightspeed, one thought above all made the clenching ache in his chest only worse: I should’ve kissed her. I should’ve told her. But what if she doesn’t want this Dyad? What if she thinks I’m taking advantage of her? What if I am taking advantage of her?

He promised you he’d return, and he fully intended to. But he could very well be killed on Megalox Beta, and you’d never know how strongly he felt for you. He hesitated before launching into lightspeed, eyes lingering on the planet upon which stood the young Mandalorian woman who had his full heart and soul stored somewhere in her intricate armor. “I’ll come back for you. I promise.” He felt a hum. Even from this distance, you heard him.

His ship shot into the blue tunnel of lightspeed, pulling him farther and farther away from you until there would be whole vast distances of space between you. But it didn’t matter, not to either of you. You’d find each other again, admittance to feelings or not, regardless of whatever time or space separated you.

Poe kept your laugh in his mind as he flew, and it made him smile.

————————————————————————

This is probably the single longest fic I’ve ever written at just over 30k— thank you all so much for reading it!

Tags: @poeticsorcery @dameronsknight @simonsbluee @seninjakitey @ahookedheroespureheart @stevengrantsrealgf @bluestuesday @magnet-girl @dweeb-central @auszimbo @izbelross @djarinsgirl27 @sokoviansorceress @eerievixen @upbeat-cascade @stark-kirk-rogers-grant-blog @stepasidefilth @missdragon-1 @rmoonstoner @oscarisaacsspit @hopefulfangirl24 @bit-dodgy-innit @marc-spectorr @lovely-cryptid @johnny-simpfinger @drwhofangirl1963 @harrys-tittie @infinitelyforgotten @300nightmare003 @pascallllllll1 @knopewyattworld @weliketomoveit @soullesstaco @megzdoodle @graciexmarvel @sunfairyy @darth-vaders-bitch @paintballkid711 @thedudefromdownunder @howlerwolfmax @sofiapadilla28 @ghostwriteser @shirukitsune @cravevhs @kaqua @heylosers06 @sydmochi7 @daawnsutopia @no-dont-be-suspicious @hot-mess-express1 @mymentalbreakdownsblog @a-rose-of-amber

[stormkobra-5]

Family: The House of Fett Poster

This is my family. I found it, all on my own. It's little, and it's broken, but still good. Yeah, still good.

--Lilo and Stitch

Series Masterlist here

Tags: @poeticsorcery @dameronsknight @simonsbluee @seninjakitey @ahookedheroespureheart @adamcarlsenslvr @bluestuesday @magnet-girl @dweeb-central @auszimbo @izbelross @djarinsgirl27 @sokoviansorceress @eerievixen @upbeat-cascade @stark-kirk-rogers-grant-blog @stepasidefilth @missdragon-1 @rmoonstoner @300nightmare003 @pascallllllll1 @knopewyattworld @weliketomoveit @soullesstaco @megzdoodle @graciexmarvel @sunfairyy @darth-vaders-bitch @paintballkid711 @thedudefromdownunder @howlerwolfmax @sofiapadilla28 @ghostwriteser @shirukitsune @cravevhs @kaqua @marc-spectorr @lovely-cryptid

[stormkobra-5]

The House of Fett

Pairing: Poe Dameron x ForceUser!Mando!Reader

Chapter No.: 2/28

[Part 1]

[Series Masterlist]

Summary: You're Y/N Janghis Fett, the only daughter of the infamous bounty hunter himself. When you were eight years old, you discovered quite by accident that you were Force-sensitive, and so your father Boba sought out the Jedi Knight Luke Skywalker, who would, for the next eight years of your life, be your mentor in the ways of the Force-- but you are no Jedi. You are a Mandalorian, even if you do happen to wield lightsabers. However, when the Sith Lord Kylo Ren-- whom you once knew as Ben-- begins to seek out your old mentor for terrible purposes, you're met with the familiar face of Poe Dameron, who is requesting your aid, and you agree to help him only once. But when Luke is not where you think, sending you and Poe on a galaxy-wide hunt for your elusive mentor, you're forced to work with him even longer than you had originally planned. This complicates things greatly, because you've been helplessly in love with him since the day you met him, and unrequited love is a painful thing indeed.

A/N: Green lightsaber breaks indicate the following is from the Reader’s perspective. X-wing breaks indicate that the following is from Poe’s perspective.

Rating/Warnings: 18+, canon typical violence and gore, mutual pining, this whole chapter is basically just Poe and reader pining over each other, idiots starting to fall in love, BB being an excellent little wingman, mention of sex/one-night stands, depictions of fear/trauma

For several seconds, you stared at Poe Dameron wordlessly. This wasn’t a very difficult decision for you— Luke Skywalker was like a second father to you. Of course you would help Poe find him. But a small grain of reluctance had settled itself in your heart and refused to be moved from where it had embedded itself in the tender muscle. You heaved a sigh, debating on whether or not to release Poe’s hand so that perhaps you could better think. As if sensing it, he moved back awkwardly, as though he’d realized that he’d reached for you so eagerly. You were surprised when your hand felt... empty.

You pulled your hand back, to the safety of your lap. You didn’t let him see you clench it almost desperately, trying to savor the warmth of his touch. You did not need it, he did not want it. It was as simple as that. So why did it hurt so much?

You slowly nodded, recognizing visible relief on Poe’s face as he leaned back in his seat. “You know what Luke means to me. Of course I’ll help you find him.”

Poe’s lips twitched, and he frowned to stifle a beaming grin; it didn’t work very well. He echoed your nod, but his was filled of approval rather than apprehension. "Good. Then we've got a chance of finding him before Ren does."

"I have conditions," You specified, noting with vague amusement his heavy sigh and brief closing of his eyes.

"Of course you do..."

"I'm not Resistance," You pointed out, although that fact was already painfully obvious. "I'm coming with you to help Luke. Not your cause. I want nothing to do with the fate of the galaxy. I'm just fine as I am, doing my job."

Poe leaned forward on his elbows, lips slightly pursed and his sharp eyes boring flaming holes through your helmet's visor. "Sure. But how expensive is fuel nowadays? Ship maintenance? Hell, do you even have a ship, or do you just charter one everywhere?"

Your breathy chuckle got caught in a snort of mild amusement. Almost every time you'd met him since you turned sixteen, he was always trying to recruit you. Always trying to convince you that the Resistance could use the aid of a Mandalorian. The galaxy's fate was too big for you. You preferred the relatively simple life of a bounty hunter... the life that did not involve someone unknowingly trampeling your heart every day. So, ignoring Poe's prodding, you carried on. "I want nothing in return except the promise of Luke Skywalker's safety."

Still, Poe inputted when he felt necessary, which was too often. "Yeah, but, we're gonna give you fuel. We wouldn't leave you on fumes. Besides, Boba would kill us if we didn't."

"And once you have him..." Once again-- far too many times had this happened-- his eyes met yours, and this time, you averted your gaze to avoid the intensity of those caf-brown orbs. You felt if he looked at you too long, he would see into your very soul. "Don't come looking for me again, Dameron, not unless you want to see me for me." Briefly, you flicked a glance in his direction and caught a thoughtful frown on his handsome features, eyes fixed on an uneven grain of the table he was fiddling with, before he looked back at you without moving his head other than to nod. "There are plenty of other bounty hunters in the galaxy. Ones that wouldn't mind-- or particularly care-- that the fate of the galaxy rests in part with them, so long as they're paid good."

"I know," He wiped his palm across the table to be rid of the nefarious splinters. "I won't come to you again unless I'm bringing you one big-ass birthday cake, you have my word."

"When do we leave?" You questioned, straight to business. The less you had to remain near Poe, the better. The sooner you got this over with, the sooner you could return to your normal life-- although there was a sheer difference between living and surviving. Though you had been many places and seen many things, you were oftentimes swamped with the urge to do more. You feared that working with the Resistance might present that opportunity. Would you be able to deal with being on the same base as Poe all the time, knowing that he wasn't yours? Knowing the pain you would suffer each day with him just out of reach? You were not certain. Mandalorians were taught to endure pain, but needlessly? You were doing just fine for yourself so far.

Poe braced his hands on the table and stood immediately. "Right now. I've got an old T-65 x-wing parked on a dock nearby. I'll meet you up in orbit?"

"Of course." You could not afford to make any long stops, not with Luke in danger. You would have to drop your quarry of bounties off at a fence before departure, and pray that the transaction passed through smoothly. Perhaps the natural fear of a Mandalorian hunter having this quarry shipped, and the wrath that befall any poor soul who messed it up, would urge it to be completed properly.

You waited until Poe left the cantina. He glanced back once, and you wonder if he could sense your eyes on him even if you kept your head facing forward. Even after he was out of sight, you sat there and counted slowly, meaningfully, to thirty, and only then did you leave the cantina yourself. A quick glance in either direction saw Poe walking opposite from you down the street, headed for the port. You took an alternate route of back alleys and rooftops, a quick run of parkour skills that had you there in a quarter of the time it would take Poe-- and you even gave him a headstart.

Perhaps it was childish of you, wanting to show off your skills to him like this. But a part of you was trying to show him that you're no longer a child, that you were now a grown woman. You weren't particularly sure why you had to try so hard not to care. 

Your ship, the mighty and ancient Slave I, sat on the old tarmac like a diamond in the rough. Old battered ships hunkered around it, clogging the landing pad and prompting rough and crude language exchanged between parties attempting to depart as wings were clipped and hulls scraped. But your Slave, no one went near. No one dared. Three generations of legends were symbolized by that ship, by the distinctive worn paint and the signet once borne by Jaster Mereel himself, Jango's adoptive father and a Manda'lor. None dared to come close to such a legend for fear of becoming a rumored victim of its presence.

Brweep beeep, came a familiar droid's audio, and you looked down to find BB-8. Poe's droid. More like his son, you scoff inwardly to yourself. "Hello, Beebs." The droid emitted a couple more sounds of question, and you leaned down to give him a scratch on his round body. "I'm glad to see you too, buddy. Dameron is on his way." BB-8 chirped curiously, making you chuckle. "Yeah, he's a little slow today, isn't he?" BB-8 whirled in mimicry of human laughter, a metallic shrill whine. In all your meetings with Poe– which were few nowadays– BB-8 had never been far from Poe’s side. You could tolerate the droid’s presence more than you could that of his “father,” although his constant beeping about his beloved master tugged at your heartstrings. You wished for the life of you that you would be brave enough to approach Poe. Maybe if he rejected you outright, your heart would break and then recover, able to move on.

More to yourself, you shook your head. That was one thing in the galaxy you couldn’t bear the thought of at all. You would probably never work up the courage to tell Poe how you felt towards him. With a heavy sigh, you patted Beebs on the head. “See ya later, buddy.” Beebs bwirped in response, turning to roll back to wherever he’d come from. You went in the opposite direction, toward your beloved Slave. 

The fence was already there waiting for you, as so many fences often did when they recognized your ship. They did, after all, get a share of the bounties, and with a Fett, it was guaranteed to be a grand sum of credits. You arranged for the shipment of the bound or carbonite-frozen prisoners, pulling them off your ship so that they could be properly delivered. You didn’t wait for Poe to arrive, firing up the Slave and soaring out into space.

Here and there commercial trade ships, transports, and cruisers sailed back and forth in the vast expanse of blackness, interrupted only by a blinding nebulae looming large but distant, shining orange and soft pinks. You admired it as you waited for Poe, half-dozing in the bantha-leather cockpit seat. You jumped a little when the comm beeped, signaling someone attempting to hail you. You flicked it on. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, actually, you can. Kinda gotta give me the coordinates to where we’re goin’, miracle.” You scoffed under your breath at the sound of Poe’s casual tone, punching a few buttons to send him the location information. There was a pause on the other end, before he responded in astonishment. “...The old Jedi Academy?”

“There’s only two places in this galaxy that Luke could be,” You informed him. “He told me that if I ever needed him, I’d know where to find him.”

“So what’s the other one?” 

“His old home on Tattooine.”

You heard Poe snort with amusement. “Not exactly subtle, is it?” 

“He’s a Skywalker, isn’t he? They never are.”

“I’m gonna buzz you now,” Poe said, and at first you were confused as to what he meant– until the whole Slave shuddered as Poe’s black-and-orange T-70 x-wing shot by you so fast it was barely a blur. 

“Dammit, Dameron,” You hissed, punching a few buttons to start after him.

Poe chuckled on the other end of the com. “Ready? I’m gonna pull you into lightspeed with me. We’ll travel together.”

You furrowed your brow, frowning beneath your helmet. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just go separately?” 

“Easier? Yes.” He agreed as you pulled up close to his relatively smaller x-wing. “Less boring? No. You really wanna spend six and a half hours in hyperspace without talking to me? It’s gonna get real boring.”

His words struck you as funny for some reason. “And you wanna spend six and a half hours in hyperspace just… talking?”

“Think of it as a way of getting to know you,” Poe countered, and your heart skipped a beat almost painfully. “I mean, let’s play twenty questions.”

“Why?” You were genuinely confused. Conversations between the two of you had always been limited to casual. Never had they traversed into anything personal. Poe hesitated as your ships launched into the searingly-bright blue tunnels of lightspeed. 

“...You remember that night I came to you?” Poe asked, sounding a little bashful, which was a first for him. “When I was injured?”

You remembered. Very well. You were only seventeen, but he’d come to you. “I didn’t know where else to go,” he’d said. Boba wasn’t at your shared home, allowing you to lay Poe on your father’s unused bed. You nursed him through a fever, tended to his wounds, and when he’d desperately grabbed your arm and asked you to stay, it was the first time your gazes had met through your helmet. “I remember.” It was a struggle to keep your voice even over the coms.

“You’ve done a lot for me. You fixed my mother’s irreparable a-wing, and you saved my life. And I don’t even know what your favorite color is. Don’t say it’s green, or I swear to the Maker–”

You interrupted him with a small laugh that made him shut up abruptly. You said, “I appreciate the effort, Dameron… My favorite color is [f/c].” 

You could hear the smile in Poe’s voice when he next spoke. “See, there we go. You’re a Mandalorian, you’re twenty years old, and your favorite color is [f/c]. I’m learning a lot about you today.” He paused. “Yeah, Beebs, you’re right. You’ve gotta take a turn now, Jay.”

“Okay,” Your heart ached, contradicting the smile on your face. Why can’t I just tell him? Tell him that I love him? But you immediately realize that if he rejected you, then you’d spend a life without Poe, even this little bit of his presence that you had now. You at least needed him as a friend, if nothing else. “What’s your favorite color, flyboy?”

“Orange,” He answered immediately. “And not like… the orange I’m wearing. Like a golden-orange. Like a sunset, or sunrise. That kinda orange.”

“Not bad,” You nodded, leaning back in your seat with your arms crossed.

“Favorite flower?” Poe prodded lightly.

“[f/f],” You answered, fighting back a giggle. “You?”

Poe was silent for a second, but then you heard him hum thoughtfully. “Those purplish-blue ones? They’re kinda shaped like a tube and their flowers look like stars?”

You answered that question a little too quickly, for a Mandalorian warrior. Poe didn’t make any comment on it, though. “Hyacinth?”

“Yeah, those. They were my mom’s favorite.” Your face bursts into a beaming grin at that. He’s so tough, and yet, so sweet. He’s chaotically reckless but determined and quite possibly the sweetest man you’ve ever met. And he’s not yours. He’ll never be yours. The chiding voice in the back of your head makes your smile fade a bit, but you still heard his next question. “Favorite hobby?”

You thought about that for a minute, before finally answering him with what you liked to do most in your downtime, when you had it. “Sleep.”

Poe’s abrupt, sudden burst of laughter had you suppressing a fit of contagious giggles. You bit your lip and tried desperately to keep from making any sounds. You weren’t quite as stoic as you pretended to be, not nearly as much so as Din or Boba. They always told you it was because you were still young. But Poe didn’t need to know that you were like a Tattooine beetle, bearing only a shiny shell that disguised a soft and vulnerable interior. “Well, there’s something we’ve got in common, miracle. I like sleeping, too.”

You could feel him smiling again. It was a warm, fuzzy feeling. It was like the Force allowed you a clear image of his helmeted face, turning to beam at the silhouette of the Slave against the backdrop of white-blue streaming by, as if he could actually see you. You found yourself returning the imaginary gesture, barely spotting movement through his canopy.

It became a lot more than twenty questions. It was a six-and-a-half hour conversation, intimate and comfortable in a way you’d never conversed with anyone but your father and… and Ben, when he was around. It felt good, sharing your little bits of personal life with Poe; you were flattered that he chose to do the same with you. You discussed feelings, too, which was new for you. Poe vented about the First Order and how the New Republic refused to see the growing threat. You, in return, commented and inputted, asked questions. He did the same when you talked about how hard it’s getting to find a decent seller of fuel, or a shop that would sell parts for your ship. No one in the galaxy dared to touch it, too fearful of the Fury of the Fetts befalling them.

“It’s flattering, but I’d just like to take a break sometimes, y’know? Let somebody else worry about the nuts and bolts for once.”

“Looks like we’re both famous,” Poe scoffed, “I rarely take Black One out nowadays because everybody recognizes it, and I’m wanted by the First Order for– you can’t see me, but I’m using air quotations– ‘war crimes.’”

You snorted. “So why’d you bring it out to me?”

“I wanted to show it off to my badass Mandalorian friend and get her opinion on it,” Poe replied immediately, and you heard a hint of laughter there. “Well? How’s it look?” 

A laugh escaped you as you saw his x-wing swivel in a manner that could almost be interpreted as suggestive. “Lookin’ great, Dameron.”

“You’re not too bad yourself, Fett,” He responded, and you felt your heart give a slight flutter of excitement at his words. If only his words meant something more than just two pilots admiring one another’s starcraft. 

“Thanks, Poe,” You manage, to which he replied with a mumble you couldn’t make out. You wondered if he even heard you.

And then the conversation continued. By the time you reached Tython, you and Poe had shamelessly and effortlessly spilled your hearts out to each other. There were only two things that weren’t touched on: Ben’s turn to the Dark Side, which you were grateful for him refraining to mention, and you didn’t dare even hint on your feelings for Poe– although if it was possible, you loved him even more now. How could he tell you everything he did? He’d never even told Leia that he’d been with the Spice Runners of Kijimi. He’d never much elaborated on anyone about his feelings when he and Rapier Squadron intercepted key First Order intel, the intel that had led him to you. As far as you know, he’s rarely confided in any person. He keeps his thoughts between him and his droid, too worried about causing worry. If the commander worries, how will the soldiers feel? He shoulders his burdens with a heart of gold and a beaming smile that snatched your breath away. He’s the definition of the Light Side. He has to be. Bending around him is the Living Force, imbuing him with a sense of life even you don’t feel. 

It’s only when you’ve begun to enter Tython’s atmosphere that you realized something else he’s taken on, all by himself. “Don’t worry,” He says, “I’m sure the First Order won’t find us immediately. But we’ve gotta work quick, because if you know where Luke might be…”

“So does Ren,” You finish for him, and there’s brief silence on the com.

“...I was trying to keep your mind off of it for as long as possible, Jay. You don’t need to worry.” His voice– so heartfelt, so concerned– made you nearly want to cry, maybe a little. He was there that day. The day Luke took you to Leia while you waited for Boba. The day you broke down at the loss of your brother, Ben, of his grotesque transformation into a Sith Lord that ended with the slaughter of all those innocent apprentices. I should have been there, you tell yourself, almost every day, maybe if I had been there then he’d have fought the Darkness a little harder. Maybe I could have pulled him away from it. Instead, you were hiding from hurt feelings. The scar on your leg from Ben’s saber still burned sometimes if you remembered it for too long. You pushed the memories away, focusing on the fact that Poe Dameron was trying to protect you from that. Just like he had when he’d held you that day, when you’d burst into sobs and collapsed into his arms, terrified that Ben would come to finish you off out of anger and grieving for what he had become. “It’s okay, miracle. I’ve got you. I’m not gonna let him hurt you, I promise.”

“Still livin’ up to that promise, Dameron?” You hoped your voice didn’t betray how deeply his concern for you really hit.

“I’m a man of my word, Y/N. I told you I’d keep you safe from Ren. And I will.” Poe’s voice was steady. It betrayed no sign of his emotions. 

Little did you know how terrified for you he truly was.

“Ow. Ow. Ow.” Poe complained with every few inches he moved out of Black One’s cockpit, nearly falling out of the starfighter when pins and needles relentlessly assaulted his numb legs. Somehow, Y/N had already gotten the Slave down and was waiting for him on the ground below, arms crossed. 

“Getting old, Dameron?” You mocked, a sneer to your radio-filtered voice. He could almost see your smug expression through your sharply-angled jade helmet.

“Fuck off,” Poe grumbled as he hung over the edge of the cockpit. Some irrational part of him was concerned that the canopy might fall and sever him in half. Some greatest pilot in the Resistance he’d be then. The blood finally stopped rushing to his legs, allowing him to move. He was on the ground next to you in a heartbeat, bidding you silently with a gesture to wait until the canopy was closed and BB-8 was rolling toward you both with a couple of beeps and whirs. 

Reluctantly, Poe turned to face you with a deep breath, hands on his hips. He hated putting you through this. Reliving the memories of the day you’d lost your closest friend. You weren’t on Tython when Ben snapped. You were on Yavin IV, seeking solace with the Force Tree. That didn’t mean you had to see the aged devastation of Kylo Ren’s rampage, the remains of the Jedi Academy you had grown up in. You didn’t deserve it. You deserved to be living a life without the fear of the one who was once your brother tracking you down.

“You must find her, Poe,” Leia had told him. Funny, really, because once he knew what Ren was after, he knew the Sith Lord was also coming for you before Leia even mentioned it. “If he’s looking for Luke, he’s looking for Y/N.”

Poe had come to you for you to help find Luke, yes– but he hadn’t been entirely honest with you. He’d also come here for you. Boba had told him not to say anything. “She’s a Force-wielding Mandalorian,” He’d said, “She likely believes that no one is capable of protecting her but herself, and she’s too stubborn for backup. If you are to watch her back, you must do it under the pretense of another mission. Let her know nothing of the fact that she is also your priority.”

He hated lying to you. The six-and-a-half hour talk had let him get to know you better, and despite your tough persona, you’re a sweet, kind young woman that had grown up from the little girl who’d fixed his mother’s a-wing. He hadn’t seen your face since you got your armor, but he just couldn’t picture the face of the teenager he’d set eyes on then. You were like a blank slate now, your only features the sharp angles of your visor and the pseudo-cheekbones of your soft green helmet. He didn’t realize he was watching you until BB-8 beeped curiously at him, asking him what was wrong. “Hm? Nothin’, buddy.”

Why was he watching you? It’s not like he’s never seen a Mandalorian before. Maybe it’s because you look like a female combination of Din and Boba, bearing an arsenal of both of their weapons, your father’s ship, and Din’s cape. It’s no longer like a child wearing their parents’ clothing; you’ve grown into your legacy, shaped it to fit you in a way that was particular to you. Despite the ruins of the Jedi Academy waiting for you, you walked ahead with a sure and steady pace, confident in each movement and bearing a silent kind of grace that only a Mandalorian could have. Even your cape hardly made any noise as it was whipped around by the winds. 

Poe was admiring you.

He yanked his gaze away again, focusing on the ground beneath his feet as they entered a line of trees. The forest was overgrown and thick, and even though you followed the old trail, it was a mess of dead leaves and roots that threatened to trip you. He was a little jealous– you walked with ease, stepping over and avoiding obstacles gracefully. Poe kept banging up his feet through his boots on various rocks and roots, and he wasn’t sure if it was because he’s just clumsy or because, dammit, he couldn’t stop looking at you.

BB-8 gave a quiet whir of question which Poe elected to ignore. Instead, he spoke softly to you. “Do we have to go all the way? Can’t you just… sense Luke, if he’s here?”

You shook your head, smooth and evenly. He wondered if you had one shakeable bone in your body, or if you were really just that calculated in all your movements. His own felt jerky and clumsy in comparison. “If Luke is here, then he knows just as well as we do that Kylo Ren could come for him. He probably expected it from day one. It’s more than likely that he’s been cutting himself off from the Force, and so it will take longer to reach him. In order to do so, I need to be within the Academy’s walls. The Force is more focused there; that’s why it was built on that hill.”

Poe made an ‘o’ face in realization. “So, it’s like boosting the signal.”

“Exactly,” You replied, and then continued on. Hell, even your footfalls were unnervingly silent for somebody decked out in a full set of beskar armor. It was like the leaves and sticks braced themselves to hold your weight without crunching or snapping. BB-8 nudged him in the leg when Poe didn’t move to follow you immediately, breaking him from whatever kind of trance he was in. Poe nearly tripped in trying to catch up with you, making you glance back. “How long has it been since you’ve stepped foot in a forest, Dameron?”

“Around fifteen minutes,” He quipped, and you actually halted to turn and look at him, unamused. He couldn’t help but return her stare with a smug grin, arching an eyebrow. “What?”

“You’re impossible,” She said, shaking her head as she turned to continue down the path; but there was a smile in her voice, one Poe found himself wishing she’d let him see. BB-8 gave another little bwirp of question, but it could be roughly translated to something along the lines of hm… Poe shot him a look that could also be roughly translated, to shut up. 

Then, you tripped, and he knew something was up. Mandalorians– as you had demonstrated numerous times thus far– do not trip. They don’t even gracefully stub their toes. So the fact that you tripped– and then turned to glare accusingly at the ground– made him immediately stop. “What is it?” You bent over, grabbing a piece of metal out from underneath of the dead leaves; except, it wasn’t metal at all.

It was a standard-issue First Order com, broken and trampled, but still evidence of First Order activity in the area. Poe drew his blaster from its holster. “They beat us to him.”

“If Luke were captured, we would know it,” You said, your voice eerily calm. “Ren would want it to be as public of an execution as possible. The whole galaxy would know that Luke Skywalker had fallen.” With expert precision, you began to loosen up your arsenal of weapons built into your armor. Whistling birds, flamethrower, rocket launchers, all were cocked, primed, and ready for action at a moment’s notice. 

Poe felt considerably less badass, having only to prepare his blaster. He didn’t necessarily mind it; but he knew he might become a burden if you were practically invincible. You didn’t even need weapons actually in your hands yet, which was particularly badass and bold move– badass that you didn’t need to, bold of you to assume you could draw your blasters quickly enough. Or, he noted as his eyes found the silver twin hilts on either side of your hips, your lightsabers. Would they just fly into your hands? How quickly could you draw them? Personally, he’d never seen you use your lightsabers. He’s only seen them hanging from your belt. He didn’t even know what color they were. Probably green, he thought, understanding that that color was your general aesthetic. He wondered why you didn’t just adopt a new color, like Boba had from Jango.

BB-8 lightly bumped into his leg with a quiet beep that had Poe reeling around to hush him, whispering frantically, “I was not looking at her ass, Beebs!” He thought over the last several minutes to confirm that, no, he definitely was not looking at your ass. It wasn’t his fault it was positioned between your lightsabers, which he’d been admiring. It wasn’t his fault he was given a perfect view because you had your cape hung over the top of your jetpack so that it hung down only on one side. He was looking at your lightsabers. Not your ass. Definitely not your ass. Nooooope, not this pilot. 

You stopped again, prompting him to stop and all thoughts of definitely-not-looking-at-your-ass flying out of his head abruptly. “What is it?” For yet another time today, he was confused and left looking incompetent in the eyes of a Mandalorian bounty hunter. He’d have to remedy that. Maybe if it came to a fight he’d try some of those parkour moves he’d been learning. 

He watched as you reached up and pressed a button on your helmet, scanning the ground with a slow, almost predatory movement. After a moment, you shook your head and pressed the button again. “The tracks here are old. Definitely stormtroopers. Standard-issue First Order tread. They must’ve been here a couple days ago, at the least.”

Poe was impressed. Very impressed. And a little jealous. Whenever he met you, you always seemed to know more than him. Fixing his mother’s a-wing. Patching him up. And now you’re actually working together, for the first time, and you still know more than him. Hell, you know the name of his mother’s favorite flower when he just called it the “blue tube flowers.” He was very, very impressed. 

Unfortunately, he was staring.

Again.

And you caught him. “...What?”

Poe fought panic. He almost said “I wasn’t looking at your ass, I swear,” but caught himself just in time. “Nothing. You’re just badass.”

You snorted, amused, as you stood. “Why thank you, Dameron. You’re pretty badass too.”

Poe’s heart did some kind of weird jumpy-thing he wasn’t used to. It was like it just stopped for a second, like when you’d called Black One good-looking and he at first mistook it for you calling him good-looking. It was like a headrush in his chest. It felt weird. It made the blood rush to his face and his smile falter. He suddenly felt extremely clumsy. And clammy? Was he also clammy? “Thanks, Jay.” It sounded sarcastic, but he meant it sincerely. 

It was then you exited the forest, cresting a ridge that once overlooked the stone huts of the Jedi Academy.

Neither he nor you had been here since Ben’s turn and slaughter. The sudden image of such needless devastation made Poe sick to his stomach.

After all these years, the forests had attempted to reclaim the crumbled, charred bricks of the structures. Burnt frames stuck out of half-destroyed buildings. Stone was hurled everywhere as if something had exploded within the buildings themselves. One was crushed inward. And then, it had all been set ablaze– so Leia had said Luke informed her. Poe saw the evidence in the blackened structures, hardly the skeletal remains of the Academy. He could faintly hear the screams of dying innocents, he swore it, as if the complex was full of ghosts. And you… he couldn’t imagine how you must feel. 

This had been your home. This was where you’d lived, you’d slept, you’d learned. This was where Luke had given you your lightsabers. It was where you bonded with Ben Solo, who ultimately betrayed everyone and everything he knew for the Dark Side. 

“...Y/N…” He said, softly, scared his voice might trigger a reaction. A punch to the face, breaking down in sobs, he wasn’t sure which was more frightening. If you did either one, he wasn’t sure what he could do to comfort you. What happened was almost worse.

Your head tilted, as if you turned your gaze to the overgrown grass filled with buzzing insects rather than the most major destruction of the Academy. And then you were silent for several moments. Poe wanted to speak, but was scared of the consequences if he did. He didn’t want to throw you into any kind of bad reaction. You needed time. You needed comfort. And so he’d stand here for as long as it took. BB-8 whirred with remorse, leaning against your leg. The droid’s contact against your leg made you jump, hands snapping to your sabers on instinct. You relaxed almost immediately when you saw that it was just BB, and Poe quickly put his arms down from where he was prepared to hold you back before you could see. “You okay, miracle?”

You dodged his question, answering him without the words. “Let’s just find Luke. I want to be done here, quickly.” Your voice– cool, calm, and collected– barely disguised the crack or waver Poe seemed keenly attuned to. He didn’t mention it. He admittedly knew much more about you than he had when he’d first recruited you for this mission, but he also knew Mandalorians. Din, Boba, you, you all had something in common. Emotions worn on your sleeve were a weakness. Din and Boba were far older and more experienced in disguising how they truly felt, therefore viewed as impassive and unshakable. You, only twenty, weren’t quite there yet, but nearly. Poe wasn’t going to undermine your confidence or standing by asking anything else. Being there for you is all he could do, and so he would.

“You wanna split up, see if we can find–”

“Splitting up would be inefficient,” You interrupted, steadily, and Poe immediately shut up. “If Luke is hiding, he will not be found by normal means. If we want to find him, we must use the Force… But disturbing the Force here could alert other Force-wielders to our presence.”

Poe’s face fell. His heart fell. If he could have fallen into the earth from the gravity of that statement, he would have. He tried not to show it. His expression faltered briefly before returning to its resting state, although his eyebrow twitched up in annoyance. He gave a shrug of acceptance. “Oh, well. Figured that was coming.”

You started forward, and Poe followed, ensuring with a sideways glance that BB-8 was close behind. “We’ve gotta find the central chamber of the main building. There’s a shrine there that could amplify my abilities.”. If he’s here, Luke will sense that I’m using it.” 

Together, they both picked their way through the overgrown grasses and rubble. Poe followed a combination of you and his instincts, guessing where the central chamber would have been based on the remains of the structures. Eventually, the grass thinned out a bit, replaced with the ruined cobblestones of what may have once been the entryway, or a path between buildings. Even though to him it was ruined beyond recognition, you seemed to know exactly where you were going… although if it were memory or the guidance of the Force, he couldn’t be sure.

The shrine– an altar decorated in ancient Jedi markings, surrounded by six pillars of stone infused with veins of kyber– was exactly where you’d said it would be. The central chamber only had half of a burnt wall left standing, but the altar was untouched, as if the fire had skirted around it. Poe chalked it up to one of the weirdest experiences he’d ever seen. Rubble skittered nearby, and Poe snapped his blaster up in preparation to fire.

You were quicker. 

You whipped around with lightning fast reflexes, sabers bursting to life with a crackle of unstable plasma. One, you held vertically in front of you, and the other behind, in a reverse grip– he remembered how earlier you’d told him that Luke had taught you Jar’Kai, the very same style which Ahsoka Tano had used, although he hadn’t recognized much of the difference between them; he’d never seen a lightsaber battle, after all. Now, though, he saw the similarity in your stance to those of the stained glass images of the Togruta warrior he’d seen in Jedi Temples, the few times he’d been in them over the course of his life. You were ready for battle, the sabers illuminating your armor in an almost cinematic way– emerald glowed against your jade armor, giving it a darker sheen and dramatic shadows, especially against the backdrop of bleak destruction and stormy gray skies. 

The skittering was only a rat, running away from where it had been disturbed by the presence of humans. Poe slowly lowered his blaster, turning his head to look at you, who was still frozen in that position. “...Miracle,” He said, softly, scared he might lose a hand if he reached out to touch you. You’re scared, you’re revisiting some troubled memories, and you’re on edge– he wished he could take it from you. He wished he could be hunted by Ren in your place, if only to give you some peace. After several moments more, your blades finally retracted into their sheaths with a whisper of energy. SHHHHHK. The ensuing silence was deafening, though it was quickly broken by the insects returning to their chirping and buzzing. Your stance shifted, returning to normal as you hooked the lightsabers back to your belt.

Poe heard you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “We should make camp. If Luke’s here, he might be closing off the Force entirely. If he sees a campfire, he might come to investigate.”

Poe only nodded before going to get some firewood, a dull ache in his chest. She doesn’t deserve this, he kept thinking, over and over. She doesn’t deserve to relive this. She’s terrified. And frankly? So was he. Ren would come as soon as he sensed you. He could be here in minutes, depending on where he’s at in the galaxy. He wouldn’t be able to protect you– oh he’d sure as hell defend you with his life, but Ren was powerful. Very powerful. He could easily dispose of him and take you to wherever it was he intended to execute you, just like that. And if Poe survived? He couldn’t imagine continuing with his duties as if you were one of hundreds of Resistance members that had been captured; not you. It was… different. The only thing he could imagine doing if you got captured was scour the galaxy for you until he found you. He wasn’t sure why.

He didn’t want to leave you alone for very long, so with whispered orders to BB-8 to remain with you, he began scouring the surroundings for firewood.

It wasn’t so much the idea of being here that was bothering you– it hardly looked like the Jedi Academy anymore. Personal belongings and bodily remains were long gone, the buildings destroyed and overgrown, and the fire had ruined any kind of identifying markings. It looked nothing like the home you’d grown up in, so it was easy to pretend that it wasn’t. 

It was the lingering threat that scared you.

Kylo Ren could be anywhere. Would he kill you on sight? Capture you, and torture you over time? Execute you publicly? The Dark Side somehow twisted him to believe that Luke, Han, Leia– everyone he had known and loved– had betrayed him. Why would you have been excluded from that? 

You tried to calm your nerves. He would sense your anxiety, if he were close, willing and able to use it against you. You needed to be strong. You needed to be calm. And for the love of all that was holy, you needed to be less jumpy.

As if to completely contradict that, rustling underbrush made you whip around, very nearly drawing your sabers again. But it was only Poe. Poe, who made you feel normal. Who made you feel like you maybe weren’t so famous in the worst kind of way, who made you feel that flutter of girlish nervousness whenever he stood close to you, who helped you maybe experience what it was like to be a normal Mandalorian that didn’t have Force abilities and who wasn’t a massive target for the most dangerous Sith Lord in the galaxy. 

Poe, whose goofy smile and sparkling eyes made you feel safe.

Not that you could ever admit such a thing. 

“Easy, miracle,” He said softly, moving to a clear spot adjacent to the shrine. “It’s just me.” 

You released the breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. You watched, silently, as the pilot set down a pile of firewood, which BB-8 approached with a couple of low beeps and whirs. “What took you so long?”

“I was getting to know each piece,” he retorted with a snarky, sideways smile that sent your heart into a frenzy of flutters. “Turns out the fraying piece right here can hold a pretty decent conversation.”

“You’re a nutcase.”

“Um, no, that would be the smooth branch I have here,” He holds up a tree’s old, dry husk of a seed case as an example, brows shooting up in question. “And it would appreciate it if you said ‘branch’ instead of ‘nutcase.’ You can’t just call them that anymore, Jay.”

You know that he’s trying to make you feel better about all of this, and it warms your heart exponentially. BB’s little blips of affection only add to the tingly sensation of being comforted, an unusual and strange feeling you’d only ever felt around Din, Boba, or Luke. You crossed the space between the two of you to watch as Poe stacked the wood like a tent before allowing BB-8 the honors of lighting it, even giving him a little high-five. The display made you snort with half-hearted amusement. “And you say Beebs isn’t your son.”

“Actually, I never said that at all,” He corrected hurriedly, raising a finger to make his point as he stood. “He is my son. Technically. Sort of. If you take into consideration the fact that he acts like my son.” 

“You’re such a droid dad,” You mocked lightly, crossing your arms and shifting your weight. Poe’s eyes blinked rapidly as if somebody had thrown something at him, scanning over you almost nervously. He averted his gaze so fast you wondered if you’d imagined it, clearing his throat awkwardly. Beebs quietly beeped something you didn’t quite catch, and Poe whipped around to shush him hurriedly. 

You paid it no mind. Whatever had given him that reaction, whether it was your assortment of weapons shifting slightly as you had adjusted your position or simply smoke from the fire, you weren’t going to question it. 

“You’re going to sit here while I try to contact Luke?” You asked, and despite having tried to phrase it like an order, it somehow shifted to a question partway through. 

“Right here,” As if to prove it, Poe sat beside the fire, legs criss-crossed. BB-8 rolled up to sit beside him. “Do whatever you need to do, miracle. I’ll keep an eye out.” Poe glanced up through his dangling curls with a meaningful look in his shining eyes. Reluctantly, you nodded in acknowledgement and thanks, before turning to face the shrine. 

To you, it pulsed with a faint, hidden energy. It was buried deep, but still there, focused and funneled by the kyber when pulled upon by a Jedi. 

Or a Force-wielding Mandalorian. 

You climbed on top of the altar, folding your legs beneath you and resting the backs of your hands on your knees. Your posture was perfect. Your body, relaxed. You needed to only call upon the hidden Force, open yourself up to it… and to the possibilities of Kylo Ren sensing your presence. 

You pushed away your fear. You must do this, for Luke. To save your mentor. And so you cleared your mind of everything save the Living Force, delving into a subspace world of white light and green hills, where life and light were one in the same. You threw yourself headfirst, relishing the feeling of out-of-body freedom, calling out into the vastness of the galaxy for Luke Skywalker. 

What you found waiting for you instead was the one whom had appeared in all of your visions given to you by the Force Tree on Yavin IV, the one whom had taught you more about the Force and lightsaber technique than Luke ever could, believing you worthy of such knowledge despite your refusal to become a Jedi. 

You stepped onto the hill, all but fully detached from the physical world, and approached the ancient hooded figure, whom had died long ago. 

He turned to face you. “Welcome, youngling. I’m afraid that Luke is no longer on Tython; he has not been, for many years now.” His face was kind, green eyes showing many lifetimes of experience. His long brown hair was kept neatly back, his beard well-trimmed. You had come face-to-face with your hidden mentor: the Grey Jedi.

Qui-Gon Jinn. 

“What the fuuuuuck,” Poe breathed softly, his back pressed up against the rock behind him as he stared at the shrine with alarm. 

He wasn’t sure if you knew this, or if you’d caused it, or if it was normal, but he knew the exact moment when you’d started meditating. Like water being pulled through a straw, the kyber veins had slowly begun to pulse with sapphire energy that radiated off in wisps like smoke. He figured if he touched it, it would be cold enough to burn him. He didn’t dare try to find out. 

That wasn’t even the weirdest part. 

Ancient markings— words, maybe, in some forgotten language— had started to glow on the altar beneath you. From a ring of kyber that he was dangerously close to, Poe could only watch as a dome-like shield rose from the ground and encased you completely. Tendrils of Force-light surrounded you, caressed you, and he wondered what it was like. 

“It’s beautiful,” He commented under his breath, mesmerized by the sight. Beebs drew him sharply from his trance with a couple of brisk warbles that made Poe roll his eyes. “No, BB. I said it is beautiful, not she is beautiful. I mean, don’t get me wrong, she is beautiful, but like in an armored Mando kind of way? Like that special kind of aesthetic beauty?” BB-8 just stared at him. It was the most unamused he had ever seen a droid in his life. 

“Just… look at the fire or something,” Poe gestured desperately at the burning stack of wood, wishing that Beebs would stop teasing him. 

Bwerp bweep whirrr, BB-8 said insistently. Poe scoffed, face flushing. “I am not into her! She’s just…”

Beebs went on a long spurt of noises that Poe could easily translate, but what he didn’t like was that they echoed his own thoughts. What, she’s just a kid? Is that the excuse you’re using when you know damn well that’s not true? She’s a badass, a grown woman, she deserves to be treated like one. It’s just an excuse to avoid saying anything about it because, believe it or not, Poe Dameron himself is afraid of getting rejected by a Mandalorian.

As BB echoes his internal struggles, he realizes how ridiculous it is. You don’t know him very well, and if he’s honest, that goes both ways. Sure, he finds you attractive– in the, you’re-a-badass-in-mando-armor-so-he’s-attracted-to-your-kind-and-brave-personality-way. He admires you, too. It’s not like he’s afraid to ask you out.

Okay.

That’s a lie.

He’s terrified. 

Because he’s ten years older than you. You were a child when he was beginning his piloting career, although he has to admit, you don’t act like you’re only twenty. You have the mindset and maturity of somebody ten times your age. Age is just a number to Poe, but would you see it that way? Would you be freaked out if he asked? Besides… Mandalorians are notoriously introverted and reclusive. Relationships, he’d heard for your people, must be built on a foundation of trust, which is hard to earn. There are no dates. You either court a Mandalorian or you don’t. There’s no in-between.

Poe couldn’t take his eyes off you. You were beautiful. Not the armor, not the illusions of the Force-light, and it didn’t matter that he didn’t even know what you looked like anymore. You were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his life, and had proven your bravery more than thrice-over just in the short amount of time he’s spent with you. You were so tough, but your heart was so big. Your soul was beautiful. It felt like every time he looked at your visor where your eyes might be, you met his gaze straight on.

Maybe one day.

Maybe, one day, he’d gain your trust. But until that moment, he was stuck with this weird jittery feeling in his chest whenever he looked at you, sweaty palms, and a flickering heartbeat. He wasn’t sure where those feelings came from all of a sudden– or maybe he’d had them since you’d patched him up, and he was unable to acknowledge them because of the age gap. Now, you’re both adults…

BB-8 whirred. Didn’t expect you to have a crush on a Mandalorian.

Poe couldn’t bear to drag his eyes away from you. It was like watching magic and reality clash, with you at its center. “...Neither did I, buddy. Just keep quiet about it, okay? It’s never gonna happen. I don’t want her thinking I’m being a creep.” It’s probably just a short little burst of uncontrolled emotions. He’ll probably come across another spitfire personality that’ll send his heart into a beating frenzy, and then he’ll forget all about those you stirred in him, ending in a one-night fling of reckless energy to get the edge off until the next fiery opportunity presents itself. 

But… Whatever this is, it isn’t lust. It’s… something weird. Something odd. Some kind of pull toward you. He shook his head to clear the thoughts from his mind, playing it off as an effect of being awed by the Force. With a heavy sigh, Poe took a seat beside the fire, patting BB’s head absentmindedly.

BB-8’s frantic whistling and beeping jolted Poe from a half-hearted slumber. He jerked up from the rock he’d fallen asleep against, arms hoisting up his blaster– an old but functional BlasTech EL-16HFE blaster rifle– the weapon reeked of blaster charge and excess smoke from old fights, filling his senses with the scents of battle. The fire had died down, but the light from your shield was still plenty to see by… and alert the forces of stormtroopers zooming down to land in dropships nearby to a presence.

Urged on by BB-8’s cries, Poe pulled his macrobinoculars out from the inside of his jacket in order to better see the incoming threat. “Aw, shit.” His heart jumped into his throat before sinking to the soles of his boots. “Jay!” Poe yelled behind him in warning; BB-8 whirled with concern, beeping something about you being out of it for, at the very least,  five hours. Without stir. You may not call yourself a Jedi, but you can certainly meditate like one.

Poe turned, attempting to walk through the shield–

–only to slam right into it with enough impact to knock the wind out of him. He fell back onto his ass, nearly landing on a shocked BB. “What the hell?!”

Bworl bwirp! BB-8 wobbled on his round base in alarm, asking too many questions to a guy that just experienced what it feels like to get stunned if you don’t lose consciousness. “Ouuuuuch,” Poe groaned, voice straining as he forced his aching muscles into motion. His dark eyes flicked over the barrier– not so much as a crack, an indent, any indication of him having getting his ass busted because of it. In the distance, Poe could hear the hum of the approaching dropships with increasing clarity. “Oh shit,” He breathed, realizing he could make them out without his macrobinoculars. They were coming, and they were coming fast. “Oh shit oh shit oh shit–” 

Poe leapt to his feet, frantically searching for a way to get into the forcefield of light surrounding you. “Y/N! We’ve gotta go!” Dread settled in the pit of his stomach when you made no sign of stirring. Stormtroopers were coming to this backwater planet, which could only mean two things: they were ordered to return to further investigate, and the coincidence is uncanny, or…

Or Kylo Ren sensed you.

Maybe he’s on one of those ships right now.

Maybe he’s on a Star Destroyer up in orbit.

Coming for you.

“Beebs! Don’t wait for us, get back to the ships. Start ‘em up, prepare for the launch sequences. Get those weapon systems ready.” BB-8 whirled before turning his head in a full three-sixty, rolling at his top speed back the way they’d come. Poe turned once again to the forcefield, anxiety creeping in. C’mon, Poe, think… 

He knew the stories. He knew that there was only one possible way that he could enter your otherwise impenetrable Force-bubble, and he really did not want to do it.

But he had little choice.

He took a breath, shook out his muscles. Then he summoned all of his concentration, every ounce of strength and fiber of thought that he had, closing his eyes, extending a hand toward the shield. And with his mind, he reached out.

Poe gasped at the sensation. It was like headrush, but with a migraine. He never wanted to do this; tap into the Force. He couldn’t manipulate it. Couldn’t use it. But he could feel it. Luke had always said it was his proximity to the Force Tree on Yavin IV. He ignored it most of the time, although his actions, he found, were always influenced by it when he looked back. The precision of a certain shot, avoiding certain hazards others wouldn’t have seen, keen forethinking; and he discovered, with Leia’s help, an ability he had never, ever used.

Until now.

Y/N, his own voice echoes back to him within the Force and he hasn’t even opened his mouth. His whole body aches from the inside and out, straining with the intensity at which he was trying. He could sense you, sense your fireball of a spirit just in front of him on the altar. Y/N, danger, Poe tried to convey, and he felt, just barely, your faint flicker of recognition. He felt like he was screaming at the top of his lungs in a nightmare, unable to utter a single word because his voice was stuck shut. Y/N Y/N Y/N, Poe cried your name over and over, feeling you beginning to understand his presence, his urgency. He felt your confusion, too.

Let me in, Poe tried, Let me in let me in.

Poe?

Y/N, Poe replied, and then he felt it.

A crack. A shift. A shatter in the Force, pulled apart by searing cold subspace. He felt it, a white-hot pain everywhere all at once, but he couldn’t scream. His body was being held in some kind of icy grip, leaving him suffering but unmoving. His eyes tore open, allowing him to see the Force-shield’s brightness intensify– you doubled over, clutching your chest, gripping the edge of the altar you sat on, just as frozen as he was and just as scared. He could feel it.

Poe had never felt anything like this. His whole body was on fire on the inside, bones snapping and anything fleshy melting to goo, he was sure of it. And then it got worse. Then he was being pulled toward you and away from you, being pulled apart, and he can’t take it, he can’t he can’t he can’t–

–Poe’s pretty sure that he screamed as the sensation only grew stronger, so unbearable that he couldn’t hear or feel anything. His eyes were focused on you, his mind on the feeling of his body being ripped apart cell-by-cell. Are you feeling the same thing? Can you escape it? What if you die, too? His vision blinks, then again, flickering to black as he thinks his soul is being pulled right out of him.

And then...

It’s over.

With a final gasp, everything goes dark, goes cold, and Poe’s no longer standing on Tython. He’s free-falling, back-first, to who-knows-where, limp and boneless and very confused. But you’re above him. You’re falling, too, facing him, closer than you’d been before. 

Poe, he hears you call his name. It’s in his head, he realizes after a second. He’s hearing you in his head.

Y/N, it sounds like a plea. He immediately berates himself for it. He needs to be strong for you. He needs to protect you in this unknown, in whatever way he can.

His breath hitched as your arms fought the momentum of the fall to take his head in your hands. Your gloved thumbs caressed his cheekbones, brushing tears away he didn’t realize were there. Were you crying, too? Did it hurt that badly for you? Your voice enters his mind again, soft and certain. 

Ner runi. Poe doesn’t recognize the language. He suspects it’s Mando’a. But he feels its meaning. Its warmth. Feels you. 

He reaches up and takes you into his arms, pulling you flush against him. You don’t let go of his face as his arms wrap around you, shielding you as best he can. Poe feels your hearts beating in tandem, harmonizing and blazing together. It’s something deeper than the physical closeness, which is impeded by clothes and beskar. Something much deeper. Your souls are bared to one another, raw from the wounds of whatever you’d just experienced together and enveloped in a comforting warmth that he can’t explain. A familiarity. And he finds himself responding with the only thing that makes sense, even if he’s not entirely sure what it means.

Ner cyar’ika.

He feels you smile.

He does, too.

And then together you fall, into stardust and beyond.

Somewhere out in the cosmos, a black-clad, brooding figure stared out of the control tower windows of the Finalizer, a newly-finished Star Destroyer.

He feels you reaching out for your old mentor, and a part of him wants to destroy you for such betrayal. He corrects himself, realizing that you could never have known what Luke had tried to do to him that night.

Blissful ignorance.

Then, he felt your connection. Your sudden bond to another. How strong it was, even from here. He couldn't touch it. Couldn't manipulate it. Couldn't annihilate it. Not unless he had you in his sights, which would take time. He couldn't pinpoint your exact location, not yet. But he had some guesses.

Kylo Ren spun on his heel, exiting the bridge with fury in his steps and rage in his chest, determined now more than ever to find the only two Jedi left in the galaxy-- and the greatest pilot in the Resistance had just mistakenly added himself to the list.

================================================

Ner runi-- my soul

Ner cyar'ika-- my beloved

Thanks for reading, everyone!

Yes that crappy-quality second gif of Poe is mine. Yes it is based off of the blackouts in Moon Knight. No you cannot sue me.

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[stormkobra-5]

Starcrossed Lovers: The House of Fett Part 3 Sneak Peek

You’ve been in love with him for years. It’s a thought that makes him lightheaded, makes his knees weak and his face flushed. Years. At first it had started as a childhood crush, but as you grew, so did your feelings. That day he’d come to you in need of patching up, you’d only barely resisted the urge to kiss him when he was unconscious. And every day since, you’d wished that you had. How sometimes you’d thought about joining the Resistance but faltered every time because you worried your feelings for him might complicate missions and end in disaster. How sometimes you wanted to gather up the courage to approach him and tell him, but you— you, a Mandalorian, a Fett— was scared of his denial. You were scared that you weren’t good enough for him. And you didn’t want to suffer the pain of being near him with feelings complicated between you, eventually pushing you apart. You didn’t want to live in a world where you weren’t at least friends with him, and…

Poe wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Nothing bad— he was certain of that much, at least. He knew that before the Dyad, he’d always found you badass, had always looked forward to his little quick meetings with you and had always dreaded their endings. Yes, he did have a tiny crush on you, but he hadn’t been sure what to do with it. After all… you were a full decade younger than him.

But you were in love with him, head-over-heels, and he had a crush on you. So that should make things easy, right? It should be a simple matter of asking you out, right? Something in his gut twists at even the thought of asking you out.

Because you were in love with him. You’d been longing and yearning and pining since you were mature enough to understand the full meaning of those words. And what if he didn’t really feel these things he felt for you? What if it was just an effect of the Dyad? What, he’s just going to ask you out because of the Dyad? He’s going to use you? And when he realizes that it was only because of the Dyad, and that his feelings for you might not be as strong as he thinks? Then what?

You both were aware of the thoughts transpiring for each of you. Neither of you said anything. Not as you hiked through the desolate wilderness, not as you went about making camp. Not as you gave him instructions about how to better the camp and teach him how to start a fire from nothing but two pieces of wood and some dry brush as kindling. He mumbled something along the lines of “awesome” before sitting down across from you, trying not to stare at you as you stoked the fire and really fucking wishing that he had BB-8 with him now.

He worried for his little buddy. He hoped that BB would have seen the dangers and hid, or fled. He wondered what he’d be doing, if he were here. He also had a little selfish thought, that he wished BB-8 were present so that he could hold him, and maybe get rid of this persistent urge, no, ache, to hold something.

To hold you.

It was something Poe had been feeling all damn day. Every time you walked alongside him, it took everything in him not to reach over and hold your hand, entwine your fingers together and rid you both of this longing to be held. Ner cyar’ika, he had called you. But what did it mean? He’s pretty sure he knew.

Ner runi.

My soul.

That’s what you had called him.

Slowly, his dark chocolate eyes trailed from where he fiddled with his hands, over the fire, drawn to you. You, the badass Mandalorian that was part of one of the most powerful families there ever was, who had a heart of gold but reinforced with durasteel. You sat there cleaning your blaster, and though he couldn’t see your eyes, he felt like every few minutes you would glance at him.

Poe couldn’t take it any longer.

As if forced from his mouth, he suddenly said, very quietly, “You were never gonna tell me that you’ve been in love with me this whole time, huh?”

You froze mid-wiping the barrel. Poe immediately felt guilty, but he also wondered if you might answer. When you didn’t, unsure of what to say… he followed his instincts. He stood, making his way around the fire to sit flush against your side. He instantly felt the comfort of your presence, and he surely felt your relief.

Poe’s gaze connected to your visor, to where he knew your eyes would be looking into his. He put an arm around your shoulders, putting your blaster and tools on the ground before you before hooking his hand up under your knees to pull you half into his lap. Your soft gasp of surprise once again reminded Poe of how young you were— only 20. Only 20, and never had you taken a lover. His touch probably made you uncomfortable. He regretted the sudden advance on you.

“What are you doing?” You whispered, unsure of where to put your hands; you held them to your chest awkwardly.

“Keeping warm,” was his lame excuse. His lame excuse that both of them knew for a fact was a blatant lie. He leaned back, keeping his hold loose. Letting you know with emotions rather than words that it was okay if you wanted to pull away.

But you didn’t.

After a moment of hesitation, you started to relax. Your hands rested on his chest— did you feel his breath hitch just then? What is this? Was it the Dyad, or something more? Did he have feelings for you, or did he just think he did?

Poe started to relax, too. His hand slowly, hesitantly trailed up your arm, fingers tracing your beskar plates. He felt your breathing speed up, your uncomfortable shift. Your confusion at your own reaction. Poe inwardly kicked himself. He’d just wanted to feel you. He hadn’t meant to make you feel uncomfortable. Nobody’s ever touched her, and here I am, the love of her life, all but feeling her up. “Sorry,” He managed, but it was just the tip of the iceberg. You certainly knew how he regretted making you uncomfortable, but you responded with a low, broken hum— because you knew that deep down, he felt some kind of similar reaction.

Poe forced his hand to stop exploring your arm and come to rest on yours, which hovered over his heart. You could probably feel how it was pounding against his rib cage. His fingers slid between yours until he was holding your hand, and he wondered why he was doing any of this. “...Is this okay?” He whispered, like somebody might hear them. Honestly, he didn’t trust that the otherwise-invisible ghost Jedi wasn’t watching the exchange.

You hesitated. Your body relaxed as you took a deep breath. You squeezed his hand back. “...Yeah… Why are you doing this, Dameron?”

“I don’t know,” He replied honestly. “I just… want to, I guess?” He waited a second before adding, “...It’s Poe. It’s just Poe.”

You slowly rested your armored head on the shallow of his shoulder. He wondered if you would feel it if he kissed the top of your head. “Okay… Poe.” You sounded so soft, so sweet. Not for the first time since your bond had occurred did he wonder what your face looks like under that helmet.

“Let’s try to get some sleep, miracle,” He breathed, and he expected it not to come.

But he woke at dawn the next morning from a heavy, peaceful rest— one he hadn’t had the likes of in many years now— to you still enclosed protectively in his arms, but now also by his legs. You didn’t seem to mind. You were deeply asleep, too, he could feel it, but you laid on top of him with your hands on his chest and your armored head nestled between his shoulder and neck, under his jaw; even in your sleep, you’d been careful of your rangefinder so that it didn’t poke him in the face.

Unsure of what to do, Poe stayed like that for several minutes. He was in a bit of shock. Mandalorians notoriously never slept around anyone but each other or when alone, because they didn’t trust anyone enough. It was an intimate thing, sleeping near someone. It required the utmost amount of assurance that there was no way in hell one could get hurt. So for you to trust him enough to fall asleep not only near him, but on him, limbs entangled like this…

Poe was honored, for one.

The butterflies in his stomach showed him another feeling, too. He wasn’t sure what to do with that one yet.

Poe leaned forward slowly, afraid of waking you, before pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your helmet. A part of him thought it was weird, at first, to kiss your helmet… but then he felt relief. He closed his eyes and breathed in your scent of beskar, flight suit cotton, fuel, and lightsabers, which slightly nullified your slightly sweeter accents of second-hand exposure to spice and sugar. You smelled like ten thousand worlds, the galaxy in his arms; you smelled like a bounty hunter.

Poe smiled to himself and closed his eyes, letting himself feel you in his arms.

Thanks for reading!

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[stormkobra-5]

Survive: The House of Fett Poster

"What do we do now, Poe?" L’ulo questioned, hefting his makeshift bat of old scrap-metal in preparation.

On the outside, he kept his steadfast and calm demeanor. Inwardly, though, he was terrified. If Beebs didn't get to the grav-control center soon, they'd be overrun. He doubted they'd last five minutes; but he refused to let Black Squadron see that. He had to believe they'd make it. For them. He'd opened his mouth to respond when he felt that distinctive ripple. It was like a punch in his gut, tearing the breath from his lungs and making him stumble-- and suddenly Megalox Beta was gone, the incoming mob nothing more than a memory. He was in the eerie deep twilight of Tatooine's deserts, standing outside of Luke Skywalker's hut.

Standing before you.

Your lightsabers were drawn, breath heaving. You'd been fighting. "Poe?"

"Y/N," Poe breathed, relieved to see you alive. "What's going on?"

"I was ambushed," You explained, "Bounty hunters. You?"

"Angry mob of the most dangerous criminals in the galaxy," Poe said casually, trying to catch his breath. "And we're primitively armed. Nice to see both our missions are going well."

His reflexes reacted before his mind did, catching the silver metallic object you threw at him. "Huh?" One of your lightsabers. "Fuck, Jay, I can't take this!"

"Yes you can, and you will," You snapped, activating your second. "You need it more than I do."

Poe hesitated. He saw movement behind you, which you sensed; twisting your remaining saber, you effortlessly deflected a blaster shot harmlessly away from you and into the sand. "Bring it back to me, Poe."

"You know I will, miracle," He answered, but he was already back in the roaring chaos of Megalox Beta, blinding sunlight stunning him for a second.

"Poe!" Snap roared. "Fall back, dammit!"

The rest of Black Squadron was already several yards behind him, but his communication with you had left him standing still. The mob was too close for him to retreat, and so he pressed the button on the saber with a thrilling rush of adrenaline. He used your trademark spin, defending and attacking with a precision he learned from watching you fight. Left-right-left, under and over, Poe felt like a Jedi as his strikes hit home on his targets. It was easier than he'd thought to twirl the saber, deflecting hard blows with strength he didn't realize he had.

He heard a blaster shot, understanding too late that it was too close, he couldn't deflect it; but he didn't have to. You did. Appearing here as much as he had appeared on Tatooine. Back to back, each with a saber, fighting in perfect sync, the buzz and pulse of the plasma blades as satisfying as your swings. You defended each other as your worlds melted together. You killed prisoners on Megalox Beta while he annihilated the bounty hunters on Tatooine. Briefly, he wondered what it looked like from an outsider's perspective. Was he fighting side-by-side a Mandalorian guardian angel? Were you battling with what was seemingly a Jedi at your back?

It was over as soon as it had begun, returning to your physical planes and uninterrupted by your Bond. The mob regrouped, eyeing him warily. He hoped his appearance on Tatooine had done the same for you, allowing you a moment's respite.

Poe loped back to his squadron, joining them as they caught their breath and prepared for the next assault. "What the hell was that?" Jess breathed, but Poe barely heard her. The mob was sending a handful of their strongest, biggest melee fighters charged with guttural cries.

"What do we do now?" Poe said, spinning the saber to psych himself up for the next round. "Survive."

---

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[stormkobra-5]

Legacies: The House of Fett Poster

Jaster Mereel: Mand’alor, father of Jango, a member of Concord Dawn.

Jango Fett: Notorious bounty hunter, father of Boba, the one from which all clones came.

Boba Fett: Best bounty hunter in the galaxy, father of Y/N, daimyo of Mos Espa before Cobb Vanth.

Y/N Janghis Fett: Up-and-coming bounty hunter, Force-User, apprentice of Luke Skywalker.

Din Djarin: Bounty hunter, father of Grogu, wielder of the Darksaber, future Mand’alor, leader of the Heirs of Glass.

Poe Dameron: Ace pilot of the Resistance, son of Kes Dameron and Shara Bey, commander and leader.

Kylo Ren: Sith Lord, once Ben Solo, conflicted and tortured.

Luke Skywalker: Legend, myth, Jedi Knight, son of Darth Vader and twin brother of General Leia Organa.

---

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[stormkobra-5]

The Creed and The Six Actions: The House of Fett Poster

Strength is life, for the strong have the right to rule.

Honor is life, for with no honor one may as well be dead.

Loyalty is life, for without one’s clan one has no purpose.

Death is life, one should die as they have lived.

This is the Creed of a Mandalorian.

This is the Way.

———

Resol’nare:

Wear the traditional armor.

Speak Mando’a.

Defend yourself and your family.

Raise your children to become Mandalorians.

Contribute to the clan’s welfare.

When called upon by the Mand’alor, rally to the cause.

———

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[stormkobra-5]

Fett’s Resolve: The House of Fett Poster

Darkness is easier to fall into

Rather than struggling toward the light

But shadow will eventually destroy you

Whereas warm sunshine is worth the fight

———

“Don’t do it, Jay,” Poe begged, mentally rather than vocally. He would not beg in front of Ren.

“Join me,” Kylo Ren offered his hand to you. An extension of what could be an easy alliance between old friends. He gave the illusion that he cared for you. “We can rule the galaxy. Side-by-side. Like we were meant to.”

You glanced back and forth between them. Ren was unblocked, easily accessible, and behind him was the pitch blackness of the vacant temple corridors, lit by intermittent falling sparks and melting blobs of metal and stone.

And Poe, cut off from you by a wall of fire, watched anxiously, almost a silhouette from how brightly the midday sunshine streamed into the broken wall behind him.

You could destroy Ren. Here and now. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t and you wouldn’t, despite all of his atrocities. He still had your brother’s face, his voice. But he was Ben Solo no longer.

The choice was easy.

You raced for the barrier of searing flames, refusing to face the Sith Lord.

Poe would be there to catch you and save you from burning on the other side.

---

Series Masterlist here

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[stormkobra-5]

Connected: The House of Fett Poster

[Series Masterlist]

You’d felt him using the Force. Manipulating it. Calling your name.

Ner cyar’ika.

He’d called you that, hadn’t he?

“I-I don’t know what a Dyad is,” Poe stammered as he stood, his next question clearly evident on his face as he surveyed your surroundings, surroundings which were most definitely not Tython. Old trees adorned with red, orange, and golden leaves grew tall and straight around you, dropping their foliage into a crunching mess of color beneath your feet. The sapphire sky held two moons instead of one, and you stood on the precipice of a steep hill lined with stones and roots. “What the hell…”

“A Dyad,” Qui-Gon said, crossing his arms, “Is a strong bond between two individuals, usually Force-sensitive. It can span vast distances of time, space… No matter the circumstances, communication is possible. Often, those bonded with a Dyad can speak to one another without using their voice.”

Poe took it in stoically, although his wide eyes and parted lips showed his surprise. You felt his surprise, alongside your own. “So… Y/N and I…”

“Share a Dyad,” Qui-Gon finished for him, nodding to emphasize the fact that, yes, there’s now a deep link between the two of you.

One that can never be broken.

———

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[stormkobra-5]

Yavin IV & Tython: The House of Fett Poster

[Series Masterlist]

“He’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”

—Emily Bronte, Wuthering Heights

———

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[stormkobra-5]

Disturbance: The House of Fett Poster

“He felt it,” you whispered, keeping a tight hold of Poe’s hands.

“Felt what?” He dared to ask.

“Our Dyad,” Your voice cracked, mirroring your heart breaking under the pressure. It was a wonder that Poe even heard it. “And now he wants to destroy it.”

Poe got on his knees before you, taking your helmeted face in his hands. “I made you a promise once, didn’t I?” When you nodded, he added, “Did I break it then?” You shook your head. “Then don’t think there any way in hell I’m gonna break it now. I’m not gonna let him get you, miracle. I’m not gonna let him get us... I promise.”

You sank into his touch, into the forehead-kiss he pressed to cold beskar. Because even though there was no possible way for Poe to keep his promise, you took solace in it nevertheless.

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[stormkobra-5]

Mando’a: The House of Fett Poster

“A Mandalorian isn’t a race.”

“It’s a Creed.”

—Cara Dune and Din Djarin, The Mandalorian

————————————————————————

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[stormkobra-5]

Kin— The House of Fett Poster

She called him ori’vod, for he was not only her teacher but her brother, a mentor and a sibling even if not by blood. He called her verd’ika, for he loved his sister with all his heart, and though she was little then, she was fierce. “Little soldier” became his name for her, and thus is how it shall remain.

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