SWEET ESCAPE || poe dameron x reader

chapter three: green-seven

"Jones was right," You croaked from your bunk. "Your snoring broke the sound barrier last night," You hoisted yourself up with a groan, scowling at the chuckles that came from Poe's mouth.

"You'll get used to it," He replied, making his bed as he wiped the sleep from his eyes.

Getting ready in the morning was fairly easy. You waited until Poe left for the mess hall, before changing clothes and freshening yourself up. You weren't a breakfast person, which meant more time alone. Maker, it was blissful when you weren't feeling stared at, or under the intense gaze of a shirtless Dameron.

You went over the itinerary that Leia had given you the day before— it was a full day of training for you, no doubt to gage your abilities in hand-to-hand combat. You could fight, you'd been doing it for years, but what you were really looking forward to was piloting.

"Every month there are higher ranking opportunities in piloting the X-wings," Poe explained, after you finally made it out of your dorm room. You were stood with him in a large clearing, dotted with training equipment; staffs, a small obstacle course, and a sizeable arena for hand-to-hand displays. "That's where newbies, like you, can show us what you're made of and get assigned to a squadron,"

You nodded once, crossing your arms. The clearing was bustling with cadets, pilots, techs and mechs alike. Everyone needed a basic knowledge of fighting in the Resistance, whether they were out in the field or not.

"When's the next one?" You asked, shooting him a raised brow.

"In three days,"

Three days. Three days until you were sat in a cockpit again.

Poe stepped forward then, yelling over the group as cadets started to settle down. He was leading training for the morning, and Maker, maybe you were a tad excited. You knew it was certain that he would pick on you— a newbie, his bunkmate, fresh meat— but you were ready. Poe may be tall, and muscular, and annoying handsome, getting enough pussy to last his entire life; but you were strong. Even without the help of your Force, you knew your abilities back to front. Maybe it was sad, having this ingrained knowledge of fighting hierarchies, of being behind a windshield for most of your teenage years, for knowing what it's like to lose—

But instead, you used it to ground you.

Until this war was over, it would be all you knew. That was a fact.

"You know the drill, find a sparring partner. I'll take you all through the basics again real quick," Poe boomed over the group, as cadets started to pair up, until you were the final person without a partner. Poe shot his gaze to you, the hint of an amused smile on his lips. "Newbie! You're my partner,"

Oh, yay. Just what you'd wanted. You reluctantly walked forward, ignoring the snickers and mumbles and whispers from the cadets around you. Poe shot a grin to a few members of his squadron, before you were right in front of him. "I'll go easy," He whispered, and Maker, once again you were imagining your fist making contact with his jaw— except this time, you were allowed to do it.

"So, we'll start with defence. Blocking is one of the greatest tools in hand-to-hand combat that you can use. Buys you time, lets you shock your opponent," Poe explained to everyone, as he placed his hands on your shoulders and moved you back, back, back, into the very centre of the training arena. "So, Newbie here is going to try and block me,"

That earned a few giggles from behind you— you'd hazard a guess at who it was; Ale'sha, Red-Four. How was it that you were all grown, yet still felt like a child in some situations? The Resistance was no better than a fucking school.