We Could Be Together, If You Wanted To

trilogy logan>>>>

I'd wanna hold you (just for the night)

A drunken call, a second chance. 

Poe Dameron x f!reader

Rated M - 7.9k

Tags: Smut, PIV, No Protection, Drinking/Drunk calls, Characters in Peril, Reader struggles with anxiety

(Part 1) (Part 2)

Authors Note: Hello! Thank you all again for the love on my current fics, it really means the world. I am someone who can only write one story at a time, and I cannot move on until I finish. So, as you could tell, this fic is taking me a long time to wrap up, so I decided to post in in two parts! This Poe is different than Crawlin' Back to You, he makes questionable decisions, he sometimes doesn't do the right thing, but this is a story about two people finding their way back to each other, despite it all. The ending is nearly done, but I thank you all for still showing interest in this story while I worked through it. Again, no beta reading for this, I honestly just wanted to get it out to you all, haha. Likes and reblogs are always appreciated and I will see you soon!

Divider by @/saradika

Your night wasn't meant to be like this. You were relaxed. Or at least, trying to be. Cozied up in your small quarters, the day's transgression far behind you as you sip from your glass, the chill of alcohol easing down your throat. From broken bones, to laser burns, you had quite literally seen it all in the medics zone. But, you were working on putting it behind you, so you quickly focused your attention back to the novel laying forgotten in your lap. Your space felt smaller, you realized, and you shivered as you tried to shake the thought from your mind.

You couldnt think about it.

You couldnt think about him. 

Throwing back the rest of your drink, you devote your time to your reading, trying to get lost in the pages. 

You indeed get lost, but not within the pages as you planned.

The sharp ring of your phone sends you shooting up, your eyes quickly searching for some sign of danger before landing on the phone somewhere beside the couch you had most definitely passed out on. You frown as you place the comm beside your ear, clearing your throat before speaking. 

“Hello?”

There's a shuffle, and curse, and you can hear loud music pouring out from the other side until it dies down. A soft sigh. A sniffle.

“Hey, pretty girl.”

You freeze, that voice wrapping itself around your heart and squeezing. You try so hard to not react to his name, to avoid the pitiful stares, to show you had meant this. And yet, three simple words were making your heart race faster than it had in months.

“Poe, its…” you glance at the nearby clock, shocked to see it reading 2am, “It's late Poe, why are you calling me?”

“I, I just-” you wince as you hear a gasp, and then a loud thud. No doubt, Poe tripped. The smoothest pilot in the galaxy just ate shit on the phone with you. The realization of exactly what this call was made anger rise within you. 

“Poe, are you drunk?”

His voice warbles on for a bit before it seems he finds his comm link once more. “No-I mean, yes, but I really did just want to call you.” His tone is pleading, and you can already imagine his eyes, so brown and soft batting up towards you. You let out a puff of angry air, shaking your head as you rise from the couch. 

“Poe, this is exactly what we shouldn't be doing.”

“I know, I know, it's just-”

“Just what, Poe? It's been seven months, I told you, we are over.”

There's a chill from the other end of the line, and you almost think he's ended the call. There's a small hiccup, and a sob, and you can't believe it but Poe Dameron is crying on the other end of the phone. 

“I messed this all up, didn't I?” He breathes out shakily. You can imagine him sitting outside some god knows where cantina, sitting in the rain or snow, clinging to this call like it was all he had. 

And you would be right.

Poe sniffles, wiping at his nose as he sits on the curb, the icy night air chilling him to the bone. But he couldn't give up, not when he had you on the line, finally. Yes, he hadn't wanted to be drunk for this call, hell, he didn't even think he was drunk enough to get kicked out of Oga’s but here he was. 

“You deserve so much better than what I gave you, sweet girl.” He adds after a moment, thinking back to that time where he wasn't drunk calling you any chance he had. When he wasn't wishing you were somewhere in the crowd of people welcoming him back home. 

Back to that time he was yours. 

---

You met Poe in the medical bay on D’Qar in the Ileenium system. You rush into the hidden shelter, a large crowd gathered around a single cot, effectively keeping you out. 

“I am a medic! You need to move!” You call out, trying to move past the throng of bystanders. You were paged in for an emergency crash, something about a pilot being hit and needing serious attention. You were well prepared for any situation, you had spent years saving lives, but despite it all, nothing prepared you for him.

There Poe sat, smiling in the cot, looking as healthy as ever. You frown, glancing around, trying to see if perhaps this was a mistake, maybe another pilot was getting moved in. 

“Ah, so this is the famed medic of the rebellion!” 

You turn slowly, locking eyes with said pilot. You nod slowly, watching with awe as he waves a hand and the crowd disperses, leaving you two alone together. 

“I’m sorry they called you in like that, but I’m fine! Only slight scrapes,” he flashed you an arm with minimal cuts, and you try to not stare at the strong muscled physique he obviously had. 

“I would still like to do an examination, Mr. Dameron-”

“Poe.”

You pause, looking at him with furrowed brows. Poe just tilts his head, giving you a lopsided smile. “My friends call my Poe.”

You nod briskly, approaching his side to check over his vitals. “Your vitals look fine, but I just want to make sure you have not suffered any brain injuries from the crash.” You explain, leaning over his cot to shine a small light into his eyes. You notice he takes in a quick breath, his pupils dilating, and his heart rate spiking. “Are you okay?” You ask quickly, looking over him for any signs of trauma. He shakes his head then nods. 

“Yes, yes, more than okay. I’m great-Fine! Actually.” He stammers, his fists tightening on the thin sheets of his cot. You raise an eyebrow, giving him a quizzical stare. 

“Alright, if you say so.” You double check his vitals, just to be safe, and sigh as you push the screen away. “Seems like you have no internal trauma, just a few scrapes, I’ll get some bandages for you and you can be on your way. You begin to leave, but you hear the rattle of the cot, turning your head to see Poe trying to clamber his way after you. “I’ll be right back, Mr.Dameron-Poe.” You quickly adjust, trying to avoid staring at the wide smile that spreads on his face at your words. You tell yourself you only said it to make him stay.

 “Alright, I’ll wait for you.” He says happily, returning to his seat. It baffled you, his carefree attitude, his abundance of charm. But you could feel that pull to him others must feel as well, like sitting in the sun when you're with him. You quickly gather some bandages and return to his side, carefully turning his forearms over so you could smooth the patches over his tanned skin. His corded muscles flex under your touch, and you try to ignore the burning heat of his eyes on you. “Alright,” you smile softly, approving your quick work, “Looks like you are set to go. Just try not to fall out of your x-wing next time.” You say, giving him a small smile as you cross your arms over your chest. His eyes track the movement before he shakes his head, nodding to your words. 

“What? You don't want to see me again?” He asks, his voice dripping in confidence and pride. You let out a chuckle, waving him off as another medic motions for you to follow them to another cot, “I would prefer to not see you injured and in this tent at all.” You challenge, giving his arm a gentle pat before turning to leave. 

Poe, as usual, had his own plans.

A week later, you stare at Poe, his face grinning sheepishly as he sits in front of you in another cot. You were called down for, and you repeat, “a life threatening injury”. Instead, Poe was settled in the room before you, happily shifting his body against the thin sheets. 

“Mr. Dameron-”

“Poe. Remember? You said it last time?”

You groan, dragging a hand down your face as you feel your heart rate elevate. “Mr. Dameron,” you emphasize, giving him a sharp look, “I was called down here for a life threatening injury, but it seems you are very much not life threateningly injured.” You frown, tapping your foot impatiently against the cool metal flooring. Poe gives you a nervous chuckle, putting his hands up in surrender. “I’m not even sure why they called it in like that! It was only a droid to the ankle.” He explains, pointing down to his slightly bruised leg. You huff, quickly moving to his bedside and touching his ankle. Poe hisses, and your eyes snap to his, gauging what level of pain he really was in. 

“I’ll give you some pain tabs.” You say quickly, leaning back up straight to glance down at him. From this angle, you can see the way his deep brown eyes glow as he looks at you, an infuriating sight when you have so much work to do. 

“Your name, also, that would be nice.” He says softly, his hands folded so politely in his lap it makes you want to curse. Your brows furrow as you look away, pretending to be so busy you couldn't have even heard him. You move away, only a few cots down, and begin to rebandage another squad member's burns.

Poe always preached about patience.

So he waits, watching you move around him in displeasure, but it doesn't lessen the smile from his face. He enjoyed watching you work, even if he knew you were pretending to forget to give him his medicine. The dull throb in his ankle was worth it to see you this close. Poe considered himself a pro at what he did, so it made him intrigued to see you move so masterfully in tense situations like this. You smiled, joked with younger patients, lent a shoulder to older ones, you even laughed.

He was sure that sound would haunt him in his dreams.

“I think the pain is beginning to become life threatening!” He calls out playfully, pretending to wince as your head snaps to him. You try to lessen the flush in your cheeks as you realize he was still here, you had actually forgotten to make him leave. Maybe, you didn't forget, the sensation of his gaze burning into you was too prevalent to ignore, and it horror, you realize that maybe you even liked it. You grab a small bottle of painkillers and thrust them into his hands, and you try not to flinch as his warm hands brush against yours. 

“There, sorry for the wait.” You mumble, trying to look around for any chance of escape.

“Well, I’m not sure your supervisor would like to hear about the medical negligence of the rebellion's favorite pilot now would they?” Poe grins, knowing he has you trapped. Your mouth opens and closes, trying to form some comeback, but maker, you were trapped by his puppy dog gaze. 

“You can say no, but I know a great place for dinner. Whenever you're off. I can wait. If you want to say yes, that is.” He adds quickly, pulling his hands back to his lap. What surprises you, isn't his request, but rather the nervous tremble of his tone, the way his hands are gripping the bottle so tightly.

Poe Dameron, the golden boy of the resistance, was nervous to ask you out.

You could feel your mouth twitch up, a lopsided smile, and you can feel the words tumble out of your mouth before you could even think. 

“I’m off in 3 hours, and I like anyplace that has a good drink.” Is all you say before you scoot away, quickly heading to one of the private screening rooms to sort through the flood of emotions coursing through your body.

Poe Dameron just asked you out?

You just said yes?

You listen carefully as you hear the calls of people saying bye to him, Poe knowing each medic by name, before the silence of his departure reaches your ears. 

You try to finish the rest of your shift without thinking too much of what waited for you after, and you especially tried not to think of why your heart was beating so fast. Luckily, all the other medics were able to pick up after you as you managed to almost deliver the wrong bandages to two different patients, or how you began to stop in the hallways, a sigh escaping your lips. 

You were a mess. 

Time crept by slowly as you continuously glanced at the clocks around the medbay, each one moving slower than the last. Eventually, it was close enough that even your supervisor motioned for you to head out. 

“Does everyone know about this?” You mutter under your breath, carefully removing your uniform and shoving it into your locker. Other medics around you chuckled, nodding vigorously. 

“I’m afraid Poe has told at least half the rebellion you agreed to this date.” One of them giggles, letting out a blissful sigh. “It's just so romantic.”

Romantic?

Your past trysts within the rebellion had been nothing grand, quick dalliances with mechanics or other pilots. You all had a goal at hand, and a relationship would distract you all. You weren't used to this gawking, these envious stares from others. You were a medic, appearing only when needed and then disappearing when you were done. Maker, half of your team didn't even know your first name. Yet somehow, with one simple question, Poe has made everyone know exactly who you are. Your skin began to itch under the weight of it all, your civilian clothes feeling too tight. There was a reason you avoided this attention, it wasn't like you. 

You weren't sure how long it had been, your head resting against the once cool metal of your locker, until a gentle hand pulls you from your thoughts. 

Everyone had left the break room, even the lights were dimmer. Your eyes drift from the tanned hand on your shoulder, up and along the white clad arm until you reach his eyes. 

Brown, so wide and concerned. 

“Hey,” Poe says gently, giving you a small smile. You instantly feel bad, how long had he been waiting? How could you have let your mind drift so far from you, you should have known better- “It's okay, sometimes I get stuck in my head too.” 

You blink, taking in his words. Your body aches as you begin to feel the life return to your fingers and toes, your sense of self finally reaching every point of your being. 

“Sometimes, I get really nervous before missions, so nervous in fact I spend most of the night before staring at a wall, thinking of everything that could go wrong.” He adds, gently squeezing your shoulder. The touch sparks another warmth in you, your cheeks flushing as you can't deny how good it feels. 

“But then the mission comes along, and even though I’m nervous, it never goes as bad as I thought. Sometimes, we just make life harder for ourselves, hm?” He grins, lowering his hand and you so desperately want to reach for it once more, to hold it close to you. You open your mouth to speak, surprised at how dry it feels.

“I’m…I’m sorry I made you wait so long.” You say softly, turning your back against the locker to look at him fully. Poe was dressed nicely, a crisp white button up, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Nice black pants, forming shapely to his body. And here you were, in a long sleeve tunic and pants. You hadn't even thought about changing after work, and another flush of embarrassment rushes through you. 

Poe simply shakes his head, “I didn't wait long at all, honestly, our food took a while so I asked for it to go, figured we could eat out in the fresh air.” He smiles, shaking the bag in his other hand for emphasis.You knew he was lying for your sake, and another flush courses through your body. Poe takes a breath, his eyes flicking up to yours nervously, “Did I ruin this? I just, I wanted to take you out since I first saw you, but I feel like I did it all wrong-” 

“I wanted to!” You interject, surprised by your confident response. It was true, you did want to join him this evening. “I’m just not used to the attention, everyone knows about it and I'm not exactly forward with my private life here.” You explain softly, dragging a hand along your arm. “It made me nervous, it felt like this was all a test. At least half of the other medics here would have no second thoughts on killing me for this spot.” Poe stares at you intently, a smirk on his lips. 

“It was you or nothing, sweet girl.”

Before you could even speak, Poe reaches forward, taking one of your hands in his free one. He leads you through the medbay, and out to the night sky, the cool air brushing against your face. His x-wing was landed outside of the medical area, glowing under the night sky. Your eyes widened at the massive ship, never having seen one so close before. He pulls you closer, tugging you along to a small ladder leading up onto the x-wing. You glance at Poe, who only smirks back as he begins to expertly climb up the ladder all while balancing your meals on the other hand. He practically disappears at the top of the machine, your head having to crane back to try and grab a glimpse of him. He doesn't say anything for a few moments, the only sign of him even being up there was a few curses and clanks of metal. You begin to back up, trying to spy on what he was up to before his voice cuts through the night air. 

“Okay sweet girl! Come on up!” His face peers over the side of the ship, grinning happily down to you. “Just climb up and I’ll get you!”

You take a breath, approaching the ladder and carefully making your way up. The top of the x-wing was slick, causing your body to move slowly as you finally reach those very last few rungs. A warm hand takes your wrist, helping you pull yourself up as you gasp at your surroundings. From this height, you were fully surrounded by the night sky, stars and other galaxies twinkling down from above. 

And maker, the sight before you easily rivaled it.

There was a few blankets placed on the cockpit canopy, making a soft resting place on the hard exterior. The meal Poe had brought was now on plates, and set carefully in the center of the blankets along with two glasses and a bottle of alcohol you recognize from the dining hall. 

You let out a small laugh, the realization of his actions finally hitting you. 

“You set this all up for us?” You ask him softly, letting him guide you down to the plush blankets. Poe shrugs, moving along the top of the X-wing with ease, settling down right across from you. “You're surrounded by people all day, I thought a change would be nice. Just me, you-” There was another clank and crash, the ladder to the w-wing rattling aggressively. “BB-8!” Poe groans, leaning his body over the edge of the ship, talking down to a disgruntled orange droid below. Your smile widens, your gaze quickly raking over his form as he leans back up, chuckling shyly. 

“This is all not going as I planned, exactly.” He admits softly, running a hand nervously through his hair. You shake your head, reaching for the cups as you begin to pour your drinks. “Poe, this is amazing, honestly, no ones ever done anything like this for me before.” You admit to him, passing him the drink and trying not to shiver as your fingers brush against one anothers. He only smiles, waiting for you to bring your cup up to his with a soft clink. “I’m glad, or else I’d have to figure out what pilot was taking you out on dates on their X-wing.” He finishes with a grumble, taking a quick sip of the bubbly alcohol. You laugh, really laugh, for what feels like the first time in awhile. “What? Only you can do it?” You ask with a smile, taking a sip of your own drink. Poe shakes his head, leaning back onto his psalm as he gazes up at you. “No, I don't care if they do it, it only matters if they did it with you.” 

Poe was honest. Actually, probably the most honest person you had met. Despite his constant flirty comments, none of them felt fake, or false, but rather true. Straight from his heart almost. You flush, glancing away from his radiant smile as he watches you. You both move to the food, digging into the multiple plates Poe got, and you smile as you watch him shrug sheepishly. “I didn't want to get you the wrong thing.”

“So you ordered the entire menu?”

Poe grins, but waves your question away as he holds out half of a sandwich to you. You eat and talk, Poe regaling tales of his adventures, and vice versa. Poe watches you with wide eyes, taking in every detail of your stories from the medbay. Soon the meal was done, and Poe had somehow moved from his spot in front of you to beside you, both of you reclined back on the canopy and watching the stars. It was perfect. He had somehow given you the date of your dreams, without even knowing. Yet, those thoughts continued to swirl in your mind, why, why, why? You hadn't noticed the conversation growing quiet until you felt the tap of a finger on your forehead. Poe gazes down at you, kind eyed, a smile on his lips. “What's going on in there, Doc?” He asks gently, pulling his hand away slowly. You hold your drink to your chest, biting your lip as you begin to get lost in your thoughts again. 

Of course he noticed. 

Poe Dameron, perfectly aware of your anxious spirals. 

“Why…” You begin, setting your glass down with a shaky hand. “Why did you ask me on a date, Poe?” The question hangs in the air between you both, and Poe bites his lip as he thinks, only for a few seconds. He adjusts himself beside you, leaning on his side with his head held in his bent arm as he looks down at you, your eyes trapped within his. 

“I wanted to ask you out because you treated me like a person. You didn't rush to my aid because I was me, but because someone was hurt.” He begins softly, tapping his fingers nervously on the metal of the canopy. “How could I not want to get to know someone like that, someone so selfless and kind?” His words send a heat straight through your veins, your skin practically glowing from the inside. Your heart pounds as you nod, taking in his thoughts. 

“I mean, I’m not anyone special-”

“You are.”

Poe smiles, boyishly, kindly, reverently. 

“You are special.”

You gasp, the breath tearing through you as tears well up in your eyes. Poe leans into you quickly, reaching for you with concern as you wave him off, a laugh emerging from each of you. Poe's hand reaches up, gently wiping at the tears in the corners of your eyes. Here he was, the golden boy of the rebellion to everyone else, but simply Poe to you, looking down at you like you were the brightest star in the galaxy. Your mouth opens, unsure of what to say to him. His hair hangs over his face as he looks down at you, an easy smile on his lips. There's an intimacy in this closeness, in the lack of conversation verbally. His eyes roamed over your face, as if committing you to memory. You take the chance to look at him, fully, your eyes sweeping over every eyelash, every scar. 

Who knows how long you both stay like this, simply caught in the beauty of one another. 

---

Poe makes it a point to bring you lunch every day.

He grins, expertly twisting around the bunches of nurses and patients until he reaches you, grinning from ear to ear. “Lunchtime, Doc.” He smiles, leaning against the wall as you finish administering medicine to a mechanic. You smile, shaking your head as you excuse yourself from your patient, greeting Poe with a small kiss to the cheek. 

You gasp excitedly, peering into the lunch bag with glee, “I've been craving this! How do you always know!” You smile, looking up to Poe’s sheepish grin. 

“Just thought you'd like this for lunch today. I’m going on a small mission for the next few days, so I won't be around to bring you lunch.” He explains, casually reaching for your hand as you both walk to the front of the medbay and exiting the sterile smelling area. You nod, listening to his words, crushing the lunch to your chest with your one hand as you think of what it was going to be like not seeing him so often. Poe sighs, seeing your eyes wander off and gently cups your face, bringing your gaze up to his. “Hey, I can practically hear your mind at work.” He teases gently, pulling on your cheeks gently. 

“Just, be safe, don’t do anything reckless.” You tell him softly, meeting his gaze. Poe gives you that lopsided grin, nodding to your request. “I have to do what I must, you know how it is.” 

Before you could fully process his reply, you hear his name being called, fellow pilots waving their arms from down the way, signaling it was already time to go. Poe sighs, but even as your eyes drift back to his face, you know his gaze never left yours. 

“Okay, I have to go now.”

“Okay, be safe.”

“Anything else?” You let out a confused laugh, shaking your head, “Please? Please be safe?” You amend, causing Poe to laugh loudly. He gently rolls your face in his hands, shaking your head from side to side. 

“What am I going to do with you?” He whispers softly, but his eyes hold that warm glow they always did when he looked at you. Poe pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around your shoulders tightly as he buries his face into your neck, breathing in deeply. Your hand remains crushed between you both, holding onto your food while the other wraps itself around his torso, running along his spine soothingly. He gives you one last squeeze before pulling back, keeping you tightly in his arms. “Only a few days, m’kay?” He sighs, leaning forward, brushing his lips against your forehead gently. You blink rapidly, still feeling the heat of his lips even after they leave your skin. 

“‘Kay.” You smile softly, feeling the heat leave your body as he pulls back, giving you one last look over before making his way to the pilots quarters, gearing up for his mission. 

You take your lunch, heading back into your breakroom. You begin to unpack, but pause, the feeling of multiple eyes on you. At least every nurse or doctor was staring at you impatiently, and you glance down at yourself self consciously, maybe something was amiss with your clothes?

“I would hate to overstep,” A voice begins, causing your gaze to snap up. You find an older nurse approaching you, one you worked with often in the emergency bays, smiling gently as she takes a seat beside you. “I know it probably is so stressful dating the most famed pilot of the rebellion, but…” The nurse clasps her hands together tightly, staring at you with a stern look, “You couldn't give that boy one kiss goodbye?” 

You blink.

No…kiss?

You had, hadn't you?

You begin to rethink your entire conversation earlier, replaying every moment in your mind until you remember. 

‘Anything else?’

He was waiting for you. 

You shoot up from the table, a rush of heat heading to your cheeks. With Poe, you felt comfortable, his gentle nature making you feel taken care of. 

Your past couplings were emotionless, simply to fix a need everyone got. You never kissed them, it was too romantic, too intimate. 

You didn't even think to ask him for something like that.

But you wanted to. 

“Shit!” You screech, taking off from the breakroom, barely able to hear the thunderous cheers and uproars of people cheering you on. You rush out of the medbay, seeing the large crowd of people gathering near the X-wings, waving goodbye to their loved ones or friends. You gently shove through the throngs of people, looking around quickly, hoping you weren't too late. You finally break through the front of the crowd, glancing around the lines of ships waiting for take off, pilots beginning to climb into the cockpits. 

“Poe!” You call out, cupping your hands around your mouth to amplify your voice. You move through the machines much to the dismay of the controllers, yelling at you to move out of the way. You know he is here, you couldn't be too late.

Could you?You feel your throat tighten, the rush of feelings all of a sudden too much, threatening to pour out of you at this stupid mistake you made. He made you feel safe and seen, something you had never experienced yet with someone else like this. You quickly swivel your head, looking around at the sea of orange flight suits milling around. You could feel that anxiety and panic, clawing its way up your body and into your head.

You're too late.

Too late.

Too late.

With one final breath, you stand firmly, rooting yourself to the ground while mustering up all the courage you had left.

“Poe Dameron!”

---

Poe could sense something was wrong. He was adjusting his suit for the umpteenth time as he lingered near the ladder to his X-wing. He couldn't help his gaze wavering from his task at hand to the distant crowd of people, all waving to his squad. He liked to set up farther away from everyone, giving himself time to focus and quell the negative thoughts before a mission. He was only taking his time because he could swear he heard your voice, calling out for him. He shook his head, chuckling lowly at the idea. He left you at the medbay, that honeyed look in your eyes as you looked up to him was enough to keep him going through this mission. Even if he wanted something more, he would wait, wait until you told him you were ready. 

He realized, with a startled laugh, he would wait forever for you. 

“Well, BB-8, time to head out.” He said softly, giving his droid a gentle nudge. His hands begin to haul himself up the ladder before he pauses, one last tingling sensation at the back of his neck. Instead of a sea of orange flight suits like his own, he could spot one spec of grey in the center of it, moving around aimlessly. 

‘It couldn't be…’

He hops off the ladder, walking cautiously closer.

Poe could never describe the feeling he had when he heard you call his name again. 

His legs break out into a sprint, weaving through the masses of pilots all cheering him on until he reaches you, out of breath, but a smile remained on his face. 

You look up at him, wide eyed as your hands reach for his arms. “Poe-” You begin, breathing quickly as your eyes scan over his face. He just smiles, drinking you in.

“What are you doing here? We're about to take off.” But his voice held no urgency, he would take however long you needed. 

Your throat constricts, your hands slowly dropping from his body. 

He was here.

He found you.

“Poe, I just, well, I wanted to tell you something-”

“You really ran out here, evading X-wings, just to tell me something? Careful, I may fall in love-”

His words were cut off by the sensation of your lips on his, kissing him urgently, your hands bunched up in the scratchy fabric of his suit as you yank him down to you.

Poe only needed two seconds before he grinned, wrapping an arm around your waist as he crushes you closer, angling your head back to deepen the kiss. Cheers erupt around you, but you don't care, only focused on your hands on his warm skin and the feeling of his hands holding you to his body. Poe pulls back, just enough for you to catch your breath, your noses rubbing together gently. 

“You alive, Doctor?”

You nod shakily, a smile breaking out on your face. Poe leans in once more, tenderly kissing you, his hand moving up to cup the back of your head. 

You never knew someone could taste so sweet, so intoxicating. 

You pull back, trying to even out your breathing. “That's all I wanted to tell you.” 

Poe smiles, running a thumb along your kiss swollen lips, “Thanks for telling me. I’ll see you when I get home.” He murmurs, leaning forward to place one last kiss on your forehead. 

You smile happily, waving as Poe makes his way up the ladder and into the cockpit of his X-wing. He waves back, grinning as he sets up for takeoff, trying his best to keep an eye on you as you are ushered off of the runway. There was no better way to start his missions now, he decided. 

---

Poe was gone for 6 days, and you were a nervous wreck. 

“He said it’d only take 3 or 4 days? What if something happened?” You ask your nurse, barely focused on the patient files before you. She just shrugs, patting your arm empathetically. “It's a rebellion, things can happen, but I’m sure Poe is fine, he's a strong boy.” She replies, but your heart is still thundering in your ears. 

How did other couples do this? This feeling of terror lurking at every corner? No communications, no idea if he was okay, it was debilitating. 

On the 8th day, you hear the familiar screech of X-wings nearby. You were in your home, trying to relax, but you jump up, racing out of your quarters to the runway. You wait, eyes wide as you count the number of X-wings, holding your breath until you realize two x-wings were missing. 

You wait with bated breath, those dark thoughts creeping their way up to your mind.

You wait among the masses of people, the crowd cheering as the pilots begin to exit their ships. It isn't until you notice a familiar orange droid hit the ground near the end of the runway.

You run.

You grin as you find yourself in the arms of this man, the one who has made you worry so much. 

“I told you I’d be home, didn't I?” He grins, and you can barely hold back the tears as you look up at his face, unmarred, uninjured.

“I was so worried, it took way longer than you said-”

“A few of my pilots were shot down, I had to go retrieve them and bring them to another rebel base on a nearby planet.” He explains, running a hand along your spine. You frown, a complaint on your lips before he presses his mouth to your, all worries fading away as you wrap your hands around his neck.

“Take me home, hm?” He murmurs against your neck, his hands splayed out along your lower back pulling you impossibly close to the hard contours of his body. You gasp as you feel him, all of him, his desire for you evident even now. You nod, smiling widely as you lean back up, taking his hand in your as you both begin the walk back to your quarters, laughing side by side, but you liked how he said it.

Taking him home. 

---

Your back hits the bed quickly, Poes body covering yours with urgency. 

“Fuck, I missed you-” He gasps, his hands entwined with yours as he pins you to the small bed. You moan, arching up against him, desperate for any friction. “Poe, please,” You beg, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer. Poe gasps, a shiver running through his body as he involuntarily thrusts against you, sending a delicious jolt of pleasure through you. “Fuck, baby, hold one I want to last-” He moans, dipping his head to your neck, biting down as a warning. 

You hadn't known pleasure like this, how much desire you felt for him. The way your body sang for him, and likewise the way you could send shivers down his spine with the slightest touch was intoxicating. You bite your lip, stifling down a moan. Poe leans up, smirking as he begins to shuck off his clothes, revealing his golden skin underneath. You sit up, watching him until your hands move to his chest, reveling in the new sensations of his bare skin on yours. He watches you, enjoying the pleasure this gives you. “You just gonna touch me all night, pretty girl?” He teases, taking one of your hands up to his lips, kissing your palm gently. You smile, nodding seriously, “I wouldn't be opposed, you're beautiful, Poe.” You wish you could photograph his face, the shy grin that spreads along his features. 

“Flirt.” He grins, lowering himself back down onto you, the weight of his body pushing you deeper into the mattress. He kisses and suckles along your neck, biting gently as he coaxes little moans and sighs from you. 

“Poe, my clothes-” You beg, but only get a few words out as his hand expertly flies to your top, removing it quickly as his lips attack the new expanse of skin. Your hand rests on his head, threading your fingers through his thick hair. 

Next was your bra.

Then your pants.

Until you both were before each other, utterly bare. Poe drags his hand along your thigh, stroking gently as you watch him. “So beautiful…” He murmurs, turning his head to look up at you. Your smile, this heat making your heart flutter with excitement. 

“How do you want me, sweetgirl?” He asks, kissing his way up your stomach, across your breasts, until he reaches your lips. You flush lightly, his forwardness so refreshing and new. He was yours, in every sense of the word. 

“I want to be on top.” You decide, and Poe smiles with the light of the sun. “Thank the maker.” He grins, flopping onto his back and settling himself against the headboard. You giggle as you crawl over him, watching the way his muscles flex as he anticipates your move. You had this power over him, only you.

You straddle his lap, the heat of him pressing hot to your core, causing you to moan out already. Your hands fall to his shoulders, and with ease, you slide yourself down until you are fully seated on him. Poe shudders, gasping as his head hangs forward, resting on your shoulder. “Fuck, sweet girl, you feel perfect.” He babbles, his hips already beginning to try and move. You smile, you hand cupping the back of his head gently as you place a kiss on the side of his head. 

“I’ll make you feel good, Poe.” You promise, carefully lifting yourself up and breakdown experimentally. The choked gasp he emits only makes you move more. Poe was always mouthy, but here, now, he was absolutely filthy. 

“Fuck baby, you feel so good, absolutely milking my cock, I’m already so close, fuck-” He spasms below you, his hands gripping your hips as he slams up into you. “Fuck-Poe-” You gasp out, trying to keep your pace as he moves himself to meet your thrusts. You could feel his hands bruising your skin, but you didn't care, you were utterly bewitched by the man here with you. You feel that twitch of his member inside you, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he moans louder. “I’m yours, Poe, please-” You gasp out, and Poe only growls as he bites down onto your shoulder, licking over the wound before he hisses out.

“No-fuck-I’m yours, sweet girl, only yours-”

His release erupts from him, his thrusts remaining deep inside of you as you feel your own release follow his, your body shaking and clenching around his. You collapse forward, falling into his arms as you both try to regain your breath. Poe doesn't even try to separate you, keeping you close in his arms as he settles down into your bed, your eyes growing heavy from exhaustion. 

“Poe?” You ask softly, looking up to his face. Poe opens one eye, looking down at you with a smile. “Yeah, pretty girl?” 

You bite your lip, running your hand along his chest. “I was just, really worried about you.”

Poe shakes his head, closing his eyes once more as he relaxes into your pillows. “I was fine, but I couldn't leave my crew, you know? I'm their leader.” You nod at his words, but you were surprised that the nagging feeling in your chest wasn't quelled. “I know, but you don't have to throw yourself into danger at every turn.” You say, and you watch as his eyes open with a frown as he turns to look at you. 

“I have to. I’m their leader, it's my duty to make sure everyone gets home safe.” 

“I know, it just, I see first hand these pilots, the aftermath of war. I don't want to show up one day and it's you laying there in that cot.” You admit to him, leaning forward to place a kiss onto his shoulder. “I know you need to keep your team safe, but just, don't be reckless.” You ask, looking up to his eyes, happy to see them softening at your words. 

Poe leans forward, brushing your hair back as he places a soft kiss to your lips. 

“I promise, I’ll do my best.”

And you believed him.

---

You and Poe dated happily for a few months now, becoming the famous couple of the rebellion. You were happy, undeniably so. Yet, that dark nagging feeling still lingered in your brain, and you knew it wouldn't last like this forever. 

You were worried, the first time he showed up in the medical bay after a mission.

“Had to fly back to collect data!” Is all he says, wincing as you apply a salve to his burns.

You were upset the second time he was in that cot, his foot swollen and his arm in a cast. “There was a family, I had to get them to cover!”

You were furious the third time Poe Dameron was in your medical bed, his head wrapped in bandages as he slept soundly. “A rogue blast nearly took out his entire X-wing.” His second in command told you. He didn't wake up for two days. 

It started to become constant, Poe’s acts of heroism turning into your worst nightmares. But this was what you signed up for wasn't it? Dating the hero of the rebellion? This continued on for another few years. Your patience waning as Poe continued to ignore your pleas, your murmured gasps against his skin as you lay with one another at night. 

“Please just stay, this one time?” You would beg, but Poe thought you only meant the night. 

It was eating away at you, the thought that every kiss you shared with Poe may be your last. 

Poe began to stay mainly with you, even having a small corner for his own items when he was at home with you. You loved it at first, being able to share every second with him in between missions and shifts at the medical unit. It became harder, when he would lay there injured, your inner professional making sure he was taking his medicine, or icing his sprains. 

It was even harder those days he would leave without saying anything, not wanting to hear your worries before his mission. 

You had even left him a note  once, asking him to resign from a mission due to your anniversary coming up. His second in command could lead, you hadn't had a date night in months.

He tucked the note away into his pocket, heading out to tell the crew how he would miss this mission. The General found him, imploring him to lead the mission, he was their only hope, he was like a son to her.

He left promptly and without complaint. 

It was becoming obvious, Poe loved his team, his crew, this rebellion. 

But he did not love you more than them. 

He could not. 

It ended on a day like any other.

You sat at your kitchen table, a warm cup in your hands as you sipped its contents slowly. You could hear his laugh through the hall, before hearing the rattle of his scan card and the door sliding open. He smiled widely, waving goodbye to the pilots who trailed behind him. He moved towards you, kissing your head swiftly as he began to undress, changing into his casual clothes.

“Poe?” You called out, turning yourself in your chair to watch him. He always stole your breath, his beautiful form, the kindness in his face.

It made this all so much harder. 

“Yeah, sweet girl?” He smiled, adjusting his necklace back under his shirt. The thin metal that held his mothers ring close to his heart.

Only you knew that, he told you once.

Would someone else know that one day?

Your eyes began to water, and Poe frowned, rushing over to cup your cheeks. 

“Hey now, what's wrong? I’m sorry my mission took so long, I tried to come home earlier but there was this-”

“That's it, there is always something else, Poe.” You sob out, shaking his hands off of your face. He stands there, stunned as you stand up, wiping furiously at your eyes. “All I’ve ever asked you was to not be reckless, but, every mission, I have to wait here, seeing if you make it back alive or not. All because you need to play the hero!” You cry out, your fists shaking at your side as you hold his gaze. Poe frowns, your words stabbing into his heart. 

“I’m the leader of this rebellion, I have a duty to these people-”

“But not to me?” You shoot back, crossing your arms in front of you defensively. “You love this rebellion, I know, you love these people, I do too, I just thought-” You choke on the words, the realization finally creeping in, “I just thought you loved me more, Poe.”

As you expected, Poe could not tell you otherwise. 

He leaves your room, his items carefully balanced in his arms as he exits, the door sliding closed behind him. He moves automatically, making his way back to his own quarters keeping himself together.

He simply smiles and shrugs when people ask where you are, why you haven't been seeing him off.

He keeps himself together when he asks to see a medic who isn't you.

He keeps it together, despite it all. Until he realizes one thing, months later. 

His biggest regret, he now realizes, is he did love you, more than all of it.

And he would never get to tell you that.

𝓓ISTANCE.

pairing : frank castle x fem!reader warnings : slightly suggestive, implied age gap, super light barely there angst, implied size diff, fluff, established relationship au, petnames summary : you miss your boyfriend more than anything, even though he’s currently sitting right next to you wc : 1.7k

the apartment felt too big, even with frank sitting just a few feet away. he was at the kitchen table, leaned back in one of the rickety chairs, his broad shoulders and solid frame making the furniture look almost laughably small. he was nursing a beer, gaze trained out the window like there was something out there worth watching.  

but you weren’t looking out the window. you were watching him, the way his forearm flexed when he tipped the bottle to his lips, the way his jaw ticked as he thought about whatever was running through that head of his.  

frank castle, in all his quiet intensity, was here. but for some reason, it felt like he wasn’t, and you hated it more than anything.

“are you all good over there?” you asked, breaking the silence.  

he didn’t turn to look at you, but his lips twitched at the sound of your voice. “yeah, baby, m’fine. just thinkin’.”  

“you’ve been thinking all day,” you mumbled begrudgingly, leaning against the couch and crossing your arms.  

this time, he did glance at you, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. “what’s wrong?”  

“nothing.” you bit your lip, shifting under his gaze, feeling the pout start to form on your lips. the truth was, you missed him - his touch, his warmth, the way he always made you feel so safe without even trying. but saying that out loud felt silly, especially when he was right there.  

frank, however, didn’t let much slide. “don’t look like nothin’,” he said, setting the bottle down and leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “you gonna tell me what’s goin’ on?”  

you hesitated, cheeks warming under his scrutiny. “it’s dumb.”  

“you know i don’t care if it’s dumb, sweetheart,” he said, his tone softening. “what‘s the matter?”  

you huffed, feeling a little ridiculous but knowing he wasn’t going to let it go. “i just… really miss you, i guess.”  

frank frowned, confusion flickering across his face. “miss me? i’m right here.”  

“i know,” you said quickly, looking away, feeling small under the weight of his gaze. “it’s stupid, i know. but it’s like… you’re here, but you’re not really here, you know?”  

he didn’t say anything right away, and the silence made you fidget. finally, he let out a quiet chuckle, the sound low and warm. “c’mere.”  

you blinked, looking back at him. “what?”  

“i said, c’mere,” he repeated, sitting back in his chair and holding out a hand. “if you miss me so much, then come over here, baby.”  

you felt your cheeks heat even more, but you didn’t hesitate. pushing yourself off the couch, you crossed the small space between you and slipped into his lap, your arms looping around his neck instinctively.  

frank’s hands settled on your hips, big and warm and steady, and you let out a quiet sigh of relief at the contact.  

“that better?” he asked, his voice teasing but gentle.  

“a little,” you admitted, resting your head against his shoulder.  

his chest rumbled with a quiet laugh, and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “needy little thing, aren’t you?”  

“maybe,” you mumbled, nuzzling closer.  

“it’s cute,” he said, his hands moving up and down your back in slow, soothing strokes. “you’re cute.”  

you tilted your head to look up at him, your heart fluttering at the softness in his gaze. “you think so?”  

“yeah,” he murmured, his lips twitching into a small smile. “damn adorable.”  

you felt a little ridiculous, sitting there in his lap, your arms tight around his neck like you couldn’t get close enough. but it didn’t matter. the way frank’s hands were soothing your back, the way he was looking at you, made everything else disappear. you weren’t aware of the world outside the two of you anymore, just the warmth of his chest beneath your cheek and the steady beat of his heart that you could feel through the thin fabric of his shirt.  

"so you really miss me, huh?" frank's voice was low, a bit rougher than usual, but there was no mocking in it. just something soft, something a little unexpected.  

you nodded, unable to say anything else. your fingers idly traced the line of his jaw, the stubble there a little rough against your touch. you could feel your heart race just being this close to him.  

“that’s cute,” frank murmured, his voice a little softer now as his hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer. "you know you're all i need, right?"  

“yeah, but you’re still so far away sometimes,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his neck as you settled against him more comfortably, your body fitting into his with an ease that surprised you.  

he tensed for a moment, but it wasn’t from discomfort. he just seemed… caught off guard by your neediness, the way it pulled at something inside him. you could feel his breath hitch when you nuzzled closer, the tip of your nose brushing his collarbone.  

“it’s not far away,” he said softly, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. “just been distracted, sweetheart. i’m here now.”  

you melted a little more at his words, your heart swelling. "i know."  

frank leaned down, pressing his lips against your temple in a gentle kiss that made everything inside you feel light and soft. his large hands moved again, this time running up your back before settling at the back of your neck, fingers gently threading through your hair.  

“you get all soft like this, and i can’t resist,” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.  

you laughed, the sound shaky but happy. “i’m not that soft.”  

“yeah, you are,” frank teased, his lips brushing against your jaw now as his fingers lightly massaged your scalp. “so damn cute. don’t know how you do it.”  

“do what?” you asked, your voice a little breathless from the closeness, the heat, the overwhelming affection in the air.  

“make me wanna kiss you all the time,” he said, the words soft but full of meaning. “make me wanna keep you close, make sure no one else gets the chance to take you from me.”  

you bit your lip, your hands sliding up to tug at the collar of his shirt, the movement a little desperate but filled with a need you couldn’t quite hide. “don’t want anyone else. just want you.”  

that made his chest rumble with a soft laugh, but this time, there was something undeniably tender in it. he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as he looked at you with that soft intensity you rarely saw.  

“good. ‘cause i’m not lettin’ anyone take you,” he said, his lips curling into a smile.  

you could feel the playful energy crackling between you, even as it was all wrapped in something softer, something more intimate. you weren’t entirely sure how you’d gone from missing him to practically begging for his touch, but it didn’t matter. all that mattered was that he was here, pulling you in even closer, his hands a warm anchor against you.  

“come here,” frank murmured, his lips brushing yours in the faintest of kisses. “let me show you how much i want you too.”  

without waiting for a response, he tilted his head, his mouth capturing yours in a deeper kiss, more forceful than before, but still tender. it felt like an anchor, like a reassurance that this - whatever this was between you - was real.  

you let yourself fall into it, your hands roaming down his chest, feeling the solid muscles beneath his shirt, your fingers tracing the lines of his body like it was the first time you were allowed to touch him.  

his hands slid down your back, his grip tightening just enough to pull you even closer, his body pressing against yours in a way that had your heart skipping a beat.  

“you sure you’re alright?” frank asked against your lips, his voice heavy with desire but still laced with concern.  

“yeah,” you breathed out, your fingers tugging at the waistband of his pants, the simple touch making him exhale sharply. “i’m more than alright now.”  

he smirked against your mouth, pulling back just slightly to look at you. “thought you were just missin’ me, not all... this,” he teased, his voice low, filled with amusement and affection.  

“missed you,” you confirmed, voice thick with the need you could no longer hide. “missed everything. all of you.”  

there was something about the way he looked at you then, like you were the only thing that mattered in that moment. and you didn’t care how needy you seemed, didn’t care about anything other than him.  

frank brushed a lock of hair out of your face, his fingers lingering along your jaw. “you’re somethin’ else,” he muttered, eyes soft as he looked down at you.  

you smiled, finally feeling the weight of his attention in the most perfect way. “only for you, frank.”  

his lips quirked up in that familiar, barely there smile, his hands pulling you in again. “damn right, sweetheart.”  

and just like that, you were lost in him again, caught up in the softness of his touch, the warmth of his embrace, the undeniable need to be close to each other - always.

ᰔ frank castle : @stvr-dust, @uncertified-doc

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

➤All the places that Matt Murdock loves to fuck you-

A/n: Matt is such a cutie

Matt Murdock isn’t a man who allows himself many indulgences. His life is filled with shadows, sacrifice, and the weight of the city pressing down on him. But when it comes to you—the quiet, kind-hearted nurse who’s softer than anyone in his world should be—he finds himself craving every part of you.

And while you turn warm so easily,squeaking under his touch, Matt learns quickly that once he gets you alone, there’s a fire beneath that shyness.

A fire only he gets to stoke.

1. His Apartment – Against the Bookshelf

✨:

It started innocently enough.

You had come over to check on his injuries—again. Despite knowing he heals fast, you had been adamant about making sure he wasn’t reckless.

Matt had been sitting on the edge of his couch, listening to your heartbeat flutter as you pressed gentle fingers to his ribs.

“You don’t have to—”

“Shut up and let me do this, Murdock,” you had mumbled, heart rate spiking

He smirked.

And then, something shifted.

Maybe it was the way your fingers lingered too long against his skin.

Maybe it was the way his own hands itched to touch you, to map out every inch of the woman who had become his quiet salvation.

Either way, the next thing you knew—Matt had pinned you against the bookshelf, lips devouring yours.

You had gasped, hands gripping his shoulders, and the sound had destroyed him.

He had lifted you easily—one hand beneath your thigh, the other bracing against the shelf behind you. The books dug into your back, but you didn’t care. Not when Matt was kissing you like that.

Desperate. Rough.

Like he had been starving for you.

And by the time you were both done, you were breathless, shaken, and laughing softly when he finally let you back down on shaky legs.

You two didn’t even bother fixing the books that had fallen to the floor.

2. Your Bedroom – With the Windows Open

✨:

Your apartment was small but warm—much like you.

And Matt had fallen in love with it.

Not just because it smelled like vanilla and the faintest hint of antiseptic, or because you had soft blankets everywhere (which he would never admit he loved).

No.

He loved it because it was yours.

And when he was in your bed, tangled in sheets that smelled like you, listening to you whisper his name, he felt like he could breathe.

One night, with the windows cracked open, letting the cool night air in, he had taken his time with you.

Letting his hands trace every inch of you soft, warm skin.Letting his mouth memorize every spot that made you whimper.

Letting you fall apart beneath him, whispering his name like a prayer.

And when you came apart on his fingers, your voice barely above a breath—the city outside had disappeared.

Because in that moment, it was just you and him.

3. His Office – On His Desk

✨:

It was a mistake.

You both knew it the second you walked in, wearing that damn dress.

Foggy had already gone home for the night. Karen had left too. It was just you both—you had stopped by to drop off something he had forgotten at your place.

But the second he heard your heartbeat spike—the second he smelled the faint scent of your shampoo, your perfume, the lingering traces of something sweet on your lips and the rustle of the fabric of your dress.

He had lost all control.

You had barely set down the folder before Matt had you pressed against his desk, your hands gripping his tie as you gasped into his mouth.

“Matt—”

“Tell me to stop,” he had murmured against your skin, trailing kisses down your neck, listening to the way your pulse fluttered.

You hadn’t.

Not when he had lifted you onto the desk, pushing papers aside.

Not when he had slid his hands beneath your dress, pulling a moan from your lips as his fingers brushed your core through your panties.

Not when he had taken you apart right there, in the very office where he fought so hard to be the “good man.”

Because around you—he didn’t always want to be good.

He just wanted you

4. The Rooftop – Under the Stars

✨:

You had never been a fan of rooftops.

They made you nervous, made you feel like one wrong step would send you plummeting.

But when Matt had pulled you up there one night, promising he wouldn’t let you fall, you had followed.

And somehow, sitting there with him, the city below wasn’t so scary.

You had leaned into his side, warm beneath his touch, whispering about your day, his scars, the things you two never told anyone else.

And maybe it was the intimacy of the moment.

Or maybe it was just Matt Murdock, the way he made you feel like you were the only thing in the world worth touching.

Because suddenly—his lips were on yours.

Slow. Gentle.

Not like before—not rough, not desperate.

But like a man who had finally come home.

And there, under the stars, with nothing but the wind against both of your skin and the city buzzing beneath you both, Matt made love to you like you were something sacred.

And for once, you believed him.

5. The Church – When it Shouldn’t Have happened

✨:

It had been wrong.

So very, very wrong.

Matt had been struggling—torn between his faith, his demons, his feelings for you.

And you had just wanted to comfort him.

But when he had pulled you into the dimly lit confessional, hands gripping your waist, breath hot against your ear, you had known that you both weren’t going to stop.

And you hadn’t.

He had touched you like he was searching for salvation.

Matt Murdock is not an easy man to love.

But you love him anyways. You love his scars, his sins, the way he worships you when no one is watching.

And no matter where you two are—

His apartment.

Your bed.

His office.

A rooftop.

Even a place that was meant for prayers, not sins.

You will always comes back to him.

And Matt?

Matt always lets you.

Because he loves you, more than life it's self.

Surprise.

Star wars men you will always be famous, i’m in love with them.

MAY THE FOURTH BE WITH YOU!!!! Created by George Lucas in/sp

— love language

chapter summary: You and Matt are now dating, but you haven't told anyone. How long will it take your friends to notice?

word count: 3.4k+

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

notes: i had this idea after writing goodnight n go (which is technically the first part, but you don't need to read it to understand this). anyways, here's a bunch of fluff

warnings/tags: after endgame but date is not specified, best friends to lovers, reader works at stark industries, matt is a cocky little shit, making out

Things moved on normally, the only thing that had changed in the past month was that you two weren’t just friends but dating.

You didn’t realize it, but you were already quite close to Matt.

Matt chuckled, his arm hooked around yours as the two of you waited in line for coffee. “Really?” He asked sarcastically.

“Ugh.” You elbowed him. “You’re an ass.”

“I’m just saying, what kinda friends have a toothbrush at their place?” He tapped his cane against the floor lightly.

You tilted your head. “Uhhh… pretty sure at one point Foggy had a toothbrush at your place.”

“That he never used other than one time.”

You scoffed, nudging his side again. "Still counts."

Matt smirked. "Does it?"

"Yes, because that means I’m not the weird one here. You just have a habit of letting people leave their stuff at your place."

Matt tilted his head slightly, feigning thoughtfulness. "Interesting theory. Except you’re the only person whose toothbrush has stayed."

You opened your mouth to argue, then paused, realizing he was right. "Okay, fine, but that’s only because—"

"You stay over all the time?"

You huffed, rolling your eyes. "You’re impossible."

"And yet, here you are," he teased, squeezing your arm lightly before stepping forward to order.

---

Foggy opened the door to Matt’s office. “Hey, did you ever finish the deposition for the Martin case?”

Matt put down the fork to his Pad Thai, leaving it in the Styrofoam container. “Yeah, I did.”

You took the opportunity, snatching the fork from his container and stealing a bite of his Pad Thai. Matt huffed, but you could hear the amusement in it.

"Really?" he murmured.

"You put it down," you said, chewing. "That means it's fair game."

Foggy barely glanced up from the papers in his hand. "She’s got a point, Matt. You know the rules."

Matt exhaled sharply, shaking his head as he blindly reached for the fork still in your grip. You dodged, keeping it out of his reach as you took another bite.

Foggy flipped a page. "Anyway, judge pushed the hearing back a week, which is good because it gives us time to go over the new witness statement. Karen’s taking a look at it now."

Matt hummed in acknowledgment, still trying to reclaim his fork. You smirked, shifting slightly in his lap. He retaliated by sliding an arm around your waist, pinning you in place.

"You gonna give that back?" he murmured.

"Maybe," you teased, holding it just out of reach.

Foggy sighed, still not looking up. "If you two devolve into a full-on fork battle, at least take it outside. I don’t need Pad Thai in the depositions."

Matt smirked, finally managing to grab the utensil from your grip. "Noted."

You huffed but didn’t move, resting your elbow on his shoulder instead. "Fine. I got what I wanted anyway."

Matt chuckled, shaking his head as he twirled the fork back into his food.

Foggy snapped the folder shut. "Alright, well, since you two seem busy, I’ll go see if Karen needs help."

"Let us know if you need anything," Matt said easily.

"Yeah, yeah," Foggy muttered, already halfway out the door.

---

Josie’s was loud and crowded as always, but at this point it was like a second home. You were telling Karen about an incident in the lab. “—Levi somehow hooks the string around the sprinkler and pulls. I get an alert on my tablet and rush over to the lab. Turns out, when he pulled the sprinkler, he also pulled part of the main water line. All for a tiny qubit that got stuck on the ceiling.”

Karen snorted, shaking her head. "Please tell me this guy got fired."

"Nope," you said, sipping your drink. "Because technically, it worked. The qubit came loose. He just, y’know… flooded half the floor in the process."

Karen groaned. "God, Stark Industries sounds like a nightmare sometimes."

"You have no idea," you muttered, setting your glass down.

As you kept talking, you felt your shirt strap slide down your shoulder. It wasn’t anything major, just a slight shift, but before you could adjust it yourself, Matt did it for you.

His hand found your shoulder with ease, fingers brushing your skin as he hooked the strap with two fingers and guided it back into place. It was quick, thoughtless, something he’d probably done a hundred times before without even realizing.

Karen barely blinked.

You didn’t think much of it either, continuing on. "Anyway, Levi tried to convince me it was an 'engineering breakthrough' and that 'technically' he proved a new method of remote retrieval—"

"You’re kidding," Karen deadpanned.

"Oh, I wish."

Matt smirked beside you, listening quietly. His arm was resting along the back of your chair, close but not overbearing.

Karen leaned forward, taking another sip of her drink. "So what’d you do?"

You grinned. "Told him if he ever did that again, I’d make sure the next thing he got stuck was his own head in the centrifuge."

Karen burst out laughing. "And let me guess—he immediately backed down."

"Pretty much," you said smugly.

Matt chuckled, shaking his head. "You really are terrifying sometimes."

"And yet, here you are," you teased, echoing the same words you’d said to him earlier that morning.

Matt tilted his head slightly, smirk deepening. "Guess I have a thing for danger."

Karen rolled her eyes but didn’t comment. She was too used to the way you two interacted, and nothing about tonight seemed different from any other night.

---

“You didn’t have to come.” Matt murmured, as your hands combed through his hair. “It’s just a mugging case.”

“And yet,” you pulled your hands away. “You were goin’ to walk in there with hair like that.” You gave him a grin. “I helped you devil boy. Oh, wait.”

You pulled his red-lensed glasses off before cleaning them with your shirt. Matt huffed, tilting his head slightly. "You know, most people don’t manhandle my things without permission."

"Most people aren’t me," you shot back, flipping the glasses open and sliding them back onto his face.

Matt’s lips twitched, but he didn’t argue.

Foggy sighed from beside you. "How do you two have time for this while standing outside a courtroom?"

Karen smirked, arms crossed. "Multitasking."

You grinned. "Exactly. I’m helping him and annoying him at the same time."

Matt let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "You really do take your job seriously."

"Obviously."

Before Foggy could reply, the courtroom doors opened, and the previous case let out, lawyers and reporters filing into the hallway. The four of you straightened slightly as Matt rolled his shoulders, settling into courtroom mode.

"Alright," Matt murmured, adjusting his tie. "Let’s get this over with."

You reached out instinctively, running a hand down the front of his suit, smoothing the fabric. "You’re good."

Matt caught your wrist before you could pull away, his thumb brushing over your pulse for just a second longer than necessary. “You going to stay?”

“Yep. I’ll be sittin’ in the front row looking pretty.”

Foggy snorted. "Sittin’ pretty? That’s your plan?"

"Someone’s gotta balance out Matt’s whole intimidating blind lawyer thing," you teased, adjusting your bag over your shoulder.

Matt smirked. "Intimidating, huh?"

"You know what you do," you muttered, patting his chest once before stepping back.

Karen chuckled, shaking her head. "Alright, let’s get in there before we miss the good part."

The courtroom was already filling up when you and Karen slipped into the front row, Matt and Foggy making their way to the bench. You crossed one leg over the other, leaning back slightly as you pulled your phone from your bag, muting notifications.

"You know, sometimes I forget you don’t actually work for them," Karen mused, watching as you settled in.

You glanced at her. "Why?"

Karen shrugged. "You’re here so often, always involved in their cases, bringing them food, making sure Matt doesn’t walk into court looking like he just crawled out of a dumpster—"

"Hey," you cut in. "I don’t make him look good. He just listens to me when I tell him to fix his tie."

Karen smirked, tilting her head. "Mhm."

You rolled your eyes, looking toward the front of the courtroom. Matt and Foggy were talking in hushed tones, Foggy flipping through a stack of papers while Matt leaned slightly toward him, nodding at something he said.

Karen was still watching you, but you ignored her.

The judge entered, and the room settled as the proceedings began.

---

The hearing wasn’t long, but it was long enough for you to notice Karen sneaking glances at you every so often. You didn’t say anything, keeping your focus on the case.

Matt and Foggy handled it well, as expected. You knew Matt’s confidence in the courtroom was unmatched, and even though you couldn’t see his eyes behind the red lenses, you knew he was completely locked in, analyzing every shift in the judge’s tone, every heartbeat in the room.

By the time the judge adjourned the hearing, you were stretching slightly, rolling your shoulders as you stood.

Matt and Foggy approached, gathering their things. "Well," Foggy said, stuffing papers into his briefcase. "That went about as well as it could’ve."

Matt hummed in agreement. "We should have a decision in a few days."

Karen exhaled. "That was exhausting to watch, so I can’t imagine how you two feel."

Matt smiled. "Used to it."

You reached out, fixing the fold of his pocket square before he could tuck his cane under his arm. "You did good."

Matt turned his head toward you slightly, smirk playing at his lips. "Yeah?"

You huffed. "Yeah, Murdock. Try not to look so smug about it."

Foggy raised a brow, gaze flickering between the two of you for a second. Karen, too, was watching, something unreadable in her expression.

Neither of them said anything.

"Alright," Foggy finally broke the silence, snapping his briefcase shut. "Lunch? Please? I need food after all that legal jargon."

"Agreed," Karen said.

You nodded. "Sounds good to me."

Matt tapped his cane against the floor once, falling into step beside you. Karen shot one last glance between the two of you but still said nothing.

---

You pulled out an expired container of milk. “Matty, I seriously don’t know how you, of all people, didn’t notice you had 2-week expired milk in your fridge.”

Matt smirked from where he was leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. "You think I make a habit of sniffing my milk cartons?"

You made a face, waving the expired container in his direction. "Considering you should be able to smell the rotting dairy in your fridge? Yeah, actually, I do."

Matt huffed a quiet laugh, stepping forward as you popped the lid open and took an experimental sniff—only to gag immediately.

"Jesus Christ," you muttered, shoving the carton at him. "Smell it. I dare you."

Matt wrinkled his nose, taking a slight step back. "I’ll pass."

"Uh-huh, that’s what I thought." You shut the carton and tossed it in the trash before opening the fridge again. "When’s the last time you actually bought groceries?"

Matt leaned against the counter, lips twitching. "Don’t know. You usually do it for me."

You shot him a look over your shoulder. "That’s not the win you think it is, Murdock."

"I don’t know," he murmured, stepping behind you, hands settling at your waist. "Feels like a win to me."

Your breath hitched as he leaned in slightly, lips brushing just behind your ear. You huffed, pushing him back lightly with your elbow. "No, you don’t get to distract me. Your fridge is a disaster."

Matt let out a quiet chuckle but didn’t let go entirely. "I’ve survived this long."

"Yeah, because I keep you alive," you muttered, pulling out a sad-looking bag of spinach and holding it up for him. "This? This is a crime."

Matt smirked. "Pretty sure I deal with actual crimes for a living."

"You’re so lucky you’re cute." You tossed the bag onto the counter with a sigh. "Alright, that’s it. We’re going grocery shopping."

"You say that like I have a choice."

"You don’t," you said, shutting the fridge and turning in his arms.

Matt smiled, fingers brushing over your hip before he dropped his hands. "At least let me buy you dinner after."

You narrowed your eyes playfully. "Bribing me with food?"

"Wouldn’t be the first time."

You rolled your eyes, but the smirk you tried to suppress still made its way onto your lips. "Fine. But you’re carrying all the bags."

"Deal," Matt murmured, reaching for his cane.

You grabbed your coat, glancing at him as he adjusted his watch. "And I’m making sure you don’t buy anything that will expire in two days."

Matt chuckled. "Now that’s just cruel."

---

The grocery store was relatively quiet for a Friday night, the kind of late-evening lull where the only customers were people grabbing last-minute dinner ingredients or, in Matt’s case, replacing an entire fridge’s worth of expired food.

You pushed the cart while Matt walked beside you, his hand resting lightly at the crook of your elbow. "Alright, first things first," you said, steering the cart toward the produce section. "You’re getting actual vegetables. Not just things that used to be vegetables before they died a slow, tragic death in your fridge."

Matt smirked. "I resent that."

"You resent having to eat vegetables," you shot back, picking up a head of lettuce and tossing it into the cart.

Matt tilted his head slightly, like he was considering. "That might be true."

You sighed dramatically. "It’s like taking a toddler shopping."

"You did sign up for this," Matt pointed out, casually trailing his fingers over the display of apples as he passed.

You side-eyed him. "Did I? I don’t remember agreeing to supervise you."

"You knew what you were getting into," he teased, reaching past you to grab an apple and setting it in the cart.

"Yeah, yeah," you muttered, adding a few more. "What else do you need? Other than everything."

Matt hummed, fingers tapping lightly against the handle of the cart. "Bread. Eggs. Coffee."

"Obviously," you muttered, already steering the cart in that direction.

As you walked, Matt’s hand slid from your elbow to your wrist, fingers idly tracing over your pulse before his hand found yours, linking your fingers together like it was nothing.

You squeezed his hand slightly. "If you think holding my hand is gonna distract me from making you buy actual groceries, you’re wrong."

Matt huffed a quiet laugh, thumb brushing over the back of your hand. "Worth a shot."

"Mm-hmm," you mused, scanning the shelves as you walked. You paused near the coffee aisle, reaching for a bag of Matt’s usual blend.

"That one’s good," Matt said, nodding toward it.

You smirked, holding up a different one just to mess with him. "What about this one?"

Matt tilted his head slightly, a smirk playing on his lips. "That one’s decaf."

Your lips parted in mock surprise. "Wow. Look at that. Guess you do pay attention to your groceries."

Matt exhaled a laugh, leaning in slightly. "I pay attention to you."

Your stomach flipped, but you covered it with an eye roll, tossing his usual coffee into the cart before dragging him toward the next aisle.

---

By the time you made it to the checkout, the cart was full. Probably more food than Matt had ever willingly bought for himself.

"You’re never gonna finish all this," he mused as you unloaded onto the conveyor belt.

"You will if you actually cook," you shot back. "And don’t tell me you can’t. I’ve seen you do it."

Matt smirked, handing the cashier his card before you could stop him. "Guess I have no choice now."

You squinted at him. "That sounds suspiciously like a challenge."

Matt tilted his head. "Maybe it is."

You grinned. "Alright, Murdock. Guess I’ll be the judge of whether or not you can actually cook."

Matt chuckled, grabbing the grocery bags as the cashier finished bagging them. "I did offer to buy you dinner."

You crossed your arms. "I thought we were talking restaurant dinner, not Murdock’s Mystery Kitchen dinner."

Matt smirked, shifting the bags in his hands. "I never specified."

You rolled your eyes but reached out, grabbing a couple of bags from him. "Fine. But if you burn anything, I’m taking over."

"Noted," Matt said, leaning in just slightly. "But I wouldn’t underestimate me, sweetheart."

You huffed, shoving a bag at him before walking toward the door. "We’ll see about that, devil boy."

---

“Where’s my shirt? You know, the soft blue one with a star embroidered on it?”

Matt, who was sitting on the couch, fingers tracing a braille legal document, tilted his head. “…Where are your clothes?”

“My—that’s what I’m asking you.” You replied, hands on your hips, leaning against his bedroom door.

Matt’s lips twitched, setting the braille document down on the coffee table. He turned his head slightly, his attention fully on you now. "You’re asking me where your clothes are?"

"Yes, Matty." You sighed, crossing your arms. "I took a shower, and now I can’t find my damn shirt. The soft blue one? The one with the star embroidered on it?"

Matt hummed, pushing himself up from the couch, his movements slow, deliberate. "And you think I did something with it?"

"You have a habit of stealing my clothes," you pointed out. "So yes, you’re my prime suspect."

Matt smirked, stepping toward you. "Interesting accusation, sweetheart."

You didn’t flinch as he closed the distance, his fingers barely brushing along your forearm, trailing up to your shoulder before settling against your jaw.

"You’re not wearing any clothes."

You rolled your eyes. "I am wearing clothes. Just not the ones I want."

Matt exhaled a quiet chuckle, tilting his head slightly. "Bra and underwear don’t count."

"Tell that to every guy who’s ever seen a Victoria’s Secret ad," you muttered.

Matt grinned. "Is that what this is? A show?"

You huffed, lightly swatting at his chest. "You’re impossible."

"And yet, here you are," he teased, echoing your words from earlier, his fingers still lazily tracing the edge of your jaw.

You narrowed your eyes but didn’t pull away. "Are you gonna help me find my shirt or not?"

Matt’s lips twitched. "I’m starting to think you just wanted an excuse to walk around like this."

You scoffed. "Matty, if I wanted to walk around half-naked in your apartment, I would. I don’t need an excuse."

Matt grinned. "Good to know."

You rolled your eyes, stepping back. "So are you gonna help or—"

Before you could finish, Matt turned toward his dresser, fingers trailing over the top before he grabbed something and held it out.

Your missing shirt.

Your jaw dropped. "You knew where it was this whole time?"

Matt shrugged. "You left it here last week. I thought it was mine."

You squinted at him. "Since when do you own a soft blue shirt with a star embroidered on it?"

Matt smirked. "I don’t, but you leave your stuff here so often, I figured it was fair game."

You snatched it from his hands. "Unbelievable."

Matt huffed a laugh, crossing his arms. "You gonna put it on, or do I get to keep enjoying the view?"

You shot him a look, but the heat in his voice sent something warm curling in your stomach. You turned away, slipping the shirt over your head, and when you glanced back, Matt was still smirking.

"Happy now?" you muttered.

Matt hummed, stepping closer again. "Not yet."

Before you could respond, he leaned in, catching your chin between his fingers before pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips.

When he pulled back, his smirk deepened. "Now I’m happy."

You scoffed, trying to ignore the way your heart was hammering in your chest. "You’re ridiculous."

"And you love it."

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue.

---

It was late at night when Matt convinced you to stay. Foggy and Karen were out of the office for the night, leaving just you and Matt doing your separate work.

The office was quiet, save for the occasional rustling of paper and the distant hum of the city outside.

You were perched on Matt’s couch, cross-legged, a set of blueprints spread across your lap while he sat at his desk, reading over a case file. Neither of you spoke, lost in your own work, but there was a comfortable ease to it.

"Are you even getting anything done over there?" Matt asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

You didn’t look up. "Are you?"

He hummed. "I was. Until I realized how unfair this is."

You sighed, already knowing where this was going. "What’s unfair, Matty?"

"You get to sit all comfy on my couch, while I’m stuck here, hard at work."

You snorted. "Hard at work, huh? I didn’t realize whining counted as work."

Matt pushed his chair back, standing slowly. "I think I deserve a break."

You barely glanced up. "Then take one. I’m actually doing something productive."

Matt made his way toward you, hands in his pockets. "Are you?"

You narrowed your eyes, lifting a brow. "Yes. Unlike some people, I have deadlines to meet."

Matt hummed, stepping in front of you. "And yet, you’re still here. With me."

"Because you asked me to stay," you reminded him, flipping a page. "You coerced me."

Matt smirked. "Did I?"

"Yes, you—hey!"

In one swift motion, Matt plucked the blueprints from your lap and set them aside. Before you could protest, he leaned down, hands bracketing your sides as he caged you against the couch.

"Take a break with me, angel," he murmured.

You exhaled, glaring up at him. "You are so—"

Whatever insult you had lined up died in your throat as Matt leaned in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your jaw. His lips brushed over your pulse, deliberate, teasing.

"Annoying?" he murmured.

You swallowed hard. "Distracting."

Matt grinned against your skin. "Mm. I’ll take that."

Your fingers curled around his tie, tugging slightly. "You are so lucky I like you."

Matt chuckled, dipping his head until his lips were just barely grazing yours. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

You closed the distance, kissing him properly.

Matt exhaled against your lips, deepening it immediately. His hands skimmed down your sides, gripping your waist as he pulled you flush against him. You barely noticed when he guided you backward, until the edge of his desk dug into your lower back.

"Matty," you murmured between kisses.

"Mm?"

"I thought we were taking a break."

"This is my break," he murmured, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your throat.

You huffed a quiet laugh, threading your fingers into his hair. "Productive."

Matt grinned against your skin, hands slipping under the hem of your shirt. "You’re the one distracting me, sweetheart."

You rolled your eyes but didn’t stop him, tilting your head slightly to give him better access. His lips trailed back up, capturing yours again in a kiss that left your head spinning.

Neither of you noticed the sound of the front door opening.

At least, you didn’t.

Matt either didn’t hear it, or—more likely—just didn’t care.

"Hey, Matt, I left my phone—"

Foggy’s voice cut through the air like a record scratch.

You froze.

Matt, however, barely reacted. His lips left yours just enough for him to let out a quiet sigh—like he was annoyed—before pressing one last kiss to your jaw.

"Should’ve knocked, Fog," he murmured.

Your entire body was on fire. You didn’t dare turn around. Foggy, for his part, just stood there. Silent. Karen was the one to break it. "Uh."

You exhaled sharply, tilting your head back against the desk. "Jesus Christ."

Matt still didn’t move. He just turned his head slightly in their direction. "You left your phone?"

Foggy blinked. "Yeah." A beat. "But now I kinda wanna leave it here forever."

Karen coughed, her voice tight with suppressed laughter. "Should we leave?"

You groaned, covering your face with your hands.

Matt just smirked. "You could, but I doubt you will."

Karen cleared her throat. "Y’know what? I suddenly really need a drink."

"Yeah, me too," Foggy muttered, grabbing his phone off the desk and speed walking toward the door.

Karen cast one last glance between the two of you, shaking her head before following. The second the door shut behind them, you finally shoved Matt away.

"You knew they were coming, didn’t you!?"

Matt grinned, shrugging. "You said it yourself—I have a habit of coercing you."

You gaped at him. "Murdock."

He just leaned in again, lips ghosting over your ear. "You gonna finish what you started, angel?"

Your face burned. "I started!?"

Matt chuckled, nudging his nose against yours.

"You’re impossible," you muttered, still flustered.

"And yet," Matt murmured, smirking, "here you are."

i love you, always and forever ࿐‧₊ rekindling

chapter summary: You and Logan celebrate your 5th wedding anniversary.

word count: 6.1k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: the ending of this chapter might be one of my favorite scenes

warnings/tags: reader wears glasses, mention of sickness (not reader), fluff, logan is a lovesick puppy, gala mission, star wars reference

series masterlist - chapter 8 → chapter 10

Some years ago, right after the two of you got engaged, you tried making and fermenting your own beer for Logan. Turns out, beer doesn’t need to and shouldn’t ferment for more than a few months at the most.

So, you pivoted, and made homemade whiskey, which had been sitting in a secret part of your lab for the better part of 5 years.

And now, after Logan had taken you out on a date to an Italian place and a nearby observatory which he booked for the two of you, you dragged him to your lab, where you had the bottle of homemade whiskey.

You pulled out a drawer and grabbed the small, but hefty, gift bag. Its weight made your arm dip slightly as you turned to face Logan, who was leaning against the counter in your lab with a quizzical but amused expression. His hair was still slightly tousled from the wind at the observatory, his sleeves rolled up casually from dinner.

"What's this, sweetheart?" he asked, nodding toward the bag. "Another one of your science experiments?"

You rolled your eyes, adjusting your glasses as you handed him the bag. "Just open it. And no, it’s not radioactive or alive. This one’s safe, I promise."

Logan smirked as he pulled the tissue paper out, revealing a dark amber glass bottle sealed with a simple cork. His eyebrows lifted in surprise as he held it up, reading the handwritten label: “Logan’s Reserve – 5-Year Aged Whiskey.”

"Wait a second…" His eyes narrowed, a grin spreading across his face as he looked at you. "Is this what I think it is?"

You nodded, clasping your hands behind your back nervously. "Yeah. Remember when I tried making beer for you right after we got engaged? And it… well, it exploded in the basement?"

Logan chuckled, the sound warm and rich. "How could I forget? Smelled like a brewery down there for weeks."

"Exactly. So, I switched gears and decided to try something a little more… sophisticated." You gestured to the bottle. "I distilled it, let it age, and hoped for the best. Five years later, here we are."

Logan stared at the bottle for a moment, then at you. His expression softened, the teasing glint in his eyes replaced by something deeper. "You did this… for me?"

You shrugged, feeling the blush creep up your cheeks. "Of course. I wanted to give you something special. Something that lasts, you know? Like… us."

For a moment, the room was silent except for the faint hum of the lab equipment. Logan set the bottle down carefully on the counter, then stepped toward you. His hands rested gently on your waist, pulling you closer.

"You’re somethin’ else, darlin’," he said, his voice low and full of affection. "Nobody’s ever done anything like this for me before."

You smiled up at him, your shyness melting away under his gaze. "Well, there’s a first time for everything."

He leaned down, brushing his lips against yours in a kiss that was soft but full of unspoken gratitude. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

"Let’s crack it open," he said with a grin. "I’ve waited five years for this, after all."

You laughed, grabbing two small glasses from a nearby shelf. As Logan uncorked the bottle, the rich aroma of aged whiskey filled the room. He poured a small amount into each glass, the amber liquid catching the light.

"To us," you said, raising your glass.

Logan clinked his glass against yours. "To five years… and many more."

You both took a sip, and Logan’s eyes widened slightly as he savored the taste. "Damn, sweetheart. You’ve outdone yourself. This is better than anything I’ve had in a bar."

You beamed. "Really?"

"Really." He leaned in and kissed you again, the whiskey still warm on his lips. "Best anniversary gift ever."

As you stood there, sharing the moment and the whiskey you’d poured your heart into, you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of contentment. Life hadn’t been easy—especially the past few years—but moments like this made it all worth it.

---

You were making chicken noodle soup for Rogue, Kitty, and Jubilee, who all somehow caught the same stomach bug at the same time.

The three girls sat at the table in the corner of the kitchen, after being asked by Logan to “move, or else you’re gonna get her sick.”

Now, while the three waited, they also watched. Rogue, Kitty, and Jubilee sat bundled in sweaters with mugs of tea that Logan had insisted they use instead of touching anything else in the kitchen. The soup was still simmering on the stove, and Logan leaned casually against the counter near you, your perpetual shadow.

Jubilee nudged Rogue with her elbow and whispered, “Look at him. He follows her like a freakin’ lost puppy.”

Rogue, pale but still managing an amused smirk, turned her attention to Logan, who was wordlessly following you as you shuffled over to the pantry. All you had done was mutter, "need a new bottle of parsley," and Logan had immediately fallen in line, watching you like you hung the moon.

“He does,” Rogue said, shaking her head. “I swear, I’ve never seen him this whipped.”

"Right? Like, what does she do to him?" Kitty chimed in, half-giggling despite her queasiness. “The man’s basically walking PDA.”

The three of them stared openly now, watching how Logan stood slightly behind you, his hand instinctively brushing the small of your back as you reached up for the spice jar.

“See that?” Kitty whispered, her voice thick with poorly stifled laughter. “His hand is always on her. Shoulder, back, waist—doesn’t matter where, just as long as he’s touching.”

“Bet he doesn’t even notice he’s doing it,” Rogue murmured, propping her chin on her palm.

You turned back toward the counter, glasses slipping slightly down the bridge of your nose as you set the parsley down near the cutting board. Logan was immediately there, adjusting the spice rack for you, though it wasn’t even askew.

“Thanks,” you murmured softly, giving him a small, shy smile.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he replied without hesitation, his voice laced with warmth.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard him sound that…” Jubilee paused, wrinkling her nose in thought, “...soft.”

Logan shifted closer, his hand brushing against your waist as he leaned in and glanced at the soup. “Need anythin’ else, darlin’?”

You glanced up at him, adjusting your glasses. “No, I think I’ve got it. Maybe grab a loaf of bread from the fridge for dipping?”

He nodded and moved toward the fridge like it was his life’s mission. Jubilee blinked slowly.

“He cooks now?” she whispered.

“Logan,” Rogue called across the room, “do you even know how to make soup?”

Logan didn’t even glance back as he grabbed the bread. “Nope. I just carry the bread. Y/N handles the rest.”

The three girls stared at each other, jaws slightly agape.

“He’s domesticated,” Kitty said in awe. “I didn’t think that was possible.”

You didn’t seem to hear any of this, far too focused on stirring the soup and rambling softly about the science of cooking. “The steam comes from the water molecules vibrating faster with the heat. They spread out, break apart from the surface tension…”

Logan’s low hum of acknowledgment interrupted you, his hand returning to rest lightly against the curve of your back. You leaned into the touch without thinking, comfortable in his presence.

Kitty let out a mock-dramatic sigh, dropping her head onto the table. “I can’t watch this anymore. It’s too cute, and I feel like death.”

Jubilee grinned slyly, glancing at Rogue. “What if we pointed it out to him?”

“Don’t you dare,” Rogue warned with a half-laugh. “Man’s happier than I’ve ever seen him. Leave ‘em be.”

The three shared a conspiratorial smirk but kept their remarks low enough to remain unnoticed. Even if Logan somehow picked up on their teasing with his hyper-sensitive senses, he showed no sign of it.

You turned back to the girls, smiling softly. “It’ll be ready soon. How’re you all feeling?”

“Like crap,” Jubilee said with zero hesitation.

“Marginally better,” Rogue offered, though it was mostly for your benefit.

“It helps watching Logan act like a lovesick Labrador,” Kitty muttered with a grin. Rogue elbowed her.

You glanced at Logan, eyebrows raised slightly. “What are they whispering about?”

“Not a clue,” he lied smoothly, focusing on slicing the bread.

You didn’t push it, simply chuckling and going back to your task. Logan leaned in closer, his lips brushing your ear.

“You’re good at takin’ care of everyone,” he murmured. “Never stops amazin’ me.”

You flushed under the quiet praise, your heart flipping in your chest. It wasn’t much—just one of his usual tender comments—but coming from Logan, it felt monumental every single time.

---

You paused walking again in the hall, adjusting your liner socks for your heels. Just a few months ago it was your birthday, and Scott got you the pair of heels you’d been wanting, probably only knowing about them from Jean.

It was too cold back then, but now it was warming up and you could finally wear them.

Other than the fact that blisters are probably forming on your feet from them fitting improperly. It wasn’t Scott’s fault; they were the right size and everything, they just didn’t fit your feet.

While you were bent down adjusting your heels in the hallway, Logan walked up behind you silently, his hand brushing gently against your back.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice low and concerned.

You looked up briefly before going back to fiddling with the strap on your shoe. “The heels Scott got me for my birthday—they don’t fit as well as I’d hoped. They’re a little tight, and I think I might’ve miscalculated how much walking I’d have to do today.”

Logan let out a soft, knowing grunt. Without warning, he scooped you up in his arms effortlessly, one arm around your shoulders and the other under your legs. He shifted your heels into his hand with the same movement, holding them beneath you like an afterthought.

“Logan!” you exclaimed, instinctively gripping his shoulders. “What are you doing?!”

“What does it look like?” he replied, already walking. “If the shoes are botherin’ you, you’re not gonna wear ‘em.”

You sighed, flustered. “I can walk perfectly fine! It’s not that bad, I promise.”

Logan didn’t even slow down. “Yeah, sure. Tell that to the blisters you’re about to get. Don’t argue, darlin’—you’re stuck with me now.”

Your protest was drowned out when Logan rounded a corner and found Scott mid-lecture in one of the training rooms. The students turned toward the two of you with wide-eyed curiosity.

“Logan, come on,” you whispered, mortified, but Logan only tightened his grip.

“Hey, Summers!” Logan barked, his voice cutting through the room.

Scott paused, looking up with an annoyed but inquisitive frown. Before he could say a word, Logan tossed the pair of heels directly at him. They smacked him square in the chest before falling into his hands.

“Next time, get the right size,” Logan said flatly, turning back toward the door.

“Logan!” you gasped, half-horrified and half-apologetic, your face heating up. “I’m so sorry, Scott!”

Scott was still standing there, stunned, holding the shoes as his class erupted into barely stifled laughter. “What—” he started, but Logan didn’t stick around long enough to let him finish.

Logan carried you straight to the common room, ignoring your continued protests. He set you down gently on the couch, crouching in front of you. “Stay put,” he commanded, already moving toward the med kit nearby.

“Logan, seriously, I’m fine—”

“You’ll be fine when I say you’re fine.” He popped open the first aid kit and returned to kneel in front of you. “Now, lemme see.”

You sighed, defeated, as Logan gingerly took your foot in his hand, inspecting the reddened spots on your heels. His touch was careful, almost reverent, as he applied adhesive bandages to the forming blisters.

“I don’t even feel it that much,” you muttered.

“Uh-huh,” Logan said dryly, not buying a word of it.

When he finished bandaging the other foot, he paused, still crouched with one of your feet resting on his knee. Instead of moving back, he began to gently knead the arch of your foot, his fingers deft and soothing.

“Logan…” You blinked, taken aback.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he said softly, not looking up. “You’re always takin’ care of everyone else. Lemme do somethin’ for you for once.”

The words, combined with the warmth in his tone, sent a wave of unexpected emotion through you. You leaned back against the couch, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. His touch was firm yet tender, every movement speaking volumes about how much he cared.

As his thumbs worked over a particularly sore spot, you bit back a laugh. “When did you learn how to do this?”

Logan glanced up with a hint of a smirk. “Long life. Picked up a few tricks here and there.”

“Pretty sure you’re better at this than a licensed professional.”

“Damn right I am,” he said with mock seriousness, though his smile softened.

When he finally set your foot down, he stayed kneeling for a moment longer, his hands lingering on your legs. “Feel better now?”

You smiled down at him, your cheeks warm. “Yeah. Thanks, Logan.”

He nodded, pushing himself to his feet and bending down to press a kiss to the top of your head. “Good. Now you just sit here and relax for a bit. I’ll grab you some tea or somethin’.”

As he walked away, you couldn’t help the affectionate smile that spread across your face. Moments like this reminded you that, despite his gruff exterior, Logan had a heart bigger than anyone you’d ever known.

---

You realized you should’ve told Logan this before he found out for himself.

For the past 4—5 years?—you hadn’t worn your cherry lip gloss, only because you couldn’t find it anywhere once you ran out. Turns out, it was discontinued. So, you pivoted to regular nude lip glosses or chapstick.

But this past weekend when you, Jean, and Ororo went on a girl’s shopping trip to the mall to hang out, you found a cherry lip oil that in your opinion had a better texture, and a less artificial flavor, than your original discontinued one.

The hallways of the mansion were buzzing with the usual mid-morning energy: students rushing to classes, a few sparring matches audible from the training rooms, and the faint hum of voices echoing off the walls. You adjusted the strap of your satchel, balancing it against your side, and smoothed the hem of your cardigan as you made your way toward your classroom.

As you turned a corner, Logan appeared from the opposite direction, walking toward his next class. He spotted you instantly, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips as his eyes softened. This was routine by now—a quick kiss or two between classes, a quiet moment to ground yourselves in a sea of chaos.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted, his voice low and rough in the way that made your heart flutter.

“Hey,” you smiled back, the warmth in his tone settling over you like a blanket.

He leaned in for the usual kiss, his hand brushing against your lower back as you tilted your face up to meet him. But instead of the brief, customary peck, Logan lingered. His lips pressed against yours with a sudden, deliberate intensity, and his other hand rose to cradle the back of your head.

You stiffened in surprise at first, but quickly melted into it, your hands lightly gripping the fabric of his flannel shirt. The kiss deepened, slow and consuming, with Logan angling your head slightly for better access. He tasted faintly of coffee, and the familiar warmth of him flooded your senses.

“Logan,” you managed to breathe out between kisses, your voice breaking the silence in short bursts. “We need—” kiss “to get—” kiss “to our—” kiss “classes.”

“Fuck, I missed that,” Logan murmured, his voice rough and filled with a longing you didn’t quite understand. Before you could respond, his lips captured yours again, his hold on you firm but careful, as though he was memorizing the moment.

The sound of a throat clearing broke through the haze, and you both froze. Turning your heads, you found Charles sitting in his wheelchair a few feet away, a bemused but patient expression on his face.

“I do hate to interrupt, but I believe there are a few dozen students waiting for their teachers at the moment,” Charles remarked, his tone light but pointed.

Heat rushed to your cheeks as you stepped back, adjusting your glasses and smoothing your hair. Logan, unfazed as ever, gave a small shrug, though you could see the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Right,” you stammered, gripping your satchel strap tightly. “Sorry, Charles. We were just—uh—”

“Testing the laws of attraction?” Charles quipped, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

Logan grunted, his hand still lingering on your back. “We’re goin’. Don’t get your wheels in a spin.”

Charles merely chuckled and rolled past, leaving you to shoot Logan a flustered glare.

“You could at least pretend to be embarrassed,” you muttered, adjusting your satchel again.

“Why?” Logan asked, his voice tinged with amusement. “You look cute when you’re all flustered.” He leaned in close, brushing a final kiss against your temple before stepping back. “See you later, darlin’.”

As he turned to walk away, you shook your head, a faint smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. You brushed your fingers over your lips, still tingling from the intensity of the kiss.

---

Logan adjusted the cufflinks of his tux, muttering under his breath about how "these damn things are more trouble than they’re worth." The sound of his grumbling carried through the slightly ajar bathroom door, making you smile as you finished touching up your lipstick. Jean’s red shade was bold, but it worked, complementing your minimalist black dress.

You capped the tube and gave your reflection a once-over. The dress fit perfectly, the sleek design emphasizing your figure without feeling over the top. You adjusted your glasses and smoothed a hand down the fabric before stepping out into the bedroom.

Logan was by the dresser, still fidgeting with his cufflinks, but the moment his eyes landed on you, his hands stilled. His lips parted slightly, the earlier irritation on his face melting into something softer, something almost reverent.

“You clean up nice,” he said, voice lower than usual. His gaze roamed over you, lingering on the curve of your waist before meeting your eyes. “Real nice.”

“Thanks,” you murmured, feeling a heat creep up your cheeks under his scrutiny. You crossed the room, and as you did, Logan closed the distance between you in two strides. His hand found your waist, warm and steady, before moving to rest gently against your stomach.

“Turn around for me,” he said, his voice a mix of request and command. His fingers pressed lightly, guiding you into a slow spin. As you moved, his hand never left you, sliding from your waist to the small of your back, then back to your waist again when you completed the turn.

“You’re somethin’ else, darlin’,” he said, his words filled with quiet admiration. “Should’ve made you wear this dress sooner.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile. “It’s not exactly standard mission gear.”

His other hand came up, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Maybe not, but you wear it better than anyone at that gala’s gonna.” His thumb grazed your jaw, and for a moment, the mission faded from your mind entirely. It was just you, Logan, and the soft pull of his presence.

You cleared your throat, forcing yourself back to reality. “We should get going. The sooner we get in, the sooner we can find what we’re looking for.”

Logan smirked, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “You’re the brains of this operation, sweetheart. Lead the way.”

---

The gala was held in a grand hotel in the heart of the city, the kind of place that practically dripped with wealth and excess. Chandeliers sparkled overhead, and the soft murmur of conversation filled the air, punctuated by the occasional clink of glasses. You and Logan entered arm-in-arm, blending seamlessly into the crowd of well-dressed elites.

The two of you moved with purpose, your fingers lightly resting against Logan’s arm as he guided you through the throng. You kept your movements casual, your faces relaxed, though beneath the surface, the tension of the mission buzzed like static. The target was somewhere in this room—or at least someone who knew how to access the server room where the sensitive information was being stored.

“Keep your eyes open,” Logan muttered under his breath, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

“Always,” you replied, offering a soft smile for the benefit of onlookers as you tilted your head toward him. “You see anything yet?”

“Just a bunch of rich assholes,” Logan said, his tone gruff. “No sign of the guy.”

You nodded subtly, letting your gaze sweep across the room. The gala attendees were exactly as you’d expected—wealthy, polished, and exuding an air of untouchable arrogance. The kind of people who could fund black-market experiments on mutants and still sleep soundly at night.

Jean’s voice crackled softly in your hidden earpiece. “Remember, the server room is two floors down, heavily guarded, and keycard access only. If you can get the host’s card, it’ll save us a lot of trouble.”

“Yeah, yeah, we got it,” Logan grunted, briefly touching his ear to acknowledge the message.

You gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll figure it out. Just follow my lead.”

Logan shot you a skeptical look, but the corner of his mouth lifted in a faint smirk. “You’re the brains, sweetheart. I’m just here to look good in a tux.”

“And to punch people if necessary,” you teased, your voice light despite the weight of the mission.

Logan chuckled, the sound low and warm. “That too.”

As you approached the bar, you caught sight of the host—a tall, broad-shouldered man with slicked-back hair and a predatory smile. He was surrounded by a small group of sycophants, his laugh too loud and his gestures exaggerated. On his lapel was the small, telltale glint of a security badge.

“There he is,” you murmured, leaning slightly into Logan as though sharing a private moment.

Logan followed your gaze and grunted in acknowledgment. “What’s the plan?”

You considered for a moment before replying. “We split up. I’ll distract him and see if I can get the keycard. You keep an eye on the exits in case things get messy.”

Logan’s hand tightened slightly on your waist. “Don’t get too close, darlin’.”

You smiled, the expression meant to reassure him. “I’ll be fine. Trust me.”

“I always do,” he said, his voice softer now.

With that, you slipped away from him, weaving through the crowd with ease. You approached the host with a disarming smile, your movements graceful and deliberate.

“Excuse me,” you said, your voice carrying just the right mix of politeness and charm. “This is my first time at one of these events. You wouldn’t happen to be the host, would you?”

The man’s eyes lit up as he turned his attention to you, his smile widening. “Indeed, I am. Samuel Kane, at your service.” He extended a hand, and you shook it lightly, careful not to show any hesitation.

“Y/N,” you introduced yourself, tilting your head slightly. “I’ve heard so much about you. It’s a pleasure to finally meet the man behind all of this.”

Kane laughed, clearly pleased by the flattery. “Well, I do my best to keep things interesting. And you, my dear, are an absolute vision. Your husband must be a lucky man.”

You felt a flicker of unease at the comment but maintained your composure. “He’s around here somewhere,” you said with a laugh. “But he’s not much for mingling.”

As you engaged Kane in conversation, you subtly shifted closer, angling yourself to get a better look at his security badge. The clip was loose, the badge slightly askew—a small detail, but one that worked in your favor.

Behind you, Logan lingered near the edge of the room, his sharp eyes never leaving you. He sipped his drink, outwardly relaxed, but you knew better. His tension was palpable, even from across the room.

Kane was still talking, his voice smooth and practiced, but you weren’t really listening. Instead, you focused on the timing, waiting for the perfect moment to make your move. When Kane turned slightly to greet another guest, you acted quickly, brushing against him just enough to unclip the badge without drawing attention.

“Oops,” you said, feigning a stumble as you steadied yourself against his arm. “Sorry about that. These heels aren’t the most practical.”

Kane laughed, clearly oblivious. “No harm done.”

You smiled apologetically before excusing yourself, slipping the badge into your clutch as you made your way back to Logan. He raised an eyebrow when you returned, his expression a mix of amusement and approval.

“Got it,” you whispered, holding up the badge for him to see.

Logan smirked. “That’s my girl.”

He slipped the badge into his jacket pocket, and the two of you began weaving through the crowd toward the hallway that led to the restricted areas. You kept a pleasant smile on your face, casually nodding at attendees as you passed. Beside you, Logan's body was tense, ready for a fight if it came to that.

Reaching the hallway, you slipped through the door labeled Authorized Personnel Only. Logan glanced back to make sure no one was following before pulling the door shut behind you.

The ambiance changed immediately, the buzz of the gala replaced by the hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional beep of security monitors. The luxurious carpet was gone, replaced by plain industrial tile.

“Where to, sweetheart?” Logan asked in a low voice.

“The server room’s at the end of the hall, on the left,” you whispered, nodding ahead.

Logan led the way, his posture relaxed but his hands loosely curled at his sides. You reached the server room without incident, and Logan swiped the badge through the reader. It flashed green with a soft beep, and the door clicked open.

Inside, the room was dimly lit, racks of servers glowing faintly with green and blue lights. You stepped in first, your eyes scanning for the console you needed. Logan followed, closing the door quietly behind him and planting himself by it.

“You do your thing. I’ll keep watch,” he said, his voice steady.

“Got it,” you replied, already making your way to the terminal in the corner.

Sitting down, you pulled a flash drive from your clutch and inserted it into the port. Typing quickly, you navigated through the system, bypassing firewalls and locating the files you needed. Jean’s earlier instructions echoed in your mind—what to look for, how to find it, how to pull it without alerting any alarms.

Logan’s voice broke the silence. “How’s it goin’, darlin’?”

“Almost there,” you murmured, biting your lip as a particularly stubborn firewall slowed your progress. After a few more keystrokes, the file began to download.

“I’m in,” you said softly. “Just need a few more seconds.”

Logan didn’t reply, but you could feel his sharp gaze fixed on the hallway outside, ready for anything.

The download finished with a soft ping, and you quickly ejected the flash drive, slipping it back into your clutch. As you stood and turned to Logan, his head jerked up slightly, his ears picking up on something you couldn’t hear.

“Guards,” he muttered. “Two of ’em, comin’ this way.”

Your mind raced. “Okay, uh… we can do what they did in that movie we watched the other night. You know, the spy one!”

Logan frowned, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “The hell you talkin’ about?”

“Logan,” you hissed, stepping closer to him. “We have to pretend we’re—” Before you could finish, you reached up, gripped his shirt, and tugged him down into a kiss.

Logan tensed for a split second before relaxing, his arms instinctively sliding around your waist. The kiss deepened quickly, his lips pressing against yours with a mixture of surprise and intensity. One of his hands rested at the small of your back while the other gently cradled the back of your head.

The sound of footsteps stopped just outside the server room.

“Hey!” one of the guards called out, his voice sharp.

You and Logan broke apart abruptly, panting softly as you both turned to face the guards. The red lipstick you’d meticulously applied was now smeared—not just on your face but faintly on Logan’s lips as well. One of the guards squinted, clearly caught off guard.

“This area’s off-limits,” the other guard barked.

Logan’s arm was still around your waist, and he stepped forward slightly, putting himself between you and the guards. “Sorry ’bout that. Thought we were sneakin’ off for some privacy. Didn’t realize we weren’t supposed to be here.” His voice was gravelly but calm, carrying just enough irritation to make the act believable.

The guards exchanged looks, then groaned in unison. “Just—get out of here,” the first one said. “Go back to the gala before we have to call someone.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Logan grumbled, steering you back down the hallway. He kept his hand at your back, a silent reassurance.

You stayed quiet until you were back near the main gala floor. When Logan finally looked down at you, his lips quirked into a sly grin.

“You’ve got some guts, darlin’,” he said, his voice filled with approval.

You laughed softly, still catching your breath. “You’ve got lipstick on your face.”

His grin widened as he rubbed his thumb against his mouth. “You sayin’ it’s not my color?”

“Not exactly,” you teased. “But it definitely makes a statement.”

He chuckled, slipping his hand into yours as the two of you rejoined the party, the flash drive safely tucked away.

---

Logan had given in, allowing you to finally trim his beard. You sat perched on the bathroom counter, knees brushing against his sides as he stood in front of you. His rugged face was in your hands, the razor gliding carefully over his jawline.

As you worked, you started rambling, like always when you were focused on something. “Did you know razors date back to the Bronze Age? They found tools that were basically sharp stones or metals people used to shave with. Imagine that—scraping your face with a rock.”

Logan gave a quiet, non-committal grunt, his eyes fixed somewhere in the middle distance.

You weren’t deterred, though. “Then in the 18th century, straight razors became popular. Those were sharp as hell, like something out of a horror movie. Then King Camp Gillette comes in and invents the safety razor in—Logan?”

You suddenly paused, pulling back the razor to wave your hand in front of his face. His eyes snapped up to yours, startled.

“What?” he rumbled.

“You weren’t listening,” you accused, narrowing your eyes at him.

“I was listening,” he argued, his voice dipping into a softer tone, almost playful. “Just… got distracted.”

You arched a brow. “By what?”

His gaze dropped, just slightly. His focus lingered for a second too long, and then it dawned on you. You glanced down and realized the problem. Since you were sitting on the counter, your chest was right at eye level for him.

“Oh my God,” you blurted, rolling your eyes as heat crept into your face. “Is that the only reason you agreed to let me do this?”

Logan’s lips curled into a small smirk, one that almost made you drop the razor. “Maybe,” he drawled, voice low and teasing. “I had a good view. Figured I’d let you have your fun.”

“You’re impossible,” you huffed, swatting at him lightly.

His chuckle was a quiet rumble in his chest, and for a moment, you couldn’t decide if you were more annoyed or charmed. Maybe both.

“Finish up, darlin’,” he said, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Can’t have half a beard. Not a good look for me.”

Shaking your head, you returned to your task, though the edges of your mouth tugged upward in a reluctant smile.

---

Later that day the two of you decided to watch a movie in the common room. The bowl of popcorn was already empty, thanks to Logan, but you were more than content to watch the new DVD Scott got you to replace the heels.

It was Star Wars: The Clone Wars: Season One, with director’s cut episodes, behind-the-scenes featurettes, and a few other things.

By the time the fifth episode came on, Logan had fallen asleep. His head rested face down against your stomach, his arm draped lazily over your waist, hanging off the edge of the couch. The quiet sound of his breathing filled the room, his broad shoulders rising and falling steadily.

You smiled down at him, your hands gently weaving through his hair. You couldn’t help but feel a certain tenderness as you sat there, watching the animated battle play out on the screen while he snored faintly against you. This was rare—Logan being so unguarded, so completely relaxed. It was a stark contrast to the usual gruff, sharp-witted man you saw most days.

For once, you were grateful he’d conked out. Not that you didn’t love spending time with him, but movie nights with Logan usually involved endless questions.

"Wait, who’s the green guy again?"

"What kind of idiot jumps into a fight with no backup?"

"So these clones just follow orders without asking questions? Sounds like bad programming."

Sometimes it was cute; other times, it was infuriating. Now, though? Peace. No commentary about Yoda’s battle strategies or sarcastic remarks about Anakin's life choices.

You shifted slightly to readjust, trying not to disturb him, though the weight of his head made it tricky. When you moved, he let out a small, contented grunt, his grip on your waist tightening just a little.

The scene switched to an intense lightsaber duel, and you caught yourself absently stroking Logan’s hair again. He groaned softly and nuzzled his face further into your stomach.

"Mm, warm," he mumbled, his voice gravelly, not quite awake.

"Logan," you whispered, shaking your head with an amused smile. "Are you seriously sleep-talking?"

"Not talkin'," he grunted, burying himself further against you like a sleepy dog finding the perfect napping spot.

"Uh-huh," you said, unable to suppress a laugh. Your fingers stilled for a moment, then continued combing gently through his thick hair. His faint snoring resumed, the small hitch in his breathing telling you he’d sunk back into whatever dreamland had him so quiet.

This—this was your Logan. The Logan who melted around you, softened in ways no one else ever saw. It made all the challenges—the struggles, the years of trying for a baby, the losses—feel worth enduring. You might not have everything you'd once wished for, but you had this. A quiet moment of contentment, wrapped in an old blanket on a threadbare couch, Logan safe and completely at ease in your arms.

For the first time in a long while, your heart didn’t ache for what could’ve been. Instead, you closed your eyes briefly and focused on the gentle weight of him, the comfort of his presence, and the sound of his steady breath.

When you opened them again, the episode was winding down. You grabbed the remote carefully, switching to the next before setting it down. Logan shifted again, his arm curling tighter around you.

“Y’can keep playing it,” he murmured groggily, not lifting his head.

"Thought you were asleep."

"I am," he muttered, eyes still closed.

"You mean you were," you teased.

"Same difference," he rumbled, the corner of his mouth tugging into a tiny smirk before he pressed closer. "Now stop talkin’. I’m comfortable."

You chuckled and let him settle again, absentmindedly tracing circles at the base of his neck. If this was Logan at peace, you couldn’t bring yourself to disturb him, not even for a galaxy far, far away.

that was 2010!

and i can't help but make a star wars reference whenever i can! especially a clone wars reference cause i'm a prequel girly... which is only because of anakin but-

if you don't like star wars literally just imagine anything else (no need to leave rude comments!)

THE MANDALORIAN CHAPTER 8: REDEMPTION