Star Wars Men You Will Always Be Famous, I’m In Love With Them.

i love you, always and forever ࿐‧₊ this is me trying

chapter summary: You and Logan try IVF.

word count: 5.9k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: another short chapter!? who am i? (also this gif is 😙🤌)

warnings/tags: reader wears glasses, fluff, angst, talks of fertility and pregnancy, smut, slight sub!logan unprotected piv, creampie, ghost hunting

series masterlist - chapter 7 → chapter 9

“—and we need to… Logan!” You exclaimed, breaking him out of whatever stupor he was in while staring at you.

You were explaining the new calendar you made that coincided with your IVF treatment, meaning no sex some days before retrieval and no sex some time after.

“Yeah, ‘m listening,” Logan repeated, his eyes flickering back to you like a magnet drawn to steel. He leaned lazily against the counter in your lab, but the faint smirk tugging at his lips betrayed his amusement—or distraction. Probably both.

You narrowed your eyes, tightening your grip on the whiteboard marker. "Then what did I just say?"

“You need to… no sex before, no sex after," he recited slowly, as if carefully testing each word to make sure it wouldn’t backfire.

“And?" You crossed your arms, one hand on your hip, the other holding the marker up like a teacher about to deliver a pop quiz. "Do you know why?"

Logan’s gaze swept over you, taking in the way you’d planted your feet and stuck a pen behind your ear in your 'professor mode.' “Because you’re ovulatin’ or somethin’? Or tryin’ not to? Hell, I don’t know what half this stuff means.”

You sighed, turning back to the giant whiteboard on the wall. It was cluttered with colorful timelines, reminders, and arrows pointing every which way, all carefully laid out for the IVF schedule. In hindsight, your meticulousness might have been a tad over the top, but you weren’t about to admit that now.

“It’s because we want to maximize the egg retrieval,” you explained, your tone firm but not unkind. “No sex three days before stimulation so it doesn’t mess with your—ugh, never mind. Just stick to the rules. I made this board so it’s clear.”

Behind you, Logan huffed, a warm, rumbling sound that made you turn sharply to find him grinning.

"What?" you asked, brow furrowing.

“You’re real cute when you’re like this,” he said, gesturing vaguely at you. "Hands on your hips, pen behind your ear—looks like you’re about to lecture me ‘bout quantum somethin’."

Your cheeks flushed instantly, but you steadied yourself, standing taller. “That’s because you’re not listening,” you fired back. "And I have been over this calendar twice. Maybe I should give you a quiz.”

Logan’s grin widened, his teeth flashing. “You gonna give me detention if I fail?"

Ignoring the heat rising to your face, you tilted your head in mock seriousness. “Wouldn’t you like that?”

“Dunno.” He shrugged, clearly enjoying this far more than he should. “Guess we’ll find out if I get somethin’ wrong.”

“Fine.” You capped the marker and tapped it against your hand like a gavel. "What’s the first thing you have to remember?”

Logan straightened slightly, locking eyes with you. “No sex three days before retrieval.”

You nodded, reluctantly impressed. “And after retrieval?”

“No sex for a week.”

“Why?” you pressed, though your voice lost some of its sternness.

“‘Cause it’s somethin’ about keepin’ the process steady—don’t wanna screw up your hormones or somethin’. You didn’t get this doctorate for me to screw it all up.”

You stared at him, unable to mask your surprise.

“Quit lookin’ at me like that,” he muttered, although his smug grin didn’t waver. “Just ‘cause I’m lookin’ at you doesn’t mean I’m not payin’ attention.”

Taking a second to compose yourself, you finally nodded. “Fine, you passed.”

“But what about my detention?” His smirk turned wolfish, leaning just a fraction closer.

You stumbled over your words. “Is this—ugh, is this one of your… you know?”

Logan raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "I don’t know, darlin’. What’re you talkin’ about?”

“You know!” you exclaimed, waving the pen for emphasis. “Your… fantasies or whatever it is you call them.”

His grin was practically sinful now. “Well, now it is.”

“Logan!”

“Relax, sweetheart.” His voice softened as he reached out to pluck the marker from your hand, setting it aside on the desk. His other hand slid to your hip, grounding you as he bent just low enough to kiss your forehead. "You’re doin’ great. And we’re gonna get through this—whiteboard rules and all."

You sighed, your tension easing slightly under his touch. “You’d better not fail me on this, Logan.”

“Never,” he said with an almost reverent sincerity, the teasing gleam in his eyes softened by something deeper. "You’re the one thing I’ve always been real good at keepin’ up with."

And damn it if he didn’t mean it.

---

Since today was the last day you could have sex before your retrieval in 4 days, you decided to surprise Logan. Though you weren’t sure if this was going to backfire on you or not, you thought you’d give it a try.

You had put on something that was the most stereotypical ‘teacher like’ outfit, a white button-up blouse, a black pencil skirt, and some small heels, and went through the regular motions of the school day.

Then, once classes were over, Logan came to your classroom instead of your office like you told him to earlier in the day.

Logan pushed the classroom door open, his shoulders broad and his hands stuffed into his jeans pockets. His gaze swept over the rows of empty desks before it landed on you. You were sitting at your desk, legs crossed, glasses perched on your nose, and a teasing little smile playing at your lips. The whiteboard still had the day’s lesson scrawled across it, but you weren’t thinking about teaching anymore.

“This where you wanted me?” Logan asked, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

You adjusted your glasses, standing up slowly. “Yes, Mr. Howlett. You’re late.”

His eyebrows lifted, the faintest smirk curling the corner of his mouth. “Didn’t know this was official business.”

“Sit down,” you instructed, gesturing toward your chair behind the desk. “You’ve got some rules to follow if you’re going to avoid detention.”

Logan chuckled under his breath but obeyed, sauntering over and lowering himself into the chair. He sprawled comfortably, his legs spread wide, making it look far too small for him. “Alright, darlin’. What’s next?”

You stepped around the desk, your heels clicking softly against the tiled floor. “First,” you began, fingers going to the buttons of your blouse, “you’re not allowed to touch me. At all.”

Logan’s eyes darkened, his smirk growing into a full grin. “That so?”

“Yes,” you said firmly, undoing the top button of your blouse. His gaze tracked the movement like a predator watching its prey. “You’re here to listen and behave. Understand?”

“Guess I’ll behave,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

You let the next few buttons fall open, revealing the delicate lace of your bra beneath. His sharp inhale didn’t go unnoticed, but he kept his hands firmly on the arms of the chair, his knuckles tightening as you slipped the blouse off your shoulders and let it fall to the floor.

“Good,” you said softly, stepping closer. “Stay just like that.”

You moved your hands to the zipper of your pencil skirt, tugging it down slowly. The fabric pooled at your feet, leaving you standing there in nothing but your bra, panties, and those heels. Logan’s jaw flexed, and you could see the restraint it was taking for him to stay still.

“You’re tryin’ to kill me,” he muttered, his voice strained.

“I told you, no touching,” you reminded him, leaning down just enough to place your hands on the arms of the chair, your face inches from his. “Think you can handle that?”

Logan’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, his gaze locked on yours. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, sweetheart.”

You straightened up, taking your time to slip onto his lap. His hands twitched against the armrests, but he didn’t move them, his breathing ragged as you settled yourself over him, the heat between your thighs pressing against the denim of his jeans.

“See? You’re doing great,” you teased, trailing your fingers along his jawline. He let out a low growl, but his hands stayed put.

“You’re evil,” he said, his voice thick with want.

“Maybe,” you replied, reaching between your bodies to undo his belt. His hips jerked slightly, but he stayed obedient, watching as you unzipped his jeans and pushed them down just enough to free him. He was already hard, and you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips.

“Not so evil now, huh?” Logan quipped, but his breath hitched as you slid your panties to the side, positioning yourself over him.

“Remember,” you whispered, lowering yourself slowly. “No touching.”

Logan let out a low curse, his head falling back against the chair as you took him in. His hands clenched the armrests tightly, the muscles in his forearms flexing with the effort of keeping them there.

“Darlin’, you’re killin’ me here,” he rasped, his voice rough and shaky.

You started to move, your hips rolling slowly against his. The friction sent shivers through your body, and you bit your lip to keep from crying out. Logan’s eyes were locked on yours, dark and hungry, but his hands didn’t budge.

“You’re so good at this,” you murmured, leaning forward to press a kiss to his jaw. He growled low in his throat, his self-control hanging by a thread.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he groaned, his hips bucking up into you. “How’m I supposed to just sit here?”

“Discipline,” you teased, your breath warm against his ear. “Isn’t that what detention’s all about?”

Logan let out a breathless laugh, the sound strained and desperate. “You’re enjoyin’ this way too much.”

You didn’t answer, your movements quickening as heat coiled low in your stomach. The sound of his ragged breathing filled the room, mingling with your own gasps. You could feel him trembling beneath you, his body taut with tension as he fought the urge to touch you.

“You’re amazing,” you whispered, your voice catching as your rhythm faltered. Logan’s eyes softened briefly, the teasing gleam replaced with something deeper.

“So are you,” he managed, his hands gripping the armrests so tightly you thought they might snap. “But I’m about to lose it here.”

You reached up to cup his face, your thumb brushing against his cheek. “Not yet,” you murmured, leaning in to kiss him softly. He groaned into your mouth, his restraint finally breaking as his hands left the armrests and gripped your hips, holding you firmly against him.

“That’s it,” he growled, guiding your movements now, his strength taking over. You gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as he set a brutal pace, his lips finding yours again in a kiss that was all heat and desperation.

The classroom faded away, the only thing that mattered was him—the way he filled you, the way he moved, the way he whispered your name like a prayer. And when you finally tumbled over the edge together, his arms wrapped tightly around you, you knew this was worth every moment of waiting.

Breathless and trembling, you rested your forehead against his, your glasses askew. “So much for following the rules,” you muttered, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Logan chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Rules are overrated anyway.”

---

“Honey, if you can’t do it, I can. It’s just a little needle.” You said, holding your hand out for the needle, a simple hormone injection that has to be done before the embryo transfer.

Logan stood a few feet away, the needle in his hand looking laughably small against his thick fingers. His jaw was tight, and his brows knitted together in a way that made him look like he was contemplating defusing a bomb instead of giving you a hormone injection.

“I can do it,” he said gruffly, though his eyes darted between the syringe and your exposed stomach like he didn’t quite believe himself.

You softened at his hesitation, lowering your hand. “It’s okay if you’re nervous. I can just—”

“I’m not nervous,” Logan interrupted quickly, his voice firm but not unkind. “I just don’t want to hurt you.”

A small smile tugged at your lips despite the situation. “Logan, I get stabbed with needles all the time. This is nothing.”

He shot you a look. “Not the same.”

You tilted your head, watching him as his eyes lingered on the syringe. His hands didn’t tremble—Logan was steady, always—but there was a vulnerability in his posture that made your heart ache. This was the same man who had faced armies, wars, and unimaginable pain, yet here he was, worried about causing you the smallest discomfort.

“Logan,” you said softly, reaching for his free hand. He let you take it, his rough palm engulfing yours. “You’re not going to hurt me. I trust you.”

His gaze flicked to yours, and for a moment, he just stared. Then, with a deep breath, he nodded. “Alright, darlin’. Let’s do this.”

You leaned back slightly on the edge of the couch, pulling up your shirt to expose your stomach. Logan crouched down in front of you, the syringe still in his hand. He studied the instructions you’d written out earlier—meticulous as always—before glancing back at you.

“This the spot?” he asked, his voice low and steady.

You nodded, resting a hand on his shoulder for support. “Right there.”

Logan’s hand hovered over your skin for a moment before he finally pressed the needle in with careful precision. It stung, but not enough to make you flinch. His gaze stayed fixed on the syringe, his focus unshakable as he slowly pushed the medication in.

“All done,” he murmured after a moment, pulling the needle away. He pressed a cotton ball gently against your skin, his hand lingering just a little longer than necessary. “That okay?”

“Perfect,” you assured him, your smile warm. “See? Told you it was nothing.”

Logan scoffed lightly as he stood, disposing of the syringe. “Didn’t feel like nothin’ to me.”

You reached for his hand again, pulling him back toward you. He let himself be guided, standing between your knees as you looked up at him. “You did great.”

His lips twitched into a small smile, but his eyes were still searching yours, as if looking for any sign that he might have done something wrong. When he found nothing but sincerity, he finally relaxed.

“You’re a hell of a lot braver than me, you know that?” he said, his voice soft.

You laughed, the sound light and genuine. “I don’t know about that. You’ve done way scarier things.”

“Not like this,” he murmured, his fingers brushing against your cheek. “This is new.”

You leaned into his touch, your hand covering his. “We’re in it together, Logan. Every step.”

He nodded, bending down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Together,” he echoed. “Always.”

For a moment, the weight of the last few years lifted, leaving just the two of you in the quiet. It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t easy, but it was enough. And that was all you needed.

---

“I think the mansion is haunted.” Rogue said. “There is no way ya haven’t heard the creakin’ in the night!”

Bobby rolled his eyes, “it’s probably just the AC or someone walking in the hallways.”

Kitty looked over at you as you graded things in your classroom. Though the three of them weren’t technically students anymore and had ‘graduated high school’, they still lived at the mansion because they were X-Men.

“Y/N, do you believe in ghosts?” Kitty asked.

You looked up from your papers, a red pen twirling idly in your fingers, as Kitty’s question hung in the air. The corners of your mouth twitched with curiosity at the way all three of them had their eyes fixed on you—Kitty looking earnest, Rogue mildly skeptical, and Bobby wearing his usual mask of rationality.

“Ghosts?” you echoed, tilting your head. “I don’t know if I’d call them ghosts, exactly.”

“That’s not a no,” Kitty pointed out, leaning forward on her desk as if your opinion held the weight of undeniable truth.

You tapped the pen against your chin thoughtfully. “There’s a theory,” you began, slipping into your natural cadence as a teacher, “about residual energy in spaces where intense events have happened. That energy could, in theory, manifest in ways that we interpret as paranormal.”

Kitty nodded enthusiastically while Rogue crossed her arms, clearly unsure. “What about creakin’ floorboards? That doesn’t sound like ‘residual energy.’”

“Well,” you conceded with a small smile, “this mansion is over a century old, and wood expands and contracts with changes in temperature.”

Bobby smirked. “Told you.”

Kitty huffed. “Yeah, but what about the piano playing by itself? Bobby doesn’t even believe me about that!”

“Probably one of the students pulling a prank,” Bobby retorted with a shrug.

“Or an actual ghost,” Kitty shot back, lifting her chin defiantly.

The sound of Logan clearing his throat from the doorway drew everyone’s attention. “What’re we talkin’ about?” he asked, stepping inside with his usual lazy saunter, his eyes cutting to you instinctively.

“Ghosts,” Rogue said flatly. “Kitty thinks the mansion’s haunted.”

Logan chuckled low in his chest, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. “Haunted, huh? Sounds like you kids’ve been watchin’ too many movies.”

“It’s not just movies!” Kitty protested, turning to him. “Y/N agrees there could be something! Residual energy or whatever.”

Logan’s gaze flicked to you, one eyebrow raising in question. You shrugged lightly, “how ‘bout this. We meet here at midnight and go ‘ghost hunting’. I’ll prove that it’s just residual energy so Rogue doesn’t have to be afraid anymore.”

“Ghost hunting, huh?” Logan drawled.

You shrugged lightly, capping your red pen. “Why not? Might as well settle this once and for all so Rogue can sleep without thinking she’ll get haunted.”

“Hey, I never said I was scared!” Rogue interjected quickly, her Southern drawl edging her words. “I just think there’s somethin’ weird goin’ on.”

Kitty grinned, nudging her playfully. “Sure, you’re not scared.”

Bobby leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “This is gonna be a waste of time. But fine, I’ll come. Someone’s gotta keep you all from freaking out over creaky floorboards.”

You pushed your glasses up, a small smirk playing at your lips. “Alright, it’s settled. Midnight. Bring whatever you think you’ll need—flashlights, cameras, whatever—and I’ll bring some equipment from the lab.”

Kitty’s eyes lit up. “Like an EMF detector? And maybe a thermometer?”

“Exactly,” you confirmed. “We’ll keep it scientific, not superstitious.”

Logan snorted softly, pushing off the doorway. “You’ve got this whole thing planned, don’t you?”

“I do,” you said simply, already mentally organizing the tools you’d need. “And you’re coming too.”

“Didn’t say I wasn’t,” Logan replied with a shrug. “Just think it’s funny how serious you’re takin’ this.”

Rogue shot him a look. “You’re not gonna ruin it for us, are ya?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Logan said with a smirk, but his eyes flicked back to you, his expression softening.

---

At exactly midnight, the group gathered in the classroom, flashlights in hand. Kitty and Rogue had brought a handheld camera and an audio recorder, while Bobby carried what looked like an oversized camping flashlight. You walked in with a small case of lab equipment, Logan trailing behind you like your ever-present shadow.

“Alright,” you said, setting the case on your desk and opening it. “We’ve got an EMF detector, a digital thermometer, and a few other tools to measure environmental changes. If there’s anything abnormal, we’ll catch it.”

Kitty practically bounced on her toes. “This is so cool. I feel like we’re in a movie.”

Logan crossed his arms, leaning casually against the desk. “Let’s hope it’s not the kind where everyone dies.”

“Logan,” you warned, giving him a pointed look.

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Just sayin’.”

You divided the equipment among the group, handing the thermometer to Kitty and the EMF detector to Rogue. “We’ll start in the east wing,” you said, adjusting your glasses. “That’s where Kitty said she heard the piano, right?”

Kitty nodded vigorously. “I swear, it was playing by itself.”

Logan’s lips twitched, but he said nothing, letting you take the lead as the group headed down the dimly lit hallway.

---

The east wing was quiet—eerily so. The air felt heavier, the old wood creaking beneath your feet as you moved through the corridor. Kitty had her camera rolling, and Rogue was carefully monitoring the EMF detector, though so far, it hadn’t picked up anything unusual.

“So, what’s this ‘residual energy’ thing you mentioned earlier?” Bobby asked, his voice cutting through the silence.

You glanced at him over your shoulder. “It’s the idea that strong emotions or events can leave an imprint on a place. It’s not a ghost in the traditional sense, but more like… a recording of something that happened before.”

“Like an echo,” Kitty added, her eyes wide.

“Exactly,” you said with a nod. “It’s one explanation for paranormal activity.”

“Or it’s just people imaginin’ things,” Logan muttered.

“Not helping,” you shot back, though your tone was more amused than annoyed.

The group reached the end of the hallway, where a grand piano sat in the corner of an old parlor. The room was bathed in shadows, the faint moonlight streaming through the large windows.

“This is it,” Kitty whispered, her camera trained on the piano.

Rogue glanced at the EMF detector, which remained stubbornly still. “Nothin’ so far.”

You stepped closer to the piano, pulling the thermometer from your pocket. The temperature was steady, no sudden drops or spikes that might indicate something unusual.

“Well?” Logan asked, his voice low.

“No signs of residual energy,” you said, your tone thoughtful. “But let’s—”

A sudden noise interrupted you—a faint, melodic note from the piano.

Everyone froze.

“What the hell?” Bobby muttered, his flashlight beam darting around the room.

Kitty clutched her camera tightly. “I told you! I told you it plays by itself!”

Logan straightened, his eyes narrowing as he stepped in front of you instinctively. “Alright, what’s goin’ on here?”

You moved closer to the piano, studying it carefully. “It could be the strings,” you murmured, leaning down to inspect the inner workings. “If they’re loose, they might vibrate on their own.”

“Or it’s a ghost,” Kitty said, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and excitement.

You glanced at her, adjusting your glasses. “Let’s not jump to conclusions just yet.”

Another note echoed through the room, this one softer, almost mournful.

Rogue’s grip on the EMF detector tightened. “It’s doin’ it again.”

Logan’s eyes darted around the room, his posture tense. “Alright, fun’s over. Let’s wrap this up before someone gets spooked.”

Kitty frowned. “But we just—”

“Logan’s right,” you said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. “We’ve got enough data to analyze. Let’s head back.”

Reluctantly, the group agreed, though Kitty and Rogue exchanged skeptical looks as you packed up the equipment. Logan stayed close to you, his protective instincts clearly on high alert.

As you walked back down the hallway, you couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder, half-expecting to hear another note. But the mansion remained silent, the mystery of the piano lingering in the air like an unsolved equation.

“Ghosts or not,” Logan murmured as the two of you trailed behind the others, “you’re braver than me for stickin’ your nose in somethin’ like this.”

You smiled softly, your fingers brushing against his. “It’s just science, Logan.”

“Whatever you say, darlin’,” he said, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and affection. “But if that piano starts chasin’ us, I’m not stickin’ around to fight it.”

---

Two weeks after the embryo transfer your pregnancy test came back negative.

You stared at the single line on the stick, your throat tight as the bathroom tile seemed to blur and shift under your feet. The tiny piece of plastic felt unbearably heavy in your hand. You’d tried so hard not to get your hopes up this time, to remind yourself that IVF wasn’t a guarantee. But after years of trying—after Clomid, after IUI, after the miscarriage—it had been nearly impossible not to hope.

Logan’s voice cut through your thoughts. “Sweetheart?” His knock was soft but insistent against the bathroom door. “You alright in there?”

You swallowed hard, blinking back the tears threatening to spill over. “Yeah,” you managed, though your voice sounded foreign even to your own ears. “I’ll be out in a sec.”

He didn’t push, but you knew he wouldn’t leave either. Logan never did when he thought you needed him.

You took a shaky breath and forced yourself to move. You wrapped the test in some tissue and tossed it into the trash, then splashed cold water on your face. When you opened the door, Logan was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his expression as steady as it always was—but there was a softness in his eyes that made your heart ache.

He didn’t say anything, just stepped closer and waited. You shook your head slightly, and that was all he needed. His arms were around you in an instant, holding you close as you buried your face in his chest. The tears came then, hot and fast, and he let you cry, his hand moving gently over your back.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out after a moment, your voice muffled against his shirt.

“Don’t,” he said firmly, pulling back just enough to look at you. His hands framed your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears on your cheeks. “Don’t you dare apologize for this.”

You tried to say something else, but the lump in your throat made it impossible. Logan didn’t press, just pulled you back into his arms and held you tighter, as if he could shield you from the weight of the disappointment pressing down on you both.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Logan stayed close, finding small ways to comfort you without making it obvious. He brewed your favorite tea, even though he always grumbled about the smell of chamomile. He didn’t say a word when you spent an hour re-organizing the bookshelf in the living room, one of your favorite ways to distract yourself when you didn’t want to think too hard. And when the two of you finally went to bed that night, he wrapped himself around you like he was trying to hold all the broken pieces together.

---

The next morning, Jean found you in the kitchen, staring blankly into your coffee mug. She didn’t need to ask how it went—your face told her everything she needed to know.

“Oh, Y/N,” she said softly, pulling out the chair next to you. “I’m so sorry.”

You forced a small smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “Thanks, Jean.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, her tone gentle but never pitying. It was one of the things you appreciated most about her—she never treated you like you were fragile, even when you felt like you might shatter.

You hesitated, then shrugged. “There’s not much to say. It didn’t work. Again.”

Jean reached across the table and squeezed your hand. “I know how hard this is,” she said. “But you’re allowed to feel whatever you’re feeling right now. You don’t have to hold it together all the time.”

Her words broke something loose in you, and before you knew it, you were spilling everything—the years of trying, the heartbreak of the miscarriage, the hope you’d tried so hard to suppress this time. Jean listened without interrupting, her hand a steady anchor in yours.

When you finally stopped, she gave your hand one last squeeze. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for,” she said. “And you’re not alone in this. Logan, me, everyone—we’re here for you.”

You nodded, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “Thanks, Jean.”

“Anytime,” she said with a small smile. “Now, how about I make us some breakfast? You look like you could use something other than coffee.”

You let her bustle around the kitchen, the simple, familiar act grounding you in a way you hadn’t realized you needed.

---

That evening, Logan found you in your shared office, your glasses perched on your nose as you stared at a stack of papers you weren’t really grading. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you for a moment before speaking.

“You don’t have to do this, y’know,” he said.

You looked up, frowning slightly. “Do what?”

“Act like everything’s fine,” he said, his voice low but steady. “It’s okay to feel like shit, darlin’. Hell, I feel like shit too.”

His honesty caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. Then, with a sigh, you took off your glasses and set them on the desk. “I just don’t know what else to do, Logan,” you admitted. “If I stop moving, I feel like I’ll fall apart.”

He crossed the room in a few strides, crouching in front of your chair so he could look you in the eye. “Then let me catch you,” he said simply.

You blinked, the tears welling up again despite your best efforts. “Logan—”

“I mean it,” he said, his hands resting gently on your knees. “You don’t have to do this alone. We’ll figure it out, one way or another. But right now, you don’t gotta be strong. Just let me be strong enough for the both of us, alright?”

You nodded, your voice too thick with emotion to respond. Logan stood, pulling you into his arms, and for the first time that day, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, you’d get through this. Together.

---

You and Jean had gone to see your fertility doctor, mostly for the two week check up since the embryo transfer.

When Jean drove the two of you back to the mansion, Dr. Harper’s words rang in your head, over and over.

“We can try again, but I’m going to be honest. My medical opinion is that continuing down this path may yield diminishing returns. That’s not to say there’s no hope—we absolutely could continue to try—but I want to make sure we’re balancing hope with your overall well-being. I know you are a person based on facts, and I’m sure you know that once you hit your early 30’s, your fertility starts to slowly decline. Given that you’re already having a hard time… the choice is yours.”

The truth was, you were getting older. Everything Dr. Harper said was true, and you hated that you couldn’t argue with her. If you hadn’t been able to get pregnant at 28, why would anything be different now? You stared out the car window, watching the trees blur together as Jean drove back to the mansion. Her presence was steady, calm, just like always, but you could feel her glancing at you every so often, as though trying to gauge whether you were on the verge of breaking.

“You’re quiet,” Jean said softly, breaking the silence.

You adjusted your glasses, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I’m just… processing.”

Jean nodded, her hands steady on the wheel. “Take your time.”

For a moment, the only sound was the hum of the engine. Then you sighed, resting your forehead against the window. “It’s just—what if it doesn’t happen, Jean? What if this is it? We’ve tried everything.”

Jean pulled into the driveway and put the car in park before turning to face you. “I can’t pretend to know how you’re feeling, Y/N. But you’re not alone in this. Logan loves you, and no matter what happens, that won’t change.”

Her words should have been comforting, and maybe they were, but they didn’t erase the ache in your chest. You gave her a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Thanks, Jean.”

She reached over, squeezing your hand. “You’re stronger than you think. And no matter what happens, I’m here for you.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath before stepping out of the car. The mansion loomed in front of you, its familiar silhouette both a comfort and a reminder of all the life happening inside its walls—life that felt so out of reach for you.

---

The evening was unusually quiet, with the kind of stillness that felt heavy rather than comforting. You sat in your office, papers scattered in front of you, though your focus was anywhere but on them. You twirled your pen absently, watching the slow circles it traced on the desktop.

Logan leaned in the doorway, his usual casual stance—arms crossed, shoulders slightly slouched—but his eyes were sharp, locked on you like he could see through the calm façade you were trying to maintain.

"You’ve been quiet all day, sweetheart," he said, his voice soft but steady. "Somethin’s eating at you."

You hesitated, chewing on your lower lip as you adjusted your glasses. "Logan, I…" You set the pen down, unable to meet his gaze. "I need to talk to you about something. It’s… it’s important."

That got him moving. He crossed the room in a few strides, crouching in front of you like he often did when he wanted your full attention. His hands settled gently on your knees, his thumbs brushing idle circles.

"Whatever it is," he said, his voice low and reassuring, "just tell me. You don’t have to go through it alone."

You took a deep breath, gathering the courage you didn’t feel. "I went to see Dr. Harper today," you began, forcing your eyes to meet his. "She said… she said we could keep trying if we want to, but the odds are getting lower. IVF isn’t working. She was honest with me—she said my chances aren’t great. And I know she’s right, Logan. I feel it every time."

His expression didn’t change, but you could see the flicker of something behind his eyes—hurt, maybe, or frustration. Not at you, but at the situation. He stayed silent, waiting for you to finish.

"I’m tired," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t know how much more I can take—physically or emotionally. But if you want to keep trying, we can. I… I just needed to tell you how I feel."

Logan was quiet for a moment, his hands still on your knees, grounding you. When he finally spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. "Darlin’, you’ve done more than anyone could ever expect. You’ve put yourself through hell tryin’ to make this work—for us. And if you’re sayin’ you’re ready to stop… then we stop."

Tears welled in your eyes, the lump in your throat making it hard to breathe. "You’re sure?"

He smiled softly, the kind of smile that was rare from him but filled with nothing but love. "I’m sure. What I want more than anything is for you to be okay. You’re all that matters to me—you always have been. Kids or no kids, that ain’t ever gonna change."

You broke then, leaning forward as he wrapped his arms around you. The tears came fast, but they weren’t all from sadness. There was relief, too—a heavy weight lifted from your shoulders after years of carrying it alone.

"I love you," you whispered, your voice breaking.

"I love you too," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. "And no matter what, we’ll get through this. Together."

The papers on your desk went forgotten as Logan pulled you closer, holding you in the kind of embrace that told you, without words, that you would always have him—and that was enough.

that is 2009!

i felt like after so many years of trying for a baby, it would get tiring with no progress. and even as a writer, i knew there was only so much i could write about them trying. but of course, we know they have gabby in the future, so don't worry about that!

writing is hard but coming up with a cunty title and catchy summary will slay even god's strongest soldier

— 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."

That fic you wrote?

The one about the ship no one else cares about, or the deeply unpopular character, or the extremely unusual AU?

The fic that got no comments or kudos when you posted it?

Months or years from now, that fic might be exactly what someone is looking for in the sea of fics about all the popular characters, ships, and AUs.

Your fic might be the only fic out there that has what someone is looking for. The only fic that scratches the itch that it turns out you and that reader share.

And that's awesome.

More Character Studies!!

Din Djarin + neon lights (The Mandalorian | Chapter 22: Guns for Hire)

so, uh... i've always thought about how logan is a thigh person and i haven't really written about it 'till i saw this post. and last night i just sat down and wrote this in one go because i was inspired. it's also a different style from what i normally do, but i hope y'all like it!

warnings/tags: fem!reader, thick thighs, fluff, thigh fucking, unprotected piv, oral (f!receiving), slight overstimulation

Logan loves every part of you, no matter who you are or how you look. But if you have thick thighs? He’s a goner.

He loves it when you wear leggings or anything that accentuates them.

If you choose to wear shorts or a skirt you always complain about them riding up and chafing, so he always has lotion and an extra pair of shorts (that are longer) even if you never wear them.

Logan’s hand will never leave your thigh if you’re sitting next to him. At dinner? Hand on thigh. In the common room? Hand on thigh. In the car? Hand. On. Thigh.

You were embarrassed at first when you wore skinny jeans—or anything pair of pants that made that awful swooshing sound.

Logan only noticed it because you would slow down in the hallway before resuming your normal pace before doing it all over again. Multiple times.

Logan doesn’t say anything at first, just watches you do that little shuffle-stop thing over and over. Then, after the fifth or sixth time, he huffs. "Darlin', what the hell are you doin’?"

You freeze mid-step, feeling heat crawl up your neck. "Nothing."

"Uh-huh." His gaze drops to your thighs, eyes narrowing. "S’yer jeans, ain’t it?"

You groan, throwing your head back. "They make that stupid noise!"

Logan smirks. "Yeah, I noticed. Cute."

You glare at him. "It's not cute. It’s annoying."

"Nah," he says, stepping closer, his voice dropping. "But know what is? The way those jeans hug ya." His hands—warm, rough, possessive—find your hips. "Don’t gotta be self-conscious, sugar. Just means I get t’hear ya comin’."

18+

Logan isn’t afraid to try something new in the bedroom, and you’re okay with experimenting. So when his cock brushed your already wet cunt but didn’t push in, you just thought he was going to tease you (again).

When his cock slides between your thighs, hot and hard, Logan lets out a low, satisfied growl. "Damn, sweetheart… told ya I love these thighs."

Your legs are over his shoulders, the muscles flexing as he moves, the slick glide of his cock between them making everything feel impossibly intimate. You can feel every pulse, every twitch, the heat of him pressing in close but not quite where you expected.

You let out a whine, shifting beneath him. "Logan—"

"Shh," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your knee. "Just relax, darlin’. Lemme enjoy this."

His rough hands grip your thighs, squeezing, kneading—appreciative, greedy. He loves the way they frame him, the way his cock slides through the tight press of your skin, the friction enough to drive him wild.

"You’re so warm," he mutters, voice thick with need. His thumbs stroke over your soft flesh, then press in, urging your thighs to tighten around him. "Fuck, that’s it."

You whimper when the tip of his cock drags over your clit with each slow thrust, the teasing, rhythmic pressure enough to have your toes curling.

"You feel that?" Logan smirks, eyes heavy-lidded as he watches your face. "Bet you love it, huh?"

Your breath hitches. "Y-yeah—"

"Good." His voice is rough, gravelly, dripping with satisfaction. "’Cause I could do this all night."

One hand slips down to cup the back of your knee, keeping your legs in place as he speeds up just enough to have you gasping.

"Logan—" Your fingers dig into the sheets, nails biting deep. "Please."

He groans, pressing forward until your thighs are flush against his abs, his cock still gliding between them, slick with both of you. "Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me so good, sweetheart."

And then—his lips on your skin, his teeth scraping, the sharp bite of them against your inner thigh making you jerk beneath him. He soothes the sting with his tongue, then chuckles at your reaction.

"Sensitive?" He smirks against your skin. "Gotta remember that."

You’re gasping now, fingers tangling in his hair as he mouths at your thigh, his breath hot and heavy. Every thrust of his hips sends sparks through you, your thighs slick and trembling against him.

And when he finally pulls back to look at you, pupils blown wide, breath ragged, he grins—slow, lazy, devastating.

"You’re gonna let me do this again," he murmurs, dragging his cock against you one last time before pulling back just enough to position himself. "Ain’tcha?"

You can’t even form words—you just nod, desperate, whimpering, thighs still trembling.

"Good girl," he growls, sinking into you at last.

And when he does fuck you, Logan's got you where he wants you—on your side, one leg hooked over his shoulder, the other pressed into the mattress beneath his weight. His hands grip the meat of your thigh, fingers sinking in as he uses it for leverage, each slow, deliberate thrust pressing you deeper into the sheets.

His breath is ragged, his voice rough against your skin. "Fuck, sugar… feel so damn good like this." His fingers tighten, spreading your leg just a little wider, just enough to make the drag of his cock that much deeper.

You let out a gasp, nails biting into his forearm. "Logan—"

He hums, lips brushing the soft inside of your knee. "Yeah, darlin’?" Like he doesn't know exactly what you want. Like he isn't already giving it to you.

The angle has you feeling everything—every thick inch of him sliding deep, every twitch, every pulse. You can’t do much more than whimper, thighs shaking as the pressure builds.

"S’what I thought." He smirks, dropping his head to nip at the tender skin of your thigh. "You’re all fuckin’ talk ‘til I’ve gotcha like this."

His thrusts pick up, the steady push and pull making the bed creak beneath you. His grip is bruising, his body all heat and muscle as he keeps you exactly where he wants you.

"Fuck, look atcha," he mutters, dragging his gaze over your body. "Spread open f’me, takin’ it so fuckin’ good." His hand drags over your thigh, palm rough, possessive, before squeezing. "Made for this, huh?"

Your breath hitches, the pleasure twisting tight in your belly.

Logan grins—slow, wicked. "Yeah, you are."

He fucks you like that for what feels like forever, keeping you right on the edge, dragging it out just to watch you squirm. The smirk on his face is nothing short of smug when your fingers tangle in his hair, desperate, needy.

"Logan, please—"

He groans, shifting his grip, his fingers pressing deep as he pulls your thigh up higher, pushing in until there’s no space left between you. "That’s it," he rasps. "Let me hear you, darlin’."

You whimper, arching beneath him, the new angle hitting something that makes your vision blur.

His voice drops lower, gravelly. "Mmm, bet that’s real good, huh?"

You don’t answer—can’t answer—not when he’s got you like this, not when every thrust has you unraveling beneath him.

When he finds himself between your legs, whether it’s you on your back or you sitting on his face, he can’t help but think that this is exactly where he wants to be.

If you’re on your back, Logan’s got your thighs pinned apart, hands pressing into the soft flesh like he’s got no intention of letting go. His grip is firm, possessive, like he’s staking his claim right then and there. "Fuckin’ perfect," he mutters, dragging his lips along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. "Could stay down here forever, darlin’."

He’s got a habit of teasing, dragging things out just to watch you squirm, but the second you thread your fingers through his hair and give the slightest tug? That’s it—he’s gone. He groans against you, rough and low, and then his tongue is on you, hot and unrelenting.

His stubble scratches against your skin, leaving the perfect mix of rough and soft, and when he catches the way your thighs start to tremble, he just tightens his grip. "Nah, sweetheart," he murmurs between slow, wet strokes. "Ain’t lettin’ you run from this."

And if you try to close your thighs around his head? Oh, he loves that. Growls into you, lets his fingers dig deeper into your flesh, holding you open despite the way you’re shaking. "That’s it," he groans, voice muffled against you. "Fuckin’ take it."

But when you’re on top of him? That’s a whole different kind of feral. He’s lying back, arms hooked around your thighs, keeping you exactly where he wants you. His gaze is heavy, dark with hunger as he watches you hover over him, breath hitching when you lower yourself down.

The second you settle against his mouth, Logan groans like he’s been starving for this. His grip tightens, fingers flexing against your thighs before dragging you down even further. "C’mon, sweetheart," he rasps against you, "lemme have it."

He lets you move at your own pace—at first. But it doesn’t take long before he gets impatient, before his hands tighten and his tongue flicks just right and suddenly, he’s guiding your hips, making you ride his mouth the way he wants.

The sounds he makes—fuck, they’re sinful. The low growls, the groans vibrating against you, the sharp inhales when you tug on his hair. He’s fucking obsessed, and he doesn’t care if you know it.

"Taste so damn good," he mutters between deep, deliberate strokes of his tongue. "Could do this all night, darlin’."

And if you try to pull away—too much, too intense—Logan just growls, arms tightening around your thighs to keep you exactly where you are. "Nope," he grits out. "You stay right there, sugar."

He’s relentless. Keeps going until you’re shaking, gasping, fingers tangling in his hair as you lose yourself against him. And even then, even after you’ve come undone, he presses a few more slow, teasing kisses against your sensitive skin, smirking when you whimper at the overstimulation.

"Mmm," he hums, finally pulling back just enough to look up at you, lips slick, eyes full of mischief. "Think I might be addicted."

don't ask what happened or why it's so long, 'cause i don't have an answer😂

i was on a roll (and possibly ovulating - what? who said that?)

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.

This was my first time writing a Poe x reader and I’m so happy you were able to enjoy it! Thank you for reading!!!

Crawlin' back to you

Maybe I’m too busy being yours, to fall for someone new.

Poe Dameron x f!reader

Rated M- 5.7k

Divider by @/saradika

tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI, use of nickname "Blue" for reader, strong language, physical fight (not with MMC), cheating (not by MMC or FMC), rival pilots, unprotected piv, cream pie, praise kink, yearning Poe, ass smacking, hair pulling, we love a reader in charge!

Authors Note: Hello! As I was writing this story, "We could be together, if you wanted to" has gained some traction, so thank you all for liking my work! This idea of a yearning and pining Poe hit me, so I had to make it happen. For context, in this story there are three squadrons with order importance, Black squad, Red Squadron and Blue Squadron. Black and Red squad work on high importance missions and are ranked 'higher' than Blue Squad, which leads you, dear reader, to the story! I hope you enjoy "Crawlin back to you" as it is spicier than the others, and I hope to update "On the run (with you)" soon! As usual, I haven't reread this, I just post and hope for the best. I hope you enjoy!

Thank you!

It was only meant to be a one time thing. 

A one time thing a month ago.

You gasp as Poe’s lips attach to yours with fervor, his tongue sliding parting your lips as his hands roam underneath your long sleeve. Your legs wrap around his waist tightly, making it oh so easy to arch yourself against the growing hardness in his pants as presses you harder into the wall of his room.

Allegedly, Poe Dameron never spent the night more than once with a lover. 

This was the third time this week you've met. 

He pulls back, gasping for air before his lips attach to your neck, licking and sucking that sweet spot below your ear so harshly you almost came on the spot. 

“Poe, wait-” 

He pulls back immediately, his lust darkened eyes meeting yours eagerly. “What is it, baby?” He hums, rubbing his thumbs on the soft skin of your thighs as he waits for, honestly, anything you want.

You smile, shaking your head as your hands thread through the soft curls on his head. This was a dangerous game, you realized. He was someone you couldn't have, no matter how addictive he was.

“I have a flight maneuver early tomorrow, I should head back to my room.” You reply back, letting your fingers drift towards the hot skin of his neck one final team before lowering them  to his chest, patting it gently. His hands gave you one last squeeze before he lowered you to the floor, taking a few seconds to pull your shirt down to where it normally sat. 

He was sweet.

It was dangerous.

Poe smiles softly, almost bashfully, “Wouldn't want you to miss out on sleep.” He agrees, but his hand still lingers on your waist. One word and you could have another night of pleasure.

You nod, gently stepping away from him and gathering your pants from off the floor, quickly stepping into them as you move around his room to collect your few belongings. “I promise I didn't come here just for this, I swear I had an actual question-” You begin to ramble, suddenly feeling the need to explain yourself, why you showed up so late. 

Maker, you have never acted like this before.

Poe shakes his head, moving to sit on his bed as he watches you move through his space. “It’s fine, I’m always glad to be of service to you.” He grins good naturedly, not a trace of sarcasm escaping him. You pause in front of him, mouth opening to say anything to relieve this tension between you both. 

You come up empty.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then.” You say softly, giving him a small wave, as if this man were just some regular pilot and not the man who gave you back to back orgasms just the night before. Poe chuckles softly, his head dropping forward before he begins to stand up, joining your side as you both move towards the door. 

“Sure, Blue.” He responds softly, and you can feel his hand lingering on the small of your back as you step out of his room, the sensation burning into your skin as his touch so often did. You turn around to face him, to try and explain the visit again, but his eyes are already locked onto yours and stealing any words you could have formed from your mouth. The air between you was thick, electricity striking your body with every noise coming from around you in the living quarters. Poe bites his lip as he raises a hand to your face as if to cup your cheek, the motion so quick you barely had time to close your eyes before a small flick hits the end of your noise.

You let out a shocked gasp as he laughs.“Be safe tomorrow, okay? Don't do anything stupid like you usually do when you get stressed.” The bedroom door slides to a close before your eyes even open again. A huff of irritation leaves your lips at his childishness, but you can't help the smile on your face as you take the long walk back to your own quarters. Even within your living space, there was no tie to the man. His room is filled with posters and plans strewn about his floors. The thick smell of cologne that almost seemed to hover like its own atmosphere. His room was so like him, warm, well lived, and well loved. Your room was bare boned. A bed and desk. Stacks of files for missions and maps coordinating future attacks organized by dates on your dining table. Straightlaced and to the point. This was who you both were. Two entities that orbited around one another but never should have met.

This was how it should have stayed.

The admired Black Squadron leader.

The calculated Blue Squadron leader.

The Blue Squadron was only a few achievements short of being on equal par with your fellow Squadrons. Poe and the Black Squadron were the primary team for any rebellion led missions, Red following as second in command. Today was your first chance of the year to prove to the general your squad was more than capable of handling complex missions, to be given the same opportunities as the Black and Red Squadrons. Your team was ready, you had been practicing for months now, and you felt it was now or never to prove to the rebellion what an asset Blue Squadron is.

And you blew it.

It was a standard attack formation, one you had prepped for so many times before. One you could do in your sleep. Your fingers moved robotically as you adjusted your coordinates, your team flying perfectly behind you. Your hand skims over the edge of the tiller, and before you realize it, your mind is drawn back into a memory of the other night.

Poe lying beneath you, his chest heaving as he bites his knuckles, your hand squeezing at his length with nervousness as you tried to sink yourself down onto him. “You couldnt mess this up if you tried, baby.” He had said to you, his hand resting on the back of your neck as you moved hesitantly against him. 

“I don't know, he didn't think I was good at this-” Your words are cut off as his lips sear into yours, his hand threading through your hair to crush your face to his. Your muffled gasp is replaced by a small moan as he sheaths himself into you, already hitting that sweet spot with ease.

“I dont give a fuck what he thought, youre perfect, Blue.” He had hissed, bucking his hips up harshly to draw out another whimper from you.”Say it.” Poe demands, gripping your hips as he plows into you from below, your hands holding onto his shoulders tightly as you nod.

“I’m perfect,” You whisper, trying to muffle your cries against his neck as the sound of your skin connecting reverberated through his quarters. Poe moans in encouragement and you have the desire to bottle up that sound for yourself. 

“Fuck yes, y-your perfect baby, so perfect for me-” He gasps, his thrusts becoming sloppy as his breath begins to come out in shorter spurts. Poe leans forward, pressing hot kisses along your chest, biting into the soft flesh of your breasts. You cry out louder, your climax nearing at a rapid pace as he pounds into you.

“P-Poe, please-”

“Please what baby, where do you want me?”

Another thrust has your vision darkening, a buzz sounding in your ear as he fucks into you harder. It was stupid. This wasn't meant to happen again. Not after the first time. But you were always a sucker for complexities. You brush your lips against his jaw, kissing messily along his skin before whispering into his ear.

“I want you to finish in me, I want you to be the first.”

If Poe wasn't gone before, he was now. His thrusts grew harsher, his fingers bruising your hips as he slams into you, mumbling incoherently. “Fuck, you want me to cum in you so bad, my perfect girl-” He groans, moving one of his hands to your slick folds to rub hard and fast against you. A sharp scream leaves your throat and you topple against his chest, your body pulsing around him tightly as you reach your orgasm. You can feel the last few thrusts before hot spurts coat your insides, Poe whimpering as his head falls against your shoulder, his back heaving as he tries to catch his breath. You tilt your head back. Your eyes glazed over with satisfaction as you both ride out your high together. You let out a little laugh and his hand quickly smacks your ass, Poe’s muffled voice coming from below you.

“I’m sensitive, you sadist.” He growls, and now you can't help the tumble of laughter pouring out from you. Poe lifted his head to glare up at you, but in that moment, your smile was so bright he couldn't help but chuckle along with you.

You shake the memory from your head, your squadron already approaching the final bend sooner than you anticipated.

“Focus, Blue, focus.” You whisper to yourself, watching your squad carefully as you begin your turn. It was sharp, but even a rookie could get through this, and you soar through it with ease. Next was more difficult, but you had practiced, you knew the formation like the back of your hand by now. You carefully lock your X-wing in, breathing out slowly as you wait for the harsher turn. The mind was always so fickle, that's why you preferred equations and plans. You could feel yourself slipping back into that same memory, a heat pooling in your lower belly. Then you hear that maker's damned voice once more.

“One more baby, give me one more.-”

“My sweet girl, taking me so perfectly-”

“I could stay in you forever-”

A hard jolt shoved you deeper into your seat, your X-wing began losing altitude. Your squad's voices blaring through your comms, overwhelming your mind as you tried to straighten your ship. 

“Squad leader-”

“You’ve been hit!”

“Land now-”

And as if your ego couldn't take enough of it, that same voice from your mind rings out, but this time unfortunately through your headset like the others.

“What the hell are you doing, Blue?!”

Your teeth grind together as you pull yourself back into place, barely registering the sound of the flight tower calling your squadron back to base. Everyone was down there. Everyone had seen. 

Cold sweat began to drip down your neck as you carefully took the time to land your X-wing, mechanics quickly running over to assess the damage to the outside exterior. You huff as you climb down the ladder, shaking your hair out of your hemet and relishing in the open air as you struggle to take deep breaths. You can hear your crew clambering to get to you, and you can hear their questions already.

What happened?

What happened?

What happened?

“Blue, what happened?”

Your eyes snap up to meet those soft brown ones you had come to know so well. Poe was gripping your shoulders tightly, his fingers digging into you whether he noticed or not. Your relief at seeing him was short lived as you remembered just why you crashed. 

“I’m fine, Dameron.” You snap, shaking his hands off of you. Poe looks at you first with worry, then agitation. 

“Obviously you're not fine, Blue. You could do this course in your sleep and you crashed!” He hisses, clenching his hands at his side. You frown, and begin to respond before another set of hands grip your shoulder. You only needed one look at Poe's glowering face to know who it was. One you had done so well at avoiding until now.

Red One.

Poe's second in command.

“Hey, what happened up there? You okay?” He asks quickly, his eyes raking over your appearance.You force a smile, brushing him off with ease. 

“Honest mistake, I was-” Your eyes flickered to Poes before returning to the helmet in your hand, “I was just distracted was all.” 

Red One was born on a planet near yours, the commonality making you both acquaintances in flight school. You both studied vigorously, and desired high marks, yet somehow both of you were always beaten by the one named Poe Dameron. The three of you grew and eventually joined the rebellion, him and Dameron taking over the Black and Red Squadron while you were assigned Blue. Despite the large amount of rebellion members, it was easy for you to drift back to him, the reassurance of something familiar in your life. While Poe was off gallivanting with his squadron across the galaxy, you both worked together on unit tactics. It wasn't long before you both began to reach for one another, quick meaningless acts of pleasure when it was needed. It was easy for it to mean nothing to you, because you both knew this wasn't forever, but at least you had one another.

It worked then.

Until Poe came around again. 

Poe was always smart, but he was also warm, and charismatic. People were drawn to him like the sun, wanting a chance to feel that splendor for themselves. Despite the fact everyone wanted to be around him, after a recent 5 month journey he had decided to follow only you around aimlessly. 

“Dameron, don't you have someone else to bother?” You muttered, clutching new plans from the general tightly to your chest. Poe walked behind you with a grin, his hands carelessly tucked into his jacket pockets as he kept up with you.

“When was it a rule that I couldn't spend time with a fellow squadron leader?” He retorts, gently nudging your shoulder with his own. You let out an exhausted sigh, rounding the hallway corner into the row of living quarters right before yours. Maybe you thought you could evade him, you weren't sure, but what you didn't expect was the door nearest you to slide open with a smooth hiss, giving you a clear look into the room. You stop so abruptly Poe barely had time to avoid colliding with your back. 

“What the fuck, Blue-” He complains before glancing down to your face. Your eyes stared blankly into the room, one you had become very familiar with over the years.

Red One’s, now occupied by the pilot himself and a mechanic you recognized from the Droid depot, clothes littering the floor as they cling to each other near the door. Red One's eyes widen and he curses, fumbling around to slip back into his flight suit. 

Now normally, Poe would make a sly comment, or laugh off the awkwardness with ease. But he couldn't. Not when he saw the expression you were making. Despite his games and jokes, he knew you well. Poes fist tightened as he stalked into the room, shoving Red One back a step. “Now, why the fuck would you do this?” He growls darkly, his brown eyes darkening with rage. You weren't sure if you have ever seen Poe like this, not even after a failed mission. Poe never resorted to violence. Never.

You move quickly, stumbling forward to grab onto his arm, tugging him back. “It's fine Poe, it's not that serious-”

“Not that serious? He had the best damn pilot in the rebellion and it wasn't serious to him?” His words make you pause, heat rushing to your cheeks as you tighten your hand on Poe's arm, giving him one last tug. 

“Blue, I can explain-”

“It's fine Red, we're going now.” You respond calmly, carefully dragging Poe out of the room until the door can slide shut. Poe tugs you along swiftly moving down hall after hall until you recognize the path to your own living space. Your hand was still on Poe’s arm, and you could feel his body shaking underneath. 

“Poe, it’s fine-” 

“How long were you two together?” He asks, his tone softer now than it was previously. You glanced up at him, his brown eyes soft once more as they bore down into your own. You blink quickly, thinking of just how many months it had been. 

“Since our first mission to Nevarro.” You answer honestly, and you don't know what to think about the string of curses that leave his lips. “Why does it matter, Poe? It was just a fling-”

“Was it just a fling to you?” He asks suddenly, his gaze hot and piercing. You try to answer, to conjure up some response, but all you can do is shake your head. “We both got what he wanted, and I'm actually surprised he waited this long to find someone else.”

 The look of anger that flashes across his face has your brows furrowing, unsure of why it bothered him so deeply. You open your mouth to speak again before Poe lets out a deep sigh, turning to face you fully as his back rests against the metal wall. His hand reaches up slowly, gently touching the soft skin of your cheek. 

“Still, are you okay?” He asks in a gravelled tone, continuing to stroke your skin with small movements. His touch was far different from Reds, you quickly realized. Red touched you briskly, his hand roaming over your body as if you would disappear. 

Poe touched you with reverence. He kept his movements small, keeping contact with your skin as if you were his center of gravity. “He's an idiot, Blue, you can do so much better than him. He can't even coordinate a landing path to Jakku without using a droid.” A surprised laugh tumbles past your lips, pleasing Poe as he stares down at you. 

“And you can't fly a straight shot to Crait even if you tried.” You shoot back, a smile still tugging at your lips. Poe’s eyes soften as you laugh before him, your usual icy exterior melting away to that young pilot he once knew so many years ago. He takes a breath, biting his lip before he speaks in a soft whisper. “I would have made you my second, if it was my choice.”

You can't control the deep flush that rush to your cheeks as you hear him. “Red is a good second in command, I still have a lot to learn-”

“You think I don't know who drafts our tactile formations? I could practically see you solving the broken flight patterns while reading them.” His voice grows more firm, demanding you to accept his praise. “I can only be a good leader with someone like you supporting me, and I'm sorry they don't realize it yet.” 

You don't cry. You don’t even cry as Poe leans in closer to you, his hand cupping your cheek as he coos words of praise to you in the dimly lit hallway. Red never acknowledged the work you did, smooth talking his way into putting his name on the plans alongside yours. You would shrug it off, under the impression if one Squadron succeeds surely the other would too. This never changed even when he began to take more missions farther out into the galaxy, while you and your squad stayed back, waiting for the chance to chart your own paths.

The truth now laid out so plainly in front of you.

You had been used.

What did you want? Had you wanted Red to choose you? Only you? Did you ever even think you would have options?

Your hands tighten into fists, sharp pain shooting through your hands. Poe pulls back with a lazy smile on his face, but it quickly falters as he sees the scowl etched onto your face. “Hey what's wrong Blue, did I overstep? I’m sorry-”

“I want you to fuck me.”

Poe's mouth hangs open as your words hit his ears, sending palpitations straight to his chest. “You want me to…”

“I want you to fuck me, yes.”

Poe can't help but chuckle as he shakes his head, his hand covering his face as he inhales deeply. “You don't want that, Blue, you're just mad and understandably so-”

“I am choosing this, Poe Dameron, I am choosing you to make me feel something. I know it's just a one time thing with you, I want one night”

Well, now this was an interesting statement. 

This he could work with. 

Poe tries to quell the smile tugging at his lips as he leans back, knocking his fingers on the cool metal wall as if it could cool down the heat racing through him. “Just one? I'm afraid you'll end up wanting more, Blue.” He murmurs, taking the chance to glance back down at you. Your eyes meet his, fiery and unwavering. Maker, you meant it. Poe tried to stifle the groan threatening to spill out of him.

“One night, I just want one night.” You promise, stepping in even closer to him. With one deep breath, your chest would rub against his, and you tried to ignore the shaky breaths emitting from the man before you. 

“But I want to set some ground rules first.” You say in a soft voice, moving your hand so it begins to trail up his arm. Poe can only nod as he stared down at you, captivated by your movements. 

“This happens in your room, I don't need you making a mess of my space.” Poe can't help the snort that leaves his mouth, but he nods his head anyways. “Two, I want to be in charge.” You were proud of how little your voice wavered as you spoke, “I get to decide how this goes.” 

Your words make Poe's jaw twitch. How often did you get what you wanted with Red?

“I promise I will be your devoted servant.” He agrees, reaching for your hand and pulling it to his lips, placing a slow and sensual kiss on your pulse. 

Maker, this was going to be harder than you thought. 

“This is a one time thing, we don’t acknowledge it after, and we dont let it change our working relationship.” 

Poe's throat only constricts a little before he nods, “Of course.” He drops your hand gently, waiting for you.

Now Poes stares at you with a burning look in his gaze, his jaw clenched as he stares between you and Red One. 

“Distracted? Blue, you could have hurt yourself.” He hisses, running a hand through his hair in an irritated manner. You frown, noticing the crowd gathering around you all now. 

“It was a mistake, a stupid one, but I’m fine-”

“Maybe if you weren't so busy sleeping with our Squad leader you wouldn't have messed up.” The insult stabs through your chest. You turn slowly to face Red One, a grim look on his face as he sighs before continuing, “I really thought you were smarter than this Blue, you really couldn't wait for me to explain what happened before you just moved on to the next available guy who would fuck you-”

You honestly aren't sure who moved first. One minute your hearing began to ring, your heart thundering in your chest, and then here you were, standing over a bleeding Red. Your fist felt like it was on fire but honestly, you didn't care. Then you feel Poe’s arms wrap around your waist, tugging you back as people begin to shout, surging in to watch the scene. 

“All those years I spent underneath you were absolute shit compared to what Poe’s made me feel in one month-” You spit out, years of rage boiling over as you watch Red sit up, his hand shakily touching the blood pouring out of his nose. “And I hope you can prove you know how to draft a mission plan because I’m going first thing tomorrow to get your name removed from all of my work, my work.” You seeth, tugging against Poe's grip one last time. You can feel his face near yours, his nose gently running along your cheek as he squeezes your arms gently. “Let's get out of here, Blue.” He whispers, and you nod, giving Red one last glare before moving through the parting crowd. You swear you can almost hear cheers as you and Poe enter the flight squads quarters, shutting yourself off from the rest of the world. 

You feel yourself enter a room, and you finally feel the world unblurring as you realize Poe brought you back to your own quarters. You can feel him gently pull at your clothes, removing your flight suit with great care, reaching into your drawers to find some comfortable clothes he slips onto your body without an ounce of alternative means. A sudden hiss leaves your lips as he bumps his hand against your injured one, and he quickly moves you to your bed. He curses before you, kneeling between your legs as he tentatively grabs your hand, assessing the broken skin on your knuckles. 

“Shit baby, you got him good.” He smiles, taking a clean rage and gently dabbing at the bloodied wounds. You wince and he immediately pulls back, waiting for you to let him continue. 

“I shouldn't have hit him,” you mumble, biting your lip as he hits another painful spot, “I’ll probably get written up.” 

Poe snorts, shaking his head. “I dont it won't be any worse than what he's gonna get. Plagiarizing plans? Falsifying records? He's lucky if the general even lets him get drinks for us.” You can't help the laugh that tumbles out of your throat, nodding along to his words. He quickly wraps your hand in a simple bandage, just tight enough to keep your hand from throbbing. You meet Poe’s gaze as he looks up at you, crouched between your legs with a serene look on his face. 

“What?” you ask softly, gripping your sheets with your other hand. Poe just shakes his head, “So, I've given you a better month than he could in years?” 

You groan as you drop your head to his shoulder, embarrassment flooding your senses. “I didn't mean to say that in front of everyone.” Poe just laughs, letting his hands run up and along your thighs. 

“It was pretty hot to see you claim me in front of everyone like that, baby.” He smiles, gently using his hands to lift your face so he can look at you. You flush brightly, your eyes unable to look anywhere else but his gaze. “Im sorry, I'm sure that was uncomfortable for you-”

 Poe shakes his head, his nose brushing along yours. “You still don't get it, huh?” Before you can speak again he pushes the two of you up and back, laying you down onto your bed as he hovers over you. “I want to be yours, Blue, I think in some way I always have been.” He says softly, intertwining your hands together as he presses them beside your head. “I've slept with people, yes, but none could get you off my mind.” His lips gently trail down your neck, biting and kissing at your skin. You gasp, your body reacting so easily for him. “You were always there, since flight school, in my mind, always competing with me. Then I leave, and I come back to tell you-” He carefully slips his hand under the edge of your shirt, feeling your skin with a gentle touch. 

As if he can't believe this is still happening.

“I come back and see you look at him like that, and I would have supported you baby I would have, but-” He hisses as your body arches against him, brushing together as heat begins to flood your body. “Lucky for me he was an idiot.” Is all Poe can say as you crash your lips to his, gripping his jaw tightly as you angle him in closer to deepen the kiss. “Fuck, I can only ever think about you Blue-” He gasps as your hand trails in between you, running your fingers along the seams of his length. “I only want to think about you, I want to be yours forever-” He rambles on, your hand moving rhythmically against him as you listen to him beg. His words fill your chest as he speaks, so plainly yet undoubtedly true. 

“Poe?” You say softly, watching as his eyes open to find yours, dark and glazed over with lust, but his attention undivided. You smile softly, only slowing your movements ever so slightly as you take a breath to speak. “I'm yours.” You whisper softly, your smile widening as you see his eyes begin to water. You gasp as you tugged up, pressed against his chest as he buries his face into your neck, holding you impossibly tight. 

“Fuck, Blue, I almost didn’t last when I heard you say that.” Poe grumbles, and you laugh loudly as your hands pull his hips to yours. 

“We're just getting started, Dameron, I can't have you tapping out so early.” You grin, letting your hands snake up the bros expanse of his back to caress his head. An idea strikes you as you hold on to one another, your hands running along the carved muscles of his body. 

“Poe?” You ask softly, turning your head to look at him as he pulls back slightly from your neck. “Can we try something?” 

His smile is lethal. 

“How do you want me, baby?”

You carefully pull back from his embrace, eyeing him playfully as you turn onto your hands and knees, movings towards the headboard with a sway to your hips, Poe’s eyes practically glow with desire, and you feel his hand run along your spine, gripping your hips dangerously before you grab onto the headboard, arching yourself against him. You can feel his chest contracting behind you, his hands moving to your hips instinctively. You loved this, feeling so crowded by his body and scent.

Poe wasted no time in shucking down your pants, tilting your head to meet his lips in a fiery kiss as the cool air of your room blows against your exposed lower body. You reach a hand behind you, finding the edge to his pants and working to pull them down, releasing his cock between the both of you. 

With a practiced precision, Poe sheathes himself into you, a satisfied gasp leaving your lips. You can already feel the headboard creaking under your grasp, but you don't care.

“Shit, baby, I'm not gonna last long-” He pants, kissing your neck while giving you another small thrust. He leaves one hand on your waist as the other snakes to your slick folds, teasing you gently as you let out another moan. “I don’t care, just fuck me Poe, please-” You whine out, pushing yourself against him with need. You gasp as you feel a sharp slap to your clit, only making you infinitely wetter. 

“I’m going to take my time fucking my girl.” He growls, and pulls you in for another thrust. Your face turns towards the board, hot pants of air escaping you as he thrust into you from below, perfectly hitting that spot within you that makes your toes curl with pleasure. He leans forward, wrapping a hand over yours as he fucks you into the headboard, his other hand tightening on your hip as he slams into you.

“My beautiful girl, so wet for me. Do you like making me so hungry for you? Driving me wild seeing you so lost in pleasure? Absolutely drenching my cock?” His words almost send you over the edge alone, only capable of giving him a choked sob in reply. 

He fucks into you mercilessly, grinding himself against you with every thrust, his own orgasm approaching as quickly as yours. “Fuck, baby, you were made for me, never gonna let you go-” You feel him shake as he begins to unload into you, his hand rubbing tirelessly over your clit and quickly sending you over the edge into your own pleasure. 

“Fuck!”  You cry out, shaking as he continues to thrust into you, emptying himself entirely. The room is filled with pants as you both lean against each other, your hands trembling as you use the headboard to hold yourself up. You feel so impossibly full. You shift gently, feeling his body tense behind you as his head rests in the crook of your neck. 

“Still with me, Dameron?” You smile, turning your head to gently press a kiss to his temple. You can feel him smile against your skin, placing his own soft kiss on your shoulder. “Always, baby.” He whispers back softly, lifting his head to gaze at you with pure adoration. You eventually separate, slinking down into your bed wrapped in each other's embrace. Any other clothes were shed, the need for urgency long behind you both as you tak in these moments of being utterly at peace. 

You rest your head on his chest, your eyes drifting close as you listen to the steady beat of his heart. “Poe?” you ask softly, running your hand along his sternum. You can feel him shift, knowing he was looking down at you.

“Yeah, sweet girl?” He asks gently, running a hand through your hair and you swear you are in heaven. 

“When did you realize you liked me? You…we, we’ve just been together for so long and I never realized.” You ask, turning your head up to look at him easier. Poe smiles, so easy and carefree, and just shrugs. 

“Maybe always?” 

You swat at his chest, a chuckle rumbling in him as he grabs your hand, pressing a kiss to your pulse. “Be serious!” You scold, but the smile on your face tells him all he needs to know.

“I am serious. It was always you.”

Your smile only grows softer as you listen to him, your hand continuing to rub small circles onto his skin. “I’m sorry I took so long to realize it.” You whisper to him, reaching up to rub his jaw. Poe grins and moves over you, flipping you both until he rests on top of you. He surges forward,  kissing you as if you had all the time in this world. You both stay close, his nose brushing against yours as you gaze into each other's eyes. Poe speaks, whispering into your ear, and you know he means it.

“I would have waited forever for you”