#gettin personal under the cut

[whatthebodygraspsnot]

making moves to rekindle some existential confidence so here’s me and my sunburn and my dinosaur and my bedroom map of skyrim because what sets the mood better than skyrim, ya know?

[nanaslutt]

pls super nasty smut w todo where we are his favorite idol 🙏

Todo FUCKS and i know it………

contains: fem reader, fanboy!Todo, protected sex, quickie, hair pulling, dirty talk, rough sex, backshots, dacraphillia, using panties as a gag :3

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Todo had been waiting for this moment his whole life.. he was finally going to meet his idol. The large man stood behind a group of shorter guys, all giggling as they watched you hug a sweet-looking fan. His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest, he was so close he could smell your perfume. Just the annoyingly giddy group of boys in front of him and it would be his turn.

He had gone over this exact moment over and over in his head. You looked so pretty in your light pink dress, frilly thigh highs to match, that squished the fat of your thighs at the top, making his eyes roll back in his head in disbelief at how anyone could look so perfect. Todo had been a fan for years, he had watched every show you had been on, every special, he had seen every magazine, poster, and any form of media there was of you he had seen; he would like to own all of it but his collection was quite impressive already.

"Thank you for your support!" You spoke kindly, averting your body to shake hands with the boys instead of hugging them. You could tell he looked dejected, but the boy smelled like BO and you had noticed his lock screen when he went to take a selfie with you-- it was of a young-looking anime girl in a bikini.. not exactly the kind of guy you wanted up in your personal space, but by the way he gripped his hand and stared at it in awe when he walked away you could tell he was more than satisfied.

You sighed, growing tired from meeting all the fans, sure you loved seeing all their cute faces and tears of appreciation, some even bringing you gifts, but you had been standing in the same spot for almost five hours now, the heels you were wearing felt like they were slowly melting into your feet and becoming one with the skin. You looked over to your manager, keeping a faux smile on your face as you did so, but widening your eyes to let her know you were going to cry if you didn't get a break soon.

"U-um, H-hello my name is Todo Ali Its-" A deep voice broke you out of your silent plea to your manager, snapping your neck to behind you a man more than twice your size stood in front of you, fiddling with his hands in his pockets as he took everything in. You knew you had quite the male-dominated audience, but this man didn't fit the description for your usual fans.

He was handsome, extremely fit; so much so it looked like his pecs were going to burst through his shirt and you could faintly make out the indents of his abs; he smelled amazing, which was refreshing after all this teen boy musk, his voice sent tingles down your spine, and he hadn't immediately tried to touch you in some way when he stepped into your space. "Hi there big guy~" You responded, reaching your arm out to grab onto his bicep, stroking it friendly (also simultaneously trying to cop a feel.)

Todo blushed, you were touching him right now, not just touching him you were stroking his arm. He had to take a deep breath in order to not pass out. "I've been a fan for so long when I found out you were coming to Kyoto I-" Your giggles cut him off, your sharp acrylics lightly scratching down his arm as you pulled one of his hands out of his pockets and took it in yours; you couldn't help but notice how much larger it was than yours. "I'm so glad you came Todo~" You cooed, swinging your hips in circles as you looked up at him from under your lashes.

Todo froze, his face turning an even darker shade of crimson. He gulped, watching you caress his fingers with your smaller, more delicate ones. You were so much shorter in real life, the size difference between the two of you was making his brain short circut, and simultaneously all of the blood that was being drained from his head was getting sent to.. another head. "Y-yeah?" He replied, giving you a quick one over before he swallowed the saliva pooling in his mouth.

A lightbulb went off in your head at that moment. This was a handsome man who looked to be about the same age as you, he looked like he could bend you in every way your body would allow him to, and you bet he wanted to, from the way he was blushing and shaking with adrenaline. He must've thought he was being sneaky when he would steal glances down the low cut of your dress that showed off a generous amount of your cleavage.

You're not sure where this sudden arousal came from. Maybe a combination of being an idol with such a strict team; never allowing you enough time to go on dates; your exhaustion, you were on your ovulation week.. and Todo had been the first person you saw today who was handsome AND didn't try to invade your personal bubble in some way; combined with all the other amazing things about him. You were about to go on a break anyways, this might just be perfect, you thought.

"Yeah~ It's so refreshing to see someone like you here, you're so handsome and you speak so politely ~" He felt his pants get tighter at the compliment, briefly looking down at them he prayed you wouldn't see the imprint through his pants. You looked around, making sure no one was close enough to hear before you leaned it, standing on your tippytoes you used one of your hands to steady yourself on his solid chest. Taking the thin material of his shirt between your fingers, you pulled him down so your lips were by his ear.

"To be honest, a lot of these guys are sooo creepy~" Todo could feel his heartbeat in his fingertips, the loud beat of his racing heart almost drowning out your sultry voice, "But you would never treat me like them.. would you Todo?" The man was sure he was at full attention down there, he tried to adjust his shirt subtly enough so you wouldn't see him while you were by the crook of his neck, but he was sorely mistaken. You grabbed his wrist, stopping him from covering the now very obvious tent in his pants.

From what you could tell, the outline looked huge, what about this man wasn't? You smiled at him, tipping your head to the side. "I've never done this before, but I think I like you Todo~" You spoke. The world seemed to slow down, everything around you besides your voice was drowned out in the man's ears as you spoke your next words. "I'm about to take a little break, wanna help me relax?" Todo swallowed, hard, before nodding his head and watching a sinister little smile appear on your face.

--

"Fuck f-fuck Ohm-" A massive hand slapped over your mouth, muffling your loud cries. "Shhh pretty girl, stay quiet for me okay? Know you can." Todo cooed. Was this really the same man who was blushing and stuttering just a couple minutes ago when you finally met for the first time? He must've imagined the exact scenario before because he was fucking giving it to you.

Todo stood behind you, your back to his chest, arched agaisnt his pelvis as he fucked into you harder than anyone has. He had one hand wrapped around your body, rubbing your sensitive clit between his fingers and his other hand was pressed over your mouth. One of your hands was steading yourself agaisnt the sink ledge, the other gripping his wrist as you looked at him with teary eyes and scrunched eyebrows through the little bathroom mirror he was fucking you in front of.

Your panties had been pulled down your thighs hastily and stored away safely in Todo's pants. "That's a good girl~ Fuck, you look so pretty." He groaned. You watched his eyes look down between where the two of you were connected, shaking his head and his jaw dropping in a little o as he watched his thick cock split you open, your sore walls having to make quite the stretch to fit him inside. "Your pussy is eating me up-" He moaned, pulling his lip between his teeth as he gave you harsh thrusts, relishing in the loud squelches that met his ears.

"You needed this, huh?" He asked, bringing his eyes up to make contact with yours once more. You nodded against his hand, tears of pleasure falling down your face at the precision with which he was fucking straight into your sweet spot, making your legs feel like jello. Todo let up on your clit, his hand digging in his pocket briefly before he pulled out your panties. His hips stilled against your ass, burring his cock as deep as he could inside you as he released the hand on your mouth, brining the other holding your panties to meet your lips.

He balled them up before pressing them agaisnt you, "Open." He instructed. You were quick to follow, opening your mouth you let him press the fabric between your lips, the taste of yourself flooding onto your tongue when he used two fingers to push the fabric deeper into your mouth, making sure you would keep in in. "Good girl." His deep voice praised, making you giggle against the fabric. You were able to notice when all the motion from his thrusting ceased that he was shaking like a leaf.

You were wondering how he was staying so calm and composed, but in reality, he wasn't all that composed. Todo was grateful for the short break when he pushed your panties into your mouth; using them as a gag so he could use his hands elsewhere. Truthfully every time he looked into the mirror and caught your eyes on him he felt like he was going to cum, it was a miracle he was able to hold out for this long. The only thought keeping him going was not to embarrass himself in front of you, but god the though of cumming inside his favorite idol was right there on the forefront of his brain with it.

He pushed your lower back down into a mean arch, your forearms resting against the sink as you waited with bated breath for him to continue. He knew you didn't have a lot of time, so if he was going to bring it home soon he was gonna make sure you had the best orgasm on his cock before you went back out there. He grabbed a fistful of your hair, gripping strongly before he started fucking into you again, this time rougher and faster than before.

Immediately cries and muffled wines filled the room, more tears quickly welling up in your eyes as he bullied his cock into your tight cunt, yanking your head back by your hair to make your arch deeper. Surely he was messing up your hair, and your makeup would absolutely need a touchup, but you couldn't exactly find it in yourself to care at the moment. Todo's groans and heavy breathing into your ear was so erotic, making the coil in your stomach tighten with your impending orgasm.

"Fuck, I can't believe I have you on my dick like this." He breathed exasperatedly, his eyebrows scrunching together in pleasure. "And you're crying from it-" He finished, yanking your hair back, resulting in a loud wine from you, the fabric doing little to conceal that one. "Todooo~" You spoke his name through the fabric, the sound successfully reaching his dick, making it jump inside you. Todo grit his teeth, without a second thought he released your hair and ripped the panties out of your mouth, throwing them down on the sink.

He grabbed the side of your face, not letting up his incessant hips as he fucked into your sloppily, his hips losing rhythm, "A-again say my name again-" Todo begged against your lips, your skin grazing each other as your slack jaw moaned against his mouth. "F-fuck Todo!!" You cried, resulting in a groan from the man as he pressed your lips together, slotting his tongue with yours in a messy kiss, filled with lust and need. "Again." You heard him speak against your lips, his thrust speeding up, you felt your own arousal drip down your thighs.

"Todo-" thrust "Again." thrust "Fuck! F-fuuck! Todo I'm cumming, you're gonna make me c-cum!" You gasped into his mouth. He quieted you with his own, his moans increasing in volume as his own high rapidly approached him. At the exact moment, your jaw went slack against his lips as he felt your cunt squeeze him rhythmically, his own orgasm crashed over him. "C-cumming- f-fuck-" He pretended his cum wasn't currently filling up the condom he had on, and instead was shooting deep inside you, filling up your womb.

Your legs were shaking and wobbling as you came around him, his shallow thrusts working you through one of the most intense orgasms you've ever had. Todo groaned long and loudly against your lips, both of your jaws open and eyes squeezed shut as the two of you rode out the aftershocks of your orgasms together. The room was filled with your pants and gasps as the two of you frantically tried to catch your breath. "Fuck.. thank you, did so good, thank you," Todo whispered.

You turned your head forward once more, staring at Todo behind you, who currently had his eyes glued to your cunt as he slid his massive softening girth out of the comfort of your warm walls. You winced in overstimulation as he slid out of you, leaving your walls with a lewd squelch. "Sorry, are you feeling alright?" He asked, holding your hips in his large hands and rubbing the skin there. "I'm more than alright Todo, my legs are a little compromised but other than that I'm alright~" You reassured, rubbing your hand atop his, making his blush deepen.

The man looked back down between the two of you as he started pulling the used condom off of his cock, cringing at the feeling. "Todo." Your voice echoed into his ears, making him look up at you, blushing at the use of his name--he would never get sick of it. "I'm not leaving this room till I have your number in my phone." You said, picking up your cutely decorated phone from the sink in front of you and waving it side to side.

You've never seen someone nod so eagerly in your life, making you giggle. "Need to take care of you first." He said, kissing the back of your neck, throwing the tied condom in the trash by his feet before his hands started to make work on smoothing out your wrinkled dress. "Todo, I have an entire team out there for that, you can take care of me by putting my mind at ease and letting me know that this will happen again, by giving me~ your phone numberrr~" You drawled, turning your body around as he held your hips, your hand pressing the device into his chest.

The man hesitantly took your phone in his hand, staring at you with disbelief. You leaned into his large frame, pressing a kiss to his solid chest and making him gasp before you pulled back, bringing your hand up to his head to push away any stray hairs he had, "I like you, you better call me~"

[mcrdvcks]

I Wanna Be Yours

Summary: You're a hacker for The Organization, a secret group that is currently working on dismantling a mutant trafficking ring. You've been working with Logan for months but neither of you have met each other in person and he doesn't even know your real name.

Word Count: 14.7k+

Pairing: Logan (X-Men) x fem!reader

Notes: this is something i've wanted to do for a while- playing with the idea that logan can totally fall in love with someone just through their voice (and vice versa). i hope y'all enjoy it!

warnings/tags: reader has a code name, pet name (darling), light violence, mentions of (mutant) trafficking, some uses of y/n

“Bet you look good in that suit.” You say, tapping on your keyboard, hacking into the security cameras of the seedy casino where the deal was taking place.

Logan huffed, covertly adjusting the small earpiece as he blended in with the crowd of the dimly lit casino. His tuxedo felt too tight, but then again, it wasn’t like he was made for fancy suits and shiny shoes.

“Don’t go gettin’ all sentimental, Phantom. This thing barely fits,” he muttered, keeping his voice low and steady. He glanced around, taking in the sight of gamblers, dealers, and a few shifty-looking men gathered near a corner. Probably the ones he was here for.

“Must be hard to hide all those muscles,” you teased through the comm, your voice a steady whisper in his ear. “But I’ll try not to distract you, just this once.”

A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips as he slipped past a group of laughing tourists. He scanned the room, zeroing in on his target: a short, balding man with an expensive suit and a smug look on his face. Logan’s senses sharpened. He could practically smell the guy’s nervous sweat. This had to be one of the trafficking ring’s major players.

“Any idea where they’re at?” he asked, his tone shifting from playful to serious in an instant.

“Second floor. Private poker room,” you said, enlarging one of the camera feeds to get a better view. “Security’s tighter up there. You’ll need a distraction if you wanna get past those guards.”

Logan glanced at the stairway leading up. Two burly men stood in front, arms crossed, eyes scanning for any sign of trouble. “Can’t just slice my way through ‘em,” he grumbled. “What’ve you got for me, Phantom?”

“Patience,” you teased. “Trust me, I’m working on it.” You typed a few more commands, initiating a loop in the security feed of the second-floor hallway. “You’ve got a 30-second window. Move now.”

Logan didn’t need to be told twice. He slipped through the casino floor, dodging between slot machines and card tables until he reached the base of the stairwell. The guards barely glanced his way as he strolled past, looking for all the world like another high-roller with a chip on his shoulder.

“Almost too easy,” he muttered under his breath, taking the steps two at a time.

“I make it look easy,” you corrected, monitoring the shifting feeds as Logan made his way to the second floor. “Just keep moving. The loop’ll hold, but not for long.”

Logan reached the hallway, his eyes narrowing at the closed door leading to the poker room. He slowed his pace, ears straining to pick up any sounds on the other side. “Tell me you’ve got eyes in there.”

“Not yet, working on it,” you said. “This system’s layered, gonna take a sec.”

Logan let out a quiet growl. “Great. No pressure or anything.”

“Hey, if you’re in such a hurry, I could always—”

“Don’t,” he cut in. “Just—stay on it.” He pressed his back to the wall, inching closer to the door, waiting for your go.

There was a pause, and then, “Got it.” Your voice softened, like you were focusing extra hard. “Four guys in there. Three playing cards, one pacing by the window.”

“Let me guess,” Logan grunted. “The bald one’s pacing.”

“Bingo.”

Logan’s fingers flexed, the subtle urge to unsheathe his claws growing. But this was a delicate operation. No bloodshed if it could be helped.

“You’ve got any ideas how to get me in without turnin’ this into a brawl?” he asked, half-expecting you to come up with something clever.

“I’ve got a couple,” you replied, a smile evident in your tone. “But you won’t like them.”

Logan sighed. “Why do I feel like you’re about to mess with me?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” you said sweetly, then paused. “Okay, maybe a little. There’s a closet down the hall to your left. Go there.”

He frowned but did as you instructed, slipping into the darkened space, filled with cleaning supplies and boxes. “Now what?”

“Well, I could trigger a fire alarm, but that’s a little loud and obvious. Or, and hear me out, I could disrupt the air conditioning. Make it so hot in there they’ll be begging for an excuse to step outside.”

Logan chuckled under his breath. “That’s your big plan? Make ‘em sweat?”

“Worked on you, didn’t it?” you teased.

“Funny.” He shook his head, glancing at the vent above him. “Think they’ll all leave?”

“Probably not all at once, but it should get the ball rolling. Just be ready. I’ll handle the rest.” Your fingers flew over the keys again, tapping into the building’s climate control system.

After a moment, you heard Logan’s quiet grunt. “Feels like it’s workin’ already.”

“Yeah, I see the temp rising in their room.” You pulled up the camera feed again, watching as one of the guys at the table tugged at his collar, then another wiped at his brow.

“Ten bucks says Mr. Baldy cracks first,” you said, amused.

Logan smirked. “You’re on.”

Not even a minute passed before the bald man swore, yanked off his suit jacket, and threw it on the back of his chair. “I’m stepping out for some air,” you heard him mutter to the others.

Logan’s eyes flicked to the door, his body tense. “Here we go.”

As the door opened, Logan moved fast. He grabbed the guy, pulling him into the closet before he could make a sound. With a quick, non-lethal chokehold, the guy slumped to the ground unconscious. Logan checked his pulse—alive. Good.

“Nice work,” you whispered in his ear. “Bet he’s not going to wake up happy.”

Logan crouched down, frisking the guy’s pockets. “Let’s hope he’s got something useful on him,” he muttered.

“He’s got a keycard,” you said, watching the screen as Logan pulled out the small plastic card. “That should get you into the back office.”

Logan glanced down at the unconscious man. “You were right. I didn’t like your plan.”

You laughed softly through the comms. “You’ll get over it. Now go, before they notice their friend’s gone.”

Logan straightened up, giving the unconscious man one last look before slipping out of the closet. “You better have a plan for what’s next, Phantom.”

“I always do,” you said, smirking as you pulled up the building’s blueprints. “Just follow my lead. Take the hall to your right. There’s an access door near the end. It’ll get you closer to the office.”

Logan moved quickly, the soft thud of his footsteps barely audible. “You sure about this? That door doesn’t look like it’s meant for guests.”

“I’m sure,” you replied confidently. “It’s an employee access. You’ve got the keycard, remember?”

He grunted in response, holding the card up to the reader. The door unlocked with a faint beep. “You really do make this look easy.”

“I try,” you said, voice laced with amusement. “Now, once you’re inside, there’s a small hallway. You’ll want to hang a left, then a quick right. The office is at the end.”

Logan opened the door, slipping into the narrow hallway. “What’s the deal with this office? Anything I should know?”

“Could be where they’re stashing data on the trafficking network. Either that or it's where they’re counting money.” You were typing again, eyes scanning multiple camera feeds. “But I’ve got a good feeling about this.”

“Good feelin’, huh?” Logan muttered, carefully making his way through the corridor. “Hope that feelin’ is worth something.”

“It always is,” you shot back playfully. “You’ve got about a minute before someone notices the guy you knocked out is missin’. So… chop, chop.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Logan growled, reaching the door to the office. “And you said I was the impatient one.”

Before you could respond, he swiped the keycard again and pushed the door open. Inside, the room was dimly lit, filled with filing cabinets, a desk cluttered with paperwork, and a few old-looking computers. Logan’s nose twitched at the faint scent of stale cigarettes and cologne.

“Jackpot,” you whispered in his ear, pulling up the feed of the room. “There should be a terminal near the desk. Get me plugged in, and I’ll handle the rest.”

Logan looked over at the outdated equipment and scowled. “This stuff’s ancient. Hope you can work with it, Phantom.”

“Please, I’ve hacked worse,” you said, brushing off the concern. “Just get me connected.”

Logan knelt down, finding a small port on the side of the computer and pulling out a cable from his gear. As soon as he plugged it in, your fingers danced across the keyboard, breaking through layers of security.

“There we go,” you murmured. “This’ll take a second. How are things on your end?”

Logan stood back up, glancing around the room. “Quiet. For now.”

“Good, because I’ve got eyes on another guy heading your way,” you warned. “He’s probably checking in on his boss. You might wanna handle him before he stumbles on Baldy.”

Logan’s fists clenched. “Great. Any more good news?”

“Depends. You want the good news or the bad news first?” you asked lightly, your tone casual despite the urgency of the situation.

“Just spit it out.”

“Good news? I’m almost done here. Bad news? You’ve got about thirty seconds before that guy reaches you.”

Logan let out a low growl. “Any suggestions?”

“Well,” you said thoughtfully, “you could go for subtle and knock him out—again. Or you could do the Logan thing and scare the crap out of him.”

Logan smirked. “And here I thought you were gonna say ‘no bloodshed.’”

“I’m flexible,” you teased. “Your call.”

Logan moved toward the door, listening carefully. The approaching footsteps were getting closer. “I’ll try subtle,” he muttered. Then, almost as an afterthought, “for you.”

“Aw, how sweet,” you quipped. “I’ll be sure to remember this moment.”

He cracked the door open just as the guy turned the corner. Logan grabbed him by the collar, yanking him into the room before he could shout. A quick punch to the gut, and the guy doubled over, gasping for air. Logan pressed him against the wall, one hand firmly over his mouth.

“Stay quiet, and I won’t hurt you,” Logan growled, his tone low and threatening.

The guy’s eyes widened, and he gave a shaky nod. Logan let him go, and he slumped to the floor, half-conscious.

“Nice work,” you praised, your voice a soft murmur in his ear. “You’ve still got it.”

“Didn’t lose it,” Logan muttered, stepping over the guy and returning to the desk. “You done yet?”

“Just about,” you said. “And… there. I’ve got everything. You’re good to go.”

Logan disconnected the cable, glancing around the room once more. “And you’re sure this’ll help us track the ring?”

“Positive,” you replied confidently. “Now, get out of there before someone else shows up.”

Logan took one last look at the unconscious man on the floor. “You got a clear path for me?”

“Always,” you said, your fingers flying over the keys again. “Head back the way you came. I’ll loop the cameras again. And don’t worry, I’ll keep them busy downstairs.”

Logan smirked as he stepped back into the hallway. “Sometimes I forget how useful you are.”

“Only sometimes?” you teased.

He chuckled softly. “Don’t push your luck, Phantom.”

You smiled to yourself, watching the feeds as Logan made his way through the building. “Whatever you say, Logan. You owe me one.”

“Add it to the list,” he said, his voice gruff but laced with a hint of amusement.

“Believe me, I am.” You took a bite of your cake, an orange cardamom one you made the other day.

“The hell are you doin’?” Logan asked.

You shrugged, “I’m eatin’. Thought now was a better time than ever. Let’s my fingers have a break. Got a problem, Wolf?” you ask, taking another bite of your cake, your tone teasing through the comm.

Logan’s voice grumbled in your ear, low and irritated. "We're in the middle of a mission, and you’re havin’ dessert?"

"Hey, a girl’s gotta eat," you reply casually, wiping a few crumbs off your keyboard. "I’ve earned it. You’re lucky I’m not eating popcorn with the way this operation’s going. Besides, I’m the one doing the hard work behind the scenes, remember?"

"You’re sittin’ in front of a computer, Phantom," Logan shot back, though you could hear the faintest trace of a smirk in his voice. "Not exactly the front lines."

"Exactly. Where would you be without me?" you retort, savoring another bite of cake. "I’m the reason you’re not punching your way through the entire casino right now."

Logan stayed quiet for a beat. You could imagine him clenching his jaw, trying to decide whether to argue or just let you have your moment. "You done?"

You chuckle softly, leaning back in your chair. "For now. You make it out of there yet?"

"Almost," Logan muttered, his voice low as he moved through the hall. "Place is still crawling with these scumbags. Any chance you can keep ‘em distracted?"

"Already ahead of you," you said, your fingers flying over the keyboard again. "Looping the feeds, and I’ve got a little surprise coming for the main floor. Keep your eyes open."

Logan grunted in response, his boots making soft thuds as he crept through the back corridors. "Surprise, huh? What kind of surprise?"

"You’ll see," you said cryptically, unable to hide the amusement in your tone.

There was a pause before Logan spoke again, quieter this time. "You always this chatty during missions?"

You tilted your head, curious. "Depends on who I’m working with. Some people are all business, no fun. Others… well, they don’t mind a little conversation. Keeps things from getting too tense."

"Huh," Logan responded, noncommittal. But then, after another beat, he added, "Guess it ain’t so bad."

Your eyebrows shot up. "Was that a compliment? Did Wolverine just say something nice?"

"Don’t push it, Phantom," Logan growled, but there was a hint of a smile in his voice.

You grinned to yourself, pleased that you’d gotten under his skin a little. "Alright, alright. I’ll stop before you start getting sentimental on me."

Logan was quiet for a moment, then muttered, "Not much chance of that."

Before you could reply, you heard footsteps in the feed, heading in Logan’s direction. Your tone shifted, all business now. "Logan, hold up. Someone’s coming your way, about twenty feet ahead."

"Great," he grumbled, already moving to the side, pressing himself into the shadows.

You watched the camera feed, tracking the figure’s movement. "Wait… looks like it’s just one guy. Should be easy to handle."

Logan’s low growl rumbled through the comm. "Easy for you to say."

You rolled your eyes, but your focus stayed on the screen. "You’re Wolverine. You’ll be fine. Just make sure he doesn’t see you."

A few seconds passed, and then you heard a soft thud. Logan’s voice came back through the comm, sounding slightly breathless. "Handled."

"See? Told you. Easy," you said smugly.

Logan didn’t respond right away, probably too busy moving again. You kept your eyes on the security feeds, tracking his progress. Finally, you heard his voice, a little softer this time. "Thanks."

Your fingers paused over the keys. "For what?"

"For not gettin’ in the way," he said, almost gruffly, but you could tell he meant it.

You smiled, a warm feeling spreading through your chest. "Anytime, Wolf."

There was a brief silence, and then Logan cleared his throat. "So, you gonna tell me what this surprise is, or you just keepin’ me in the dark?"

You leaned forward, grinning. "Oh, right. Almost forgot. Check the main floor in about… five seconds."

Logan didn’t say anything, but you imagined him looking around suspiciously. Then, just as you’d planned, the lights in the main casino flickered before the fire alarms started blaring. You heard Logan’s quiet chuckle through the comm.

"That your idea of subtle?"

"I prefer ‘effective,’" you said, watching as the casino patrons started panicking, scrambling for the exits. "Should give you the distraction you need to get out clean."

Logan let out a low laugh. "I’ll give you that, Phantom. You make one hell of a distraction."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," you teased, though you couldn’t help the slight flush creeping up your neck. "Now hurry up and get out of there before someone starts putting two and two together."

"On it," Logan muttered, the sound of the alarm still faint in the background as he made his way out. "I’m guessin’ you already got us an exit plan?"

You leaned back in your chair, tapping your fingers against the desk. "I wouldn’t leave you hanging like that. Side door, west end of the building. You’ve got about three minutes before the cops show up."

Logan moved swiftly, his footsteps barely audible now. "You really are somethin’ else, y’know that?"

You smirked. "I’ve heard that once or twice."

As Logan slipped through the side door, you watched him disappear from the building’s cameras, your job mostly done. “You’re clear. Ricky wants you to meet him tomorrow morning, 8 sharp for a debrief.”

Logan let out a short grunt. “Ricky, huh? Great. I’ll bring donuts.”

You smiled, rolling your eyes even though he couldn’t see you. “You could at least try to pretend you’re not completely over these meetings.”

Logan’s voice crackled through the comm, rough but with a hint of humor. “I’m over a lotta things, Phantom. Meetin’s just one of ‘em.”

You leaned back in your chair, stretching out your arms. “Well, don’t be late. You know how Ricky gets when he’s kept waitin’.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Logan muttered. There was a pause, and then, “What about you? You gonna be there?”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised at the question. “You think I just show up to these things? I’m the behind-the-scenes tech genius, remember? My job’s done.”

Logan huffed. “Yeah, well… guess I figured after all this time, I’d finally meet the mystery hacker.”

There was something in his voice—something almost like curiosity—but you brushed it off with a light laugh. “Aw, are you saying you miss me already, Wolf?”

“Don’t push it,” Logan shot back, though there was a playful edge to his words. “Just seems weird, is all. Workin’ together this long and never even met you face-to-face.”

You paused for a moment, considering his words. It was weird. You’d been guiding Logan through missions for months now, your voices constantly in each other’s ears, but you had never been in the same room. A part of you liked it that way—it kept things professional, detached. Safer. But another part of you… well, maybe you were curious too.

“Maybe one day,” you said lightly, dodging the subject. “But for now, I think it’s better this way. Keeps the mystery alive, right?”

Logan snorted. “Yeah, real mysterious. You sittin’ there eatin’ cake while I’m out here doin’ the heavy liftin’.”

You smirked. “It’s called multitasking, Logan. I’m sure you’ve heard of it.”

Before he could respond, a soft beep on your computer alerted you that the building’s security systems were coming back online. The loop you’d created was about to end.

“Looks like my window’s closing,” you said, typing a few last commands. “Everything’s going back to normal on their end. You’re officially off the radar.”

“Good. Was gettin’ sick of the place anyway,” Logan muttered. You could hear the sound of traffic now, indicating he was out on the street. “You sure you don’t wanna show up tomorrow?”

“Why?” you asked, amused. “So you can finally see if I really do eat cake during all your missions?”

Logan grumbled something under his breath. “Yeah, somethin’ like that.”

You hesitated, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. Meeting him in person… it’d be a big step. The dynamics between you two would change. And honestly, you weren’t sure if that was a good idea. But at the same time, a part of you was curious about the man behind the gruff voice and dry humor.

“We’ll see,” you said, keeping your tone light. “But don’t hold your breath, Wolf.”

Logan was quiet for a second before he let out a low chuckle. “Wasn’t plannin’ on it. See you around, Phantom.”

With that, the line went dead, and you leaned back in your chair, staring at the screen. You could still hear Logan’s voice in your head, and for a moment, you wondered what it’d be like to finally meet him. But then you shook the thought away, focusing back on your monitors.

It was safer this way. Easier. Less complicated.

But as you closed down your systems for the night, a small, nagging part of you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d ever get the chance to see the man behind the voice.

---

The next morning, you found yourself up earlier than usual, sipping coffee and thinking about Logan’s mission. You knew he was already at the debrief with Ricky, probably sitting there with that irritated look on his face. The thought made you smile.

You were in the middle of pulling up some new data on the trafficking ring when your phone buzzed with a message.

Logan: Missin’ you at this meeting. Ricky’s talkin’ my ear off.

You blinked at the screen, surprised. You weren’t expecting a text from Logan, let alone one like that. He wasn’t usually the type to check in.

You: I’m sure you’re handling it like a pro. Should I send donuts as a peace offering?

His reply came almost immediately.

Logan: Yeah, make it two dozen.

You snorted into your coffee, shaking your head.

You: I’ll see what I can do. How’d the debrief go?

There was a pause before Logan replied.

Logan: Fine. Got another mission lined up. They want you back on comms. Same setup.

Your fingers hesitated over the keys before you typed back.

You: Guess that means you’re stuck with me a little longer, huh?

Logan: Could be worse.

You smiled to yourself, a warm feeling spreading through your chest. It was a small thing, but the fact that Logan had reached out to you, even if it was just to complain about a meeting, felt like progress.

You: Just let me know when you’re ready for another round, Wolf. I’ll be there.

Logan: Yeah, I know you will.

You stared at the screen for a second longer, feeling something stir in the pit of your stomach. You shook it off, downed the rest of your coffee, and started pulling up the files for the next mission.

There was no time for distractions—not when the stakes were this high.

But still, a small part of you couldn’t help but look forward to hearing Logan’s voice in your ear again.

---

“Why don’t you tell me something ‘bout you?”

You raised an eyebrow at Logan’s question, momentarily pausing your typing before resuming. “I don’t know… don’t want a strange man knowin’ about me, do I?”

There was a low chuckle on the other end of the line. "Strange man, huh? Thought we were past that by now."

You smirked, leaning back in your chair. “Well, I guess you’re not that strange, Wolf. But still. Not sure I’m ready to spill all my secrets.”

“I’m not askin’ for all your secrets. Just one.” His voice was rough, but there was a hint of curiosity behind it, like he was genuinely interested in getting to know you. Which was… unexpected.

You tapped your fingers against the keyboard, considering. “Alright. Something about me, huh? Let’s see… I used to hate coffee. Couldn’t stand the taste.”

Logan snorted. “That’s it? C’mon, Phantom, give me somethin’ better than that.”

“Hey, you didn’t specify what kind of fact,” you shot back, a grin creeping onto your face. “But fine, if you want something more interesting… I got kicked out of my computer science class once.”

There was a beat of silence. “You? Miss hacker extraordinaire? What the hell did you do?”

You shrugged, even though he couldn’t see you. “Maybe I hacked into the school’s system to change a grade or two. Not mine, though. A friend’s. The professor wasn’t too thrilled about it.”

Logan’s laugh came through the line, deeper this time. “Should’ve known you’d be trouble.”

You smiled, leaning forward again. “Well, you’re stuck with me now.”

“Seems like it,” he muttered, a hint of something in his voice that made your stomach flip.

You cleared your throat, steering the conversation back on track. “Alright, your turn. Tell me something about you.”

“Not much to tell.” Logan’s voice was gruff, almost dismissive, but you could hear the hesitation.

“Come on, fair’s fair,” you pressed. “You can’t ask me for something and not return the favor.”

He was silent for a moment, and you could almost picture him sitting there, deciding how much he wanted to give away. Logan was driving, he had finished another mission with you on the line like always. Except this time, it ended with a man tied up and unconscious in the trunk for Ricky.

Finally, he sighed. “Alright. You want something about me? I used to be a lumberjack.”

You blinked, thrown off by the admission. “A lumberjack? Like, chopping down trees and all that?”

“Yeah. Chopping down trees, clearing land. It was… quiet. Simple.”

You let that sink in, the image of Logan swinging an axe somehow fitting. “Sounds nice. Bet you looked right at home doing it.”

He huffed a short laugh. “Not sure anyone’s ever ‘at home’ doing that, but yeah, it wasn’t bad. Kept me grounded, I guess.”

There was something unspoken in his voice, something heavy. You knew enough by now to not push too hard, so instead, you kept it light. “So, from chopping trees to chasing bad guys and mutants. Quite the career change.”

“Yeah, you could say that.” Logan’s tone shifted, and you could tell he was ready to move on. “Enough ‘bout me. What’s the status on those files? You find anything new?”

You glanced at your screen, where the data on the trafficking ring was slowly coming together. “A few new leads. Cross-referenced some names from the last mission, and there’s definitely a connection between the ring and a shipping company based in Miami. Could be our way in.”

“Good.” Logan’s voice was steady, all business again. “Send me the details when you’re done. Ricky’s gonna want to know.”

You nodded to yourself, already pulling up the files to forward to him. “You got it. And Logan?”

“Yeah?”

“Try not to let Ricky drive you too crazy. I’m not sending donuts again.”

Logan snorted. “No promises.”

---

Two days later, you were back at your desk, knee-deep in code, when the comms crackled to life.

“You ready, Phantom?”

You smiled to yourself, hearing Logan’s voice in your ear again. “Always. You good to go?”

“Locked and loaded,” he replied, the sound of a car door shutting in the background. “What’s the target this time?”

You tapped a few keys, bringing up the map. “Warehouse in Miami. Based on the intel we pulled, this is one of their main distribution points. High traffic, lots of movement at night.”

“Security?”

“Pretty tight, but nothing we can’t handle. I’ll be your eyes and ears. You just focus on getting in and out.”

“Like always.” There was a pause, then, “You ever been to Miami?”

You raised an eyebrow at the question. “Once or twice. Why?”

“Just curious. Thought maybe you’d have some recommendations on where to go after all this is over.”

You couldn’t help but grin. “What, planning a vacation already?”

“Maybe. Depends how fast we wrap this up.”

Shaking your head, you brought the focus back to the mission. “Alright, Wolf. Let’s get through this first, then we can talk about your beach plans.”

Logan chuckled, low and rough. “Deal.”

As you guided him through the back streets of Miami, tracking his every move on the security cameras, you couldn’t help but feel that familiar sense of anticipation. Working with Logan had become second nature by now, and yet there was always this underlying tension, this unspoken connection between you two that made every mission just a little more intense.

“Left at the next alley,” you instructed, your eyes flicking between the camera feeds. “You’ll see a door around the corner. Should be unlocked.”

“Got it,” Logan replied, his voice steady. You could hear his footsteps echoing off the alley walls as he approached the warehouse.

“Any movement inside?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

You scanned the interior feeds. “Three guards on the ground floor, two patrolling the upper levels. They’re not on high alert, though. You should be able to slip past them.”

“Easy enough.”

You listened to the sound of him moving, the slight creak of a door opening, then the soft thud of his boots on concrete. You kept your focus on the screens, heart rate picking up as Logan made his way deeper into the building.

“There’s a stairwell to your left,” you whispered, though no one but Logan could hear you. “Take it up. The control room’s on the second floor.”

“On it.”

Everything was going smoothly—until it wasn’t.

“Shit,” Logan muttered, his voice tense. “Got company.”

Your eyes flew to the nearest camera, catching sight of two guards rounding the corner, guns drawn.

“Hang on,” you said quickly, fingers flying across the keyboard. “I’m looping the camera feed—there, they shouldn’t be able to see you now.”

Logan didn’t respond right away, but you heard the scuffle over the line, the sound of fists meeting flesh, followed by a grunt of pain. You held your breath, watching the screens intently.

“Logan? You good?”

There was a beat of silence before his voice came through, breathless but unbothered. “Yeah. Just had to put a couple guys to sleep.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “Jesus, give me a heart attack, why don’t you?”

“Don’t worry, Phantom. I’ve got it under control.”

You could practically hear the smirk in his voice, and despite the tension, you couldn’t help but smile. “Well, next time, maybe give me a little warning before you go all Rambo on me.”

“No promises,” Logan’s voice crackled through the comms, and you could practically hear the grin in his tone. There was a brief pause before he added, “You still with me, Phantom?”

You shook your head, trying to suppress a smile. “Barely. I swear, you’ll be the death of me one of these days.”

His laugh came low and rough, and for a moment, you let yourself relax a little, the tension from earlier easing. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve heard that.”

“Yeah, well, I mean it,” you shot back, eyes scanning the multiple screens in front of you. The warehouse was sprawling, but you had a pretty good read on the layout by now. “You’re clear to move. No one else on this floor.”

“Got it.” You heard the soft thud of his boots again as he moved forward.

“So, what’s the next step?” Logan asked, keeping his voice low. “You got me runnin’ around this place, but you haven’t told me what I’m lookin’ for.”

“Patience, Wolf,” you teased, tapping a few more keys to bring up the rest of the building’s security system. “I’m working on it. There’s a secure server room on the north side of the building. That’s where they’re storing the data we need. You’re gonna have to bypass their security to get in.”

“Piece of cake.”

“Funny you mention cake,” you said, grinning to yourself as you tapped into the server’s firewall. “Because after this, I’m thinking you owe me some. Maybe even pie. You’re racking up quite the tab.”

Logan chuckled. “Yeah? We’ll see. First, let’s get through this alive.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

As you worked, your mind drifted for a second, the familiar rhythm of the job taking over. It was almost unsettling how natural it had become to guide Logan through these kinds of missions. You weren’t sure when you’d started looking forward to them—maybe it was the banter, maybe it was the trust you’d built. But either way, it had become a part of your routine.

“Server room’s on the right,” you said after a beat, focusing back on the task at hand. “Two guards outside, but they don’t seem too alert. Shouldn’t be a problem for you.”

Logan’s voice was smooth as he replied, “Already ahead of you. On my way.”

You kept your eyes on the screen, watching as he moved through the shadows, blending in with the dark corners of the warehouse. It was impressive, really. The way he worked was so fluid, like he’d done this a thousand times before. And, well, he probably had.

“There’s an override switch on the wall next to the door,” you instructed. “Flip it, and you’ll have access.”

Logan grunted in response, and a moment later, you heard the soft click of the door unlocking.

“Inside,” he muttered. “Now what?”

You were about to respond when a sudden blip on your screen caught your attention. “Wait, hold up,” you said quickly, fingers flying across the keyboard. “We’ve got movement. Someone’s heading toward your location. Two guards, second floor.”

Logan’s voice was calm, even as he moved into action. “How long do I have?”

“Not long. They’re coming fast.” Your heart pounded as you watched the dots on the map converge on his location. “You need to get out of there, now.”

“Too late for that,” Logan muttered, the sounds of heavy footsteps echoing through the comms.

“Logan—”

“Don’t worry, Phantom,” he cut you off, and you could hear the smirk in his voice again. “I’ve got this.”

The next thing you heard was the unmistakable sound of fists hitting flesh, followed by a low grunt of pain. You winced, even though you couldn’t see what was happening.

“Logan? Talk to me.”

More sounds of a struggle came through, and then finally, Logan’s voice, slightly breathless but unbothered. “Two down. Told ya, no problem.”

You let out a shaky breath, leaning back in your chair. “Yeah, well, maybe next time don’t wait until the last second to handle it.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, even though your nerves were still on edge. “You’re impossible.”

“That’s what they tell me,” he replied, and you could hear the faint rustle of him moving again. “Alright, I’m at the server. How much time do we need?”

“Give me five minutes,” you said, fingers flying across the keyboard as you initiated the download remotely. “I’m pulling the data now. Just stay put until I finish.”

“Five minutes? Thought you were faster than that, Phantom.”

“Don’t push it, Logan,” you shot back, rolling your eyes even though he couldn’t see you. “I’d like to see you hack into a secured server faster.”

“Maybe I’ll give it a shot one of these days,” he muttered, the humor still in his voice. “Bet I’d be a natural.”

“Please. You’d probably smash the computer before you even logged in.”

“Only if it pissed me off.”

You shook your head, focusing back on the task at hand. “Alright, I’m almost done. Just a few more seconds.”

There was silence on the line for a moment, and you could hear Logan shifting in place, his breaths slow and steady.

“You ever think about doin’ this full time?” he asked suddenly, his voice lower now, more serious.

“Hacking?” you replied, thrown off by the question. “I mean, I’m not exactly doing this for the money. Why?”

“Just curious,” Logan said, and you could tell by his tone that he wasn’t pressing the issue. “Seems like you’re good at it. You could make a real difference.”

You hesitated, fingers hovering over the keys. “I’m already making a difference,” you said softly, your voice quieter than usual. “I don’t need to do it full time to feel like it matters.”

There was a pause, and for a moment, you thought maybe the line had cut out. But then Logan spoke again, his voice low and almost… thoughtful.

“Yeah. Guess you’re right.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that, so you didn’t. Instead, you focused on finishing the download, the soft hum of the servers filling the silence between you.

“Got it,” you said finally, leaning back in your chair with a sigh of relief. “Download’s complete. You’re good to go.”

Logan didn’t reply right away, but you could hear the soft sound of him moving, his footsteps heavy against the concrete floor.

“Logan?” you prompted after a moment, the silence starting to make you uneasy.

“Yeah,” he said finally, his voice a little distant. “I’m on my way out.”

You nodded to yourself, watching his dot move across the map on your screen. “Good. Let’s get you out of there.”

As you guided him back through the warehouse, you couldn’t help but wonder what had changed in his voice during those last few minutes. Something about the way he’d asked that question—about doing this full time—had caught you off guard.

But now wasn’t the time to dwell on it. You had a job to finish, and Logan needed to get out of there safely.

“Alright, you’re clear,” you said once he reached the exit. “No one’s around. Just make sure you don’t—”

“Yeah, I know,” Logan interrupted, and you could hear the smirk in his voice again. “Don’t get shot. You’ve told me a thousand times, Phantom.”

“Then maybe this time you’ll listen,” you shot back, grinning despite yourself.

Logan chuckled, the sound low and rough. “No promises.”

And with that, the line went quiet, leaving you alone in the soft glow of your computer screen.

---

"Alright, your change is $2.87. Have a good one.” You handed the change and a paper bag to the customer, smiling politely. After brushing your hands on your pastel blue apron, you turned to the next person in line. "How can I help—”

You paused mid-sentence as you looked up, surprised to see Ricky standing in front of you with a smirk on his face. You let out an exaggerated sigh. “The regular?”

“Always.” Ricky leaned against the counter, watching you with that usual casual attitude. “You know me too well, Phantom.”

You scoffed lightly at the use of your codename in the middle of your bakery. "Could you not call me that here?" You motioned to the line behind him. “I’d prefer not to blow my cover in front of customers.”

Ricky grinned, clearly enjoying himself. “Relax, I’m just messin’ with you. Your secret’s safe with me.”

You shook your head and started prepping his order, grabbing a coffee and a chocolate croissant, which he always got whenever he visited your bakery. “What are you doing here anyway? Don’t you have something better to do than bother me at work?”

“Maybe I just missed my favorite hacker-slash-baker,” Ricky teased, crossing his arms as he watched you work. “Figured I’d stop by and see how you’re holding up.”

You raised an eyebrow, handing him the coffee. “I’m holding up fine. Business as usual.”

“Yeah. This place looks better than before. New paint job?”

“Actually, no. New tables and chairs.” You replied. Computer programming had always been something you enjoyed and loved, but when you started working for a big tech company, you couldn’t help but feel like your talents were going to waste.

You found Ricky, or rather, Ricky found you, and you were recruited into ‘The Organization’ to take down mutant trafficking rings. You still needed money, so you decided to put to use your other skill, baking. You opened a small bakery in New York City and have been running it for close to 2 years now.

Ricky leaned against the counter, eyeing the new setup. “So this is what you do when you’re not saving the world? Whip up some cupcakes?”

You rolled your eyes as you placed the croissant in a bag. “Something like that. Gotta pay the bills, right?”

Ricky took the bag from you, giving you a knowing smirk. “You know, it’s still hard to picture you as a baker. I keep waiting for the day I come in here, and all the pastries are bugged with tiny microphones.”

You snorted. “Please. Like I’d waste good croissants on something like that.”

He laughed, then took a sip of his coffee. “You heard from Logan?”

Your fingers froze for a split second, but you quickly masked it by busying yourself with wiping down the counter. “Why? Did something happen?”

Ricky raised an eyebrow. “No, not that I know of. Just thought he might’ve reached out, is all.”

You shrugged, trying to keep your tone casual. “He’s probably busy. You know how it is.”

“Mhm.” Ricky gave you a look that suggested he wasn’t buying it. “Right. Busy.”

You shot him a glance. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He grinned, shaking his head. “Nothing, Phantom. Just… you two seem to get along pretty well. That’s all.”

You felt a warmth creeping up the back of your neck and quickly turned away, focusing on the pastries again. “We work well together, if that’s what you mean.”

“Sure, sure,” Ricky said, clearly amused. “Just don’t let ol’ Wolf get too attached. He’s not exactly the sentimental type.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, I’m not worried about that.”

But even as you said it, you couldn’t help but think back to the last mission. The banter, the small moments where Logan seemed to let his guard down—just a little. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make you wonder.

Ricky stood up straight, crumpling the paper bag in his hand. “Alright, Phantom. I’ll leave you to your cupcakes and secret side missions. Just don’t go getting yourself into trouble.”

“Me? Trouble?” you grinned. “Never.”

He chuckled, heading for the door. “Catch you later.”

As soon as he was gone, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Ricky had a way of pushing your buttons just enough to make you think. And now you couldn’t stop replaying your recent conversations with Logan in your head. It was strange—this… thing between you two. He wasn’t like anyone you’d worked with before. And yet, it felt natural, like you’d known each other much longer than a few months.

Your phone buzzed in your apron pocket, snapping you out of your thoughts. You pulled it out and glanced at the screen.

Logan: Got some info for you. When’s your next shift with me?

You bit your lip, your fingers hovering over the keys for a second before you replied.

You: Whenever you need me. What’s the mission?

Logan: I’ll fill you in later. Just be ready.

You: Always am, Wolf.

A short pause, then Logan’s reply came through.

Logan: I know.

You stared at the screen for a moment longer, feeling that familiar flutter in your chest. Shaking your head, you shoved the phone back into your pocket. You had a business to run, after all. There was no time to dwell on this… whatever it was between you and Logan.

But as you served the next customer with a practiced smile, you couldn’t quite shake the feeling that your next mission with him was going to be different. Maybe it already was.

---

“You ever been to New York City?” Logan asked.

You briefly stopped your typing on the keyboard, “maybe. Maybe not. Why?”

Logan’s voice crackled through the earpiece, low and rough as always. “Just curious. Figured you might’ve wandered through at some point, considering how close we’ve been workin’ together.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at the surveillance feed on your screen. “Is this your version of small talk, Wolf? Because I gotta say, you’re not exactly known for that.”

He chuckled. “Nah, just figured it was worth askin’. You ever get outta that basement of yours?”

You leaned back in your chair, smirking to yourself. “I’m not always in a basement, you know. I have other things going on. Like you, sweetie. You focusing on those wires?”

“Sweetie?” Logan’s voice came back with a low growl, amusement lacing his tone. “You know I don’t get distracted easy, darlin’.”

You smirked at the monitor in front of you, watching as he carefully maneuvered through the narrow corridor of the warehouse. “Just making sure. Wouldn’t want to have to bail you out if you trip a wire.”

“Funny,” he muttered. “You’re soundin’ real confident for someone sittin’ comfy at a keyboard.”

“Hey, I’m not comfy,” you shot back, leaning closer to the screen. “I’m on the edge of my seat watching your back.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Logan said, the sound of a door creaking open in the background. “What do you see up ahead?”

You focused on the different camera feeds, your fingers flying over the keys to switch between views. “Two guards in the hallway to your left. Armed. They’re just patrolling, so if you wait about ten seconds, you should be able to slip by.”

“Copy that.” His breathing slowed, the sound of footsteps faint as he pressed himself against the wall. “Tell me somethin’, Phantom. What do you do when you’re not playin’ babysitter for me?”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Logan grunted softly, the sound of his claws extending briefly as he took a peek around the corner. “Yeah, kinda. All I get’s that voice of yours—still gotta figure out the face that goes with it.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. “You’re obsessed, Wolf.”

“Never said I wasn’t.” There was a beat of silence as Logan moved silently down the hallway, bypassing the guards with ease. “But you still didn’t answer me.”

You sighed dramatically, switching to another camera feed that showed a large storage room filled with crates. “What do you think I do? Sit in a dark room, hacking into firewalls all day?”

Logan snorted. “Ain’t that what you’re doin’ now?”

“Touché.” You shifted slightly, watching him take down a lone guard with a quick, precise movement. “But no. I do have a life outside of this, you know.”

“Like what?” He sounded genuinely curious now, and you could almost picture the way his brows would be furrowed in concentration. “You got a family? Friends?”

You paused, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Family? Not really. Friends? Also a stretch. But you didn’t feel like sharing that right now. “I’ve got… a business to run.”

Logan was quiet for a moment. “A business, huh? Didn’t think you’d be the type to deal with customers.”

“Why not?” you shot back. “I’m very good with people, I’ll have you know.”

“Yeah, like the time you almost tore that guy a new one when he questioned your coding?” He chuckled, the sound low and deep in your ear. “Real people person, darlin’.”

“Okay, that was one time.” You rolled your eyes. “And he deserved it. But yeah, I’m pretty good with people—when I want to be.”

“Uh-huh.” There was a rustling noise, like he was checking through one of the crates. “What kinda business?”

You hesitated again. Part of you wanted to keep that piece of your life separate from Logan. But he’d been honest with you about a lot of things—his past, his work, even some of his regrets. It seemed only fair to give a little in return.

“...A bakery,” you finally admitted, almost cringing at how mundane it sounded compared to the world you two operated in.

There was a long pause on the other end. Then—

“A bakery?” Logan repeated, his voice thick with disbelief. “Like… cupcakes and cookies bakery?”

“Yeah, Wolf,” you said dryly, feeling heat creep up your neck. “I bake things. It’s called having a hobby.”

He made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “Just tryin’ to picture it, that’s all. Our resident hacker pullin’ cookies out of the oven.”

“Is that so hard to imagine?” You switched to another feed, tracking his progress through the facility. “I bet you’d like my cookies.”

“Yeah?” There was a hint of teasing in his voice now. “You gonna make some for me sometime?”

You bit your lip, surprised at the sudden flutter in your chest at the thought. “Maybe. If you’re good.”

“Darlin’, I’m always good.”

“Debatable,” you shot back quickly, but your smile softened at the edges. “But I’ll keep that in mind.”

There was another pause, and you could hear Logan’s soft exhale through the comms. “You really own a bakery?”

“Yes, really,” you said, feeling oddly defensive now. “I’m not making it up just to sound cute.”

He chuckled again. “I didn’t think that. Just… didn’t see it comin’, is all. Got any specialties?”

You blinked at the sudden change in tone, a mix of genuine curiosity and something else you couldn’t quite place. “Well, I make a mean chocolate croissant.”

“Chocolate croissant, huh?” He sounded like he was mulling it over. “Could go for one right now.”

“Focus, Wolf,” you teased, but there was a warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with the coffee beside you. “Get through this mission, and maybe I’ll let you try one.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” His voice was low, a promise wrapped in that simple statement.

For a moment, the two of you fell into a comfortable silence. It was strange how easy it felt, talking like this. Like you weren’t two people who only knew each other through voices and screens. Like there was something more.

“Alright, I’m in position,” Logan murmured, breaking the silence. “What’s next?”

You glanced at the feed, spotting the final target. “There’s a control panel just ahead. Shut it down, and we’ll have full access to the data we need.”

“On it.” There was a soft thud as he moved forward, the sound of his claws retracting. “Phantom?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks… for keepin’ me company. Makes this kinda work a little less shit.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you struggled to find your voice for a second. “...Anytime, Wolf.”

And you meant it.

---

After 5 months of The Organization searching, the base of the mutant trafficking ring was finally found. It wasn’t just you and Logan, but other’s out on the field searching, and now things were coming to a head.

Ricky had briefed everyone—the field agents and those, like you, behind the computers. Everyone was in position, and tonight, after months of planning, the mutant trafficking ring was finally going to be shut down.

You took a steadying breath, fingers hovering over your keyboard. The screens in front of you were filled with various feeds: security cameras, schematics of the building, comms channels. It was go-time, and as much as you liked to pretend you were calm, there was a knot of tension in your stomach. You knew what was riding on this mission—innocent lives, and for some reason, your thoughts kept circling back to one person in particular.

“Phantom, you there?” Logan’s voice came through your earpiece, low and steady.

“Yeah, Wolf. Right here.” You sat up a little straighter, adjusting the headset. “You good?”

“Never better.” He sounded almost amused. “How ‘bout you? Keepin’ those fingers of yours nimble?”

You rolled your eyes, even though he couldn’t see it. “I’m ready to go. All feeds are online, and I’ve got eyes on every entrance. You’re at the west side of the building, right?”

“Yep.” He paused, and you heard the faint shuffle of boots against gravel. “What’s your status?”

“Locked and loaded,” you replied, scanning the feeds. “Looks like we’ve got a dozen guards outside, plus more scattered throughout the building. The main target’s in the central office on the second floor. You’ll need to cut through the lower levels to get there.”

“Got it. You got eyes on the others?”

You quickly toggled between the different comms channels, listening in on reports from the other teams. “Everyone’s in position. Team Alpha is covering the south, Bravo’s moving to secure the exit routes. You’re clear to start your approach.”

Logan grunted in acknowledgment, and you watched on one of the monitors as he started moving through the shadows, staying low and out of sight.

“Be careful, Wolf,” you murmured, your voice softer than you intended.

“Careful’s my middle name,” he drawled back, a hint of that signature cockiness coming through. “You just keep those pretty eyes on the feeds and tell me if someone’s gonna try and sneak up on me.”

“Always do,” you shot back, smiling despite the tension in the air.

There was a pause on his end, and then: “What’s the fastest way to the office from here?”

You glanced at the building’s layout, quickly mapping out a route in your head. “Take the staircase to your right, follow the hallway down two doors, then take a left. You should be able to bypass most of the guards that way. Just… watch for the tripwires.”

“Roger that. Stay on me, Phantom.”

“Like I’m ever not.” You kept your eyes glued to the screen as Logan moved through the facility with practiced ease. Despite the tension thrumming through your veins, there was a strange calmness in listening to his breathing over the comms, knowing you were right there with him, even if it was only in a digital sense.

“How’s it look up ahead?” he asked after a few moments of silence.

“Two guards at the end of the hall,” you reported, zooming in on one of the feeds. “They’re armed, but they’re not paying attention. You should be able to take them out quietly.”

Logan didn’t respond, but you saw him slip into the corridor, moving like a shadow. A few seconds later, both guards were down, and he was back on the line. “Clear.”

“Nice work, Wolf.” You leaned forward, fingers flying over the keyboard to hack into the security system. “I’m disabling the cameras on the next floor. You should have a clear path to the office, but I’m picking up some chatter—looks like they’re getting suspicious.”

“Let ‘em get suspicious.” There was a low, dangerous edge to his voice now. “I’m ready.”

You couldn’t help but grin a little. “That makes one of us.”

“C’mon, Phantom, you know you love this shit,” he teased, but there was a warmth in his tone that made your heart skip a beat. “All that adrenaline. Gets the blood pumpin’, doesn’t it?”

You bit your lip, shaking your head even though he couldn’t see you. “I’m not the one out there risking my neck. That’s your job.”

“Yeah, well… you’re doin’ a hell of a job keepin’ me from getting my ass shot off.” There was a pause, and then he added, almost softly, “Don’t know what I’d do without you, darlin’.”

You blinked at the screen, momentarily caught off guard by his words. “...Just stay focused, Wolf. I’m not pulling your ass out of this if you get cocky.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout me, sweetheart. I’m good.” His voice turned serious again as he approached the central office. “I’m at the door. How many inside?”

You quickly cycled through the cameras, counting the figures inside. “Three guards. One unarmed. That’s the target. If you move quick, you should be able to neutralize them before they call for backup.”

“Got it.” Logan’s voice was low, almost a growl. You watched as he shifted his weight, preparing to make his move. It was always a little nerve-wracking, watching him go in like this, but you trusted him. He knew what he was doing.

Your fingers danced over the keyboard, disabling the cameras in the immediate area. “I’m taking out the cameras around the office. You’re clear for entry. Make it fast, Wolf.”

“Don’t worry. I’m on it.” He paused for a beat. “How’s the rest of the team doin’?”

You glanced at the other feeds, tracking the movements of the different teams scattered throughout the building. “Team Alpha just took out the last of the perimeter guards. Bravo’s securing the exits—no one’s getting in or out without us knowing.”

“Good. Let’s end this.” There was a soft click as Logan pushed the door open, slipping inside the office with deadly precision.

The guards barely had time to react. You watched in awe as he took them down with a combination of swift strikes and quick, lethal movements. He was a blur of action, and within seconds, the only people left standing were Logan and the target—an older man who looked like he’d just seen a ghost.

“Please, don’t—” the man stammered, holding up his hands in a pathetic attempt at self-defense.

“Shut up,” Logan growled, grabbing him by the collar and slamming him against the wall. “You’re gonna answer a few questions for me.”

You leaned closer to the screen, keeping an eye on the other guards roaming the hallways. “Careful, Wolf. We don’t know if he’s got any backup on standby.”

“Yeah, I got it.” He gave the man a rough shake. “Who’s runnin’ this operation? Where’s the rest of the mutants you’ve been trafficking?”

The man sputtered, his face pale. “I—I don’t know! I just handle the logistics—transport, security—”

“Bullshit.” Logan’s claws extended with a sharp snikt, and you could hear the man’s terrified gasp even through the comms. “Try again, bub. And don’t lie to me.”

You zoomed in on the screen, checking for any signs of incoming guards. “Logan, I’m picking up movement on the lower levels. It’s not one of ours—looks like reinforcements. You need to hurry.”

“Copy that.” He leaned in closer to the man, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Last chance. Where are the mutants?”

“Storage room—basement level—cage twelve!” The man practically screamed the words, his eyes wide with fear. “Please, I swear, that’s all I know!”

“Storage room, basement level, cage twelve,” you repeated quickly, already pulling up the layout of the basement. “I’m sending the coordinates to Team Bravo now.”

“Good.” Logan released the man, who slumped to the floor, trembling. He stepped back, claws retracting. “Now sit tight. You’re gonna have some company soon.”

The man whimpered but didn’t move as Logan turned and made his way out of the office. You switched your focus back to the basement, watching as Team Bravo moved in to secure the mutants.

“They’re in position,” you reported, keeping your voice calm. “Looks like… ten, no, twelve mutants total. All of them are alive.”

“Alive, huh?” Logan’s voice softened just a fraction. “That’s somethin’, at least.”

“Yeah.” You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. After months of hunting down leads, false starts, and dead ends, it was finally coming together. “We did it, Wolf.”

“Not yet, we haven’t.” His tone turned serious again. “We still gotta get ‘em outta here. You got a path?”

“Working on it.” Your fingers flew over the keyboard, pulling up the building’s blueprints. “Okay, there’s an access tunnel two levels down from where you are. It leads straight to an underground parking garage. If you can get them there, we’ll have transport waiting.”

“Got it. I’ll head down now.” He paused for a moment, then added quietly, “Good work, Phantom.”

You felt a warmth spread through you at the unexpected praise. “Same to you, Wolf. Just… stay safe, okay?”

There was a soft chuckle on the other end. “Don’t you worry ‘bout me, darlin’. You just keep doin’ what you do best.”

You stayed on the line, guiding him through the lower levels as he made his way to the basement. The rest of the mission went off like clockwork—Team Bravo secured the mutants, Team Alpha kept the perimeter locked down, and Logan made sure no one got in their way.

By the time it was all over, the mutants were safe, the ring was shut down, and the remaining traffickers were either captured or taken out. It was a resounding success, and yet, as you watched Logan emerge from the building, something inside you felt… off.

“Logan?” you called out softly, your voice hesitant. “You good?”

“Yeah. Just tired.” He sounded a little rough around the edges, but that was to be expected after a mission like this. “What about you? You doin’ okay?”

You let out a soft breath, leaning back in your chair. “Yeah, I’m good. Just… glad it’s over, I guess.”

“Yeah.” There was a pause, and then he added, “You did good tonight, Phantom. Real good.”

“Thanks, Wolf.” You smiled, even though he couldn’t see it. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

He grunted softly, the sound almost affectionate. “Bet you say that to all the guys you babysit.”

“Only the ones I like,” you teased, feeling a little bolder now that the mission was over. “But seriously… thanks for trusting me out there. I know it’s not easy.”

“Trust ain’t somethin’ I give lightly,” he murmured, his voice low and sincere. “But you earned it. Over and over.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you settled for a soft, “...I’m glad.”

There was another beat of silence, and then Logan’s voice came back, a little lighter. “So, when am I gettin’ that chocolate croissant?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Guess you’ll just have to swing by my bakery sometime, huh?”

“Maybe I will.” He sounded thoughtful, like he was considering it for the first time. “Soon as I figure out where the hell it is.”

“Good luck with that,” you teased, feeling a strange mix of excitement and nerves. “But if you do find it… first croissant’s on me.”

“I’ll hold you to that, darlin’.” There was a warm, teasing lilt to his voice now. “Take care, Phantom.”

“You too, Wolf.”

And with that, the line went quiet. You stared at the screen for a moment longer, a smile tugging at your lips. It wasn’t much, but it felt like a step—toward something new, something real.

Maybe one day, you’d get to see the look on Logan’s face when he finally tasted one of your croissants.

But for now, this was enough.

---

It had been a few weeks since the mutant trafficking ring was taken down, and since then, things from The Organization had been quiet. You were sure that soon, something would happen, and you’d have a new mission or cause to fight for, but for now, life was… normal. Or, as normal as things could get for you.

During the day, you focused on your bakery. The smell of freshly baked bread and sweet pastries filled the small space, the steady hum of business keeping you busy. You didn’t have to think about The Organization or anything outside of kneading dough and serving customers. It was a welcome change of pace, a grounding routine that gave you some much-needed breathing room.

But at night, when the bakery was closed and the streets outside your shop went quiet, your mind wandered back to Logan—and those long conversations over the comms. The teasing back and forth. The gruff but genuine praise. The way he’d been so protective of you, even when you were just a voice in his ear.

You leaned against the counter, wiping your hands on your apron as you glanced around your empty shop. The bell above the door jingled, and you glanced up, expecting to see one of your regulars who’d forgotten to grab something before closing.

But it wasn’t one of your regulars.

It was him.

Logan.

He stood in the doorway, his broad frame almost filling it completely. A beat of silence passed as you stared at each other, and then he stepped inside, his boots making a soft thud against the wooden floor.

“Hey, darlin’.” His voice was the same deep, rough tone you remembered, and yet hearing it in person made your heart skip a beat. He glanced around the bakery, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Figured I’d finally swing by and see if your croissants live up to the hype.”

For a moment, you couldn’t speak. He was here. Here. In your bakery, standing in front of you like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Logan?” You blinked, trying to wrap your mind around it. “How—how did you find me?”

He shrugged like it was nothing, but there was a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Did a little diggin’. Asked around. Turns out you’re not as good at hiding as you think.”

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks, a mix of surprise and… something else. “And you just—decided to show up out of nowhere?”

“Thought you could use some company,” he replied easily, but there was a seriousness in his gaze that told you this wasn’t just a casual visit. “Been too quiet lately. I don’t do quiet well.”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

“Neither can I,” he murmured, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before he glanced at the display case filled with pastries. “But since I am… you gonna give me that croissant, or what?”

The corner of your mouth lifted, and you reached behind the counter, pulling out a fresh chocolate croissant. You placed it on a small plate, sliding it across to him. “First one’s on the house, remember?”

Logan took the plate, his fingers brushing against yours for the briefest of moments. A spark shot through you, but you quickly pulled your hand back, pretending like it hadn’t happened.

He lifted the croissant, inspecting it with a critical eye before taking a bite. You watched, holding your breath as he chewed thoughtfully. Then, he swallowed and nodded.

“Not bad, Phantom. Not bad at all.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, a smile breaking out on your face. “Just ‘not bad?’ I think I’m a little insulted.”

He chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Okay, fine. It’s good. Real good.” He took another bite, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t ya?”

“I could say the same about you.” You leaned against the counter, studying him. In the soft light of the bakery, he looked a little more relaxed, less guarded. There was still that roughness to him, but there was something else, too—a quiet sort of contentment. “So, what’s the real reason you’re here, Logan?”

He raised an eyebrow, finishing off the croissant before setting the plate down. “What, a guy can’t visit his favorite hacker?”

“Nice try.” You gave him a look, crossing your arms. “But I know you better than that.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Maybe I just wanted to see for myself that you’re okay. That this place is real. That you’re… real.”

You felt something tighten in your chest, your gaze softening. “I’m real, Logan. You know that.”

“Yeah.” He looked around again, as if trying to memorize every detail of your little shop. “But it’s different, seein’ it with my own eyes.”

There was a weight to his words, a sincerity that made your heart ache a little. You’d spent so many nights talking to him, listening to his voice, getting to know him in a way that felt almost… intimate. And now he was here, standing in front of you, and it felt like a dream.

“Do you—” You hesitated, biting your lip. “Do you want to stay for a bit? I’ve got coffee. Or tea, if that’s more your style.”

Logan’s lips twitched into a small smile. “Coffee sounds good.”

You turned to make a fresh pot, your hands moving on autopilot as your mind raced. What did this mean? Why now? You’d thought maybe, someday, you’d meet Logan in person, but you hadn’t expected it to be like this—so sudden, so… normal.

“So,” Logan drawled, leaning against the counter as he watched you, “what’s next for you? Gonna hang up your hacker hat and just focus on bakin’?”

You glanced over your shoulder, giving him a wry smile. “You think I could actually stay out of trouble for long?”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Nah. Don’t think you’re cut out for the quiet life, darlin’.”

“Guess we have that in common, huh?” You poured the coffee, sliding a mug over to him. “But for now… I’m taking a little break. I think I’ve earned it.”

“Yeah, you have.” He took the mug, his fingers brushing against yours again. This time, neither of you pulled away. “So… what’s the plan now? Just you and the bakery?”

“For now.” You shrugged, looking around the shop. “It’s nice. Calming, even. Keeps me grounded.”

Logan studied you for a long moment, his gaze intent. “You know, I never pictured you like this. With flour on your apron and—what’s that?” He reached out, brushing his thumb lightly against your cheek. “Frostin’ on your face?”

You froze at the contact, your breath catching in your throat. His touch was surprisingly gentle, the roughness of his thumb contrasting with the softness of your skin. You stared at him, caught off guard by the sudden intimacy of the moment.

“I—uh—” You cleared your throat, feeling your face heat up. “Occupational hazard, I guess.”

“Hmm.” His thumb lingered for a heartbeat longer, then he pulled back, his expression softening. “Guess it suits you.”

You swallowed, trying to steady your racing heart. “What about you? What’s next for the great Wolverine? Gonna go back to the X-Men?”

Logan chuckled, leaning back slightly as he sipped his coffee. “Who said I ever left? Maybe I was doin’ this as my side job.”

You raised an eyebrow, giving him a playful look. “Oh, so the big bad Wolverine has a side hustle now? Should I be worried you’re going to start making croissants too?”

He smirked. “Nah, I’ll leave the bakin’ to you. But maybe I’ll stick around, see how things go.” His eyes held yours, that familiar teasing edge mixed with something else—a quiet intensity.

“Stick around?” you asked, not entirely sure where he was going with this. “In New York? Thought you weren’t a fan of big cities.”

Logan shrugged, his gaze flicking around your cozy bakery again. “It grows on ya. Plus, I got reasons to hang around now.”

The way he said it, so casual but pointed, made your heart skip a beat. “Reasons, huh?”

He leaned forward, setting his mug down on the counter. “Yeah, Phantom. You think I spent all those nights listenin’ to you talk, gettin’ to know you, just to go back to business as usual?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the directness of his words. You tried to bring things back to normal, to calm your racing heart, but perhaps you only made it worse with his response. “Y- you don’t have to call me that, you know? Or- anymore, at least.”

Logan’s eyes locked onto yours, a spark of curiosity flickering in his gaze. He leaned forward, elbows resting on the counter. “Oh yeah? So, what should I call ya?”

You hesitated, feeling the weight of his question. It was such a simple thing—your real name. Something you’d kept hidden, not out of fear, but because keeping a wall between your real life and Phantom had made things… easier. Safer, even. But you felt safe with him standing in front of you, even if it was the first time meeting face to face.

“Y/N.” You finally said, quietly with a small smile.

Logan’s eyes softened, something shifting in his expression as he repeated your name—almost testing it out. “Y/N, huh? Suits you.”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool despite the warmth spreading through your chest. “Figured it was time to be on a first-name basis, Wolf.”

His lips twitched into a smirk at the nickname. “Wolf,” he repeated, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation. “You’ve been callin’ me that for months. Thought you’d drop it once I was standin’ right in front of ya.”

“Why would I do that?” you shot back, your smile growing a little more confident. “It suits you, Wolf.”

Logan chuckled, shaking his head. “Fair enough.” He leaned back, his gaze never leaving yours. “Guess I’ll stick with ‘Phantom’ for old times’ sake.”

“‘Y/N’ is fine,” you said softly. “I think we’re past codenames.”

He nodded slowly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Y/N, then.” The way he said it—slow and deliberate—made your heart flutter. There was something so personal about it, so… intimate. You’d spent so long hiding behind ‘Phantom’ that hearing your real name in his voice felt almost surreal.

You glanced down at the counter, clearing your throat to break the tension. “So,” you said slowly, a hint of mischief creeping into your tone, “now that you’ve tried my croissants, what’s next on the list? Gonna critique my muffins too?”

Logan’s smirk widened, his eyes glinting. “Oh, I’m definitely stickin’ around long enough to try everything on that menu, darlin’. Gotta make sure it’s all up to snuff.”

“Uh-huh. Just don’t expect me to bake for you every day,” you teased, but there was a warmth in your voice that you couldn’t quite hide.

“I dunno,” he drawled, leaning forward slightly, his voice dropping to a lower, more intimate tone. “Kinda like the idea of you makin’ me breakfast.”

Your heart skipped a beat, your breath catching in your throat. You chuckled back at him, putting the towel in your hand over your shoulder, “yeah? Bet you say that to all the women you meet.”

Logan’s smirk grew, the corner of his mouth lifting in that way you’d come to recognize as trouble. “You think I go around findin’ bakeries just to get breakfast from pretty hackers?”

“Pretty hackers?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “Didn’t know I was your type, Wolf.”

He shrugged, leaning back in his chair with an easy confidence. “You’re my type if you keep makin’ croissants like that.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Nice recovery.”

There was a beat of silence, and Logan’s smirk softened, replaced by a more thoughtful look. His eyes swept around the shop again, taking in the cozy space as if trying to understand something deeper about it—about you.

“This place,” he said quietly, breaking the silence. “It’s yours, huh?”

“Yeah,” you replied, a touch of pride in your voice. “Bought it a couple of years ago. Did most of the renovations myself. Not the hacking kind, though.”

Logan nodded, his gaze lingering on the shelves lined with baked goods and the flour-dusted counter. “Figured you’d be in some high-tech lab or somethin’. Not… this.”

You smiled, glancing around your bakery. “What? Don’t think I can bake and hack at the same time?”

“Nah, it’s not that.” He paused, his brow furrowing slightly as if he were searching for the right words. “Guess I just never thought about what your life looked like when you weren’t on a mission.”

“Well,” you said softly, meeting his eyes. “This is it. Flour, sugar, and a whole lot of early mornings.”

Logan tilted his head, studying you like he was seeing a whole new side of you. “It suits ya.”

You shrugged, feeling a bit exposed under his gaze. “It’s not as exciting as fighting bad guys, but… it’s mine.”

“Doesn’t have to be exciting all the time,” he murmured. His voice was quieter now, more serious, and it made you pause. “Sometimes… it’s the quiet stuff that matters.”

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words, your heart doing that annoying fluttering thing it did whenever he got unexpectedly sincere. “Yeah, well, quiet doesn’t seem to be your style, Logan.”

He chuckled, a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. “Yeah, guess not. But maybe I’m workin’ on that.”

You gave him a playful smirk. “You? Working on ‘quiet’? I’ll believe it when I see it.”

He leaned forward, his arms resting on the counter as he looked at you, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Maybe you’ll see it sooner than you think.”

Your teasing smile faltered slightly, your heartbeat picking up again. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Logan held your gaze for a long moment, something unspoken hanging in the air between you. “Means I’m stickin’ around, Y/N. If you’re okay with that.”

Your breath caught at the way he said your name—your real name, not Phantom. There was a weight to it, like he wasn’t just talking about the bakery or the city. He was talking about you.

“Logan,” you started, your voice a little shaky as you tried to keep it light, “are you saying you want to be a regular customer?”

He smirked, but the seriousness in his eyes didn’t fade. “Somethin’ like that. Thought maybe I’d get to know the person behind the croissants… and the computer screens.”

Your heart raced, and you couldn’t help but smile, even though you felt a little breathless. “Well, considering you just showed up without a warning, I’d say you’re off to a good start.”

Logan’s smirk widened. “Always liked makin’ an entrance.”

“Yeah, well,” you said, shaking your head, “next time, maybe give a girl a little heads-up.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he teased, though his voice had softened.

You didn’t have a snappy comeback for that, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The bakery felt smaller, quieter, like the world outside had paused, leaving just the two of you in this little bubble. You’d known him for months, heard his voice in your ear during some of the craziest situations, but this—standing here in the same room, with him right there—felt different. Real.

“So,” you said after a beat, your voice a little quieter now, “what’s the plan? You just gonna hang out in New York for a while? Or…?”

Logan shrugged, but there was something thoughtful in his expression. “Dunno. Figure I’ll stick around, see how things play out. Been on the move too long. Might be time to slow down a bit.”

“Slow down?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow. “You?”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, I know. Doesn’t sound like me, does it?”

You smiled, leaning against the counter. “Well, if you’re serious about sticking around, you’d better be ready for a lot of early mornings.”

Logan’s gaze flicked to the flour on your apron and the slight mess on the counter. “Early mornings, huh? Guess I can handle that. Long as there’s coffee.”

You laughed softly, feeling that familiar warmth in your chest again. “I think I can manage that.”

There was another pause, but this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of quiet that felt… nice. Like neither of you were in a rush to fill the space with words.

Finally, Logan straightened up, glancing toward the door. “Guess I’ll let ya get back to it. Don’t wanna keep you too long.”

You felt a flicker of disappointment, but you quickly pushed it down, giving him a smile instead. “You’re always welcome, you know. Next time, I’ll save you a muffin.”

Logan’s smirk returned, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “I’ll hold you to that, darlin’.”

He took a step toward the door, but then he paused, glancing back at you. “Y/N?”

“Yeah?” you asked, your heart skipping a beat at the way he said your name again.

“Don’t be a stranger,” he said softly, his gaze holding yours for just a moment longer before he turned and walked out the door, the bell above it jingling softly in his wake.

You stood there for a long moment, staring at the door long after he was gone, your heart still racing.

---

Logan’s unexpected visit left you in a whirlwind. For the next few days, it was hard to focus on the usual routines of the bakery. Each time the bell over the door chimed, your heart leapt a little, thinking maybe, just maybe, it’d be him again. But Logan didn’t show, and you tried to remind yourself not to overthink it. He was just… being Logan. Coming and going as he pleased, without a word or explanation.

But then, one evening, just as you were flipping the Open sign to Closed, you noticed something slipped under the door—a folded piece of paper with your name scrawled across it in a familiar, rugged handwriting.

You picked it up, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, and opened it.

Got a place in mind. Be ready at 7. —W

No address. No other details. Just a time and a cryptic note.

You found yourself smiling despite your confusion. Of course, he’d pull something like this. He couldn’t just ask you to dinner like a normal person—he had to be all mysterious about it. But then again, it was part of his charm.

The day passed in a blur. By the time you were getting ready, nerves had settled in. What exactly did Logan mean by ‘got a place in mind’? Was this a date? Just… friends hanging out?

You pushed the thoughts away and focused on getting dressed. Something casual, but not too casual. Comfortable, but still showing you’d put in some effort. You settled on a pair of well-fitting jeans and a soft sweater that was flattering but not over-the-top.

Right at 7, there was a soft knock on your door. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself, and opened it.

Logan stood there, looking the same as always and yet… different. Maybe it was the way he’d traded his usual jacket for a dark button-down, or the fact that he looked a bit unsure himself, his gaze flicking over you in silent appraisal before settling on your eyes.

“You look good,” he said, his voice gruff, but there was an honesty in his tone that made your cheeks warm.

“Not bad yourself, Wolf,” you replied, earning a small, almost shy smile from him.

“Ready?” he asked, holding out his hand.

“Ready,” you confirmed, and you stepped outside, locking the door behind you.

---

Logan had borrowed a bike—one of those big, heavy motorcycles that roared to life when he turned the ignition. He tossed you a helmet, then helped you onto the back. Your hands found their way around his waist, your fingers brushing against the fabric of his shirt, and for a moment, the world seemed to narrow down to just that—your arms around him, the rumble of the engine beneath you, and the feel of his solid form against you.

“Hold on tight, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice low and rough in a way that made you shiver.

The ride through the city was exhilarating, the cool night air whipping past you as Logan navigated the streets with ease. You had no idea where he was taking you, but you trusted him. You’d always trusted him.

Finally, he pulled up to a secluded spot along the East River, away from the usual tourist traps and bustling crowds. You could see the lights of the city skyline reflected in the water, the soft sounds of the river lapping at the shore creating a serene backdrop. There was a small wooden table set up nearby, with a blanket laid out and a picnic basket resting on top of it.

You blinked in surprise, glancing between the setup and Logan. “Did… did you do this?”

Logan rubbed the back of his neck, looking uncharacteristically sheepish. “Yeah, well. Figured we’ve had enough high-stakes meetin’s. Thought you deserved somethin’ different.”

Your heart melted a little at that. He’d gone through the trouble of planning something just for you—a quiet evening, just the two of you, away from the chaos of missions and comms.

“It’s perfect,” you said softly, meeting his eyes.

He gave a small nod, visibly relieved by your reaction. “Good. Now c’mon, let’s eat before it gets too cold.”

The two of you settled down at the table, and you couldn’t help but smile as Logan unpacked the basket. It was mostly simple stuff—sandwiches, fruit, a bottle of wine—but there was an almost endearing quality to it, like he’d put in effort but hadn’t tried to overdo it.

“Didn’t know what you liked, so I kinda… winged it,” he admitted, glancing at you almost nervously.

“It’s perfect,” you repeated, smiling at him. “And honestly? I’m just happy you’re here.”

Logan’s gaze softened, his eyes lingering on you in that way that made your stomach flip. “Yeah. Me too.”

The conversation flowed easily after that. You talked about everything and nothing—the bakery, old missions, even random bits about your lives that had never come up before. He was surprisingly open, and you found yourself sharing more than you usually would, the relaxed atmosphere making it easy to let your guard down.

As the evening went on, you found yourself inching closer to him. At some point, the two of you ended up side by side on the blanket, the picnic basket forgotten as you stared out at the lights reflecting on the water.

There was a comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t need to be filled. You glanced over at Logan, feeling that familiar flutter in your chest. He was looking at you with an expression that was hard to read—soft, almost contemplative.

“What?” you asked softly, feeling a little self-conscious under his gaze.

“Just thinkin’,” he murmured, his voice low and rumbling. “You’re even prettier in person, you know that?”

You felt your face heat up, and you looked away, letting out a soft laugh. “Logan—”

“I mean it,” he interrupted gently, reaching out to brush your cheek. His touch was light, tentative, like he wasn’t quite sure if it was okay. “Been drivin’ myself crazy, wonderin’ what you’d look like. But seein’ you now… Hell, Y/N, I don’t think I did you justice.”

Your breath caught at the way he said your name, his gaze intense and unwavering. There was something raw and honest in his expression, like he was laying himself bare in a way you hadn’t expected.

“Logan…” you whispered, the words dying on your lips as he leaned in, his face inches from yours.

“I shouldn’t be doin’ this,” he murmured, his voice low and almost regretful. But he didn’t move away. If anything, he shifted closer, his breath brushing against your skin. “But I’ve been wantin’ to since the moment I heard your voice.”

Your heart was pounding, every nerve in your body alive with anticipation. “Then don’t stop,” you whispered, your own voice trembling.

Logan’s gaze flicked down to your lips, and for a heartbeat, everything seemed to freeze. Then, slowly—like he was giving you every chance to pull away—he closed the distance, his lips brushing against yours in the softest, most tentative of kisses.

It was gentle at first, like he was testing the waters, but when you didn’t pull back—when you leaned in, your fingers tangling in the front of his shirt—something seemed to break. He deepened the kiss, his hand sliding up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

The kiss was everything you hadn’t known you’d been waiting for—slow and sweet, but with an underlying intensity that left you breathless. You melted into him, the world around you fading away until there was nothing left but the feel of his lips on yours and the warmth of his hand against your cheek.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, you were both breathing hard, your hearts racing in sync.

“Damn, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice rough and low. “Didn’t think it’d feel like that.”

You laughed softly, your own voice a little shaky. “Yeah. Me neither.”

Logan smiled—a real, genuine smile that made your heart ache. “Think we should do it again?”

You grinned up at him, feeling lighter than you had in ages. “Yeah, Wolf. I think we should.”

[forgeofthenine]

Omg in the last few posts you were talking about heat as in temperature but my brain registered it as something COMPLETELY different and it got me thinking…

What if tieflings had some kind of a heat cycle and they get extra sensitive and desperate because of it?? I can imagine Zevlor and Rolan being super embarrassed or nervous to bring it up, maybe Dammon’s more chill about it but still extra needy

So, this has absolutely been a passing thought in my mind and as soon as this request came in I knew I just had to push it to the front of my request queue, purely for my own mental health lol

Gotta admit, I'm a fan of omegaverse dynamics and I actually looked a little into irl animal biology and mating behaviour to get a better feel for what I think tieflings would be the most like. So this has both general headcanons and some NSFW headcanons for the individual bachelors

You probably didn't expect quite this much (over a thousand words of tief content) when requesting but this had me in a chokehold, I hope everyone enjoys <3

TW: NSFW under the cut, very heavy breeding kink, overstimulation, alpha/omega adjacent dynamics

Tiefling NSFW heat and rut headcanons

General

So, I feel like once all tiefs reach sexual maturity they'll start to either have heats or ruts, depending on their biology

Anyone with female biology will have a heat, and I feel like they'd have heats similar to cats but with a slightly longer time between heats

So generally they'd have a heat every two to three months or so unless they're pregnant or have other health issues

For the ones with male biology they'd definitely have a rut

They'd follow similar patterns to the women, but it's not unusual for some tieflings to have longer stretches between their ruts if they don't have a partner

A single tiefling that isn't particularly sexually active might only go into rut once or twice a year

I do think a male tiefling could prematurely go into rut if exposed to a females heat, and couples that have been together for a while will sync up

They have pretty typical heat and rut behaviours with nesting, possessiveness, and a pretty undeniable breeding kink

Nesting, possessiveness, and general mood shifts tend to start setting in during pre-heats and pre-ruts

Pre-heats and pre-ruts can last two to five days, and a full heat and rut can last anywhere from two days to a full week depending on the individual

In saying that, having a partner can definitely shorten both heats and ruts, so single tieflings working through things by themselves will have longer heats or ruts

Heats and ruts can also become more painful the longer they go on without the relief of a sexual partner

Tieflings can tell when others are in heat and rut mostly through pheromones, but a female tieflings tail will also involuntarily lift when she's in pre-heat/heat and around a male

I wonder if I should go so far as to headcanon that they have knots, I did already give them all ridged dicks

Dammon

If you and Dammon aren't dating then he'll be much more shy about his ruts

He basically disappears from his forge and the public for a few days and then comes back as if nothing happened

Once you start dating him is when you find out why he pulls the disappearing act

Dammon is actually very open about it now you're both together and have already been intimate

Blushes slightly while trying to explain some of the more physical, primal aspects

Would flush even more if you tell him you find the whole thing incredibly attractive

The next time he has his rut, you're the only person allowed to see him, and he really is a sight

Naked and tangled in his sheets, all flushed and tense, undeniably hard as he palms himself while looking over at you

Even the way he strips you of your clothing is different, he just about rips it off you as he kisses and nips down your neck and chest

While Dammon is usually one to take his time with making you feel good when he's in rut the only thing on his mind is getting to cum

Though even in his hazy mind frame he still makes sure you're comfortable the whole time

Even a near sex crazed and highly hormonal Dammon is still a very caring partner

You know he's going to bend you in half as he fucks you, he just loves how good you look underneath him like that

Breeding kink go brrrr

This man always fucks like he's trying to breed you but it's off the charts when he's in rut

I hope you're ready to be fucked within an inch of your life because his refractory period ceases to exist

Absolutely watches as he pulls out of you and some of him cum leaks out because he's stuffed you so full

Dammon praises you so well too, you can not shut up this man and his dirty talk

"That's it gorgeous, you take my cock so well."

"You gonna make me a daddy, darling? 'm gonna knock you up, full you up with my cum."

Once his rut dies down enough, he'll scoop you up for a bath

There is no way you could stand after the way this man just wrecked you-

Dammon takes very good care of you, and then you do it all again the next day

Zevlor

Whether you're dating Zevlor or not, he's your personal wealth of knowledge on everything tiefling

So what do you do when a book you read mentions 'the times of year and conditions unique to tieflings' and doesn't explain it?

You go and find your favourite paladin

Zevlor is so embarrassed, dating or not, explaining to you how tiefling heats and ruts work

Can't even keep his eyes on you

When you two are dating and you realise you didn't see him at all yesterday, it's time to go hunting for the man

You have an idea of what might be going on but nothing prepares you for what you find

Much like Dammon, you find him tangled in his bed sheets desperately trying to get himself off

He lets out the sexiest groan when he sees you standing there

He's the gentlest of the three while working through his rut

Even then, Zevlor is noticeably rougher with you than usual

Has you in a missionary position, his whole body pressed to yours as he pants in your ear and thrusts into you

Zevlor can't keep his hands off you when he's in rut, they're all over your hips and chest and giving light tugs to your hair

He gives into the primal need to mark you too, it's the only time he'll give you hickeys

Breeding kink: the sequel

Absolutely tells you he's going to breed you, and fucks you like he means it

Doesn't even think as he uses his hands and tail to spread your legs so he can fuck you deeper

Zevlor loves to look at the way you tremble every time he fills you with cum, using his fingers to help you get off at the same time

Even while he's trying to find his own relief, he makes sure to make you cum so many times you end up overstimulated and about to cry from the pleasure

Definitely has you cockwarm him as the two of rest, the thought of you keeping his seed so deep in you until it takes just gets him going again

You'll know he's ready for another round when Zevlor starts grinding himself into you again

When the worst of his rut is over he gives you the best massages

Apologises so profusely too the first few times you help him through his rut, even if you tell him how much you like it

Rolan

There is no way Rolan is ever telling you anything about heats and ruts

Absolutely forbidd his siblings from mentioning it too, he's just way too embarrassed for you to know

Even when you guys are dating he just locks himself away in his tower for a week while he works through it and recovers

This man will not tell you anything

And then he forgets to lock the door

As soon as you open it you're met with the sight of a whiney, teary eyed Rolan trying to get off by grinding against a pillow in desperation

Unlike with the other two, there's no clear 'top' when you're with Rolan during his rut

He loves having you ride him until he sees stars just as much as he wants to bend you over his desk until everyone else in Ramaziths tower can hear you scream

Rolan loves hearing you when he's in rut

Yell his name, tell him that you belong to him, tell him how good he fucks you, say he looks so pretty when you ride him-

He loves all of it so much

He's also the one that bites you the hardest, expect him to draw at least a little bit of blood by accident

Breeding kink: the trilogy

Rolan isn't letting you leave the room unless he's knocked you up

Absolutely puts a fertility spell on you by brushing his hand over your lower belly and murmuring the words

He also refuses to pull out unless it's to change positions, and if any cum leaks out of you he'll push it back in with his fingers

Overstimulation is the name of the game with Rolan, he wants you both overstimulated and crying and completely fucked out

This man believes in equality and we love him for it

The youngest of the tiefling bachelors and definitely the most pent up, it'll take all day before he calms down enough for the two of you to rest

When things do calm down, after he makes sure you're both clean and fed, Rolan wraps you up with him in his bed and will read to you

It's his own personal flavour of aftercare, cuddling and reading your favourite book as he makes sure you're comfortable and happy

And it all starts over when you wake up the next morning with him hard as a rock against your ass

[tickettride]

Danger zone || B.C.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

pairing is benny cross x reader

in which your job at the bikeriders bar turns out to be riskier than expected, and one gunshot is all Johnny needs to send you away. Benny takes you to the motel to protect you. but is it really safe when you don't even know him?

word count: 3,3k

warnings: multiple mentions of death, murder and violence, forced proximity, panic attack and angst, reader is freaking out, some comfort because I’m not evil

Around midnight, you drained the last swallow of your beer and wiped the droplets dribbling down your chin with your thumb. 

Drinking was one of the advantages of working there. You could have a glass or two and none of the men would even bat an eye or notice. They were too engrossed in their own activities, whether it was playing pool or smoking at a table. It also included listening in on conversations the men wouldn’t normally have in front of strangers. If the threats and secrets had creeped you out on the first days, you didn’t worry so much now. 

The place reeked of cheap cigarettes and the gruff laughs of the regulars filtered the warm air. It wasn’t the cleanest nor the calmest place, but you found it safe most of the time. Mostly thanks to all those men, determined to proclaim the place as their own. 

Weeks ago, on a stormy day similar to this one, you had run to the bar and pounded relentlessly on the door. After a few seconds, a head had popped out, dark eyes narrowed down at you. Those irises had made you step back, unsure for a second. 

“What do you want, kid?” the rough voice had asked you, visibly in a hurry.

You couldn’t remember the exact words you had told Johnny then. Something along the lines of ‘Please, I need a job, I’ll do anything you want’. And it had worked–only on the second day of begging. Probably annoyed by your insistence, the boss of the club had opened the door under a few conditions. 

What happened in the bar stayed in the bar. No questions, no knocking around with the guys. Johnny had suggested you could sweep the floor at first, visibly unsure of what he was getting himself into. And here you were, a few weeks after, cleaning the place from the tiny office to the pool cues and doing most of the bartending when the place was crowded. Your role was still ambiguous, but the men knew better than to talk to you about personal urges or demands. Johnny would kill them, you had no doubt. And you just needed the money to help your mother out. 

In fact, despite the forced compliments and the invitations to have a drink somewhere calmer, you had found some sort of serenity there.

Wahoo and Corky had forced some kind of friendship with you and now shared the most gruesome details of their adventures. Cal always asked you how you were. Benny was… Benny.

Johnny had swiftly introduced you to everyone one night, and Benny had practically been the only one to ignore you. Since then, you didn’t pay much attention to him. 

You weren’t here to make friends anyway.

“You should go home now,” Johnny’s voice echoed in your ear, startling you. “It’s gettin’ late.”

Setting the beer down, you turned around to glance across the bar. Nothing seemed off. Corky waved an eyebrow at you from his table, beckoning you to come and join their game. The others were playing pool as usual, a hanging bulb above their heads. Barely enough to light Benny standing in the corner, cue in hand. 

You met his eyes for a second and faced Johnny again, scratching your neck nervously. 

“Look, if it’s because I’ve drunk a beer or two tonight…”

“Three,” Johnny cut you off, looking as nervous as you. “I don’t give a fuck. You remember the kids from yesterday? Hmm?”

How could you forget? They had walked in like they owned the place and insisted that the guys go outside to have a look at their damn motorbikes. After a few seconds of standing behind the bar, terrified that they were coming for you, you had heard their bones cracking and swiftly pretended to be wiping the dirty counter. The beer stains were engraved into the wood, no matter how hard you rubbed the surface. You supposed it would be the same for you; some issues would always remain, no matter the cover. 

“Yeah,” the word coming out of your mouth sounded weak, so you repeated it a bit louder. 

Johnny nodded at you almost fatherly, a toothpick hanging from his lips.

“I think they’ll come back tonight,” he told you. “Cause a bit of trouble.”

Crossing your arms across your chest, you shifted on your feet and hoped you looked at least a bit tough while feigning insouciance. “Well, I’ve seen it before, y’know. It's not the first time y'all fight like beasts."

“I want you to go home,” Johnny nodded at you like you were a moron, staring down at you until your shoulders slumped. “Don't know what they’re capable of.”

Shit, you thought.

“I really need the money, though,” you added, hoping to draw some empathy from him. 

“And I really don’t need an innocent girl on my floor.”

You could almost picture yourself lying there, in the silence that followed the panic and the screams. Would it be so terrible to be freed from this life?

Sighing, you tried to find the right words to convince him you were fine. You had seen plenty of broken nose by then. You were almost immunized. 

“I’m just saying–”

That’s when the first gunshot echoed. Fear gripped your heart in a tight fist, and you saw that image of you again. Your dreams vanished, as though they had never existed in the first place.

Actually, you could wait a bit before dying. 

Johnny yelled at you to move, the shock leaving your fingertips buzzing. Another gunshot crossed the room and a framed picture burst out in pieces just above your head. Yet, your scream was stuck behind the panic blockading your throat.

Falling to your knees, you ignored the pain shooting up your thighs and hid your ears, unable to make a decision now that Johnny had gone. Were you supposed to run away and get killed like a fucking rabbit? Stay there, hidden, until they found you?

A yelp broke free from your mouth when you suddenly felt an arm around your shoulders. 

Benny’s face had never been so close to yours.

His expression was always so blank, almost emotionless, you had noticed. But then… concern was etched between his eyebrows, anger broiling beneath his muscles. There was something behind those eyes, and you could only wish it wouldn't harm you somehow.

“C’mon. Come with me,” he only said, his hand sliding down your arm to catch your hand.

Time slowed down for a second. But Benny’s touch was grounding you, gazing at your face like you were just a deer in a forest of monsters. So with a quick nod, obediently, you squeezed Benny’s hand and ran with him, holding his hand for dear life. After all, he was holding your life between his hands. You weren’t even sure why you blindly trusted him in the first place. 

Benny slipped into the hallway and you did the same, already panting by the time you reached the back door. 

“I’m getting you outta here,” Benny mumbled while shooting a quick look behind.

When he was sure nobody was following you, he got on his motorbike and told you to hop on behind him. Another gunshot was heard, followed by glass exploding, and it didn’t take you long to follow him. You swallowed the lump in your throat when he started the bike and drove off slowly at first. 

“Hold on,” you heard him say, that deep voice still unfamiliar tp your ears. 

Numb from panic, you tightened your arms around his waist and only realized you had never done something so impulsive and dangerous when he sped along the road. Your bodies swayed and rocked with the swerves of the bike, but Benny wasn’t bothered by the rain. You weren't either, too busy freaking out about what just happened.

Not long after, a U-shaped motel came into view along the highway. You held your breath for what was about to come, now starting to sweat when you didn’t recognize the area. 

“They won’t know we’re here,” Benny explained, as if sensing your worry when he got off his shiny motorbike.

“Who’s ‘they’?”

“The new guys.”

Both his lack of explanation and honesty caused you to nod, unsure of what to say next. Benny scanned you from head to toe, visibly looking for something to say as well. Eventually, he told you to follow him. 

With another look behind, you blew out a shaky breath and followed him up a couple of stairs and in front of a white door, the same as the others on the floor. The inside of the room didn’t look so gleeful either. From the dull curtains to the messy linens on the bed, you almost took it as a sign to run away. 

“Might’ve been better if I’d gone home,” you broke the silence first, shivering.

Benny glanced up at you, taking off his leather jacket. His black teeshirt said something in white. You slightly squinted to read what was written, but couldn’t see anything. 

A strange discomfort curled in your chest. He stood there, more divine than any man you had ever met, and yet he wasn’t even capable of simply talking. What was the point of staying here? Have a staring contest?

The situation you had put yourself into seemed even more dangerous than standing in the middle of gunshots. Your carelessness again. It would get you killed someday. 

The soft patter of rain hitting the windows filled the room, inviting him to look at any potential danger outside. It was ridiculous to stand there, waiting for the storm to pass.

“I’m fine,” you dared to speak, glancing at the small bed. “I was doing fine.”

Your siblings had told you way too many stories about girls being murdered in motels like that. They all came back to your mind at once.

“You’re sleepin’ in your car most days,” Benny’s voice almost startled you. "You're not fine."

You softened at the tone he used, yet cringed at the words. The question had thrown you off. You frowned at him, searching for a credible answer for a minute.

It was hard to lie to him, though. It felt like he could see right through you. 

��How do you know that?” was all you asked, your heart thumping louder.

“I’ve seen you.”

“You’ve followed me, haven’t you?”

“I’ve seen you, is all,” Benny repeated, pulling a lighter from his jeans pocket. 

The flame cast his face in gold tones as he lit a cigarette between his lips. With an expression you were unfamiliar with, he stared at you for a second and blew out a breath of smoke. He settled on the chair by the small table and the room fell into silence again. 

You couldn’t stop thinking about him watching you as you walked up to your car, even though you always tried to find a spot where no one could see you. And why didn’t it feel as creepy as it sounded? 

A shiver ran down your neck when it was your turn to look out the window, finding yourself relieved at the sight of the empty parking lot. At least they didn’t seem to be coming for you. Or for Benny.

“What are we waitin’ for?” you asked, turning around to find Benny already looking at you.

“Johnny will find us. We’re not goin’ out if they’re still ridin’ around,” he replied like it was obvious and easy, tapping his cigarette on the table. “They’re out of their mind, all of ‘em.”

“Why's that?”

A shrug was all you got. 

With a sigh, you paced from the door to the bed until you had to rub your eyes not to fall asleep right there. Your gaze found Benny’s through a haze of smoke, the silence too comfortable for your liking. Almost shyly, you sat on the bed and wrung your hands to prevent them from shaking. The memory of gunshots filled your mind. Were any of the men wounded? Dead? It could have been you. It definitely could have been you.

“Where’s the bathroom?” you asked, so fast you barely recognized your own voice.

Benny stilled and took one last drag of his cigarette, nodding to a door you hadn’t noticed until then. Clearing your throat, you crossed the room, mumbled something about the beers you’ve had, and bypassed his shadow.

The bathroom was ridiculously small, the bath filthy. Deep down, you hoped he wasn’t living here. You almost hoped he had a wife and a warm place to come home to at night. Not an unsafe and lonely place like this. Though you supposed he was lonely.

After all, you still knew nothing of him. 

Speeding through the room, you checked behind the bath curtain and made sure the door was locked. And you stood in front of the mirror, flinching at the wind blowing into the tiny window, your painful heartbeats and the ceiling creaking. You had been serving beer just an hour ago, and you weren’t even sure where you stood now. Unbelievable. And Benny was there too, making sure you weren’t being killed by some men you hadn’t truly seen the faces of. 

Shakily, you unzipped your pants and eased the pressure in your bladder. You couldn’t stop thinking about the bar. 

Two or three cars idled in the street behind the motel, every nerve of yours anticipating gunshots to cut through the air. What were you doing here? You were going to die, and who would even know about it? Your father had met his end that way, killed like a dog. 

The distant whoops of police sirens outside were drowned out by the overwhelming fear settling in your veins. You usually handled it well. The fights and acts of revenge were regular, not to say daily, since you started working there. So then, you weren’t sure why your body started shaking uncontrollably, little hiccups rattling your chest as you desperately tried to stay quiet. Maybe it was just the beers. 

“You’re okay in there?”

You cursed at the muffled voice. Benny would kick you out for acting so fucking childish.  

He shouted your name again, those quick knocks happening again. All you could do was take tiny steps toward the door, keeping a hand over the handle when you had it unlocked. You didn’t want him to see how petrified you were, but were there other solutions?

You both stared at each other in silence. While your eyes remained on his face, tracing every line and small scar, his narrowed ones traveled down to your arms and back to your face. 

“I won’t hurt you if that’s what you’re scared of. I’m not like that.”

He had never been so soft, so sweet. Benny had never appeared as a shy guy either, and yet his hesitancy rolled off him like waves, drowning you in doubt. 

“What are we really doin’ here?” you asked, holding his gaze to know the truth. 

“Told you. We’re waitin’ for Johnny to get us.”

You paused for a moment, hating the way your voice cracked. “What if they find us before?”

“They won’t. I won't let them hurt you,” Benny frowned slightly. “You’re one of us now.”

Swallowing over the thick tears coating your throat, you gave a shaky nod. “Thank you.”

Benny seemed to think for a moment. “You should rest. The bed’s yours.”

“You look worse than me.”

“The chair’s fine.”

And he was gone again. Embarrassed by your sudden breakdown, you followed him out. The room seemed even darker now. At least you would be able to hide your face. 

You inhaled deeply as you took off your shoes by the bed, glancing through the window. A man was waiting by his motorbike, looking down at his hands. You instantly recognized Bruce, causing your shoulders to relax. 

Dragging yourself to bed, you crumpled under the weight of that night and let a silent torrent flow over your face. Tears of exhaustion and fear, mostly. As much as you wanted to, you didn’t even pull the covers over yourself in case you needed to run away. You kept your eyes on the ceiling and shut them close, clutching a fistful of the blanket. The gunshots wouldn’t cease.

Right then, your name was called again. It still felt so weird that Benny was addressing you, as though he hadn’t been purposefully brushing your existence off for the past few weeks. He could see you, you reminded yourself, and the thought was brutal. So shameful, really. 

“It’s just the beers,” you heard yourself say, distant from your own ears. “I’ve drunk too much.”

“Hey,” Benny whispered, now kneeling beside the bed. 

How he had got here so fast, you had no idea. His pale complexion and sweaty forehead glistened under the moonlight pouring through the window. 

“Look at me,” he said, peeling strings of hair away from your face. “You’re safe.”

You weren’t. Those guys would find you and hunt you down like they had your father. 

“I can’t die here,” you choked out, finding it so hard to breathe and have dignity at the same time.

What would he think of you? A fool who was scared of two silly gunshots.

“You won’t,” Benny said earnestly, his deadpan tone indicating he wasn’t up for debate. “Look at me, we’re safe here.”

“I don’t want them to shoot me. Oh, God.”

Through the haze of tears, you saw Benny sitting beside you on that tiny bed. It took you longer to realize he had your head against his chest, holding it while his other hand traced soft circles against your wrist. You wished he could have said something, anything to calm you down, but it dawned on you that his mere presence was enough. His warm hold was a blessing. He wasn’t about to drown you in compliments and soothing words, and perhaps it was better that way. 

Meanwhile, you sucked in a calming breath, focusing on your hand on the flat of his covered stomach. 

Benny rested his chin in your hair, his breath ruffling the strands and sending chills down your spine. You could have stayed like that for days; nothing had ever felt so right. It didn't even matter that he was closer to a stranger than a friend. He had seen you, and he was probably the only one.

And whatever he was, you wanted to trust him. Have someone to talk to and get it off your chest so the nights wouldn't feel so lonely anymore.

“My old man owed money to some guys. Can’t remember who exactly. They shot him down on our doorstep.”

Your words were painful and low, but you figured telling the truth was as depressing as it would have been to lie. 

“I need to work, Benny. I need to help my mom figure it out on her own. But they–they saw me standin' there in the kitchen, and I’m so afraid they’ll come and find me next. I told her I’m working overnight too, but the truth is… I can’t sleep at home anymore. I can’t."

You thought he hadn’t heard you with the way he kept on stroking your hand. The lack of response made you uneasy, already regretting your words until he replied.

“I’ll find them first,” Benny said, the rasp in his voice heating your body alone. “Won’t let anyone hurt you, you hear me?”

“You don’t even know me.”

“Do you want me to?”

You paused for a long time, eyebrows narrowing as you thought about it. Another tear rolled down your cheek.

“Does it mean we’d be friends?”

“We’d be anything you want,” Benny replied with no hesitation.

You swore he kissed the top of your head. Or at least grazed his lips there, afraid to see you crumble again.

“I thought you couldn't stand me,” you mumbled, wiping off your cheek with your free hand. 

“Didn’t want to stain you, is all,” Benny mumbled back.

You weren’t sure what he meant by that, couldn’t really imagine how fucked up he was, so you just nodded. You doubted he could be worse than you were, but you just needed the warmth and affection for a night. You figured he might need it too. 

You had thought it was the beers, but perhaps it was just him that made you so dizzy.

[psychedelic-ink]

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐍

ㅤㅤno outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

genre: smut, minors dni, romance, valentines day, strangers to lovers

word count: 1.2k

summary: when your friend sets you up on a blind date, you had no idea how impactful it would be.

warnings: piv, oral (fem receiving), praise, mild dirty talk, ngl this is mostly smut dvbfdvbd

a/n: hello @always-andromeda!!! I was your secret valentine!! 💘💘💘 sorry I'm slightly late but I hope you had a spectacular valentines day, and I hope this fic of a dream of a man will make you happy!

A blind date. 

A goddamn fucking blind date. 

You still can’t believe you said yes and thought it was worth risking your mental stability for a date with a man you’ve never met, nor seen before. The agreed time was 7 pm, Valentine's Day, and lo behold it was 7.15, and still no sign of the famous Joel Miller. 

“This was stupid,” you mutter, looking around the crowded bar. You got stood up that’s for sure. You should leave, go home, and snuggle up with your favorite book under the bed. 

You're already seated at a cozy booth, nursing a half-forgotten drink as you contemplate your escape plan. Suddenly, a voice cuts through the chatter of the bar.

"Hey there."

You turn, startled, to see a man standing before you. He has a slightly sheepish grin on his face, as if he's been searching for you for a while. He repeats your name, a bit firmer this time, probably thinking he might have had the wrong person. Swiftly your eyes move up and down his frame, broad shoulders, broad chest— His dark, tousled hair frames a ruggedly handsome face, with tired, yet alert, eyes that seem to hold a thousand stories. 

"Yeah, that's me," you reply, trying to hide your surprise. "And you must be Joel?"

"Guilty as charged," he says with a soft smile. "Sorry, I'm late. Traffic was hell."

“That’s alright. . .” 

He raises an eyebrow, still smiling, “You sure that’s what you think? You looked right about to leave, honey.” 

"Well, I... I was just... considering my options," you stammer, feeling a bit flustered under his scrutiny.

Joel's smile widens, and he chuckles softly. "I'm glad you decided to stick around," he says, his voice warm and reassuring. "I promise to make it worth your while."

There's a sincerity in his words that puts you at ease, and you find yourself relaxing in his presence. Maybe this blind date won't be such a disaster after all.

"I'll grab us some drinks," Joel offers, standing up from the booth.

You nod, grateful for the distraction. "Sure, sounds good. I'll have a Negroni."

As Joel heads towards the bar, he glances back at you with an amused twinkle in his eye. "Don't run off while I'm gettin’ them now," he teases.

You let out a laugh, feeling a warmth spreading through you. "Don't worry," you reply, meeting his gaze. "I'm not going anywhere now that you're here."

He’s a single dad. 

A contractor. 

And most importantly, he’s eager to take you home. 

In the short amount of time that you got to know him, you feel as if this blind date was a key moment in your life. You already know this wouldn’t be the only time, and by the way he’s kissing you right now, you know that he feels it too. 

You had done the most cliche thing possible, asking if he wanted to come upstairs for a drink. 

All hell broke loose as soon as you closed your apartment door. 

His tongue is deep in your mouth as he sucks on your bottom lip, teeth nipping at the tender flesh. His large hands are under your skirt, squeezing your ass. You moan wantonly into his mouth, your eyes rolling all the way back into your skull. You’re burning and all he does is fan the flames. 

“Look at you, so good to me making those sweet noises,” he pulls his mouth away only an inch, making you feel the fan of his breath. His lips are shining under the dim light. “Make some more pretty girl. Make me hear all of it.” 

Without warning he slips two fingers between your folds, circling them around your clit. Your insides clench, more wetness gathering between your legs. Another moan rips from your throat. Joel gives you a half smile, eyes growing dark the more you let go and fall. 

“Can’t wait to take you apart again and again and again,” his lips ghost your cheek, mapping a road to your ear. You shudder against him. “Where’s the bedroom?” 

It takes you a second to understand the question. At least you thought it was a second, his deep laughter makes you think otherwise. “You really know how to make a man feel good about himself, sweetheart. But as much as I would love to fuck you on the floor, a bed would be better for a sweet thing like yourself.” 

“If you continue sweet-talking me like that I might just combust.” 

“That’s the plan darlin’,” he murmurs as you guide him. “I can’t wait to taste your mess.” 

As soon as he strips you down and lays you on the bed, he takes his place between your legs. A man of his word. He’s still fully clothed, you only managed to unbutton his jeans but that was it. He grinds down into the soft flesh of the bed as his tongue dips between your folds, licking and slurping, he moves up to your clit and sucks the sensitive nub, making you shout. 

“Let go, sweetheart. Need you to come at least once before you take me.” 

He sucks your clit again and again, applying pressure with his tongue, he slips in two fingers, curling them at just the right angle—

“Fuck—Joel, I’m—“

“Come for me, darlin’. Give me what I asked for and make me a happy man.” 

With a gasp, you let go, your whole body trembling as Joel continues to work his magic until you're left breathless and spent. He gives your clit one last lick before pulling away, a cocky grin on his face. 

"Damn, you look beautiful when you come. I can't wait to see it again," he says as he leans in for a quick kiss, before getting up and shedding his own clothes. You take a moment to admire his body before he's on top of you, his lips pressed against yours again. 

With each kiss, each touch, the fire between the two of you only intensifies. You don't even notice when he slips a condom on and pushes inside you, the pleasure taking over. 

Joel's thrusts are slow and deep, his hands gripping your hips as he moves in and out of you with increasing speed. You can feel the pressure building in your core again.

"God, you feel so good," Joel groans, his breath hot against your neck as he kisses and nips at your skin. "I can't get enough of you."

You feel the tight coil in your stomach unravel again, and you cry out as you come for a second time. Joel follows soon after, collapsing on top of you as he catches his breath. 

He rolls off of you and pulls you into his arms, both of you covered in a light sheen of sweat. You lay there in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Joel speaks up. 

"Can I be honest with you, sweetheart?" 

"Of course," you reply, turning to look at him. 

"I haven't felt a spark like this with anyone in a long time. I want to see where this goes," he says, sincerity in his voice. 

"I feel the same way," you admit, smiling at him. 

Joel's fingers brush your cheek before leaning in for a soft kiss. You can't believe your luck, finding someone who could ignite such a passionate fire in you. You know this is just the beginning of something special between the two of you. And you can't wait to see where it takes you.

[katsu28]

through the lens

pairing: jamie tartt x reader 

summary: a richmond win, a trip to ola’s, and a camera is all it takes to find out how jamie tartt really feels about you

warnings: swearing ofc, reader is afc richmond's team photographer, 2.5k

a/n: humbly inviting begging anyone and everyone to drop ted lasso requests from this list or this one in my inbox <3 i write for jamie, roy, sam, dani, and isaac! now pls enjoy the result of my jamie tartt brainrot 

The atmosphere in the locker room was positively electric. 

AFC Richmond was fresh off their first win in a very long time, and everyone was beyond ecstatic, buzzing with residual adrenaline and pride on a game well played. All the players were in a huddle in the center of the room, jumping at each other with nothing but pure joy in their eyes. 

All you could do was try your best to capture the moment without getting in the way of the festivities, which you somehow managed by climbing up onto one of the benches in front of the lockers as you snapped picture after picture of the team getting their celebration on. Nobody really paid you any mind throughout, until you turned your camera on one Jamie Tartt, who was already looking right at you the second your viewfinder focused on him. 

He beamed, lifted his hand up in a small wave, and for a split second you thought he might’ve started to make his way over to you, but he was caught on the shoulder and redirected by an overjoyed Dani Rojas. You swiveled away from Jamie and towards where Colin and Isaac had started some sort of chant that you could barely make out over the ruckus. 

Focusing on them gave you the chance to let your heart rate settle back down after sharing that split second moment with Jamie. It was pathetic, really—pining over someone like him.

More of a silly little crush than anything, you knew it would never lead to anything because you’d rather a sinkhole open up in the middle of the road and swallow you up than tell Jamie that you liked him. But that didn’t stop your feelings for him from growing. He’d come back to AFC Richmond someone different—sweet and empathetic and the biggest supporter of his fellow Greyhounds—which made it that much harder to keep your crush under wraps. 

Hell, Keeley had figured it out within weeks of his return and accidentally let it slip to Roy. He’d very gruffly assured you that he hadn’t told a soul, but you were sure that the whole team knew about it by now. Everyone except Jamie. You’d never been so glad for his thick head. 

“Alright, I know y’all are excited about the win, I am too but listen up!” Coach Lasso’s voice cut through the commotion, hands waving over his head to get his players’ attention. At the drop of a hat, every single one of them fell quiet, eagerly awaiting what their beloved coach had to say. 

You were looking forward to it too, not only because a Lasso signature speech was always a great opportunity to get raw, unfiltered photos of the team, but because he always had something positive to say, no matter what the outcome on the pitch had been. The amount of love and care Ted Lasso had for his players was his strong suit, and it showed in everyone’s respect for him. 

“I’m real proud of what all y’all did out there on the pitch tonight. I know I say that after every match and I mean it every time, but this one is just a little bit sweeter. I appreciate every single one of you boys more than you could imagine,” He continued, looking to address each person. They looked like kids again, giddy with glee as they soaked in their coach’s praise. 

You took shot after shot of everyone in the moment, so enveloped in your craft that you didn’t notice someone had come to stand beside you until you let your camera hang. That was when you noticed Jamie, inching closer with an innocent look on his face until he saw you looking down at him. 

“Hiya,” He said, playfully nudging your leg with a cheeky smile. “Gettin’ a good view up there?” 

“Shouldn’t you be listening to your coach?” You shot back, fighting the urge to pick your camera back up and take a shot of his lopsided grin and stupidly endearing twinkle in his eye as he looked up at you. 

“Nothin’ I haven’t heard before.” Jamie shrugged, but he turned back around to look at Ted.

Even though he wasn’t paying attention to you, it was hard not to pay attention to him. That was a problem you’d increasingly been running into, not being able to focus when Jamie was around. You thought you’d had it under wraps, but it seemed like you’d developed a sixth sense for whenever he wandered into your vicinity. And lately, that sense had been pinging a lot more than usual. 

Maybe you were reading too much into things, but it seemed like Jamie had been popping up everywhere you went in the facility. Granted, it was mainly the pitch and the locker room hallways, but it flustered you all the same. One brief conversation about even something mundane like weekend plans or the weather paired with a smile and a cheeky wink before he disappeared around a corner and you were left wondering what you’d been doing in the first place. 

Ted was closing out his speech by the time you’d remembered you were actually supposed to be doing your job right now. You jerked out of your thoughts, snapping a few photos of the coaching staff before he finished up for the night. “Now go ahead and let loose, golden goose!” 

“I’m pretty sure it is geese, Coach,” Sam chimed in, giving him a good natured smile.

“You know what I mean! Go have some fun, celebrate, all that jazz. But not too much fun because I expect to be seein’ y’all bright and early tomorrow morning for practice. Remember, the early bird gets the worm! See, I know I did that one right.” With that, Ted waved the team off, retreating back into the coaches’ office with Coach Beard on his heels and leaving them with all their pent up energy. 

“Sam says we’re all going to Ola’s to celebrate!” Bumbercatch exclaimed, drawing a roar of approval from the rest of the team. 

“You comin’ with us?” Jamie asked you hopefully, tilting his head to the side a bit. Warmth bloomed on your cheeks at the prospect of him wanting you to tag along. “Catch the festivities, give the people what they want?” 

Oh. He was asking because you were their photographer. Not for the other foolishly hopeful reason you were thinking of. Of course. 

“Yeah, I’ll tag along. Gotta catch you boys in your natural habitat, don’t I?” 

Jamie’s mouth lifted into a cool smirk. “‘Course you do. You can catch a ride with me, if you want.” 

“Oh! Um, only if it’s not too much trouble.” You could only hope you didn’t sound as breathless as you felt.

He nodded, extending a hand up towards you to help you down from your perch. You accepted it maybe a bit too eagerly, because your step down from the bench put you a little closer to Jamie than you’d planned, barely a few inches between the two of you. You swore you almost stopped breathing when his chest brushed against yours as he inhaled a sharp breath. You forced yourself to meet his gaze, and it almost looked like he was as stunned as you. 

You both mumbled an apology, words tumbling over each other messily as you stepped apart. His hand flew up to rub the back of his neck sheepishly. Yours went straight for your camera, busying yourself with a few random buttons as if it were a defense mechanism. Neither of you could look at the other for a good while, not until you got into Jamie’s car and were on the way to Ola’s to meet the rest of the team. 

“So. What’d you think of the game?” 

“S’good! You did great, Jamie,” You exclaimed, excited now. It was true, Jamie had been on fire tonight with a goal and two assists. “All of you did great.” 

“Should I pose for ya next time? Give ya a proper action shot?“ He sounded only half joking. “M’trusting you to make me look good, y’know!” 

“Posing is overrated. I like the shots I get when you lot get out there on the pitch. They’re natural.” 

“But what if I make a stupid face when I pass the ball? Those can’t be any good.” 

“They’re called candids, and I happen to think they look better than your promotional shots.” 

“Bullshit! I looked sexy in those shots and you know it.” 

While he wasn’t wrong, you had a point to prove now. Taking a deep breath, you counted to three in your head before picking your camera back up, swiveling in your seat and snapping one, two, three pictures of him. 

Jamie’s brow furrowed at the shutter clicks, giving you a confused glance over in your direction. “Oi! What’s that for?”

“That’s a candid.” You said simply, ignoring your heart pounding a million miles a minute against your ribcage. You flicked through the photos, pleased to see that they’d come out just as you suspected—perfect. 

“Not even getting my good angle, some photographer you are,” He muttered, giving his head an overexaggerated shake. 

“All your angles are good, Jamie,” You scoffed. “And you don’t need me to make you look good, ‘cause you’re doing it just fine on your own.” You didn’t realize what you’d said until a beat later when he looked extremely delighted, but every part of what you said was true. 

Even caught off guard and driving, Jamie Tartt looked unfairly good. The lights off the dashboard washed over his handsome face in a warm light, making him look softer than the harsh lights of Nelson Road did. 

On the football pitch, he was tough and cocky, mouthing off to opposing team with the sole purpose of getting under their skin, and the lighting reflected that. He was Jamie Tartt, a striker with a right foot kissed by God, one of the greatest footballers in Richmond history. In this car, here with just the two of you, he was at ease. His guard was down, his facade gone. He was just Jamie Tartt, a boy from Manchester. That was the Jamie you’d grown some not-so-small feelings for. 

Ola’s was definitely quieter than any pub in Richmond would’ve been, though you suspected that the team rather enjoyed it this way. They loved and appreciated their fans, but it was nice to be surrounded by friends as opposed to being gawked at the whole night. Even so, someone had turned on music with a heavy beat that thumped through the restaurant and everyone was having a good time. 

It was the perfect opportunity to grab a few more quick shots of the team and you took it gratefully, milling around the place for a bit snapping pictures here and there before coming back to your seat to flick through everything. You had to see what you could give the PR team to put on Richmond’s socials. 

A pint of beer slid in front of you drew you away from your camera, but it was mostly the smiling Jamie who’d slid into the chair next to you. He leaned in a little closer to be heard over the chatter of the restaurant, bracing his arm on the back of your chair. 

“D’you ever stop working?” 

“Meaning?” 

“Nothin’ bad! I just mean…every time I see ya you’re nose deep in that camera, barely get t’see your face.” 

“The point of my job is to see your face, not mine,” You joked, growing more nervous at the way he was looking at you, like he meant he actually wanted to see your face more instead. Jamie’s expression softened into something fond, knee bumping against yours gently, fingers brushing against your shoulder. His touch sent a feeling not unlike static shock through you, racing through your veins and sending your heart thundering loudly in your ears. 

You were suddenly aware of just how close he was to you and leaning closer still, so close you could see a smudge of dirt from the pitch on his neck that he’d missed, the flecks of gray in his blue eyes. 

“S’shame. Got a face too pretty to be behind the lens all the time. Prettier than mine, even.” 

“Stop it,” You mumbled, but there was no real force behind your words. Jamie thought you were pretty. It made you feel giddy inside. 

“No, you stop it. You’re stunnin’.” He insisted, looking entirely sincere. 

“You’re just saying that.” 

“M’not. I mean it.” Jamie shook his head vehemently. You pressed your lips together, denying it still. “You don’t believe me. Here,” He was quick to grab your camera off the table carefully, leaning back a bit and hitting the shutter button determinedly. You’d barely managed to stretch an arm over your face before the flash went off. He squinted at the tiny screen, studying it for a few seconds before smiling proudly. 

“Think I finally know what’s so good about those candids you keep talkin’ about. That one’s a keeper.” He was firm in his words, turning the camera around to show you the picture he’d taken. Part of your face was obscured by your outstretched hand, but you could see most of your smile and a gleam in your eyes that you didn’t know you had until this very moment. You liked it. 

“D’you wanna go on a date with me sometime?” He asked hopefully, fiddling with the edges of his shirtsleeves. Warmth flooded your cheeks in an instant. “A proper one, where I can come by yours and ring your doorbell and give you flowers and all that shit.”

“Someone give Lust Conquers All a ring, ‘cause Jamie Tartt is a changed man!” You shouldn’t have been cracking jokes right now. It definitely wasn’t the time, but you couldn’t help yourself. It escaped before you could take it back. 

But Jamie just rolled his eyes playfully, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah, alright, have a laugh. You didn’t say yes.” 

“I also didn’t say no.” You pointed out, scooting a few inches closer to him. He returned the gesture, sliding towards you until your knees pressed together. You were inches away from each other, again, but this time it was different. This time, you knew how he felt about you.

“That’s still not a yes.” He said softly, so quiet you wouldn’t have heard it had you not been as close to him as you were right now. 

You leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek and his eyes fluttered shut. “How’s that for a yes?” 

“S’good. Missed the mark though. Should be more like…” He trailed off, sneaking a quick peck to your lips before grinning sheepishly. “That.” 

“Sneaky boy.” You rolled your eyes, but your tone was anything but annoyed. “Good thing you’re cute.” 

He preened at your compliment, giving a little self satisfied smile. “And a good photographer?” 

“Decent. If football doesn’t pan out, maybe I could make you my assistant.” 

“That mean I get to spend all day with you?”

“If you can handle it.” 

Jamie’s lips quirked up into a soft smile and he kissed you again, a little longer this time. His hand moved up your shoulder around the back of your neck tenderly, a blooming warmth against your skin. “I’ll manage.” 

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new fics :)

[mandosaur]

New Rules (Miguel O'Hara / Reader)

Fandom: Across the Spider-Verse

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara / Reader

Word Count: 11,320

Estimated Reading Time: 40:58

Summary:

“No.”

Her voice is firm and she jabs a finger at your chest.

“Do not do that. Hit ignore. Block him. Toss the thing at the wall. Do not answer.”

Lyla calls again and sends an alert that Miguel is trying to contact you.

“Hit ignore! Don’t do it!” Gia reaches out for your watch.

You stand abruptly. It’s a stupid, stupid choice. You know it is. Gia is right, you should just chuck the thing in a garbage bag.

But you still fish your phone out of Gia’s purse and toss some cash at the bar.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize.

Your on and off again friends with benefits arrangement with Miguel comes to a close, but you just can’t seem to let him go.

Loosely based off “New Rules” by Dua Lipa.

“One: Don't pick up the phone You know he's only callin' 'cause he's drunk and alone Two: Don't let him in You'll have to kick him out again Three: Don't be his friend You know you're gonna wake up in his bed in the morning And if you're under him, you ain't gettin' over him.” “New Rules” by Dua Lipa.

—————

The outfit you’ve picked out for yourself tonight looks great. It’s a red little number that’s been in your closet for ages aching to be worn. You weren’t sure when you bought it how it would look like on you, but it makes you feel great when you catch a sight of yourself in the mirror. You look attractive, hot, and it steels some of your resolve as you head down to where you and your friend agreed to meet.

If you were being honest, you’ve really needed a confidence boost these past few days. The heart ache nestled deep in your chest wouldn’t go away and simply touring New York looking for villains of the week to fight wasn’t cutting it.

A sigh leaves your lips as you find yourself in a bar downtown. Gia, your roommate, has selected a bar for you both to have dinner at. It’s relatively quiet tonight with only a handful of people, yet it still offers plenty of distraction. You may not have been enthusiastic about going out, but you can appreciate having something else to put your mind to.

Although you can’t tell Gia the truth about your recent stint with heartbreak, she knows the details. She knows you had a little fling going on with a guy who checked all your boxes but just wasn’t willing to commit. He’d take you into his bed then leave before the sun rose. It was a never ending push and pull.

Gia didn’t understand why you couldn’t just block the guy and be done with it. She had already chastised you for your “lack of self control” and “frustrating addiction” to pain.

Of course, she didn’t know Miguel.

Miguel. The man who had come into your universe and invited you into his elite little Spider-Man task force to hunt for anomalies. The man who seemed to understand what loss was better than anyone and made you feel seen. Perhaps the only person who knew you better than you.

Gia didn’t get the song and dance you had around him because she didn’t know what it was like to exist as a masked vigilante losing everyone around you. She didn’t know how lonely it was or how sometimes you couldn’t tell who was under the mask. Or if there even was a part of you left that wasn’t just tied to your responsibilities as a hero.

Miguel was the only one who got you. The two of you had clicked like puzzle pieces after meeting. He favored you over the others and had moments where he seemed like he loved you back. Being with him was like finally finding a piece of yourself that you hadn’t realized was missing.

When the two of you had started sleeping together, you had been hopeful. Perhaps the little arrangement between you both would lead to something new. Hell, there had been plenty of moments where he had seemed softer outside of the bedroom and quite a few times you’d catch him staring with a look of affection-

But then everything would go wrong. The moment the two of you got close outside of a biblical sense, he’d pull back. Close you out and end things with you. You’d go days without speaking to each other feeling miserable and heart broken only to be suddenly called back by him.

He’d pull you back in like a magnet and sleep with you over and over again until the next time you ventured too close and he shoved you aside once more.

It was a very painful back and forth, yet you couldn’t find it in you to end things permanently. Not when he took up a large part of your heart, and not when he was your boss of all things.

Currently, you were on the outs again. He’d called it off a few days ago after a bad mission. He’d come back to HQ in a horrible mood and everyone else had suffered for it. When you’d walked up to his office to check in on him, he had snapped at you to leave. His words had been harsh and cold. He had ordered you to stop acting like his girlfriend, constantly checking in and taking care of him like a child, and reminded you that nothing existed between you other than two adults satisfying some urges.

His words had been a blow to your heart and you had left HQ suppressing tears. Gwen and Hobie had watched you go with sympathy, and Jess had mercifully delayed your missions for a while to give you time to recover. Either that or Miguel had ordered her to keep you away from him.

So, naturally, your best friend had suggested you go out for some drinks. Gia didn’t know about your alter ego or quite who Miguel was, but she knew enough to declare him undeserving of you and promised you’d find someone else.

You look up briefly when Gia arrives. She looks stunning in the neon dress she’s wearing and has done her hair in an elaborate style. There’s a happy grin on her face as she slides in the booth opposite of you and you envy her joy.

She calls your name and hugs you over the table.

“You look hot today!” She remarks.

You offer her your best smile which isn’t much. Already, you can feel some of your earlier apprehension return. You have no energy to be out and about with people. Tonight would have been so much better had you been able to curl up in bed with a box of tissues and some ice cream.

“Meet any cute people?” Gia asks. She rummages through the fries you’ve ordered while scanning the bar.

There’s a group of guys in one corner who eye her with appreciation. You think you catch one looking at you too, but you turn away uninterested. The guy seems handsome, but his eyes aren’t red and he doesn’t have two sets of fangs. He’s not the one you desperately want.

“I’m not feeling too social today,” you admit. You twirl your straw wrapper pensively.

Gia gives you a look with a deadpan expression. You know what she’s thinking. She finds it frustrating you can’t just let Miguel go. She doesn’t get why you’re so hung up on him.

But you are. You genuinely have fallen for him in your time working together. He’s showed you parts of him he’s never showed others. He’s told you about Gaby and how he raised her as a single father in her dimension for months before losing her. He’s told you about how he got his powers and the doubts that come with it. He’s shared his canon events with you and opened up to you about the stress he’s in with holding up the entire multiverse.

He’s let you in where he’s shut others out. You know he feels something for you, are sure of it deep in your bones, but he’s just not willing to admit it to himself. That’s what makes it all so frustrating. Loving someone who doesn’t love you back is torture, but loving someone who does yet won’t allow it for themselves is a death sentence.

Gia sighs and the sound rouses you out of your thoughts. She pinches the bridge of her nose and closes her eyes tightly.

“You have really got to get back out there, babe. He’s not the only man in the world. He’s not adding to your life,” she shakes her head.

You look down at your hands.

“You know I can’t,” you murmur.

A part of you wishes you could. If you could flick a switch and let him go, you’d do it. You’d be better off forgetting all about him. It would save you so much heart ache, but your feelings run deep. He’s captured you completely, tangled you up in his web, and you can’t let him go.

Gia thrusts a hand out at you with a look of impatience. She wiggles her fingers and waits expectantly.

“Gia-“

“Ah, ah, you know the drill. Phone.”

You give her a glare but pass your phone over. Gia has insisted on confiscating it since your last break up. She doesn’t want you to be tempted to call Miguel. Of course, your watch is the only real way to connect with him because of the differences in universes, but you’re certainly not going to tell her that.

Instead, you purse your lips when she slides your phone into her purse and watch as she leans forward. She has a gleam in her eye when she surveys the bar. She’s watching every person carefully trying to assess who’s worth your time.

Eventually, she zeroes in on the guy from before. He’s broken off with his friends and is now sitting alone at the bar. Nursing a glass of something amber, he catches Gia’s eye as he throws another look your way.

You don’t even have time to react before Gia is yanking you up by your hand. She’s pitching you forward before you can even blink. You half wonder if she’s the one with superpowers and not you when you suddenly find yourself in front of the guy.

Gia waves the bartender forward and not so subtly shoves you towards the guy. You catch yourself on his chair with a hiss of her name.

“You alright?” The stranger blinks up at you in surprise.

“I am so sorry,” you hold your hands up, “My friend is drunk-“

Gia swoops in and tosses an arm around your shoulder. She has the same mischievous grin she wore back in college every time she had some idea terrible she was cooking up. It’s gotten you into some trouble before and scares you now.

“Hey, you look like you could use some company. My friend here just left her asshole ex. Why don’t you two catch up while I get us some drinks?” She pats your shoulder and is gone in a whirlwind of energy.

You could melt into the floor out of humiliation.

“OhgodGia,” you groan. You don’t even want to look at the stranger out of sheer embarrassment.

The stranger coughs lightly in surprise before offering you a smile. He blinks in Gia’s wake before offering his hand.

“Oh wow,” he remarks with his own blush, “Well that was subtle. But, please, sit. I-My name is Tyler.”

Knowing that Gia will kill you if you don’t at least try, you slide into the stool next to him slowly. Maybe if you entertain him for a few minutes you can satisfy Gia and convince her to take you home. Then you can proceed to strangle her in a dark alleyway away from witnesses for putting you in this situation.

“I am really sorry about her-again. She means well she’s just a lot,” you run a hand down your face and introduce yourself with your name.

The stranger, Tyler, seems friendly at least. He grins easily at you with his own embarrassment. You can tell Gia has put him on the spot too. At least the two of you have that in common.

“Well, at least she broke the ice for me. I saw you a while ago and thought you were really pretty. My own friends were teasing me too,” he offers.

You wave down the bartender and place an order. You definitely won’t get through Hurricane Gia without a drink.

“So, a break up?” Tyler offers a sympathetic smile, “Been there. I just broke up with my fiancée a few months ago. I think I spent an entire month living off of frozen pizza rolls and watching terrible documentaries just to take the edge off. I definitely know how awful it feels.”

His words put you at ease some. You swirl the ice around your glass.

“Breakup is maybe not the right word. We weren’t really together. I wanted more and he didn’t.”

It hurts to say it out loud. It sounds so pathetic when you put it that way, but you can’t help it. The truth is a brutal knife to the ribs.

Tyler makes a noise of sympathy.

“Well, he didn’t know what he missed out on. It’s his loss,” he lifts his glass to you.

You glance away and see Gia staring from your old table. She mouths for you to keep going. You flip her off when Tyler turns around.

“I’m really sorry about my friend. She’s determined that the way to get over heartache is to find someone else. I’m not really interested in that,” you admit. Better to lay your cards out now.

Tyler leans in like he’s about to tell you a secret.

“Don’t worry, I’m not either. My friends dragged me here tonight too. The one in the gray suit is getting married next month and wanted a chill night out. I’m not here to meet someone. It’s too soon, but maybe we can be friends? Breakup buddies and all that.”

He offers you his cellphone and asks for your number. You bite your lip but decide to take the plunge. Why not? It’s not like you owe any loyalty to anyone.

Once you’ve exchanged information, Tyler’s friends call him over. They’ve decided to move on to another bar across town. Tyler has no choice but to go.

He gets up and gives you a friendly wave.

“Don’t be a stranger,” he turns around then hesitates and turns back to you, “And, for the record, that ex of yours is an idiot. I wouldn’t have let someone like you go.”

Once he’s gone and you’re feeling bashful again, Gia slides into the seat he just occupied. She’s munching on fries like she didn’t just humiliate you. You aim a hard kick to her shin and feel better when she shrieks.

“Never do that to me again,” you warn.

She doesn’t promise you that. Instead, she presses you for info on Tyler.

“You two going on a date soon?” She urges.

“He just got out of a breakup too. He’s not interested either. I’m not going out with anyone.”

Gia sighs.

“Look, the important thing is that you let this mystery guy of yours go. This on and off thing is for high schoolers who haven’t developed their prefrontal cortex and have zero impulse control. You’re an adult. I don’t want to see you so broken up about him. You need to get him out of your system.”

You look away.

It sounds easy, you admit, but forgetting Miguel isn’t an option. He invaded your senses. You remember what it’s like to be held and kissed by him every time you try and push him aside. You remember the way he laughs when you manage to crack through his walls, the way he smiles when he thinks you aren’t looking, and the way his voice gets softer when you call. Even if he’s been yelling at someone moments before, his voice always gets soft when you appear.

He loves you. You know it. He probably knows it. Everyone in the agency knows it. It’s just that he’s not willing to take that final plunge.

Before you can say anything more, your watch begins to glow. Lyla is trying to patch a call through.

Gia doesn’t know much about your watch, but she knows enough to guess you’re being called. She narrows her eyes at you when she sees the way your body tenses.

“No.”

Her voice is firm and she jabs a finger at your chest.

“Do not do that. Hit ignore. Block him. Toss the thing at the wall. Do not answer.”

Lyla calls again and sends an alert that Miguel is trying to contact you.

“Hit ignore! Don’t do it!” Gia reaches out for your watch.

You stand abruptly. It’s a stupid, stupid choice. You know it is. Gia is right, you should just chuck the thing in a garbage bag.

But you still fish your phone out of Gia’s purse and toss some cash at the bar.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize.

The look Gia gives you is murderous. She puts her head in her hands like she’s fed up with you. In her place, you’d probably be fed up too.

Still, you slip out the bar and hit your watch. A little projection of Lyla appears as you duck into a secluded area.

“Lyla?” You tilt your head.

Lyla hums, “Miguel wants you at his office. Says he hasn’t seen you in a while. Poor Miggy is worried for you. You don’t usually spend so much time away from HQ.”

She patches a portal for you. You look around to make sure you aren’t being watched then slide in. Gia will definitely tear you a new one for this tomorrow, but can’t resist the urge not to go back to him.

———————————————

Miguel is standing by his computer when you arrive. He’s reading some reports when you pop in. His eyes glance at you as you emerge and his eyes widen.

You’re still in your outfit from the bar. It’s a little ego boost to see the way his eyes scan you from inch to inch. If nothing else, you can find comfort in the fact that you still have the power to drive him crazy.

“You called?” You voice.

HQ is empty this time of night. Most people are either back in their own universe or staying in some of the dorms on the other side of the building. For now, it’s just you and Miguel.

Some anticipation builds in your stomach. This is how a lot of your late night meetings have started.

Miguel straightens up from his chair. You don’t miss the way he swallows when he sees you.

“Did I interrupt something?”

You can’t be sure but maybe there’s just the hint of an edge to his voice. He sounds a little miffed, like he’s jealous. It’s a nice change from his usual aloofness with you.

“I went out for drinks,” you admit, “What is it?”

It’s been days since you’ve last seen him and you missed him. It’s so easy to miss him. He has a hold on you that you can’t possibly escape from. He’s magnetic without trying, has a good heart even if he hides it behind a facade of anger and coldness, and he cares about people. He’s a good person. You’ve glimpsed it all and have fallen hard. Being without him hurts more than any broken bone or injury.

Miguel hesitates when he looks at you. You take stock of him.

He has dark circles under his eyes and looks stressed. A part of you hopes it’s because your last argument has also been keeping him up. If you aren’t the only one hurting, you think it’ll make you feel better. Then again, there’s a mountain of paperwork on his desk and his computer has a ton of messages unread. Maybe it’s less you and more the job itself that has kept him up.

“Jess said you needed a few days off because you weren’t feeling well. I just wanted to make sure you were healthy,” he turns away from you, “Yet I’m sure you are. If you can go around drinking, you can go on a mission.”

A prickle of irritation fills you.

“Did you just call me here because of that? This could have been an email.”

You hope your face doesn’t show the disappointment you feel. For a second, you had been expecting him to have changed. To have admitted he was wrong and hadn’t treated you fairly. Then again, this was Miguel. Miguel wasn’t exactly known for being sentimental or emotional.

“What else is there?” He doesn’t even turn around before he’s at his computer, “I’m assigning you a case this week. Your little vacation is over. You’re dismissed.”

Indignation fills you. You shake your head firmly.

“Come on, Miguel. Give me a little more than that. I haven’t seen you in days and all you do is assign me more work? That’s it?”

You step forward towards him.

He turns around and glares. His eyes flash with a warning.

“That’s it. Go.”

He’s got the voice he uses for the other recruits. The one you’ve heard him scold Hobie and Peter B. in plenty of times. It’s not one he tends to use on you, and you bristle.

“Why did you call me here? Lyla wouldn’t open a portal for me if it was just for work.”

Miguel’s jaw is clenched.

“Well she did that without me asking. I didn’t want you here.”

His words are a blow to the stomach, and your anger grows. You jab a finger at him and glare.

“You’re not even going to apologize? You insult me days ago then want to be professional again without apologizing-“

“Why would I apologize?” His own anger is rising, “I meant what I said. You knew what this was when we started. I’m not sorry you forgot.”

A huff leaves your lips. You shake your head and take another step forward.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re annoying.”

You meet each other half way. His face is clouded with anger. You can feel your heart race in your chest from you own rage.

“I can’t believe you won’t admit that you want more between us.”

“And I can’t believe you’re testing my self control showing up here in this dress and pointing a finger at me,” he retorts. His eyes go down to your lips. You can sense what he’s about to do.

You lean in first and he devours you. The kiss is full of fire and anger. You’re both pent up and stressed. It burns and consumes you in a way you’ve been longing.

Anger fuels you and you take his hair in your hand giving it a firm tug earning a hiss from him. He picks you up and sets you on a nearby desk. The files scatter on the ground. Neither of you notice.

“You’re not going to apologize?” You hiss it between breaths.

He makes a sound at the back of his throat, “I’ve got nothing to apologize for. My intentions were always clear.”

His mouth goes for your throat. Your rebuke is lost as his hands begin to inch under your dress. The words he’s spitting out at you hurt, but his fingers soothe the sting when he explores your body.

This is a mistake. Gia is right. You should shove him off you and walk away. You’ll never get over him if you’re still sleeping with him, yet you can’t seem to do that. Your body amidst the haze of ecstasy won’t allow it.

Instead, you close your eyes and give in. You let him fuck you in his office all while telling yourself you’ll deal with the fallout in the morning. You don’t think of the consequences or how much this will hurt when the sun rises-

And it does.

It hurts like hell when you blink awake after dozing off in his chair and find him gone in the morning. He’s left for the day and a note near you is the only thing he leaves behind. You read it then throw it into the waste bin with tears running down your face.

In his messy scrawl he’s written, THIS CHANGES NOTHING.

———————————————

Gia has her arms crossed when you return to your shared apartment. She knows where you’ve been. She can see it in the bites he’s left along your neck and shoulders. The walk of shame you just took burns.

“You slept with him, huh?” Her eyes are narrowed in annoyance.

You sign and bury your head in your hands. She isn’t done with you yet. Her judgement feels thick against your skin.

“And he left again, huh? Right after he got what he wanted.”

The question makes you cry. You burst into tears feeling regret and heartbreak. Gia sighs and her gaze softens. She wraps her arms around you and holds you close.

What’s worse is that the pain of his rejection doesn’t hold a candle to the pain of missing him. It’s illogical and pathetic, but you and Gia both know this won’t be the last time you make this same mistake.

And it isn’t.

Days later, he appears at your doorstep and you welcome him into your bed again.

———————————————

Days after that encounter, you open the door to find Miguel bleeding in the hallway. He has a large gash across his side that looks painful. He stumbles inside before you can even react.

“Miguel?”

You close the door behind you as he hisses in pain.

“I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come, but I need a first aid kit,” he groans.

You’re grateful Gia isn’t here. You don’t think you could explain why Miguel is bleeding in his spider suit. That or why you let your ex back inside again.

Deciding to shelve your personal feelings, you hurry him over to the kitchen and set him down on a chair. There’s a first aid kit under the sink. You’ve used it plenty of times before when you come back from fighting crime.

Miguel is strong and puts on a brave face as you go about patching him up. The gash at his side is the worst one, but his knuckles are also bleeding and there’s a tiny cut on the side of his chin that looks painful too. It doesn’t look like he’ll need stitches, but it does look bad.

“What happened?” You look up at him.

“Anomaly. I took it down, but it got me on the side. I didn’t even think before coming here. I’m sorry.”

He looks away as you work. You wish you could tell what thoughts are running through his mind. Your own are consumed with the fact that he’s here.

HQ was just a click of the watch away. Lyla could have called him to the medics there and gotten him help. Why had he showed up at your place? You haven’t spoken since the night at his office.

The memory of it stings and you purse your lips.

This is probably a mistake. The second mistake you’ve made this week. Things won’t end well if you don’t develop a sense of self control, but you’re not sure you want to let go. Despite everything, there’s still a little nag of hope that’s rooted itself deep into your heart. You don’t want to give up.

“You weren’t at HQ these past few days either,” Miguel speaks up. He suppresses a wince when you finish his side. The skin there is already starting to heal over. A testament to his powers.

The bruises on his knuckles look worse than they are. It takes just a bit of treatment to get them to start healing too. Soon, the cuts are just dark bruises.

“I did my mission. I let Hobie do the report for me,” you explain.

The mission he had assigned you on had been easy. You and Hobie had taken the anomaly down without question. It was just another villain of the week. At the end, Hobie had offered to go back to HQ without you to check in with Jess and Miguel. You had fled back to your universe certain that you couldn’t face people there just yet.

A muscle on his jaw works as he tightens it, “You don’t have to avoid me. I’m sorry for what happened earlier.”

His words make you ache. You hate feeling this way. Always dancing around the truth but never able to fully face it.

The final cut he has is on his chin. You have to look at his face to tend to it. His eyes are trained on you and the depths there take your breath away.

There’s trepidation and nervousness there along with something else. It’s soft and meek like he’s trying to shield it. You think it’s a cross between longing and affection.

He does love you too. You believe it strongly. He just doesn’t want to admit it. Miguel is the kind of man who can face hordes of villains and never falter, but ask him to open up and share his feelings and he panics. He can’t even be honest with himself.

Your fingers trace the planes of his face as you apply a thin layer of ointment on the cut.

“I thought that’s what you wanted,” you whisper. It always seemed like he wanted you as far away from himself as possible. You had agreed to give him that even if it slowly killed you, “Why did you come here tonight? Really?”

Lyla wouldn’t have sent him to you if he hadn’t asked. For all of her teasing of him, she is mostly obedient. She would know not to send him where he doesn’t want to. The fact that he came to your door means a part of him did.

Why? Why tell you to keep your distance then show up at your home anyway? Could there also be a part of him that finds you just as impossible to be away from? Or are you clinging to him and seeing what isn’t there?

A faint trace of color has spread through his face. You blink. Without realizing it, your fingers have been stroking his chin. It’s such a habit that you never even noticed it.

An apology forms on your lips and you drop you hand before he intercepts it. He takes your hand in his and stares down at it. The muscle in his jaw works again.

“I wanted to see you. Hobie said you had been injured on your mission. I nearly came here then and there,” he admits. It’s a quiet breath into the night like he can’t believe he’s admitting it. Your heart picks up.

The injury in question had been a simple broken rib. Your powers come with accelerated healing. By the time you had noticed it, it had already started repairing itself. Hobie and Miguel both know this, yet he had been worried. A part of you dares to hope again.

And then you remember the way he had left you in his office. The note that had broken your heart. The way he took and never gave anything back. An ugly feeling twists in the pit of your stomach.

“I really don’t know why you’re doing this to me,” you breathe out.

It hurts to be led on. It hurts to be discarded. Maybe Gia is right. Maybe you should just let go. Resign from the agency and ignore the thought of him forever.

You pull your hand free and turn around. His eyes follow you as you begin to pack your first aid kit.

When he calls your name, his voice is soft and hesitant. It fills you with a yearning that aches.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he admits, “We just can’t-“

“We can’t? Or you can’t?”

Miguel is brave but there is one fear he can never face. He’s lost so much already and is afraid of losing more. That’s why he keeps people at an arm’s reach. No one is allowed into his heart because he’s lost everyone thus far. His own daughter, or at least in another universe, had disappeared in his arms. He won’t let anyone else in.

A rational part of you knows it. You know he’s pushing you away because he’s scared. He doesn’t want to lose you to the danger of your jobs or the universe that keeps you apart-

But doesn’t he see that he’s losing you anyway? That pushing you away is slowly killing your worse than a villain ever could?

By the time you turn around to look at him, you are surprised to find him right behind you. His hands slot around your waist and he presses his forehead to yours. It’s an affectionate gesture he doesn’t do often. Perhaps the adrenaline from the fight he just came back from is still coursing through his veins and making him more vulnerable.

Your name falls out of his lips like a prayer. You barely have time to react before he’s kissing you.

This kiss is different from the one at HQ. It’s full of fear and adrenaline. He kisses you like he isn’t sure if he’ll ever be able to do it again. Maybe you should never let him do it again.

It’s addicting. You cling to him like he’ll disappear if you don’t. Surely he will disappear if you don’t. It feels like home when the two of you touch. You’re two halves of a whole never truly feeling satisfied if you aren’t together.

Life would be so much easier if he just admitted he loved you too. If he took a chance on you both. It would save you so much heartache.

It’s a really bad idea to do this tonight, you think. You haven’t discussed anything. You haven’t come to an agreement or settled out your feelings. The two of you are merely working on instinct.

But that doesn’t stop you from leading him to your bed. His injuries don’t stop him from sleeping with you. The darkness of the night offers some cover for what you’re doing. Some way to hide from the emotions you are trying so hard to evoke and he so hard to restrain.

It’s a long night for you both. By the time you’re done, you’re exhausted and he has to go back to his world. You don’t say anything as he turns to dress. Sleep is slowly creeping up along with the smallest whisper in your head that chides you for doing this again. Falling back into his web without measuring the consequence.

Before he leaves, he kisses your forehead. It’s a soft piece of affection he’s never done before after sex. If you weren’t so tired and sleep weren’t already dragging your eyelids shut, you would have asked him to stay.

Still, before he leaves, you swear you hear him whisper an “I love you” into your skin. You can never be truly sure of it. Perhaps it was a dream your subconscious did to ease your heartbreak, but you want to believe it’s true anyway.

It isn’t until the next morning that you wake up alone again and hate yourself for putting yourself through this once more.

———————————————

Avoiding HQ isn’t doing you any favors. There’s a mountain of work with your name on it that you haven’t done in a while. Jess has been patient thus far, but you hate to add more stress to her plate.

You’re an adult. You can do professional. Even if your ex is the leader of the agency, you know you can keep calm and work.

So days after your last encounter, you ask Lyla for a portal and set off for HQ. Gwen nods at you as you pass by and you detect a hint or worry on her face. You offer her a weak smile in turn and hurry to your desk.

Paperwork is tedious. You’ve always hated to write mission reports, but it keeps your mind occupied. You breeze through five entire files before your fingers begin to cramp.

The sun in Miguel’s universe is starting to set by the time you finally give up. The workload has eased some, but you’re stuck on one particular file. The document needs some information that Miguel has in his computer. Lyla doesn’t respond when you call her, likely helping out with another mission some other team has been sent on, so you have no choice but to go to his office.

A pit of anxiety forms in your stomach. You dread walking up the stairs to where his office is. It’s been days since you last made the mistake of letting him in, and you’re not eager to see him again. Still, you can’t just shirk your duties because you’re heartbroken.

So you make yourself a promise not to sleep with him this time and go up the stairs. You tell yourself you won’t let him back in for once. That you’ll cut him off cold turkey and be out of his hair before he can even react. Maybe if you copy the document fast, you can get out before he even has a chance to speak-

But then the sound of voices reaches your ear. You can make out Miguel’s voice and someone else’s. Peter B.? It seems the two are talking in his office.

It’s wrong of you to listen in, you know it, and you almost go back down the stairs deciding to come back tomorrow-

But then Peter B. says your name and you freeze. For a moment, you panic that maybe they know you’re here. Maybe one of them has detected you with their senses or maybe Miguel has smelled you. However, it later becomes apparent they’re just talking about you.

Curiosity burns and you hesitate. It’s wrong, an invasion of their privacy, but you can’t help yourself. If they’re discussing you without your presence, you think you’re owed some rights to hear what they’re saying.

So you inch back to the door and listen in making sure to keep yourself discrete.

Peter B. sounds serious for once. It’s uncharacteristic for him. He’s talking to Miguel and you can hear something in his voice like he’s upset.

“-ow long are you going to keep doing this? You’re both miserable.”

He’s scolding Miguel. His words sound both sympathetic and exasperated. He reminds you so much of Gia that you almost roll your eyes.

“This isn’t your business,” Miguel’s voice is a growl. You recognize the dark tone he uses. It’s a tone he’s used on you before in arguments. He uses it when you pry too close and he gets frightened.

“I’m your friend,” Peter B. argues back, “I’m just looking out for you.”

There’s the scrape of a chair like he’s flung himself into a seat. You can practically imagine them both sitting across from each other. Miguel skulking and trying to ignore him while he talks while Peter B. chastises him.

Since they’ve met, Peter B. has called himself Miguel’s friend. Miguel denies it vehemently and claims not to have friends, yet he doesn’t kick him out when he intrudes. He always seems to let him talk or lets him bring Mayday to work. It’s likely that, like your situation, Miguel does think of Peter as a friend even if he would never admit it.

“We are not friends. You should go home,” Miguel bites back.

Peter makes a sound like he’s shaking his head. You hear him sigh and the chair creaks as he shifts his weight.

“Look, I get it. I do. I was divorced once, but come on, Miguel. This isn’t healthy. You keep torturing yourself with this over and over again. When will you just admit the truth to yourself?” His voice sounds tired.

Miguel is silent. You wish he weren’t. You’d love to hear what he’s thinking.

Peter continues.

“You sleep with her, you ask Lyla to check in with her, you watch her on your screens, you send her out on the least dangerous missions, and you panic when she gets hurt. Why can’t you just admit you’re in love with her and let her in. We all deserve a chance to be happy, right?”

You manage to bite back the gasp that rises up your throat.

There. Peter has said it out loud. The one thing you’ve never said out loud or Miguel.

There’s a very tense silence that follows. Miguel refuses to budge. You can practically imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose the way he does when he’s upset.

Frustration fills you. You wish he’d say something. Anything. Finally admit the truth to someone even if it isn’t to you. Or at least admit the truth to himself.

You know he loves you. Everyone around you knows too. Jess, Hobie, Gwen, Pav, Peter, Ben…Everyone knows. It’s just getting him to say it out loud and do something about it that’s the hard part.

A hand slams on something. You almost jump. It seems Miguel has taken his frustration out on a monitor. You can hear the static chirping as the screen splits in half.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he hisses it out at Peter, “She’s just a colleague.”

Peter doesn’t give up. You hear his chair scrape as he stands.

“You don’t do everything you’re doing for a colleague. Look, I lost Mary Jane too once. She left me and I was miserable. I would have never have found happiness again or gotten Mayday if I hadn’t just let go of my fear. Someone once told me it’s all just a leap of faith.”

A leap of faith. You think you like that expression.

Miguel doesn’t.

“I’m not afraid and our situations aren’t comparable. Your wife was from your universe. You belonged to the same world. She didn’t have powers that made her risk her life daily. She wasn’t always in danger. You know our line of work. You know why I can’t.”

You hear him begin to pace. He’s going for his stage system. If he ascends up, he’ll brood forever and Peter’s efforts will be for naught. You hope he manages to stop him before that happens.

He does. You can hear when Peter clicks off the elevator’s button and when Miguel growls out a warning for him to quit.

“You are afraid, and that’s okay. You just can’t let fear destroy you. I was afraid to have Mayday and look at me! I love being a dad. You should let her in. Let yourself be happy. You’ve already lost enough.”

You think to Miguel’s daughter. The way he had broken when he had lost her. You think of his canon events and the people he’s watched die. It makes sense that he’s so terrified about letting you in. You get it.

However, Peter is right. Fear shouldn’t control him. You’re afraid too about loving someone in your line of work, but you’ve decided to be brave. In a world where you could die any moment, isn’t it better to die having have experienced a great love? Doesn’t the reward outweigh the pain?

Miguel mutters a string of Spanish. He’s irritated and beginning to shut down. Any moment now he’ll close himself up. You just hope Peter’s words were enough to get him to think.

Your hopes, however, are shattered when he next speaks.

“I’ll end things with her then. Happy? Set her free. She doesn’t deserve being strung along-“

“Miguel, that’s not what-“

Peter’s words are cut off as the elevator is turned back on. Your eyes burn with tears and anger floods you.

Stupid, stupid man. Too stubborn and cowardly for his own good.

“Don’t do this, Miguel, come on!” Peter practically begs him as the elevator begins to make its ascent up, “It’s not just you you’re hurting.”

“I’m going to end things once and for all. You’re right. This isn’t fair.”

Miguel’s words are final and the elevator clangs as he reaches the top. Moments later, you hear Peter drop into his chair out of frustration. That’s your key to leave.

You storm off HQ and call on Lyla. This time she answers. Whatever playful retort was on her tongue earlier dies away when she sees your tears.

You don’t give her a chance to ask what’s wrong. Instead, you demand a portal back to your world.

Emerging back into your apartment, you storm over to your cellphone. Gia was right, you think, you do need to get him out of your system. So you scroll until you find the text from Tyler all those nights ago at the bar and you send him a message inviting him over.

If Miguel wants to call things off, then you’re way ahead of him.

———————————————

Tyler is a great guy. He shows up at your apartment with some take out and doesn’t pry when he sees your poor attempt at concealing your pain. He’s entirely platonic and friendly when you invite him in.

He knows this isn’t anything more than a distraction. You two are break up buddies. There’s no romance or lust between either of you, so there’s no nervousness or tension when you sit down to eat.

Gia has left for the night pleased that you’ve finally taken her advice. You don’t have the strength in you to clarify that it isn’t like that and she doesn’t have to leave your apartment to give you privacy.

“Hope you like Chinese,” Tyler holds up some takeout boxes.

“Love it,” you reply. You try to sound upbeat and positive, but it falls flat. Tyler gives you a look of concern but doesn’t comment. He’s willing to give you space.

The two of you plop down on the couch and you let him choose a channel. He opts for a shitty B film with monsters. The acting is so poor that you find yourself snorting.

Tyler makes you laugh too. He makes it a game to spot plot holes and inconsistencies. The one who finds the most will get to pick dessert.

He’s good company. When you find yourself starting to think too long on what happened, he makes a joke to get your attention back. Perhaps if you hadn’t fallen in love with Miguel, maybe the two of you could have been something. In another universe, maybe you do end up with Tyler.

Still, in this universe, your heart is still broken.

At some point, you win and you decide on a key lime pie in the fridge. Tyler brings out some wine and you settle down into the kitchen table.

“I didn’t want to pry, but are you feeling better?” He looks at you over the rim of his glass.

“Better than this afternoon,” you admit. It’s not completely a lie.

You needed this. Being able to spend time with a friend is a good distraction. Tyler is a good guy. He doesn’t pry anymore after that question.

Instead, the two of you talk about anything and everything. You feel at ease. He makes you laugh and smile quite a few times. By the time midnight comes around, you’re surprised that you lost track of time.

He stands up and decides to call a ride-share. You tell him not too. It’s too dangerous for him to be out at night. You offer him your bed and insist when he protests. You’ll take Gia’s bed. She always takes yours when she has family over at your apartment. You know she won’t have a problem if you take hers for a night.

The two of you go to bed in your own rooms. You find your thoughts drifting towards Miguel, but you shut them down. You really don’t want to think of him now. Not when he’s decided that he’s going to end things once and for all.

At some point you drift off to sleep. You don’t wake up until the next morning when someone knocks on your door.

Your room door is still shut, Tyler is sleeping in. You don’t even think before opening the door convinced that it’s Gia coming back. However, the person standing in the hallway makes you freeze.

It’s Miguel, not Gia, who stands there. He’s wearing civilian clothing and looks miserable. There’s exhaustion on every plane if his face like he hasn’t slept a wink thinking. You hesitate.

“Miguel?”

He hangs back taking you in. You must look like a mess in your pajamas. If you weren’t still half asleep, maybe you’d be embarrassed.

“Can I come in?” He calls your name softly and adds a ‘please’ when you don’t move an inch for the longest time.

You glance at your room door hoping Tyler is still asleep when you let him in.

The last time Miguel was here, you two slept together. It feels maddening to have him so close again.

“What do you need? Lyla didn’t call me.”

You try to keep your voice even, steady. It’s an attempt to hide the turmoil inside you. Miguel hesitates when he sees the two wine glasses on the table. You had left them out yesterday. Still, he opts not to ask about it.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Miguel admits, “I haven’t been fair.”

You remember his conversation with Peter. Is he here to end things once and for all? You wrap you arms around yourself to keep you steady.

“I’m sorry,” Miguel murmurs, “For everything. You didn’t deserve it. I took advantage.”

“You didn’t do anything I didn’t want to do,” you shake your head, “It’s not taking advantage if you were honest from the beginning. I just got my hopes up.”

The words feel bitter in your tongue. You look down at the floor.

“But I wasn’t honest,” Miguel admits. It’s a quiet whisper that makes you look up. He looks like he’s struggling. He’s never been good at vocalizing his feelings or talking things out. This is a major effort for him, “I lied. I wasn’t being honest.”

He takes a step towards you and you stare blankly at him. You don’t want to get your hopes up.

He calls your name again. A plea.

“I wasn’t honest when I told you I didn’t want anything between us. I was being a coward. Peter B. poked his nose where he didn’t belong and talked some sense into me. Jess chewed me out too last night. They both made me realize how terrible I’ve been.”

So Jess had talked to him too. It was probably after you had left. Having been on the receiving end of her scolding before, you can imagine it was a harsh awakening for him. It must have been if he’s deviated from his initial plan with Peter.

You wait patiently as he gathers his thoughts. This is a huge effort for him, and you know it doesn’t come easy. Some hope rises in your chest.

“The truth is, I’ve been lying to the both of us for a long time. I-it isn’t just sex, alright? It was never just sex.”

He takes a step closer. You watch him closely. His eyes are open to you now. You can see the emotions there. The affection, the heartbreak, the yearning, the fear, the love. It makes your breath hitch.

“Miguel-“

He cuts you off gently. His hand goes for your cheek. He hesitates just briefly, his fear wanting him to bolt, but he fights it back. When his skin touches yours, a little spark has you both feeling dizzy.

“The truth is, I do want more. I’ve wanted more since you walked into HQ to begin with. I kept pushing you away because I was scared. I know you probably don’t want anything to do with me, I wouldn’t blame you if you told me to leave, but I want you to know the truth. I don’t want you to think it was something you did or that you were never good enough.”

Silence reigns between you both. Emotion chokes your words. He leans in briefly.

“I want this,” he breathes out, “You terrify me, this scares me, and I hate feeling this sense of panic, but I can’t stand it anymore. I don’t like seeing you cry or pushing you away.”

“I-“

The words die in your throat. You think about how you want to tell him that you love him, that you want this with him too, and that you’ve been waiting for this moment. This dream of yours has finally come true and you feel like you can finally breathe again. You want to pour everything you feel into your words so that he can understand everything you’ve gone through. You just don’t know how.

To his credit, he waits patiently. His eyes are warm when he looks at you. It’s the type of look he’s only given you before when he thought you weren’t paying attention. Your heart races in your chest.

Just when you think you’ve found the right words to respond-

The door opens behind you. A half asleep Tyler stumbles out still unaware of his surroundings.

The world stops.

You see the moment Miguel turns his head and spots him. He realizes he’s coming out of your room. Slowly, you see everything start to fall apart.

You want to beg him to listen, explain to him that it isn’t like this, and tell him that nothing happened. Yet he’s already moving away from you. His eyes cycle between betrayal, jealousy, heartbreak, and fury before he closes himself off. He takes a step back and an entire chasm opens up between the two of you. Whatever progres you two had just made is now gone.

Tyler blanches when he spots Miguel. You see the wheels churn in his head and he realizes what happened. What he’s just done unintentionally. The last of the sleep disappears from his system and is replaced by shock.

“Oh god, sorry,” Tyler blanks.

For a moment, you think you see Miguel tense. He’s like a coil waiting to spring. You suspect he’s getting ready to launch himself at Tyler. You take a step between them to try and stop him and try to explain-

It’s too late. Miguel reins in his self control and doesn’t strike. Instead, he straightens himself out and turns away.

“I didn’t realize you had company,” his voice is a deadpan growl much more terrifying than anything you’ve ever heard before. You move before you can think. Your hand snags his sleeve to try and explain what just happened-

He firmly tugs himself free of your grasp. His voice is cold, detached, and guarded when he answers back.

“Don’t worry, I’ll let you two get back to it. This was a mistake I won’t make again.”

He storms out of your apartment with his entire body practically seething with anger. You try and follow only to see him disappear in the middle of the hallway. Lyla closes the portal before you can follow.

Tyler is incredibly apologetic when he leaves. He feels terrible he’s ruined things for you. You half heartedly tell him it’s not his fault. It’s all yours, really.

By the time he’s gone, you feel like someone has taken your heart and crushed it in the palm of their hand. You crawl back into Gia’s bed and sob until your head begins to pound. Everything feels ruined.

———————————————

Gia finds you there sometime in the morning. She smiles and opens her mouth to tease you about your date when she catches sight of your face. Immediately she pales and rushes forward.

“What��s wrong? Did Tyler hurt you?” Her hands come around you and she holds you tightly.

You shake your head.

“Then what happened? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she fusses over your tears. Her eyes are wide with surprise. You reckon you’re giving her a terrible fright.

In between sobs, the story pours out of you.

You tell her everything. How Miguel had come to tell you that he wanted a romantic relationship between you, how you had been about to tell him that you loved him too, and how Tyler had given him the wrong idea.

You’re practically shaking by the time you’re done. Gia presses her lips together and holds you closer.

Your heart has never broken quite like this before. It’s in millions of tiny pieces. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to pick them back up. Not with what happened.

Gia holds you until you’re done crying. She’s pensive as she stares out the window. Finally, she sighs.

“Call him.”

It’s such a deviation from her old advice that you blink at her. It pains her to say it out loud. She looks like she bit into a lemon when she does, but she powers through.

“Look, this guy got the wrong idea, right? Go see him and explain things. Don’t let him get away. It sounds like he genuinely cares for you.”

You wipe away at a tear on your cheek and glance at her.

“You hate him,” you mumble. Gia helps you clean up your face. Her hands are gentle.

“I hated him because I thought he was just a booty call leading you on. It sounds like he does love you back. You shouldn’t let him go after a misunderstanding, right? At least explain what happened to him and go from there,” she bites her cheek, “If you’ve been fighting for him all this time, what’s one more battle? Give it one last try.”

Her advice seems so simple. You sniff until some of your tears finally dry. Your head is pounding but it’s nothing compared to the agony that is in your chest.

Gia helps you dress and gives you breakfast. She wishes you well. When this is all over, whether it ends in tragedy or success, you’ll have to thank her. She’s put up with so much on your behalf.

You tell her you’re going to his apartment. Trepidation fills you as you round a corner. You call up Lyla on your watch.

When she greets you, her face is downtrodden. You miss her cheery and teasing personality.

“It’s not a good idea for you to head over there right now,” Lyla hesitates, “He’s in a mood. He’s been smashing things and throwing stuff in his office all morning.”

You wince wracked with guilt. You hurt him. Sure he probably deserved it after how badly he’s hurt you, but you still never meant to do that to him.

“Lyla, please let me in,” you beg.

Lyla looks away.

“He told me he didn’t want you anywhere near HQ for a few weeks. You’ve been put on leave.”

Panic grips you. You need to speak with him. You hold the watch up and beg.

“Lyla, please. Please let me make things right. He’s got the wrong idea.”

It takes some more begging. Lyla looks torn. She doesn’t want to anger Miguel further after this morning, but she also doesn’t want him to hurt himself on a misunderstanding. Finally, she wilts and opens a portal. You jump in before you have a chance to second guess yourself.

———————————————

Lyla had understated the sight of Miguel’s office. It’s a complete war zone. His monitors are smashed on the ground, his desk is half way across the room, and there’s broken glass everywhere. He’s destroyed everything in his wake. You wince as you step over broken wood and metal.

Jess has opened the door for you. She tells you to leave immediately if things get messy. Miguel really doesn’t want to see you right now. Lyla will be on standby ready to send you home or anywhere else if you ask her to.

You wave them both away as you search for Miguel. His elevator is on the ground which means he has to be somewhere on this floor.

After a while, you find him. He’s staring out the window and his entire back is rigid. He senses you before you have a chance to speak.

“Get out.”

It’s a harsh bark of an order that makes you wince. You stay rooted to the spot.

“Miguel-“

“Lyla, get her out.”

He taps on his watch and Lyla appears. She looks between the two of you before shaking her head.

“No can do. Jess has me working a different mission. Sorry, Miggy. Guess you’ll have to talk things out like adults.”

She winks out before Miguel can press her again. You hear the sound of anger he makes as she disappears. He still doesn’t turn around to look at you.

“I came to speak to you,” you hear yourself say. You’re surprised your voice sounds so calm. You certainly don’t feel okay. Your ears are roaring and your heart is going a million miles a minute.

“I don’t want to hear it. See yourself out.”

This time he does turn. His face is completely devoid of expression and he moves away from you.

You spin around to follow.

“What you saw isn’t what it looks like. Tyler and I are just friends.”

Miguel huffs something that sounds like a laugh. It sends shivers down your spine. He says Tyler’s name under his breath like a curse.

“It doesn’t matter,” he waves you away, “You and I are just coworkers. Nothing more.”

His words ache but you don’t let them land. You know the truth. He’s told you it just a few hours ago.

“Miguel, stop,” you come up behind him. He’s completely tense when you grab his hand to stop him.

“Enough,” he says your name with a warning, “Go home. There’s nothing more to say.”

You don’t budge. There’s a terrible voice inside your head that tells you that letting him go now would be a mistake. That if you don’t clarify things, you’ll lose him forever.

You try again.

“Nothing happened between us. I only care about you. Please look at me,” you plea. You try to sidestep him to put yourself in his direct field of vision.

He turns around.

“It wouldn’t matter if it had, you owe me no loyalty. We were never together,” he argues back. It sounds like he’s trying to convince himself of that. Perhaps he’s been turning those words over in his head all morning.

You won’t let him leave. He needs to know the truth. If he decides afterwords that he still doesn’t want you, fine. You’ll give up and resign from the agency. You’ll go back to your old life and force yourself to let him go, but he needs to know the truth at the very least.

“Nothing happened at all. We slept in separate beds. There is no one else but you,” you move forward, “I was going to tell you then that I do want you. That I’ve always wanted you.”

He still won’t look at you. You manage to stand in front of him and force him to see you. You want him to look and see the sincerity in your gaze. The love you hold for him burns bright when you meet his eyes.

Some of the tension from his body leaves. He sees that you mean every word. That if Tyler hadn’t interrupted, you would have told him you loved him then and there.

But he’s still afraid. He’s warring with himself over what to do. His instincts tell him to push you aside like he’s been doing. To save himself further pain by cutting you off once and for all. Another part of him is crying out for him not to. The part of himself he had bared for you this morning wants him to give in. To hear you out and be honest with himself.

You hope that other part of himself wins. You need that part of himself to win.

“Please believe me,” you whisper, “It’s only ever been you.”

His eyes close as your hands trace his face. You have to stand up on your tippy toes to reach him.

After a long pause, he sighs.

“Do you know how much it killed me to see him? To imagine him touching you? I almost killed him. The worst part was that I knew it was all my fault. That you owed me nothing and it wouldn’t have mattered if you had decided to move on because I pushed you away.”

“Do you know how much it killed me to be pushed away?” You murmur. It’s not a rebuke or retort. There’s no poison or malice behind your words, you just want him to understand that you’ve both been hurting.

He winces anyway. His eyes trace every inch of your face as if looking for something. You aren’t sure what he’s searching for, but you do know there’s more you haven’t said.

“I want to be with you. I’ve been fighting for you since the beginning. If you don’t want me, then tell me. Tell me once and for all, so that I can move on because I’ve been suffocating these past few days,” you slowly withdraw from him to give him space, “I love you, Miguel. But I can’t keep doing this. You’re breaking me.”

Silence descends in the room. Your heart beats wildly in your chest.

There. The ball is in his court now. He can either accept or reject you. Either way, this game between you will be over.

He’s quiet for so long that you suspect he’s made his choice. You try not to show how heartbroken you are when you take a step back. You’re about to apologize for wasting his time when he surges forward.

You don’t have time to react before he’s picking you up. His mouth crashes against yours and his kiss steals your breath away. He pours everything in it. His heartbreak, his longing, his love of you. It’s so powerful that you feel your self start to melt. You respond in kind kissing him back just as fiercely.

He holds you to him as if afraid that you’ll disappear if he lets you go. You two meet again and again. In between breaths, he pants your name. It isn’t until both of your mouths are bruised that you manage to come up for air.

He leans into you almost immediately after, kissing your throat and murmuring against your skin.

“I want you. I’ve wanted you since the beginning. I’m sorry,” he kisses your mouth gently in another apology, “I don’t deserve this.”

You cut him off before his thoughts can spiral again.

“I love you,” you repeat. His eyes close like he can barely believe it so you say it again. When he opens his eyes, you see the love for you in them. You’ve always known he loved you. Now, you finally have a confirmation.

“I love you too,” he responds. It takes your breath away. You’ve been waiting for a really long time to hear those words.

The next time you kiss, it’s less frenzied. This time, you both know you have time to pace things out. You’ll have all the time you need from now on. You’re both done pushing each other away and breaking your hearts.

His heart is racing against you and you feel your own beat against your ribcage. Still, you press forward. Declarations of love spill forth between heated kisses and nips. You’re drowning in each other.

For the first time in ages, things slowly start to fall into place. The darkness looming over you is gone replaced by a beautiful sunlight. You feel yourself smile into the kiss and he kisses you more softly as a result.

The two of you will have to talk at length more in the future. You’ll have to discuss what you being in an official relationship will mean in terms of your jobs and your different universes, but that’s all a problem for tomorrow. For now, you’re both content to be with each other and to celebrate the fact that you are now together.

The road ahead will not be easy. Nothing in life ever is. Yet you know you can both weather it if you fight for each other the way you’ve been fighting each other. There’s nothing the two of you can’t survive if you work hard.

Together.

[tainted-liquor]

'La Princesa De Mi Corazon⋆˙⟡♡

E42!Miles Morales x Daddy's Girl!BlackFem!Reader Ingredients: Sugar, kisses, n a lil bit of smiles ! TWs: Cursing, realistic teenage dates (he didn't spend no 5k cmon now) W/C: 2.4k A/N: This can be read as an autistic reader if u squint rllly hard ! Another lovely request I got!! Enjoy luvs

For as long as you can remember, you've never actually been told the word "no" by your father. When your mother didn't wanna get something for you, you'd just ask your dad! Since you were the youngest and first daughter in your parent's long line of sons, with you having 4 older brothers, there were times when you didn't even have to ask, it was just yours before you could even think about it. Clothes, phones, shoes, makeup, perfume, all of it was yours. You were a daddy's money girl, with everything in the world right at your fingertips. So naturally, you tended to avoid serious relationships with boys due to your insanely high standards that had been curated since birth. Until you met him, Miles.

Miles was the complete opposite of you and your aesthetic. Where you were giddy and childish, he was serious and mature. You possessed everything under the sun in the shade of pink, where he barely had anything besides black and purples in his closet. Originally he didn't fuckin' like you, like, at all. He thought you were a 'spoiled air-headed dressed up money drowned bimbo' due to his experience in 'working' with rich people. They all seemed to act the same way and wanted the exact same thing, money or power.

But that view dropped immediately when he saw you interact with others. You weren't rude, you definitely weren't stupid, and you were the kindest most giving person he had ever seen before. People all in your circle constantly praised you for how sisterly you were, handing out gifts and words of wisdom like candy. Your only 'flaw' was your ignorance, living blind to the world around you due to being so heavily protected by your father. Sure, there was crime everywhere and New York was a walking murderhouse, but you didn't know that!

You were casually talking to one of your best friends Brenna when you bumped into someone, knocking you straight on your ass and causing him to stumble back a little. "I am so so sorry! I wasn't watching where I was going!" you empathized as you picked yourself up and immediately offered to help the stranger. He shoved his hands in his hoodie pocket as he spoke, his voice quiet and steady as he did. "Oh my bad, It's all good. Just be careful." You gave him a warm smile and a brief nod before setting off again, assuming that would be the last time you two spoke. And damn were you wrong.

The next time you'd see Miles, you were at the mall the following Saturday with a shit ton of bags in your hands. You practically skipped through the concourses of the mall, smiling and giggling with Brenna. You were in a brand new off-white dress and rounded the corner to see Miles waiting for a Cinnabon in line. As soon as you saw the blue and white logo of the bakery, and the smell of sweet sugar and baked goods kissed the tip of your nose, you stopped what you were doing and stood behind the familiar set of twin braids. "Hey, Miles!"

Miles looked over his shoulder, his eyes widening a fraction when he saw over 10 bags on each of your arms. "Yo…what's up with all your bags? You don't feel your circulation gettin' cut off?" he asked with a bewildered expression, "Damn, how much money you spent here?" he gawked. Truth is, you weren't sure. All your dad said was to have fun and he didn't necessarily…give you an amount to spend, he just handed you the card and told you the PIN. "I actually don't know. This has to be a minimum of 600 dollars, Daddy just kinda told me to have fun with it!" You shrugged like that was completely normal.

Miles stared for a minute, analyzing the 20 bags you had in total from various stores. he sighed with a small smirk, shaking his head in disbelief as you sort of merged with his spot in line. Neither of you realized, but you unknowingly recruited Miles in your shenanigans at the mall as soon as you both left the bakery with a series of sweets. You three set off to the nearby sneaker outlet, buying everyone a minimum of 4 pairs of sneakers to match every outfit they'd ever make. If Miles didn't know before, he knew now that you were the gift god when it came to generosity and Daddy's money.

His entire perspective of you changed that day, with you more actively talking his ear off and surprising him with random shit you got with your dad's credit card. He knew then and there that your standards were sky high and anyone who ever fell in love with you would be up for a bullfight ahead of them. He saw how your dad showered you with absolutely anything you asked for, with you even having a real-life princess crown from 2011 plated with morganite and rubies stationed in a plastic case on a high shelf in your room. But as he spent more time hanging out with you or spending time over at your house with your brothers, it hit him like a fucking truck. He knew whoever found themself head-over-heels for the pretty pink princess of her family would be in for a fucking hell of a time, he just never expected it to be HIM.

The day he realized he loved you was just like any other day, with you speeding up to him whenever you saw him. Your usual poofy dress skirt flows behind you like something out of a Disney animation. As soon as he knew to grab you so you didn't send the both of you falling to the ground, he felt a sudden warmth in his face. No, not you smushing your face against his as you gave him a spine-breaking hug, but a new kind of warmth that screamed danger. He suddenly became aware of your perfectly fitting style and the way each of the features on your face harmonized perfectly to create the perfection that is you.

Even though you came from completely different backgrounds, you never ONCE in your life dared say something about his situation. There were nights when he would just watch you as the prowler, skipping through his neighborhood like you didn't hear any of the gunshots, screams, explosions, or see anything wrong at all with where you currently were. It's not that you didn't notice, but you were completely aware that not everyone was as fortunate as you were, so you had no right to look at situations that weren't identical to yours any differently. And despite how "uppity" you looked on the surface, you truly thought of everyone as a new friend.

You, on the other hand, were crushing HARD. On some, you actively got quieter and sometimes just shut the fuck up entirely when Miles was nearby. You knew that you were probably making a mistake by genuinely loving someone so fully in this age of infidelity and communication issues, but you couldn't help it! He was just so pretty and listened to everything you had to say and he never once asked you for anything! Ever! You didn't know how Miles would behave in a relationship, but you damn sure weren't prepared for it.

When Miles asked you out on a date, you were a squealing mess. You threw on a pretty pink dress and quickly threw your goddess braids into a quick bun. When your dad watched as you eagerly checked your outfit in the mirror, he was a little taken aback when you told him that you were going on a date. He gave you a warm smile, telling you to be safe and if he tries anything that he'll blow his fuckin' top off. You laughed at him being so overprotective, calmly explaining to him that Miles wasn't like that at all.

You silently pondered where Miles was planning on taking you. You didn't want your first date to be all fancy, because that made them look like they were trying way too hard. But you also didn't wanna sit in some random diner, either…you didn't know what you wanted. All you did was hope that he paid attention to any of your conversations as you patiently waited on your velvety couch. You immediately perked up at the sound of the doorbell, flying to the door and waiting a couple of seconds before swinging it open.

"Mírate! La princesa de Nueva York! You love your dresses, huh?" He asked with a small smile, bracing himself as you dove straight into his arms. You giggled as you did a small little spin, showcasing the new silk dress. "I was debating on a different babydoll dress I have or this one. This one just felt more fitting!" you shrugged as you closed the front door behind the both of you. Miles had no idea what a babydoll dress was, but he made sure to let you know that you looked stunning in this seashell shade of pink. You follow closely behind Miles, loosely wrapping both of your arms around his left arm as you begin to break down the various types of dresses, and which one was your favorite.

"I didn't even know dresses had names…What's your favorite kind?" He asked with a small amused smile. Not only was this the first time someone had actively listened to you rant about your love of dresses, but he made an effort to even ask what your favorite one was? Lord, he was in for an earful. And he clung to every single word you said like it was the sweetest of melodies. When you finished your long-winded rant regarding pink flowy sundresses, he nodded with a bashful grin. "So a puff-sleeved peasant dress made of chiffon?"

You nodded eagerly as you realized he had been listening to you the entire time. "Yeah! I drew it in my sketchbook a little while back, I think I'll show you when we walk back." You chirped as you slowly began to approach what looked like the most gorgeous candy store of your life. It smelled like heaven and looked just like eye candy. You didn't even get the chance to point before Miles gently guided you through the frosted glass double doors. You beamed as you immediately set off (taking him with you) toward some of the pastries.

You filled up two mini bags with various types of candy, croissants, and two rock candies, one in purple and one in pink. "Miles, what's your favorite candy?" You asked as you scooped gummy sharks into your bag. "Uhh…those sour airhead stripes," he replied as he grabbed two near-frozen sodas from the wide commercial fridge. You got two packs of his favorite candy and slipped it into one of your candy bags, skipping over to him to pay for everything at the counter. You rummaged through your bag for your wallet, looking up to realize Miles already had planted his card in the reader.

"C'mon, this is like, so much stuff! Let me pay!" you insisted as you went to open your wallet. He gave you a firm glare, zipping your entire wallet closed and stuffing it back in your bag. "You good? I'm taking YOU on a date, not the other way around" he asked as you intertwined your hand with his, allowing him to lead you back out of the candy store. You played back his words in your mind, processing each syllable and just how much it meant to you. You giggled to yourself as Miles told you that you were gonna go rollerskating before he took you back home!

There was no actual problem, you loved the idea of going skating with Miles! The issue was…you couldn't skate. Miles laughed loudly as he watched you attempt to meet him on the rink, trying not to bust your ass on the soft and neon carpet. You froze in complete terror, holding both arms out and vaguely resembling a confused cat with its ears back. Miles glided over to you between a fit of giggles, holding out his hand for you to hold onto.

You firmly grasped his hand, holding on for dear life as he slowly guided you to the shiny hardwood floors of the rink. "Miles I'm gonna fucking cry," you state, wide-eyed and afraid as your legs seem to weaken as he gently pushes you forward. "Alright, hold on mama. I gotcha, just drag your legs forward," he instructs as he glides forward like clockwork. He takes both of your hands within his, laughing as you fight back the urge to scream as you look down at the ground. "And here I thought you loved skating!" he laughed.

"I do! I swear I do! But I can't…oh my god I'm gonna faint…" you sighed as you wrapped both arms firmly around his torso, squeezing him like your life depended on it. "Alright, c'mon. Te ayudaré." he shrugs as he propels the both of you forward as slow as he knows how to. It was amazing, and your face lit up when you realized how fun it was to 'rollerskate'. You hadn't realized when, but you naturally picked up the rhythm of Miles's legs, adapting his style of skating slowly but surely. And when you realized you weren't even holding on to him anymore, your face lit up brighter than any star in the world.

When you packed everything up and returned both of your skates, you were giggling like a child and buzzed off nothing but sugar. You wildly explained how much fun you had and how you felt like a flying fairy on the skating rink, thanking Miles over and over for being so fun. He dropped you off at your house, holding a brief conversation with your parents as you skipped upstairs to find your sketchbook. You eagerly showed him the plethora of dresses you had cooked up in your head, explaining every one of them.

"Damn, you really are a princess huh?" He chuckled as you flipped through the many beta designs of dresses comparable to that of Princess Diana's. "I'll just have to get you one of these next time then huh? Tú eres la Princesa de mi corazon." he chuckled as you waved goodbye. You didn't know what he was saying, but you couldn't help but beam at the affectionate energy radiating from his words. He gave a formal goodbye to your parents before disappearing as swiftly as he arrived.

"I like that kid. He's very proper." You heard your mother exclaim. "Will he be over more often?"

You nodded eagerly as you ran up to your room to scream more into your pillow.

[magnolia-among-the-stars]

the last bit of us (prologue)

Plot: Tyler Owens hasn’t been home in a year. He’s survived all the storm chasing and motel living with his new partners as they try to save lives. But with all the damage they’ve taken from driving high beams first into monster storms, it’s time to pay the piper and bring the truck in for repairs. And the only person who can fix them is the best mechanical engineer he’s ever met. Eleanor Harding, his estranged wife.

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Estranged Wife OC (Harding Daughter)

A/N: Ya'll, I wrote a book, graduated from my MFA, became an English Professor and haven't written anything in two months...thank you to glen powell for pulling me from my rut. I can always count on you.

prologue / one / two / three

______________________________________________________________

He knew he would have to go back eventually. The getup that had been built onto his Ram could only withstand so much. Kate’s death march straight into an EF5 had nearly stripped the hydraulic drills and their continued research to suffocate tornadoes had brought the welded exoskeleton frame to the brink of crumbled chicken wire. His truck looked worse for wear and the Wranglers had been bugging him for weeks about taking it in for repairs.

“Listen man,” Boone said on bright day at the beginning of June. He seemed to appear out of nowhere and clapped Tyler on the back. It made the man jump, nearly cracked his skull on the underside of the hood. “I know you don’t want to take a trip to get ole Betty fixed up.”

“Not Betty,” Tyler replies with a grunt, turning back to fill the wiper fluid.

“It’s time to go home man,” Boone continues on, “With all the chasin’ we’re doin’, we need new equipment anyways. The truck isn’t supped enough to deal with the constant damage…you know that. And with everything happening with--” Boone makes a face toward Kate with a heavy wink. Tyler’s tempted to knock some sense into the man.

She’s only a few yards away, looking to the skies for any signs of shifting clouds. She looks incredible, sunglasses sitting atop her head. Her hair is so golden under the hot Oklahoma sun, not even sticking to her neck as she stares up absentmindedly at the horizon.

“That’s what I’m sayin’. You ain’t even listening to me, are ya?” Boone’s voice cuts through the air.

He’s loud enough that Kate peers over her shoulder to see the commotion. She smiles at him, scrunching her nose. Incredible.

Boone’s hands collide with Tyler’s shoulder, knocking him forward a little in the tall grass. Tyler grunts as he tries to keep his footing.

“Knock that shit out, you’re gettin’ on my last nerve today,” Tyler says. He pushes him back firmly. A warning shot.

“You need to get that sorted,” Boone says. He starts walking backwards, away from Tyler and toward the RV where the rest of the Wranglers are. Tyler doesn’t miss the word considered leave Boone’s mouth as he turns away. Boone’s not a frowning man, not normally the one who gets heated over this and that so the tension in his words squeeze at Tyler’s chest in a way he isn’t prepared to deal with.

The chain of his necklace tucked safe and discreet under his white shirt starts to burn against his skin. He scratches away at it when Kate appears behind him. Why is everyone sneaking up on him today?

“He alright?”

A grin appears on Tyler’s face. Her voice is playful and it’s soothing to his ears. “Is he ever?” Tyler jokes, turning to the pretty woman he’s been working beside for the last few months.

She laughs and brushes some hair out of her face. He wants to do it for her. He wants to hold her face, kiss her. He never seems to find the right opportunity, find the right moment between all the motel rooms and 100-mile winds blowing through towns. He’s intimated by her wit, her drive to do more for the community. It reminds him of someone else. And that thought normally makes him a little nauseous. He thought that would go away by now.

“He seemed annoyed,” Kate says, crossing her arms to look up at him.

“He was,” Tyler says. He pulls the dirty rag from the back pocket of his Levi’s and wipes the dirt from his palms. “He thinks I should take the truck into the shop.” “Well, Betty does need a tune up.”

Tyler groans. “Why is everyone calling it that?”

“Cause only a woman could go into storms as mighty and come out with ease,” Kate smirks. Tyler scoffs, staring at her with admiration.

“Cute,” he says and turns back to the truck to look over any other repairs he could make himself. Kate leans over the side of the car, staring down at the engine caked in dust and debris. She tilts her head with curiosity, blinking up at him.

“Seriously though, why not take it in? We can take a week off, maybe get some solid sleep and a good shower for once. There’s a shop only a few miles away from the motel,” Kate says, pointing in the direction.

The man shakes his head, not even looking at her. “That wouldn’t work.”

Kate raises a brow. “How come?”

“It’s a custom truck,” Tyler says. “There’s only one shop that can do the repairs.”

“…Okay, so let’s take it to the shop then,” she tries again.

He swallows his words the second he hears Dexter calling out for them, the promise of another storm halting anymore conversation about the truck and it’s repairs. But that’s only until they load up the new barrels and peel toward a growing storm. Tyler’s harness buckle jams as he revs at full speed toward the sucker and then Boone calls out that one of the rockets doesn’t deploy. When they push through the wall of wind and debris to anchor down into the dirt, drills start to grind against what he can only imagine is a hard rock. The sound of shredding steel makes his jaw clench. The one thing that goes right is the barrels deploying into the sky and drying out the tornado, the sky painting itself blue as the funnel evaporates.

“Are you guys alright? Come in,” Javi’s voice crackles over the radio.

Thank you for reading! Want to be tagged? Click here :)

[whereserpentswalk]

Descriptions of the individual member of each species you'll be dating is below this cut:

1 the vampire: a young vampire (they're 800, but anything below 1000 is young to vampires) who recently moved near you. They're less humanoid then most vampires they know, lacking any sex characteristics, having a somewhat elongated looking body, and having a mouth filled with sharp angler fish like teeth that can open much wider then it looks. They act very chill and down to earth, having lived long enough to not have many worries. They'll probably play guitar for you.

2 the faerie: a noble woman of the autumn court whose been ruling since long before your ansestors walked down from their trees. Her true form is a massive spider like monster with a deer skull for a head, but she can take the form of a tall woman in a black dress if you'd rather. She tends to be nice, but has a problem with thinking of mortals as if they're cute little children. She'll probably give you headpats.

3 the cyborg: a cyborg who was created as a warroir back before the fall of Atlantis. She's been wandering the world ever since the fall, trying to stop the threats humanity doesn't know about. She has a lot of mechanical and magical upgrades but the most noticeable is that her skin is replaced with power armor below her neck. She's on break right now and is a bit burnt out. She's a rather nostalgic person, and scares rather easily after all these years. She'll probably ask to be help despite the fact she's probably taller than you.

4 the dragon: a massive dragon with seven heads and great black wings whose been guarding a hoard of ancient treasure for six million years. Despite his appearance ge's very nice to humans as long as they're respectful of him. He's the type who'll want to tell you puns or make you food if he likes you. Unfortunately for any intimacy he can't shape-shift so he'll have to be very gentle with you.

5 the demon: it's specifically the type of demon that makes deals with people, useally for souls. Don't worry it's not going to try to take your soul, that's just work. It looks like a humanoid figure in a black suit with striking red eyes, the suit is actually part of its body, it doesn't even have organs under there just thick black shadows. It can be freindly, and very curious about the human world, but it doesn't have many positive experiences with humans and doesn't really get social rules or anything like that. It struggles with not really thinking of itself as a person with it's own rights and value.

6 the werewolf: a scientist (well actually a grad student) who studied werewolves who was bitten during their research process. They're really excited about their new transformation, and being in their wolf form feels good. Though they are a bit afraid of what can happen with them, and they don't know what triggers their transformation yet. Their werewolf form is a massive wolf like humanoid with black fur and bright yellow eyes. Their human form just looks like a regular person. They're very excited to meet someone whose accepting of them, and they're very talkative and enthusiastic to those who know them, despite being timid at first.

7 the fallen angel: a recently fallen angel. It doesn't seem like angels are even created by a god, they're just these interdimensional beings. This fallen angel has rather recently fallen due to getting too close to humans they were supposed to be studying, most scandalously: considering themselves male when most angels are considered above gender. He looks like a youthful slender humanoid, with a sexless body, and four bright blue wings. Golden cracks have been forming on his skin since the fall. He still hasn't unlearned everything from being with the angels for millenia, so he can act rather regal and princely. But he has a deep love for humanity most angels don't have, and is deeply saddened by what happened, and probably needs some comfort right now.

8 the slasher: technically a demon but he doesn't really hang out with other demons. He looks like a young man wearing a pale mask that doesn't ever come off. He was hired by the winter fae to kill humans in their sacred woods but really he just likes killing. He enjoys killing and doesn't really have a human idea of morals, and thinks of it as a sort of art, but he'll probably think of you as diffrent if he's pack bonded with you, probably becoming really protective of you. He rarely speaks, and he's probably more comfortable using sign language or aac in public.

9 the witch: an ancient witch whose been studying magic for centuries, though her body remains young and beautiful, though she's quite sallow and underweight. She gouged out her eyes in a ritual that allowed her to see into planes beyond this reality, giving her knowledge that makes her somewhat detached from the rest of humanity. She tends to be rather quiet and aloof, though freindly, and she'll probably be a bit suprised to receive affection from a human. She'll probably want to tell you about her studies and hyperfixations a lot.

10 the ghost: the ghost of a knight banished from the afterlife after cursing the gods of death. He's mournful and very sensitive. When he manifests he appears as he did at the time of death, with his armor still on, and arrows piercing his chainmail. He'll be very devoted to you, but is very heartbroken that he can never actually touch your body the way a human would. Mabye he can possess you for short amounts of time to make up for it.

11 the slime: a strange creature found at the edge of time, appearing as a mass of black ooz that can take any form. It's considered loyalty amoung lesser slime, even among the smallest of jelly. It doesn't seem to talk but is incredibly intelligent and mysterious, and has been known to take certain forms inorder to manipulate people. The form it likes taking around humans is a cartoonish female humanoid is a puffy dress, we don't know why.

12 the void: under no circumstances should you try to romance to void. It's quite hazardous and you won't be human after becoming a bride/groom of the void.

[billskeis]

hear me out hear me out

playfully teasing bill by putting your cold hands under his shirt AHHHHHH

ᡣ𐭩 under the shirt action w bill

okay so imagine you as part of tokio hotel’s management staff or a close friend of one of the members.

either way, whatever you had to do involved you to be outside for majority of the day and at this point you had to go back inside to the studio because the pockets of your sweater were NOT cutting it.

as you shut the door behind you, the only thing or person that welcomed you was the six-foot rockstar that you had a crush on. it was none other than the bill kaulitz, who has his back completely turned to face you.

completely, and utterly vulnerable ;).

now was your chance to attack! sneaking up behind him with quiet steps, you snaked your arms around bill’s slim waist, engulfing him completely in your grasp as the taller figure yelped.

“ah! y-y/n!?”

“hi bill :D!

“back so soon??”

“mmhm! couldn’t stand the cold anymore so i had to come back inside..”

bill just hummed in response, going back to whatever he was doing. you assumed he was just scrolling over social media on his phone about the latest gossip and trends, after have peaking over his shoulder.

you wanted and craved his attention, for a while now you and bill have kinds built up this tension that surprisingly and thankfully nobody has caught onto yet.

so, you slipped your hands under bill’s shirt, as you stroked the skin of his long torso.

“o-oh! y/n, s’cold..” he moaned.

“f-fuck..”

“still cold?” you ask followed by a giggle.

you have one hand working up and down the length of his cock and the opposite pinching the bud that hid under his t-shirt.

you stood behind bill, despite being shorter than him, you could still easily access all his assets.

occasionally, you would pretend to fuck bill, humping your hips into his butt resulting in him getting all shy and bashful, face a beet red.

“ngh.. n-no.. shit, y/n.. someone could come in—any s-second now,”

you swirl your hand over the tip of bill’s cock and it leads to him jerking his head back, leaning it on your shoulder “ooh..!” peaking over his, you get a better glimpse of the sight, his cock is pretty and pink, glistening from all the pre-cum you masturbated over his length.

“watcha gettin all shy for?? been moaning like a bitch in heat for a couple of minutes,”

“h-hahh.. y/nnn stawwp.. ‘m gonna cum..”

it’s time to work, pinching his nipple even harder with a slight twist, jerking his cock off at a more quick pace, a loud wet squelching noise accompanied by it.

bill grabs your hand that jerks him off to still your movements but you’re too strong for him. how? don’t fucking ask why it’s for plot reasons.

at this point, he feels to good from the stimulation that he lets you do him as you please, letting it all out with a wanton moan.

“ja.. oh fuck y/n.. keep going..”

“awwww how precious, just a second ago you wanted me to stop, such a good boy..” you coo at bill.

“mmmnn, i feel achy, feel s’warm.. feel s’good..”

“hey bill! we’re back—oh y/n! you’re here early!”

“hi tom!”

“bill?? you okay??”

“y-yeah.. m’fine..”

tom contorted his face in confusion. his brother was fine just an hour ago and wasn’t really doing anything before him gustav and georg left so why was he acting all weird now?

georg and gustav seemed to not have cared as they immediately head to a different room, you were washing something off your hands while bill stood there awkwardly beside you.

hopefully tom doesn’t notice bill’s flushed cheeks and that the fly of his jeans were open.

a/n : im sorry i made this so filthy i cant write fluff for the life of me :c

[gottalovetumbler]

𝓓𝓪𝔂 6

𝓓𝓪𝔂 7

ⁿⁱᵏᵗᵒ/ᵏᵒⁿⁱᵍ ˣ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

Info: Fem!Reader, cussing, description of cut skin, more cussing. Long chapter so tall better enjoy.

——— 🚔 🏃‍♀️———

It’s hard to ignore one person when they try to talk to you but three? Three attractive people with nice (not understandable) accents trying to get a reaction out of you? That’s fucking impossible.

‘ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕠𝕟 ℂ𝕒𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕠 𝕛𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕥𝕖𝕝𝕝 𝕦𝕤 𝕙𝕞𝕞? 𝕎𝕙𝕠’𝕤 𝕘𝕠𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕣 𝕒𝕔𝕔𝕖𝕟𝕥? 𝕀𝕤 𝕚𝕥 𝕞𝕖?’

‘𝕆𝕗 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕤𝕖 𝕚𝕥’𝕤 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦, 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕗𝕦𝕔𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕕𝕚𝕠𝕥. ℍ𝕖𝕣 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕖 𝕕𝕠𝕖𝕤𝕟’𝕥 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕖 𝕒𝕥 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕥𝕒𝕝𝕜, 𝕨𝕙𝕚𝕔𝕙 𝕀 𝕘𝕦𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕞𝕖𝕒𝕟𝕤 𝕤𝕙𝕖 𝕒𝕝𝕤𝕠 𝕕𝕠𝕖𝕤𝕟’𝕥 𝕗𝕚𝕟𝕕 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕔𝕦𝕥𝕖 𝕖𝕚𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣.’ Valeria says with a smirk.

‘𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕥’𝕤 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕥𝕣𝕦-‘

‘𝔸𝕔𝕥𝕦𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕚𝕥 𝕚𝕤 𝔸𝕝𝕖, 𝕤𝕔𝕚𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕗𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕟 𝕥𝕠𝕠.’

A look of shocked hurt crosses his face as, Alejandro, turns back to face you.

‘𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝕀’𝕞 𝕔𝕦𝕥𝕖 𝕕𝕠𝕟’𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕄𝕚𝕛𝕒? 𝕀’𝕞 𝕒𝕥-𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕥 𝕓𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕓𝕚𝕥𝕔𝕙 𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥?’

‘𝕆𝕙 𝕀 𝕤𝕨𝕖𝕒𝕣 𝕥𝕠-‘

‘As funny as it's tae watch her panic over yer accents th' poor birds heart rate is almos’ tae 200bpm. Any quicker 'n' we're gonna git scolded by th' nurses again. Speaking of, probably gettin’ hungry huh? I’ll go en grab ye some food.’ You shoot Gaz a confused look as Soap stands and stares at you expectantly.

‘He’s gonn’ go grab you some food luv. Any preferences?’

‘Ah no I’m good with whatever.’ You answer with a small smile. ‘Can you please turn off the lights though, they’re starting to hurt my eyes.’ Soap flips the switch before heading out, followed closely by Rudy and Ale.

A couple quiet minutes pass till Gaz stands with a grunt.

‘I’m gonna go an update Captan’ Price on everything and you,’ He points to Valeria, ‘are coming with me. Can’t trust you won’t do anything if I leave you alone.’

She grumbles under her breath as she stands to join him.

‘Need anything while we’re gone luv?’

‘No I’m okay, I’ll see you in a bit.’

‘Okay, we’ll be back soon, push the nurses button if you have any issues.’ And with that they head out, leaving you in silence.

You sit there picking at your nails, the Mexicans are fun to talk to but the lights are starting to hurt your eye’s. It’s kinda nice being able to talk to someone other than Gaz and Chase. They’re fun to watch as they banter and try to help you understand what they’re saying. Though they won’t give you any hints to what the nicknames they call you mean.

The headache starts to make your ears ring and eyes sting. (I’m a fucking rapper now) You try laying down to sleep off the pain but after a few minutes you give up. Irritation grows in your veins as sleep tries to pull you under but the headache keeps you gasping for air.

If you can just get to your own bed then you’ll be okay. You keep a small ac unit in your room with a cooling pillow. If you can just get there then maybe you can sleep well. Your brains muddled and desperate to find solutions so you just follow the thoughts it spews out.

Carefully stepping on the ground, you’re luckily not hooked up to anything but the heart rate monitor. It’ll probably make a sound if you just take it off so you unplug it instead.

Slow steps take you to the bag in the corner holding a fresh change of clothes. They were meant to be worn in 2 days, when you actually get discharged, but you’re not walking out of here in a gown so they’re getting worn now.

Once you pull the soft pants and large tee-shirt on you lock eyes with your reflection in the mirror. Fuck, you forgot just how fucked up your face looks.

The bandage takes up the center of your face but it doesn’t fully cover the brushing your nose suffered. Spots of dark blue and purple creep out from under the skin colored bandage. Small cuts decorate the rest of the uncovered skin. Some of the deeper ones have tiny bandages but most are just little scabs littering your cheeks and forehead.

Exiting the bathroom you look around for something to cover your face with. It won’t be long till someone gets back and you gotta get gone. You’re about to give up, just lay back down and suffer with your headache when you spot a box on the corner of the counters. Light blue medical masks.

You snap one on as you slip through the door, signs helpfully tell you which way the roof and cafeteria are so you go the opposite direction. Luckily that’s also towards the exit.

Staff don’t give you a second thought as you slip past them through the halls with your head tilted down. The elevator dings as it arrives on your floor, a couple stepping off as you step on. The ride from the top floor to the bottom is long and slow.

The elevator stops on floor 2 and the doors ding open as two men step on, one carrying a bouquet of lillies. You shift into the front left corner and they stand towards the back right. As the elevator starts moving you glance towards the doors reflection of the men and freeze.

You recognize the one holding the flowers, Konig, Rudy had mentioned off handedly. The one with the ripped shirt, standing right behind you with the same terrifying mask on. Honestly it’s surprising they even let him in with it on. If you thought Konig was scary though, the man standing next to him doesn’t even have a word to describe the way he looks.

A mask covering everything except his eyes, like Konig, but his mask is skin tight. Outlining his nose and ears. You look towards his eyes in the reflections again and startle as you lock eye contact with him. His shrink into slivers as yours widen.

As soon as the door dings open you step out and of course, right into a broad chest.

‘Oh I’m so sorry miss, are you ok?’ You assure the man as you speed walk off, not looking back. The headache is still pounding as you rush through the hospital doors and out into the air. The cooling breeze helps cool your head and calm the pounding a bit. You head towards one of the corners cause by the door jutting out and just soak up the air.

Your eyes startle open as you heard loud thud leave the hospital. Glancing around the corner you’re hidden behind and see Konig and the mystery man standing there. You watch their heads as they slowly and methodically scan the area before standing back behind the corner.

Please just give. Please. Please. Please. Just go back and give those flowers to whoever you guys are visiting. Why did they even follow you out? Did you do something wrong? Were they gonna yell at you? Did you accidentally fuck up their flowers?

Feet shuffle closer and you hold your breath. The “fresh” air now suffocates you as it seems to grow warmer, causing your headache to flare again. You squeeze your eyes closed to try and alleviate some pain. The shuffling eventually stops and after a few beats you crack your eyes open, screaming at what you see.

The unnamed masked man is standing 6 inches away from you. You jerk your head back in shock and nearly knock yourself on the brick wall behind you but something soft protects your head. You look to your right and see Konig himself standing there, his hand being the thing that protected you from a much worse headache.

‘ᘺᕼᘿᖇᘿ ᕲᓰᕲ ᖻᓍᑘ ᖶᕼᓰᘉᖽ ᖻᓍᑘ ᘺᘿᖇᘿ ᘜᓍᓰᘉᘜ SᓍᒪᘉᓰSᕼᖽᓍ? ᕲᓰᕲ ᖻᓍᑘ ᖇᘿᗩᒪᒪᖻ ᖶᕼᓰᘉᖽ ᖻᓍᑘ ᑢᓍᑘᒪᕲ Sᒪᓰᕵ ᗷᖻ ᑘS?’ Ok either you’re going fucking crazy or he is just making random noises.

‘ጎ ፕዘጎክጕ ቿረቻርዘቿክ ዘልነ ል ዘልዪዕ ፕጎጠቿ ሁክዕቿዪነፕልክዕጎክኗ የቿዐየረቿ ክጎጕ. ረቿፕ’ነ ኗቿፕ ዘቿዪ ጌልርጕ ሁየ ፕዐ ዘቿዪ ዪዐዐጠ ጌቿቻዐዪቿ ነዘቿ ጎክጋሁዪቿነ ዘቿዪነቿረቻ ጠዐዪቿ.’

They share a look before the new one takes your wrist gently and tugs. You shoot him a a fearful look and stand firm, your other hand rubbing your forehead.

‘ᑢᓍᘻᘿ ᓍᘉ SᓍᒪᘉᓰSᕼᖽᓍ, ᒪᘿᖶ’S ᘜᘿᖶ ᖻᓍᑘ ᑘᕵ ᖶᓍ ᗷᘿᕲ ᕼᑘᕼ?’

‘I can- I can’t understand you. Im sorry.’

You mutter as you continue to rub your forehead, closing your eyes again.

Konig clears his throat and grabs your other wrist, pulling your hand off your reddening forehead.

‘ሠቿ’ዪቿ ጋሁነፕ ኗዐጎክኗ ፕዐ н︎є︎ℓρ yσυ в︎α︎¢к︎ т︎σ в︎є︎∂︎ ልክዕ ኗቿፕ ሃዐሁ ነዐጠቿ м︎є︎∂︎ι¢ιηє︎. ዐጕልሃ?’

Oh back to bed? Okay. You nod your head and slowly follow the men. You blink and find yourself tucked back in bed as a nurse hooks back up the monitor. They let you stay in your clothing, pajamas, and with short scolding left you alone. Well as alone as you can be with six other people in the room.

‘ℍ𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕘𝕠 ℕ𝕖𝕟𝕒, 𝕖𝕒𝕥 𝕦𝕡. 𝕎𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕒 𝕞𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕤𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕖𝕟𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙 𝕖𝕟𝕖𝕣𝕘𝕪 𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕒𝕤𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕥𝕣𝕪 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕣𝕦𝕟 𝕒𝕘𝕒𝕚𝕟.’ Rudy winks as he places the tray of food infront of you.

‘I wasn’t trying to run. Just wanted to go home and lay in my cold dark room.’ Your muttering is barely understandable as you shovel jello in like there’s no tomorrow.

‘Ok luv, we believe you.’ Gaz smiles as he hands you a second cup of water.

You eat in silence till the door creaks open and the unnamed masked man walks in holding something. He places a light blue vase filled with the white lillies from earlier on your bedside table.

‘Oh thank you. I didn’t realize they were for me.’ You thank the new man, honestly flattered that the masked giants got you flowers. ‘I’ve never gotten flowers before,’ you say with a blush. ‘They’re gorgeous.’

‘ᖶᕼᗩᖶ’ᒪᒪ ᑢᕼᗩᘉᘜᘿ SᓍᒪᘉᓰSᕼᖽᓍ, ᖶᕼᗩᖶ’ᒪᒪ ᑢᕼᗩᘉᘜᘿ….’

——— 🚔 🏃‍♀️———

Tis all! Hope y’all enjoyed!!

[testingthewatersss]

One day I'll get a request and keep it short, but uh, not today because this could've easily been a series. Under 4k is good for me though, so that's a win.This is my first time consciously shooting for a G/N reader in a long time so, bare with me.

Floodgates Usual Winter Solider context warnings but this is pretty tame tbh Bucky Barnes x G/N Reader Imagine 3830 words Fluff, mild angst. 18+ MDNI Requests open for a while via messages check masterpost for updated availability.

Everybody knows that Bucky is touch-starved. It's the unspoken truth that's used by everyone to excuse his irritable demeanour. It's the reason why nobody minds leaving the common rooms empty when he passes out on the couch in the middle of the day and Steve doesn't let Sam jab at him too much for how sweet he is on you. 

The hope that had flourished when you'd made your relationship a little more public was quickly dying out though. When all the inhabitants noticed that Barnes was still a grouch. If anything, he was more jumpy when people got too close. 

It was Bruce who suggested that the reason might be that the only person who didn't understand this blatant link between being kept isolated for the better part of a century and not tolerating mundane forms of contact might be Bucky.

After a lot of hushed discussion, Natasha was the one who decided to address it. Not being able to stand the undercurrent of gossip, but also not wanting to provoke any kind of intense reaction, she bided her time and cornered you. 

"Does Barnes know he needs some skin on skin, or is he still takin' the long way round figuring it out?"

Coffee catches in your throat. You're in a Starbucks, you've just run a stupid 5k route that you hadn't wanted to and she's asking you this, now?

"Of course, he knows" You reply after a beat, "I mean, we all know, but he really knows."

She looks unsurprised, offers you a brown sugar packet and sits back on her stool. 

"You know, couples-"

"Are you about to give me a sex talk?" you cut her off, humour making your lip quirk, "Please do not give me a sex talk"

"I wasn't talking about sex, we all know you're havin' plenty of that-"

You scoff at her, not bothering to ask how or why that's a topic of discussion at all. 

"-I know exactly what you're talking about..." you decide to say, tone a little more serious now, "...It's delicate, Nat"

"That's why I'm talking to you" she replies, "I want to stop hearin' about it, and the only way I can get Rodgers to stop talkin' is to stop him from worryin' and the only way to do that is give him something."

You consider her words for a moment before nodding. 

"He knows, I know- We all know, but it's difficult for him and I am not going to rush him into anything" You tell her, "but that doesn't mean I'm not keepin' an eye, and for what it's worth, he's gettin' better with the whole thing."

"His attitude didn't seem better this mornin'-" she counters from behind her paper cup, "He nearly Wilson put through a wall-"

"-for trying to get him to go to a couples therapist with Steve." You remind her smugly, "He told me all about it."

It's her turn to scoff then. 

"Any other personal things you want to ask me?" you press, half a challenge. She grins before making her expression intensely serious-

"So, about the sex-"

You don't linger in the cafe for long, and you definitely don't run back. You call a cab, much to Romanoff's dismay. The break from the serious atmosphere of the tower has done wonders for her mood though, and by the time you make it home your arms are ladened with bags. Fast food for everyone and clothes and some new kind of tablet thing that Tony had insisted he can turn into a portable holo-deck.

Bucky is waiting in your suite. 

The second you see him the conversation you'd had about his attitude seems ridiculous. 

He beams up at you so wide that he gets creases by his eyes, and all he can do is chatter about everything that's happened since you left.

Steve annoyed him by out-lapping him on their run. 

Wilson annoyed him, by well, breathing apparently. 

He's finally figured out how to fix the dishwasher, so he doesn't have to call maintenance anymore, and he's finished packing his bag for the mission he's leaving on in the morning, and, he tells you proudly- he's made dinner. 

It's some kind of soup, at least, you think it's meant to be a soup. But, whatever it is, it's good. And he's still smiling as you wash the dishes, bumping his hip against yours when you make a snarky comment about him still not using the dishwasher he's so proud of fixing.

And then he gets quiet. 

You're sitting together on the couch, the same way you have been for hours, with your legs barely touching but with his warm, flesh fingers wound tightly through yours. You think about asking why he's suddenly turned mute, but then you notice the time. 

"When do you leave?" You ask, stroking the back of his palm with your thumb.

"Four" he mumbles unhappily, giving your palm the lightest squeeze, "You're stayin' here, right doll? You're gonna wait for me?"

You laugh silently, pulling your legs up beside you to curl into his side. 

"Don't I always?" you tease, grinning as he reaches over with his metal hand, guiding your lips to his. 

"I'll be back before ten" He promises, "Steve promises"

"Oh, does he?" you murmur, lips still ghosting his, "You know he's driving Natasha crazy"

He quirks a brow, even so, close to his face you can see curiosity shining behind his eyes. 

"Aparently you're a jerk because I don't give you enough skin on skin"

He rolls his eyes, laughing as your fingers find his cheek.

The second you actually touch him, though- the laughter dies. He has to focus all of his energy on not moaning at the contact. 

You feel him tense and lessen the pressure, letting him move instead, pressing another kiss against your lips as he goes back to looking at you, this time, though, there's nothing but adoration behind the blue. 

"you do plenty" he whispers, before moving quickly, standing and pulling you up with him, carrying you effortlessly, "I'm fine."

"I know" You hear yourself agree, although you think he'll hear the doubt in your tone, "But- if you do ever want something, you know I'm here, right?"

What Bucky wants he thinks, is totally irrelevant. 

He wants to lay in your lap for hours, he wants to fall asleep and stay that way for hours because your fingers are in his hair. He wants to cry and not have to hide in a shower to do it. But you deserve better.

You deserve normal.

As normal as he can give you anyway. 

Not that that's much, but he can't control that he reminds himself sternly, what he can control, however, is this.

He can keep the floodgates closed. He can do what he does best and keep it down. 

He can make do with fleeting points of contact. With your hand in his, and your body in the same bed. The warmth of you is more than enough. You being there, smiling safe and lovely is more than enough. 

And when he places you on the soft mattress and watches you start to tangle yourself with the covers, he's once again certain that that is all he needs. 

What would I say, anyway? he thinks sadly, taking his place on the side of the bed that always seems too cold, How could I even bring that up without openin' a whole can of worms? 

His cheeks burn hot with embarrassment, and as he thinks tragically about how much he wants to just reach out and feel you, his eyes start to sting.

"You doin' alright, sweetheart?" you ask, already knowing that he's not. He nods though and forces a smile you recognise. 

"Tired" he mumbles unconvincingly. 

Before his cheeks can get any more pink, you decide to smile back. It works to settle him. So does the way you reach out to take his hand again. 

"I'll try not to wake you up" he promises quietly, "I'll see you tomorrow night"

"Tonight" You correct, looking over at the clock on his nightstand, "It's 1, you're leavin' in 3 hours, you better try and get some rest."

You don't know whether he does or not. He's gone when you wake up, reaching out for the fingers you normally fall asleep holding. He's left a note, telling you he loves you, and that he'll see you soon. And you tell FRIDAY to send him a message wishing him luck. When you don't get a reply, you decide to keep yourself busy. You order a delivery of food, which Bucky needs more than he realises, the state of his small built-in kitchen is shameful it's at best and depressing at its worst. 

In all fairness, a punnet of pulmbs, some milk, 2 carrots and half a loaf of bread is far from that- but still. A stock-up isn't going to hurt anything.

And then you still haven't heard, and the tower is creepy when it's empty. 

Like a school at night, you muse, walking through the walls, chattering to FRIDAY just to have some background noise.

Aside from assuring you that everyone's vital signs are fine, she can't actually do much to distract you, so in the end, you abandon her too and settle for sitting in your suite, on the bed, exactly where Bucky had left you. 

You fall asleep reading and only wake up when you hear the door click open. You beam, rubbing tiredness from your eyes as you wait expectantly for him to come in and greet you. 

He doesn't though. You can hear movement but it's not coming towards you, so you decide to just go to it instead.

"Hi, sweetheart-"

Your happy greeting dies as soon as you see him. Flushed with adrenaline, and tugging at his belt, which is still laden with grenades. When he finally rips it free, tossing it to the floor with such reckless abandon that you can't help but cringe, you walk towards him. 

He's pulling at his vest now. Metal fingers pulling desperately at the straps that hold it in place, growing more and more frustrated as he can't quite get them loose-

"Here" you whisper, hating the look of anguish he's wearing, "Let me help"

His arm snarls as you reach out to replace his fingers with your own. But to his great surprise, you don't even flinch. You just hush out a soft breath and guide the metal palm away. 

"You're fine" you promise, seeing the way he's relenting. 

His brow meets the window as he leans against it, both arms falling lamely to his sides as he focuses on breathing. 

On staying still and not just taking off running until his legs give way beneath him. 

"You're back late" you muse, flicking a glance at the wall, where the time is being projected by what you're assuming is Tony's version of a wall clock.

11: 33

"Not too late though, huh?" you continue, knowing he likes the background noise, "Is anyone hurt?"

Bucky gives a short shake of his head. 

It hurts. The movement sends daggers through his eyes. But still, he bites his tongue and tries to keep still.

He needs the vest off. He needs the layers of heavy, bulletproof padding, gone. He needs to not feel like he's dressed for battle, and he needs the ringing in his head to stop.

"Just you then" you murmur, more to yourself than to him.

"'m fine" he mutters, knowing you won't argue- especially since it's exactly what you've just told him.

You hum in quiet disagreement instead. Tugging the last of the straps free before letting the rough weighted vest fall to the ground with a dull thud that makes you wonder if you should've checked it for explosives first. 

"Better?" 

Your voice cuts through the pulsing in his ears, making him hyper-aware of the way he's still resting his head against the cool glass of a window of all things. 

Is it better? he thinks, rolling his shoulders unhappily. 

"Yeah" he murmurs, "Yeah, thank you, sugar"

And then he turns to you, wearing the fakest smile you've ever seen, and you can't help but reach out and stroke his cheek. 

He flinches. He physically recoils back into the glass with a look so sad that you miss the false grin. 

"They-uh" he coughs, embarrassment burning through his chest, "They shouted my words out through a speaker" he confesses, "I- I probbaly shouldn't even be here- Steve, Tony, they all, all say I'm okay, but I- I might... I, I just wanted to see you"

Your phone is already in your hand. Typing frantic questions to Natasha, to Tony and Steve and feeling your whole chest relax as replies start flooding in. 

The words are deactivated, as deactived as they can be, anyway. He's not a danger, not that a different answer to that question would've changed anything, and everyone knows where he is. When he'd bolted from the Quinn-jet in irritable silence, the entire team had let him go because they knew exactly where he was going, and considering the fact that he's physically uninjured, fighting to get him to go to Med-bay would've been a waste of everyone's energy. 

They still might've tried, in fact, Steve definitely would've tried, if they hadn't all been exhausted already. 

When you look back up at him, your heart cracks straight down the middle.

He's just, waiting. 

Eyes closed, brow on the glass,with his breath making it fog up by his face. 

His back is heaving too, shining in the dim lights of the room. His back is shaking like he's crying, but his jaw is locked tight. 

"What do you need, huh?" you wonder softly, not moving to touch him again, "Sweet, sweet boy- you got off that plane, and you ran- you ran all the way here, and then you stopped in here, why?"

His eyes flicker open, red and sore. 

"I" he swallows, "I had to get it off"

You quirk your head, not understanding, and then you see the vest by his boots and nod. 

"It hurts" he mutters to himself, "It's always hurt. I needed it off"

You know he's not talking to you, but you nod all the same, hoping that it might at the very least encourage him to keep his eyes open.

And then you realise what he's saying, and you can't keep quiet anymore.

"What hurts?" you ask softly.

His cheeks are hot again. He knows that he's embarrassed. That he should be, that it's right that he's burning with shame, but with the way his head is splintering he really doesn't care.

"The vest," he tells you quietly, "My skin, it- uh...it's always... the scars they uh... I- I needed to get it off..."

He looks at you, expecting to see a hint of something. Disgust, maybe? Or pity. What he doesn't expect, is the way you just nod again, expression understanding as you inch closer towards him. 

He bites back a whimper, using all the strength he has left to not just collapse in your arms. 

Keep the floodgates closed.

"Its off..." you remind him mildly, "Your home, it's off... so, what else do you need?"

Bucky blinks, sniffing to try and stop tears from forming as he stares at you.

And then, he hears you sigh, and his chest tightens so much that he can't catch a breath. 

A sigh is never good. He thinks. He's done it. He's finally done it. He's done something that has made you realise he's a lost cause. 

He's the lost cause. 

But, when he forces himself to look back at you, wanting to memorise your face before you leave his world forever, no matter how painful it is, he sees you smiling. Leaning against the window, only inches away from him. 

"I want to help" you promise softly.

A disbelieving scoff bubbles up through the tightness of his throat, and for a second, you think he looks like himself again. Even if he's a little rough around the edges.

"You did..." Bucky reminds you quietly, "I couldn't get it off, and you helped me"

The urge to roll your eyes at his gratitude is quickly tempered by the genuine affection in his tone. You settle for nodding instead. 

"So what else do you need?"

This time, when your hand meets his face he shivers. Feeling something deep in his chest snap as he starts to lean back into the contact. 

"C-could you..." he gulps, desperately shy now, "God, doll- could you just, touch my hair?"

"Your hair" you murmur, love drenching every word as you slowly trail your fingers up past his temple, stroking through the tangled length so gently he wants to scream. 

"Please" he shudders, "don't pull-"

His frantic request chokes off incomplete, the heat in his cheeks making his jaw lock petulently.

"You don't like havin' your hair pulled?" you muse, tone light in contrast to his, "Noted."

"Does anyone?" he wonders bravely, adjusting to the slow, trailing warmth across his head.

You laugh at that, further coaxing him out of his embarrassment.

"Sure they do, Buck," you tell him conversationally, "people like all kinds of things..."

He's melting. He's sure he's physically melting into your fingers. Into the gentle tug and pull, into the wonderful, brilliant sting of human contact.

All you hear is the softest hum. It's content though, so you take it as a win. 

"So since this definitely a winner..." you drawl, bringing your free hand down to his, letting him grasp your fingers in reflex, "What else do you like?"

The part of his brain that isn't purring like a cat, stuttering to a halt at your question. His eyes focus, as he blinks at you, face full of such total adoration that you feel like you should probably look away, but he's so beautiful that you can't quite manage it. 

"You"

That makes you laugh, small and flattered as you shake your head.

"You've got me, Barnes." You remind him lightly, "If we could be doin' anything, anythin' in the world, right now what would we be doin?"

The smile he gives you then is the most precious one he's ever worn. Your whole body flushes with affection as he chuckles silently reaching up and pressing a kiss against the back of your hand, as you scratch your free knuckles against the back of his head.

"I have no idea" he mumbles honestly.

Your brow quirks, before you move, pivoting and opening your arms to coax him in.

He freezes, staring at you with longing as he offers a sad shake of his head-

"I can't- darlin'-" he stammers nervously, "I want to- I- I really- I-"

"You" he hears you whisper, "can do whatever you like."

He shakes his head again, stubborn this time.

"Not that" he mumbles, "Not to you"

"To me" you repeat, curious.

His lips tighten and then part, breath shallow as your thumb finds his cheek.

"I won't be able to stop" he explains, voice quiet like he's sharing a secret, "If I start, I won't ever be able to stop and you- you're-you're everythin' to me and I- I can't put that on you- because I really- I mean it- I don't-"

Your head is already shaking, your arms are moving, pulling him into your chest. 

"I don't think I'll ever be able to stop" Bucky feels his words melting into your shoulder, he feels the heat of your body against his. His bare chest burning against the thin fabric of your vest. The feeling of your skin against his threatening to make his knees buckle. "I- I won't be able to stop"

You shake your head, hushing him as his resistance fades away to nothing. As he goes pliant in your arms, head falling to the crook of your neck. 

"I'm sorry" he whispers, "I'm so sorry"

"You're never listen" You mumble in reply, letting his hand go so that you can hold him tight against your front, "I just told you, sweetheart..."

Bucky pulls away just enough to look at you, and when you see tears brimming in his eyes, you can't help but hush him again, noting the way his hands are wound tight into the fabric you're wearing. 

His lower lip pouts, he tries to avert his gaze but it doesn't work. He just can't manage to tear his eyes away from you. From the way you're looking at him, full of affection. Full of patience and kindness and-

"Didn't I just tell you, huh?" you murmur, smiling a little again, "You've got me"

He blinks, still not understanding. 

So you do the only thing you can. 

You kiss him. You kiss him until he pulls back, until he dips back down into your arms, tired and aching and pressing his own kisses against the skin of your throat.

"I'm not goin' anywhere" You remind him gently, "We don't ever have to stop"

We don't ever have to stop.

Your sweet words rattle through his mind all the way to the bedroom. 

If it weren't for the aching in his knees and the awful cold of the room now that he's not hidden in your front, he might not've even noticed the journey. 

He's too tired, now. His head aches, and his adrenaline is well and truly shot. But the hope of you, of more of the wonderful warmth of you, is more than enough to keep him moving through it. 

I've done worse for less, he reminds himself with every wounded step. 

We don't ever have to stop.

And then there's the bed. The edge of the bed against his calves, and he knows his hands are free and that he should be doing something but he can't think of what, no matter how hard he tries.

You remind him, your hands on his belt, your feet nudging his boots so he remembers to kick them free before finally lowering himself onto the covers.

For a minute the familiar coolness jars him. His head spins and throbs and pulses and then, 

and then your fingers are back in his hair. Your arms are wrapped around him, and all he can feel is warmth. 

Warmth and pressure building behind his eyes. Incredible pressure that finally spills free as his eyes overflow. As he surrenders and clings onto your back with all the strength he has left, and cries.

He sobs, silently at first, tears melting into your chest as you stroke his back. Whispering soothing words that you know he can't hear. Letting him finally just be. 

And then, he's asleep. And so are you, a tangle of limbs and covers and heat. The kind of heat that makes you drowsy, that makes Bucky drowsy. 

Drowsy enough to sleep through whatever nightmares were bound to have been triggered by the missions, drowsy enough to keep him that way for hours in a row. And when he does wake up, for the first time in... well, a long time- he's smiling.

[pix-writes]

Uhhhh Stan adopting a teenage runaway who came from an abusive home. (He sees a lot of his past self when he was homeless in them and vows to save them from the life he had)

This is kind of adjacent to an idea for a fic I've already had! But I couldn't resist doing a little bit about this scenario! <3

Stan has already basically adopted Wendy and Soos already, even without fully meaning to with Soos he sees that he needs a father figure in his life and sort-of does the best he can to be that. With Wendy, its different too because it's basically canon that he just lets her get away with stuff because he knows she needs somewhere away from home to relax (even tho he could definitely get another employee who doesn't bunk off so much). Will he admit that's what he's doing though? Of course not!

Despite his exterior/persona, though, Stanley Pines is a kind man who wants to help people who most need it - like you say, he's been in that position enough times himself. I'm sure there's been the occaisonal person who's helped him out in the past, even if they never stuck around. Well, now he's Mr Mystery, he can sort-of be that person for others, not just because he's more stable, but also because he desperatly wants connection, especially after losing his brother in the portal (though that's also a reason to keep everyone at arms length to an extent, so they can never find out about his double life).

Runaway teen & Stan pines (under cut):

I can imagine you ran away from home and come across Gravity Falls, perhaps you had even seen the ads for tourist stops in this area, or maybe you just found the most random small town on your travels and decided to stop there - your travels are erratic so that no one can follow you or suspect you of being a runaway. Not that you really expect your parents to be concerned, at least not for long. That's why you had to get away and stay gone, you had reached your breaking point for what you could handle.

It starts to rain, you go to the local diner but your travel money is fast becoming less and less... you only order coffee, nursing it there for as long as possible, but when business starts to pick up you realise just how small of a town it is, everyone seems to know nearly everybody around here! You've already gotten a few curious glances or greetings put your way and you decide to leave.

Wandering around, you end up on the outskirts of town, there's a fair few campsites around, now lying half empty since its off-season right now, maybe you coud stay on the edge of the forest somewhere? Pinch some tent equipment from somewhere or from someone who doesn't need it? You already had a sleeping bag, water bottle, a torch. You just needed something to keep more of the rain off of you!

That's when you wander into an opening within the forest, notice the wooden signs nailed to the trees. You see a small group of tourists being spoken to by some guy, his voice carrying across the place, gravelly and jovial, and in your surprise you just stare dumbfounded - this place isn't closed? The group is moving and you take in your surroundings and you're so cold and wet and hungry, you're not really thinking ahead when go in, pulling your hoodie down over your face and sneaking in beind the throng of people, unnoticed.

But it turns out that you had been noticed, after the bizarre tour of this overpriced tourist trap, you lurk behind, the rain hasn't let up outside and you're wondering when the place might close, now that the tourists had filtered out the place was pretty dead, which is when a large hand lands on your shoulder making you jump out of your skin and your eyes land on the proprietor.

"Hey! You gonna at least buy anything, kid?"

You apologise and stutter, feeling like you want to bolt but totally caught at the same time. Stan immediately picks up on the fact that you're so twitchy, even for a teen. He eases up on you, switching to a friendlier tone. Wendy asks you where you're staying, curiosity getting the better of her usually nonchalant demeanour. You tell them you just got lost from the campsite and Stan isn't buying it one bit but Wendy has given you the directions and you're out of the door. The interaction doesn't sit right with him. He knows exactly where you're hiding out by the time you've stayed there overnight. Having discovered the pop up tent you 'found' set up in the woods not far away.

He decides to keep an eye on you, he's worried being direct will make startle you, like a deer in headlights, at the diner he doesn't acknowledge you at first just pushes a plate of food subtly towards you, for you to swipe. After that he manages to make small talk, hes still wondering how he can help you, what excuse he can make so it seems like he's offering you something and it be believable instead of suspicious.

Maybe he complains there's no one around to do the stock take now that summer is well and truly over, you perk up, saying you'd like some extra pocket money. You come right on time and the owner of the Mystery Shack introduces himself properly, shows you what you need to do. You take your time, living rough has made you exhausted mentally/physically, and because... you've begun to like the place as kooky as it is. And wouldn't you know it, Mr Pines has made more food than he expected and wouldn't you like some? You come back the next day and its pretty much the same, though you are starting to pick up on where Stan is subtly gaining information on you. He both curses and admires how whip-smart you are, reminds him of himself a lot further into being homeless than you are (reminds him of someone else too...), he worries that night of whether you'll have run off, if you'd get into trouble somewhere else, but you return the following afternoon. This time, Stan levels with you -

"Look kid, I don't know what's going on at home and trust me when I say I get it - but whatever's going on, it's probably not worth staying out in the woods, epseically 'round here, it's dangerous!" He reassures you he's not going to call anyone, though, just asks you to reconsider, think about how much trouble you might get into, if you don't turn up to school how you're going to explain yourself, how are you going to get a job? You swipe frustrated tears from your eyes and thank him for being concerned, though its hollow. How can you return home now? All you're going to get is more abuse, you can only think of how angry they'll all be if you did!

You end up wandering to some other town, using the money Stan gave you to get a bus and find a place to stay, having seen a load of jobs you could apply for. Turns out though, that some of your family had been looking for you and tracked your phone, you end up in a fight with them, receiving a hard slap to the face before running away once more! You pack up your things and head straight to the first place you think of.

Once you get there, its dark, you hesitate before knocking but you've came all this way. When Stan opens the door all of the shock and adrenaline has seemed to have worn off and you see the mix of sadness, surprise and anger on his face at the clear mark on your face from the fight.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know where else to go." Is all you can get out before bursting into tears. He let's you stay, you've been out in the cold and so stressed over this time that when you come in you're shivering, you end up running a nasty fever. You're so exhausted there's nothing left but to accept your fate and Stan feels he must help you. He piles on the blankets and gives you hot drinks and plain food till the fever runs its course.

He still has a bit of trouble with authorities/some family members looking for you in the area, you traded your old phone in for another and Stan was eventually able to brush them off your trail. He couldn't help it, he liked the kid in the small amount of time he knew them and it was clear that you had danger waiting for you at home. You had told him a little after the first night you had stayed at the shack, words tumbling out of your mouth about your trauma, how you couldn't stand your family. His heart sank as he remembered his own life as a young man, a kid technically, homeless and making ends meet and was determined you wouldn't have the same fate. Yet he had to know you were sure.

"You really want to stay here - in this boring ol' town? At the shack?" You were determined you would, as long as he was okay with that, you vowed to work hard, sweep the floors, keep an eye on the gift shop when Wendy couldn't, anything to be useful. But, you didn't want him to get into trouble. Too little too late for that, he thought to himself.

"But, really do ya want to see this ugly mug every day?" He said gesturing to his face. That brought a slight smile to your face, in fact you ended up giggling and he knew he wouldn't be able to get rid of you now (like he ever would've entertained it).

He sighed. "So, do you trust me? Cause I need some kind of story if ya gonna stay here, kiddo."

He needed a lot more than that of course, he ended up getting you a fake ID and if anyone asked, you were family, here to stay for a while. When people asked anything more than that he got cagey, but he liked thinking of you being a Pines, another part of the family. Part of him felt guilty for doing it too, faking that you had the same last name, he still thought you might not want to stick around, you weren't blood family to him, you had no ties to him, but he wanted family so badly, was it so bad to pretend that you were?

He made sure you got to school, he even started to pack you lunches every day, he wasn't so bothered about homework, saying he didn't think much of school when he went anyway, you both had something more important than that (street smarts!), but when you were struggling with your math homework you were surprised that he semmed to know an awful lot, but then again you probably shouldn't be surprised, he did own a business after all. Whilst there wasn't a lot to do around the Mystery Shack all year round, you still found yourself picking up around the house part of the Shack, doing the laundry, washing the dishes, normal chore stuff - isn't that what teens were supposed to do? Stan was surprised to see a teen do chores unprompted and you were nervous that you'd done something wrong, because why else would he be questioning you? He recovered quickly though and just grumbled out something about 'finally, someone who knows how to pick up after themselves/work' but from the expression on his face, you are relieved to know that he is joking with you and he isn't mad. You're picking up on his quirks.

The months roll by and you started to feel safer, the shack became more familiar, you were less frightened and jumpy, people in town were more friendly, familiar faces and if people knew that you weren't actually related, that you were a runaway, they didn't say anything at all. You were starting to be referred to as 'Stan's kid'. No one had said so in front of Stan so far as you knew, it made you feel some residual guilt, even after all that you're family had done, were you really not a burden to Stan? Was it wrong to see him like a parent? What would you do if he no longer wanted you around? But as much as you were scared of being rejected, a situation came up at the Shack at the beginning of your first summer in the falls. A gathering was forming for a tour and some tourist had asked something or assumed he was your parent, something like that. Unbeknownst to you Stan had heard and he freezed, unconsciously waiting on your response.

"Oh, you'll wanna ask my dad, he's the one over there in the fez?" It just slipped out, you should've said Mr Mystery at work, but you couldn't help the feeling in your chest that it was right. Ever since then you had been tentatively saying it (you eventually start to notice how when you knew Stan had heard it he seemed a little emotional) and Stan now proudly referred to you as 'his kid'. You may or may not call him 'dad' to his face, maybe you'll still just call him 'Stan' but it seems like now you officially have a family!

[princessbrunette]

shy!reader who study medicine and spider!jj always goes there when he's hurt for care 🥺

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answering the door at 4am, there’s only one person it could be. the blonde listens to you unlatching your door before you’re revealed in all your sleepy glory, rubbing at one eye in the cutest little pyjamas.

he’s pretty banged up this time — a busted lip and his suit is ripped at his rib cage, nothing he couldn’t fix but the gash beneath it was definitely something you were going to have to stitch up. your brows knit together, eyeing him over.

“you should see the other guy, cupcake.” he jokes, despite being in clear pain. you huff out your nose, tugging him inside.

“why are you using the front door? did anyone see you?” you stress, leading him by the hand to your quaint little living room. it wasn’t much, rather shabby if anything — but living in the city wasn’t cheap and it was the best you could do.

“ah, i used the fire escape. this asshole spared me some brain cells when he was kicking my shit in. you really think i’d just walk up in here?” he scoffs, dropping down comfortably on the couch as you frantically make space on the coffee table, spreading out your first aid kit.

“you’re gonna give me a heart attack one of these days, jayj.” you pout, beginning to dig for the antiseptic.

“oh but then who will patch me up everytime i get my ass beat?” he tilts his head and his messy blonde hair flops with it, grinning lopsidedly in the dim light of the room, the cut on his lip glistening with it. you hate how your stomach stirs with butterflies for your best friend. your face gets all hot, averting your eyes and you feel him grinning harder — he always did love how bashful you got.

things get quiet when you start to wipe up his rib injury, aside from his dramatic winces and curse words tumbling from his mouth.

“you’re going to wake my neighbours.” you giggle, after a particularly loud ‘fuck’ from him.

“hey, maybe they’ll think you’re gettin’ some.” he teases, wiggling his eyebrows. as you reach for another cotton pad, your mouth moves on autopilot.

“i wish.” you remark, straying from your usual shy ways. his brows instantly jump up with intrigue, and you avoid his eyes, pressing your lips together as you busy yourself. you’d always been shy, since he’d met you — that’s why he’d taken you under his wing. he was dorky where it counted sure, but also boyish and confident in a way a lot of guys your age lacked. it made sense that he was spiderman, the unexpected amounts of unbridled swagger mixed with the scrappy awkwardness you’d expect from your best friend. he was drawn to your shyness because of how different you were, and because he knew deep down there was a freak just waiting for him to break it free.

“you know, if you ever wanna set up a — uh, lil payment plan, if you will — i could show you a real good time, mama.” he lays it on thick, too thick — incase you reject him, and then he can play it off as a joke. the problem is his tone is so teasing, you don’t know if he’s joking. your eyes flicker up to him from your knelt position, all doe-like and sweet in the way that makes him wish his spider suit wasn’t so tight as to not reveal his excitement.

“huh?”

“nah nothing. unless…you really get desperate. can totally step in and help you out. y’know in the…sex department.” he shrugs, tonguing at his lip cut and internally cussing himself out for being such a weirdo.

you blink a couple times, shifting to sit on your feet.

“are you concussed?” you speak after the pause.

“am i conc— no, okay it was a — an offer. but i feel like i kinda made it weird so that’s my bad let’s just pretend that didn’t happen and we can—”

“i wouldn’t mind.” you suddenly but quietly break through his ramble. he blinks a couple of times, lips parted in surprise.

“you wouldn’t mind — like… pretending this didn’t happen? or… the other thing?”

“the other thing.” you’re reduced down to a whisper now, eyes locked. he sits up slowly, leaning forward on the seat with his elbows on his knees so that your faces were close. in the low light, your pupils are all blown out, searching his eyes.

“you mean that?” he smirks, almost like he doesn’t believe you. you swallow and nod, not trusting your voice. something about it being 4am made you braver, and you’d completely forgotten about tending to his injuries. “well alright then. how ‘bout when i’m not bleeding out on your couch? gotta be in top condition when i put the moves on you.”

just like that, you’re brought back to reality — this time with the whisper of a promise that the two of you could be something more. you could be more than a late night emergency patch up.

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