#security guard monitoring system

[techdriveplay]

What Are the Best Ways to Protect Your Car from Theft?

The unfortunate reality is that car theft is a persistent issue, impacting car owners globally. Despite advancements in security technology, thieves continually adapt, finding new ways to circumvent these systems. Today, we delve into the best ways to protect your car from theft, equipping you with practical advice and advanced tactics to safeguard your vehicle. Fact: According to the National…

[matcha3mochi]

GLASS BETWEEN US Pairing: Merman Rafayel x Scientist Reader

author note: ive been into love and deepspace recently, so here ya go hehe

wc: 4,870

───⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

You took the job because you needed a way out.

It wasn’t glamorous. It wasn’t even particularly well-paid. But the offer came with minimal paperwork, restricted clearance, and one very clear instruction: ask no questions.

So you accepted.

The facility—remote, underground, heavily secured—was the kind of place not listed on maps. It didn’t exist according to the public record, and yet it buzzed with life: researchers, guards, engineers, medics. They all moved with the quiet, tense urgency of people doing work that couldn’t be acknowledged outside these walls.

Your first day was a blur of orientation. Non-disclosure clauses, retinal scans, and procedural briefings stacked with redacted pages. You caught glimpses of terms like “specimen,” “cognitive divergence,” “aquatic containment.”

No one told you what exactly was inside Lab C. Just that you’d be assisting with long-term observation. You assumed it would be another mutated marine species pulled up from some trench, something grotesque and territorial. Maybe even dangerous.

But the truth was stranger.

When they finally led you through the corridors and into the observation chamber, you expected cold steel and sharp smells.

Instead, the room was quiet. Dim. The tank was massive—more an aquarium than a cell—bathed in low light that shimmered across the walls like waves. The water inside was dark, cold, impossibly deep. You stepped forward, clutching your tablet, already preparing to log oxygen levels and salinity.

That was when you saw him.

Not a specimen.

Not a subject.

Something else.

Your breath caught before you even registered why.

And just like that, the job you took to escape your life became the one thing you couldn’t walk away from.

You didn’t know it then, but that first glance would mark the start of something irreversible. Something that would pull you under, inch by inch, breath by breath.

The moment you saw him, your surroundings blurred into static. The beeping monitors, murmuring technicians, even the weight of your data tablet—all of it fell away.

Inside the isolation tank, a living impossibility drifted in manufactured saltwater. Designed to emulate the hadal zone, the deepest part of the ocean, the containment system glowed softly under rows of harsh overhead lighting. The glass was nearly ten inches thick.

He floated at the bottom, not quite asleep but clearly subdued. His body was serpentine, a long and powerful tail coiled beneath him like an anchor. Its surface shimmered with deep cobalt and streaks of pearlescent silver, every movement creating subtle waves of reflected light. Even now, in apparent stillness, he seemed to shift with the current, his tail flicking faintly like a ribbon suspended in water.

The upper half of his body resembled a human form—broad shoulders, strong arms—but with a sleekness and symmetry that felt engineered rather than natural. It was hard not to stare. Harder still to assign him the term specimen, as though he were just another data point.

His face was unnerving in its beauty. Too elegant. Too calm. Dark purple hair floated around his head, surrounding him like a halo. Thin, branching scars ran near the gills along his neck—signs of struggle? Or surgery? You couldn’t tell. Around his wrists were red rings where restraints had dug in, proof that something here had gone very wrong before it got quiet.

You took one step closer to the glass.

His eyes opened.

Bright blue, slit-pupiled, and utterly alien, they fixed on yours with uncanny stillness. Not vague awareness—recognition. As if you were something known. Something expected.

You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until Dr. Havers spoke behind you.

“Sedated but semi-lucid,” he muttered. “You’ll get used to it.”

You doubted that.

You didn’t look away.

Neither did he.

Your formal role changed within forty-eight hours. A sudden shift, approved without ceremony. You were now responsible for the nocturnal observation cycle—Lab C, 2300 to 0400. Solo rotation. Minimal contact. Maximum discretion.

It wasn’t framed as special. If anything, it felt procedural. But there was an unspoken reason behind it. He responded to you—consistently, uniquely, and visibly. While other personnel were met with either silence or aggression, your presence generated stability. Lowered agitation. Reduced biomarker volatility.

“You’re not a risk variable,” Havers said, handing you a new clearance badge. “He recognizes that. Use it.”

That first night on shift, you sat alone behind the curved monitor console, tank lights dimmed to deep ocean blue. The lab echoed with the soft churn of water filters and the occasional mechanical click of the oxygen injectors. You opened a new file. Began a log.

SESSION 01 2303 HRS — Subject floats near lower quadrant. Motion minimal. Eyes open, tracking. 2317 HRS — Approaches glass at station-facing side. Remains within one meter. 0010 HRS — Mimics observer posture. Arms crossed. Head tilted. Intentional or coincidental?

The entries became more granular with each passing hour. You logged pupil dilation, fin twitching, shoulder alignment. The angle of his fingers against the glass. The way he followed the rhythm of your breathing when you leaned forward. Occasionally, he'd trace your silhouette on the other side of the glass, following your hand movements with uncanny precision.

He blinked less often when watching you, and more when others entered the lab—a strange, deliberate contrast. He began to tap his claws rhythmically against the tank wall when you wrote, a pattern that shifted in tempo depending on your pace. When you stood up, he rose. When you sat, he settled. A mirror, distorted by water and light, but growing clearer by the day.

By your third shift, the notes had started to blur.

SESSION 03 2248 HRS — Subject at station wall prior to entry. Appears to anticipate schedule. 2350 HRS — Subject mirrors tablet tapping. When observer writes, subject responds with claw motions against tank interior. 0104 HRS — Sustained eye contact. Three full minutes. Observer initiated break. Subject remained locked in gaze.

You began categorizing his behaviors under new terms. Not hostile. Not adaptive. Instead: intentional. Self-directed. Curious.

And eventually: fixated.

There was a pattern now, undeniable and precise. Every time you entered the room, he was already waiting. Every time you left, he followed your departure with slow, measured turns around the glass, as though mapping your absence.

Your notes became less technical. More observational. And then, more personal.

You started writing things you didn’t submit to the shared logs. Quiet questions scrawled in the margins of your private notebook.

Why only me? How much does he understand? Is this intelligence, or attention? Or is it something else?

You didn’t know the answers. Not yet.

But you couldn’t stop asking.

You hadn’t planned to speak to him. You weren’t even sure he could comprehend language.

But on the sixth night, everything was too quiet. The hum of the facility, the subdued flicker of the monitors—it all pressed in like static. You were tired. Frustrated. Your head rested on your folded arms, your mind drifting.

“I hate this place,” you muttered.

The water stirred.

Your eyes shot up. He was near the glass. Closer than before. His hands hovered just beneath the surface, claws relaxed. He tilted his head, as if listening.

Then he repeated it.

“I… hate… this… place.”

His voice was strange—raspy, resonant, shaped by a throat unused to speech. But he’d matched your cadence. Your tone. Even the way you’d slurred the words.

You stood.

“You understood that?”

He moved his mouth again. Slower. Testing the rhythm of speech.

“You… are… different.”

The room felt suddenly warmer. Or maybe colder.

Maybe both.

From that night on, your interactions became more complex.

Every time you entered, he was already waiting. You’d sit. He’d drift toward the glass, his body weaving gently behind him, as if pulled by invisible threads.

He began to mimic you in increasingly specific ways. When you tapped on your tablet, he tapped the tank wall. When you shifted in your seat, he mirrored the motion, down to the tilt of your head.

Researchers noticed. They logged it as proof of successful imprinting.

But you knew the difference between mimicry and obsession.

There was an intensity in his gaze that couldn't be dismissed. It was full of purpose. Of attention. He was learning you—not just your behaviors, but your moods. Your microexpressions. He watched your fingers when they trembled. He watched your lips when you breathed.

You tried to maintain boundaries.

But then the dreams started.

The dreams began as fragments.

At first, they were flashes—flashes of cold, of water creeping into your lungs, of sound that wasn’t quite voice but still carried meaning. Pressure without pain. Depth without fear.

Then they became immersive.

You were no longer watching from behind glass. You were inside the tank—or somewhere like it. A vast ocean with no surface and no floor. Everything shimmered in gradients of blue and black, lit by pulses of distant light. You were floating, suspended, and something was circling you.

You felt it before you saw him.

His presence. Electric. Intentional. Like gravity made flesh.

In the dream, Rafayel didn’t speak with words. He moved closer with the slowness of a creature that knew time was irrelevant. His fingers brushed your shoulder, your wrist, your waist—not with heat but with a chill so profound it burned.

You were never afraid.

Sometimes he held you. Other times, he watched you from below, his eyes glowing brighter than the deep. Always silent. Always there.

And always, just before waking, he would place his hand against your chest and say:

You belong here.

You’d wake gasping. Covered in sweat. The room dry, your lungs aching with the ghost of imagined water. And you’d feel it: a residual pulse. As if part of you hadn’t returned.

It was nearly 3:00 a.m. when the emergency alarms shattered the stillness.

You were off-shift. Sleeping. Or trying to. The facility-issued cot in your quarters was thin, the recycled air too dry. But exhaustion didn’t matter—because when the klaxon blared and the lights above your bed pulsed red, your heart dropped into your stomach.

Containment breach — Lab C.

You didn’t stop to think. You didn’t change. You threw on your coat over your sleep shirt and sprinted barefoot through the corridors, barely registering the startled faces of guards and technicians scrambling toward lockdown protocols.

When you reached the lab, the glass was already webbed with cracks.

Inside, the tank churned like a storm-tossed sea. Rafayel was in full fury—no longer the silent, observant being from your shifts. He was something else now. Magnificent and terrifying. His tail whipped with bone-cracking force, slamming the reinforced walls, again and again. The steel supports groaned. Water frothed with foam and light. Machinery sparked along the edges. A lab tech screamed as a panel exploded.

Two guards aimed stun-rods at the tank. “We have to subdue him—!”

“No—!” You pushed past them, breathless. “Let me try first!”

They hesitated—just long enough.

You stepped into the observation chamber, doors sealing behind you. A protective barrier of glass separated you from the tank, but it felt far too thin. Rafayel turned—spun mid-air like a coil of silk and muscle—and slammed his claws into the tank wall right in front of you.

You didn’t flinch.

You raised your hand. Slowly. Palms open.

“Rafayel,” you said softly, almost whispering, “Stop.”

His body stilled, suspended in violent motion.

The roar of the alarms, the hum of the oxygen pumps, even the buzz of the failed lighting—all of it faded into the background.

His breath came in sharp, rapid bursts. His eyes glowed like deep-sea lanterns. He hovered there, inches from the glass, claws still pressed hard enough to screech against it. But he wasn’t attacking now. He was… watching.

You stepped closer, until you were nearly touching the tank wall. Your hand hovered where his claws had struck just moments before.

“It’s me,” you said.

He blinked.

Then, without a sound, he floated backward. A slow, deliberate motion. One hand slid down the tank’s interior, leaving a trail of pale bioluminescence behind it. His tail coiled gently beneath him. The water settled. Foam dissipated. The light in his eyes dimmed—not dulled, just… quieter.

And then, unbelievably, he pressed his forehead to the glass.

Directly across from yours.

The room held its breath.

He closed his eyes.

You mirrored him.

The silence stretched.

Behind you, through the speaker system, you barely caught Dr. Havers’ voice: “Subject de-escalated. Immediate threat withdrawn.”

The guards didn’t speak. They didn’t move. No one did.

Because they saw what you saw.

He hadn’t calmed because of sedatives. Or fear.

He had calmed because of you.

And something in your chest cracked—splintered under the weight of a realization you weren’t ready for.

Whatever Rafayel was…

He wasn’t just watching you.

He needed you.

After the incident, you were called in for multiple evaluations. The staff expressed concern. His reactions were too focused. Too specific.

“Forming a fixation,” they said. “You’re a variable he’s centering around. It might become dangerous.”

But you didn’t feel afraid.

Each night, he was waiting. Sometimes he pressed his hand to the glass, palm to palm. Sometimes he mirrored your face until it felt like looking into a distorted reflection.

You broke protocol.

“Why me?” you asked him softly.

He moved close.

“You… are mine.”

Your heart thudded. You stood frozen.

“You don’t know me.”

He smiled, faint but assured.

“I remember you.”

You shook your head.

“That’s impossible.”

He only repeated, quietly: “You were always coming here.”

You stopped sleeping.

Each night, your dreams blended into your shifts. You began bringing small things into the lab. A book. A ring. A scarf. He noticed all of them. Watched each object with careful interest.

One night, you left a pen on the console.

When you returned the next night, it was inside the tank—placed delicately in a shrine of coral, shells, and scavenged materials. A gift.

You didn’t say anything.

But your chest ached with something unnamed.

And he knew.

The lab was quiet when you arrived, as it always was during your late shifts. But tonight, something felt heavier in the air. As you keyed into the monitoring station, you sensed him waiting.

He was already pressed to the glass, body still, eyes glowing faintly in the dim blue light. His gaze locked on you the instant you stepped into the room. You hadn’t even set your tablet down before he moved—slowly, fluidly—closer, so close that his breath fogged the glass.

Your heart pounded.

You didn’t need to say anything. He already knew you were listening.

“Free me,” he said.

The words were clear. Measured. Spoken not as a plea, but as a promise.

You stared at him, your throat tightening. “I can’t.”

He didn’t move away. He simply watched you, eyes scanning your face like he could read what you didn’t say.

“You don’t belong here either,” he murmured, voice soft and steady. “Not with them.”

He pressed a hand to the glass, and instinctively, without thinking, you lifted yours. His fingers aligned with yours, claws brushing the barrier.

“They see a cage,” he whispered. “You see me.”

The words didn’t sound rehearsed. They sounded like something he’d been waiting to say for a long time.

You swallowed hard. “If I open that tank, they’ll—”

He tilted his head, interrupting gently. “They fear what they cannot hold.”

You felt the heat of your own breath fog the glass. Your hand stayed pressed to his.

“Take it away,” Rafayel whispered. “Let me show you what you already know.”

The glass vibrated faintly under your palm. Not from his strength. From something else. Something deeper. A resonance that pulsed in your bones.

Outside the tank, you were still an employee, a researcher, a name on a schedule.

Inside the tank, he was waiting.

And in that moment, the glass no longer felt like protection.

It felt like a wall you weren’t sure you wanted to keep.

[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.”

[luvxkdrama]

— reflections

pairing : frontman x reader

warnings : mentions of blood, guns, manipulation, toxic love

word count : 2.6k

summary : "We're like a mirror, reflecting the same truth from opposite sides."

—

Y/N adjusted her pink jumpsuit and mask, her heart pounding against her ribcage. She hated everything about this place: the screams, the games, the stench of blood that clung to every surface. She hated being part of this macabre machine, but she didn’t have a choice. Or at least, that’s what she tried to justify herself with.

A year ago, when she first arrived and realised what was actually happening, she had vowed to find a way to end it all. Once she was back home, she worked silently, methodically not sharing her plans to anyone, besides one person.

Hwang Inho.

She met him after the first game as he was a pink guard as well and as much as y/n didn’t trust him at first due to his cold facade, he actually turned out to have the same ideas as her. He was different from the other pink guards y/n has met, he was quieter, observant. Unlike the others, who reveled in their power over the players or fell into obedient silence, he had a sharp wit that he wielded sparingly but effectively. He always seemed to sense when Y/N needed a quick distraction during tense moments.

And so, after they got out of the game, they worked side by side often, and she eventually found herself drawn to the rare moments when they spoke about things unrelated to the game. Cozy nights, wrapped in blankets and talking as if there was no tomorrow.

Y/N tried to stay focused on her mission and not let her mind wander anywhere else but with the time passing by, the moments spent together became significantly more important to her.

Things shifted when one particular night instead of going home, Inho suggested y/n to sleepover at his house as it was pouring rain and the roads were dangerously blurry. One thing led to another and eventually y/n found herself laying her head on his bare chest, feeling safer than ever.

“What are you planning to do once you take down the organisation?” He asked while gently running his fingers across her hair.

Y/N thought for a moment and smiled “I don’t know,” she finally answered “My main focus for now is succeeding this mission and the rest… we’ll see I guess.”

Inho chuckled and didn’t push further, understanding her answer. He then put his left hand on her cheek and slowly raised her head to plant a soft kiss on her lips, smiling into the kiss.

A year passed by quickly and it was time to return there again. Y/N felt ready, she knew what to do and when, especially after Inho somehow managed to find a sketch of the whole building where the games take place. Y/N did know that it was extremely odd to find such a thing out of blue, but knowing how helpful it was, she didn’t try to question it and simply let it slide, trusting him and being too immersed in succeeding her plan.

Before she knew, she was back, on her way to the first game, blending in as just another nameless guard in the sea of faceless pink uniforms.

Finally, the day came. It was the night after the third game when no one would expect anything as security was always on the highest alert after the first game.

Y/N was the one in motion while Inho was explaining the way she will have to make in order to get to the private lounge area. She managed to infiltrate the control room, her pulse pounding as she neutralized the guards stationed there. The room smelled of stale coffee and sweat, monitors flickering with live feeds of every horrifying corner of the facility.

She took a deep breath, her resolve hardening. She had made it this far—there was no turning back now.

After shutting down the security systems and eliminating anyone in her way, Y/N pushed through a heavy door into a private lounge area. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a massive screen casting shadows over the elegant furniture. Her breath hitched as her eyes landed on a figure sitting on a leather sofa, his back to her.

Her hand tightened around the gun she held. “Don’t move.”

The man didn’t flinch. He tilted his head slightly, as if amused. “You made it quicker than I expected.” His voice was low and computerized due to the black mask.

Y/N quickly grabbed her walkie talkie and told Inho she managed to make it to the private lounge. However, even after waiting for a few more seconds, she didn’t get a reply. She tried once again but to no avail. She started to get nervous as to why he wasn't responding.

Her grip on the gun wavered slightly and she cursed, deciding to take matters in her own hands for now “Turn around. Slowly.”

He raised the whiskey to his lips, taking a sip before setting the glass down on the table. Then, with deliberate slowness, he stood and turned to face her, the black mask looking right at her. 

Y/N tried to reach out to Inho once again when suddenly the frontman took out something from his pocket. It was the walkie talkie y/n had given Inho. She froze, fearing the frontman somehow managed to capture Inho while she was busy fighting the soldiers.

"Where did you get this ?" She gulped, taking a few steps closer to him, pointing the gun right at his chest “If you hurt him I swear-”

A low chuckle echoed across the room, y/n looked at the frontman who shook his head before raising his hands to take off the mask.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat and her heart dropped.

It was him. Hwang Inho.

In an instant, it felt like all the walls around her started to suffocate her and that the room progressively got smaller. Her brain couldn’t process what she was seeing. The man she had spent so much time with, the one who made her feel understood and the one who showed her what love felt like, was standing in front of her in a black coat with the black mask in his hand—the unmistakable mask of the Front Man.

“You—” she started, her voice cracking.

“Yes,” he said simply, his voice colder now, void of the warmth she had grown accustomed to.

Y/N’s mind raced, piecing everything together. All the times he had been quiet, watching, listening. The way he seemed to know more than he let on. She felt like the ground had been ripped out from under her.

“Why?” she demanded, her voice trembling.

“Why what?” he asked, stepping closer. “Why did I let you get this far? Or why am I standing here instead of stopping you?”

“Don’t,” she said sharply, raising the gun higher. “Don’t come any closer.”

The frontman—no, Inho—stopped, his hands raised in mock surrender. “If I wanted to stop you, Y/N, you’d already be dead. You know that.”

Her finger hovered over the trigger, her entire body shaking. “You knew. This whole time, you knew what I was doing. You were even helping me.”

"Helping is a big word. I’d rather say I was agreeing with your ideas and eventually giving you some clues from time to time.”

Her breath hitched. “What was your goal?”

He shrugged, his gaze unreadable. “I wanted to see how far you’d go. And now, here we are. I never doubted you though, I knew we'd meet here as I saw the ambition and determination in your eyes.”

For a long moment, they stood in silence, the weight of the truth settling between them. She hated him. She hated the games, the cruelty, the manipulation.

“I trusted you,” she whispered, lowering the gun slightly.

He stepped closer, this time without resistance. “And maybe you still can.”

Y/N’s heart pounded as he stopped just inches away, “What are you talking about?”

“Finish what you started,” he said simply, his voice low. “Shut it all down.”

Y/N stood frozen, her pulse roaring in her ears as his words settled over her like a suffocating fog. Her whole purpose for being here—to dismantle the games, to destroy everything he had built—now felt like a fragile construct teetering on the edge of collapse. And yet, she couldn’t deny the pull of his words, the horrible, awful logic they carried.

“You’re insane, Inho.” she whispered finally, her voice raw.

Hwang Inho didn’t flinch, didn’t react to her insult. “Maybe,” he said softly. “But if I’m insane then what does that make you?” He asked suddenly “You’ve killed for your cause, Y/N. You killed dozens of guards to get here. And now, here you are—standing in front of me with a gun, and yet you can’t pull the trigger. Why?”

The silence between them stretched, thick and heavy, until Y/N couldn’t take it anymore. “You’re trying to twist this,” she spat, her voice rising. “Trying to manipulate me into thinking we’re the same so I won’t stop you.”

His gaze followed her, steady and unflinching. “I don’t need to manipulate you, Y/N. You’ve already proven my point. You killed those guards to get here. You knew the risks, and you accepted them. You’re not here because you’re better than me. You’re here because you’re willing to do whatever it takes—just like I am.”

"I don't kill those people, Y/N," he continued, referring to the players “I don't force them to come here, I give them a choice. Moreover, after each game they have the choice to stay or continue. They kill the other players to survive and get more money, not me. People are so greedy for money that it makes them blind. They loose the privilege of being called human, they reveal their true nature — monsters.”

She whirled on him, her chest heaving. “Not everyone comes here by choice, some just don't have any other way. So you're wrong Inho-”

He approached her slowly, towering over her now, his presence overwhelming in the small space. “Tell me Y/N, what do you think will happen if you kill me ?” he asked, his voice cold but not unkind. “The people who run this—the VIPs—they’ll just start again somewhere else. Somewhere you can’t reach them. Do you really think killing me will end this? I'm a just a puppet who accepted the harsh reality of this world, Y/N.”

Her throat tightened, the weight of his words pressing down on her. She wanted to scream that he was wrong, that there was a way to stop it all. But she didn’t have an answer.

“Exactly,” he whispered, as if reading her thoughts. “You think you can destroy this, but all you’ll do is burn yourself out trying. And in the meantime, people will keep dying.”

“So what?” she shot back, her voice trembling. “You’re saying I should join you? Help you keep this nightmare alive?”

He didn’t answer right away. Finally, his voice softened as he said, “I’m saying you need to decide what matters more—your principles, or your survival.”

She stared at him, her heart pounding. “I’d rather die than become like you.”

A faint smile flickered across his lips, “That’s what they all say.”

Before she could respond, the door behind her suddenly opened, and two guards stepped inside. Y/N’s stomach clenched, her body tensing and she immediately raised her gun at them, turning her back to Inho who didn’t even flinch. 

"Don’t you get it Y/N ? We're like a mirror, reflecting the same truth from opposite sides." He gently put his hands on both of her arms, stepping behind her and looking at her side profile.

Y/N’s grip on the gun tightened, her breath catching. She shook her head sharply, the anger rising in her chest. “No,” she spat, her voice bitter. “You’re not me. You’re a killer. And I don’t care what you say—you’re not going to twist this into something else.”

His smile barely flickered. “Funny. I thought you would understand. The line between right and wrong is thin, Y/N. You kill for your cause, I kill for mine. But in the end, it’s the same thing, isn’t it?”

Y/N’s heart pounded in her ears, the room spinning for a second. It was true—too true. But she wouldn’t let him win. She couldn’t let herself be like him.

“No,” she repeated, her voice quieter but full of conviction. She took a step back, turning back to look at him, his hands brushing over her sides before leaving her body completely. The weight of the gun in her hand heavy.

This wasn’t what she signed up for, wasn’t what she had worked so hard for. But standing there, facing him, she realized just how dangerous his words were, how much of what he said hit too close to home.

Y/N stood in the doorway, gun still heavy in her hand, her heart beating erratically in her chest. She suddenly raised her gun and pointed it directly at his heart, her finger twitching over the trigger. She had made her choice—at least, that’s what she had thought. The mission. The goal. It all led to this moment. One pull and it would be over. But now, standing in front of him, the room filled with the echoes of her hesitation, the lines between right and wrong blurred in a way she couldn’t ignore anymore.

She had been ready to walk away, ready to follow through, to do what she believed was right. But something inside her faltered, her resolve cracking like ice under pressure. He had been right about one thing—their reflection was too similar. She had spent so much of her life believing that she was the opposite of him, but with every step closer she took toward him, it felt more like she was staring into a mirror she had spent so long trying to avoid.

He stepped closer, his eyes never leaving hers, his gaze steady but somehow understanding. “You don’t have to fight it anymore, Y/N. We’re the same. We both do what we believe is necessary. You can either leave, and I will make sure to get you home safely, or you can stay with me and accept the world is a cruel place that can’t be saved.”

Her chest tightened, and despite her efforts to resist, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from him. There was something in his presence—something that made her feel understood in a way no one else ever had. She hated that it was him, hated that it was this—but she couldn’t deny the pull, the connection, the understanding that went beyond their roles in this twisted game.

For a moment, everything seemed to pause. Her breath, his movements, the weight of the gun—everything hung in the balance.

She lowered the weapon, her hands shaking as she realized the truth. She couldn’t walk away from him—not completely. She had tried, had convinced herself that she was different, that she was better, but deep down, she knew they were too alike. Too broken. Too far gone.

“I don’t want to be like you,” she whispered, more to herself than him, but it didn’t matter anymore.

“You already are,” he replied softly, but there was no malice in his words—only something darker, something that felt like acceptance.

And in that moment, something shifted inside her. She couldn’t fight it anymore. She couldn’t deny it anymore. Her feelings for him, no matter how twisted or complicated, were real. And maybe—just maybe—there was no escaping this dark connection they shared.

She looked up at him. She wasn’t sure if it was love or something darker that pulled her closer, but when she stood in front of him, their eyes locking, she knew one thing for certain: she wasn’t walking away. She couldn't.

“Stay” he said, his voice barely a whisper, but it held an undeniable weight.

He slowly leaned in and his lips met hers. Y/N didn't move away. She couldn't. She felt interlocked to him in a way she never did with anyone. She left the salty taste of her own tears during the kiss, feeling her heart betraying her own mind.

For a long moment, they stood in silence, looking at each other, two sides of the same broken coin, too entwined to walk away from each other.

The world outside didn’t matter. The game didn’t matter. In that room, at that moment, it was just the two of them. Together. Alike.

[residentwordsofaffirmationdealer]

tracking barbara gordon's skillset as oracle:

she provides directory assistance for several international and intergalactic teams of superheroes (the birds of prey, justice league of america, the outsiders, and she has worked with the titans before).

she is the primary hacker and information network source for many of these heroes.

she helps provide mercy ops (disaster relief and humanitarian efforts) globally.

she is able to hack into the white house cameras.

she hacks into the united states air force routinely to use their memory capabilities.

she is seen as a pentagon level threat.

she writes her own code for scanning new satellite images for human habitations and anomalies.

she's accessed air force rockets no one is supposed to know about and overridden them to fire them.

she has a team of drones ready for surveillance.

she's put her own security systems on arkham asylum.

she hacks into information databases from federal complexes and assembles blueprints and guard schedules so she can send her agents to break into them.

she sets a government complex on fire (she says it is a small and contained fire.)

she also sets the clock tower on fire to force batman to not do murder/suicide.

she hacks into cia debriefing transcripts to obtain information.

she controls a large portion of the world's internet and power grids.

she also is the reason why many world leaders are in power.

she has access to the bank accounts of several supervillains, whom she toys with (specifically for blockbuster, she regularly steals millions of dollars from his accounts in a way that he cannot track who is stealing it and where it is going -- she's stolen 3 million, 17 million, 6 million, twenty million and also a hundred million from him).

she can also hack alien drones.

she can control traffic.

she has several booby-traps in the clock tower for potential assaulters. she also a device to monitor movement of people around it, in case batman decides to show up.

cited panels down below!

"she's the four-one-one for the jla, she the database for the g.c. ex-p.d. she runs mercy ops around the world." nightwing (1996) #38

"you have cameras in the white house?" "don't be silly. the white house has cameras in the white house. i've just tapped into them." nightwing (1996) #66

"i mean, someone hacks into our system and routinely uses our [united states air force] memory capabilities!" "i know!" "often." birds of prey #1 (1999)

"i run a database and search engine for a select few free-land crimefighters." birds of prey: manhunt (1996)

"we scan the most recent images for anomalies. things that don't belong." "where'd you get a program for that?" "i wrote my own code for that one." birds of prey (1999) #3

"they've accessed whitehorse, sir." "whitehorse? no one's supposed to know about that!" birds of prey (1999) #9

"and oracle? we're going to need eyes on several places at once." "i think we can manage that." detective comics (1937) #1077

"they've accessed whitehorse. what's the chance of them arming it?" "all clear?" "oh yeah." "fire!" birds of prey (1999) #9

"[arkham's] security is good, but piecemeal. i installed my own system there after the last breakout." infinite crisis special: villains united (2006)

"batgirl -- that incident a couple months back? when those government agents caught your face on tape? i found out where they're keeping it. it's a federal complex in virginia. i've sent you blueprints, guard schedules -- everything you'll need to break in." batgirl (2000) #17

"where did you get that kind of information?" "they traded another prisoner last month. i hacked into his cia debriefing transcript." birds of prey (1999) #9

"kat, do you have any idea... any notion at all, of how much of the planet's entire internet i control? how many power grids? how many world leaders owe me their positions?" birds of prey #1 (1999)

"i transferred all the funds in her cayman islands account to another offshore account. if she doesn't get the paintings to me in the next forty-eight hours, that money's going to my favorite charities." birds of prey: catwoman/oracle (2003)

"where do you get current [satellite] shots of rheelasia?" "that's my secret, you little netnik." birds of prey (1999) #3

"but the asborbascons were created using languages long dead even on my planet. they are uncrackable." "yes. the absorbascons are uncrackable. but the alien drones aren't." convergence: nightwing/oracle (2015)

"do you have that kind of cash?" "no. but i know someone who does." "there's been a... discrepancy, mr. desmond." "in plain english, mr. vogel." "at one point, three million was electronically transferred from your numbered accounts in the caicos to a bank account in hasaragua. from there to karocco, then yemen, then split between banks in senegal and manila. and then... my hardware couldn't keep up." birds of prey (1999) #3

"seventeen million from your account in the caymans. six from santa prisca. twenty from rheelasia. and a hundred million plus from other holdings of yours around the world, mr. desmond. and where it all goes? nobody knows." birds of prey (1999) #18

"they're taking your cash from impregnable accounts and transferring it electronically to their own." "and you can't find the source?" "there's subsequent transfers performed at lightning speed. the money's split up, rerouted in and out of various banks in an eyeblink. even i can't keep up with whoever this is." birds of prey (1999) #18

"let me handle the traffic." birds of prey (1999) #58

"all of you. keep your hands where i can see 'em." "not a problem. malory. ripken. peppermint." nightwing (1996) #39

[orellazalonia]

Unexpected Outlook

Summary: The Avengers launch a mission to raid a known base of the organization you now work with and discuss over what they found.

Word Count: 1.7k+

A/N: A little shorter since it’s Father’s Day, but I also wanted to add more weight to the previous chapter and progress the story.

Main Masterlist | The One You Don’t See Masterlist

Preparations moved fast. Too fast, maybe.

Steve didn’t like that they were running with incomplete information, but the longer they waited, the deeper this organization could dig itself into global systems. And the more time you had to assist them, whether willingly or not.

Still, it didn’t sit right. None of it did.

Bruce pulled the files. Natasha studied known locations. Sam monitored chatter. Bucky cleaned his weapons with a look in his eyes like he wanted answers he didn’t have the right to ask.

Yet no one brought up your name again. At least, not directly. But it hovered beneath everything.

The way Bucky checked each plan twice. The way Natasha’s jaw twitched when she reviewed footage. Even the way Steve hesitated before calling it an official mission.

The woman Bucky liked didn’t voice objections anymore. She simply kept a kind, quiet distance, like someone watching friends argue over a lost cause.

And within a week, the op was set.

Steve gave the greenlight with his jaw tight and eyes harder than usual. The mission was clear: infiltrate a suspected communications hub. A nondescript, rural compound masked as a grain storage facility. Satellite data showed encrypted signals routing through it over the last month, signals that matched ones the Avengers used internally.

Which meant either someone was watching. Or someone had been taught how.

They went in with a small team. Just Steve, Sam, Natasha, and Bucky. No need for Hulk or Thor; this wasn’t a battering ram job. It was a retrieval and disrupt operation. Quiet and clean.

Or so they thought.

The quinjet landed half a mile out, under cover of dense fog rolling over the hills. The forest beyond the compound was eerily still like it had been holding its breath since before dawn.

“They want us to find this,” Natasha muttered, brushing a branch aside as they crept through the trees.

Steve didn’t argue. His shield was strapped to his arm, but he hadn’t raised it once.

They reached the clearing. The compound was just as expected. Gray concrete, flat roof, minimal security fencing, and a gravel path leading to two entrances. No guards. No movement. Even the air felt… hollow.

Sam scanned the building with a handheld sensor. “No heat signatures. Not even a rat.”

“Too clean,” Bucky said, voice low.

They breached the back door.

Inside, it was dark but not ruined. Every surface was wiped. Consoles powered down. Not destroyed, removed. Carefully like a move-out rather than an attack. Upon investigating further, files had been cleared, drawers emptied, and chairs pushed in with bland desks.

Whoever had been here knew exactly when to leave.

Steve turned in a slow circle, taking it in.

“This was active,” He said. “Days ago.”

“Hours, maybe,” Natasha said, crouching beside a desk. She tapped the edge, there was a faint spot where something electronic had been sitting. Someone had worked here… and then vanished.

Sam stepped into the central control room. There was only one thing left behind: a monitor left switched on, flickering a soft blue light in the dimness.

A single message scrolled across the screen.

Too late, Captain.

That was it. There wasn’t any long monologues. No other mocking comments. Not even a signature or sign-off present. Just a cold fact. Steve stared at it like he could will it to change. Bucky stood a step behind him, arms folded, expression unreadable.

“I don’t like this,” Sam muttered.

Natasha approached a wall panel and pried it open effortlessly. Inside, wires had been sliced. Intentionally. However, there were no explosives. No traps could be seen anywhere either. It was all just… closure.

“They stripped this place surgically,” She said. “No fingerprints, no traces. It’s like they wanted us to know they were here… but not who they are.”

Steve closed the monitor with a clenched jaw. “This wasn’t a base. It was a decoy.”

“No,” Bucky said suddenly. His voice was soft but steady. “It was a base. It just outlived its usefulness.”

They all turned toward him. He looked at the empty room, the missing equipment, and the quiet hallways. Then, to the message. And for a moment, something shifted in his eyes. Guilt, maybe or something deeper.

“They planned for this,” He murmured. “Someone told them exactly how we’d come.”

No one responded, but no one needed to. Because they were all thinking it.

-

The debrief room was thick with a heavy silence, the kind that pressed down harder than shouting. Ghost-blue blueprints and photos of the abandoned compound still flickered on the monitors, reminders of how quickly their plan had unraveled. Notes about the missing equipment and the chilling message on the screen scrolled slowly, marking everything they should have anticipated.

Steve hadn’t sat once since they returned. He stood rigid at the head of the table, hands braced on his hips, and a deep furrow like it was etched there permanently. Sam had stopped pacing but his leg bounced nervously, jaw clenched tight. Natasha’s fingers tapped against her thigh in a rhythm so steady it barely seemed voluntary.

Only Bucky remained perfectly still, arms crossed, and eyes locked on the screen across the room. He said very little since they’d left the empty compound since that message haunted him.

Too late, Captain.

The words weren’t just text; they carried a weight, a deliberate coldness that dug into Bucky’s mind. Whoever had left it knew him. Not just the soldier, but his moves, his instincts. And worse, their enemy had used the knowledge you once held to outmaneuver them.

The memory played on loop in his mind. Not just the words but the feel of them. The calculation in them. Whoever was behind that terminal… knew him. Not just facts. His patterns.

And maybe worse than that, they’d used your knowledge to do it. They probably used you to do it.

The door hissed open.

She stepped in with her usual soft elegance, cradling a fresh cup of tea between her hands like she had no idea anything had gone wrong. Dressed casual, warm, and comfortable. Like she belonged. Like she didn’t feel the same tension that pulled everyone else taut. The one you used to be jealous of had sat out for the mission after all.

“Oh,” She said lightly. “You’re all back already.”

Her tone wasn’t mocking. If anything, it was gently surprised, as if she’d simply walked into a meeting that ended early. Steve didn’t answer right away. Neither did the others.

She blinked, smile sweet and expectant, like someone unaware they were intruding. “Was it a short mission?”

“We were too late,” Steve said flatly, straightening.

Her brows lifted, and she crossed to the table, setting the tea down. “Really? That’s unfortunate. I thought it was just one of those cleanup things. You all make those look so easy.”

Sam looked over, jaw tight. “They cleaned up, alright. Took every last trace of themselves. Left us a polite message, too.”

“They knew how we’d approach,” Natasha added with her arms crossed now. “Like they knew our pattern. Our flow. They stripped the place within hours of our arrival window.”

“Hmm.” She tapped a fingernail against the ceramic. “That’s strange. Maybe they had inside intel?”

“No,” Steve spoke, narrowing his eyes. “Not unless someone studied us long before they left.”

“Oh.” She blinked, tilting her head. “So… do you think your old administrator friend told them?”

Bucky stiffened.

Natasha’s voice was sharper now, eyes narrowing. “She’s not our anything.”

That seemed to amuse her. She let out a light laugh, the kind meant to dissolve tension, not that anyone was asking for it. “Well, you’re not wrong,” She smiled. “ She didn’t really fit in here anyways, did she?”

Bruce, who had been mostly quiet, looked up sharply. “She worked here for over two years.”

She didn’t seem phased. There was no malice on her face actually. Just soft confidence.

“I guess I didn’t think she’d be important,” She sighed simply. “Kind of kept to herself. I always assumed she’d move on.”

Sam stood, voice tight. “She did. Straight into the hands of the people trying to tear us apart.”

Her smile faltered just a touch. “I didn’t mean—look, I’m sure she was… sweet. I just don’t see how it helps to chase after someone who clearly didn’t want to be here. Don’t you think she made her choice?”

Steve’s eyes narrowed. “We don’t know that yet.”

“I mean, sure,” She said gently, “But if she’s really that dangerous, wouldn’t you have noticed before she left? You didn’t even realize she was gone until weeks later, right?”

Bucky shifted slightly. The burn in his chest deepened. Not from her words exactly, but from how true they rang.

They hadn’t noticed. They hadn’t looked.

The woman moved closer to Bucky, noticing his subtle distress as she rested her hand lightly on Bucky’s shoulder.

“I just worry about you,” She confessed softly, smiling up at him. “You’re all stretched so thin already. I’d hate to see you waste energy chasing ghosts.”

Her hand lingered. But Bucky’s jaw clenched, and for once, he didn’t lean into her touch.

“She’s not a ghost,” He muttered. “She’s a mirror. Of everything we missed.”

Her expression flickered for barely a moment. Then the sweet smile returned.

“Well, if you have to go after her,” She brushed her hand away, her expression turning more solemn. A hint of pity evident, “I hope you’re prepared for what you find. Sometimes people change… and not always in ways you can fix. I don’t want you to be hurt.”

She reached for her tea again, her fingers wrapping around the cup like it was an anchor.

“And if you do decide to keep going after her, well.” She gave a gentle little laugh, looking around with open, innocent eyes. “I hope it goes well. I really mean that. And if you need my help at all… just let me know. I’m always happy to support the team.”

The door hissed softly behind her as she walked out, quiet heels tapping against the floor in steady, graceful rhythm.

The rest of the team stood in silence for a few long seconds, each lost in their own storm of thoughts.

Steve broke it first.

“We move forward. We stop that organization before it spreads deeper.”

“And if she’s helping them willingly?” Sam asked, his voice low.

Steve hesitated.

So, Bucky answered instead.

“Then we stop her, too.”

Taglist: @herejustforbuckybarnes @iyskgd @torntaltos @julesandgems @maesmayhem @w-h0re @pookalicious-hq @parkerslivia @whisperingwillowxox @stell404 @wingstoyourdreams @seventeen-x @mahimagi @viktor-enjoyer @vicmc624 @msbyjackal @winchestert101 @greatenthusiasttidalwave

[stealthetrees]

So this is more of an AU of the fandom AU where the Coruscant Guard live in a shitty run down building that’s falling apart. But Commander Fox finds this unacceptable so he clears out a warehouse used for storage and builds a shiny new headquarters. The original building they fix up, but only the lobby, a couple offices, and the med bay so troopers on senate duty can stay there due to its proximity to the senate building. Their new building they can go nuts with, adding all sorts of stuff that they arnt allowed to have.

An entire room is filled with tv monitors so they can slice into security cameras around the planet and see everything. They get a nice rec room, an area for the engineers to play around with ideas, even an office for the medics to make you talk about your feelings. A server room is dedicated solely to storing and orgonizing blackmail collected on pretty much everyone worth mentioning on Coruscant.

But after one secret building, what’s another? Areas of strategic importance are carefully chosen and a new headquarters is established nearby. They are each given code names. The original building is still Headquarters, the new main building is the Barracks. The Office is where they run intelligence and investigations from. IT Department is next to the industrial district. The Kennals are much lower than some of their other buildings, a small station set up to monitor the rancor infestation (Thorn moves down there to become a cowboy after he “dies” on Scipio). The Lobby is set in the lower civilian levels as a way to help the people who arnt rich enough to bribe politicians into getting what they want. The Med Bay started as just somewhere for big surgeries, physical therapy and prosthetics, but which the “generous donations” they acquire it grows into a hospital for civilians as well, completely free, and they start hiring nat born doctors, surgeons and nurses while paying them well and proving a great work environment. Adding a therapist office helped a lot of troopers as well.

The system takes a long time to build and works perfectly. Until Fox figures out Palpatine is a Sith. It’s not actually world shattering news, but it does give him a panic attack after realizing Palpatine though Fox already knew, because he had threatened the chancellor with a slug thrower instead of a blaster. Through questions to his batch mates with Jedi generals he learns that Sith can influence people’s minds and decides that in order for the clone rights bill to pass Palpatine needs to die.

And die he does. The rest of the conservative senators are swayed by a mix of blackmail, bribes, and bomb threats. The bill does pass, and most of them are instantly arrested for sentient rights violations, assault, and various other crimes because government property can’t serve as a witness in a civilian court of law.

The timing of all this could not be worse, as two of Fox’s batch mates where on planet, Cody and Wolffe, and they loved to stick their noses in his business. Which means when a lot of Corries are injured in the fight with the senate guards and private security while trying to make arrests, Cody and Wolffe help get them back to Headquarters, because it’s much closer than the Barracks. But Headquarters has a very small med bay because so few troopers use it. So they are over crowded and run out of bacta.

Also Cody gets turned around in the hallway and discovers how bad the rest of the building is. So Fox has a choice to make. He grabs Cody and Wolffe and drags them outside and back to the GAR barracks while texting Thire and telling him he has an hour and a half to make Headquarters look lived in. Then Fox opens a one way comm line with every Corrie so they can keep the story straight as he answers his brothers questions.

Fox commits to the bit so hard they believe the Guard is suffering horribly from abuse and budget cuts while in reality they just steal money from what ever rich person they have the freshest blackmail from. He could just tell them all the illegal things he’s been up to, but Fox would rather die than tell someone more than they needed to know.

[pascalissmoked]

Hello, I am wondering if u take request for a Tony Stark x female reader, who is also best friend of Tony Stark before he came Iron Man but she has been by his side through everything as well. But it’s a fluff one shot as at the end where they both reveal their feelings for each other which they had from the moment they met and they have their first kiss between them as well.

Ofcoursee, here it is! Hope you like it :)

Virtual Insanity

Summary: In which the infamous line "make love not war" isn't well-respected by this pair of friends. When cyberbullying at Stark industries level develops into a game between these two collegues and friends, something more begins to unravel between the two.

Word Count: 1.7K Warnings: none except Tony's unsufferable ego (all jokes)

A/N: This is a short oneshot. Might turn into more. I'm also still working on the "Soft in the right hands" series for bucky so stay tuned!

You’d known Tony Stark long enough to remember when he didn’t wear the suit — physically or emotionally.

Back then, he was all sharp smiles and sharper intellect, more interested in building arc reactors with cocktail napkin schematics than charming investors. Reckless with nearly everything except the way he treated you. Somehow, against all odds, you’d slipped past the velvet rope that guarded the real him — the sleepless inventor who showed up on your fire escape at 3AM with a bottle of Scotch and a theory about thermal diffusion that couldn’t wait till morning.

You were best friends before Afghanistan. Before Iron Man. Before Stark Tower had its own AI department and a floor reserved just for “Tony’s regrets, part I through XXV.”

And none of that stopped him from hacking your firewall during lunch.

You were approximately three minutes into a well-deserved lunch break — grilled cheese in hand, Spotify playlist on shuffle, and the sanctity of a lab entirely free of explosions — when your firewall went up in flames.

Digitally speaking.

The code on your main monitor began to twitch. Literally twitch. Then twist. And then it smiled at you. A little pixelated smiley face blinked up from the line of code you’d just written, followed by a dancing ASCII cat wearing sunglasses.

“Oh my God,” you muttered, setting your sandwich down like it had betrayed you.

You knew that coding style.

You knew exactly who was responsible.

With the patience of a saint and the energy of someone who was one click away from snapping, you launched into the system’s backend, pulling apart the layers of the digital graffiti with expert ease, unraveling each line of smug Stark-ware. And sure enough, right at the root folder, embedded in a hidden command string, was a line of text:

"Nice firewall, sweetheart. 7/10. Would hack again. - T.S."

Your eye twitched. Your soul twitched.

He didn’t just breach your system. He decorated it. That wasn’t a hack — it was a housewarming party in enemy territory.

The man had billions of dollars, a global tech empire, multiple Iron Man suits, and — apparently — nothing better to do than hack into your secure files during his downtime like a caffeinated raccoon with a superiority complex.

You were going to kill him. Slowly. Or worse — give him a lecture so long and boring it could be classified as psychological warfare.

And thus, the war began.

With your jaw clenched and your heart pounding in that very specific, very annoying way it only ever did around Tony, you stormed out of your lab and stomped down the hallway of Stark Tower.

You bypassed three interns and a mildly offended elevator AI before slamming open his door like righteous judgment. Finally, you flung open the doors to his R&D suite without knocking.

Tony didn’t flinch.

Sleeves rolled up, arc reactor glowing, fingers dancing across a holographic interface. He looked up. Grinned.

“Hey, sunshine,” Tony said lazily from behind a table cluttered with open panels, a half-dismantled drone, and at least three coffee cups. “I was just thinking about you."

“You’re a menace.”

“I’ve been called worse.” He finally looked up, dark eyes glinting with amusement. “But usually by people who didn’t bother updating their encryption protocols.”

You crossed your arms. “You hacked into my system during lunch, Stark. That’s below the belt. I was eating grilled cheese.”

“Maybe next time add some brie and fig jam. Class it up a little.” He grinned. “You’re welcome, by the way. I just gave you a free security audit.”

You stared at him, deadpan. “Did your ego eat your moral compass for breakfast?”

He stood, sauntering over like confidence incarnate in a Henley and jeans, and leaned against the edge of the workbench — arms crossed, smirk fully loaded.

“I’d argue my ego is my moral compass. And it always points due north to: mess with you.”

“You hacked my system,” you repeated.

He tilted his head. “If I can break in, so can Hydra. I’m doing you a favor.”

You crossed your arms. “This is the third time this month you've done something like this. Last week, you turned my digital assistant into a sassy version of yourself. I had to argue with my microwave for twenty minutes before it would heat my soup.”

He beamed. “He’s got a personality now! Named him Toasty.”

“I’m going to rewrite your DNA.”

“Only if we cuddle after.”

You were going to scream. Or kiss him. It was a very fine line these days.

“I’m going to kill you,” you said conversationally.

He grinned wider. “You’re going to miss me.”

So instead, you narrowed your eyes and said, “I hope you like Shakespeare just as much as JARVIS does.”

He blinked. “What?”

You pulled your phone from your pocket, already typing."Your little AI pet seems to have brushed up on his Shakespeare, because he’s about to speak exclusively in iambic pentameter for the next twenty-four hours."

“Wait. No—”

“And make all puns food-themed.”

Tony’s jaw dropped. “You’re a monster.”

You shrugged, already walking toward the door. “Some people bake sourdough for fun. I emotionally sabotage billionaire AIs.”

Tony groaned. “JARVIS

, don’t you dare—”

“Verily, sir,” JARVIS chimed in serenely from the overhead speaker, “I find thy attitude rather cheesy, like brie upon a croissant most greasy.”

Tony’s head hit the desk.

You smirked. “Toasty says hi.”

It went on like that for weeks.

Tony retaliated by installing a movement sensor in your lab. Every time you entered, SexyBack blared at full volume. FRIDAY wouldn’t let you disable it. She said it was “legally classified as a morale booster.”.

It was a war.

You replaced his AI’s voice with Gilbert Gottfried reading Twilight.

Tony responded by having your smartwatch shout hourly affirmations about his hair.

You hacked his suit’s startup sequence. Now it greeted him with:

“Iron Man: The Human Hot Pocket. Online.”

It didn’t stop there.

He replaced your screensaver with a live feed of himself winking, finger guns included.

You programmed his coffee maker to scream “INCOMING!” every time it dispensed espresso.

Naturally, collateral damage was inevitable.

Bruce’s tablet was cursed to play Baby Shark whenever opened. He developed a twitch.

Sam’s Falcon gear announced all takeoffs with: “I’m a little teapot, short and stout.”

Steve’s toaster quoted Pride and Prejudice in Cher’s voice.

“It is a truth universally acknowledged,” it belted one morning, “that a single man in possession of breakfast must be in want of jam.”

He punched a wall. You both got fined.

Even Clint, ever the stealthy one, wasn’t spared. Every time he drew an arrow, it whispered “pew pew” in Tony’s voice.

The tower teetered on the brink of chaos.

Pepper threatened to move to Dubai.

It was late.

The Tower was asleep, mostly. Except for Tony, who you found in the R&D lounge, hoodie on, arc reactor glowing soft under worn fabric. He looked… still. A rare moment for a man who moved like his thoughts could outrun time.

“You gonna yell at me for the coffee pot thing?” he asked, not looking up.

“I should,” you said, easing into the seat beside him. “FRIDAY tried to launch a counterstrike when I made a cappuccino.”

“She’s passionate.”

Silence fell. He just stared at you like he was debating something he’d rehearsed a hundred times in his head.

You blinked. “What?”

Tony opened his mouth. Closed it. Then, “Do you want me to stop?”

You frowned. “Stop what?”

“The pranks. The hacking. I mean, I know it’s probably childish and annoying and… I don’t know. Maybe I just like having a reason to see you all worked up, to just see you more.”

You sat back, heart thudding.

“That,” you said slowly, “is the least emotionally articulate confession I’ve ever heard.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, well. I build flying suits, not feelings.”

You stood and walked over, stopping inches from him. His breath hitched, and yours did too.

“For the record,” you said, “I love your flying suits. But I also kind of love… this.”

He blinked. “The chaos?”

“The banter. The sabotage. The way your face lights up when you think you’ve outsmarted me, even though I’m always two steps ahead.”

“Debatable,” he muttered.

You leaned in, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

“And I love the way you look at me like I’m the only firewall you’ve never wanted to break.”

He stilled.

Then: “I’ve been in love with you since the day you fried that Russian botnet and called it ‘a poorly coded insult to my intelligence.’”

You smiled.

And then, you kissed him.

It was messy and hot and gloriously overdue. His hands cupped your face like he’d been dying to do it for years, and your fingers curled into his shirt like gravity had given up and he was your anchor now.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, he whispered, “I should have hacked you sooner.”

You smacked his shoulder. “Shut up and kiss me again.”

He did.

And that night, neither of you changed each other’s passwords.

You called a truce.

Sort of.

Now your prank war has a rulebook and a scoreboard. Nat is the referee. Bruce runs support (begrudgingly). Steve is still in therapy.

JARVIS still speaks in sonnets during thunderstorms. Toasty hosts a podcast. FRIDAY hosts a revenge fund.

A year later, Tony proposed via custom hologram code embedded in your firewall — romantic, glitchy, and absolutely extra.

You said yes.

And now, sometimes, late at night, you’ll find yourselves coding side-by-side, teasing each other like always — except now, there’s no more pretending.

Just love. Loud, messy, sarcastic love. With bad lighting, too much coffee, and more happiness than either of you thought you’d ever deserve.

And every morning, when you walk into the lab, “SexyBack” still plays.

You don’t stop it anymore.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading. Don't hesitate to leave a comment behind <3

[ltash]

"Wicked" Pt-3

SimonGhostRileyxf!"Rose"reader

From her highschool bully to her wicked bodyguard, from Simon to Ghost.

Palm Jumeirah, Dubai - Midnight.

The lights inside the mansion flickered, once-just a glitch, a flutter of voltage-but Rose's pulse skipped all the same. It always did now. The walls felt too close. The air, too quiet. No house this beautiful should feel like a cage, but hers did. Behind its manicured gardens and imported marble, the mansion wasn't a home. It was a gilded prison.

Massimo had made sure of that.

She hadn't been allowed to leave in weeks. Her phone was replaced. Her laptop filtered. The staff now wore polite smiles that never met their eyes. Rose had grown used to surveillance: the cameras hidden in chandeliers, the microphones embedded in vent grilles, the locks that clicked shut when they weren't supposed to.

But she still had one ghost left in the machine.

She padded barefoot into the darkened study, the only room she was never searched in. Inside the antique desk drawer was a tiny circuit board connected to a hidden port-one she'd built herself back when she still had freedom. It looked like a piece of the HVAC system, but under the hood was a different story.

She was about to use her only remaining ally: an old AI security system she had personally installed before her staff were replaced. It's disguised under the house's climate control and lighting apps-Massimo's men never even noticed it.

Late at night, she writes a command.

A hidden SOS, encrypted and buried under code.

She can't name herself, can't give details.

Just:

Her fingers trembled as she typed into the dim screen.

>High-value civilian. Palm Jumeirah. Hostile containment. Request immediate covert extraction.

She uploads it to an old abandoned GitHub repo registered under a pseudonym she once shared with a boy who used to sit at the back of her chemistry class.

Simon Riley.

The message was anonymous. There was no name, no coordinates. Just metadata buried in lines of an old GitHub repository registered under a long-forgotten pseudonym.

A joke. A nickname from school. One she had once shared with a boy who never smiled.

She didn't even know if he was still alive.

She hit send.

And hoped the wind still remembered her name.

Location: Undisclosed SAS Safehouse, Northern England

Simon was SAS now. Special Forces.

Callsign: Ghost.

The alert came through on a cold Thursday night.

He monitors that GitHub repo out of habit. It's nothing but sentiment, a scar he keeps reopening.

He hasn't checked it in years.

Until he does.

Simon Riley sat in the quiet glow of his monitor, the rain painting war patterns against the window behind him. He barely touched the internet. Except for this.

He hadn't checked the repo in years. It was a dead habit, something he did every few months. Nostalgia with no reward.

Until he saw it.

> Last push: 2 hours ago.

Encrypted within the code wasn't just a distress call.

It was her.

Rose.

He didn't breathe for nearly a full minute.

Ghost stood slowly, fingers curling into fists as a cold burn lit up in his chest. He hadn't heard her name since he'd buried it. Since the night he left without a goodbye.

His blood runs cold.

Encrypted in the code is a name he hasn't heard in half a decade:

"Rose."

He goes to his superiors.

The request is unofficial. Shadow ops.

But the words hostile containment and high-value civilian raise flags.

It gets buried under a private bodyguard detail ordered by a powerful British defense ally with silent interest in Massimo's dealings.

No name. No address. Just Palm Jumeirah, high-value civilian, hostile containment.

Enough for an unofficial op.

And the name that gets assigned?

Lieutenant Simon Riley.

His name was the first one on the assignment.

48 Hours Later a black SUV rolled past the iron gates like it belonged there.

Rose stood in her hallway, arms wrapped around herself, watching from behind the curtains.

One man stepped out. Alone.

Massimo's guards stood straighter.

Tall. Broad. Black tactical gear that looked too sharp for Dubai's heat. A skull mask covering his face, balaclava beneath it. His eyes were cold, unreadable. Like winter.

He didn't speak as he passed the guards. Just handed a sealed letter.

Authorization for close protection detail.

One of Massimo's men, it said.

Rose didn't buy it. But she didn't argue.

She stood at the top of the stairs as he entered, heart hammering.

He looked up at her.

And she, she froze.

There was something about him.

Something terrifying and familiar.

"Who are you?" she whispered.

He stopped just a few steps from her, the skull mask gleaming under the crystal chandelier.

"Ghost," he said. Just that.

The name tasted like ash.

Her voice trembled. "You're one of Massimo's men?"

"Something like that," he answered. Low. Controlled. British accent like frostbite.

She swallowed. The fear in her blood was real. She'd seen hitmen. Thugs. Brutes.

But this one was different.

An Alpha among the wolves.

Massive, silent, lethal.

The black cargo pants hugged his powerful thighs like a sculptor's sketch in motion. Every inch of him said: do not cross.

She stepped back as he approached. He didn't follow.

"You don't have to be afraid of me," Ghost said quietly, almost too softly for a man like him.

But she was.

Terrified.

Because deep inside her, something screamed that she knew him.

And that scared her more than anything else.

The mansion was quiet. Too quiet. Not the peace of luxury, but the silence of surveillance, the kind of silence that watches you breathe.

Ghost stood by the edge of the marble balcony, framed by the dim amber of Dubai’s dying sun. The call had come. The assignment given. No backup, no fanfare, just a flight, a briefing, a skull mask, and a destination: Palm Jumeirah.

He hadn’t expected it to be real. The message hidden in the GitHub code had been too poetic to believe. Too her.

But it was real.

Rose was here.

And she was in trouble.

48 Hours Earlier, She had stared at the blinking cursor for what felt like hours.

> "High-value civilian. Palm Jumeirah. Hostile containment. Request immediate covert extraction."

No names. No cry for help. No traceable language.

Just enough to mean something, to the right person.

Rose encrypted the text in base-64, nested it into an update in an abandoned GitHub repository linked to a fake climate control API, something she and Simon had once joked about building back in school. Back when he was still just Simon. Before he disappeared like mist.

She hit commit.

And prayed.

Now...

The skull mask stepped through the threshold like a shadow that had grown legs. Black tactical gear. Gloves. Thick black cargo pants that stretched over thighs built like war machines. Combat boots that echoed like the ticking of an ending.

The guards nodded, not questioning his clearance. Massimo trusted him now. The cover had been placed well.

She was in the living room. Pale as bone, curled up in a silk robe on the ivory settee.

She looked up, and froze.

The skull.

The mask.

The height.

The weight of him was a presence.

“Who are you?” she asked, voice small, breaking.

He stood still.

"Name's Ghost," he said finally, voice deep and northern, cracked like winter pavement. "Massimo brought me in for security. I’m here to watch you."

Her brows creased, fear threading through the delicate angles of her face. “I don’t need another one of his men watching me.”

He tilted his head, slowly.

“No offense, but I’m not one of his men.”

Her throat worked. She stood, slowly. The robe fell just enough to show a bruise. Faint. But there.

His jaw ticked under the mask.

“I don’t trust anyone,” she whispered.

“Good,” he said. “That means you’re not stupid.”

A beat passed. The chandelier hummed above them.

She turned away, but not before he saw the tremble in her hands.

He had to earn her trust. Carefully. Quietly. Not with the truth, because the truth was dangerous. To both of them.

Not yet.

So he watched. And waited. And followed. Like a loyal shadow.

Simon Riley was gone.

There was only Ghost now.

And she didn’t know him.

Not yet.

But soon, she would.

The sun bled orange into the Gulf, casting golden ripples across the water as the massive white yacht sliced through the marina like a predator in silk. Palm Jumeirah, glittering like a crown in the ocean, had seen its fair share of luxury, but even here, the arrival of Don Massimo Toricelli turned heads.

Ghost watched from the top floor of the mansion through a sliver in the blackout curtain. He recognized the yacht, custom-built, three decks, helipad, and a private lounge with imported marble flooring. He’d studied it in the brief.

His yacht, a gleaming, multi-million dollar Leviathan, rocked gently in the turquoise water, tethered just off the private dock of her Palm Jumeirah estate. It gleamed like his ego, always visible, always looming.

Massimo was coming.

And that meant trouble.

The Italian stepped off the yacht with the confidence of a man who owned the world and everything in it. Black suit sharp enough to cut, sunglasses shielding eyes that never missed a detail.

The black Maserati had barely stopped outside the mansion before Massimo Toricelli stepped out, flanked by his two most loyal bodyguards. He wore his usual armour of a designer three-piece suit, sunglasses despite the low golden sun, and that chilling smirk that made Rose’s stomach turn. The man smelled of cologne and control.

He carried a box in his hand. Velvet black. The kind of box that didn’t contain anything simple.

Rose was summoned to the lobby. Always summoned, never invited.

Inside the mansion, Rose was being prepped. She didn’t want to go downstairs, Ghost could see it in her face. Her robe was replaced by a floor-length designer dress, her makeup immaculate. A doll on display.

She descended the marble staircase slowly, her every step echoing in the grand, hollow luxury of the mansion she couldn't escape. The lobby was vast, double height ceilings, Italian chandeliers, crystal vases she didn’t pick, all curated to reflect a life she no longer had control over.

He stood in the corner of the marble lobby, arms crossed, skull mask reflecting the light from the chandelier above. Every nerve in his body burned.

Then the door opened.

Massimo entered like a storm in human skin.

Massimo sat in one of the velvet armchairs like he owned the place. Because he did. Or at least, he owned the cage around her.

"Bellissima," he purred, his voice smooth and poisonous. “Dubai suits you.”

Rose managed a smile, tight, hollow. “Massimo.”

Ghost stood in the corner, near the mirrored console table. He was motionless, silent, a black sentinel in full tactical gear. Skull mask on. Hands behind his back. The perfect blend of menace and restraint.

Massimo glanced at him once, indifferent. "You can leave us."

Ghost didn’t move.

Rose lifted her chin. "He stays."

Massimo gave a faint chuckle and gestured dismissively. "As you wish, tesoro."

He reached into a bag one of his men handed him and pulled out a velvet box.

"Cartier," he said simply, like it was an apology. "For your good behavior."

She took it with stiff fingers, murmured a thank you that made her mouth taste like ash. The necklace inside was encrusted with diamonds. Cold. Lifeless. Like a chain pretending to be a gift.

Ghost’s hands curled into fists in the shadow of his sleeves.

Massimo’s eyes flicked toward him.

“And you must be the new shadow. What do they call you? Phantom? Skull?”

Ghost didn’t move.

“Ghost.”

Massimo chuckled. “Fitting. Let’s hope you’re as loyal as the last one.”

Rose shifted, her discomfort palpable. Ghost could feel it in her silence.

Massimo turned his attention back to her. “I’ve missed you. We’ll have dinner this weekend. I’ll have the chef flown in from Florence. You’ll wear the necklace.”

He leaned in closer, voice a whisper of threat and lust. “Say yes.”

She didn’t answer. Just nodded.

Massimo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You look tired. Are they feeding you well? Are you sleeping?"

Rose said nothing.

He smiled wider. "Still so stubborn. That’s what I like about you. We’ll talk again soon."

Massimo straightened, pleased with himself.

“Until then, cara mia.”

And then he stood. Kissed the air beside her cheek.

Left as quickly as he arrived.

He left the box in her hands and turned, his coat swaying as he walked out. The doors shut behind him.

Only then did Rose exhale.

Ghost stayed still. Watching. Planning. Rage crawling up his spine like wildfire.

He couldn’t move. Not yet.

He hadn’t called Task Force 141.

Because this wasn’t the moment.

But it was coming.

And when it did, Massimo wouldn’t walk away.

The moment the double doors shut and his footsteps faded, she turned and ascended the stairs quickly, almost running.

Ghost followed, his boots quiet behind her.

She reached her bedroom, the velvet box still clutched in her hand like it had burned her.

Once inside, she hurled it across the room. The lid snapped open. The necklace hit the floor with a sharp, cold clatter, scattering light across the marble.

She sat down beside it. On the floor. In her silk gown. Head bowed, fists clenched, tears pooling in her eyes like they had nowhere else to go.

Ghost stood by the door. Watching. Silent.

She didn’t notice when he stepped closer.

Until he knelt down beside her.

"You don't have to do what he says," he said softly.

She looked up, startled.

He reached forward, hesitantly, almost reverently, and wiped the tear trailing down her cheek with a gloved thumb.

Her breath hitched.

And then...

He extended his hand.

Palm up.

The same way she had, years ago, trembling in a glittering gymnasium, her heart in her throat as she offered her hand to a boy who never took it.

"You don't have to deal with this alone," he said gently.

Her eyes widened.

She stared at the hand. At the shape of it. The calloused palm. The curve of his fingers. So familiar.

Her voice was barely a whisper. "Simon...?"

He didn’t say anything at first.

Just nodded.

The silence cracked around them like thunder.

Her lips parted, her chest rising with a thousand emotions she couldn’t name.

He slowly removed the mask.

And there he was.

Simon Riley.

Older. Harder. Scarred. But still him.

His eyes locked onto hers.

"I came back for you, Rose."

And this time, when she took his hand, he didn’t let go.

[sixpounder]

replicated memories

deadpool (wade wilson) x reader

summary: in which deadpool is hired to kill you, only to realize you two were once best friends.

based on this request: “For the request, I wanted a sfw one where Deadpool and the reader character were good friends in high school but drifted apart after graduation. They meet later on where the reader is now a bitter scientist with a facial scar that causes them to wear a mask, and Deadpool was hired to kill them, but he somehow recognizes them. (Bonus points if you could have the reader character also be a mutant that has the ability to replicate themself)”

warnings: none, hurt/comfort

word count: 1.1k

lowercase intended

the first time wade wilson met you, you were both fifteen, sitting in the back of a detention room, trading insults like currency. you were sharp, mean even, but funny. funny enough that he liked you immediately. you were also the only person who could match his wit, who could take whatever nonsense he threw your way and launch it back twice as fast.

you and wade were inseparable for a while, two misfits finding comfort in shared sarcasm and bad decisions. then high school ended. life happened. and somehow, you lost each other.

so it’s a little ironic that the next time wade sees you, he’s supposed to kill you.

“so, who’s the unlucky bastard this time?” wade asks, flipping the manila folder open. he’s perched on the edge of a rooftop, legs swinging like a kid on a swing set, while weasel leans against the railing, sipping a beer.

“some scientist,” weasel says, glancing at his phone. “been making waves in the mutant community. rumor is they’ve been messing with some high-profile genetics. pissed off the wrong people.”

wade hums, eyes scanning the file. the picture is grainy, security footage most likely, but he can make out the basics-lab coat, dark gloves, a mask covering the lower half of their face.

“ooh, mysterious. i like it. any superpowers i should know about? do they explode? teleport? please tell me they explode.”

“they replicate.”

“…come again?”

“they can make copies of themselves. like, full-on clones. real bodies, not illusions. makes them a pain in the ass to fight, apparently.”

wade whistles. “hot damn. that’s kinda cool. and by ‘cool’ i mean ‘deeply annoying for me.’ you know i hate math. having to count how many people i’m fighting? ugh, exhausting.”

“just get it done, man.” weasel shakes his head. “client’s paying big for this one.”

wade salutes. “aye aye, captain. murder mission accepted.”

breaking into your lab is easy. too easy, honestly, and that should be his first clue. the building is state-of-the-art, all shiny metal and sterile lighting, but the security is laughable. no guards, just a couple of cameras and a keycard system that takes him all of three minutes to bypass.

it almost feels like a trap.

but wade’s been doing this long enough to know a trap when he sees one, and this? this just feels… off.

he creeps through the hallways, twin pistols drawn, until he reaches the main lab. inside, various pieces of high-tech equipment hum softly, monitors displaying streams of data he doesn’t understand. and in the middle of it all, hunched over a workstation, is you.

he doesn’t recognize you at first. the years have changed you. your hair is shorter, your posture is different, stiffer, more guarded. and then there’s the mask, sleek and black, covering your face.

but your eyes.

your eyes are the same.

and when you finally glance up, some kind of instinct kicks in, because his brain short-circuits and the only thing he can say is:

“holy shit.”

your eyes narrow, and suddenly there are three of you.

“who the hell are you?” all three of you ask in unison, voices overlapping in eerie harmony.

wade lets out a low whistle. “okay, that is deeply unsettling. but also kind of hot? no? just me? cool, cool.”

the clones move fast. one of them lunges at him, but wade sidesteps easily, pistol-whipping it in the back of the head. it stumbles but doesn’t fall.

“damn, you’re strong. do you work out?”

another one swings at him, and he ducks, twisting to fire a shot, only for the clone to dissipate into nothing.

“oh, come on,” wade groans. “fake-out clones? that’s just rude.”

the real you, or at least, the one that doesn’t vanish when he swings at it, grabs a scalpel from the desk and slashes at his arm. it cuts through the suit, drawing blood, and wade gasps dramatically.

“betrayed! by my own high school bestie! this is worse than that time you ate the last slice of pizza during our senior year movie night!”

you freeze. just for a second.

and that’s all it takes.

“oh my god,” wade breathes, stepping back slightly, lowering his guns. “it is you. holy shit.”

your grip tightens around the scalpel. “how do you know that?”

“babe, please. nobody roasts me like you do. it’s a very specific skill set.”

you stare at him for a long moment, then scoff. “wade wilson.”

“the one and only. except for that one guy in minnesota, but he spells it with a ‘y,’ so he doesn’t count.”

you don’t laugh. wade thinks that might be the biggest tragedy of the night.

ten minutes later, you’re sitting on a metal table, bandaging wade’s arm because “if you’re gonna stick around, at least stop bleeding all over my lab.”

the silence is heavy. thick with unspoken things.

“so,” wade finally says. “mask. cool look. very ‘mysterious anti-hero.’”

your hands pause for a second. “it’s not for style.”

wade gets it before you even have to explain. the way you won’t meet his eyes. the tension in your shoulders. his voice is softer when he says, “what happened?”

“an accident,” you murmur. “lab explosion. i got lucky. but my face…” you exhale sharply. “it’s not exactly presentable anymore.”

wade is quiet for a moment. then, carefully, he reaches out, gloved fingers brushing against yours.

“yeah, well,” he says, tone deliberately light. “neither is mine.”

you let out a soft, almost bitter laugh.

“besides,” wade continues, “if i had a dollar for every time someone told me i was hard to look at, i’d have, like, at least twenty bucks. which, for the record, is a lot of times.”

this time, when you look at him, there’s something gentler in your gaze.

“you’re still an idiot,” you mutter.

“yeah,” wade agrees, shifting slightly closer. “but i’m your idiot.”

there’s a beat of hesitation, just long enough for you to make a choice. then, slowly, carefully, you reach up and pull your mask down.

your scar runs from your cheekbone down to your jaw, healed but unmistakable. wade doesn’t flinch. doesn’t even blink.

instead, he tilts his head and grins. “badass. very villainous. ten out of ten.”

you huff a laugh, shaking your head, and before you can think too hard about it, wade leans in and presses his lips to yours.

it’s not dramatic. not a hollywood kiss. just something warm, solid, grounding.

when you pull away, wade’s grinning like an idiot.

“i’ve wanted to do this since high school” he admits, almost fangirling. “so,” he says, “does this mean i don’t have to kill you?”

you roll your eyes. “just shut up and kiss me again.”

and he does.

a/n: let me know you liked it, and if you did, don’t be scared to like, comment or reblog, it would really help me since this blog is new. let me know if you have any kind of request, not just for deadpool, it can be of any marvel character or more, i’m happy to write them <3

[ak-vintage]

From the Ground Up - Prologue

Pairing: DBF!Joel Miller x OFC ("Reader" Format/Second Person POV)

Series Summary: After getting laid off from your job, you are forced to move back in with your parents until you can get back on your feet. You can't help but feel like you have started your life over again at square one, but when your dad's best friend offers his help in the form of a job at his burgeoning construction business, you learn that maybe there is more than one path to the life of your dreams.

Chapter Summary: You receive news that throws your carefully-planned life into a tailspin, and you are forced to ask for help.

Chapter Tags/Warnings: Angst. Complex family dynamics.

Read on AO3 | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

When the news broke, it came in the form of a pre-recorded video call.

You joined the 30-minute meeting from your desk, headphones cupped securely over your ears and the report you were currently refining open on your second monitor. It was intended to be a quarterly business review, something you didn’t have to actively participate in but that you enjoyed running in the background while you worked on other tasks. You preferred to stay informed, to be able to go to your one-on-ones with your manager with a nugget or two to discuss to show that you had, in fact, been paying attention.

Instead, however, as the webinar link loaded and the video share flared to life, rather than the CFO’s balding face staring back at you, you were met with the static, faraway gazes of both the CEO and the head of HR. The chat was disabled, the Q&A box turned gray. There was no way for you, or anyone else in the call, to interact with the presenters.

You felt your stomach drop, something cold and sickening settling deep in your gut, and like a car accident on the freeway, or an oncoming freight train, you found you could not look away as the video began to play.

“…we regret to inform you…”

“…not a decision we make lightly…”

“…two months of severance will be paid out on…”

“…lose access to company systems following this call…”

“…look for further communication to your personal email addresses on file…”

The 30-minute call ended after only 10, the screen going black and then disconnecting automatically, and just like that, you and about 150 other people found yourselves unceremoniously unemployed.

The following 15 minutes passed in a humiliated blur. Frantic glances around the office floor, trying to sus out who had also met the business end of the unfeeling corporate axe and who had somehow managed to avoid it. Pitying stares from your teammates whose employment was still secure, the ones who got the alternative meeting invite and were told in a different pre-recorded message that they were safe. Trembling hands and pricking eyes as you stood to start gathering your belongings. Cool, dispassionate instructions from the building security guards who hovered while you packed, waiting to escort you and the other unfortunates from your desks to the parking deck.

The whole thing could hardly have been believed if you hadn’t lived it yourself. You had never been naïve enough to buy into the insipid “we’re like family” philosophy your employer boasted on all of its recruitment materials, but this level of callousness stung more than you cared to admit. You had never had a place of work make you feel quite so small before. You felt like a spectacle, like a criminal, and it made your heart race anxiously in your chest the entire way out of the building.

When a security guard held out his hand and demanded you surrender your employee badge, it was only the anger and betrayal simmering just under the surface of your skin that prevented a tear from leaking down your cheek.

So you polished up your resume. You applied for unemployment benefits. You signed up for job alerts from all the major online job boards. You sent out countless applications, responded to numerous dead-end cold calls from recruiters. You checked your email almost compulsively, kept the sound on your phone turned on at all hours. You did everything right. And still, endless weeks passed with hardly a whisper.

For the first few months of your unemployment, the severance package was a lifesaver. You stayed on top of your rent, paid the remainder of your bills without issue, and even managed to sneak a little into savings. After that ran dry, you were forced to tap into those savings to make ends meet. The unemployment checks simply weren’t enough on their own – not in Dallas, not in this economy, and for a while, your rainy-day fund provided exactly the kind of emergency cushion it was designed for. Until that, too, started to grow lean and meager.  It was then that you started to question whether it was time to ask for help.

At first, the thought of calling your parents didn’t even cross your mind. Your mother didn’t know the first thing about the household finances; she had been living with carte blanche from your father for decades and hadn’t earned a paycheck of her own since before you were born. And your father… Well. He was a “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” sort of man. Not the type of person you would prefer to consider asking for a handout.

Instead, over boxes of Tex Mex takeout and reruns of your favorite sitcom, you asked your boyfriend how he would feel about moving in together.

The two of you had discussed it a handful of times in the past, but only in the abstract – couching every conversation on the topic with “someday” just to be clear that you didn’t mean right now, you didn’t mean soon, you meant some hypothetical future date that could be months or even years down the line. Perhaps had circumstances been different, you would have contented herself with continuing to broach the topic as theoretical, but the reality was that you were quickly running out of options. The two of you had been together for nearly 10 months and had yet to encounter any major obstacles that would have had you questioning the relationship’s long-term potential. It was a logical step, you thought, even given the extenuating circumstances.

Except…perhaps it wasn’t. If Jacob’s deer-in-the-headlights stare and stammering reply were any indication, perhaps the suggestion that the two of you move in together was absurd.

His apartment was too small for two people, he insisted. And finding a new one, in this market? Out of the question. Plus, he liked his neighborhood, liked his building. It was the perfect distance from his office, and you knew how much he hated dealing with the city traffic; would you really ask him to give up such an easy commute?

And really, wasn’t 10 months a little soon to be talking about living together? He thought you both enjoyed your independence, both preferred having your own spaces. Couldn’t you just find a cheaper place for now? Surely your unemployment checks weren’t that small. Were you sure you weren’t being just a bit too frivolous with your money right now? Did you really need to rush into something as serious as moving in together?

Needless to say, you dropped the subject.

You made it two more weeks before you overdrew your account for the first time. Another two more weeks, and you were dodging emails from your landlord about being behind on rent. Every night as you lay in bed, tracing patterns in the ceiling plaster as you begged for sleep, the weight of it all felt like a physical thing, pressing on your chest, stifling your breath. Rent, utilities, car payments, student loans, insurance, credit card minimums…all of it in the red, all of it more than you could manage without the income that you had built your life around. You were not an extravagant person; you had planned it all, budgeted it all down to the penny. And despite your best efforts, you simply could not thrift and save enough to make up for the sudden loss of 50 percent of your income.

So you did the one thing there was left to try – opened the one door that you had kept firmly closed throughout this entire ordeal. Late one night, an eviction threat you had found taped to your apartment door crumpled in your palm, you picked up your phone and punched in a number you knew by heart.

“…Kathryn?” The man’s voice on the other end of the connection was low, gruff, half-asleep as he mumbled into the receiver. “You okay? D’you know what time it is?”

You swallowed your answering sigh, the sound morphing into something more like a hiccup as unwanted tears started to catch in the web of your eyelashes. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry to worry you. I’m okay.”

“That’s good, that’s good. What’s goin’ on then, kiddo? You need somethin’?”

Letting your eyes fall shut, you took a moment to gather yourself, to collect the words of the question you had been praying you would never have to ask. Those trapped tears fell then, and you heard the gentle splat of the water hitting the paper in your hand, surely leaving blurred ink in its wake.

“Dad, I… I need help. Is it okay if I move back home?”

[gs29]

A New Role

Squid Game Master list

*Where a guard brings his wife into the twisted world of the game.*

It was her first day.

Y/N stood in the cold, dimly lit hallway of the facility, the clattering of footsteps echoing off the concrete walls. The thick, oppressive air made her skin feel tight as she adjusted the mask over her face. The square-shaped symbol on her chest was a stark reminder of the world she had just entered, a world she’d only heard whispers of.

Her husband, the square guard, stood beside her, his towering figure imposing even in the muted light. The same mask he wore—the one with the sharp, angular lines—was a symbol of his rank. It wasn’t just the uniform that made him intimidating, it was his quiet, calculated demeanor. He didn’t speak much, but when he did, his voice always carried a weight of authority.

Today, though, he was different. Today, he was her protector.

“Stay close,” he murmured, his voice low enough that only she could hear. He gave her a quick glance, his dark eyes searching hers beneath their shared masks.

She nodded, her stomach a knot of nerves. She couldn’t believe this was happening. This was the same man she had shared a quiet life with before everything went wrong—the same man who had once promised her that nothing would ever come between them.

Now here they were, in a place where everything was twisted, where survival was a daily fight, and death was the ultimate price for failure.

As they walked deeper into the compound, she glanced at the other guards—some of them she recognized from the few times her husband had returned home covered in blood, his face unreadable. They were all masked, faceless entities in a system that stripped away their identities.

“Your role is simple,” he said, his tone firm, “Follow my lead, keep your composure, and don’t falter. There’s no room for mistakes here.”

She could feel his hand brush lightly against hers, a small gesture, but it was enough to ground her. His presence was the only thing that felt familiar in this cold, foreign place.

They arrived at a control room of sorts, where a few other guards stood at attention, awaiting instructions. The walls were adorned with security monitors, each one showing a different part of the arena. The players were scattered across the different zones, oblivious to the constant surveillance.

Her husband gave her a brief look of reassurance before turning to his colleagues. “She’s new. Keep an eye on her.”

“Understood,” a voice answered. But Y/N wasn’t paying attention to the others. She could feel her pulse quicken as the gravity of her situation settled in.

“You’ll assist with monitoring the players,” he continued, his voice low. “Do exactly as I say. When we issue commands, you give them. And when I tell you to step back, you step back. Do not hesitate.”

Her heart raced as she followed him over to one of the security stations. A small, handheld device was placed in her hands. It was used to issue commands to the players, to manipulate the game’s flow. Every decision, every word, had consequences here. She had no experience, no training, just the faint knowledge of what her husband had told her in hushed voices during the rare moments they had together at home.

“Stay calm,” he said again, his voice a touch gentler now. His large hand rested briefly on her shoulder, grounding her. “We’re in this together. You’ll be fine.”

Y/N nodded, taking a slow breath. She had to believe that. Because right now, it was the only thing keeping her from falling apart.

Minutes passed, and the arena’s chaos played out on the monitors. The players were caught in the middle of one of the many deadly challenges, each one fighting for their lives as guards directed their movements. The tension in the air was thick, almost suffocating. She could see the fear in the eyes of the players, their desperation palpable even through the screens. But her job wasn’t to feel sorry for them. Her job was to watch, to ensure the game continued without disruption.

Her hands trembled as she adjusted the controls, sending a message to the players. Move. Follow the line. The words seemed so simple, so impersonal, but they held so much weight.

Her husband noticed her hesitation and stepped closer, his voice soft yet insistent. “Press the button,” he commanded, his voice unwavering.

For a split second, Y/N hesitated. But she looked back at him, at the cold, unfeeling mask that hid his true expression. She knew that in this place, hesitation meant danger.

With a shaky breath, she pressed the button. The alarm blared, signaling the immediate intervention of other guards. The young man was quickly restrained, dragged off-screen, and the game continued.

Y/N couldn’t breathe. The weight of what she had just done—what she had just been forced to be a part of—was heavy, suffocating. She felt sick.

Her husband noticed the change in her demeanor, but he said nothing. He simply placed a hand on her back and guided her to a quiet corner of the room.

“You’re doing fine,” he said softly. “You’re learning how to survive. This is the only way we get out of here.”

Y/N wanted to scream. She wanted to tell him that she didn’t want this—that she didn’t want to be a part of it. But as she looked into his eyes, she saw the same helplessness, the same resignation. He didn’t want this either. But they had no choice.

Not anymore.

For now, all they had was each other—and the grim reality that survival in this world came at the cost of their humanity.

And as the games played on outside, Y/N knew there was no turning back.

[raya-hunter01]

Not My Sister's Keeper Pt. 13 Final

Not My Sister’s Keeper

Jey Uso X OC (Kayla)

Roman X OC(Regina)

Rating: 18+

Warning: Smut; sex, fluff, couple arguing, Jealousy, infidelity, pregnancy

Roamn’s wife recently left medical school and returned home to save her marriage. Upon her return, she finds out things are not what they seem. Her sister is pregnant by her best friend Jey Uso, who is also Roman’s cousin, and her husband is acting suspiciously.

What happens when a conversation overhead on a baby monitor blows her world apart?

Five Months Later

Rebecca’s House

Rebecca’s POV

“Sweetie I’m just glad you agreed to come over to help me cook thanksgiving dinner.”

“I know you trying mama and I’m going to try to meet you halfway.” Kara said with a tired sigh rubbing her belly.

“Wait were you using the bathroom?” I asked seeing the shower in the background.

“Yes, the baby keeps sitting on my bladder and I’m peeing constantly,” Kara moaned washing her hands.

“I guess I didn’t help calling you at 7:00 a.m.,” I joked as Kara genuinely smiled.

“It’s no problem, I be up with the chickens these days trying to get comfortable.”

“It will end soon enough and then you’re going to be tired from lack of sleep.”

“I can’t wait either.”

My daughter was going to be an amazing mother. “Uh, is Josh still leaving later on today?”

“Yea, he’s gotta film some stuff but he will back tomorrow night in time for thanksgiving. Tani is going to drop me off at your house and come back and get me when I’m ready.”

“Well, that’s nice of her, I know how I ain’t on her list of people she likes.”

“Karbug, who on the phone?” I heard Jey asked as I chuckled seeing Kara turn the camera on him.

“Hey, Josh sorry to wake ya’ll up so early.”

“Nah, you good I got to get up soon anyway,” he said waving at me.

 “I know ya’ll want to spend a little more time together, so I’ll let you go. I love you, Kara and be safe coming out in this weather.”

“I love you too mama, and I will. See you a little later.”

“I felt joyful, I had my baby back and was about to become a grandma again. While fixing breakfast for Logan, our local news alert interrupted my favorite morning show. “What the hell goin’ on now in the middle of a fucking hurricane.”

Channel 10 news

“I am April, and this is Channel 10 news. Early this morning before daybreak we’ve been told three inmates escaped the Pensacola Women’s State Prison. A security breach occurred, and caused the prison to go into lockdown, but three prisoners managed to bypass the system and count of inmates.”

“Oh my god,” I gasped in shock…This isn’t happening…Not now.

“Through an emergency investigation it was discovered Taylor Green, a newly hired guard was having sexual encounters with the three women. In exchange for the sexual encounters, Green helped the inmates escape.”

“Lord, please don’t let it be her...Don’t let it be her.”

“As of 7:00 a.m. two of the women have been captured but Tia Morris is still at large and is armed and dangerous. Please be safe everyone and if you have any information, please call 911.”

“Tia…What are you doin’?”

Cutting the TV off, I rushed to check the doors to make sure everything was locked and secure.  The storm raged outside and within me as I rushed upstairs to check on Logan.

 I signed in relief seeing her still asleep. Gently kissing her forehead, I then went and checked the rest of the upstairs before going back downstairs.

“Calm down Rebecca, she probably on the road trying to get the hell outta town. Your safe and Logan is safe,” I whispered trying to calm down but deep down I felt something bad was going to happen.

--------

-Jey’s & Kara’s House

Jey’s POV

These last five months had been a dream, and it was getting harder and harder to leave Kara. She had been traveling with me some during her pregnancy, I even bought us a bus. I wanted her to be as comfortable as possible when she was with me.

She had been doing great up until these last two months though. Our son or daughter was determined to make his or her arrival early. We had been spending a lot of time at the hospital lately stopping her labor.

 Then the baby, won’t cooperate at all during the ultrasounds so we still don’t know if we’re having a boy or a girl. We don’t care though as long as he or she is healthy.

“Jey, we will be fine, you’re coming back tomorrow night.”

“I don’t want to leave ya’ll though,” I said kissing Kara’s belly. The storm raging outside making even harder to leave. I wanted to stay home in this bed with my wife.

“Well daddy, you gotta go so you can film. Then you get to come home and be with us for the next nine weeks.”

Damn right I was, my mom was going to stay with us, but I wanted to be home to be with Kara and the baby. I was going into a feud with the new bloodline so we were going to film some stuff that would air over the next two months. Then when I come back, I will be rejoining Roman and Jimmy to reunite the original bloodline.

“Doody, you heard me?” Kara said running her fingers through my hair.

“Yea, I heard you baby. I know I gotta go, but I don’t like it.”

“We will be fine, I promise.”

 “Hey, I’mma need you to stay in mama’s belly while I’m gone kid. No hospital visits, please.”

“I know right, these hospital visits with these contractions ain’t been no joke but I haven’t had any for two weeks.”

 Feeling a strong kick, I smiled and kissed her stomach. “I will take that kick as you telling yo’ daddy you gon’ be good,” I chuckled getting up and grabbing my bag.

“Let me get up-” gently pushing her back against her pillow, I shook my head.

“Nope….. Stay there, Ma will be here soon.” Leaning over to kiss her I knew I had to leave now, or I wouldn’t. “Fine, I’ll sleep a little longer,” she whispered against my lips. “Thank you for your cooperation, Ma.”

I suddenly had a nagging feeling, but I don’t want to scare her. It probably was me just not wanting to leave her.

“Be safe, we love you, daddy.”

“I love ya’ll too, and I’ll be back soon.”

Walking out of our bedroom I looked back one last time at my family quickly taking my phone out and snapping a picture of Kara laying in bed her belly on full display.

“Bye, Josh.”

“Ok, I’m gone…Love ya’ll.”

“We love you too!”

I felt like I should have stayed but I tried to push down the feeling that I was making a big mistake leaving.

---

Two hours Later

Kara’s Parents House

Rebecca’s POV

Still no updates on Tia but the prison assured me they were looking everywhere but told me to stay put. I tried to call Kara but no answer, I even called their house phone. It was best if she just stayed home and didn’t come over. I would never forgive myself if anything happened to her or the baby. “Come on Josh, pick up.”

“This is josh, you know what to do. Leave it at the beep..Yeet.”

“Josh, its Rebecca. I’ve tried to get Kara on the phone, but she isn’t picking up. Tia has escaped and they can’t find her, don’t leave the house or if you have go back!”  

CRASH

“Oh my god, No! Logan, sweetie, are you ok?!” I yelled running upstairs. Peeking in on her again I saw her still sound asleep. What the hell is going on?

Once again, I cautiously headed to check out my room.  As I opened the door, I heard a loud bang followed by a sharp pain shot through my stomach.

Tia’s POV

That was so easy, I didn’t think it would be this simple. “I told you that you’d be sorry.” I didn’t want to hurt my mother, all she had to do was listen and help me. She turned her back on me so as far as I’m concerned she’s collateral damage.

T-T-Tia, don’t h- hurt the baby,” my mother cried collapsing to the floor in pain. Not a care in the world about her own self.

“I would never ever hurt her; she’s coming with me.” I couldn’t leave without her; she was my ticket to getting what I needed out of Roman.

As my mother lay gasping for breath, I grabbed her cellphone as she tried to reach for it.

“Oh, you want help? Well, go find the phone,” I said throwing it out of the room as she sobbed in defeat. Just as I was about to go get Logan I heard the front door open.

“Ma, you ok? My phone is acting up and I saw I had some missed calls. Tani dropped me off and went to run a quick errand but will be back in a bit to take me to Verizon. I swear Jey will lose his mind if he can’t get in touch with me,” Kara rambled as she walked around downstairs looking for mama.  I couldn’t believe my luck right now.

“Oh, this is too good. I swear God loves me,” I chuckled as my mother lay gasping for breath pulling at my legs.” N- No, T- Tia.”

“Get off me,” I hissed kicking as I heard Kara coming up the stairs. “Ma, Logan, ya’ll ok?”  

I heard her go into Logan’s room down the hall. “Yea, come on in here next bitch, I got a surprise for you.” I could practically smell the worry on her from down the hall and I loved it.

All I had to do was wait for her to come down here to check on mama.

Kara’s POV

“Logan,” I whispered shaking her a little as she moaned opening her eyes. “Tee Tee, you here,” her tiny innocent voice said stretching her arms out wide.

“Yea, sweetie it’s me. I need you to get up ok, but don’t make a sound.” Making that statement alone in a mere whisper seemed to wake her up as she nodded, giving me a hug.

“Mommy here?” her tiny voice asked with worry as I nodded, holding her close. “Yea, I think so, and I need to get you out of here. Remember what we practiced?” I asked as she nodded.

“I run to Ms. Ruby house, her light on.” She whispered rubbing her tired eyes. “Yes, that’s right pretty girl, her outside porch light will be on and she will get some help for us.”

“I scared Tee Tee.” Logan cried, my heart breaking. Logan was an innocent child who didn’t deserve any of this mess.

“I know baby, but I got you and I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.” I felt helpless, that we had to teach a four-year-old how to run for help but thank God she was smart and understood.

Tia thought she was smart but the eerie silence when I came in and seeing mom’s phone laying in the hall. I knew something was up and I knew we needed help.

“I left the front door open, and when I go down the hall, I want you to tip toe down the steps, try not to make a noise. Once you get to the front door start runnin’ and don’t stop till you get to Ms. Ruby’s house, ok?”

“Tee Tee come wit me?”

“No baby I can’t run, I’d never make it. That’s why I need your help and no matter what, don’t look back or stop running until you get there. Tell her grandma is hurt and we need help.”

The fear in her tiny face broke my heart but I had to be remain calm on the the outside, inside I was losing it. After I put on her shoes and coat she once again wrapped her tiny arms around me. “I love you Tee Tee Kara.”

“I love you too baby, I want you to always remember that.”

Putting her hood on I took a breath, trying to dial 911 once again but to no avial.. we had no choice it was now or never. As I left her room, I signaled for her to go downstair. Seeing her follow my directions as she tip toed down the steps, I had a hard time controlling my tears.

“Logan, try to get dressed and I will look for grandma sweetie,” I said closing her door. Glancing over the rail, I saw she was finally at the front door. She quickly turned on the porch light and glanced back up at me.

Her tiny face filled with determination as she nodded at me and took off running as fast as her little legs would allow. “Thank God,” I whispered thankful she had escaped.

 Slowly going down the hall I could see Tia’s reflection in the huge hall mirror that was adjacent to my mother’s room. There she was standing in our mother’s room with a gun. I  felt my heart drop hearing my mother crying in pain.

“Run! Kara, get Logan and run!” My mother screamed as I took off back downstairs trying not to fall.

“Uh, not now ,” I cried feeling a sharp pain shot through my stomach. “Not yet please, just give mama a little time,” I pleaded looking for my dad’s gun.

“Looking for daddy’s gun Kara?” Tia’s cold voice sending chills down my spine. It was either me or her and in this moment and I will do anything to keep my child safe, even if it means killing my own sister.

Logan’s POV

I was tired but I couldn’t stop running. Ms. Ruby house was close, I just had to keep running.  “Ms. Ruby!” I cried finally seeing the blue house with the front porch light on. “Ms. Rubby help!” I cried knocking and kicking her door trying to make sure she heard me.

I ran into her arms the minute the door opened. “Ted, call 911 Tia’s at Rebecca’s!” she yelled as I continued to cry. “Please help my grammy and Tee Tee.”

“We’re getting help sweetie, you did so good our sweet girl,” Ms. Ruby whispered, holding me close as I cried.  

Ruby’s POV

“You ok, I got you, sweet girl,” I reassured Logan carrying her inside as my son called the police. “The lines are busy; the hurricane is messing with towers and phone lines.”

 “Keep trying Ted!” I screamed as he nodded once again trying to get help.

“Finally! Yes, we need the police and an ambulance at 1254 Greer Road. Tia Morris, an inmate that escape earlier this morning is there and is dangerous. She has two hostages.”

“I want my daddy,” Logan cried as I pulled out my cell and tried to dial Roman and after a couple of times my phone finally dialed through.

“Hey, Ms. Neslon-”

“Roman have ya’ll left yet?”

“Uh, no we are grounded at the airport until the weather slacks off, is everything ok?”

“Roman, Tia has escaped and is at Rebecca’s.”

“Logan-”

“Roman, she got out, but Kara and Rebecca are still in the house with Tia. Rebecca is hurt from what Logan is telling me.”

Putting the phone on speaker I continued to comfort Logan. “Logan, your daddy is on the phone.” Her tiny head perking up at the new information.

“Daddy, she hurt grammy,” she cried as I could hear the worry and relief in Roman’s voice.

“Daddy’s coming my baby, we are so proud of you.”

“Tee Tee help me runway,” she cried as I could hear Roman crying. “Grammy and Tee Tee Kara are going to be ok. I promise.”

Jimmy’s POV

“What you talkin’ bout Uce?” Jey asked hearing Kara’s name. “Daddy loves you and we are on the way to you.” Roman said in a panic hanging up the phone.

“Kevin, get the car back up here we need to get off this plane!” Roman yelled as I felt the room starting to spin.

“Stop and tell us what the fuck is going on!” Jey demanded as Roman wiped his tears. “Tia has Kara and Rebecca hostage. Logan ran to get help, and they have the ambulance and police on the way.”

“Kara…My Kara?” Jey asked in disbelief reaching for his phone as I placed my hand on my shoulder. “She’s gon’ be ok, they both are,” I tried to reassure him.

“Roman, call Regina and warn her,” I advised trying not to freak out as Jey kept redialing Kara’s phone, the color draining from his face each time he got a busy signal or no answer at all.

“Regina it’s me baby, I need you to listen to me carefully.”

Jey’s POV

“We gotta get there!” I yelled pulling away from Jimmy and grabbing my coat. I had to get to my wife, this isn’t happening right now.

“No, I want you to stay at the house and lock everything up. Logan is ok with Ms. Nelson. I don’t need you in any danger, Tia is insane.” “Jimmy, have you heard from Trin? I know she was supposed to help Kara and Rebecca with the food today.” I asked, the realization hitting him hard that Trin was once again in danger of being hurt because of Tia.

The silence as we all tried to call our loved ones frustrating us more and more by the second as each call was met with a busy signal or no answer.

“Pick up, pick up Trin,” he whispered dialing her number again.

“Come on baby, pick up please.” I pleaded. Damn it, where is the fucking car? I kept trying to call Kara but no luck.  I even took a chance calling Rebecca’s house phone.

 “Fuck!” I screamed getting a busy signal, but I kept calling as we made our way to the car.

“Please keep them safe.”

I knew I should have followed my first mind and not even left. The darkness, wind and rain were a blessing in disguise, and I was thankful we were still here when Ms. Nelson called.

“I knew one thing, I was going to Kill her…I was going to kill Tia if Trin didn’t beat me to it.

Rebecca’s house

Trin’s POV

Whoo, I made it. I had gone to the store to get a few more things to help make dinner for tomorrow. I even ran into Tani and told her I would take Kara later on to get her phone looked at and for her to just go home and get out of this weather.

 Hell, I really believe it’s just the weather messing with the towers. After the weather passes, I think we will be good.

“Why the hell is the front door open?” I muttered. “Kara where you at?  I saw Tani at the store and told her that she could go home,” I said walking in and placing the groceries on the counter in the kitchen.

“Trinity, we good, just leave and turn on the porch light. I’ll hit you up later.” I heard Kara yell causing me to pause.

Trinity?.....The porch light?…Why was Kara calling me by my first name, she always calls me Trin…The porch light is already on, what is sh-. ….Oh shit, Tia is here. She was giving me hints, to get the hell out and get help.

“Uh, yea sure, I’ll make sure to turn it on. I love you girly and I’ll holla at you later.” I said going back out to the car. Picking up my phone I tried to dial out and no luck.  

I then drove out the gate and parked my car out of sight a little way down the road and headed back up to the house. I had to think of a way to get back inside, I couldn’t leave Kara.

Kara’s POV

“Where is mama, Tia?” I asked rubbing my stomach as another pain jolted down my spine as she smiled. “Upstairs in her room, hopefully bleeding out or already dead,” she smiled as I gasped seeing Trin’s reflection in the patio window.

We had to get the drop on this crazy bitch, and I knew I couldn’t do it alone. I knew I was going into labor because the pain was different than the Braxton hicks I had experienced before.

“I got to get up Logan and pack her a few things. Go over there and have a seat. Looks like you’re in labor sis.”

She still didn’t know Logan was long gone and I had faith she made it to Ruby’s house by now and the police were on the way. I had to believe that. “You sure you ain’t gon’ shoot me in the back again?” I groaned trying to breathe through my current contraction.

“Nah, you safe this time, my niece or nephew is your only saving grace right now,” she whispered watching me closely as I steadied my breathing.

Suddenly another sharp pain it. “The contractions are too close,” I cried collapsing to the floor as I saw Trin looking at me with worry before taking off towards the side of the house.

“You betta hold it in, I ain’t delivering no baby. You on your own with that shit. Just let me get me kid and I’ll leave you to it.”

“I don’t want you touching me anyway, let alone passing your evil ass spirit onto my baby,” I snapped as she kicked me in the stomach. “Now watch yourself,” she hissed as I rolled into a ball.

“Ugh! Fuck you!” I cried cradling my stomach as I felt another kick, this time across my lower back.

“T-Tia stop,” I heard my mom cry as I refused to uncurl my body. I had one job and that was to protect my child.

 “Oh, mama so nice of you to join us. Look at you clawing your way down the stairs to help your baby girl,” Tia laughed as I heard the sound of glass shattering from the side of the house. Trin….Trin was back inside the house.

“What the hell?!” Tia shouted running towards the sound as I pulled myself towards my mother.  “Ma, are you ok?” I cried truly terrified seeing her covered in blood and holding her stomach.

“Yea, get Logan,” she coughed, fighting to keep her eyes open. “I did, she’s gone to get help, just hang on.”

“End it Kara….Keep Logan safe,” she moaned before she passed out from the pain. Feeling her chest rise and fall under my hand I gently kissed her forehead.

“Mama, just hang in there,” I cried. Suddenly, I heard another crash followed by a gunshot.

“Trin!” I screamed, willing myself to my feet in spite of another powerful contraction tearing through my body. I had to help her. “Come on baby, just hang in there for a little while longer,” I pleaded making my way down the hall. I saw the broken window but now sign of Trin or Tia.

“I told you bitch! I warned you didn’t I?” I heard Trin yell as I got closer. Thank God she was ok, they had apparently fought their way up to the second floor.

Grabbling the railing I slowly made my way up the back stairs to the spare bedroom.

Trin’s POV

This bitch really tried to shoot at me and then dodge up the back steps to hide. Nah, not today, you gon’ learn to head the warning.

“I told you I was gon’ show you crazy!” I yelled throwing Tia against the wall as she tried to protect herself. “I’ll kill you!” Tia screamed as I grabbed her by the throat choking her.

 “Not if I kill you first,” I hissed as Tia raked me in the eyes and punched me in the stomach. “You gon’ have to kill me!” Tia screamed, tackling me to the floor as I returned the favor by kneeing her in the stomach and elbowing her in the throat.

Her gasping for breath bringing me great joy. “I’ll be happy to make your wish come true bitch!” I yelled climbing on top of her wrapping my hands back around her throat as I slammed her head against the floor. “Ow,” she hissed grabbing the back of head as I kept on. “I told you not to touch my sister, you just don’t listen.”

“Trin, I can hear the cops” Kara said as I punched her again for good measure before getting up to check on Kara who was now bent over in pain.

“Are you ok?”

“What do we do Trin?” Kara cried as I hugged her closely. “I’mma whoop her ass till the cops get here, and they gon’ take her ass back to jail,” I said trying to calm her down as Tia writhed on the floor in pain.

“She could get out again Trin! We can’t keep doing this! What do we need to do?!” Kara cried as I felt helpless. I knew what we needed to do for us all to have some peace, I just hoped Kara felt the same way.

 Grasping her chin, I made her calm down and look at me. “I’ll tell you what we do. We end it, Kara, you hear me? We end this shit once and for all, that’s what we do,” I said making sure she understood what I was saying.

As we both looked down at the gun in her hands, we knew what we had to do. “Ya’ll ain’t got the balls, don’t worry though, I’ll find a way back out,” Tia gloated as Kara put down the gun.

Kara’s POV

“Kara, what you doing?” Trin asked as I stood up trying to gather myself. “It has to look like an accident,” I mumbled not believing the words coming out of my mouth. I said it so low; I didn’t even know if Trin heard me or not.

“Let’s do it,” she said without hesitation as I nodded as we looked at each other knowing if we wanted this to truly be over Tia had to go.

I wanted no room for error or a trial.  Suddenly Trin attacked Tia again as I wiped my fingerprints off the gun and put it in the center of the floor.

I knew Tia would go for it and put her prints back on the weapon. “Stupid bitch!” Tia yelled trying to grab Trin by her hair, coming up short as Trin gripped her by the neck and threw her onto the dresser shattering the glass. “Trin now!” I yelled as she looked at me taking a step back as Tia crawled towards the gun and grabbed it.

“Don’t move,” Tia gasped trying to point the gun at Trin but couldn’t focus. Trin had rocked her and she was unsure of her surroundings. I managed to sneak behind Tia as she stood up preparing to try to attack Trin with the gun. Quickly I grabbed her from behind extending her arms in the air as the gun went off again.

“Trin now!” I screamed as Trin ran towards us.

Jey’s POV

“Uce, there’s the cops,” Jimmy said pointing at the three cop cars surrounding Rebecca’s house. “Thank god!” Roman cried as we jumped out trying to get closer.

“Hey, we got a situation, now stay back,” a cop said as felt myself losing it. “My wife is in there and ya’ll need to get her out or I’ll do it my damn self!” None of us giving a damn about the storm at the moment as the rain seemed to be falling even harder than it had been all morning.

“No, no, no, Kara! Trin!” Roman yelled as I looked up to see Kara, Trin, and Tia tussling over a gun on the small balcony. One of the cops was trying to get a clear shot but Kara was in the way.

Tia suddenly lost her footing, going over the railing still holding on to Kara. “Kara, No!” I cried as Kara cried out.

“Pull Trin!” Kara yelled as Trin tried to pull them both up but this crazy bitch started laughed trying to pull Kara over the rail with her. “It’s over Kara!”

“Shoot her fuckin’ ass!” I screamed as Roman, and I tried to get past the cops.

“Let go, Tia!”  Kara screamed as Trin held on to her tight, trying to pull her back as the rain continued to bombard us all.

“I know ya’ll seeing this shit, she trying to kill’em both! Shoot her ass, what ya’ll waitin’ for?!” Jimmy pleaded as it seemed to be a tug of war with Trin having a tight grip on Kara, and Tia trying to pull her over the railing with her.

“I’m taking you with me bitch! You don’t get a happy ending!” Tia screamed. “Shoot her ass!” I yelled my eyes bouncing between Trin struggling to keep a grip on Kara and Tia’s joy at Kara’s pain.

Seeing Kara’s belly pressed up against the railing as she cried out in pain was all I could take. My wife and my child were hurting, and nobody was gon’ stop me from getting to them.

“Bite her ass Kara!..... Is ya’ll gon’ do something or not?! You know what? Move out the fuckin’ way!” I yelled, pushing through the cops and running inside as Roman blocked their path.

As I made my way in the house, past the EMT’s working on Rebecaa, I heard a blood curdling scream and a huge thud.

“Help us!” I heard Trin scream as I took the back steps two at a time trying to get to them busting in the room and seeing the wreckage. I knew a war had taken place in here and I knew Trin had held it down for Kara.

“I- I- Its….. It’s over,” Kara sobbed as I breathed a sigh of relief seeing my wife curled up in Trins arms as they held each other tight sobbing.

“It’s over, sis.” Running over to them I did the only thing I could and that was hold them both in my arms. It really was over…It was finally over.

“I am so sorry I left you, I should have followed my gut,” I cried as Kara shook her head. “You’re here now and you couldn’t have known baby.”

“I was so fuckin’ scared, Kara I had to get to you.”

“We’re ok.”

“Is Logan, ok?” Trin and Kara asked at the same time as I smiled at them. “Yea, she’s fine. She did everything ya’ll told her to do and got help.”

“I knew she would, is my mom, ok?”

 “Yea, the EMT’s are working on her,” I whispered as Kara nodded, wincing in pain.

“Are you good?” I asked rubbing her stomach as she groaned.

“Yea, I’m good but I’m in labor.” Kara hissed trying to breathe through an apparent contraction.

“Wait what!!”

Roman’s POV

She was dead, Tia was finally out of our lives and I felt bad at the relief that filled my body as they covered her up with a sheet. Logan was free of her, we all were free of her.

“Daddy!”  

Nothing ever sounded so sweet than to hear her voice. Smiling, I turned just in time to catch her in my arms. “Daddy you here!” She yelled as I cried, holding her close. “Daddy is here baby, and I’m so glad you ok Lo Lo.” I said walking down the driveway, and away from the crime scene. Last thing I wanted was for Logan to be traumatized seeing her mother’s dead body under a white sheet.

I know she didn’t know her well but that wasn’t something a four-year-old should have to see. Thankfully the rain had finally stopped for the moment.

“Tee Tee save me daddy.”

“I know baby, I know. ..Thank you, Ms. Nelson,” I said giving her a hug as she scoffed. “No need, this little one is everyone in this neighborhood’s grandbaby. You ain’t never gotta worry when she’s here.”

“I still can’t thank you enough.”

“Gram hurt daddy,” she said pointing as the EMT’s loaded Rebecca in the ambulance as we moved to the side of the road to let another ambulance in.

“Yes, she is but the EMT’s are taking care of her. I don’t want you to be scared,” I said as Jimmy embraced us both. Before running to meet Trin as she came out of the house.

“Jurdy!” she screamed jumping in his arms as he held her close. “Don’t ever do this to me again,” I faintly heard him say they cried together. Where was Kara?

A few seconds later I saw the other EMT wheel Kara out on a stretcher with Jey holding her hand coaching her through a contraction.

“No way,” I said as Trin smiled. “Yes way….Kara’s in labor,” she said giving Logan and I a hug.

“Tee Tee be a mommy?” Logan asked as Trin kissed her on the check. “Yea sweetie, your Tee Tee is about to be a mommy.”

---

Pensacola General Hospital

Jey’s POV

“Come on baby you got it, just bear down.”

 “I can’t, wait I can’t push!” Kara screamed laying back on the bed as I wiped her forehead.

"Kara, the baby’s head is almost out. On your next contraction I need you to take a deep breath, bear down and push with all you got," Dr. Rivers instructed. “No, I wanna take a nap. Tag you it, you take over, Jey,” I cried as Jey gently kissed me.

“If I could, I would baby, but only you can do this. I know you can do this, and I’m right here wit you.”

“I know and I love you.”

 I love you more, now let’s meet our baby. I bet he or she has your beautiful eyes.”

“And your nose,” Kara whimpered as I kissed her forehead and then her lips once again for good measure.  “Let’s go Mrs. Fatu,” I encouraged as she grunted through another contraction pushing with all her might. “Look Kara, it’s the baby. Come on baby, keep pushing.” I had never seen anything so amazing.

“Ahhh! Get it out! Get it out!” Kara screamed, and finally after ten hours of labor the most beautiful sound I have ever heard filled the room.

“Congratulations, it’s a boy!”

His tiny wails bringing forth my own tears without shame as they placed our son on Kara’s chest.

“He’s so beautiful, look at him Jey,” Kara cried as I fell in love all over again with her, and our son…. We have a son “I love you so much… I love ya’ll so much.” I cried just full and so happy as I kissed my wife and son.

“We love you too, daddy.” I don’t know how Kara knew, but I really needed to hear that. I had almost lost them both today and I just really needed to hear it.

“What are we gon’ name him?” I asked as Kara looked at me and smiled.

“How about after his dad?” she asked as I felt like my heart was about to explode. “Joshua? Like you really want to name him Joshua?” I asked as she nodded placing him in my arms.

“Yea, I can’t think of any better name…Can you?” She whispered reaching up and wiping my tears.

“Joshua, daddy loves you very much and I promise you and ya’ ma gon’ have the best of everything,” I promised as he opened his eyes and looked me.

“He’s looking at me Kara, and he looks just like me,” I said my voice breaking. “I know baby, I know.”

__

Roman’s POV

“Ms. Regina, can we go eat?” Logan asked as Regina scooped her up in her arms. “Of course, you deserve a hero’s dinner after what you did today, lil lady,” she said as Logan gave her a hug.

“Thank you for taking her,” I said as Regina gave me a chaste kiss on the lips. “You stay here and find out about Rebecca, I got Logan.”

I felt thankful, thankful that Rebecca and Kara had a plan in case Tia came back. Thankful for Regina coming into my life and loving Logan. These last five months just kind of hit me out of the blue. I wasn’t looking for anything or anyone and up pops Regina.

Very headstrong, has her own business and she puts my ass in my place when I need it. She met Logan last month and since then they have been joined at the hip. “You want to join them, Bill?” I asked as shook his head.

“Nah, I’m ok. I mean we’re on the outs, but I need to be here to make sure the old bat is ok,” Bill said as I chuckled to myself.

“Ok, I see your point.” I said spotting the doctor heading towards us.

“Oh, I know him…Tim how is she?” Bill asked shaking the doctor’s hand.

“She’s good, we got the bullet, and it didn’t hit any main arteries. She’s in recovery but will definitely have to take it easy for awhile.”

“Thank you so much, and we will make sure she does just that,” Bill said as I looked up and saw Jey coming from labor and delivery.

“How is Kara?” I asked as he smiled pulling out his phone. “She’s good and so is our son.” He said showing me a picture of Kara and the baby.

“A boy…How about that,” I said smiling. Kara looked so happy. “Tell her I’m happy for ya’ll.” Jey nodded, giving Bill his phone.

“There’s my boy,” Bill gushed as Jey beamed with pride. He was going to be a great dad and husband to Kara. That much I knew, and I wished them well.

“How is Rebecca?” Jey asked as Bill scoffed. “That old bat is tough as nails, she’ll be ok,” he said as Jey laughed. “Well, that’s good to hear, Kara was worried.”

“Tell her that her mama has eight lives left,” Bill said as I shook my head.” I will even though she gon’ wonder why in so many words you calling her mama a cat.”

“I prefer the term bitch in heat, but enough about that. What did the cops say?” Bill asked as Jey smiled. “No charges for Kara and Trin, it was self-defense.”

“Thank god, last thing we needed was another trial,” I said as Bill and Jey agreed. It was over…It really was finally all over.

Kara’s POV

Watching Trin with my son, I knew I couldn’t have asked for a better sister or aunt for my child. She took control and kept me grounded. Geez, I can still hear Tia’s body hitting the ground.

“Jey’s coming, I saw him push pass the cops. It’s now or never, let her ass go,” Trin whispered as I screamed for good measure making it seems as if Tia was slipping.

The look of shock on her face as I let her go was things instant karma is made of. She knew she was about to meet her end and the only thing she could do was scream.

Closing my eyes, I cringed hearing her body hit the ground bellow as Trin pulled me back in the room as we collapsed on the floor in an exhausted, thankful heap.

“Trin, thank you,” I cried as she shook her head engulfing me in a hug. “Don’t thank me….We did what we had to do.”

We walked away with some bumps and bruises, but the most important thing is that Tia is gone.  She’s gone and can’t hurt the people we love anymore.

“Trin-”

“Don’t say it Kara…It’s ok,” she whispered placing Joshua back in my arms.  

“But we-”

“Did nothing wrong, and the cops agree. That’s why there were no charges filed.”

“I know, I just hate I had to involve you in my mess.”

“I told you a long time ago you my sister, and I meant that.”

“Trin, I’m just-”

“Overthinking, when you should be enjoying my nephew,” she said as I smiled looking down at my son.

“To the grave,” I whispered extending my pinky out as she chuckled. “To the grave,” she said as we pinky promised to never talk about what happened again. After I fed Joshua and put him down I noticed Trin on her phone.

"What's got you smiling?" I asked climbing back in bed.

"Dear brother posted the baby, let me comment," Trin said full of excitement.

"Glad he didn't post me, I look a mess."

Girl, shut up, you look as beautiful as ever," she scolded giving me a hug.

 In the end, I guess I really was my sister’s keeper after all…And I didn’t mind it at all.

Trin was my sister in every way that mattered, and I would always have her back like she had mine.

-----

Four Years Later

Pensacola Pediatric and Internal medicine

Kara’s POV

“I want to thank you all for coming today as we get ready for our grand opening next week. I want you all to know that without you all there is no me. Thank you all for loving and supporting me.”

The happy faces of my family as I stood in front of my first practice is something I will never forget. Residency was hard but the completion and certification was well worth it.

“Hey lil man,” I whispered picking up Joshua as Jey put his arm around Logan making sure she was ok. “Mama, we eat now?” Joshua asked as I sighed. “In a few minutes we will eat lunch, ok?”

 His little pout as he laid his head on my shoulder making me smile. “Tee Tee, this is so neat,” Logan said giving me a hug. "Thank you sweetie."  Logan just turned eight a few weeks ago and growing up so fast and is already an amazing young lady.

 After Tia’s death, I felt responsible but every time I looked at this beautiful little girl, I knew. I knew we made the right decision for her, and I would always be there for her and so would Trin.

She also had Regina who has been a huge bright light in her life as well. She was good for Roman, and Logan. Hopefully one day he will take that step and try marriage again.

“Are you staying with us tonight, Logan?” I asked as Roman smiled at Regina. I knew he was loving the possibility of them having some alone time.  

“Yes, I wanted to spend the night if it was, ok? Is uncle Jey still grillin’?”

“Yea, I am, and you can stay whenever you want Lo,” Jey said hugging her as she smiled. “Thanks, uncle Jey.” Logan always relished in the attention and love that Jimmy and Jey showered upon her and I can’t say that I blame her. They loved her dearly and she loved them.

“Well, you can get Janiya too while you at it,” Trin said pointing at her three-month-old daughter, who currently had her father wrapped around her little finger speaking baby talk to her.

“Uh, no that baby is spoiled and gon’ holla for Jimmy all night. No ma’am, we pass until she gets a little older sis,” I said as Trin shrugged her shoulders. “It ain’t me, it’s him. See what you did Jimmy?”

“Aye, get off my back. It’s our first one,” Jimmy said smiling at his daughter.

“I guess you get a pass.. You look so cute being in Daddy mode,” Trin teased as my mother gave me hug. “I’m proud of you baby,” she whispered as I held her tight. “And I’m proud of you.”

“Ya’ll proud of me too, right?” my dad asked, jumping in our hug as we laughed. “Yes, we are very proud of you too, dad.”

My parents never got back together, but they are nice to each other and survive our family get togethers. That’s a plus for me.

“Ok, can I love on my wife now?” Jey asked, tapping my dad on the shoulder. My dad couldn’t get out of the way fast enough for me as I jumped into my husband’s arms.

“ I love you so much and I'm proud of you,” he whispered as I smiled truly happy that I had did everything I set out to do. Everything had been worth it, and a new journey was beginning for us.

"I love you more and like I told you, we did this together." I reassured him as my mother picked up Joshua.

"I was just about to pick him up Rebecca."

"Tani, you snooze, you lose. And how bout you finally admit that you don't hate me as much as you used too?"My mother asked as Tani rolled her eyes. Shaking my head I buried my head in Jey's neck.

"I can admit it, doesn't mean I have to like it."

"Please, you love sharing grammy duties with me."

"Them two a trip," Jey said shaking his head at their exchange. It's never boring, I can tell you that much.

"Think we should tell'em they're going to have another baby to spoil in a few months?" I asked as Jey smiled at me.

"Nah, they can wait a few more weeks. I ain't ready to share you just yet."

"Agreed, we need some peace and quiet for awhile."

"Damn, we really made it here,huh?" he asked still in somewhat shock, caressing my face. "Yea baby, we really made it."

The end.

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[yall-batman-fanfic]

Absolute Batman: Grit & Grime | Bruce Wayne/Batman x OC!Magician [Part 1]

Synopsis: After the events of The Zoo, Batman finds himself with another case that is far different from the usual things he’s been working on. One that involves magic.

Warnings: Graphic description of violence and blood.

Notes: This story is inspired by the setting of Absolute Batman but does not follow the timeline/storyline accurately.

Absolute Batman: Grit & Grime | Bruce Wayne/Batman x OC!Magician [Part 1] Absolute Batman: Grit & Grime | Bruce Wayne/Batman x OC!Magician [Part 2]

~ Lazarus Corp Research Facility, Somewhere in Nevada, USA ~

The bodies were shredded to the point that no technology can identify them. Not even blood samples with everything—rather, everyone mixed up on the floor. If given a best way to describe the scene before them, Sam Lane would say a blender did all of this. Everything and everyone was just all over the place. The once white and glass walls, the squeaky clean medical equipment were all covered with blood and guts and bone, and a couple of shards that were made from the suits they wore and the weapons they used.

They tried to fight it, Sam thought as he looked at the cracks on the glass and walls made by bullets, but can man-made weapons defeat an anomaly such as Subject 33?

“Oh god,” Sam heard one of his men gasp. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Do not add your DNA to the crime scene,” Sam told the man. “Get him out of here.”

“Yes, sir.”

The automatic door closed behind him and Sam was left alone there once again.

Subject 33, he thought again.

He didn’t know much of Subject 33 other than the fact it was a special research conducted by the founder himself, Ra’s Al Ghul. The whole team were handpicked by their boss and were given high-level security passes that not even he—a ranking officer—has access to it.

But Adam Royce did.

Not surprising considering Adam Royce is—like Subject 33—a special case. Recruited by the founder himself, Adam Royce didn’t go through the whole selection process to get a job in Lazarus Corp. This was given to him without a second thought, and he’s proven himself to be deserving of it too.

A decorated war hero—but the system let him down and he would have gone to a darker road ahead if Ra’s al Ghul had not come to him with a job offer.

“Captain Lane.”

Sam was stunned to find the face of Lazarus Corp standing at the door, dressed in his usual suit, accompanied by his daughter, Talia Al Ghul. “Sir, what are—I was told you were rushed to the Pits!”

That was an understatement, from what Sam heard, Ra’s al Ghul was in this very room when the incident happened.

“And like before, I have been reborn, Captain Lane.” said Ra’s. A simple gesture made towards Talia, and the woman stepped forward, not caring if her heels will get soaked with blood, and handed a tablet to Lane. “Your assignment. With the events that happened here, the retrieval of Subject 33 is imperative. I do hope your relations with the target will not pose as a challenge in this.”

Relations? Sam thought, but as soon as he swiped the assignment document he realized what the al Ghuls meant. 

Mission Target: Royce, Adam James

Mission Prep: Lethal

“Captain Royce, sir?” Sam asked. “I don’t understand… I thought he’s…” one of the unfortunate soldiers to be in the crime scene. His blood mixed with the others in there.

Talia stepped forward and swiped the tablet again, this time showing the CCTV footage that happened in the cell. There were the scientists wearing scrubs, guards armed by the door and the glass window, and—

A little girl?

Sam had to look closer to check if what he was seeing was right, and no matter how many times he zoomed the footage his eyes were correct. That was a little girl, head shaved, strapped to the surgery bed. She showed signs of resistance as the scientists prepped the injection and placed the electrodes that monitored her heart, her brain activity, and her nervous system. All of the monitors were spiking, fast heart rate, brain activity showed panic, and then her nervous system looked like it was burning with fire. Everything was going wrong. And the scientists can see it too, so they tried sedating the girl. Then…

The door opened. Adam Royce, Sam identified him when one of the scientists said “Captain Royce, what are you doing here?”

Adam said nothing, he only looked at them then shot his gun at the scientist’s head. The man was fast, had no hesitation and he could have gotten all of them if it weren't for the dead switch placed on their uniform. Adam fell to the ground as the shock of the electrocution paralyzed him. 

Then all hell broke loose.

The guns held by the other soldiers exploded in their hands. The room shook violently, and the little girl got up from her bed—-Lane had no idea how the bindings were ripped off—and then boom.

It was like the room exploded along with the people inside aside from herself and Adam Royce who were protected from the splatter of blood and guts, and the shards of glass and debris. The next was easy to guess—Adam took the girl and they ran out of the room.

“Subject 33 was a little girl?” Sam said, glaring at the Al Ghuls.

“Do not let appearances fool you, Captain,” said Talia. “Subject 33 is more dangerous than you think.”

“She’s a little girl! What were you doing with her anyway? What does Lazarus Corp want from a little girl!”

“Did you see the footage?” Ra’s spoke this time. “Everything that happened here came from that little girl. Lazarus Corp found Subject 33 after she did the same thing in her last place of residence killing eighteen people, Captain. Eighteen were dead and all is because of this little girl who has no knowledge of her power. We were studying her to understand her and find a way to contain her power.”

“That’s not what Lazarus Corp does,” Sam scoffed.

“Lazarus Corp is a multinational megacorporation who has dedicated its funding for research, and human evolution is one of them. This little girl would have gone to far worse conditions if we hadn’t taken her. Your mission is to retrieve her from that traitor, Adam Royce and bring her back where she will be safe!”

Everything seems to line up, Sam knew—despite the news of employee exploitation and extreme capitalism—that Lazarus Corp has always been the center of scientific research for the betterment of human life. They have been selling tear-drop vials of the Lazarus Pit for millions of dollars to keep eternal youth. They have also been contracted by the government to do research to better the agriculture production in the dying lands around them. 

But Adam.

Sam couldn’t figure out how Adam fits in all of this.

He tried to remember if Adam mentioned anything about Subject 33 but nothing. Adam followed the rules, he knew the importance of high level security clearance, he knew best not to talk or even give hints about Subject 33…

But there was this one time. That time when they were having coffee, he remembered what Adam said: There is something wrong about this place.

He brushed it off then with a joke saying: A multimillion dollar corporation exploiting its employees for money. Yeah there is but it’s like the others out there. It just so happens we get better pay here.

Who would spend so much money for the type of security they have? Sam even recalled Adam saying their private army can beat the country’s very own army with the muscle, the tech, and the training they have here. The al Ghuls only take the best of the best.

The call of his name had Sam brought back from his reverie. 

“I don’t understand,” Sam began. “Why would Adam.”

“You have your mission, Captain. There is no need to ask questions,” said Talia.

“With all due respect but this is Adam Royce—he wouldn’t, I don’t understand why.”

“Royce must have gotten blackmarket deals, human trafficking? Who knows. What matters is we get Subject 33 back. And you can deal with Royce with extreme prejudice. Understand?”

In other words, it’s best he doesn’t ask any questions at all.

Corporate were the brains, they were the guns. Corporate points, they shoot.

“Of course. I’ll handle it.”

~ Sixteen Years Later | Gotham City, New Jersey ~

The vehicle was the most inconspicuous there was, but Alfred Pennyworth thought if the muffler were to make another racket it would beat the whole idea of not catching attention. As soon as the engine was turned off, Alfred let out a sign of relief—silence filled the air again. Rather, as silent as Gotham can be: distant police sirens, crime, and the possibility of the Batman doing his work. From the car, a man came out, he was tall with a muscular build of a boxer, his head shaved with a clean cut at the right side—one would think it was purposely made but Alfred knew what a scar from a grazed bullet looked like.

The man nodded Alfred's way in greeting, but before he joined him, he leaned down to the passenger’s seat and spoke in a soft and hushed tone. The only thing Alfred heard was, “Keep an eye out. The gun’s in the glove compartment, don’t use it unless you need to. ‘Ight? Good girl. I won’t be long.” He reached in to mess with the passenger’s hair, which Alfred saw from the strands that peaked out of her bonnet were red.

They entered the safehouse and closed the door after.

“Are you sure it’s safe to leave your girl out there?” Alfred asked.

“She’s tougher than she looks. Long time hasn’t it? When was the last time we saw each other?” 

Alfred chuckled. “Ninety-nine, Budapest. Before you joined that corrupt man in the desert. Good to see you again, old chap.”

“It’s good to see an old friend.”

They sat on the chairs in the room. Alfred offered him a pint, he accepted. 

“When you called, you made two of each for these requests—no questions asked,” Alfred gestured to the envelope packet he placed at the table. “May I ask now? Who’s the girl, Adam?”

Adam Royce opened the packet and reached to retrieve two state IDs, credit cards, a bank account, a driver’s license, and other personal identifications they would need for their new life; and two phones. The names were close to the truth but far enough from it to keep their pursuers away from their trail. Sixteen years but Adam won’t be complacent. Not until they were put down. 

But Sam’s exact words were: The man has time on his side. He won’t stop until he kills you and gets that girl.

“Thank you, Alfred,” Adam hid the IDs back inside the envelope. “You’re right, considering we’re intruding on your lovely stay here in this shit-place.” Alfred snorted in amusement. “It’s only right that I tell you about the trouble we might be bringing in the future.”

“Oh, good, should I expect bullets raining or is it RPGs?” 

“All of it… you were right about them—about Lazarus—they’re nothing but shitty corpos who’d done nothin’ but worship their greedy god. It just so happens that god is real and he’s after my arse and my little girl’s.”

“Who is that girl, Adam?”

“You saw her name, you made the ID.”

Alfred glared at him. “Who is she?”

Adam hesitated, silence came to the room for a heartbeat. Then another and another. Then he spoke. Not in English, but in Gaelic—Irish—and said, “She’s a Ghost.”

“Ghost?” Alfred replied in the same language.

“No records of her existence can be found.”

“Nothing new, we dealt with it before.”

“Nothing like this. No records of birth, parents aren’t on any system, blood words can’t be identified either. Lazarus found her in the fire, unharmed. She shows abilities like that boy in Kansas.”

“Alien?”

“No. Ancient. Druid.”

Alfred scoffed a laugh this time. “Druid. Are you hearing yourself right now?”

“I’m not joking. I’ve seen it. Even Lazarus scientists can’t explain her energy signatures. You said those corpos are hiding something bad, well there she is. They want to harness the same thing as that kid in Kansas but more powerful. Her.”

Hearing the seriousness in his tone, Alfred saw it was no laughing matter. He looked into Adam’s eye and there he knew, the man was not mad nor was he delusional, he looked like a man who has seen Hell and has gone back. What did Lazarus do to him?

“What did you do?” Alfred asked.

“They were using her as a test subject. Hurting her. Then they planned to harvest her organs and her blood to study her—” Adam paused as the memories of watching through the glass poke and prod on that little girl as she begged them to stop. “I couldn’t stand it,” he switched back to English. “It was  inhumane. She’s just a girl.”

“They might have a good reason—”

Adam slammed his fist on the table. “What good reason is there to harm a child? An innocent child? Have you forgotten what they made us do in the war? They saw her as a thing, not a human being. Not a child.”

He’s crossed a line. “I apologize… but Adam, whatever she is, whatever power she has… Can you control it?”

“We left the facility sixteen years ago and have been on the run since. The only times she’s lost control were just a handful of incidents. She’s gotten better at controlling her power.”

“Why Gotham? Why not the mountains where you’ll be safer. Alone.”

“The last time we did that, they found us and we had nowhere to go but to jump off the cliff. We wouldn’t have survived if it weren’t for her powers,” Adam let out a heavy breath. “She needs a life, Alfred. I’ve given her all that she needs to know, educated her in ways we were but that’s not enough. I could see in her eyes that she wants to live life. Not in isolation but be part of all of this.”

“I understand. But why this shitty place? There are plenty of other places you could go to.”

Adam chuckled. “Last I checked, Gotham is the only place they have no hold on and that’s thanks to the syndicates and that Batman vigilante. Did you meet him?”

Alfred only chuckled as an answer, Adam took it as a yes. “Shit, that good?”

“Good enough. This won’t be an easy life. Corruption runs through this city’s roots. Just last week, we had trouble with the Party Animals. If it weren’t for Batman, Sionis would have had this city. I can’t say this is the safest place to raise your girl.”

“Trust me, mate. This is the best we could find right now. Gotham’s crime and corruption is what keeps it backwards. We can hide here. No one will find us here. And she’s not so little anymore, she’s all grown up now… More reason why it’s time we settle down.”

They finished their pint, and Alfred gave Adam a couple of biscuits for his passenger and a few words as they left the safe house. In the car, Alfred saw the girl sit up and look at them with curiosity, and for a moment he was sure he saw her eyes shine gold too. Or maybe that was just the reflection of the streetlights.

“You’ll find the address for the house there. Already paid in full with the money you wired. And it’s stocked with groceries that would last you a week—courtesy of me.”

“Thank you, old friend,” Adam embraced him. “We should meet again someday, you can finally meet your goddaughter.”

Alfred barked a laugh. “Goddaughter is it? I didn’t know she was mine. See you around, James.”

~ * ~

The girl waited for Adam until he came back from his meeting. When we entered the car, he immediately tossed the packet to her and some biscuits and sweets for her to eat. Good, she’s been starving. 

“What are these?” She asked.

“Our new identities,” Adam answered as he drove out of the alleyway. “Give me one of those, would you?” The girl opened the wrapper and fed him a biscuit, shoving it into his mouth. With a full mouth, he asked, “What’s the address?”

“What address?” 

“Check one of our IDs.”

Reaching in, the girl took one of the IDs and even with a flashlight she could see the thing and read the information there. The ID she got had her photo with the name Vivian Claire Pryor. 

“My name’s Vivian?” She asked.

“Well, that’s what you said your name was,” Adam turned to her. “Or did you lie to me all this time and I’ve been calling you some random name then?”

Vivian chuckled. “No, that’s my name… but I thought you were going to give us different names.”

“You like the name, aye?”

“Yeah, I like my name. Mum gave me that name. But the Pryor…”

“We stick with the truth with what you told me. As far as Lazarus knows, there is no Vivian Pryor in their records. From now on, we live with the truth, a few lies like where we came from but the truth.”

“But yours says your name is James Phillip Pryor. You’re lying there.”

“Don’t worry about me, love. What matters is you’re happy. Now, the address. Come on, I wanna scout that place before we move in later today. Then once we settled in, we could look around town, maybe get some pizza, I heard there’s this place called Little Italy.”

Vivian couldn’t stop her smile, “Right. Our new place is at…”

~ * ~

Despite his nightly activities, Bruce Wayne woke up early. Too early if anyone was asked, but that was just how he operated. Little to no sleep and still gets up bright and early to go on a run, work out at Waylon’s Gym, and head back for breakfast before going to work. That morning, as he made his morning run in the cold Gotham air, he did his usual patrol route, making sure everything was in order. Or he might find something that Batman could use later on. A lead on a possible case. 

Since the defeat of Roman Sionis and the Party Animals, Gotham has been quiet. Not surprising since the re-elected Mayor Hamilton Hill placed the city in Martial Law to get the Batman but that doesn’t mean crime stops. 

With the spare keys Waylon left him, Bruce went to the gym and started his routine. He mainly focused on the bag than the weights, improving his agility, his speed with his punches and kicks, and each time he did so flashes of that day came. That time in the zoo. How his father saved their entire class from a gunman, and that same gunman would be the reason for everything in his life to just fall apart. 

“Maybe I should start paying you for taking the opening shift,” Waylon entered the gym with his pet snake. 

Bruce stopped his punches and caught the bag before it hit him. “What’s stopping you then?”

“Maybe if you started mopping the floor, opening the windows and getting us breakfast, I just might consider paying you for opening up the place,” Waylon chuckled. 

Waylon Jones, owner of the gym and Bruce’s childhood friend who has a liking towards exotic pets. Bruce never really understood why he liked them, that he would risk getting caught by the authorities by having Oz look into the blackmarket. If things were black and white, Bruce wouldn’t tolerate Waylon’s little hobby and Oz’s business, but the world isn’t black and white. As long as they weren’t hurting people, the Batman wouldn't mind turning a blind eye. 

“Finished?” Waylon asked.

“Didn’t see the time. I gotta get to work,” Bruce started unwrapping the bandages on his fists. 

“Come on, man. At least have some coffee!” 

Finished with the bandages, he threw everything in his bag and went to grab the mop and rag, and cleaned the spot he worked out on. “I gotta head out. I promised Ma I’d get us breakfast today. She had a long night at work.”

“Alright… but what about you, no long nights this time?”

Bruce put back the mop and rag in the closet and went to his bag. “I’ll see you around, Waylon.”

“Say hi to your mom for me, would you?”

“I will.”

The place he would go to for a good takeaway breakfast was a diner in Parkway, not far from where his mom worked and not far from Waylon’s Gym either. It was a 24/7 place, so he wasn’t surprised to see a couple of cars already parked at the front and a few customers inside, two of them were even GCPD right in the middle of their shift. 

He was greeted by the waitress just as he approached the counter. She poured him a cup of coffee—free as long as you buy something there—and took his order.

“Comin’ right up,” she winked at him.

“Excuse me,” one of the customers approached the counter. Maybe it was second nature now but at a glance Bruce was able to ID the young woman leaning on the counter. Red hair, white hoodie under a denim jacket that’s seen better days, cargo pants too, then there’s her shoes—Bruce thought she might need a new pair because this one was being held by duct tape—probably in her twenties or younger, her height probably 5’4”, and not a usual face in Gotham. 

The waitress didn’t hear her.

He wasn’t surprised, her voice was a little too soft to be heard.

She tried calling again, a little louder this time, but the waitress was too busy talking to the cook through the small window. She sighed and was about to take a deep breath and call out again—

“Excuse me, Ma’am,” Bruce called for the waitress. His voice was a tad bit loud, it made the woman and the waitress jump. “I think she wants a refill.”

The waitress sighed, her face showing annoyance as she faced the woman and said, “We only do two refills per order. Read the sign.” She pointed at the sign on the wall.

The woman blushed in embarrassment. “Sorry, I didn’t see that.”

“Come on, Jules, give the kid a break,” called out one of the police detectives, teasingly. “We gotta be understanding to the needy.” 

Bruce was no fool, he knew bullying and he hated it. And he could see that the woman could see through those officers’ laughs and attempt to help. It was because of how the father and daughter looked, they were in dire need of new clothes. Behind him, Bruce could hear the shifting of someone in the booth’s couch. He glanced over his shoulder and turned to the table where he first saw sitting in a booth with a man who was old enough to be her father. The man was ready to get up, and those fists said he was one bad asshole away from causing trouble.

“Give her my refills,” Bruce told the waitress, shocking her. The two GCPD Detectives stopped their laughter.

“I just need the one,” the woman said.

“You both can have it.”

He glanced back at the man’s direction and saw him ease up a bit.

The waitress sighed and muttered, “Comin’ right up.”

The woman handed the mug she held then went to get her father’s from their table and waited for the refill. When it was done, the waitress turned her back to her and went to the kitchen where she won’t be bothered again. 

“Thank you,” the woman said to him and went back to her booth with her father.

The officers got up from their seats to pay for their meal. They stood a seat-distance from Bruce—on purpose, because he was the only one sitting there, they could have stood elsewhere.

“Tryin’ to be a hero, Wayne?” Said one of the detectives, who Bruce identified to be Detective Arnold John Flass. Bruce wasn’t shocked that the detective knew who he was considering his mother ran as Deputy-Mayor to James Gordon, but the two lost. Some say it was because of the Party Animals attack, but if you lived in Gotham long enough, you’d know this city was for Mayor Hill and those who put him there. Gordon and his mom never stood a chance against the corruption that ran through Gotham’s roots.

Bruce kept silent and continued to drink his coffee.

Best not to engage with them.

Keep his head down.

He should have done it earlier too but he can never stand bullies.

The waitress came back and put their money in the cash register. 

“I’ll see you around, Engineer Bruce Wayne,” Detective Flass said, his tone laced with mockery. “And to you two,” he guessed the detective was addressing the father and daughter. “Welcome to Gotham. If you’re just passin’ by, curfew starts at 10 PM. Best to be off before then.”

And they were gone, leaving the sound of the doorbell chiming after them. 

His order came and just as Bruce paid the waitress for his take-aways, the father and daughter too came to pay. The man handed fifty-dollars and told the waitress to keep the change. He turned to Bruce and nodded at him—it was an unspoken thank you.

“Come on, love,” he called for his daughter. He was British, Bruce noted his accent. It reminded him of that agent who came to Gotham and helped him take down Black Mask. Alfred Pennyworth.

When the woman passed him, he heard her whisper, “Thank you.”

She wasn’t British.

Nothing to be alarmed about, he thought. There are many cases of families not having the same accent or native tongues. She could be the man’s biological daughter who just grew up in America hence the American accent, or maybe she’s adopted.

He watched the father and daughter get in their car, as the father fixed his seat and the radio, Bruce saw the woman look at him but she tore her gaze and just looked out of the window. They drove away and he took note of their car’s license plate. Montana plates.

~ * ~

Returning home, Bruce greeted his mother good morning with breakfast already set for them both. After getting ready for work, they ate in their usual and comforting silence, with little talks about their plans for the day and interesting news in the neighborhood.

“Do you know about the apartment next door?” Martha mentioned. She was currently packing her son’s lunch. Despite being a twenty-four-year-old-man who is a successful Engineer, he still prefers if his mom makes him his lunch and leaves him notes. Well, the notes were really just a habit of hers since he was a kid going to school. She just likes leaving notes for Bruce, hoping it would lessen the brooding. He was a hulking man made of pure muscle, standing 6’6”. He needs to smile, else he’ll be scaring children.

Actually, he kind of reminds her of a story about a friendly giant.

“What about it?” Bruce asked, coming down the stairs already dressed for work.

“Well, turns out someone already bought it,” Martha handed him his lunch.

“Someone already did?” His brows furrowed. “I don’t remember anyone coming by to check the place.”

“The agent who sold it—you know, Sal—told me that someone just made a visit, made a tour, and right after a quick call, they signed the paperwork. The payment took a little longer than expected, but now the title has been transferred.”

“Should we expect neighbors anytime soon?” He needed to ensure his safety protocols wouldn't be compromised by the new movers. 

“Don’t know. Sal said he had a feeling that it’s just for investment because you saw the state of that place.”

“I did.”

If it was just for investment, then maybe he could move his operations there. It would be closer to home, a little risky but he can make things work. He can protect his mom even at night, when Gotham is quiet.

“But if we do have neighbors, we should welcome them… maybe we could give them a hand in fixing the place?” 

In other words, he should help out, offer his services. Bruce smiled. Always helping people, he thought as he closed the door after his mother stepped out of the house. He locked it with their key. “I’ll see what I can do, Ma.”

Martha smiled. “That’s my boy.”

~ * ~

Like the other days, before he went home, Bruce walked to the Zoo to visit that day that changed his life. The day that man killed his father, Thomas Wayne. An innocent man, a good father, a good husband, and a good teacher who did everything to make sure his students were getting the best opportunities there are. To let them see their potential. He didn’t see how it happened, but he heard it even when they were hidden with the bats, behind the metal doors, he heard the gunshots and his father’s painful cry before another shot then silence. 

It was there, under the colony of bats he knew his father was dead.

His visit to the zoo took longer than expected, so Bruce went straight home to meet with his mother, then he’ll head straight to work.

As came to their street in Crime Alley, he stopped on his tracks as he saw the familiar old car he saw his mother talking to two people standing by their home, and the car he saw in the diner earlier that had Montana plates. Now it had New Jersey plates.

“Oh, there he is! Bruce, come over, meet our new neighbors!” His mom beckoned him to get closer.

Taking a breath, Bruce approached their little gathering. He first bent down to kiss his mother’s cheek as a greeting, then faced their new neighbors. The father and daughter he encountered at the diner. But unlike earlier where they wore old and ratty clothes, the clothes they wore were decent—not new, if they wore new clothes it would be too obvious they bought their wardrobe just now. But if they got it from a thrift shop, it would show that they’ve owned it for a while now, and they’re just two people who moved to their new home. Not someone who's been on the road for a long time.

“Bruce, these are our new neighbors. James Pryor and Vivian Pryor—this is my son, Bruce.”

Bruce nodded. “Pleasure to meet you. Welcome to the neighborhood.”

“Thank you,” the father, James, shook his outstretched hand. He still had his British accent, so that wasn’t a cover. That was real. “Did I see you somewhere before?”

He was playing games, acting like he forgot, but Bruce could see that the man’s memory was sharp. He knew who he was. He knew of their encounter in the diner.

“We did, at the diner,” Bruce answered. “I remember because,” he gestured to the daughter, Vivian. “The red hair…”

Vivian only smiled. 

“Your son was gentleman, Ms. Wayne,” said James. “He helped out my Vee earlier when some rude waitress and cops were… well…”

Martha sighed. “I’m sorry your first encounter in Gotham wasn’t well. I know our city isn’t shiny or the best there is, but I promise you there are good things here too.”

As his mother and James spoke, Bruce’s gaze was on Vivian. Unlike earlier where she looked ragged, she looked cleaner now with her new and lighter shade clothes—khaki slacks, a blue jumper over a white collared shirt, her shoes were a huge improvement since they weren’t being held by duct tape and were now a pair of white sneakers. Then there was her hair, earlier it was just messily tucked under her jacket, now her long hair was pulled up to a ponytail, which lit up her face and let him see the long lashes of her eyes and how brown her irises were.

“We got this for you,” Vivian took the convenience store-bought doughnuts from the bag she held. “I told Dad we should at least get our new neighbors something.”

Bruce accepted the gift. “We should be the ones giving you gifts not the other way around.”

“I thought… I didn’t… never mind,” she whispered. 

“Need a hand with your bags?” He gestured to the duffle bag on the hood of the car. He took the heavy thing but then Vivian was quick to take it back. “I got it. Thanks.”

That bag wasn’t just holding clothes. He knew the feeling of a weapon inside the bag. The weight of it. To Bruce, that weight didn’t bother him since he lifts more, but to her he could see her struggling to keep it in her grasp. Her father saw it too and took the bag from her. 

“We should get settled in,” said James. 

“Of course! If you need anything—anything at all just knock on our door,” said Martha.

“Much appreciated.”

Vivian turned to Martha and smiled. “It was lovely to meet you both.” her gaze turned to Bruce, “I guess I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Bruce trailed off. “Thanks for the doughnuts.”

Her smile grew but she quickly hid it by heading inside her new home with her father. 

“They seem nice, don’t you think?” His mother spoke, breaking his gaze on their neighbor’s door.

“Yeah, they are.” But they’re hiding something. 

Too many secrets to say Gotham will be safe with them around.

“Vivian seems like a nice girl too—did you know she’s just around your age? Just two years younger.”

Bruce sighed and gestured to his mother to walk home. “They just moved in, Mom. At least let them settle in before you start anything.”

“And how come you didn’t tell me about the trouble you got into with the GCPD and the waitress?”

“It wasn’t trouble. I was just helping them out. Those detectives were being rude to them, so was the waitress.”

Martha sighed. “I think I might make something for them tomorrow—just to welcome them to the neighborhood.”

“You do that, Ma.”

Him? He’ll start his work and find something about the Pryors next door.

[warningsine]

what is the best way to get safer/more anonymous online

Ok, security and anonymity are not the same thing, but when you combine them you can enhance your online privacy.

My question is: how tech literate are you and what is your aim? As in do you live in a country where your government would benefit from monitoring private (political) conversations or do you just want to degoogle? Because the latter is much easier for the average user.

Some general advice:

Leave Windows and Mac operating systems and switch to Linux distributions like Fedora and Ubuntu (both very user friendly). Switch from Microsoft Office or Pages/Numbers/Keynote (Mac) to LibreOffice.

You want to go more hardcore with a very privacy-focused operating system? There are Whonix and Tails (portable operating system).

Try to replace all your closed source apps with open source ones.

Now, when it comes to browsers, leave Chrome behind. Switch to Firefox (or Firefox Focus if you're on mobile). Want to go a step further? Use LibreWolf (a modified version of Firefox that increases protection against tracking), Brave (good for beginners but it has its controversies), DuckDuckGo or Bromite. You like ecofriendly alternatives? Check Ecosia out.

Are you, like, a journalist or political activist? Then you probably know Tor and other anonymous networks like i2p, freenet, Lokinet, Retroshare, IPFS and GNUnet.

For whistleblowers there are tools like SecureDrop (requires Tor), GlobaLeaks (alternative to SecureDrop), Haven (Android) and OnionShare.

Search engines?

There are Startpage (obtains Google's results but with more privacy), MetaGer (open source), DuckDuckGo (partially open source), Searx (open source). You can see the comparisons here.

Check libRedirect out. It redirects requests from popular socmed websites to privacy friendly frontends.

Alternatives to YouTube that value your privacy? Odysee, PeerTube and DTube.

Decentralized apps and social media? Mastodon (Twitter alternative), Friendica (Facebook alternative), diaspora* (Google+ RIP), PixelFed (Insta alternative), Aether (Reddit alternative).

Messaging?

I know we all use shit like Viber, Messenger, Telegram, Whatsup, Discord etc. but there are:

Signal (feels like Whatsup but it's secure and has end-to-end encryption)

Session (doesn't even require a phone or e-mail address to sign up)

Status (no phone or e-mail address again)

Threema (for mobile)

Delta Chat (you can chat with people if you know their e-mail without them having to use the app)

Team chatting?

Open source options:

Element (an alternative to Discord)

Rocket.chat (good for companies)

Revolt.chat (good for gamers and a good alternative to Discord)

Video/voice messaging?

Brave Talk (the one who creates the talk needs to use the browser but the others can join from any browser)

Jami

Linphone

Jitsi (no account required, video conferencing)

Then for Tor there are various options like Briar (good for activists), Speek! and Cwtch (user friendly).

Georestrictions? You don't want your Internet Provider to see what exactly what you're doing online?

As long as it's legal in your country, then you need to hide your IP with a VPN (authoritarian regimes tend to make them illegal for a reason), preferably one that has a no log policy, RAM servers, does not operate in one of the 14 eyes, supports OpenVPN (protocol), accepts cash payment and uses a strong encryption.

NordVPN (based in Panama)

ProtonVPN (Switzerland)

Cyberghost

Mullvad (Sweden)

Surfshark (Netherlands)

Private e-mails?

ProtonMail

StartMail

Tutamail

Mailbox (ecofriendly option)

Want to hide your real e-mail address to avoid spam etc.? SimpleLogin (open source)

E-mail clients?

Thunderbird

Canary Mail (for Android and iOS)

K-9 Mail (Android)

Too many complex passwords that you can't remember?

NordPass

BitWarden

LessPass

KeePassXC

Two Factor Authenticators?

2FAS

ente Authenticator

Aegis Authenticator

andOTP

Tofu (for iOS)

Want to encrypt your files? VeraCrypt (for your disk), GNU Privacy Guard (for your e-mail), Hat.sh (encryption in your browser), Picocrypt (Desktop encryption).

Want to encrypt your Dropbox, Google Drive etc.? Cryptomator.

Encrypted cloud storage?

NordLocker

MEGA

Proton Drive

Nextcloud

Filen

Encrypted photography storage?

ente

Cryptee

Piwigo

Want to remove metadata from your images and videos? ExifCleaner. For Android? ExifEraser. For iOS? Metapho.

Cloak your images to counter facial recognition? Fawkes.

Encrypted file sharing? Send.

Do you menstruate? Do you want an app that tracks your menstrual cycle but doesn't collect your data? drip.

What about your sexual health? Euki.

Want a fitness tracker without a closed source app and the need to transmit your personal data to the company's servers? Gadgetbridge.

[lieutenantbatshit]

CHAPTER 21 - once you go in, there's no turning back (hwang in ho x reader)

>> MASTERLIST

previous chapter | next chapter

——

The atmosphere in the control room was thick with tension as the final preparations for the dry run commenced. You stood beside In-ho, both of you in your authoritative masks and dark uniforms, overseeing the screens that displayed every inch of the arena. This was a necessary step to test the mechanics, ensuring every trap and function worked seamlessly before the real games began.

“We proceed as scheduled,” In-ho’s voice was calm but firm. “The Front Man should have been here by now.”

Your eyes flicked to the empty chair that Gi-hun was supposed to occupy. A small frown formed beneath your mask, but you shook it off. There were more pressing matters at hand. “Begin the dry run.”

The order was relayed, and the countdown was initiated. The massive red doors to the arena creaked open, revealing a handful of test subjects—masked guards disguised as players, meant to simulate real conditions. The last game was about to begin.

“All systems online,” a masked technician announced.

The massive doll at the center of the arena, responsible for detecting motion, remained still. Its head did not rotate, its sensor lights did not flicker. The guards in their test-player disguises exchanged confused glances. You exchanged a look with In-ho, his posture stiffening.

“Check the wiring,” he ordered sharply.

One of the technicians frantically worked at his station, fingers flying over the keyboard. “The detection system isn’t responding! It was functional yesterday—”

Another alarm blared across the monitors as more systems began to shut down. The retractable floors beneath certain marked spots—a key feature for later rounds—remained locked in place. The automatic turrets that were meant to simulate eliminations did not fire. A critical command flashed on the screens: 

SYSTEM ERROR – CONNECTION LOST

“What the hell is happening?” Your voice came out sharper than intended, but the tension in the air was suffocating.

“Security breach in multiple areas,” another guard reported, voice shaking slightly. “But… nothing is physically damaged. It’s like the entire system is shutting down on its own.”

In-ho’s hand tightened into a fist, his knuckles ghostly white against his gloves. He turned to you, his voice dangerously low. “Where is the Front Man?”

A cold shiver ran down your spine. You turned to one of the nearest guards. “Find him. Now.”

The guard hesitated, then slowly stepped forward. “Sir… he is nowhere to be seen.”

Your heart thumped in your chest.

“What do you mean, ‘nowhere to be seen’?” In-ho asked, his voice devoid of patience.

“We checked his quarters. He’s not there. And… several guards are missing as well.”

Your breath hitched. The realization clawed at your mind like a cold hand gripping your throat.

Your conversation with Gi-hun and Jun-ho. The options they gave you.

n-ho’s voice came through again, harsh and unrelenting. “Seal off the exits. No one leaves the island.”

But before the command could fully register, another sound rang through the control room. A shrill, piercing alarm—one that sent the entire room into a frantic motion.

EMERGENCY MEETING CALLED – ALL OVERSEERS REPORT IMMEDIATELY

The red warning lights flashed violently against the steel walls, bathing everything in crimson. Your pulse pounded in your ears as the realization fully settled in.

Gi-hun was gone.

And something bigger than a mere malfunction was about to unfold.

——

You and In-ho make your way towards the conference room. Inside was thick with tension, the overhead lights casting harsh shadows on the long table where the overseers sat. The air was heavy, charged with suspicion and quiet rage. You and In-ho stood at the end of the room, backs straight, masking any sign of weakness. The red alarms still echoed faintly in the corridors outside, a constant reminder of the chaos that had begun to unravel.

One of the overseers, a man with a deep scar running across his jaw, slammed his fist onto the table. "Everything was running perfectly until now. And suddenly, the system crashes? The games malfunction? Guards go missing? And where is the Front Man?!" His sharp eyes drilled into yours. "You and In-ho were supposed to ensure that none of this happened."

Another overseer, a woman with ice in her voice, leaned forward. "The two of you were the only ones who had direct access to every security measure. And now, there's a breach. We have reason to believe this is an inside job."

"You’re accusing us?" In-ho's voice was dangerously calm, but there was an edge to it. His hand rested subtly at his side, close to his gun holster.

"You tell us," the scarred man hissed. "How do we know you haven’t been compromised?"

The room darkened as the monitors flickered, static crackling before returning to blank screens. The overseers grew restless, shifting in their seats, fingers twitching near their weapons.

Then came the final blow.

A different overseer, older but sharper than the rest, tilted his head. "The games have been exposed."

You exchanged a sharp glance with In-ho. The older overseer continued, his expression unreadable. "And you know what’s surprising? The world isn’t outraged. They’re obsessed. Demanding more. Calling for a massive televised event." He exhaled sharply, voice dripping with disdain. "It’s no longer just a secret bloodbath—it’s entertainment."

Murmurs rippled through the room. Some overseers looked disturbed. Others intrigued. But suspicion still lingered.

"And you think we had something to do with this?" In-ho asked, voice tight.

"It’s too convenient. The timing, the failures, the missing personnel." The scarred man leaned in. "The only ones who could have let this slip are the ones who had access to everything. You."

Then, the final nail in the coffin.

The same older overseer smirked. "And, of course… we know about the pregnancy."

Your blood ran cold as your body tensed. In-ho’s grip on his gun tightened. The way the older overseer’s lips curled ever so slightly sent a wave of unease through you.

"A child," the man mused. "What a complication that would be. A liability. Perhaps you’re both already thinking about an escape. Perhaps you’ve been compromised long before this."

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears as you felt the shift in the room—the rising hostility. A sharp click rang through the air, seeing guns drawn directly at you and In-ho.

Your breath hitched, but you forced yourself to remain still, your fingers curling into fists. One wrong move, and you’d both be riddled with bullets before you could even react.

"If you’re not with us, you’re against us," the scarred man growled. "And we don’t tolerate traitors."

Then, the first shot fired.

In-ho grabbed your wrist, yanking you down as the bullet shattered the glass panel behind you. A second later, the conference room erupted in gunfire. Overseers ducked for cover as you and In-ho sprinted toward the doors. You felt the air shift beside your cheek as a bullet barely missed you, embedding itself into the steel wall.

"Move!" In-ho barked, his grip on you firm as he led you into the hallway.

The moment you both crashed through the doors, In-ho pulled his gun and fired back, forcing the overseers to scatter for cover. "We have to get to the control room—now!"

Your pulse raced as your boots pounded against the cold floors. Behind you, the doors burst open, shouts echoing through the halls as the overseers pursued, their weapons raised. The emergency sirens blared louder now, blending with the chaos.

You weren’t just running from them. You were running for your life. 

For In-ho’s. 

For your unborn child.

And as another bullet whizzed past, nearly grazing your arm, you knew one thing for certain.

This wasn’t over yet.

Your mind raced as you tore down the hall, your pulse hammering against your ribs. The sharp stench of gunpowder clung to the air as you and In-ho moved in sync, your footsteps heavy against the cold steel floors. Bullets ricocheted off the walls, sparks flying in bursts of light as more guards poured in from the intersecting corridors.

In-ho moved ahead, his precision deadly. His gun fired in clean, methodical bursts, taking out guards with ease. You followed closely, your own weapon raised, firing at the figures blocking your escape. Bodies fell, the chaos swallowing their last gasps as the sirens blared louder, warning the entire facility of your defiance.

“We need to get out of this sector now!” In-ho shouted, his voice nearly drowned out by the endless alarms.

Your grip on your gun tightened as another group of guards stormed in from the left, their rifles aimed directly at you. Your reflexes took over, pulling the trigger, feeling the recoil as each shot landed with brutal precision. One guard lunged forward, and before you could react, In-ho stepped in front of you, his bullet meeting the man’s skull before he could even reach you.

A brief glance was exchanged between you and In-ho—nothing was said, but everything was understood.

Then a voice called out, stopping you both in your tracks.

“Over here!”

You snapped your head to the far end of the hallway. A figure stood there, barely visible through the flashing red lights. Then another voice joined in, a familiar one—Jun-ho.

“This way! Hurry!” he urged, motioning to a reinforced door behind him.

You and In-ho hesitated for a second. A second too long. More guards were closing in fast, their relentless gunfire forcing you both to duck behind a shattered console.

In-ho turned to you. “We don’t have a choice. We move now.”

You nodded, and without another word, both of you sprinted towards Jun-ho. He had already begun keying in a code on the panel beside the door, his fingers moving quickly, overriding the security locks. The moment you and In-ho were close enough, Jun-ho slammed the panel, and the heavy doors hissed open.

The moment you stepped inside, your breath hitched.

Gi-hun. Hyun-ju. Gyeong-seok. No-eul.

They were all there.

Gi-hun's eyes flickered between you and In-ho, his expression unreadable. Hyun-ju had a gun slung over her shoulder, her stance tense but prepared. Gyeong-seok and No-eul stood side by side, their hands twitching near their weapons, waiting for any sign of hostility. The air in the room was thick, the weight of past betrayals and alliances clashing in an unspoken war.

No one moved. No one spoke.

The sound of distant gunfire and the wail of the alarms were the only reminders that the war outside had not ceased. For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, you weren’t alone.

An alliance was forming again.

——

A tense silence filled the air as Jun-ho and In-ho locked eyes. It was as if the world around them had disappeared, the chaos and the blaring alarms fading into nothing but the weight of years lost between them.

Jun-ho took a slow step forward. His breathing was uneven, his expression unreadable. “Is it really you?” his voice was hoarse, filled with disbelief and something deeper—pain.

n-ho, for all his poise and control, looked shaken. His lips parted, but no words came out at first. He swallowed hard, his gun lowering slightly as if all the fight in him had drained away the moment he saw his brother standing there, alive.

“Jun-ho,” In-ho finally said, his voice quieter than anyone had ever heard it.

Jun-ho clenched his fists, his jaw tightening as he took another step. “You let me believe you were dead.”

In-ho exhaled sharply, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “I had to.”

“Bullshit!” Jun-ho snapped, his voice rising as years of grief, anger, and betrayal surfaced all at once. “You could have come back! You could have told me! Do you have any idea what I—”

Before Jun-ho could finish, In-ho closed the distance between them and pulled his younger brother into a tight embrace.

Jun-ho stiffened, his breath catching in his throat. His hands hovered in the air, unsure whether to push In-ho away or hold on to him like he had been wishing to do for years.

“I’m sorry,” In-ho murmured against his brother’s shoulder, voice breaking for the first time. “I’m so damn sorry, Jun-ho.”

Jun-ho squeezed his eyes shut, his fists clenching before he finally gave in, his arms wrapping around his brother in return. It was a brief moment of vulnerability, a reunion built on broken pieces, but it was real.

The others in the room stayed silent, watching the brothers reunite amidst the madness surrounding them.

After a moment, Jun-ho pulled away, wiping at his face quickly before looking at In-ho with newfound determination. “If you’re really sorry, then help me end this.”

In-ho hesitated, glancing at you for a brief second before turning back to his brother. He exhaled through his nose, then nodded. “We will.”

Gi-hun finally stepped forward, arms crossed as he surveyed the reunion. You smirked, glancing around at the group as your tone laced with purpose when you spoke up.

“So, what’s the plan?”

The silence hung heavy in the dimly lit room, only the distant echoes of gunfire and the blaring alarms breaking through. You stood among the others, feeling the weight of unspoken words pressing down on your chest. In-ho stood beside you, his face unreadable, though you could feel the tension in his stance.

Gi-hun took a slow breath, his fingers curling into fists before he finally spoke.

"The plan is simple," he began, his voice steady but laced with something deeper—calculated determination. "We take the organization down from the inside. We sabotage the games, expose their operations, and ensure that when the world watches, they see the truth."

Jun-ho crossed his arms, nodding slightly. "The system is already crumbling. The overseers are paranoid, the guards are scattered. With the world already watching, all we have to do is show them what’s really happening behind the scenes."

Gi-hun exhaled sharply. "But there was one part of the plan that’s changed."

You felt a sudden unease crawl up your spine.

"The original plan," Gi-hun continued, locking eyes with you and In-ho, "was to execute both of you."

The words hit like a punch to the gut. You barely had time to register it before the room shifted—Hyun-ju tensed, Gyeong-seok and No-eul exchanged wary glances, and Jun-ho's jaw clenched. In-ho, however, remained deathly still.

Gi-hun's gaze didn’t waver. "Before you decided to switch sides, you were still a threat. Both of you. The safest way to ensure this plan succeeded was to eliminate you before you could compromise it."

Your fingers twitched at your sides. You didn't realize how tight your fists had become.

"But," Gi-hun continued, "you chose differently. You decided to fight with us instead of against us. So, the plan changes."

You exhaled, steadying yourself. In-ho's hand brushed against yours—subtle, barely there, but enough for you to notice. When you looked at him, his eyes were focused ahead, but you could sense the turmoil beneath the surface.

"We do this together," Gi-hun said. "And we make sure no one ever has to go through this again."

The room fell into silence once more. The weight of everything—of every loss, every sacrifice—pressed down on all of you. Then, with a sharp inhale, he straightened.

“We take the control room first,” he stated, his voice firm. “The entire island runs on that system—every camera, every security lock, every broadcast. Once we have it, we control the narrative.”

Jun-ho nodded, arms crossed. “The overseers will have the backups, but if we move fast enough, we can cut them off before they get the chance to reboot. We leak everything. We let the world see the truth.”

Hyun-ju leaned against the wall, arms folded. “And then what? Even if the world sees it, we’re still trapped on this island. The guards will come down on us before we even have a chance to escape.”

Gi-hun turned to Gyeong-seok and No-eul. “That’s where you two come in.”

The two guards stiffened slightly at the attention. No-eul spoke first. “We’ve already mapped out the guard shifts and their blind spots. We can secure an exit route while the rest of you handle the control room.”

Gyeong-seok added, “The docks are heavily guarded, but we know the security rotation. If we time it right, we can take control of a transport boat before reinforcements arrive.”

In-ho listened in silence, his mask discarded, exposing a hardened expression. His presence alone was imposing—once the enforcer of the games, now a rogue piece in a collapsing empire.

“And the overseers?” he asked, voice low.

Jun-ho hesitated. “They won’t let this slide. They’ll do everything in their power to contain this before it reaches the outside world. We’re going to have to face them head-on.”

The tension in the air sharpened.

“Good,” In-ho finally said. His gaze flickered to you, then back to the group. “Then we don’t hesitate.”

You studied him, the man who once stood as the face of the system you were now trying to burn to the ground. There was a quiet fire behind his words, something deeper—maybe even regret.

Gi-hun let out a slow breath. “This is our only shot. If we fail, we die here.”

Everyone knew it, but no one backed down.

Gi-hun looked at each of you once more before gripping the pistol at his side. His fingers flexed over the cold metal before he exhaled sharply.

“Let’s end this.”

A brief silence occurred. Then, you nodded, meeting his gaze. “For those we lost.”

The words hung in the air, sealing the fate of what was to come.

No more games. No more survival.

Now, it was war.

——

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A/N: I hope y'all like the concept of their alliance forming once again, minus the other players who really had a higher chance of dying in the actual show (in my opinion though). The epilogue will be up in a few days and I'm taking my time in editing and drafting it. With that, feel free to leave out your thoughts here, and I'll gladly interact with each and everyone of you. 🫶

Don't forget to leave a comment in this post to be tagged in the last chapter! ✨

TAGS: @machipyun @love-leez @enzosluvr @amber-content @kandierteveilchen @butterfly-lover @1nterstellarcha0s @squidgame-lover001 @risingwithtriples @fries11 @follows-the-life-ahead @goingmerry69 @plague-cure @theredvelvetbitch @cherryheairt @voxslays @thebluehair23 @coruja12345 @alliyah-ll @spiritualgirly444 @luvr4miya (p.s. if i forget to you, please let me know)