#yeah sure i'll file this under that.

[moe-broey]

Reminded of my dream last night where my Mom pulled me aside, the way you just know you're in Deep Shit. Once she had me, she lowered her voice, imposing and threatening with an unmatched level of severity. She said, "Listen to me. These are your options. You're either going to stop being aro/ace or you're going to have to deal with the wolf spiders."

And I was like, damn, "So like, what's the best way to deal with wolf spiders?"

She did not elaborate as that was clearly the incorrect answer.

[flame2ashes]

I figured it out btw

[jewishbuckley]

"was there a reason you didn't cancel this" honestly I thought I had so no there wasn't a reason but also if clients are going to have Your personal number and reach out to You about canceling (when they Should be reaching out via email per our cancelation policy) then You should be canceling the appt anyway imo. all the other trainers cancel their appointments AND add their appointments to the system 🤪

[iceonneo]

𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙚 ; z.cl

chenle x fem! reader

in brief : “Your meeting literally starts in 30 minutes by the way and we’re in your offi-” Voice caught in your throat as you felt him dragging down the dress zipper by his mouth. “I'll make it quick."

tw : swear words, unprotected sex, lil degradation, edging, orgasms, dirty talk, use of names !! mdni ¡¡

ཐིཋྀ˚彡

Tapping of the leather of the sofa, your eyes flickered towards the door knob as it began to twist.

In came your husband. His hand automatically pushing his hair back, other hand carrying a cup of coffee before he pushed the door behind him close by leaning on it. A sigh left his mouth and his vision landed on you.

His eyes lit up before darkening as his gaze trailed down your body. “You’re here?” He asked, voice breathless, setting down his coffee.

“Well you asked for me, didn’t you?” You exhaled before getting up as you walked over, hands immediately fixing his tie. “Yeah.” Chenle said, looking at your new dress that hugged your body way too good.

“Chenle, seriously, how could you forget those files?”

“Well, at least I get to see my wife, don’t I?” He cracked a grin causing you to throw your head back in frustration, a small laugh escaping your lips nevertheless, “Thank god you own the company so you’re not getting in trouble. What am I gonna do with you?”

Detaching your fingers from his tie, you walked around turning away from him, looking at the documents on his table, making sure they were the right ones for the upteenth time.

“Well for starters,” Chenle walked over, hands in pockets and his coral hair shining under the sunlight leaking through the blinds in his office. His figure right behind yours that slightly leaned against the table.

“You can be a good girl while I backshot right into you.” He whispered, his voice hitting your nape as you snorted, “The fuck?” Your attention diverting towards his hands that had started to travel from your sides to your thighs from behind.

Sending a warning glare towards him from the side you kept your hands over his, “Your meeting literally starts in 30 minutes by the way and we’re in your offi-”

Voice caught in your throat as you felt him dragging down the dress zipper by his mouth. “C-Chenle.” You said, trying to appear as stern as possible.

“I’ll make it quick.” He mumbled as his hands grabbed yours situating them over his belt. As if you already know what to do, your fingers already started unbuckling.

“Chenle we shouldn’t,” You breathed out as he rotated your hips, turning you around, “We shouldn't.” He nodded before tilting his head, smashing his lips, mouth all over yours.

Mouths moving fast and rhythmically against each others as your hands landed on his chest, “We should stop…”

“Totally.” He said before latching his mouth to your neck as the both of your hands landed on the table for support. His hand gripping your waist and the other dragging your zip completely down. The way his mouth sucked everywhere, leaving kisses and the way his tongue knew just how to turn you on. You could already feel yourself getting wet.

He was one of the most stubborn man you knew.

And before you know it, You were turned around again, against the table this time.

Feeling the air hit your bare back and bottom, you hissed. “Chenle, not here.” So intoxicated by him, you didn’t even when he unzipped himself and got his dick out.

“As you say.” He said and there it was. His cock entering you from behind as you held your breath, eyes shut and eyebrows pulled together. Though you couldn’t see him you know damn well how hard and throbbing his pale, pink dick must've been. “Couldn’t even hold back for a few minutes, could you?” You got out through your gritted teeth, head against the glass table.

“I didn’t even get this dick moving yet so fucking wet, aren't you?” He snapped back. The cockiness almost making you let a curse you before you felt him plunge into you. A loud moan left your lips before you slapped your palm to the mouth.

“Be a little quiet if you don’t want the entire management team to press their ears against the doors.” He said before gripping your sides, moving faster.

Body shaking with every thrust and you felt your knees get weaker. You struggled to keep your balance, your palms slipping slightly on the glass surface. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, making it harder to stay silent.

Chenle leaned forward, his breath hot against your ear. “You love this, don’t you? Being fucked where anyone could walk in at any moment.”

You bit your lip, trying to stifle another moan. “Yes,” you whispered, barely audible.

He chuckled darkly, his pace quickening. “Good. Because I’m not stopping until you’re screaming my name.”

The way his cock, now coated with your fluids slid in and out, The pace making you see stars. He stretched you out so good, the position was too good, The feeling of him hitting each and every spot- it was all too good. Your grip tightened on the table as you felt the pressure building inside you. The risk, the thrill, it was all too much. You were close, so close.

“Sir?” A knock was heard from outside as your eyes widened. It were almost like a glass shattering inside your head as you came back to your senses.

Pushing him out of you, you quickly got up, zipping your dress back.

Chenle cursed loudly before composing himself, “Yes?” He said, loud enough for his secretary to hear from the outside.

“Sorry to interrupt you sir, I’ve come to remind you that the meeting starts roughly in 5 minutes.”

Your hands flew to your mouth, ears turned red as chenle rolled his eyes, annoyance visible in his tone “Yeah, you might as well leave now.”

“Fuck, the entire building is gonna find out” You screeched into your palms in distress as chenle groaned.

“That fucker donghyuck, I was about to hit it!” He exclaimed dramatically, “Let’s see how long his nosy ass lasts in my comp-”

“Chenle, zip yourself!” You gasped as your hands flew to his crotch, tucking his hanging load back in as you let out a bewildered laugh,

“Baby, should I cancel it?” He whined into your ears, hands around your hips.

You gasped again, turning him around as you pushed him by the butt towards the door, “You better get your ass into that meeting now!”

He laughed loudly, way too loudly, getting out the door as he winked your way, mouthing ‘wait till we get home.’ before he shut the door close while you chuckled to yourself.

ཐིཋྀ˚彡

Chenle didn't play when he meant wait till we get home.

The way he was devouring you wasn't helping. His tongue diving into every crease of yours only fueled to your high. the way his hot mouth sucked on your core as if he were some starved ass animal, the way his eyes occasionally looked up at yours just to admire that pretty face of yours, all fucked up and out of it just because of him.

Your thighs tense and red in contrast to his pale hand gripping your legs to keep you wide open. Trails of moans leaving your mouth as he finally found your spot, teasing you with it.

"C-Chenle please oh.." You got out, fluttering your eyes open as you looked at your man below.

"Please what, baby?" He asked lowly, his breath hitting your open core. The sensation only making you squirm as you frowned. Chenle tutted before dragging his thumb along your slit, testing your patience.

You almost cried out, wanting him so bad. "Oh, please fuck me chenle fuc- OH FUCK" a squeal left your lips when you felt him suck on your sweet spot. His tongue and lips absolutely wrecking you. your eyes rolled way back your head and the grip of your hands over the sheets intensified.

"Just l-like that" You encouraged, tangling your fingers through his pink hair guiding him into yourself as he increased the friction without a complaint. His tongue moving in circles around the spot as you felt yourself get light headed almost. The feeling of it lighting up a fire in your stomach as you felt it coming. "Baby, I'm gonna- gonna cum" Were your last words before you burst and chenle watched you drip.

"So pretty, my baby." He murmured as he grabbed your hands, kissing the knuckle top.

Too fucked out too even process him on top of you until you felt his lips on yours. Reciprocating the kiss back, you felt his dick tease at your entrance.

your hands that gripped the couch transferred over to his hair as you groaned into his mouth, wanting more.

You had taken one step into the house and chenle had already locked the door, flung the curtains close and pinned you over to the couch right away before tearing your dress off you. God forbid you breathe peacefully one night even, your pussy had not known peace since you married this man. This man, also the love of your life.

"Oh fuck, you're gonna take me in baby?" Chenle asked against your mouth as your head dipped further against the armrest, frowning as you hummed in response.

His dick, hard and solid from replaying the picture of you bent over all meeting long, slid inside you as your mouth fell agape, at a loss of words. Not even given enough time to process and your legs were over his shoulder. His hands gripping your thighs as your legs thrown over him were already shaking.

"chen- oh fuck" was all you could get out when your husband started moving. No warning, no cockwarming nothing but straight up bang bang bang into that pussy.

Your cursed into air as his slams grew relentless. Each thrust sending a shock in your body as the moment felt way too good to be true. your nails dug into the couch as your body jolted up and down with his thrusts.

The sound of skin slapping against each other filling the room. You moaned as you felt him hit a certain spot. Chenle slowed down, a smirk fixed on his face as the grip on your thighs never left, "Oh is that your spot baby?"

Too fucked out to even hold an ounce of shame you moaned loudly as his tip dragged across the particular area, slow and torturing. "Chenle please.." You whispered out, wanting him more than ever. He raised his brows slightly, "Words, baby." He loved, absolutely loved the sight of you fucked out, contrasting from the character you were on a daily basis. Always as egoistic as him and Collected, but under the influence of his dick you turned nothing but his whore.

"Chenle please fuck me, I need to feel you deep inside me ple...- oh."

The sight was driving him crazy. Your hair messy, face flushed and eyes closed, brows pulled to a frown, lips caged by your teeth holding back the shameful lewd noises you wanted to moan out loud to let the whole city know how good this cock was, sweat covering your body, tits bouncing slightly and nipples hard as he thrusted slow into your tight cunt, full of your juices that leaked out whenever he moved back.

"Fucking hell" He groaned as he pulled out, gaze glued to your pussy, swollen, puffy and wet- wet would be an understatement, flooded actually. His attention quickly catching up to the stringy whines leaving your mouth.

Wasting no time, He gripped your inner thighs with force as he rammed his cock back. The feeling already awakening the rippling sensation in your stomach again as your hooked your ankles from the behind oh his neck, bringing your cores closer as chenle grunted. Your moans breathless loud and pitched than before with thighs thunderously shaking under his palms gave chenle the signal he needed.

He slipped on of his hands below, over the connection of your bodies, immediately pressing his thumb over your bud as you choked on your own moan. gasping loudly as you moaned his name over and over again.

His sloppy girthy dick plumbing into you along with the added stimulation of his fingers over your clit, rubbing in circles harshly made you lose your mind almost. The moans of your both bouncing off the walls as chenle practically thrashed you against the couch.

You didn't even know the couch could shake until today.

"Fuck, fuck fuck, I'm gonna.." You trailed off, attention diverted towards the wave of pleasure of your high washing over you as you arched your back to a maximum against the leather. Your slick flowing out of your hole over his dick making a mess. Chenle never stopped his dick, nor his fingers, pumping you over and over again as his grunts began frequently.

"C-chenle" you whimpered out, pussy already swollen, drenched and overstimulated. Yet the beast on top of you wouldn't budge a bit.

"Fuck I'm gonna fill your pussy up, I'm gonna have my load all over you, sit up." Nodding out of your daze, you slowly rose up, moving your thighs off his shoulders as chenle continued to fuck you. The way he had been pounding this dick into you since the past three hours, you just know you were bedridden for the week.

Giving final jerks into you, he moaned out as he flooded you. The warmth filling you from the inside as you felt complete. when your hole was leaking to the brim, he pulled out. Bringing his dick to your face as he fisted the remaining of his liquids out. His cum decorating your face, dripping off your chin right onto your nipple.

The sight so fucking unreal he thought he could come over again just by looking. "fuck baby" he breathed out before getting off the top of you, his palms over your knees as he spread you out. Your legs opened as he got a view of your core.

Almost as if he were beyond stunned he let his eyes rake over the sight. pussy still tight, bright, throbbing. fully swollen and coated with your slick. Your entrance oozing out his cum, white liquid dripping down, he was gonna go insane. As if hypnotized, he got his finger out, gathering and stuffing his seed back into you.

"Oh hell no, stop it" you groaned into your palms, feeling your conscious and shame take over. Chenle rose to his feet, fingers still burried deep in you, coating your walls white with his fingers, "Baby, can you take one mor-"

His sentence cut short before you detached yourself, thrashing a pillow over his face suffocating him almost as the poor guy below raised his hands by the side in defense.

With a huff, you got up already making your way to the bathroom with your wobbly legs as chenle pulled the pillow off, letting his laughter die down, "Baby wait, you can't walk I need to help you."

His arm extended out grabbing a towel as he quickly followed behind, "I heard if you fuck an even number of times, the universe grants you a long life so we might need to make that nine rounds a ten lets shower se-"

"ZHONG CHENLE!"

[anonymityisfunwriter]

I Can See You

"And I could see you being my addiction, you can see me as a secret mission..."

Summary: You and Bucky don't see eye to eye, everyone knows that. They don't know that you and Bucky once knew each other under very different names. And they most certainly don't know that when he looks at you, he can still every stolen moment, his jacket on the floor, notes saying meet him at midnight, you up against the wall with him. No, they don't see that at all. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist | Anon's 1K Celebration

"I already told you, I'm only doing this because I owe you."

Six months - that was your promise.

Six months of your time and best efforts.

"And as a part of this favor, you promised to keep an open mind."

And an open mind, you begrudgingly recall. You promised you would keep an open mind about making this a more permanent placement.

Nick Fury was sure that you'd find a home here in the Avengers Compound.

You were fairly certain that you wouldn't - but you weren't going to tell him that.

You hated owing people. Nick Fury even more so. You could bide your time for six months to pay your debt to him. He didn't need to know you had no intention of becoming an Avenger. "Whatever you have to tell yourself, Nick."

"That doesn't sound like an open mind," he admonishes.

You smirk, enjoying the frantic hustle and bustle of the Avengers Compound with your duffle bag slung over your shoulder, "You know that I don't do well in teams. I don't play fair, Nick."

"Never heard that one before."

"But I bet you believe me, don't you?" you retort.

"Open mind."

You roll your eyes, waving him off, "Yeah, yeah, when exactly do I get to meet these self righteous assholes?"

"How does now sound?"

"Like my worst nightmare," you mutter under your breath.

If he heard you, he doesn't let it show. Nick flings the door to the conference room open, revealing two men standing beside each other poring over a case file.

It's not their impressive statures that catch your attention. In fact, the blonde one hardly catches your eye at all.

And if you weren't highly trained and disciplined, a gasp would've lodged itself in your throat at the sight of the brunette you never thought you'd see again.

"Ah, Nick told us we might be meeting you today." The sandy haired super soldier extends his hand out to you. It doesn't escape your attention that the brunette snaps the file shut the moment he sees you. "I'm Steve, Steve Rogers."

You return the gesture, still barely paying attention to the man. Your eyes flicker to Bucky. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was entirely unfazed by your sudden reappearance.

You're thankful you do know better. You know so much better. 

Bucky's eyes meet yours for a split second, they narrow slightly. It tells you everything that you need to know. You've caught him off guard.

Steve takes Bucky's silence as his cue to interject. He clears his throat, gesturing to his friend, "And this is Bucky Barnes. He's a, well, he's a man of few words."

Apparently, that hadn't changed since you knew him under an entirely different name.

"It's nice to meet you," you say to Steve. Your eyes flicker back to Bucky. His jaw ticks as a wide grin pulls at the corners of your mouth. He's worried that you'll give away his dirty little secret. Your eyes flash over to him, a mischievous gleam that Bucky doesn't miss, "The both of you."

Steve smiles at the change in your demeanor, "Nick filled me in about your little deal. Exactly how long is this trial run going to run?"

"Six months," you confidently reply, unabashedly staring at Bucky. "I'll be out of your hair in six months."

"But we're keeping an open mind, aren't we?" Nick urges you again.

You playfully roll your eyes, a beaming grin on your face, "Of course, Nick. You know, I don't know why, but suddenly, I get the sense that these next six months are going to be a hell of a lot of fun."

"That's an interesting take," Steve lilts.

"She's your problem now," Nick quips.

"Me? A problem?" you gasp in mock offense. You turn to Bucky, who's still yet to say a word. "Do I look like a problem, Bucky?"

Bucky's eyes narrow again. The muscle in his jaw ticks yet again. You swear you can almost hear the sound of his teeth grinding. It's almost enough to make you laugh.

The silence is palpable as Bucky glares at you. Steve nervously laughs, taking a step closer to you. He gestures to your duffle bag, "How about I show you were you can put your stuff down? We'll give you a chance to settle in and you'll meet the rest of the team first thing in the morning."

"Sounds like a plan, Captain."

"Just Steve is fine."

"See?" You call over your shoulder to Nick. "I'm already having so much fun."

You're not surprised that he came to find you minutes later. If you're right, he waited just long enough to make sure he wasn't being obvious. You don't even need to look over your shoulder to feel his lurking gaze far before you see him. "I can see you."

"Why did you lie?" Bucky furiously demands, standing in the doorway of your new bedroom.

You grin to yourself, still turned away from Bucky. "Nice to see you again, Soldat."

"Bucky," he firmly states, his hands curling into tight fists. "My name is Bucky."

"If I recall correctly, you liked when I called you Soldat." You turn on your heel, taking several steps toward Bucky. He knows he should stop you. He knows he should stay as far away from you as possible, as far away from your bedroom as possible. And yet, there's a side of him that wants nothing more than to feel you close to him all over again. He doesn't stop you. He doesn't push you away. Not even when you're close enough to touch him. "Or did it sound better when I whispered it in your ear?" You lean in, your voice dropping to a soft whisper in his ear, "My Soldat."

He does his very best to suppress the shudder that rolls through his entire body. It takes him a beat longer than it should to regain his senses and take a step away from you. He demands again, "Why did you lie?"

You chuckle, finally stepping away and allowing him his space, "Would you prefer I tell your team mates about your history of getting a little too close to your enemies?"

"What makes you think that they don't know?" Bucky challenges. 

You languidly shrug, "We'll call it a hunch."

"I'm not that person anymore." Bucky takes an angry step forward, desperate to convince you that he's a changed man. "I don't keep secrets anymore."

"So tell them," you offer. "What do I care?"

"You cared enough to lie," Bucky shoots back.

"If you want to let your team know that we used to fu-"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence. I'm not that person anymore," he repeats himself. This time, he's not sure who he's trying to convince.

"Then we shouldn't have any problems, should we?" you rhetorically ask.

His eyes narrow, his gaze sharp and ready to kill, "What are you up to?"

"Me?" You gesture to yourself, resting your hand on your chest. "I'm not up to anything. Come on, Soldat, don't you trust me?"

"No, I don't because I know you, and you're always up to something," he bitterly accuses. "You've always got an angle."

"I assume you're talking about that day."

"You sold me out."

"You'll never see, will you?" You roll your eyes at him, waving him off, "I'm simply doing the favor that was asked of me."

"Six months?"

"Six months. And no one will ever have to know. Unless, of course, you can't help yourself."

He scoffs, "That won't be a problem."

"History has a tendency to repeat itself, Bucky," you state, putting an extra emphasis on his name.

"Not this time. Here's how this is going to go." He reaches out, snatching your wrist. His grip is tight enough to force you to pay attention, but not enough to actually hurt. "I'll stay away from you, and you're going to stay away from me. Got it? Let's just - let's keep this professional."

A grin spreads across your face. Your eyes flicker down to the burning grip on your wrist. You like that, even now, even after all these years, you still have an effect on the man you once called yours. "Don't worry, Bucky. I'm as reformed as you are."

That's exactly what worried him.

The months passed as quietly as Bucky could ever bring himself to hope.

Still, you never quite let it rest, never let him rest.

You always had a way of letting him know that you could see him. You could see how he was struggling to contain himself, struggling to suppress every flashback, struggling to simply keep his eyes off of you, struggling to contain all the feelings that he denied he felt for you.

He wondered if you knew that you kept him up all hours of the night. There were so many nights he spent sleep evaded, wondering what would happen if he just knocked on your door. Would you be up waiting for him? Would you smirk that smirk? The one he'd come to love and hate all at once. The one that was haunting him. The one he saw every time he close his eyes.

It wasn't just at night. It was every night. Every day. Every waking moment that you danced somewhere on the outskirts of his awareness. Every time you brushed past him in the hallway. You had to know you were driving him to the brink of madness. 

Sometimes, you barely acknowledged him. Sometimes, you gave him that infuriating smirk. Every single time, he saw it. Every single time, he saw you.

That part of his life was, for lack of a better word, scrambled. And still, he could never forget your touch. That part was crystal clear.

And he couldn't decide whether he loved or hated the fact that it might just be you doing that to him.

It ate at him.

It was a special gift you possessed, he had to admit. You could make him see whatever you wanted him to see, the power to ensnare his senses. The good, the bad, the beautiful, and the ugly. You had the power to do it, to make him see whatever you wanted him to. He told himself that's what it was. It wasn't remembering a long lost love, it was you messing with his head all over again. 

He'd see flashes of the time you spent together once upon a time. His jacket on the floor. Up against the wall with you. Those old, crumpled notes telling him to meet you at midnight. He remembers every second of it. 

But most of all, you. He remembers every whispered sweet nothing. He remembers the anticipation he felt every time he saw you. And he remembers your touch. Your lips on his, trailing down his jawline. Your fingers running over the planes of his chest.

Deep down, he knew it wasn't your powers. It was you. There was no forgetting a touch like that. No forgetting a person like you.

It just another way you tormented him. So few ever escaped the Winter Soldier. Even fewer lived to tell the tale.

Not you. You not only lived to tell the tale, you taunted him with it. After that very first night, where he was, you were. He was never quite sure if it was glorious happenstance or your own doing.

Your very first encounter, you caught him totally off guard - something previously thought impossible. He didn't see you. He didn't hear you coming. He didn't feel you slip past him to reach your target before he ever could. All he remembered was hearing footsteps in the dark street. He knows for a fact you could've disappeared into the night without him ever knowing. He whirled around, searching for the culprit. He saw nothing, no one. 

It should've been quick, an easy kill. Instead, it was the first time he ever failed.

To this day, he swears that he heard your whispered laugh when he realized his target was gone, vanished into the night.

You showed yourself the second time. He was more prepared that time. Not ready for it, but more prepared. The first time his vision failed him, he sprayed the room with bullets.

"Uh, uh," you condescendingly tutted, allowing him to see you standing before him. "Can't get rid of me that easily, Soldat."

He saw you standing before him for a short moment, just enough to memorize your face. And then he lost all sight. You stroked his cheek, he remembers that. It was the first time you ever touched him. It was the most tender touch he'd felt in decades.

When he regained his senses, you were gone. Along with his target. 

The third time, he caught you - or you allowed him to catch you. He wasn't quite sure.

"Who are you?" he demanded, pinning you against the wall.

"Poor, Soldat," you cooed at him. It confused him. There was no fear in your voice. For some reason, he knew that if he released your arms from his iron grip, you wouldn't punch, scratch, or claw at him. You wouldn't fight back. You'd taunt him with your touch all over again. And for a reason that was more unknown to him, he really wanted you to. "They truly tell you nothing."

His sight was gone, but this time, he refused to let go. He gripped your wrists hard enough to leave bruises, pinning them over your head, "Let me see you."

"Say please." There it was that taunt that he knew would come. There was a lilt to your voice he'd never forget. In that moment he knew, he was powerless against you and your whims.

"Let me see you. Now."  He grips you even tighter. For a long moment, he still saw nothing. All he could feel was your body pinned against the wall, pinned against him. He softly exhales, his breath dusting over your lips, "Please."

He thought he memorized your face the first time you allowed him to see you, but he was wrong. There was so much he missed. He missed the slope of your nose. How soft and plush your lips looked. The mischievousness shining in your brilliant eyes.

He studied your face again. Over and over. Forcing himself to commit every detail to memory. Your smirk melted into the warmest smile he'd ever seen you wear.

You lean into him, as close as his grip will allow you to. So close that your lips linger a breath away from his. For a moment, he thinks you're going to kiss him. Instead, you speak softly, your breath skating across his lips, "I like you, Soldat. We're going to have fun."

His heart still stuttered. At the time, he didn't know what you meant.

He learned quickly after that.

It was the definition of a whirlwind romance - or as close to a romance as two assassins could possibly get. Long nights spent beside you. Jet setting across the globe for missions, just waiting with bated breath in the hopes that you'd be there. You never talked about what it meant, what you felt, all you had were those nights. Somewhere in those nights, he stopped being Soldat, and he started being your Soldat. 

So was it you? Were you the reason he could still see it?

Or was it him? Was it the fact that he could never really let those nights go?

He was a different person than the one you knew all those years ago. He was on the straight and narrow. He stayed out of trouble. You were the epitome of trouble. You sold him out the moment it was convenient for you. So why can't he let you go?

You caught him off guard when you showed up here. He was determined to make sure that didn't happen again. He just needed to be on his best behavior.

He knows you've been watching him - but he can see you, too.

You make a point to brush past him in the hallway on the way to the conference room. He thinks you can't see it, but you've been watching him closely.

You can see the waver of his Adam's apple, the way his eyes dart in your direction when you pass him, the way his jaw ticks shut as if he were doing his very best to contain himself.

Your days here on the Compound were dwindling down to your last few weeks. He still couldn't figure out why he couldn't let you go.

Even as he sits across the conference room table, you overwhelm each and every one of his senses. You pretend like you don't see him taking the seat directly across from you. Instead, you lean closer into Sam.

Sam grins at you. "So you can show me anything?"

"Anything," you promise, driving Bucky mad by using that torturous smirk on Sam. 

Bucky's not sure what Sam sees. It could be anything. A powder white beach on some far off coast. A meadow filled with fragrant, vibrant flowers dancing in the daylight. You could make him feel like he was plummeting to his death. You could make him feel loved for the first time in his life. You could let him know a betrayal like no other. 

He shakes away the runaway train of thought, focusing on the far off look in Sam's eye and the look of wonderment painting his face, "Whoa..."

"Bucky," Sam calls, his voice filled with laughter as you use your gift like a party trick. "Come try this! She's like a human VR."

"As tempting as that is," Bucky sarcastically remarks, crossing his arms over his chest, "I'd like to get this meeting over with."

"Alright, team," Tony calls out, beginning their latest team meeting. "Fury added another assignment to our docket. Black tie, intercepting a black market intel deal. You get in, you get out. Should be easy enough."

"Whatever you say," Bucky mutters under his breath.

"Barnes," Tony smirks. "I'm so glad you agree. You're up."

"What? Why?" Bucky demands. 

Tony nonchalantly shrugs, "Because I said so."

"Asshole," Bucky grumbles.

Tony's eyes flicker over to you next. In that moment, Bucky freezes. There's no way Tony know about the two of you, but it certainly feels like Tony's doing this just to punish him. "And you can take the human VR with you."

"No," Bucky sharply refutes, gripping the table so tightly he's sure Tony will have to get a new one. "I go, I go alone."

"Sorry, Barnes, we'll need more than brawn to get us into that gala."

Six months. Almost six months passed and he'd done everything in his power to avoid this. To avoid being alone with you. To avoid working in close proximity to you and the aura of temptation and betrayal that shrouded you.

The number of favors he now owed to his teammates was proof of it. He had no interest in testing the limit of his will power. "Then, I'll take Wanda."

Tony crosses his arms, shaking his head and looking far too pleased at Bucky's discomfort, "Nope, she's needed on a different assignment."

You smirk, tongue running over your teeth like a predator watching their prey fall into their trap. "Careful, Bucky, I'm starting to get the sense that you don't want to work with me."

Bucky's eyes dart to you, grimacing at you, "Whatever."

"Oh, I'm sure we'll have a lot of fun."

"Bucky," Steve starts, tightly gripping his shoulder as the room filters out. "What's the problem?"

Bucky glowers at you as you saunter out of the conference room. Of course, you're far too pleased with this outcome. You make a point to grin at him as rage rolls off of him. "I don't trust her."

"Why? She's never given us any reason not to."

"Because -" Bucky starts, faltering after only a word. He can't bring himself to say why. That was between you and him. A memory he buried long ago. "Forget about it."

But he remembers. All of it. He remembers the moment you betrayed him and broke his heart all too well. 

"My Soldat..."

He sighs in relief, he finally stops pacing the floor of your safe house. You asked to meet days ago and you had yet to show up. Weeks had passed without hearing from you. You'd never gone this long without making yourself known. Finally, here you were, back in his arms where you would always belong,"It's been too long. I was beginning to worry."

"Don't ever worry about me, my Soldat." Your words are sharper than he's ever heard from you, it shocks him. You caress his cheek, fingertips trailing down to his jawline, your words soften to a gentle whisper, "Don't ever worry about me."

He bends down and kisses the palm of your hand, "I will always worry. For you, I will worry for as long as I live."

You smile, resting your hand over his beating heart. That's why you were doing this. You made deals with people you hated, resigned yourself to a life always looking over your shoulder, and sealed your fate, all to keep his heart beating, all to give him the long, happy life he deserved.

"And for that, you'll always be my Soldat." You kiss him with everything you have left. Your last kiss. A goodbye kiss. Because if you loved something, you set it free. If they came back to you, they would always be yours. And now, you were setting him free. And he would never forgive you for this. He would never be yours again. "And that's why it had to end this way."

"What are you talking about?"

You back away from the window of your safe house, "I'm sorry."

"What?"

And that's when the SHIELD agents swarmed.

It was a moment hard to forget. Yet it was equally hard to remember, to remember why he didn't trust you, to remember why he could never allow himself to let his guard down, not when you were so good at taunting him. He was sure you were taunting. He knew it from the very moment you stepped into the armory in a red dress that nearly stopped his heart.

You make it a point to saunter past him, tossing a laugh over your shoulder, "Don't worry, Soldat. I'll be on my best behavior."

"I won't hold my breath." Flashes of old memories race through his head. This time, he's sure it's you. His eyes snap up to you with a glower, "You said you were going to be behave."

"I said I was going to be on my best behavior," you correct, making a show of picking out your knives for the night. "This is pretty much as good as it gets."

"That's what I was worried about," Bucky sighs to himself.

"Lighten up, Soldier. It's my last night, I'd like to have just a little fun."

"Last night?"

"That was the deal."

Bucky's eyes dart away from you as you lift your leg up. The fabric of your dress slides up as you strap a small dagger to your holster. He knows you're doing it on purpose to rile him up. That's not what worries him. What worries him is if you're not doing it intentionally. If you're not trying to get his attention and he's just so viscerally aware of you that he can't stop thinking about you. That's what worries him. He doesn't trust himself enough to be this drawn to you. He clears his throat of the knot forming, "So you're not staying?"

"Why? You gonna miss me?" you tease. He remains silent, his eyes unflinchingly forward. "Let's not kid ourselves, Bucky. You didn't want me to stay. Too risky - I might ruin your squeaky clean reputation."

He's absolutely certain that you're the only person that's ever referred to his reputation as squeaky clean. "You're really leaving?"

"It's okay, Soldat."

"I told you not to call me that," Bucky snaps. He's aware that his self control is slipping minute by minute. Every second in your presence is a test of his restraint.

"Do you still remember? Can you still see it in your mind? Or do you need me to show you?"

"Stop." He barks the second a flash of the memory starts playing in his head. He can see himself tossing his jacket on the floor in a frenzy. "That's enough."

You smirk that damned smirk at him again. His fist clenches tightly, the knuckles of his flesh hand white with strain. "You're thinking about us right now, aren't you?"

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to push the image out of his head, he frantically shakes his head, "Stop it."

"Do you want to know what I'm thinking about?"

"Not particularly," he rasps.

"Liar."

He clenches his jaw so tightly that he's worried he might break a tooth or two as he desperately tries to hold onto his last ounce of self control. He's fighting a losing battle. "I'm not a liar."

"So what would you do? If I touched you right now?" You rest your hand against his chest. "If I got just a little bit closer?"

He hopes you can't hear his heart stutter. "I - I wouldn't do anything."

"What if you knew they would never find out? If we were so quiet and we didn't make a sound?"

"It wouldn't change a thing."

"What if I told you I remember it all? Every night. Every mission. Every time you kissed me."

"I-" His voice falters. Now was his chance. This was it, whether he wanted you to stay or go. Would you stay if he admitted that he never stopped thinking about those stolen moments? Or would you betray him all over again and laugh in his face and smirk that damned smirk with pride at bringing him to his knees? He can't put his finger on it, but in this moment, he doesn't care. He'll take the chance. He swallows the knot in his throat, "I would tell you I remember all of it."

Your hand twitches against his chest. "What?"

"I remember every second. I'll never forget any of it. I could just never figure out: Was any of it real?"

"Can't you see, my Soldat?" Your hand skates past his collarbone, up his throat, coming to rest on his cheek. Your hand caresses him with a tenderness he thought he would never feel again. "It was always real. Every moment of it."

"Then why did you do it?" he softly exhales.

"I had my reasons."

He lunges forward, and in the blink of an eye, he's gripping your wrist and pinning it to the wall behind you, "Tell me."

You grin wildly. You've been here with him before. "Arrogant as ever, Soldat."

"If it was real, why did you do it?" he demands, flexing his grip.

You lick your lips, momentarily debating whether or not to give him the truth. It ate at you for years. From afar, you could live with the knowledge that he might always hate you for what you did. Watching the conflict warring in his eyes was an entirely different battle. You figure, of all the things you could give him, the truth would at least give him some sense of peace. "It wasn't safe."

He loosens his grip slightly, "I would've protected you."

"It wasn't safe for you."

His eyes flash open. "What?"

"You were my mission, Bucky," you finally confess. "There was never anything else - anyone else. It was you. Only you."

He lets go, the shock sending him staggering. Your hand skates down the wall, but he doesn't move back to allow you the space to move. "You were sent to kill me."

You tilt your head at him, "I clearly failed."

"That doesn't explain why you betrayed me."

"Someone found out about us."

He shakes his head, his eyes storming with anger, "No, we were careful."

"Someone knew. I got a nice gunshot in the back to prove it. They knew I wasn't going to complete my mission. They knew I was never going to kill you. I wasn't going to lead them right to you. I didn't know who was watching. I wasn't - I wasn't going to gamble your life until I was sure that they were all gone."

The realization dawns on Bucky almost immediately. Sure, you were one hell of an assassin. Sure, your powers were beyond belief and could take down even the most heinous villains. But not even you could singlehandedly take down the crime syndicate you used to work for. An organization almost as massive and pervasive as HYDRA was. That's why you put yourself in Nick Fury's debt. You did it for him. "That's why you owed Nick Fury. That's why you sold me out." 

"As twisted as it sounds, you were safer in SHIELD's custody. The moment I knew you were safe and in custody, I killed each and every one of them."

His voice is hoarse as he speaks, "You should've told me."

"I wasn't going to risk your life just so you wouldn't think badly of me."

"Then why did you come here?" he demands. "If you had no intention of telling me the truth, if you were going to pretend, why ask to come here?"

"I didn't ask to come here. I didn't know you were here. I stopped looking for you some time ago."

"Why?"

"I dug deep to finish what they started. And once I tore them down brick by brick, I needed to rebuild. I had nothing left. It took me a while to resurface."

"Oh." There's a tightness in Bucky's chest at your confession. He never looked for you. He though you betrayed him. Up until now, there was no reason to believe anything else. You rebuilt your life on your own. You had no one, nothing left. You were left all alone. He left you all alone. 

There's a strange look in Bucky's eye when you finally look up at him. There's a lightness you haven't scene in quite some time. "What?"

The corner of Bucky's mouth twitches up. You may not have known, but Nick Fury sure did. "Fury knew I was here. He knew where he was sending you. He knew about... us?"

"I assume he figured it out when I came to him, begging him to help me keep you safe."

A shaky exhale dances across your lips. Bucky closes the gap between the two of you, pressing you up against the wall with him. "It was real."

For the first time in a long time, you touch him. You rest your shaky hand against cheek, your fingers ghosting over his lips, "Finally, you see, it was real... my Soldat."

AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist Bucky Barnes Masterlist

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez @ludicbouquetfromearth @matchat3a @famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff @valoraxx @blue786sworld @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @geminigengar @ansaturn @ecolle @lexhalstead3 @ybflkmj @mediocre-daydreams @shanye1112 @thegirlnextdoorssister @toomanyfanficsbruh @moonlightreader649 @breathtaking-cynthia @mirikusashes@beans-and-toast @niyahcoca @katiechikin @elxvrr @antiheroxsblog @infamouslyclumsy @krissydclayton93 @buckysbarne @deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic @whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy @matchat3a

[sexilene]

omg lene you should do something about a 80's slashers au with rafe and the boys that would be soooo cool!! ❤️❤️

!!! omigod yesss i'm gonna start with 80's slasher!rafe if feel like he'd be a creepy little stalkerrr, def season 2 rafe 💞

𐦍༘₊ ⊹ warnings! 18+ - non con, violence, stalking, spanking, slight breeding kink, knife play, dark!rafe - ₊˚⊹

you sat in the comfort of your bedroom, bathed in the soft glow of lamplight, finishing up some homework while talking with a girlfriend of yours on the phone. you reach your hand out to your nightstand to grab the nail file when the sound of the door closing causes you to freeze, being left home alone, your heart starts to race, and you hang up the phone and walk up to your door. you pull down your pretty little white nightgown so it covers your ass as you press your ear to the door to make sure it was just your parents.

all you hear is silence so you shrug and convince yourself it was just your mind playing tricks on you, then the phone starts to ring again, thinking it was just your friend calling you back, and you pick up the phone. 

"hello?" you speak with your voice lowered.

"hey babyface" you stop moving when you hear a voice you don't recognize.

"who's calling?" you try to sound assertive but end up sounding like a scared puppy. 

"i've been uh- watching you for a long time, an' i figured i should introduce myself," he says, his voice all gravely. you grip on the handle of the phone and reach an arm over to close your curtains quickly.

"stop that! it's not funny, whoever this is leave me alone." you almost whine. 

"nah can't do that baby, you looked too pretty in that nightgown...you wearin' panties underneath?" he continues. 

"i'm gonna call my boyfriend an-and he'll find out who you are and beat you up!" you stutter.

"you're not gonna do that, cuz uh- i'm in the house, and if you hang up-"

"i'll call the police!" you cut him off.

"i need you to listen to me, if you don't wanna die, you need to walk down to the living room slowly- you try to run and i'll catch you. if you don't come down, i'll go up n'get you." he then hangs up, your chest heaving as tears start to form in your eyes, you think about climbing out the window but it is on the second floor and the man might catch you and kill you! you decide to grab a chair to put against the door to keep him coming in but it's too late, as you take one step backward trying to drag the chair you feel the blade of a knife press against your neck. you gasp, ready to scream.

"shshshsh, behave." the man shushes you, pressing himself behind you, god he must be tall. "told you to listen" he coos condescendingly. 

"please, please don't..." you sob. 

"hey, hey! shut up- listen to me alright?" he raises his voice causing you to shut your eyes and nod slowly in fear, tears spill down your face. "good girl. want you to lay down on your bed and stay there, don't move, scream, talk or do anything 'less i tell you." you nod again slowly and he removes the knife from your neck, you do as you are told and lay down on your bed, silently sobbing. 

you look at the man, face now lit up by the soft light of your nightstand lamp, you watch him come closer and wipe some of the sweat forming on his forehead under his messy hair with the back of his hand that's holding the knife. he grins, getting up on your bed and tossing the knife next to him as he pins you down. 

"r-rafe?..." you whisper, now realizing who it is.

"yeah! yeah baby it's me..." he continues to grin. 

"get off! please rafe, i don't wanna do this with you!" you whine and start to squirm a little bit.

"you don't really have a choice." he mumbles as he runs his rough hands up and down your thighs, stopping to grab the hem of your lace panties. "you wear this for me?" he says pulling them down as you really start to cry, trying to get him off of you by pushing at his shoulders but he's too strong.

"i have a- my boyfriend-" you start but then he looks back into your eyes and smiles again. "nah, you don't, i got rid of 'im... cut him up, he's in the trunk of my truck. wanna see?" he asks, his eyes following yours, bringing his hand up to wipe your tears away lovingly. 

"why!? why are you doing this!" you sob and try and move your face away from his touch. "i love you, i love you so much and you never talked to me or...looked at me and i need you to love me too…say it…" he demands. you shake your head no and try and push him off, pissed, rafe manhandles you. he flips you onto your stomach and lifts you up by your waist so your face is smushed against the messy sheets, ass in the air. "you fucking brat." he spits out.

he yanks your panties down and smacks your ass with his large hand, holding your wrists in the other. he forcefully spreads your legs and places a hard slap on your poor wet little cunt.

you let out a yelp as he "soothes" your throbbing pussy by rubbing your clit with the rough pads of three fingers. "are you a virgin princess?" he whispers, pressing a gross, sloppy kiss to your cheek. you whine out and try to move your face away. "what? you don't like my kisses?" he leans in again to give you a few more of those wet kisses, making taunting kissy sounds that make you scrunch up your face and mewl.

"gonna make you feel reeeally good baby, gonna make this little pussy cream all over me, yeah?" he rambles, grabbing the knife with his free hand, bringing it back to your neck. "please rafe, i've never- "

"you waited for me? huh? princess saved herself for me." you can hear his smile, he's almost relieved that he will be your first and last. he pulls himself out of his boxers and starts to line himself up. "i would'a stretched you out a bit first but this cunt is a dripping mess already so."

you scream as you feel his fat tip press against your entrance. "shhhhshh, s'just the tip." he murmurs, easing himself in slowly until he's stretching you as you've never felt, his tip kisses your cervix. "ow! it's too big, too much, too big..." you ramble, squeezing down on his cock unable to really move due to the knife.

"n'you are so tight, fuck, this is where you should'a always been..taking me like this babydoll." he grits through his teeth as he starts to thrust causing you to whine and to try and pull your hands away from his grip.

"keep cryin', it's only making me harder princess," he grunts, tears continue to stream down your face. he pounds into you now hard and fast, you wish you could grab onto his shoulders or hair as he starts to hit that sweet spot.

"stop it! rafeeee" you whine, he shushes you by tossing the knife on the bed again and covering your mouth with his hand as he continues his assault on your cunt. "i should cum in you, knock you up so you won't ever be able to leave me." he breathes out, he lets go of your face and wraps that hand around your neck to bring you up to kiss your neck. "no! no no please pull out! please rafe!" you cry.

he lets go of your neck and throws you back down you your face hits the mattress again, he lets go of your wrists so you are now gripping your sheets. "you know that's the knife i used to stab your boyfriend? he begged like a little bitch. he didn't deserve you." he reaches a hand around to grab your pussy and pull you closer to him, then rubbing your throbbing clit.

"m'na cummm" you mewl, body giving into how he's touching you so roughly yet gently.

"i know baby, give it to me, all over my cock c'mon" he encourages with that tone, and feeling him so deep in you and hitting that spot your body goes numb. shutting your eyes tightly as hot white explodes in you making you feel like you are on a roller-coaster.

he grips your waist and with the other hand, he's lovingly brushing back your messy baby hairs due to your sweaty forehead. "atta girl, thereee, see? i knew you could be good for me." he thrusts once more hard and deep, shooting his thick hot load all up in you causing you to whine at the feeling and making him groan.

he pulls out of you, sticking his two fingers into your pussy to push his cum back in, then leaning in to bite your ass. you let out a little scream, he flips you on your back and grabs the knife, gripping your thigh he brings the knife over to carve a little RC into the meat of your thigh. you try not to thrash around but you do let out another little scream at the pain.

"yer' all mine now kid." he smiles, exhaustion taking over as you let out shaky breaths and let him lean in to press icky kiss to your lips. ᥫ᭡

[anonymous-existences]

Chapter 1: Heading out with a Heavy Heart.

Aftermath of the Prolouge

"Da.....nny.... Danny..."

"Jazz?" Danny whips his head at the female voice behind him

"Da... nny....." She mutters again with a soft smile on her voice.

"Jazz!" He cried out and hugged her tightly, tears trailing down his cheeks.

"Danny.... wake up..." She mutters with a concerned tone. Danny tilts his head on confusion

"W-What do you mean?" He asks, his face scrunching up in concern.

"Danny wake up." She says in a louder tone, the surroundings suddenly started to crack and shatter, eventually crumbling like glass.

"DANNY WAKE UP!" A male voice yelled out shaking him awake.

Danny was breathing heavily in a fast pace as his eyes darted around him eventually landing on the person who woke him up.

"Hah... Fruit loops.." he Sighed out slowly calming his chest down. He can't help but notice his hand trembling. "Damn..." He blurts out.

"Are you okay?.." Dani or well.. Ellie asked him with a concerned worried face. Vlad lifts her up on the bed so she could hug Danny. "Yeah Ells... I'm fine... I'm.... I'm fine-" he tries to come up with an excuse.

"You're not fine Daniel." Vlad speaks up, his eyes squinting although it may look like he's glaring at Danny but Danny knows he's very worried, concerned. He still finds Vlad's or Plasmius's Change of Attitude and Personality towards him odd, but then again he was the first person Danny broke down Infront of after Jazz's death so he suppose it's to be expected.

Dani jumped up at him with her hands high up, Danny nods and carries her in his arms and They Pressed foreheads with each other.

They headed downstairs to the living room and Danny puts down Ellie so she can sit on the couch.

Danny remembers now why he's with Vlad in the first place.... So he can be far away, away from this place that he used to call his haunt... His home.

Danny sits down ready to discuss his plan. He needed to run.

"Help me Vlad..." He pleaded softly.

Vlad's Gaze softened but got even more worried, he lets out a sigh and pulled out his wallet.

"You. And Dante over here are going to Gotham."

He finally says, Dante almost spit out his Early Morning Beer hearing his name and hearing himself being included in this so called runaway.

"Why the fuck me?" He choked out confused as he stared at Vlad.

Vlad frowned and scoffed "it's because you're a somewhat responsible adult, I can't legally adopt Daniel over here for obvious reasons" Vlad glances at Danny and He just fakes a gag motion.

"Fair enough" Dan simply accepted his fate and shrugged it off, Danny thought to himself that Dan's Therapy Sessions surely must be working so well for him to behave like this.

"You two also looks the closest as... Well... Family. You do not need to worry about money or everything else I will cover it. Even if it means Betraying... Betraying... Maddie......" He hesitates for a moment before pulling out his Black Card and hands it to Dante.

"Sweet." Dante smirks widely and chuckling to himself.

"Do not max it out for the love of god." Vlad whips his head to glare at Dante.

"I'm not promising anything, but fine. I'll take care of the little twerp here. No need to worry." He widens his grin and ruffles Danny's Hair.

Danny doesn't remember how he and Dante got along but, it's... It's very comforting to say the least.

"I'll enroll you into Gotham U, under MY name. You will be reffered to as Daniel James Masters. And You, Dan. Will be Dante Jamie Masters." Vlad hands out the 'fake' or forged files and Dante hides them in his chest whilst nodding.

"Just lay Low. Okay?" Vlad gripped Danny's palm, Danny stared for a brief moment before nodding subtly.

This was it.

He was leaving his haunt.

Although it'll take time to adjust to the new surroundings he needs to do this. He has to do this nontheless. He was just thankful he has people who are there by his side... Even if she left an unfulfilled hole in his heart.

He was relieved to say the least, relieved to say he can finally leave. That he can finally gain the independence Jazz would've wanted him to have, the freedom she couldn't provide herself out of fear of leaving him with their parents..

"Danny." Dante clicked his fingers trying to get Danny's attention.

"Ah. Sorry. I was... Thinking..." Danny muttered, Dante just nodded and pressed foreheads with Danny before ruffling his already Messy Hair. "It'll be okay little king twerp." Dante reassured him like an older brother, Danny still found it odd but him and Dante bonded over the fact that they both have dead sisters.

"As I was saying... Danny, have you got everything packed?" Vlad finally spoke up, "Ofcourse Fruit loops, always a few steps ahead yk." Danny chuckled trying to ease his mood.

"How bout saying goodbye to your friends? Keeping in touch? Do you have everything you need to keep in contact with us and them?" Vlad asked again this time with a more concerned tone.

"Ofcourse. We had... Well... We cried a lot yesterday night because they know I'm leaving." He reassured Vlad. "I'll be fine... I promised didn't i?" Danny just smiled

Maybe one day he'll also see Vlad as a finally redeemed individual. Maybe a parental Figure as well, just like the way Jazz did.Yeah maybe one day... One day.

...

"I miss her." Danny mutters under his breathe.

I'm so TIREEED GHRAAAAH notes app said this was TOO LONG, THIS IS FAR FROM "LONG" THIS IS SHORT.

@kokoroluna AS PROMISED. A TAG.

SAME WITH @ghostlyglimmer

[batsplat]

Wait what’s the tea on Valentino’s sleep patterns 👀👀 (fellow insomniac / recent motogp fan always looking for more representation)

oh yeah, if you're looking for representation for poor sleeping habits you've very much come to the right place. his sleep patterns are pretty remarkable you have to say. way too nocturnal for a professional athlete, reliant on naps to get through the race weekend, all power to him for somehow making that work and winning all those titles. pretty sure I've read somewhere that he's still known for doing sim races at ungodly hours these days, just how he lives his life

tbh I can't remember off the top of my head where I'd actually read about his sleeping patterns, but I've cobbled together a decent selection of quotes from the usual sources. the most interesting stuff he's said on the topic is in his autobiography - where he goes into rather a lot of detail about his preference for the night. given that it's quite a lengthy passage, I've chucked it under the cut. he frames his nocturnal inclination as not only suiting his natural body clock better, but also as a way of escaping the rest of the world - of being able to move around in peace and silence and anonymity. plus, he liked to spend his nights in the garage to... *pinches bridge of nose* have some special personal time with his bike, when it was just the two of them. take that as you will

before that, let's just start with a few more general descriptions of his sleeping patterns. from early in his career, jerez 1998 (from oxley's vr files):

The camper only holds two people, but that's okay. I don't like my dad to sleep with me, because when it gets to ten o'clock he starts saying: "Vale, Vale, got to bed!", but I can't go to sleep before one or two. We did share a motorhome in '96 and it made life very, very difficult for me.

and about brno 1999 (from oxley's vr files):

On weekends when I'm not racing, I never go to bed before six or seven on Sunday morning. If it's a party, maybe even later, but going to bed at six in the morning is quite normal for me! Even when I was 14 I used to go to bed at 4am. Quite often I'd be riding around the local minimoto tracks until after midnight! If I go to sleep at 11 or 12 I just lie there, my eyes wide open. Maybe I would be good for 24-hour racing!

and then a few years into his premier class career, valentino says the following (x):

'I have a lot of energy after 2am,' Rossi agreed. 'I like to sleep in the morning. I have some problems at the start of the day.'

we've also got a description of crew chief jb's influence in terms of making sure valentino wasn't slacking off by sleeping in (from oxley's vr files):

Burgess' talents aren't restricted to getting the best out of a 500. The Aussie has been in GPs for decades and knows how to extract the best from riders as well. He expects 100 per cent commitment both on the track and in the pits, and when he doesn't get that, he gives 'em hell. Some other crew chiefs won't do that - they're too overawed by their riders' superstardom. JB laid down the law last summer when late-sleeper Rossi turned up late for practice. Rossi suggested that in future one of the crew should be despatched to his motorhome each morning to make sure he was out of bed. No way, said Burgess, I'll be there to give you your wake-up call. Rossi's not overslept since.

and from 2001, in valentino's own words:

Q: Tell us about your sleeping habits, JB has had to wake you a few times for practice... VR: I never go to bed before 1 o'clock, and there's no limit on when I go to bed, but even when I go to sleep very late I always wake up at 8.30, though when I do wake up I always have a big confusion for the first five minutes, then after that I remember: "Oh fuck, I'm at world grand prix!" So I have a shower and then I'm okay. I never get up too close to riding time because the 500 is a dangerous bike so it's necessary to be awake when you climb aboard. Back in the afternoon after practice at four or five o'clock I'll sleep for another hour.

only semi-related but valentino's also talked about... you know, this generational shift - where the sport has become more professionalised, which is reflected in certain lifestyle changes (from barker's rossi biography):

"The next generation is always stronger. They are more professional, they put more effort in, they make a perfect life, they eat in a good way, they don't drink, they go to sleep early, they train every day from the morning to the night... I come from an era where the riders drank beer and smoked cigarettes!"

also plenty of talk of jet lag obviously... doesn't struggle with it too much headed westwards because he says he basically lives on american time anyway. the other direction is tougher, but in his youth he decided that he might as well try to continue living on italian time. so he essentially went racing at 5 in the morning (about phillip island 1998, from oxley's vr files):

I don't have a problem with jet lag, I always sleep. Last year in Indonesia I stayed on Italian time for the whole grand prix - so I was racing at five in the morning! But the difference is too great to do that in Australia.

how on earth are you racing motorcycles like that. mind you, he won that 1997 indonesia race

so yeah. king of disordered sleeping. given the nature of motogp schedules and how they do kind of require you to actually get up in the mornings, congrats to him for being remotely functional during race weekends. crazy how he even won the odd race

and here's the autobiography passage:

My day, usually, begins in the afternoon. It’s as if I exist inside my own personal time zone. I live at night, because I love the night. Now, this might make you think I do goodness-knows-what in the wee hours, or that I don’t live the life of a professional athlete. It’s true, I don’t live the life of an athlete in the traditional sense — early to bed, early to rise and all that — but this does not mean that I’m not careful about what I eat and drink or that I don’t train. In fact, I train a lot, both in the gym and on the bike. It’s just that I go to the gym in the afternoon, rather than the morning. Equally, when I’m training on the bike, down at the quarry, I always go in the afternoon, never at nine o'clock in the morning. My body has a certain type of metabolism. It is used to living according to a different body clock. That’s why, even if I’m travelling all over the world, I don’t experience jet lag and I rarely go to bed before 3 a.m. It’s much more likely that I’m just tucking into bed as people are leaving for work. As I say, I have a special relationship with the night. I like moving in it, living in it, thinking in it, relaxing in it. The night fascinates me, because it’s the period of least confusion. The world calms down, it goes quiet. And, besides, I’m Valentino Rossi. I’m wanted... I'm a fugitive. Yes, I’m always running away from my _ beloved countrymen. The Italians. I’m proud to be Italian, I'm proud of our merits and I regret our shortcomings. Italians are exceptional people. In every way. Even when they start loving you. Because that’s actually when problems can arise — if it’s you that the Italian falls in love with. Italian people are warm, empathetic, spontaneous. But they can also be excessive, oppressive and disrespectful. I don’t know who said that Italians will forgive everything except for success. Whoever it was, they were right. Because it’s absolutely true. After the 1997 season, I could tell I was becoming popular. Year after year, that popularity turned into fully fledged love. They’re in love with me now and, as a result, since the 2004 season, I’ve been a man on the run. And there’s no escape, no end in sight, because wherever I go they find me. There are simple things, the little pleasures in life, which I simply can’t engage in when I’m back in Italy. I can’t go to the bar and have a cappuccino, because I would not be able to drink it. To be fair, I can do it in Tavullia, but that's the only place. If I go more than a few kilometres in any direction from the centre of town, that's it, everything changes and I become, once again, a hunted man. I can’t walk into a store, look at something and decide what I want to buy. In fact, I can’t stop anywhere, not even at a petrol station. If I stop, I’m screwed. Somebody will recognise me (Italians are exceptionally good at recognising people), make a lot of noise, call other people and then, before I know it, I’ve been swallowed up by the crowd. If I schedule a meeting with someone, we have to meet in a secret, out-of-the-way location and, even then, we can't linger. I can't go to a restaurant if there are too many people inside. And if I do go, I can't go at a normal time, say eight o'clock. I have to go later, much later, when people are leaving. And I can't sit where I like, I have to hide away in a corner, in the shadows. As for places like cinemas or the beach, forget about it. They are just always off-limits.

Having said that, I do mix with people. I do it because I like doing it. It’s just that I wish I could do it as a normal person, because, deep down, I am a normal human being. This is part of the reason why I have to live at night. It would be that much tougher during the day, with all those people about. Plus, I don’t like the traffic, the chaos, the noise, all those people running all over the place, stressed out and out of breath. The night is different. Everything is softer, there are fewer people around and you are much more free. It’s like a parallel dimension. The world is different at night. Everything is different. That’s why I’ve assimilated the lyrics of a song by the Italian artist Jovanotti, “Gente. della notte” (“People of the night”). It has become my personal anthem. Jovanotti is one of my favourite singers and I find myself agreeing with him on most things. I love his work. What else can I say? The night is my reality. And I don’t change just because Grands Prix are scheduled during the day. My way of being and living is reflected in what I do during races. I don’t really change. Obviously, I don’t go to bed at dawn, but let’s just say that when I do, finally, go to bed, there aren’t many people around. Everything is better at night in the paddock. There is silence, the people _ have disappeared and, with them, the chaos. I can wander around freely, most of all I can enjoy the empty pit area and my bike. Yes, my bike. Because at night I often slip into the team garage. At some races I do it every single night, because I love being with my bike. My night-time activities can be traced back to the years racing in 125cc, and are directly tied to my passion for aesthetics and the stickers, which would later become my obsession. I don’t leave anything to chance'when it comes to choosing the colour or the stickers for my bike. That’s why I’ve always been central to any and all discussions when we were deciding the aesthetics of my racing bikes. I’ve done it always, with every bike, at every level, with every team. And, naturally, I still do it today. Nobody has ever been allowed to attach a single sticker to my bike, unless it was the logo of a technical sponsor. Until a few years ago I was totally inflexible about this. Now, Roby takes care of the number: he attaches it because then he needs to cover it in transparent paint. But apart - from -this, which is primarily a technical procedure anyway, I take care of everything else to do with the stickers. And this takes time and planning, which is why I started going to the garage at night. During the day it is packed with people. There are mechanics, technicians and others around. I would just get in the way, if I wanted to get near the bike just to check the stickers. As I got older and progressed from 125 to 250 and then to 500 and on to MotoGP, I maintained that passion for aesthetics and stickers, as well as the habit of dropping in on the team garage at night. I enjoy the bike during the day _ obviously, but my relationship with the bike is so special that I can spend hours with it, just looking and admiring it, making sure that everything is in order. Those are very personal moments which I find difficult to describe. The Japanese guys, both the executives but also the engineers never knew this, not the guys at Honda, not the ones at Yamaha. I don’t think they would really understand. They would probably view it as a waste of time, since I don’t actually do anything concrete. I never touch anything to do with the bike itself, beyond, obviously, the stickers. And yet I find it hard to explain to an engineer that I enjoy simply being near the bike, even when I’m not doing anything. It’s a complicated concept to explain: the risk is that people will think that you're crazy.

During the day everything happens so quickly, frenetically, neurotically. However, there is a sacrosanct moment when I need to step away and isolate myself. Once my commitment to the team is over, usually around 5.30 p.m., I retire to my motorhome, relax and take a nap. It usually lasts a couple hours and then I go out. There’s always something to do after dinner. Of course, the range of options depends on how many friends are around. I really start enjoying the paddock around ten o'clock at night. Before going to sleep I check on the bike again and then I go into the team motorhome, which serves as an office. Now that I’m at Yamaha, I have an office all to myself. That’s where I keep all my race gear. I do this for two reasons. My own personal motorhome is an absolute mess, nothing more fits in there and I probably couldn’t find anything amid all the junk. Plus, the office is where I change into my racing suit before going out on to the track. Thus, at night, after going to the pits to see the bike, I go to make sure that all my stuff is where it should be: gloves, suit, socks, boots . . . everything needs to be perfect, because I just don’t have time in the morning to hunt around for stuff. Thus, each morning I have to follow a very precise routine. I’m like a robot, everything is the same each day. Because the truth is that I need to be like clockwork. I just don’t have the time to think. Somebody generally comes to wake me up — usually it’s Jeremy, because he doesn’t trust my ability to wake up on my own! I then get up, wash my face (my eyes are still shut at this point) and try to stay awake as I ride the scooter from the motorhome to the pits. I then go up to the office and get dressed. There too everything is done mechanically. It takes the slightest hiccup to throw everything off, forcing me to be late to the testing.

"I find it hard to explain to an engineer that I enjoy simply being near the bike, even when I’m not doing anything. it’s a complicated concept to explain: the risk is that people will think that you're crazy" well -

[innorogers]

Nightmare

Steve Rogers x Reader (You)

Summary: Steve stood in front of the mirror, staring back at him, was a man madly in love. But as much as he wanted to be only that—just a man in love—he wasn’t. Falling so hard for you that he didn’t want to face the reality. There was still a world beyond your home, and he had to face it.

Warning: Minors DNI / A little smut / bj / Angst / Hydra Past / Missunderstandings / He wants to say I love you / This is getting dark as the WB logos in HP movies / Strugglings / He is so in love with you / Your past is coming back and kick your both asses

Characters: OC, Tony Stark, Maria Hill, Bruce Banner, Natasha Romanoff, Sam Wilson

Also: You don't have to read the previous chapters, but it would enhance the experience if you did. And thanks in advance for repost or any feedback ❤️

Chapter 1: Insomnia | Chapter 2: Lucid | Chapter 3: Reverie

“God…!” Steve's head falls back, his body arching, knuckles turning white as he holds on tightly onto the sheets, moans ragged and labored, his chest rising and falling covered in sweat.

His hand tucking your hair, trying to be as gentle as possible, but he is finding that impossible. As you fasten your mouth and hand movements, more deep breaths are escaping his lips as waves of pleasure wash over him. 

"Babe... that feels so good... don't stop... Please don't stop..."

Your quickened pace is driving him more and more over the edge, as suddenly his entire body lost in pleasure, his head falling back onto the pillow behind him, the sheets gripping tightly in his hands as he releases warm and low in your mouth. 

“Jesus…” His body shuddering as he came hard, thoroughly quenched til the very last drop, his breath coming in gasps and pants, not being able to speak as he looks at you: puffy lips, disheveled hair, sweat drops in your perfect breasts, your silky skin marked with his handprints all over body, and you were wiping your lips. 

“Damn...” He pulls you close for a kiss, still breathing heavily, as if trying to recover from his ecstasy. “Babe, don’t… look at me like that… or I’m gonna lose it... again.”

“Wait, what?” You laugh, stepping out of bed. “That’s on me?! I didn’t do anything this time.” You were barely awake when he started. It’s not like it’s your fault you weren’t wearing anything from last night.

“That’s... arguable.” Steve murmurs, sinking back into the pillows, still riding the high of the moment. His breathing starts to slow, but then he notices you’re already in the bathroom. “Wait, no cuddling?!”

“We’ve been ‘cuddling’ all night!” You call from the shower. “And... we’ve talked about this. Tony is gonna be here in an hour.” And I don’t want to smell like sex.

Steve chuckles in resignation, raising his voice so you can hear him over the water. “Can I join you?”

“We both know how that’s gonna end…”

“Yeah, yeah, alright...” he laughs, reluctantly pulling himself out of bed, grabs his discarded clothes, making a half-hearted attempt to tidy the room. “God, we made a mess in here, didn’t we?”

By the time you’re out of the shower, the room is already cleaned up (he's done his best). It’s a far cry from how things used to be: Steve's things are everywhere now. His toothbrush in your bathroom, clothes hanging in your closet, some files scattered on the desk in your lab that's across from your private dorm.

You’re not even sure when it happened, but your secluded, tucked away 20 minutes from the main Avengers compound lab, has become more than just yours. It makes sense, actually, he wasn’t leaving at night. Or in the mornings. Or... really, ever.

At first, Steve would come over for dates. Then those dates turned into 'I'll come by later' and eventually into 'whenever he had the chance.' Now his mug is in the sink, his slippers are under your bed, and his coat has claimed a permanent spot by the door.

He’s here. So, naturally, Sam and Natasha started coming by too. 

They didn’t want to at first—especially after Tony warned them: Don’t go near the place if the windows are foggy or steamed. And the first time they showed up, the windows were, in fact, foggy. 

So, they waited outside, feeding the mosquitoes and staring at the overgrown grass.

But they had important “For your eyes only” files, and waiting beat facing Commander Hill’s irritation later. After counting all the daisies in the field—twice—they finally gave in. Sam knocked (covering his eyes), you answered (fully dressed), and they came in for a cup of tea. A carrot cake later, they became regulars.

Your lab has a charm they can’t resist: plants hang from every corner, spilling over shelves and framing the windows that let in the golden sunlight. The warm, earthy scent of the greenery mixes with the subtle perfume from your humidifiers. A soft glow of the sunlight filters through, casting a golden hue over everything. The kitchen always smells like freshly baked cookies, and the tea is good, but the coffee is great. 

Your space feels like a hidden sanctuary in the sunset. And amidst all this, there’s a relaxed and laughing, perfectly at home Steve. One that they’ve never seen before.

So of course, big boss Mr. Stark wasn’t going to be excluded.

“Remind me again why he’s coming?” Steve asked as he stepped into the shower. You were brushing your teeth, and he leaned over to kiss your shoulder, and…Yup, you were right; he knew exactly how things would’ve ended if he’d joined you earlier.

“I don’t know… there’s no meeting agenda. But technically, we are living in his compound, so…” you said, now brushing your hair and spritzing perfume. Then, after a pause, you added, “I think it has something to do with the New Era Project.”

Steve didn’t respond right away, but you caught the frown on his face through the steam of the shower. “Are you part of that?” he asked after a moment.

“Nope.” You began towel-drying your hair. “I don’t make or design weapons. I just fix your gear and armory and… sometimes I pitch cool new ideas to Tony during brainstorm sessions. You know, Level A clearance, remember?”

Steve chuckled—yeah, he remembered. You had access to all files and records, but only if Tony Stark himself granted it. Actually, he was the only one who could authorize your access and tokens. There were only two people in the entire organization with that kind of clearance: you and Peter Parker.

Your existence here was… special. Only level 3 and above tech personnel knew about you, and they practically worshiped you. You were the one who “optimized their code, fine-tuned algorithms that seemed impossible to crack, recalibrated testing protocols when simulations failed, and stepped in when machines were on the verge of catastrophic failure.” (That was Bruce’s wording. Steve didn't get shit of what he said, just referred to you as “my brilliant genius who fixes all that stuff.”) And the thing that stood out the most? You never took credit for the successes.

Selfless. That was the word Tony used when describing you. But he also said: “And that drives me nuts, because when you lack human ambition, what’s going to keep you around, right?”

Human ambition. The phrase echoed in Steve’s mind as he turned off the water with a sigh. He knew he had been avoiding the truth. Falling so hard for you that he didn’t want to face the reality. There was more to you than he fully understood, and deep down, he wasn’t sure he was ready to know the whole truth.

“I’ll make coffee,” you called from outside, interrupting his thoughts. “You staying for breakfast, or heading straight to training?”

“Yeah, I’ll stay for coffee,” he replied, wrapping a towel around himself and standing in front of the mirror. 

There, staring back at him, was a man madly in love. But as much as he wanted to be only that—just a man in love—he wasn’t. There was still a world beyond your lab, and he had to face it.

He sighed again, suspecting exactly what Tony was going to discuss with you.

The coffee was ready, and croissants were on the table when Tony arrived. He greeted you with a cheek kiss and smirked at Steve, who was just walking out the bathroom with a towel around his waist. 

“There’s a scene I thought I’d never see.” Tony quipped as you placed a mug in front of him. “Aren’t you late, Cap?”

“Aren’t you early?” Steve shot back from the room.

“Actually, I’m late. I hung out in the car for a bit.” Tony tilted his head toward the window, a mocking grin spreading across his face. “The windows were steamed up, so I…” he clicked his tongue, “didn’t want to interrupt.” 

He turned to you, smiling. “This coffee’s great, hon. Any chance you’d consider making it a regular thing in the common room?”

“No. She wouldn’t,” Steve answered, now dressed in his training gear. He kissed you goodbye, shaking his head with a smirk. “Sorry babe, gotta go. Guess you were right, I am late.”

Tony shot him an I told you so look. 

“Coffee.” you said, handing Steve a travel mug, then cupped his face with a smile. “Kiss.”

Inhaling your fresh perfume, Steve sighed, enchanted, as he leaned down to kiss you. “Thanks…” He held back the I love you that nearly escaped his lips.

“Get something to eat after training, okay?” you said casually, unaware of how close he was to confessing.

“Yes ma’am.” He gave you a lingering glance, clearly wanting another kiss—or a few—before turning to Tony. “Easy, ok?” he warned.

“You hear that, hon? Easy on me,” Tony said with a grin, raising his mug to wave Steve off. “See you later, Cap.”

As the door closed behind Steve, Tony looked at you, “You know… that’s the best I’ve seen him in years.” He mused, his fingers tracing the rim of his mug. 

Then, after a brief pause, with a playful smile. “And the best I’ve seen of you, of course.”

You smiled back. “It’s not like you’ve been around much to see me anyway.” You patted his hand. 

“Not that I’m complaining. You’ve given me all the quiet and peace I could ever ask for.” You glanced down at the table with a soft smile. “And purpose.”

Tony stayed silent as the golden morning light filtered through the windows, casting lines of warmth and shadow across the table.

“Did you… tell him?” he asked, hesitating just as the light reached his mug.

“No. I, um…” You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m scared.”

“God,” he sighed in resignation. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. And…” he shook his head, rolling his eyes, “I think his problem will eventually be, ‘Why didn’t you come sooner?’” 

He huffed. “It’s your call, but trust me—he always wants to know the truth, no matter how hard it might be.”

“I know. It’s just…” You admitted quietly, “I’m scared of him being… disappointed.”

“Then he can fuck off,” Tony shot back without hesitation, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “And die alone on his moral highlands.”

You laughed. Tony always knew how to make you laugh. After a few moments, you softened and asked, “What’s wrong, Tony? What’s really troubling you?”

“You mean besides the fact that one of my top-secret employees, whom I’ve kept hidden from everyone’s sight for years, is actually dating… I mean, no, we’re way past dating, right? I’d say… in a relationship with one of the most famous men in the world, who’s also the high commander of this… you know, little group of heroes that saves the universe from time to time? Yeah, there’s actually one tiny, tiny thing that keeps me awake at night…”

You sipped your coffee, still smiling. “What?”

“I’m having second thoughts about the New Era Project.”

You raised your eyebrows, and asked after some pause. “Do you want me to join?” Because you would, if he asked.

“No.” He was firm. “No, it’s not that. I’d never ask you to do that. It’s just… I’m having trouble piecing everything together. I don’t have the full picture. ” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. 

“The UN have been a pain in my ass since I flew out in a can suit in Afghanistan, but now… they’re... They’re being… nice.”

“And that’s a bad thing.” You raised an eyebrow, not sure whether you were asking or confirming.

“It’s incredibly dangerous and extremely suspicious.”

“I thought our little demonstration of power during Thanos would’ve made everyone play nice,” you said, grimacing as if to say, Duh.

“They even offered to cancel the Sokovian Accords.”

“Wait, what?” You blinked, surprised. “Is that even still a thing? I thought after the Blip…”

“Nobody had the time or the mood to talk about that during the Snap, so it just stayed there.” Tony explained, handing you his mug as you stood up to refill it.

“Well, that’s a generous offer,” you said, pouring more coffee. “But as you said…”

You paused, thinking for a moment.

“If rationality and facts can’t give you the full picture, maybe intuition will.” You sat back down, placing the mug in front of Tony. “What does your gut tell you? Animal instincts in the face of danger are 99% accurate, you know.”

Tony’s eyes flickered with uncertainty. “I don’t know. That’s what’s keeping me up at night. We’ve faced big threats before, but this... this feels different. Like they’re not reacting to a threat, but preparing for one.”

“Patience.” you murmured.

“Say what?” Tony hadn’t caught it.

“The Art of War,” you recalled. “‘He who is prudent and lies in wait for an enemy who is not, will be victorious.’” You nodded. “So if the picture isn’t clear, you wait for them to make the first move.”

That look crossed Tony’s face—the one he wore when you or Bruce finished a thought before him, or when you completed a task well before the deadline with an unexpected approach. The “finally, someone speaking my language” look.

“They’ve already made the first move, haven’t they?” you observed him closely.

Tony sat up, a slight smile of pride tugging at his lips. “Yes. They’re sending someone to… cooperate.”

“So… how do I fit into all this?” you asked quietly. “Strategies of war, deciphering enemy intentions, gathering intel, hacking systems… you’ve got quite a  team for that. The Team. How can I help?”

Tony sighed, leaning back in his chair as the sunlight shifted, casting shadows across the room. He paused, staring out the window before turning back to you, something close to worry in his eyes for the first time. 

“You fit in because you’re one of the few people I trust to see things clearly. No agenda. No ego. You can do things quietly, behind the scenes. And, frankly, you’re smarter than half the people working on this project…” He hesitated and added with a smirk, “...or the entire compound.”

After a brief pause, Tony confessed in a giving up tone. 

“And because I need your superpowers to sense if this guy is hiding something—something that our metal detectors and scanners can’t catch. These days, I don’t even trust that the people we meet are… well, human. Thanks to Danvers.”

Just like at the opening ceremony, he needed you to assess if there was anything suspicious about the people present. You nodded in understanding.

“Who are they sending?” 

There were two files in front of him, both giving him the same headache. And Steve didn’t wanted to start with either of them. 

One was yours: HE0012, “Twelve.” Your code name—Hydra Experiment Number Twelve—and your real name, (If Twelve could even considered a name, but that was they’d given to you) both stamped on a complete profile folder of your classified information: layers upon layers of secrecy wrapped around your past, barely considered something near light reading.

The second file, labeled “FYEO - New Era Project” was a brick of a report, hundreds of pages long, more of a book than a document. It detailed, in excruciating pain-ass precision, the project's goal: a forced reconciliation between the Avengers and Stark Industries. The initiative was meant to foster collaborative research and development of cutting-edge technologies designed to bolster global defense systems.

Officially, the report framed it as ensuring global protection “in case of need,” but Steve knew the truth beneath the diplomatic phrasing. It was about weapons—gear, tools, anything needed to combat the next alien invasion, or any kind of catastrophic threat Earth might face.

Steve remembered Tony’s struggle with this report, how the stress weighed on him. Tony had been stuck between igniting another Civil War or throwing the damn thing in the nearest firepit. 

But seems now, that Tony had done what Tony does best: handed the problem to Steve.

Damn it, Tony.

“Captain.” Jarvis’s polite voice sounded through the nearest screen. “A guest has just entered the main building. Agent Charles Frazer from the New Era Special Committee has been announced.”

Steve sighed, shoving both files aside. He couldn’t even catch a break. “Background?” He asked as he glanced at the screen, pulling up Frazer’s information.

“Agent Frazer is currently serving with the UN Special Commission, previously tasked with supervising enhanced human activities under the Sokovian Accords. Before that, he was a top agent at MI6.” Jarvis relayed in his usual, steady tone.

“Great. I’ll meet him in the lobby. Where’s Tony?”

“Sir is en route from R&D 001 and will arrive in three and a half minutes. Agent Frazer is already in the lobby, Captain.”

“Fine.” Steve muttered, standing up. “Also ask Commander Hill to meet us there.”

From the second-floor glass railing, Steve looked down and spotted Frazer standing in the waiting area. The man was definitely an agent, but his military background was obvious in the way he stood—rigid, alert, scanning the room, it all pointed to someone used to being on guard, despite his polite, diplomatic smile and the small nods he gave to passing staff. 

After a moment of observation, Steve made his way downstairs before Frazer could notice he was being watched.

“Agent.” Steve greeted, extending a firm hand.

“Captain.” Charles Frazer responded with a wide, courteous smile. One that appeared genuine but not intrusive. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Steve was about to continue when Tony, Bruce, and you entered the room, caught up in a heated conversation.

“…so wait, are you telling me the material adapted in real-time? Enhanced its resistance with every applied force threshold—like it learned from the stress points?” Bruce’s voice was filled with astonished excitement.

“Yeah, we saw a 32% increase in tensile strength under standard shear stress.” You replied softly, barely looking up from your coffee mug.

“What about quantum resonance feedback?” Tony waved a hand, pressing for more details. “Is it boosting absorption capabilities?”

“It’s actually forming a self-reinforcing lattice that distributes the force across the entire molecular framework, but…” You trailed off as you noticed Steve. A soft smile lit up your face, your eyes brightening upon seeing him.

Steve, for a split second, returned the smile but quickly recovered his professional demeanor. “Dr. Lancaster,” he greeted you, then nodded to the others. “Tony, Bruce—this is Agent…”

A loud crash cut him off. 

Steve whipped around to see you standing there, your face as pale as your lab coat. Your mug lay shattered on the floor, coffee splattered across your clothes, but you didn’t seem to notice. Your gaze was locked on Agent Frazer’s face, your breath frozen, your body completely still.

“…Four?” The word barely escaped your lips, a whisper under the weight of everyone’s surprise.

Agent Frazer’s reaction was almost identical. 

His confident smile vanished in an instant—from confusion, to shock, and then to an almost frozen state mirroring yours, his eyes reflected the same haunting familiarity. It wasn’t just shock; it was a mix of fear, disbelief, and perhaps even something darker—like a flood of old memories being unlocked all at once. 

For a moment, the two of you stood there, staring at each other in stunned silence. Slowly, Frazer’s gaze locked onto yours, and recognition began to settle over his face. He slowly lifted a trembling hand toward your chin, his voice cracking as he murmured, “Twelve?”

“How…?”

“Let’s take this to a more private room.” Tony, ever the first to break the silence, said firmly even before you could go on. His eyes weren’t on you—they were glued to Steve, gauging his reaction.

Steve stood rigid, his jaw was set, his face unreadable as he observed the silent exchange between you and Frazer. 

“Yes, let’s do that.” Steve said, his voice firm but soft. A few people in the background had started to notice the unusual scene unfolding and were beginning to glance your way. So it was to act quickly.  He stepped closer to you, a part of him instinctively wanting to put a hand on your shoulder, or hold your hand to offer some comfort in the midst of the shock, but he hesitated. His hand hovered for a second before he drew it back. 

As the group moved to a quieter, more secluded room, the air was thick with unspoken questions, and no one dared to break the fragile silence. All eyes were on you and Agent Frazer, as though the past had suddenly come crashing into the present, and no one was sure how to navigate the ruins.

You met with Commander Hill in the middle of the hallway. She quickly noted the tension in the unusual group, scanning Agent Frazer as fast as she could with her x-ray inspection mode and cautious glare. 

“Is… everything okay?” She instantly reacted, reading the room. “Meeting 9 is available.” She looked at Steve and Tony and communicated in their own silent way: And it’s ready.

Ready meant that the room could provide total privacy while also functioning as the most advanced interrogation room. Everything would be recorded, with real-time facial expression analysis by Friday or Jarvis. The room’s ambiance would shift according to participants' moods, creating the most relaxing and comforting environment possible, encouraging the participants to say anything and everything that needed to be known.

But of course, you didn’t know that, and neither did Agent Frazer— or Four. You hadn’t yet recovered from the shock, so you barely heard Tony when he said, “We’ll just leave you to it,” or noticed the worried look Steve had given you. You didn’t look back; your eyes remained locked on Four’s.

“How…” You broke the silence after a long pause, sensing that both your breaths had softened. You began to regain some rationality and composure. “How did you escape? I… I thought you were dead…” 

Four closed his eyes for a moment, trying to stay as calm as possible.

He didn’t know where to start with.

“I was…” 

He didn’t look at you; his gaze was fixed on the floor, lost in some distant moment from the past. 

“The cryostasis pod that held me…malfunctioned, but instead of shutting down, it went into some sort of low-energy survival mode—almost like it was trying to protect me. Left me hanging on the edge of life, just the basics kept intact.” 

His accent was you remembered, a perfect blend of British and Russian, a strange yet polished combination of both. He talked as in Times New Roman. 

“I reckon I stayed that way for years… like being stuck in some frozen limbo. Like wandering in some desert between hell and heaven.” 

Four’s lips curled into a fragile, ironic smile: “That Hydra fortress in Caithness was too well-hidden. I’d have gone unnoticed until I wasted away, but when Hydra fell, every strategic spot on the globe became suspicious. British intel ran sweeps over the area… and they found me.”

You remained silent, memories flashing through your mind. You knew why the cryostasis pod had malfunctioned in the first place. 

After the Battle of New York, the remaining Hydra forces had started shutting down their less critical underground fortresses. Caithness, where Four was held, had probably been vital during the war, but your files were far too confidential, buried too deep to be easily retrieved. That place must have been overlooked as obsolete.

Then came the Battle in Washington, when Steve crushed Hydra for good, and Black Widow exposed Hydra’s files, Caithness would have landed on British radar.

The world had been holding its breath, watching the Avengers’ actions since New York. 

It wouldn’t surprise you if British intelligence wanted to keep Four for their own research—a super soldier hidden, repaired, filled with selective truths, and molded into a loyal agent. Their own secret Avenger, integrated into their best special forces.

“They kept your memory?” you asked softly, almost afraid of the answer.

“Bits of it.” Four replied, offering a smile, sensing your concern. He wanted to ease the pain of what he’d gone through during his rebirth. “Britain’s tech wasn’t as advanced as Hydra’s.” 

He glanced around and sighed. “And they were definitely far away from… this. They didn’t push it too far, just in case it might… break me and ruin everything.”

“Do you remember… everything?” you asked, finally looking into his eyes.

“Not everything. Just pieces, fragments. Sometimes I get flashbacks in my dreams…” Four’s eyes softened as he looked at you, a faint smile touching his lips, his voice tender with nostalgia. 

“You were a brilliant tree climber... I remember that odd old oak tree deep in the forest. Grand and ancient. You’d scramble up to the top branches and shake them until the leaves fell, making a pile on the ground. Then Five and Seven would dash over and dive in, like a pair of foxes.”

“And once, you hid a rock under the leaves, and Seven jumped right onto it…” You were lost in the memory too.

“He hit it so hard…” Four chuckled, his gaze drifting to that long-lost time. 

“We did everything to stop the bleeding before heading back, but he looked like…”

“A smashed tomato can.” You both said at the same time. And then you both laughed.

“I was grounded, of course. Bloody big time.” Four leaned back in his chair. “Six days of detention because, naturally, our blood was ‘precious,’ and Seven’s was everywhere. They had to clean up so thoroughly, it was like they burned the place down.”

“And you came by on the fifth night…” Four’s went gentle, as if telling a bedtime story. “You snuck in and gave me a piece of bread. And a golden leaf.”

He reached out and took your hand, squeezing it tight.

“I’m so glad to see you, little sister.” His voice was filled with pain. 

“When I woke up… I thought I was alone in this world.”

“Me too.” You whispered, though your eyes were elsewhere, lost in the shadows of the past. 

“Me too…”

Steve could feel his teeth clenching. He tried desperately to release the pressure building in his fists, but the anger was overwhelming. 

He suddenly understood why he hadn’t been able to even open your file before—it was fear. He didn’t want to feel this powerless, like he does now, knowing there was nothing he could do to change what you’d been through.

Tony might have made a joke, something like, “Well, at least he’s only her brother.” but Steve could sense the tension in his voice.

“This is so…” Fucked up. Sam stood beside Steve, watching closely. “Any lie detected?”

“Facial analysis shows 99% veracity. The 1% is due to human factors beyond my calculations.” Friday’s voice echoed through the room.

“If the story’s true, it’s not impossible,” Natasha chimed in, raising an eyebrow. “When the files went public, someone must have taken action.”

“It just smells like there’s a cat hidden in the closet, y’all know?” Sam muttered, arms crossed, shaking his head. “Like, really? Now? The agent overseeing all this Sokovia Accords 2.0 stuff just so happens to be ex-Hydra, ex-experiment, and he shows up now? Like literally walking right to her. Now? When she’s…” He gestured pointedly. “With Steve? Why not before?”

“Maybe he was gone during the Blip?” Natasha suggested. “Look, I’m just trying to figure this out. Not saying the guy’s a saint, but…”

She glanced at Steve, who had turned into some kind of statue, staring at the screen, trying to read your every move, every reaction.

“We do have ex-Hydras doing just fine…” Bucky is one. You are one. Natasha didn’t say it, but it hung in the air, unspoken yet clear.

“Alright, first things first.” Maria stepped in, standing next to Steve. “What do we do with this guy? He’s still carrying the UN Special title, and…” She pulled up his file. “One thing’s for sure—his records are impeccable. At least on paper.”

Steve didn’t respond. His eyes remained fixed on the screen, where you were holding hands with Four. It wasn’t romantic, he could tell. You were pressing his hand, patting his back. You looked relaxed. The painful part of remembering was over, and now you were chatting about his life after MI6 gave him a new identity.

And you were smiling. You tilted your head slightly, something you always did when listening intently.

“Tony.” Steve suddenly spoke up, his voice low but steady. “Why are you so quiet?”

Steve hadn’t raised his voice, but the room instantly turned to Iron Man.

“Maybe I have nothing to say.”

“Or maybe it’s because I don’t want to know the answer.” Steve shot back, his tone sharper now. He didn’t say it aloud, but Tony knew. He knew exactly why Steve was looking at him like that.

But as always, Tony didn’t flinch under Steve’s scrutinizing glare, nor did he step back.

“I think Dr. Lancaster is just the perfect person for this job.” Tony said, quietly but with precision, locking eyes with Steve.

“Fuck! Tony!” Steve’s fists slammed down on the desk so hard that everything on it bounced. “She’s out of the New Era Project.” he said, gritting his teeth.

“She’s Level A.” Tony stepped closer, meeting Steve’s gaze up close. 

“And she happens to be top of R&D. Yes, I asked her to be here this morning, to check on this guy… just like she’s been doing since day one when she entered this compound.”

“So yeah, she can show him around, talk about super-intelligent things that normal people won’t understand, as long as it fits within the clearance I’ve given her. It’s not like I’m ordering her to do anything.”

Tony leaned in even closer to Steve’s face. “You can stay and hang out if you want. But seriously… and this is me being brutally honest, like you’ve always wanted.” His voice was calm, firm, unwavering. 

“Did you really think you could keep her out of this? Out of your life? Our life?”

He opened his arms slightly, giving Steve a knowing look. “Stop acting as your decisions are better than hers, Steve. She knew exactly what she was signing up for.”

“I’m honored, but my pressure it’s on its peaks.” Four muttered, walking beside you down the long aisle that led from “Sustainable Technologies & Environmental Innovation” to the “Space Exploration & Interstellar Travel Engineering” hall.

You chuckled softly, shaking your head as you caught the reflection in the sleek glass walls: a serious, determined, and ‘touch my girl by a hair and I’ll kill the fuck out of you’ Steve, and a ‘I have so much more important and real shit to deal with right now than this’ face Maria walking behind you. 

“I mean I’m just a public employee. I expected both high commanders to receive me, but not to walk us all the way.” Four teased: “Remember when we had to escort the king during the war?”

“I thought that was the proudest day of your life.”

“It was, until this.” Four laughed, letting out a long, amused sigh after a pause. Then, more sincerely, “But you should be proud too, Twelve. Look at what you’ve accomplished.”

Four’s gaze lifted, drawn to the towering structures and intricate technology around him—robotics designed to repair spacecraft mid-flight, drones engineered for planetary terraforming. His eyes followed the sleek contours of prototype exosuits encased behind glass, shimmering with the pulse of energy cores yet to be tested.

Even with all the cutting-edge tech he’d seen around the world, he couldn’t help but admire the scale of innovation unfolding here—the flawless precision, the harmony between form and function, and the dedication and sense of unity the folks around here were putting on their work.

“Everything here... it’s like stepping into the future.” he said, his voice carrying a rare note of awe. “Back in the day, we only dreamt of machines like this. Now it’s real. I can feel the intelligence in the air, the potential of what this place can do.”

He paused in front of an android prototype, its sensors lighting up as though acknowledging his presence.

“This is what happens when visionaries are free to play with the impossible. And you are part of it. You should be proud. It’s the realization of everything we once hoped for. ”

Steve and Maria exchanged a glance at his words, and Steve’s gaze immediately shifted to you. He was desperate for you to turn, to look at him the way you always did—like you understood him without a single word needing to be spoken. But since the moment you walked out of Room 9 with Four, your gaze hadn’t found his. Not once.

You stayed silent upon your brother’s words. Your gaze was still, serene, and silent. There was no emotion beyond that on your face. Your eyes rested lightly on Four's expressions, then moved softly to the equipment he was examining. You were as still as a pond on a windless day. And your eyes…Steve could always interpret the emotions they held, if you offered him a glimpse, but you never did.

“Is it?” you murmured, emotionless. Neither Four nor Maria caught it, but Steve did. And it sent a cold shiver down his spine.

He watched you, hoping—no, needing—you to turn around, to meet his eyes with the same openness you always had. He knew you could feel his gaze, feel his desperate hope that you would just look at him. But you didn’t. You kept walking a few steps behind Four, and the space between you and Steve grew wider with every step.

He wanted to call your name, to pull you aside, to ask if you were okay, if this was too much for you. But something held him back. What if you didn’t respond the way he hoped? What if Four’s presence here was dragging you back into the person you were before? What if you weren’t the person he had fallen so deeply in love with? And what if… what if you didn’t love him back the way he loved you? Or worse, what if you were still exactly what Hydra wanted you to be? 

What if…this is the real you?

Steve’s heart was at war with itself. He had fought through battles where the stakes were higher than anything he could imagine here, but the battlefield of emotions felt far more treacherous. His love for you was the one thing he held onto with unyielding certainty—something unshakable. But now, he felt it flickering, like a candle fighting to stay lit in a growing storm.

Every time he looked at you, searching for a sign that you still belonged to him in the way he believed you did, it felt like reaching out for something just beyond his grasp.

It wasn’t the distance you kept from him physically that hurt the most. It was the emotional wall—thick, invisible, but undeniably there. His rationale, the part of him that always tried to be fair, tried to stay calm, told him not to jump to conclusions, not to doubt you. But the love-struck, emotional side of him—the part that saw you as his everything—was falling down into the vast uncertain sea of fear.

Four’s voice pulled him back from his thoughts, he was talking in low, but Steve overheard anyway.

“What are you really working on?” He was genuinely curious: “I’ve always known you were the best of us in intelligence but…this is…” he said in an obvious ‘wow’: “Mr. Stark said that you are on top of R&D, and you are also guiding the way, so I bet it is something…dramatic.”

“I can show you my workspace.” You smirk quietly, your voice a little bit proud, as a sibling that wanted to show off her new toys: “It’s not…dramatic. At least not complicated for you to read.”

“I…” Steve spoke up at the same time he frowned, but held back on calling out your name: “Dr. Lancaster. I don’t think…”

“We’ll be fine, Captain.” You interrupted him, but he could only see your back when you answered, still not looking back for a second: “I’ve got the clearance, no worries.” You said as you walked straight forward without hesitation.

Of course, you weren't leading Four to your lab—your home with Steve, your recluse sanctuary out of the compounds. That would’ve been too much. Even for Steve, it would’ve crossed a line he couldn’t forgive, and you weren’t a monster, like, duh. 

Instead, you led Four toward your personal workspace. Or how Tony liked to call it: "the genius playroom", where cutting-edge tech, half-finished projects, and too many abandoned coffee mugs cluttered the surfaces—remnants of late-night brainstorming sessions with him and Bruce.

The room was chaotic brilliance in its purest form. Holographic models of Stark tech hovered in the air like suspended thoughts, caught in an endless cycle of innovation. Transparent screens flashed data faster than any normal person could process: only a select few could follow the constant stream of figures and projections (Three, actually, if Wakandian minds, or Dr. Cho weren't around). Half-assembled drones and sleek energy cores, still pulsating with untapped potential, were scattered around workbenches. Tony’s famous bean bag chairs—“sometimes the ass needs to think before the brain catches up”—occupied one corner, breaking the space's otherwise high-tech aesthetic.

The room was alive with invention, buzzing with the frenetic energy of genius minds always in motion. It was your playground, your escape, and the damn Thursday’s night that you couldn’t make it home and Steve's always resent.

“Bloody hell...” Four’s voice broke through the hum of machinery as he stepped into the room. His eyes widened, slowly sweeping across the multitude of inventions and half-finished designs. 

"This is... whoa...little sister, you did find your spot in the world, didn't you?" he muttered, genuine awe in his voice.

You watched him, standing close enough to catch every flicker of his gaze, how his eyes darted from one holographic projection to the next, lingering just a bit too long. As if he was, scanning.

"Well, welcome to The Crib." You said with a casual shrug, already moving toward one of the many touchscreens embedded into the workbenches. You tapped a few commands, and the room sprang to life. Holographic blueprints of your latest projects filled the space between you and Four.

"Where the magic is born. Core of the Avengers and Stark Industries inventions, we usually break a lot of rules here...and stuff, too."

Behind you, Steve and Maria stepped into the room, but your focus remained on the task at hand. Your heart began racing so fast it was going out of your chest, but you pushed it aside. You had work to do.

And a sense of unease gnawed at Steve, making his hair stand on end and his senses become hyper-alert. There was something wrong. Really wrong. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but a chill crawled up his spine, making his muscles tense.

He exchanged a glance with Maria—she felt it too. The air was too thick, too still. He could hear your heart beating, too fast, too loud.

You kept moving, subtly positioning yourself near the wall, your body shielding a button—one Steve hadn’t noticed before.

“Four?” Your voice was soft and casual. You were watching him carefully, studying his reactions like you were dissecting his every move.

“Mhm?” He didn’t look back, his attention still locked on the blueprints projected across the room, soaking up every detail.

“When did you say we escorted the king?” You leaned against the wall, arms crossed, your position relaxed, but gaze distant. “Was it at the beginning of the war? Or when it was almost over?”

“Beginning. Why?” Four turned to face you, a smile still hanging on his lips. “Why do you ask?”

“Because we were Hydra back then.” You said, voice level but resolute. “We didn’t escort people. Not the alliance, at least.”

Four’s smile faltered. It froze on his face.

“Who are you?” Your voice remained calm, but there was a razor edge beneath the surface. “And why are you pretending to be my brother?”

"Shit!" Maria immediately pulled out her gun, aiming straight at Four—no, Agent Frazer's—head, her finger tight on the trigger.

Steve stayed still, fists clenched, eyes rapidly calculating every option in the room: the exits, the distance between you and Four, and how fast he could get to either of you. In a matter of seconds, hundreds of plans flashed through his mind, each one detailing how things could go down.

Four's face remained calm, but the shift in his eyes betrayed him. The mask of the amiable older brother slipped, revealing the cold, calculating operative underneath—the same one who had greeted Captain America this morning: the perfect spy, shifting personas like a chameleon, adapting to every situation.

A slow, smug smile curled across his lips, replacing the affectionate facade he wore seconds ago.

"How did you know?" he asked, tilting his head, examining you. He seemed almost impressed by your unflinching calm, as if you'd been expecting this all along.

"'It's the realization of everything we once hoped for.'" Your gaze was unwavering, your tone even as you repeated his earlier words.

"What?"

You lowered your eyelids, the weight of old memories seeping into your voice, barely a whisper.

"You’ve said that this tech, this…unrealistic world leadered by heroes, is something that we hoped for… is not." 

You didn’t know whom you were talking to, to Four, to Steve, or to yourself.

“We were kids. Trapped in a cage. We never hoped for any of this.” You paused: “My brother and sisters died before I was even grown up. And they didn’t dream big. We didn't have the chance or dared to do so.”

Steve's heart clenched. He had sensed this, but hearing you say it still hit harder than expected.

"You knew?" Four's tone shifted, darker, more dangerous. His eyes gleamed like a predator closing in on its prey. "From the beginning?"

"Easy, Frazer." Maria warned, her aim steady. "You even blink, and I'll put a bullet in your pretty forehead."

"Of course I knew…" you said calmly. "And I know you're wearing a retinal lens—a live-streaming neural interface that captures everything you see, using nanotransceivers to broadcast it live via ultra-broadband frequencies to a secure hub."

Steve's mind clicked into place. You had the ability to see the composition of materials in everything around you. It was why Tony often had you blend in with the crowd, to detect anything out of place or hidden in plain sight.

"Then you know it's too late." Four's grin widened, a victorious glint in his eyes. "I've already got everything I need, little sister."

"Do you?" You smiled—a smile Steve knew all too well, the one that meant you were about to love what happened next. 

You snapped your fingers. 

"Revelio."

The world around you shimmered, peeling away like burning paper. The high-tech lab setup dissolved, revealing a The Crib instead, but it didn’t have all the advanced technology drafts as it was shown to Four. It was a clean, organized, fancy lab, not revealing anything confidential, it looked brand new..

"Binary Augmented Retro-Framing. Or BARF." you said, almost sighing. "It's on the market. The records are public. Tony loves to play with it."

"You think you're so smart." Frazer sneered, a cruel twist to his lips. "Or good. You think joining these superheroes will erase what you are? What you really are? You're nothing but a monstrous experiment."

"You're right." Your expression didn’t falter, not even a twitch. "My brothers and sisters were better." You continued watching him, calm as ever. "But you didn’t come all this way just for some tech demo, did you?"

"No." Frazer's smirk returned, sharper than before. "I came to confirm something, and I did. But there’s one last thing I wanted to check, just in case."

Steve's instincts kicked in, but he knew it was already too late. 

Frazer locked eyes with you, and his voice dropped, firm and deliberate:

"Мечта."

End

Continue to:

5: Awakening |

6: Dusk |

7: Hypnagogia |

8: Lull |

9: Vigil |

10: Eclipse |

Divider Credits: to the wonderful @cafekitsune

Woohooo...damn!! OMG thank you for reading thus far! Hope you really enjoyed it like I did writing it, it was a rollercoaster of emotions, tho.

Next chapter is finished already so I'll see you on next Friday! And I couldn't help myself on the "Revelio" part, I just had to give that dramatic line, if there were background music asin the movies, that's when it comes to play XD

Alright, let me know what do you think! (Also if you thought this was intense then next chapter is worse...xD)

Love.,

Moon.

Shoot, I completely forgot, but it was mentioned by the brilliant @steviebbboi & @jamneuromain that I should have a taglist? So mentioning here, will edit when I have it ready ❤️

[moe-broey]

Can never rb any post that goes "when I was a little girl" bc I was never a little "girl". Retroactively, I am, and always have been, Milo. But if you want to get pedantic, I was Some Fucking Thing, then I was a mannequin, then I beautifully blosomed into Just Some Guy. With problems

[dotster001]

Gold Digger End

Summary: another for tuna CC end

A/N: as usual, you can vote for the next ending here. I combined this person, with a scenario that was requested... So.... 😁

Part One Part Two Part Three Choose Another ending

"Grim! What the actual fuck?"

You had stumbled upon Grim's notebook, which was titled, "How to Marry Y/N off to Idia".

"Y/N! That's my super secret diary! Put it back!"

"Like hell it's your diary!" You snapped.

"Listen, Y/N," he climbed up your body, and cupped your cheeks with his paws, face stern, "it's time to face the facts. We are poor."

"I know that, but-"

You were cut off by a loud crash as the railing fell off the stairs, which was quickly followed by the collapse of the stairs themselves.

The two of you stared at the fallen stairway. Silent. Pondering. You shifted Grim to your hip, and picked up his fallen notebook.

"Are you sure Idia is our best option?"

"Technically, Leona has more money, but he's on an allowance. If he steps out of line, we're toast."

"But he's willing to work with us?"

"Are you asking if he wants you?" Grim laughed. "Yeah. You'd be hard pressed to find someone who doesn't want you in this school. It's a little concerning."

You flipped past Idia's pages, finding some final notes on Leona.

"Let me talk to him."

"Are you sure?" Grim couldn't help but be frightened by your change of heart.

"Grim, look at our stairway, and ask if I'm sure again."

You both looked back at the stairs.

"I'll call him and set up an appointment," Grim muttered, leaping out of your arms, and pulling Leona's file, which was hidden under the couch.

….

Leona was watching the both of you, smugly, from across his desk.

"I have to say, I'm a little surprised to see you here, herbivore. I thought you would still be living in denial."

You scowled over the rim of your glasses, that matched Grim's.

"Mr. Kingscholar-"

"Mr. kingscholar? What happened to kitty cat?"

You hid your flustered face by pushing your glasses back up your nose. But you didn't miss Grim's confused glance your way.

"Kitty cat?"

"Mr Kingscholar!" You cut him off. "We are willing to choose you as my lover and future husband, but we need to know that you will not blow it."

He leaned back in his chair, giving you a long, slow once over.

"Hmm."

He stood up, and walked to the window behind you, staring at the Savannaclaw courtyard.

"I can be a good little kitty cat. If it's for you."

You choked, and fiddled with your glasses again.

"How much do you need right now?"

He still wasn't looking at you, and it wasn't helping anything.

"Huh?"

"200,000 thaumarks to renovate the stairwell, and restabilize Ramshackle," Grim spoke up for you.

Leona pulled out his wallet, and filled out a check, handing it to Grim.

"Are there any contracts the two of us need to sign, little mouse? Maybe one that makes you promise not to fall in love with me?" Leona smirked, as he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze.

"I-" your tongue felt like lead, and you swallowed, before starting over, "I don't think that's a concern."

Your voice was completely cracked, but at least you got the statement out.

"Hmm," he said again, devilish smirk not leaving his face. "But you do plan to at least pretend to be my perfect little partner, yes?"

"That's the idea," you choked out.

"Hmm."

He had to stop saying hmm. You couldn't handle it.

"Well, in exchange for that 200 k, you'll join me at a charity ball tomorrow evening, and then let me hold you until we both fall asleep."

"Tomorrow?!? I don't have anything to-"

"I had a feeling Grim would have end up picking me, even if he didn't choose me first. I got you something to wear."

He walked over to his closet and pulled out a stunning outfit.

"Oh," you shifted in your seat. It would definitely look good on you. How long had he been planning this? And why were you getting so excited and flustered thinking about him, thinking about your future with him?

"Oh," he mocked, handing you the hanger. "Try that on so Ruggie can fit it if he has to. Bathroom is over there. Fuzzball, go get him." Leona pointed you towards the bathroom, and Grim towards the door.

Grim, needless to say, was very confused. But he fetched Ruggie anyway.

Just as they were about to reenter, Ruggie turned to Grim.

"Any chance you can get me a sugar mommy or daddy? I'm not picky, I'm into all of the above, you just have to find them for me."

Grim grinned, "Ten percent of your future allowance, and you got yourself a deal."

....

Tag list-@shytastemakerthing @stygianoir @leonia0 @lleoll @eccedentesiast-sapphic @supertmntgirl @cxsmicdustdreams @aethermostbeloved @krystalkiller25 @asmallbean3 @theneurodivergentdummy @candlewitch-cryptic @smilingfox22-blog @phantomgaming1920 @the-dumber-scaramouche @noidonothavetimeforthis @bontensbabygirl @xxoomiii @somany-fandoms-solittle-time @bre99 @stupidsimp @sus0daddy @a-small-tyrant @imlost-sendhelp @mizukiblogs @peskygirl13 @loser-jpg @magnayuki88 @dragontamer222 @nicholas-andrew99

[raineydays411]

My fathers daughter pt 12

It all comes out sometime

"Jay?" You ask.

"Yeah its me. How the fuck did you get access to the coms?" He asks amused at your actions.

"Trust me hacking this isn't any harder than hydra files" You say passively, " Anyways that's not important, I think I can help with this Joker thing."

"Wait? Really?" He ask seriously, "Y/n, listen carefully, I need you to go into Bruce's office and find the big ass clock --"

"Yeah I already found the secret hide out" You say annoyed, "Mommy dearest kicked me out before I could tell her how I could help."

Jason sighed, knowing that his mother probably tried to use her mom voice on you. " Yeah, she told us she didn't want you to be in the whole vigilante think."

The anger that was simmering under your skin came back, but before you let it get the best of you, you continued. Knowing that this information was more important than whatever mommy issues you had.

"Right, well that's not important." You say," Listen to me now."

"I'm listening." Jason grunted, sounding like was punching someone,

"Whatever chemical agent Jackass put in his venom is the exact same stuff that was used to brainwash the Winter Soldier" You say quickly.

"Kid, I wanna believe you but how do you know that? Tim was just able to get a sample and process it."

"Because, I was told that every antidote you use only makes the effects stronger right?"

"Right" He says strained

"In order to make sure that the Winter Soldier stayed the Winter Soldier and not Bucky, Hydra had to make sure his brain produced a certain amount of hormones. And that whatever anybody used, the effects couldn't reverse. Hence chemical X."

"Chemical X?"

"The name is to long for me to attempt to pronounce, anyways, lucky for us, my daddy just so happened to create a serum that undoes Chemical X. And if I check," You pause, taking over the computer downstairs, and checking the sample Tim had sent in, " The component is there."

"Well I'll be damned"

"Exactly. Now, I need you to find a lab or something. This serum was made with the intention of being made on the fly. So everything you need should be there." You say pulling up a map of Gotham general.

"Wait, I need to tell Bruce." Jason said, " Joker said he had the only antidote and he's fighting him right now"

"No thats not possible. The only ones who know about it is my father and I." You said worridly.

Meanwhile while you were upstair lending a helping hand, downstairs Christine and Alfred were panicking because they lost control of Jason's com and the main computer.

'Alfred I can't find him" Christinen cried, " How did he just disappear like that?

"I don't know miss, there's no possible way he could've."

"Wait." Christine says looking up to the screen, " Bruce and Tim are gone"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"How did you get con-"

"It's not important" You say cutting Batman off, " Listen to me, Joker doesn't have the cure."

"How do you know that?" The dark knight asks skeptically

"Because, until my dad figured it out, there was no cure." You say impatiently, " This chemical wasn't intended to have a cure."

"But you figured it out?"

"YES" You shout frustrated at the constant repetition, " DO you want the step by step or do you want to save lives?"

"hm" Bruce grunted, " And you know how to make it?"

"I do." You say earnestly

There was a pause, you heard grunting and what sounded like fighting in the background.

On Bruce's side, he managed to get the Joker disarmed and tied up.

He searched him for what he claimed was the vial containing the cure. But upon finding it, the Joker decided to throw his head back connecting with Batman's face. The sudden impact caused him to drop the vial, shattering it on the linoleum floor. The liquid oozing out and burning a hole into the floor.

"Ooops" the Joker cackled, " Aww poor Batsy, I guess I may have told a little white lie"

As Bruce rose from the floor, Robin ran in holding another vial

"Batman, the antidote." He says with a stern look on his face.

The smug smile fell from the Jokers face as he looked at the preteen.

"Thats...that's not possible!" Joker cried out, " There is no cure. There was never a cure."

Batman looked Joker straight in the eye, " No Joker, it looks like you miscalculated."

And with that, a swift punch to the face knocked the Joker out. A breath of relief flowed from the Batfamily. Now they can focus on what really mattered, helping the infected.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Back in your room you paced, after explaining how to make the cure, you hadn't hear back from the family. The anxiety you had building up in you made your heart feel as of it was going to explode.

"Y/n" Jasons voice came from your computer, " It worked."

You felt like crying, " Really? Are you for real?'

"No I'm lying and everyone died" Jason said sarcastically, " Yes I'm for real."

"Thank god" You said wetly

"Oh god are you crying?" Jason said uncomfortably

"No." and with that you disconnected, allowing access back to the main computer downstairs. After doing that you sat on your be, taking a couple deep breaths to calm yourself. But the tears kept flowing. You were so worried that you didn't get the information to Bruce on time. You were worried about the people that were exposed for too long. The ones that the antidote may not have worked on.

You may have been able to help a few but how many more could you have saved if you were listened to right away. The anger simmered back in your body.

You hated that Christine treated you as if you were a child. She completely disregarded what you had to say and took a shot at your father. At least he was smart enough to know that you were capable of more than just sitting and twiddle your thumbs.

You had half a mind to go down there and give her a piece of you mind. But before you could, a chime came from your phone

"Hey Starky! guess who's on the neighborhood <3"

Wade?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time the Batman co. finally made it back to the cave they all were exhausted. Every single one of them wanted to get home and take a shower. Dick and Jason would be staying at the manor simply because they couldn't muster up the energy to make their respective journeys back home. Damian and Cass were knocked out in the back of the batmobile and even Bruce was having a hard time staying awake while driving.

Honestly, ever since his family was created, Bruce/Batman became less about vengeance and more about protecting the city that he and his family live and care about. And maybe, if there was anyway that he can help mend the relationship between your family and his, perhaps you can be a part of his team as well, as sad at it was to say your hacking skills were way above his and Tims.

Lost in thought, Bruce didn't realized that when he pulled in Christine was in borderline hysterics and Alfred looked a little more frazzled than usual.

"Oh! Bruce!", Christine cried throwing herself into the confused bat, " What happened?! Is everyone one okay?"

"Christine, darling what are you-" Bruce was puzzled, Christine always had somewhat of a flair for the dramatics but there should be no reason for her to be this worried, especially because she's able to see everything .

"I thought we lost you! All of you!" Christine cried, eyes welling up with tears," The coms cut our for what felt like hours and then the main computer crashed! Me and Alfred both were barely able to get it rebooted before you got here!"

"Wait, if the main computer crashed then how was Y/n able to talk to us through the coms?" Tim asked tiredly, only jolting awake when Jason harshly elbowed him, signaling him to shut up about your participation.

"What do you mean? Y/n has been in her room this whole time." Christine says with a look of confusion on her face.

The batfamily all looked at each other, silently daring each other to step up and tell the truth, and face the wrath of their mother. Even Bruce didn't want to rat you out, knowing where Christine stood on her thoughts of you being involved.

Now don't get the wrong idea, Christine is by definition an overprotective mother. Theres no doubt about that. But there is a reason as to why she wants you out of the hero life and spot life in general.

Firstly, you are Tony Stark's daughter. There is no getting around that. And being Tony Stark's daughter also means you're Iron Mans daughter. And that is the whole reason you are there in Gotham in the first place. Amidst all the familial drama, everybody seemed to forget that you are still being hunted by an anonymous group. But Christine hasn't. Every night she lies awake worried to death that that was the night they found you. That they would come for you.

Secondly, the villians that her husband and family deal with are...for lack of words psychoic. If they figured out that you, Iron mans daughter, was helping their enemy Batman there would be more people after you. And from what Christine has witnessed these people do, the horrors and atrocities they casually commit. That frightens her even more.

So, with that being said, the look on her families face and the circumstances that had just occurred, it wasn't hard for her to figure out the cause of their technical malfunctions. And what a coincidence that these malfunctions only happened after you were sent to your room.

"Bruce.", Christine said in a clam even tone, " What are you not telling me." She didn't ask she demanded.

"Darling." Bruce said in a pleading tone, " It was a long night for everybody, why don't we just discuss it in the morning"

"Discuss it in the morning?" Christine asked incredulously, " Discuss it in the morning?! Do you know how worried I was? How worried WE were" She gestures to herself and Alfred who looked mildly uncomfortable to be put in the argument, " We thought you were injured or worse DEAD!"

The kids tried to slowly back out, inching towards the elevator that you totally didn't know was there.

"Don't even think about it" Christine said without looking at them, " How dare you all? How dare you? I asked ALL of you for one simple thing. Just one. To keep her OUT of it."

"Christine that's hardly fair-" Bruce started to say before getting cut off.

"No! It is totally fair! There are PEOPLE after her. People who are still out there by the way! Tony and his team haven't been able to find them! They keep slipping away whenever they get close! They are out there, trying to get MY daughter, for god knows what!"

Bruce glances towards the staircase entrance but before he can say anything Christine goes on, " DO you understand how hard it has been to keep anything from this world from her!"

"Ma she grew up in this world, it's not fair to just cut her out" Jason cuts in, " She feels left out because we're all pretending like we aren't who we are and pretending as of we don't have The Tony Starks daughter in our house. She's not a civilian, she's in it."

"She is not just Tonys daughter she's mine too!" Christine shouts before tears start to drop from her eyes, " Shes MINE, she can't be taken from me."

In the batmobile, Cass buries her face into a sleeping Damians chest.

"Mom, do you think any of us would let that happen?" Dick finally speaks up, " I mean, come on have a little faith"

" I just wanted her to stay out of it, to get out for good."

" Darling, that girl was not made to stay out of things, look at whp her parents are," Bruce chuckled, " Besides, she's never going to come around if we don't fully open ourselves up to her as well."

"You have to admit Ma, fighting is the only way any of us bonded" Jason says, " Except me, she likes me."

"I don't know why " Dick says with a frown, still bitter at the fact that you had bonded with Jason before him.

Christine sniffled before saying, " I still need to go talk to her, the way she cut us off was unacceptable."

"But-" Tim finally spoke out but it was too late, Christine was already marching to the elevator, mind made up about scolding you for what she thought was a practical joke.

The rest of the team was left in the Bat cave shaking their heads at their mothers stubbornness.

Bruce's sighed and started to put things away, " There's going to be fight and I don't want to be in the middle of that."

The three awake boys nodded.

" Someone wake up Damian and Cass, they need to go to bed."

Jason and Dick pushed Tim forward, if there was one other thing they didn't want to get in the middle of, was those two and their sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Back upstairs you were filled to the brim with anger. You had gone downstairs to greet the returning heroes and rub your success in Christines face, only to overhear what you had already confirmed.

Christine had been purposefully keeping things from you. Not only about Bruce being Batman ( Which you already knew), but about your situation.

See, when you had first moved to Gotham, you knew that there would be almost little to no contact with your family. The few times you were able to talk to someone from back home it wasn't even your parents. Something about phone lines being traceable and unreliable.

The only line of communication was given to you by Natasha before you left, a single flip burner phone that was only to be used for emergencies.

But Christine apparently was getting updates directly from your father. Updates you were sure were meant to be given to you. So not only had she had a hand in the intentional isolation of you from her family, she was trying to isolate you from yours as well.

It made you so angry! You already have sacrificed so much just to be here and you didn't even want to be there in the first place. You ripped open your laptop and went to do a little digging. Upon doing that, you found about a dozen of lengthy emails from your father describing in great lengths about your situation and details about life back home. These emails were obviously meant to be read by you and they all were marked as read and filed away. How they got to the Batcomputer was unknown to you but as you scanned each word tears welled up into your eyes, you father had not forgot about you.

You sat on the bed, taking deep breaths trying to calm down. You managed to restrain yourself and not blow up at that woman in front of her whole family and you really were trying to calm down so you can have a mature conversation about it.

You were trying.

but then, "Y/n Stark how dare you disobey your mother!"

What?

"What?" You say eyes ripping open and anger finally bubbling over

"How dare you! I asked you for one thing! All I wanted was to make sure my family would have been okay!"

"And are they dead?" You ask bluntly, " Is everyone who was infected dead?"

Christine turned red, " That is not the point young lady and I don't appreciate you talking about your family like that."

"They are NOT my family!" You shout, " You are not my family"

'Y/n" Christine start but now you were the one to cut her off

"NO, and since we are on the topic of not appreciating things lets talk about how I don't appreciate how you have been deliberately LYING to me."

"Excuse me?" Christine asks angrily, " I will have you know that I do not have to disclose every single piece of information I have to yo."

" Not even when it's about my own father." You said with an even tone, " Or do you not have to disclose that piece of information to me."

Christine lifts her chine, " Y/n I have no idea what you are talking about?"

"Oh you don't?" You ask," So you and your husband aren't hiding emails from my father to me in that big ass computer?"

Eyes widen, " How do you -"

"How do I know about that?" You mock, " So it's true?"

"Y/n that's not the point" Christine started, " Your practical joke could have seriously put the lives of your siblings in danger."

" My siblings?" You ask, " They are not my siblings! I don't even know those people!"

Christine stays quiet, then shakes her head, " If you would just come out of the room and get to know them other than Jason-"

"Why so they could tell me how great you are?' You say, " So they can tell me memories they have of you being a good mother to them?"

Christine's eyes well up with tears, " Y/n that's not fair"

"Oh that not fair to you, mom?" you shout, " And it was so fair to me when you left me to raise another kid?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the hallway Dick and Jason are paused half way up the staircase.

Dicks heart falls into his stomach at your comment, knowing that that kid you were talking about was him.

Jason on the other hand had a grim look on his face. He knew that this conversation needed to happen in order for anything to move on.He knew the years of resentment you were holding on to. It wasn't fair to you that everyone in this house had this subconscious expectation that you should just put those years behind you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"That is not what happened" Christine says wetly, " It was just hard, Y/n you don't understand."

"Hard?!" You shout angerliy, " It was hard? Hard for you to visit your daughter once every three fucking months? Was it hard for you to lead my dad on then crush his heart every time you left?"

"NO Y/N thats not true" Christine shouted but before she could continue you went on

"No???" you mocked, " Then what was it mom?"

" Everytime I went to see you, you had grown." Christine sniffs, " You had grown and had new adventures and stories and milestones that i was not a part of. I-"

"OH bullshit!" You shout

"Y/n." Christine says sadly

"NO, no you don't get to play that card! You left by choice!" You cry, " You left me by choice, you hid me away by choice! You chose this life for us."

" I loved you so much. I LOVE you so much Y/n!"

"You have a funny way of showing it." You say dryly, " You have this perfect life here. Perfect husband, a shit load of kids who adore you. I adored you. Why wasn't I enough?"

Christine's heartbroke and she couldn't answer you because truthfully, she didn't have an answer.

"And the one parent I was enough for I had to leave. I had to leave him and my mother behind for my other one who didn't want me. And I'm stuck in a house full of these kids who adore you and didn't know that I adored you well before them. And yet even though I'm here I'm alone. And that still isn't enough for you."

Christine wanted to say you weren't alone. You weren't because you have her. She's here for you, but that wasn't true. She hadn't been there. She wasn't there even when she was.

"You had to make me think my father forgot about me the way you did for what? So I can like you again? So I could forget all the times you promised you were going to come see me and you didn't? Why?"

"I..I just wanted to keep you safe.." Christine spouted pathetically.

"Safe?" You said, herding her towards your door, " No, everything you've done is because you want to look better. You're selfish. That's what you've always been"

And with that you slam the door in her face, startling the boys on the stairs and Christine as she didn't even realize that she was in the hallway.

Staring at your door she wept. For once, truly feeling the regret that she said she had been feeling. She did truly love you, she had not lied about that. To hear you finally say how you weren't enough for her broke her heart.

"Ma..are you okay?" Jason softly asked as Dick went to knock at your door, a bit angry at the way you spoke to his mother,

"Leave her be." A soft voice demanded from the hallway, " Dick, leave her be. Your mother was not the only one hurt in that conversation."

Bruce walked to Christine, and gently lead her to their room.

Upon the commotion outside, no one heard you open your window and slip out.

"It's about time, I almost died waiting for you."

"You can't die, that's your whole thing." You reply, wiping tears from your face.

"You're crying." Wade says in an unnaturally serious voice, " Do I have to kill your hot mom?"

You cringe, " No, just get me out of here."

"I could do that, actually I have a surprise for you~" He sings as he leads you to his taxi...

You heard what sounds like banging coming from the trunk and you're slightly scared to open it.

"Wade.."

"Oh don't be a pussy" He says opening the trunk.

Popping out with a gasp is

"Peter?" You say with a sigh, eyes welling up with tears again. You truly have missed your friends.

"That was not cool Wade!" He shouts, not grasping where he was, " The trunk smelled like nachos and vomit! I couldn't nngh-"

He grunts as you throw yourself into his arms, " Y/n.."

His arms wrap around you tightly, " Y/n what are you.. Where am I?"

"Gotham, now get me the hell out of here."

And with that, you're loaded into the car, taking the backseat with Peter and Wade in the front with an Indian man.

"Y/n this is Dopiender"

"Hello ms. Stark, I promise I will defend you with my life."

"Oh...well, thank you."

"This was surprisingly easy." Wade said as they pulled out of the long driveway, " Bruce Wayne should update his security."

What they didn't know, was that a pair of bright green eyes watched your reunion through the security camera in the Batcave. Squinting as they saw the tears flow freely through your face and noting the license plate and the men you were with.

[hawkinsbnbg]

Steve was a good friend, so he decided to show Eddie—a virgin—the rope.

nsfw, edging, masturbation, voyeurism (not sure about this one but rather be safe than sorry)

It started out like this:

They were both smoking in Eddie's bed and talking about everything and nothing at all. Just a picture of two friends chilling out together.

But maybe something had gone sidetracked, because Steve had turned to look at him and asked calmly.

"Are you a virgin?"

There was no warning, nothing for Eddie to brace himself for that kind of question. So with a loose tongue and heavy eyelids, Eddie had nodded.

"Yeah, sex is overrated anyway, man."

And that was it. They moved on to different topics after Steve just hummed noncommittally in response.

A few days later, they were back in Eddie's bed again but before he could light his joint, he was asked to show Steve his cock.

As confused as Eddie was, he didn't ask any questions but complied because he was weak to doe-eyes and a pretty face.

And unfortunately, Steve was the combination of both.

So, he just put his joint away for later use, unbuckled his pants, and pulled his cock out, already half-hard just by the idea of Steve watching him.

"Fuck," Steve breathed out softly, eyes tracing the girth and length of Eddie without shame.

Eddie squirmed slightly, not knowing why Steve reacted like that.

"Uhm, is there a problem?" Eddie asked uncertainly.

"No," Steve finally met his gaze, dilated pupils almost eating up the hazel. "Just... I know you’re big, but not this big."

Eddie blushed. "Well, is that a thing?"

"Is that a thing?" Steve mimicked his perplexed tone and snorted. "Jesus. Yeah, Munson. You're fucking hung and girls really dig it."

Eddie wanted to ask, "Does it also include you?"

But he bit his tongue before he could blurt it out. Instead, he said, "So, what are we gonna do now?"

Steve smiled at him, pretty and a little mean, "We're gonna teach you how to not come prematurely so you won't be laughed at for it."

Eddie was quite sure he only complained to Steve about that problem one time. Like months ago when he had been high off his ass and unable to see straight.

He had assumed that Steve must've forgotten all about it by now. But apparently, the younger boy had a better memory than he thought.

"How?" Eddie frowned in bafflement, half anticipating and half afraid of what was to come.

"You're gonna jack off," Steve answered casually, as if the sky was blue and Eddie wasn’t having his cock out in the air. "And when you're close, I'll tell you to stop. We'll keep going until your endurance improves."

"Wait, isn't that–" Eddie spluttered.

He wasn't an idiot. He had read too many skin mag to not know what it was.

"Yeah," Steve nodded calmly. "I know, but edging does help cases like this. I've done my research, Munson."

There were too many things to unpack from that one sentence and Eddie certainly was too sober for it.

So he filed it away to the back of his mind to visit it later when he wasn't both turned on and embarrassed by Steve's insane proposal.

"Do you want me to help you or not?" Steve cocked his eyebrow when he remained silent too long.

And wasn't that a million-dollar question?

Because Steve was sitting on his bed, asking to watch him jerk off, and expecting his brain to not fucking combust.

"Okay," Eddie exhaled shakily and looked up to meet Steve's waiting gaze. "When do you want to do it?"

"Whenever convenient for you," Steve shrugged like he hadn't been eyeing Eddie's half-boner until it filled out and started leaking steadily between them.

Before Eddie could second guess himself, he shimmied out of his pants and boxers. Then, under Steve’s watchful gaze, he wrapped his hand around his cock and started pumping.

He closed his eyes, head knocking back and mouth dropping open in silent moans.

It didn't take long, much to his humiliation, when Eddie felt the telltale tingles prance down on his spine. He was gonna–

"Stop."

Eddie's hand fucking stopped and he had to yank it away from his cock or he was gonna spill just from a small contact.

He shook his head at Steve. "I can't–"

"It's alright," Steve grabbed his hand and guided it back to his throbbing cock. "I know you can do it, Eddie."

Jesus Fucking H. Christ.

The look Steve gave him was so different from before, so soft and so tender.

At that moment, Eddie knew he'd do anything Steve asked him to.

And he was also pushed closer to the edge because of it.

"I'm sorry–"

Steve acted too quickly. One second he was holding Eddie's wrist, one second later he was grabbing Eddie's balls.

"Wha–" Eddie groaned out loud when Steve squeezed them, causing his cock to wilt immediately.

"The fuck are you doing, Harrington?!" Eddie moaned and glared at Steve.

"I'm helping you," Steve answered matter-of-factly, but his eyes gleamed with mischief. "In case you forgot, Munson, we're training you to hold out longer than one minute. It'd be for naught if you come right now."

"You're evil," Eddie mumbled, but secretly hoped that Steve wouldn't stop holding his balls. He could already see himself jerking off to this very moment later.

"I'm just being a good friend," Steve snorted and retreated his hand. "Go on. Pick up from where you left off."

And Eddie obeyed.

He stroked his cock slower this time, hand moving with more purpose, teasing the sensitive slit, squeezing the flushed tip, spreading the slick along the rigid shaft.

He grunted, sighed, and moaned, letting out small noises that were just a bit more breathy.

He bucked his hips and started thrusting, wanting to show Steve that he had the potential, that he could fuck Steve the same way he was pistoning into the loose hole formed by his hand.

His performance was cut short, however, when he was close again, too keyed up to last more than a minute.

It was hard to ignore those hooded eyes when they felt like a physical touch on him.

As predicted, Eddie wasn't allowed to come.

Every time, Steve would tell him to stop again and again and again until he was desperate for relief. Every time Eddie failed to halt his movements in time, the younger boy would aid him by gripping his balls painfully.

It was a bittersweet torture.

Eventually, Eddie couldn't hold back anymore and shot despite Steve's order.

"Fuck, shit, m'sorry, m'sorry," Eddie babbled as he experienced the most intense orgasm in his life.

He convulsed and fisted his cock, seeing stars beneath his eyelids as he tried to drive out the high.

The overwhelming pleasure rendered him speechless, making his head spin and his body tremble. He felt like his brain had liquified and streamed out from his ears.

By the time Eddie regained his senses, he was handed tissues and a water bottle.

Once done with wiping himself down, he took a long gulp from his bottle before grinning at Steve, "That was really something, man."

"You tell me," Steve huffed out a laugh that echoed by Eddie.

They sat in companionable silence until Eddie cleared his throat slightly.

"So I finally lasted longer than one minute."

"Yeah," Steve patted his arm lightly. "Good job for that."

"Thanks," Eddie ducked his head to hide the blush on his cheeks.

"It's nothing," Steve smiled at him kindly. "You really outdid yourself, Eds."

Eddie's stomach felt warm and fuzzy at that. "So what's next now I passed your test?"

Moving closer, Steve hooked a finger under his chin to make him look into those hazel eyes.

"Next time, we're gonna do it with my hand."

Eddie took in a sharp inhale. "You're not joking, right?"

"No, not with you," Steve chuckled lowly.

The sound rattled Eddie down to his bones.

"And what's about next next time?" Eddie couldn't help himself. God dammit.

If all of this was just a dream, he was gonna rip God a new one. Because fucking Jesus.

"Eager, aren't we?" Steve arched his brow. "But I think you already figured it out by yourself."

Eddie groaned and reached down to squeeze the base of his cock. It seemed to be quite eager with what Steve suggested.

"Can we just do the second test right now?" Eddie licked his lips, knowing full well that he wouldn't last long, but he’d be damned if he didn't give it a shot.

Steve just laughed and patted his cheek lightly. "Nah, today's enough. We'll continue tomorrow."

"Promise?" Eddie asked hopefully.

"Yeah," Steve pecked the corner of his lips. "Promise."

And Eddie knew he was gonna set up a one-hundred-step plan to woo Steve Harrington however impossible it was.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 85 (Searching for Rafa Bonilla)

cw: mentions underage trafficking, drug smuggling

Conrad looked for Rafa Bonilla between his regular cases at the precinct, following clues and booking suspects to keep his captain satisfied. A few months into his search he finally located one of Rafa's known associates, according to police reports.

He called Heather, tapping his fingers against the desk. "Hey, you've reached Heather's phone. It's either the middle of the night or I'm with a patient, so leave a message and I'll call you back."

"Hey, it's me. I was hoping to talk to you, but I've got to work a little late tonight. I'll make it up to you. I'm sorry. I love you."

He drove outside Brindleton Bay to greet the man who thought he had everyone fooled with his chess mentorship program. It would be less than thirty minutes before his students - mostly children - started showing up for their scheduled lesson in the park, so Conrad knew he had to work fast. He shuddered as he got closer to him, and not just because it was freezing outside.

"Jimmy Stefano," he said, dropping his voice an octave to sound serious.

"Not lately," mused the man with a laugh. "Who's asking?" He turned to face the voice who knew his old identity. "You? They said you were a cop now. No surprise they never let you work our cases."

Conrad knew they had no time for small talk and he whipped out his cuffs. "You're under arrest for aiding and abetting a known fugitive."

"You can't be serious! Who?"

"Rafael Bonilla."

Jimmy's face went white, but he stopped resisting. As Conrad cuffed him, he asked, "Are you taking me in to help San Myshuno PD, or did she call you?"

Conrad scoffed. "She who?"

Jimmy laughed. "She told both of us sweet nothings, old friend. You were just dumb enough to believe them."

"Shut up and get in the cruiser."

Back at the station, Jimmy looked around the interrogation room in his orange jumpsuit once Conrad booked him. "Aren't you going to need the cameras on to record your attempt at my confession?"

"I want you to speak freely, Stefano. Tell me everything you know."

Jimmy eyed him suspiciously. "You're not working with San Myshuno PD at all, are you."

"I didn't stage an elaborate arrest just to scare you. I still plan to file a report after you and I catch up. Just talk."

"She really did get to you. Are you trying to let her ruin your life again?"

"Where the hell is Rafa?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen him in two years, when the last job we did together went bad. I assumed his sister told him to run since the charges he's facing are so serious."

"She doesn't know where he is."

"I'm sure she told you that. Did she tell you she was done with Los Tigres, too?"

Conrad flinched, and Jimmy raised an eyebrow.

"I'm happy with my chess students, but I can't get out now. When you walked, I should've joined you, but I didn't have your father's connections at the police station to keep me out of jail."

"I wasn't even there that night, but you gave them my name."

"Yeah, I did, because you walked before you even got started. Los Tigres only let you live because you became a cop and they didn't need the heat. I don't know what she told you, but if you think Ximena's turned over a new leaf and is done smuggling for the cartel, you're an idiot. She just uses new aliases these days."

Conrad breathed in through his nose. "If I turn the cameras on, will you avoid mentioning our history while you tell me what Ximena's still doing with the cartel?"

"What's in it for me, Sargent?"

"If it comes to it and you're telling the truth, I only want Ximena. As long as Los Tigres doesn't get caught up in anything at the Brindleton docks, I've got no reason to open up a window to the past. You should think about moving on, too. Turn that chess mentorship program into more than just a front."

Jimmy rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Some of us are lifers, you know."

Conrad hit record while Jimmy told him everything he knew about Ximena's past - how she escaped being trafficked in her teens by offering to run drugs for Los Tigres de Selva, working her way up to running an entire operation moving drugs from Selvadorada to San Myshuno, through Britechester, and back again. Her associates called her The Chameleon because of how often she changed her hair.

She'd been arrested but never did hard time, with those who worked under her often taking the fall, instead - like Jimmy Stefano. Twice. Ximena kept herself just clean enough to avoid prison, and dragged her brother into the same life. "Rafa and I used to pose as Simlandian military to run product for his sister, but he never got caught for that," Jimmy said.

"When was the last time you worked for her?"

"Four months ago."

Conrad led him through several questions, showing copies of Ximena's old police reports. When they'd finished, he released Jimmy Stefano. It didn't satisfy him to send a known smuggler back to the streets, but he'd gained some incriminating evidence against Ximena, at the very least. He was beginning to think he might need it, eventually.

He headed home in darkness, and his mind raced with possibilities. Could Ximena's activities have led directly to her brother's disappearance? Who were her enemies these days?

He tried to call her, against his better judgment, but she didn't pick up her phone. He hung up before the voicemail kicked in.

When he walked in the door, he found six-year-old Ash on the floor, working on a castle diorama for extra credit at school. He knelt down to help him without even changing out of his work clothes. "Can you help me with the small pieces? Mommy won't let me use better scissors, but my kid scissors barely cut anything!"

He grinned. Grateful for the distraction, Conrad pulled out an instruction booklet tucked under the edge of the box. "Of course. What did you need me to cut?"

"Just these windows," he said. "They're too small. And can you measure to make sure my towers are big enough? I want the biggest towers of the whole class! Like the Spire Tower!"

"Tallest towers, can do. Hey, did you want to use this lump of clay for anything?" (Finally, the clay comes out at a sensible moment!!)

"Yeah! Moat mud! And we could use real water!"

"Your mom won't be very happy if we make real mud in the house, buddy."

Heather walked into the room then, kneeling down next to them to play with Gord. "Please don't make real mud. Why don't you use the clay to mould a base for the castle?"

"Good idea, Mommy! Can we have pancakes for dinner tomorrow night? I've been thinking about pancakes all day!"

"I can make you pancakes for dinner, but your mom and I won't be here to eat them with you," said Conrad. "Tomorrow night, I'm taking your mom on a date."

"What's a date?"

"It's when people who like each other hang out," Heather said.

Ash's eyes grew wide. "Is there kissing?"

Conrad grinned. "There might be. What do you know about kissing?"

He paused. "Nothing, I guess. Scotti Holiday says it's like eating faces, but why would people who like each other eat their faces?"

Heather laughed. "Don't worry, Conrad's not going to eat my face. Are you almost finished with your diorama for the night? It's getting late and you should get to bed soon."

"Just a little while longer, Mommy. Please! I'm not tired and I'm almost done!"

When he and Conrad had finished, they displayed the excellent diorama on a kitchen countertop until Ash could take it to school in the morning. Before he went to bed, Conrad went upstairs to check on his sleeping baby girl.

Intuitive to his human's growing stress level, no matter how well he hid it from everyone else, Gord followed him. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

[jjongslutz]

박제이 JAY 💋 TAKE FIVE! [ MDNI. ]

IN WHICH you've always trusted jay. he's a good director. but you've gotta admit, this gig is... weird

WARNINGS ⨯ fem!reader, pw(out)p, soft dom!jay x sub!reader, director!jay x voice actor!reader, use of pet names (baby, good girl, darling) guided masturbation (f. receiving), recording (audio), fingering (f. receiving), finger sucking, p in v sex, cumming in mouth

WORD COUNT ⨯ 2.4k

AUTHOR’S NOTE . . . i don't even know what prompted this so…. enjoy!

You moan into the mic, marking what feels like the fiftieth time of the day.

This is it, this is the one.

"Hm," you hear the disapproving hum from your headphones, instantly dropping your head in frustration. "I'm sorry Y/N, but I need more emotion."

"Can I have some water?" You ask, instead of returning to the task you just can't quite get.

As long as you've been a voice actor, a good three years, you've never played such a challenging role, which is surprising, considering you once voiced seven different characters in the same show.

Jay, the director, nods at you from behind the glass.

You make your way to his side of the studio in a rush. You truly can't stand another second in that recording booth making such embarrassing sounds into the microphone for a whole group of people to watch and listen.

"What's gotten into you, Y/N?"

This isn't the first time you're working with Jay. He's young, but a very well-known director in the voice acting community under the name Park Jongseong. Though, you know him best as just Jay, one of your old friends from college. Is it nepotism if it's your friend getting you these gigs? But, then again, you're also pretty popular in the community, so... tomato tomato.

You shrug at him, taking a sip out of your water bottle. "I don't know, I guess, it's just—" You raise your shoulders again and take an awkward look around the room. Gesturing with your eyes, you tell him, "There's a lot of people here, it's kinda weird."

The gig in itself is weird, you know this, and you knew this ever since Jay presented it to you.

"You want me to what?"

"It's really simple," he had said. So casually, as if he didn't just drop the bomb that you'll basically be voicing straight up porn. "You make a few... exaggerated sounds, and the jobs done. It pays really well, trust me."

And, since you did need the money, you accepted, expecting it to be the shortest recording session you've ever had.

You were proven wrong already.

Jay lets his forehead fall into his hand, rubbing at his temples as if trying to heal a headache, which he probably actually is. He sighs before letting his arm drop. "Guys, you can go home. I'll take it from here."

They do not have to be told twice because as soon as the words come out of their boss's mouth, they're packing up their bags, putting on their coats and saying their goodbyes. You watch them all file behind each other to exit the studio, and then it's just you and Jay.

"So..." he says, filling the silence. "You ready for another try?"

You're glad he's taken off his director persona. Using it as a pass to strip off some of your own professionalism, you heave a long sigh. "Yeah, sure."

And, so you do.

You moan into the mic, this time making your own face in disgust because even you can hear that it sounded off. But when you turn to Jay, you don't see him mirroring your expression.

Instead, he's watching you intently. His fingers rest on his bottom lip, which is tutting underneath them. He's thinking, thinking, thinking, and you know he's come up with a new idea by the way his lips curl up slowly.

You hear the click of his microphone, and soon his voice fills your headphones. "I have a suggestion." His voice is low, but not hesitant. Jay is anything but hesitant.

"I'll take anything at this point."

"I want you to touch yourself."

His eyes never leave yours despite the window barrier between the two of you. Had you not been wearing your headphones, you would've missed the suggestion entirely, but you cock your head to the side slowly and decide you're fine that you didn't.

He takes your silence as approval. "Pull out the chair and take off your shorts for me," he says quickly. And you do as you're told.

You slowly slide the shorts down your legs, turning your gaze away for a second to recollect yourself.

When you sit down, your eyes meet again. You're sure you've grown a red flush, but he doesn't seem to mind. “Bring the mic down closer to you.” He pulls his bottom lip through his teeth before giving you the next instruction. "Start rubbing your pussy over your panties. Slowly."

Your hand traces its way up your leg, to your thigh, and cunt, both staling and putting on a show. What the fuck am I doing? Using two fingers, you being to draw little circles, then big circles over your clit, starting up a nice rhythm. You hum, pushing your head back against the chair and closing your eyes.

"Good girl," he breathes, and you don't think he even notices he said it.

But you certainly did. It pulls a moan out of you.

Jay hums approvingly from his side. “Slide your fingers underneath your waistband. Touch around your clit, but don't touch it just yet. Can you do that for me?”

You give him a broken hum instead of words, listening to his directions and obeying them simply. Your pussy pulses beneath your touch, begging for your fingers to reach where you want it most. But you listen to Jay obediently, letting your hands draw circles around your cunt, eliciting whimpers from your core.

“You’re doing so good for me,” Jay whispers into your ears. You wish he was in the room with you. You’re not sure what you want him to do, but you want more than just his entrancing voice in the headphones. “Keep reading the script,” he adds.

Right. You almost forgot about it.

Your character is meant to be reading while getting fucked from behind, their words slurred together and interrupted by moans. It’s hot, but the text is less than turning you on.

Starting from the top, you read it out loud, your fingers collecting the juices spilling out from your pleasure.

Without permission, you stick one finger inside of you. You push it in, and out, before retracting it completely and bringing it up to your mouth to suck on it. Once your finger is coated in your saliva, it goes back into your cunt, forgetting all about Jay’s piercing gaze from the other side of the glass.

His voice rings in your ears. “What are you doing, baby? That’s not part of the script,” he teases.

Your finger still in your sopping cunt, you lean forward to start back with the script. At about halfway, Jay’s voice sounds again.

“Play with your clit.” His voice drips with a sense of hunger that turns you on.

Your thumb rolls over your clit, finally, a broken moan escaping your lips. You curl your other fingers inside of you, searching for your G-spot which you just can't quite reach. A whine drawls out of you.

When he’s satisfied with your noises, you hear the click of his mic turning on. “Pinch your nipple.”

Bringing your other arm up, you notice your hardened nipples aching to be played with. You twist and pinch and tug to Jay’s pleasure.

“Good girl,” he groans again. His hand drifts further down his body to where you can't see from where you're sitting, but you watch his arm jerk and match his pace with the fingers in your pussy. “Fuck,” he mutters, taking off his headphones and slamming them on the table before moving for the door into the recording booth.

The sudden slam of the door startles you, making you jump in your seat. You close your legs quickly with your hands still embarrassingly stuck down your panties.

Jay fakes concern. “Aw baby, are you shy?” He kneels down in front of you, holding teasingly sweet eye contact as he gets down. His hands come up to your hips and dig into the waistband. You twitch as he snaps the band against your skin. “How about we take these off so I can see how wet you are?”

They come off within seconds. You’re scrambling to get back into your seat as Jay keeps watching you patiently.

“Perfect.” He runs his thumb against your dripping core, sending shivers down your spine. Your pre-cum leaves his finger shining. He raises his hand up to your mouth and swipes his thumb against your lips. You open them to welcome the taste of your wetness. “Good girl.”

As your tongue laps his thumb, you squeal when you feel an invasion in your cunt. Jay’s stuck two fingers into you, and thrusts them rhythmically to your tongue on his other hand.

You moan at the arousing sensations. Your eyes flutter shut naturally, but they catch on the flickering red light from atop the booth’s door.

It’s still recording. Fuck, you think, unable to form coherent words, bucking your hips as you feel your high coming closer. Your breaths are short and your cries are higher pitched, completely letting yourself get lost in the feeling.

And then it all slips away.

“Why,” you whine, prolonging the syllable in distress.

Jay wears a teasing smile, but his eyes show gentle affection. His hands go down to his waistband, but he interrupts himself in his movement. “Oh, baby, were you gonna cum? I’m sorry, I thought you’d want to do it on my cock instead, but I can finger you some more—”

“No!” You sit up hurriedly, grabbing his waistband weakly to take it off for him.

“Such a good girl,” he says proudly, watching you scramble to take his pants off.

You bite your lip at the wet patch on his boxers, but more at the outline of his hardened arousal underneath them. Jay looks at you intensely, his eyes telling you, “Go on.”

His erection slaps against his clothed torso. His tip shines of precum and it takes everything in you not to lap it all in your tongue.

Jay’s hand harshly grabs your hair, pulling your head to make eye contact with him towering above you. “Darling, don’t forget what we’re here for.”

You’re reminded of the recording mic and the script, crumpled paper, now, sitting on the script-stand. Pathetically, you get up from your knees, placing your hands on the stand and arching your back, giving him clear access to your entrance, which glistens in invitation.

Looking at the microphone sitting atop its stand, bent to where it sits right under your lips, your mind wanders at the thought of the shape and how much you wish it was Jay’s cock. You imagine putting him in your mouth and taking him all the way down your throat, letting him thrust upward, causing you to choke on him and clenching your throat tighter to make sure he spills his seed deep inside you.

The intrusion of him aligning himself to your hole shuts your thoughts up. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he groans as he slides in slowly.

His first thrust pulls out a pornagraphic moan from you. The way he hits right where you need him, balls-deep into your cunt. Your hand drags down to your stomach where you feel the tip of his dick pushing forward with each thrust.

You clench around him, trying to focus on the script through blurry vision. Taking breaks between every few words to moan or suck in a deep breath—more often, both—you manage measly to get through your lines.

“Good girl,” Jay calls you again. His hand reaches down to stroke your hair gently, before he harshly grips the base of it, bundling it in his hands and using it as leverage to slam his hips against yours. “Such a good fucking girl.”

Combining his fast thrusts and his hypnotizing words, you know you’re not going to last long. You feel his cock hit your g-spot and it’s all over. You’re clenching and whining into the microphone, letting out the most pleasurable angelic noises you’ve ever made. Your legs tremble underneath his unstilling movements.

When you’re done shaking in pleasure beneath him, your hips buck forward to avoid overstimulation, his cock slipping out. Jay doesn’t mind, his hand going directly to his aching groin, moving at a fast pace.

“Fuck, I’m close.”

You love the sounds he makes. His low hums, the way he speaks quickly to not interrupt himself by a loud moan.

Steadying yourself on the chair, you kneel in front of him, his cock jerking against your mouth. He groans above you, thrusting his hips into it as he gets close. You open your mouth and welcome his spilling white ropes as he closes his eyes tightly and lets out the most brain-fuzzing sound of the day.

Jay takes his hand and cups your jaw. His thumb swipes over the leftover cum leaking over your lips, pushing it through as to not waste any bit of it. “Perfect,” he whispers at the beautiful sight in front of him.

He pulls out a handkerchief from his pocket, dampens it with water from your bottle and cleans you, then the microphone and script stands.

You thank him as he helps you pull your clothes on over your body, muscles still shaking.

When you’re both on the outside of the booth, nothing is different in the air from when you were out here with him before. You’re not sure if you wish it had changed or if you’re thankful there’s nothing weird that came from what you just did.

“How was that,” you ask, sipping on your bottle. You’re not really serious, you know it was good, but you need the confirmation.

A light dust of pink shades his cheeks as he names the audio file “Y/N as Mina, Ep. 4.” “Yes, you did, uh, very good. Really good.”

A smile creeps upon your lips, but you suppress it by biting your lip. “Thank you.”

With your words, his blush deepens.

But despite his bashful expression, your eyes train on the movement of his mouse on the screen, noting how he duplicates the file and saves it into another folder, labeled: X.

“I’d be happy to work with you again, Jay.”

 JJONGSLUTZ 2023

[glearyyyne]

a true story

Synopsis: Working at the bar as a waitress took a toll on you as soon as a white-haired man started to appear in the bar just to watch you. It was fine at first but he started to cause chaos in the bar which made you want to resign when he offered a deal with you and you accepted it, you didn't know it would lead to you questioning your feelings toward him.

Word Count: 4,959 words

Warning: 18+(because of kissing), angst, cursing, misunderstanding, mention of gun, fight.

Note: Another eternal sunshine song-based! Took me a lot of time to finish this 'cause I've been wanting to drop this fic but my friend encouraged me to continue and post it. To my friend, I love you very much for encouraging me to continue this!!

_____________________________________________________________

"Hey [Reader's name]!"

You spun around while adjusting your apron right after punching in for your shift.

"What's up, Fumiko?" you asked, quickly tying your apron into a neat bow.

"Table 7 needs you," she informed you, prompting a frustrated sigh from you. "Can't they wait a minute? I just clocked in!"

"Well, you wouldn't want to upset the boss again by ignoring his favorite customer," Fumiko gently reminded you.

You let out a sigh, muttering under your breath in frustration. 

Taking a deep breath, you composed yourself before stepping out of the locker room to begin your shift, knowing that serving Table 7 was your first task as always.

Table 7 was just a short distance from the bar, but what made it hard to miss was the white-haired man seated there, his striking appearance standing out among the other customers. 

Pausing once more, you took another deep breath, gathering your composure before making your way over to the table.

As Satoru sensed footsteps approaching from behind, he turned with a broad smile upon seeing you. 

"Ah, [Reader's nickname]! Wonderful to see you!" he greeted enthusiastically as you reached his table. 

You couldn't resist remarking, "My parents gave me a name for a reason," your grip on the notepad tightened as you struggled to contain your frustration.

Satoru's eyes sparkled behind his trademark sunglasses. 

"Okay, chill kitten," he teased once more. You internally groaned at the pet name. 

"Call me another pet name, and I'll make sure to file a restraining order against you," you threatened, although you knew you couldn't file a restraining order because...

"Oh yeah? I think you're forgetting something, princess," Satoru retorted, pulling out a pocket gun.

He’s one of the most dangerous men in Japan.

"You can't file a restraining order against me when they know how dangerous I am to society," he whispered with such intimidation that it sent a shiver down your spine.

You glanced at him, trying to gauge if he was serious, but the smile on his face hinted at a hint of psychopathy. 

With a sigh, you said, "What do you want to order?" eager to move past the uncomfortable exchange.

"Mhmm, if you were on the menu, I would have ordered you," Satoru shamelessly remarked as he perused the menu. 

His words made you want to whack him on the spot.

"If you're looking for entertainment, I suggest booking a private room with one of our exotic dancers," you suggested, hoping to redirect his attention away from you. 

But luck wasn't on your side.

"They've already been touched by those dirty drunk businessmen, and besides, nobody will focus on some waitress like you when you're so pretty and perfect for me," Satoru explained, his words dripping with arrogance.

You scoffed at his statement. "Well, if you're into looks, I'm sorry, but I don't date guys like you who are too arrogant and full of ego," you told him angrily.

Satoru chuckled in response. "Well, I can change your mind about me if you'll let me," he said, his tone suggesting he wasn't about to give up. 

It seemed he wasn't going to let this go easily.

You stared at him blankly. "Can't you just tell me what your order is?" you asked, not wanting to waste any more time on him.

"Why? So you can go back and ignore me as usual?" Satoru asked with a pout.

"Good thing you know," you retorted.

"Of course I know," Satoru replied, seemingly about to continue, but he was interrupted by another customer.

"Hey miss, can I get another bottle of beer?" the customer interjected.

Turning to the customer, you nodded, "Sure, after I take his order," you said, pointing your pen towards Satoru, who wore an unpleasant expression on his face.

"Get another waiter to get you some beer," Satoru told the customer, his tone dismissive. 

You tried to intervene, "Hey!" but Satoru continued.

"Sorry, he's just, you know," you attempted to explain to the customer, but Satoru cut in.

"I'll get the usual meal," he said with a smile.

"You got it then," you replied, jotting down the order that you already knew, before walking away. 

Satoru eyed the guy who interrupted your conversation, making a mental note to deal with him later.

You continued your work, feeling the weight of his eyes following you around whenever you served someone. 

Those annoyingly pretty blue eyes seemed to track your every move. 

You did your best to ignore him, but you couldn't help but return his stare whenever you unconsciously scanned the bar. 

Despite finishing his meal, he remained, still watching you. When he noticed your gaze, he smiled and waved at you. 

Rolling your eyes, you returned to your tasks, determined not to let him distract you any further.

"So cute," Satoru said with a giggle as you looked away, obviously amused by how hard you were trying to resist his charms.

He enjoyed the challenge, especially when it came to you.

After hours of serving food and drinks to patrons, you glanced at the clock and realized you were close to the end of your shift. 

Surprisingly, Satoru was still seated at Table 7. 

It seemed like he was waiting for something, but you figured it was none of your business anyway.

"Bring this to table 6," the bartender instructed, handing you five drinks that needed to be served. 

This was your last task of the night, and it had to be five drinks. 

Carefully balancing them on a tray, you set off to deliver them to table 6. As you walked, you suddenly realized that Table 6 was dangerously close to Satoru's.

"Here's your drinks, sir," you spoke after arriving at their table, gently placing down the drinks. 

The men at the table suddenly went quiet as you approached. 

One of them, who was uncomfortably close, whistled and eyed your body, but you ignored him and continued placing the drinks.

"I didn't think the drinks would come with such a beautiful lady," he said, earning laughter from his companions. 

You knew Satoru was watching, so you felt somewhat safer in case the man tried anything.

"Why are you ignoring me, baby?" the guy said drunkenly. 

Ignoring him, you were about to place the last drink when you felt a hand grope your ass, causing you to spill the drink.

"Fuck!" the guy shouted, drawing attention from other customers. "You bitch!" he exclaimed, seemingly about to attack you.

Bracing yourself, you covered your face with the tray, ready to defend against the assault.

But the attack never came.

You uncovered your face from the tray as soon as you heard water splashing. 

To your surprise, you saw the guy who groped you was covered in water, with Satoru holding an empty glass raised to the guy's head. 

You were speechless at what he had done.

"What's your problem, man?!" the guy shouted at Satoru, his voice filled with anger. Everyone in the vicinity seemed to be holding their phones, ready to record the impending fight between the two.

Satoru scoffed, chuckling."You. You're my problem," he said angrily, pulling out the pocket gun he had and pointing it at the man, who suddenly looked scared. 

"You're touching what's mine," Satoru's voice was laced with possessiveness.

Your eyes widened as you rushed to Satoru, attempting to stop him from shooting the guy. 

"Satoru, stop it!" you pleaded, reaching for his wrist to prevent him from pulling the trigger.

"Just a second, princess, we need more time," Satoru said, his gaze still fixed on the man as he continued to point the gun.

"What time?!" you exclaimed, panic rising within you as the situation escalated.

"Now," Satoru calmly replied, finally lowering the gun. 

Before you could ask him anything else, security guards arrived on the scene, intervening in the fight.

You were speechless, still processing everything that had just unfolded, as Satoru took the opportunity to wrap his arm around your waist and kiss your head. 

"Your shift ends now, right? Can you go to the locker room? I'll take you home," he whispered softly.

Still surprised by the turn of events, you didn't have time to get annoyed at his actions. 

Instead, you nodded silently before heading to the locker room, leaving Satoru behind to deal with the aftermath of what had happened.

You made your way to the locker room, trying to calm your racing heart. Fumiko entered soon after, concern evident on her face. 

"Hey, I saw what happened. Are you okay?" she asked, gently rubbing your shoulder.

"I didn't think your boyfriend was capable of doing that," she added, causing you to look at her in surprise. "Boyfriend?" you let out incredulously.

"Is he not your boyfriend?" Fumiko asked carefully.

"Never in my life would he be my boyfriend," you vehemently denied, heading to your locker to grab your things. 

All you wanted was to retreat to your bed for the rest of the night.

"I think the boss wants to talk about what happened," Fumiko informed you, leaving you sighing heavily. 

This might be it; he might fire you.

"Okay, I'll head there," you said, grabbing your bag and preparing to leave. However, Fumiko stopped you before you could go any further.

"Get some rest, will ya?" she said with a reassuring smile. 

Her words resonated with you, and you returned her smile, nodding in agreement before finally leaving the locker room.

**

The conversation with your boss wasn't too lengthy, though he scolded you for spilling the drink that had caused the fight. 

However, to your relief, he didn't fire you. It felt as though Satoru might have intervened somehow to prevent your immediate termination. 

The bad news was that you were suspended for a day, meaning you couldn't work tomorrow. 

While it was disappointing, you understood the decision. It might be for the best to keep the club safe, especially if it meant Satoru would stay away while you were suspended.

As you exited through the door, you saw Satoru smoking nearby. As soon as he noticed you, he threw away the cigarette and began to approach you, but you stopped him in his tracks.

"Go home, I'll take the bus," you told him firmly, walking in the opposite direction. However, Satoru was about to let you go slowly.

"Wait, I just told you I'll take you home," he insisted.

"But I can't face you right now, Satoru. I almost lost my job there!" you snapped at him, frustration evident in your voice. 

You expected him to argue back, but instead, he surprised you by taking off his blazer and wrapping it around you, leaving you speechless.

"It's cold outside. Please, let me take you home," he said softly, his demeanor unusually gentle. It was the first time you had seen him act like this.

"Will you leave me alone if you take me home?" you asked, hoping for him to accept it.

However, his smile dropped at your question.

"I don't think I can leave you alone, not when I like you too much," Satoru confessed, but you didn't take his confession lightly.

"Oh, stop this crap. You can go and find someone else to date then," you retorted, refusing to let his words sway you.

"If you agree to be my fake girlfriend for a day, I'll leave you alone," Satoru suggested, his proposal tempting despite your reservations.

"Why do you even need a fake girlfriend to begin with?" you asked, curious about his motives.

"To impress my grandfather. That geezer wants me to bring someone to a ball party that's held tomorrow," Satoru replied, providing an explanation that made sense.

The timing coincidentally aligned with the day you were suspended from work, and you didn't have any other plans. 

"Fine, you better keep your end of the deal," you told him, reluctantly agreeing to his proposal.

Satoru smiled softly at you after you accepted his offer. That left you feeling something that you couldn't explain.

What the hell was that?

**

As you were about to head inside your house, Satoru stopped you. "Hey, I'll pick you up tomorrow by 7 am," he said, causing you to stop in your tracks.

"7? That's too early! Can't you see it's 1 am?" you protested.

"I know, but it'll be fun. You'll get to be treated like a princess," Satoru smirked at you before turning and walking back to his car, leaving you standing there feeling confused.

You were about to ask him for clarification, but he had already left. 

Shaking your head in bewilderment, you headed inside the house and got ready for bed, still wondering what Satoru had planned for tomorrow morning.

**

"I didn't think you'd bring me to the mall," you remarked to Satoru, who was busy looking at clothes for you.

"Does it really have to be here at Louis Vuitton?" you added, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the luxurious surroundings.

"I can't let you go into the ball wearing cheap clothes, and besides, that geezer is allergic to anything less than top-tier fashion. So, if we want to impress him, then..." Satoru paused, pulling out a dress. 

"You need to wear this," he said, showing you the dress.

"I would have to work ten jobs just to be able to purchase that," you told him, feeling a mixture of disbelief and gratitude.

Satoru chuckled at your remark. 

"But you don't need to work ten jobs to buy this when you have me," he said, his ego shining through. You rolled your eyes at his typical arrogance.

"We're only going to buy one, right?" you asked, trying to reel him in, but Satoru didn't respond. 

Instead, he is immediately swarmed by sales ladies to assist him in finding you the perfect clothes.

The original plan was just to buy clothes for the ball, but it ended up with tons of outfits for various occasions – working, hanging out, lounging at home, and even for work.

"You didn't stick to your plan, did you?" you asked him as you both left the shop, him carrying tons of bags while you only had a few.

"So what? At least you have more clothes to wear," Satoru remarked as you both walked towards the parking area on the ground floor of the mall. 

Just as Satoru was about to open the door to his car, your eyes widened as you saw someone unexpected, causing you to instinctively pull Satoru close to you. 

His hands unconsciously went to the wall, as if pinning you against it.

"Woah, I didn't expect this," Satoru let out with a smirk, clearly enjoying the unexpected turn of events.

"Shut up, there's someone I didn't want to see, and I need you to cover for me," you told him urgently, but Satoru was stubborn. 

"Where?" he said, looking around, making you panic. You grabbed both of his cheeks and made him face you. 

"Just look at me! Don't turn around!" you whispered angrily.

"Well, I can't deny you're giving me the chance to look at your pretty face," Satoru teased, but you rolled your eyes in exasperation. 

As you saw a shadow approaching, panic surged through you again. Without thinking, you pressed your lips against Satoru's. 

His eyes widened in surprise, but he didn't resist. He kissed you back, his hand instinctively moving to your waist while the other remained pressed against the wall.

You could feel Satoru's smirk against your lips as he began to dominate the kiss between the two of you. 

Lost in the moment, neither of you noticed when someone approached.

"Uh, excuse me?" the guy's voice interrupted, causing Satoru to pull away from the kiss and bite his lip in frustration. 

"Yes?" Satoru replied, trying to maintain his composure as you ducked your face, hiding onto his chest in embarrassment.

"I think you shouldn't be doing that here," the guy said, and you stayed quiet as you recognized his voice. Out of all the places, he had to be here?

"You're ruining a good time for me, dude," Satoru told the guy without even looking at him. 

"If you interfere again, you'll never see the light of day," Satoru threatened, his hand moving to his gun just to scare the guy off. 

The guy backed away and left, leaving you two alone at last. You finally breathed a sigh of relief.

"Was it him, wasn't it?" Satoru spoke, his voice deep and serious.

"Huh?" you asked, finally looking up to see him staring at you with an unreadable expression.

"The reason why you're in this position?" Satoru asked, his hand gently holding your chin. Your heart raced as you met his gaze, unsure of what to say. 

"But then again, I can finally taste your lips," Satoru whispered, his words causing you to blush furiously.

You thought he was about to lean in for another kiss, but to your surprise, he pulled away and picked up the bags from the ground before heading back to the car to open it.

You stood there, speechless, trying to process what had just happened and the whirlwind of emotions it stirred within you.

"You're not going inside?" Satoru asked, a smirk evident in his tone, and you felt the urge to wipe it off his face. 

Ignoring his smugness, you walked up to the car and opened the passenger door, getting inside and taking a seat. Satoru didn't say much as he started the engine. 

You waited, expecting him to speak, but when he finally did as he began driving, you weren't prepared for his choice of topic.

"I think it would be best if you wore the midnight blue dress so it would match my eyes," Satoru suddenly spoke, catching you off guard.

"You just had to choose that as the icebreaker for our conversation?" you asked, staring at him incredulously.

"What? You wanted me to talk about how sweet those lips of yours are? Because I can tell you straight if you want," Satoru replied casually, his words annoying you.

"Whatever, it's not like you'll be getting more than that," you muttered, but you heard him chuckle.

"I assure you, princess, that you'll give me more," Satoru said confidently.

"Why do you think so?" you asked, genuinely curious.

"I just feel it," he replied cryptically, leaving you puzzled by his enigmatic response.

***

You admired yourself in the mirror after putting on the fitted midnight dress. 

Lost in thought, you didn't notice Satoru approaching until he appeared behind you, his hand resting on your waist as he looked at you with a grin on his face.

"So gorgeous," he whispered directly into your ear, sending shivers down your spine. 

Your breath hitched as his words stirred something within you, and it felt strange to have Satoru eyeing you as if you were his.

Sensing your reaction, Satoru leaned down and kissed your neck, leaving you shocked by his sudden boldness. 

The sensation of his lips against your skin sent a jolt through you, and you struggled to compose yourself during his unexpected actions.

"Can't help myself," Satoru murmured against your skin, his voice low and seductive. "You look so irresistible in that dress, like a vision from a dream."

His lips trailed along your neck, sending tingles down your spine. 

"I knew it would fit you the moment I saw that dress in the store," he confessed, his breath warm against your skin.

"Satoru—" you began to protest, but he hushed you as if he already knew what you were going to say. 

"Shh, remember you're my fake girlfriend now," Satoru reminded you, his words a gentle reminder of the charade you both agreed to.

As you slowly processed how the fake girlfriend charade had begun, you felt a cold band being placed on your finger. 

Quickly, you stared at your hand, surprised to see a beautiful ring adorning your ring finger. 

While you were still absorbed in examining the ring, Satoru took the opportunity to whisper to you. 

"I need to let them see that you're taken," he said with a smile, "for now," he added cryptically.

Confused by his words, you couldn't shake the feeling that all of this would lead to consequences in the end. 

**

Both you and Satoru entered the luxurious mansion, with Satoru guiding you inside with his hand on your waist. 

You tried your best not to appear too stiff, knowing that any sign of discomfort would be noticed by everyone around you. 

Eventually, you both stopped at the entrance of the ballroom. 

"Make sure to act cool," Satoru whispered to you, and you nodded, taking a deep breath before the two of you entered the room.

The ballroom was as extravagant as expected, filled with large paintings, a lavish chandelier, and a polished floor where guests danced to the slow jazz music playing in the background. 

The room buzzed with the sound of people conversing and laughing, adding to the lively atmosphere. 

You observed your surroundings while Satoru guided you to where his grandfather was, trying to maintain your composure amid the greatness and finesse of the event.

As you stopped observing the room, you finally spotted Satoru's grandfather, who was conversing with other guests, holding a glass of wine in his right hand. 

"Hey, old man," Satoru greeted his grandfather casually as if he were addressing a stranger. 

His grandfather turned to look at Satoru with a blank expression, but as soon as he noticed you, his face lit up with a warm smile.

"Oh! She must be your date for this event?" his grandfather asked, his attention fully on you and Satoru as he excused himself from the other guests he had been speaking with. 

He extended his hand toward you as if expecting a handshake. 

You looked at Satoru for encouragement, and he smiled reassuringly before you accepted his grandfather's handshake.

"It's so nice to meet you, Ayaka-san," his grandfather greeted you, but you were utterly confused. 

"Ayaka? I'm [reader's name]," you told him, which caused the old man's smile to falter as he stared at you and Satoru back and forth.

"You're not Kobayashi's daughter?" he asked, further adding to your confusion. 

"Kobayashi—what?" you turned to Satoru, seeking an explanation for this unexpected turn of events. 

Satoru simply laughed, placing his hand on your shoulder and pulling you in close so you could hear him.

"Go and take some food from the buffet while I discuss some things with my old man," he instructed you. 

You were about to protest, but you felt Satoru's grip tighten. He placed a soft kiss on your forehead. 

"Now go, but don't stray too far from my sight," he added as he walked towards his grandfather, engaging in a discussion that felt off-limits to you.

Feeling a bit left out, you made your way to the buffet, grabbing a lavish plate as you pondered your choices. 

Lost in thought, you were surprised when someone placed a cupcake on your plate, prompting you to look up at them.

"It seems you're lost in thought, madam," a boy who seemed younger than you spoke.

"Oh, sorry. It's just... I'm not used to these kinds of events," you explained.

"I could tell," he said with a smile. "I'm Isamu, Gojo-san's cousin," he introduced himself.

"Oh, I'm [reader's name], his girlfriend," you introduced yourself, but you noticed how his face became confused.

"Really? But everyone here was told that Ayaka-san is his girlfriend," he said, adding to your confusion. 

Who is this Ayaka-san? If he already has a girlfriend, why would he bring you here?

"Is she that popular?" you asked him, feeling increasingly perplexed.

"Wait, you don't know her? I thought Gojo-san at least told you about her," he replied.

"If you wouldn't mind, would you like to dance with me? I can fill you in on the background of the two," he suggested, extending his hand. 

You glanced at Satoru, who was still busy greeting guests, and figured it wouldn't hurt, so you accepted his hand and allowed him to lead you to the dance floor.

As you began dancing, he finally spoke. "They were playmates in their childhood. Gojo-san would throw a tantrum if Ayaka-san wasn't his playmate," he explained. 

You listened attentively, but you couldn't shake the strange feeling bubbling up inside you, as if your blood was boiling.

"Everyone adores them, and it's already been agreed that they'll get married when they're older," he continued, leaving you even more puzzled and uncertain about your role in this situation.

Feeling numb from the revelation and betrayed by Satoru's omission, you couldn't help but feel like you were being cast as the villain in this family's storybook. 

"But I don't know, everything changed when Gojo-san was appointed to take over his father's business, and it was mentioned that the business was dangerous," Isamu explained, adding to your confusion.

"So where is this Ayaka-san?" you asked, trying to make sense of the situation.

"I don't know. I thought she would come today as Gojo-san's date, but I didn't expect it to be you," Isamu replied, his tone sounding mocking to your ears.

“But I should give you a warning, Don't believe or fall for his concerned face; you'll get yourself in trouble,” Isamu told you which made you even more confused.

Before you could respond, you felt a hand on your waist and turned to see Satoru. 

"Excuse me, but you're dancing with my girlfriend," he said, his tone polite but laced with tension.

"Oh, sorry," Isamu apologized, releasing your hand and wiping it, which triggered you. 

"I'll leave you two alone for some time," he said with a smile before walking away, leaving you feeling even more conflicted.

Satoru cupped your cheek, his concern was evident in his eyes. 

"Hey, are you alright? Did he do something wrong?" he asked, but you couldn't shake off the feeling of being scrutinized by everyone around you. 

Pushing away his hand, you looked at the ground and whispered, "I... I want to go home.”

Satoru didn't respond immediately, but you could sense his frustration as he glanced around the room. 

"I shouldn't have left you alone," he muttered, his words filled with regret. Grabbing your wrist, he pulled you close, and together you walked out of the ballroom.

Satoru quickly led you to one of the bathrooms, entering before you and locking the door behind him. 

He turned to you, finding you still avoiding his gaze, unsure of what to do next.

Taking charge, he placed his hands on your waist and lifted you, seating you on the sink. 

Once you were settled, he leaned in, resting both hands on the sink as he studied your expression.

"What did you two talk about?" Satoru asked, his tone gentle but insistent. 

You bit your lip, hesitant to discuss it. His hand moved to your chin, his touch soft as he advised, "Don't bite them too hard."

Your mind was swirling with conflicting emotions. 

Just yesterday, you were angry with him and vowed to keep your distance, but now... the mere mention of Ayaka next to Satoru stirred a fierce jealousy within you. 

Were you really starting to fall for him?

You gazed into Satoru's eyes, he looked at you with a genuine look. But then, a warning from Isamu echoed in your mind

"Don't believe or fall for his concerned face; you'll get yourself in trouble."

Conflicted and unsure of whom to trust, you couldn't bear the thought of Satoru displaying this same affection to Ayaka, his supposed childhood sweetheart.

In a split-second decision, you seized Satoru by the collar and pulled him into a kiss, letting your emotions take over.

Satoru responded swiftly, his hands finding their place on your waist as he reciprocated the kiss with equal intensity. 

You felt a surge of desperation, a need for him to affirm that you were indeed his. Your hands moved to his collar, unbuttoning his clothes in a feverish haze. 

Satoru allowed you to take the lead, deepening the kiss as the passion between you intensified.

You pulled away from the kiss, gasping for breath, and rested your head on Satoru's shoulder. 

His hands found yours, guiding you as you helped him remove his clothes. 

His whispered encouragement urged you on, and at that moment, you surrendered yourself to the overwhelming desire, allowing yourself to lose control completely.

**

You woke up in Satoru's room, feeling a wave of confusion and regret wash over you as the events of the previous night flooded your mind. 

You remembered the passion and the intimacy, but also the emptiness that followed. 

“Don't think about anything, just think of me- God I love you too much, you're driving me crazy.” Satoru's whispered declarations of love echoed in your ears last night, but you knew deep down they held no true meaning.

As you sat up, the reality of the situation hit you hard. Satoru had left you alone in his bed, a painful reminder of his indifference. 

Anger and betrayal surged within you, mingling with the hurt and vulnerability.

"Fuck you, Satoru," you muttered under your breath as you clenched your fists, the sting of betrayal fueling your resolve. 

Despite the ache in your legs, you pushed yourself to get dressed, every movement a painful reminder of the night before.

Before leaving, you scribbled a short note, a final message to Satoru. 

"Don't come find me," you wrote hastily, the words carrying the weight of your shattered trust and wounded pride. 

With a heavy heart and a resolve to start anew, you left his house behind, planning to leave the city and leave him behind for good.