#default warehouse

[benbamboozled]

Guys, don’t worry, I know you were wondering and, yes, I can confidently say—

Deadman IS a hottie under his mask.

My work here is done.

Source is Blackest Night #8

[teaandinanity]

Currently contemplating how I'm going to plan out the house I intend to build for my mini-me in Project Zomboid.

I decided she's getting a lake cabin. As in literally built onto a lake, so I can have first floor windows for light without the constant worry that things will come in through them or (arguably more importantly) break the glass once I have them installed and then get blood all over the floor.

I THINK if I build airlock layers of wall outside it should be okay that I have one actual house entrance, since that will mean that if things have gotten in that far I will probably be Deeply Screwed anyway. I need curtain walls anyway for a loading bay/mechanical space where I won't be interrupted by things trying to eat me, and an animal space where potential migrating zombies will not distress my pets. And I wussed out of real horde sizes in settings so it's not like migration is likely to go 'SURPRISE! 50 zombies have come to throw you a housewarming party!'

The crops are probably going on the roof of the weird little cabin, because if I am forced to have a flat roof by the build system and I have to pick up dirt to make the road out to my chosen site not try to kill me by growing trees for me to run a car into, I really might as well use both said dirt and said flat roof. Rooftop garden and 'there will be a little porch for my generator that will hopefully be enough tiles away from shore that nothing will hear it ever' and 'this should ideally mostly be on the second story so I am not taking up potential fishing real estate' are most of the firm ideas I have at present.

[ktempestbradford]

I have been on a Willy Wonkified journey today and I need y'all to come with me

It started so innocently. Scrolling Google News I come across this article on Ars Technica:

At first glance I thought what happened was parents saw AI-generated images of an event their kids were at and became concerned, then realized it was fake. The reality? Oh so much better.

On Saturday, event organizers shut down a Glasgow-based "Willy's Chocolate Experience" after customers complained that the unofficial Wonka-inspired event, which took place in a sparsely decorated venue, did not match the lush AI-generated images listed on its official website.... According to Sky News, police were called to the event, and "advice was given."

Thing is, the people who paid to go were obviously not expecting exactly this:

But I can see how they'd be a bit pissed upon arriving to this:

It gets worse.

"Tempest, how could it possibly--"

source of this video that also includes this charming description:

Made up a villain called The Unknown — 'an evil chocolate maker who lives in the walls'

There is already a meme.

Oh yes, the Wish.com Oompa Loompa:

Who has already done an interview!

As bad (and hilarious) as this all is, I got curious about the company that put on this event. Did they somehow overreach? Did the actors they hired back out at the last minute? (Or after they saw the script...) Oddly enough, it doesn't seem so!

Given what I found when poking around I'm legit surprised there was an event at all. Cuz this outfit seems to be 100% a scam.

The website for this specific event is here and it has many AI generated images on it, as stated. I don't think anyone who bought tickets looked very closely at these images, otherwise they might have been concerned about how much Catgacating their children would be exposed to.

Yes, Catgacating. You know, CATgacating!

I personally don't think anyone should serve exarserdray flavored lollipops in public spaces given how many people are allergic to it. And the sweet teats might not have been age appropriate.

Though the Twilight Tunnel looks pretty cool:

I'm not sure that Dim Tight Twdrding is safe. I've also been warned that Vivue Sounds are in that weird frequency range that makes you poop your pants upon hearing them.

Yes, Virginia, these folks used an AI image generator for everything on the website and used Chat GPT for some of the text! From the FAQ:

Q: I cannot go on the available days. Will you have more dates in the future? A: Should there be capacity when you arrive, then you will be able to enter without any problems. In the event that this is not the case, we may ask you to wait a bit.

Fear not, for this question is asked again a few lines down and the answer makes more sense.

Curious about the events company behind this disaster, I took myself over to the homepage of House of Illuminati and I was not disappointed.

I would 100% trust these people to plan my wedding.

This abomination of a website is a badly edited WordPress blog filled with AI art and just enough blog posts to make the casual viewer think that it's a legit business for about 0.0004 seconds.

Their attention to detail is stunning, from how they left up the default first post every WP blog gets to how they didn't bother changing the name on several images, thus revealing where they came from. Like this one:

With the lovely and compact filename "DALL·E-2024-01-30-09.50.54-Imagine-a-scene-where-fantasy-and-reality-merge-seamlessly.-In-the-foreground-a-grand-interactive-gala-is-taking-place-filled-with-elegant-guests-i.png"

"Concept.png" came from the same AI generator that gets text almost, but not quiiiiiite right:

There are a suspicious number of .webp images in the uploads, which makes me think they either stole them from other sites where AI "art" was uploaded or they didn't want to pay for the hi-res versions of some and just grabbed the preview image.

The real fun came when I noticed this filename: Before-and-After-Eventologists-Transformation-Edgbaston-Cricket-Ground-1024x1024-1.jpg and decided to do a Google image search. Friends, you will be shocked to hear that the image in question, found on this post touting how they can transform a boring warehouse into a fun event space, was stolen from this actual event planner.

Even better, this weirdly grainy image?

From a post that claims to be about the preparations for a "Willy Wonka" experience (we'll get to this in a minute), is not only NOT an actual image of anyone preparing anything for Illuminati's event, it is stolen from a YouTube thumbnail that's been chopped to remove the name of the company that actually made this. Here's the video.

If you actually read the blog posts they're all copypasta or some AI generated crap. To the point where this seems like not a real business at all. There's very specific business information at the bottom, but nothing else seems real.

As I said, I'm kinda surprised they put on an event at all. This has, "And then they ran off with all our money!" written all over it. I'm perplexed.

And also wondering when the copyright lawyers are gonna start calling, because...

This post explicitly says they're putting together a "Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory Experience" complete with golden tickets.

Somewhere along the line someone must have wised up, because the actual event was called "Willys Chocolate Experience" (note the lack of apostrophe) and the script they handed to the actors about 10 minutes before they were supposed to "perform" was about a "Willy McDuff" and his chocolate factory.

As I was going through this madness with friends in a chat, one pointed out that it took very little prompting to get the free Chat GPT to spit out an event description and such very similar to all this while avoiding copyrighted phrases. But he couldn't figure out where the McDuff came from since it wasn't the type of thing GPT would usually spit out...

Until he altered the prompt to include it would be happening in Glasgow, Scotland.

You cannot make this stuff up.

But truly, honestly, I do not even understand why they didn't take the money and run. Clearly this was all set up to be a scam. A lazy, AI generated scam.

Everything from the website to the event images to the copy to the "script" to the names of things was either stolen or AI generated (aka stolen). Hell, I'd be looking for some poor Japanese visitor wandering the streets of Glasgow, confused, after being jacked for his mascot costume.

HE LIVES IN THE WALLS, Y'ALL.

[wandering-winchesters]

First Moments: I love you

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Summary: The first time I love you's are exchanged. Requested: @roseblue373 A/N: This was completely inspired by the above Gif.

--

The vampire nest was supposed to be easy—a clean job, quick and quiet. At least, that was the plan when you and Dean Winchester had rolled into town two days ago. The intel suggested maybe half a dozen vamps, tops. It was the kind of hunt that Dean had shrugged off with his usual cocky smirk and a “Piece of cake.” And you… well, you’d trusted him, because trusting Dean had become second nature, no matter how much it scared you sometimes.

Now, standing in the aftermath of a bloodbath, you weren’t sure whether you wanted to punch him or patch him up first.

Dean leaned heavily against the crumbling brick wall of the warehouse, his breathing ragged. Blood streaked his face and neck, some of it his and some of it… not. The torn collar of his jacket revealed a series of lipstick-shaped bruises on his skin, the telltale marks of a close call with a particularly persistent vamp. You could still feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins from when you’d staked her, barely in time to keep her fangs from sinking into Dean’s throat.

“You okay?” you asked, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice as you wiped your blade clean on your jeans.

Dean gave you that infuriating smirk, though it was weaker than usual. “Takes more than a love bite to take me down.” His voice was strained, but the humor was still there, always his default shield.

“This isn’t funny, Dean,” you snapped, your hands clenching into fists. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed. What the hell were you thinking?”

His smirk faltered, and for a moment, he looked away, his jaw tightening. “I was thinking I’d rather take the hits than let you get hurt,” he muttered, so quietly you almost didn’t catch it.

The words stopped you in your tracks. Anger and worry warred in your chest as you stared at him, your pulse thundering in your ears. “That’s not your call to make,” you said, stepping closer. “We’re supposed to be a team, Dean. You don’t get to play hero and leave me to pick up the pieces.”

He looked at you then, really looked at you, and the vulnerability in his green eyes made your breath hitch. “It’s just how I’m wired, alright?” he said, running a hand through his blood-matted hair. “I can’t… I can’t lose you.”

The raw honesty in his voice knocked the wind out of you. Dean Winchester didn’t talk about feelings, not unless he was three drinks deep and barely holding it together. But here he was, laying it bare in the middle of a vampire nest, his blood staining the ground beneath him.

“Dean,” you said softly, your anger ebbing away. “You’re not gonna lose me. But you’ve gotta stop trying to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. We do this together, or not at all.”

He nodded, the fight draining out of him. “Yeah, alright.” But the way he said it made you think he didn’t quite believe it.

The drive back to the motel was quiet, save for the low hum of the Impala’s engine and the occasional hiss of pain from Dean as he shifted in his seat. You kept your eyes on the road, gripping the steering wheel tighter than necessary to keep your hands from shaking. The image of Dean, bloodied and battered, kept replaying in your mind, and it took everything in you not to let the tears that threatened to fall win.

Back at the motel, you set Dean down at the edge of the bed and rummaged through the first aid kit. He watched you silently, his expression unreadable, as you pulled out gauze, antiseptic, and bandages. When you turned back to him, he was already shrugging off his jacket, wincing as the movement pulled at a gash on his arm.

“Let me,” you said, kneeling in front of him. He didn’t argue, for once, and the fact that he didn’t made your chest ache even more.

You worked in silence, cleaning and dressing his wounds with practiced efficiency. Dean flinched occasionally but didn’t complain, his eyes fixed on a spot over your shoulder. When you reached the bruises on his neck, your hand hesitated, the anger you’d been holding back bubbling to the surface again.

“You scared the hell out of me tonight,” you said quietly, your voice thick with emotion.

Dean’s gaze snapped to yours, his brows knitting together. “I’m sorry,” he said, and the sincerity in his voice nearly undid you. “I didn’t mean to…” He trailed off, looking down at his hands.

“You never do,” you said, finishing with the bandage and sitting back on your heels. “But you can’t keep doing this, Dean. You can’t keep throwing yourself into danger like your life doesn’t matter.”

He didn’t respond right away, his jaw working as he processed your words. Finally, he looked up, and the raw emotion in his eyes took your breath away. “It’s not that my life doesn’t matter,” he said. “It’s that yours matters more.”

The weight of his confession settled between you, heavy and unspoken. You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came. How could they, when everything you wanted to say felt too big, too messy for this moment?

Instead, you reached up, your hand brushing against his cheek. His eyes closed at the contact, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. When his gaze met yours again, something had shifted, something unspoken passing between you.

“Dean,” you began, your voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t have to do this alone. You don’t have to carry everything by yourself.”

He swallowed hard, his hand coming up to cover yours where it rested against his cheek. “I don’t know how to do it any other way,” he admitted, his voice breaking.

“Then let me help you,” you said, your heart pounding in your chest. “Let me be there for you, the way you’re always there for me.”

For a long moment, he just stared at you, his eyes searching yours. And then, finally, he nodded, his fingers tightening around yours. “Okay,” he said, his voice barely audible. “Okay.”

The rest of the night passed in a blur of exhaustion and quiet companionship. Dean eventually fell asleep, his head resting against your shoulder as you sat on the edge of the bed. You stayed awake, watching over him, your mind racing with everything that had been left unsaid.

It was a week later, on another hunt, when everything finally came to a head.

This time, it was a wendigo, and once again, the plan had gone sideways. Dean had pushed you out of the way of a swipe meant for you, taking the brunt of the attack himself. You’d managed to take the thing down, but not before Dean had been thrown into a tree, leaving him bruised and dazed.

Back at the motel, you’d had enough.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you demanded, pacing the room as Dean sat on the bed, holding an ice pack to his ribs. “Do you have some kind of death wish, or are you just that stupid?”

“I was trying to protect you,” he shot back, his voice rising to match yours. “What do you want me to do, just stand there and let you get hurt?”

“Yes!” you yelled, the word bursting out before you could stop it. “I’d rather get hurt than watch you kill yourself trying to save me, Dean. Don’t you get that?”

He froze, his eyes wide as he stared at you. The room went silent, the air heavy with tension.

“Why?” he asked finally, his voice low and rough. “Why does it matter so much to you?”

Your chest tightened, your heart pounding as you met his gaze. “Because I love you, you idiot,” you said, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “I love you, and I can’t keep watching you do this to yourself.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable. And then, to your surprise, he laughed—a soft, disbelieving sound that made your stomach twist.

“You’re serious,” he said, his voice tinged with awe. “You’re really serious.”

“Of course I’m serious,” you said, your voice trembling. “Why the hell would I say that if I wasn’t?”

He set the ice pack aside and stood, closing the distance between you in two steps. Before you could react, his hands were on your face, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that stole the breath from your lungs.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes were brighter than you’d ever seen them. “I love you too,” he said, his voice raw and full of emotion. “God, I love you too.”

@hobby27 @roseblue373 @jc-winchester @whump-loverz @pizzagirlxnsfwx @king-of-milf-lovers @jollyhunter

[fuck-customers]

Ma’am.

If you placed the online order last night, LITERALLY RIGHT AFTER WE CLOSED, and you have NOT gotten the email that your order is ready for pickup. WHY WOULD YOU THINK YOUR ORDER WAS READY TO PICK UP?

(I get that this is probably partly to do with the fact that our online ordering system will default to telling customers “you will receive an email in roughly 2-4 hours when your order is ready”, even if the order contains items we don’t currently have in stock and need to be shipped to us from the warehouse. But I swear on all that is good and just in the world, EVERY customer focuses on the “2-4 hours” part and not the “you will get another email when it’s ready” part.)

((I keep asking IT/coporate to fix it. They never do.))

Posted by admin Rodney

[4theluvofsapphos]

Butterfingers - ch.1

pairing: Melissa Schemmenti x Futch Mechanic!Reader

a/n: HI FIRST MEL FIC AHFUDJ the worms…the voices…. anyways i don’t usually describe reader since i know that can take away from the experience but a tall buff himbo futch reader x a petite angry italian is just too good 😭 enjoy! i plan for there for be some possible smutty smut in the FARRRR future but this is first and foremost melissa learning how to love again!!-

chapter 2 here

“I didn’t know we had a new vending machine guy! Gregory, we have a new vending machine guy!” Janine looked to Gregory, who in turn nodded and looked up from his laptop.

“I noticed…uh- hi, by the way. That’s Janine, I’m Gregory.”

You looked to the two from your kneeling position by the old vending machine, matching names to faces before clearing your throat to introduce yourself in turn.

“Hi Gregory, Janine…my name I-“

“Who the HELL took my mug?!” A loud voice bellowed from across the room, the doorway now occupied by a stout looking redhead, and an angry one at that.

“…Which mug? Oh..” Gregory immediately blurted out, looking from his to the sink’s counter. “I thought- I figured this was a communal mug, was this- not a communal mug? I’m sorry, I- I’ll just go get a new mug for you Melissa-“

The fiery features of the redhead son softened, her brow knitting together in confusion. “Did ya not read the front? It says ‘Schemmenti’s the best teacher ever’ on the front, see?” The woman marched over to where Gregory stood, spinning the mug around with her one hand and pointing with the other.

“Right, okay. To be fair, I am not enough of a cryptologist to decipher 2nd grader writing. But now that you said it- I…I definitely see it, yeah.”

—————————————————

You stayed kneeled on the floor, Janine blocking your view slightly, and Gregory standing in the way of the redhead’s sightline. She hadn’t yet seen you, and you didn’t know whether to feel grateful or petrified…A mixture of both swirled in the pit of your stomach, growing heavier with each passing moment. Janine then turned to look at you, smiling sheepishly and sidestepping to walk towards the pair.

“Hey so Melissa- Uhm…you left the mug here yesterday, so I cleaned it for you and put it on the rack to dry. I’m sorry if that was what caused all this.” The woman, who’s name you now knew was Melissa, seemed dissatisfied with this explanation.

“Look hon, next time you don’t know, just ask?”

“Sure, yes, of course! You’re right. Sorry Melissa.” The young teacher bowed her head, nodding in agreement and proceeding to stand awkwardly next to Melissa for the next minute or so in silence.

—————————————————

After Gregory had settled back into his seat, the previously controversial mug now emptied into a default ‘employee lounge’ mug. You had continued your work quietly, not looking at the room much to avoid the palpable tension. As a couple more teachers filed in, a young twinkish teacher, and a teacher that seemed around Melissa’s age. She gave you a small smile, introducing herself as Barbara. In return, you told her your name, shaking her hand gently, before asking if she had any requests for the machine.

“Me? Oh, no.” She waved the question off with a dismissive hand,”However, if you want to make some friends, I’d ask the others.” She then gestured to the few that sat a few feet away.

“Gushers. Please.” Janine blurted, grinning. “The other guy used to bring in Gushers, but since Meliss-“ Gregory held up his hand, cutting off his coworker.

”Nah ah ah- not important. You want Gushers- she wants Gushers, please.” Janine nodded excitedly, and you smiled back.

“Uhh, Gushers? Sure! I can probably find something at the warehouse.”

“I got a guy that works at a candy store.” A voice piped up from the table to your right. You looked to see it was Melissa, fork in hand, what looked to be some leftover ‘rigatoni Calabrese’ in her Tupperware.

“Oh! It’s no worries. I remember seeing a few packages on the east wing by the back. I can bring them tomorrow, if I have time.” You reply, standing up to talk properly with the others. Melissa watched you carefully, seeming to hold your gaze with a challenge behind her own. For what, you weren’t sure…But you were feeling the heat from her, and it was making your palms sweat. It wasn’t about the fact that she was glaring you down— it was the way she was doing it that made you nervous. You weren’t a small girl by any means. You were nearly 6’2”, with enough workouts in you to put a bouncer to sleep. The problem was that you knew she didn’t like you.

Melissa glared with contempt. Behind her eyes, the gears were churning up something ugly.

You weren’t the guy she knew, why should she trust you? The last one went horribly wrong, why wouldn’t this one?

Regardless of your social standing with her, you took a few steps towards her, offering your best smile. “Well, do you want anything for the vending machine? I have no problem stocking it.”

You had been working there for a few days at this point, but most of your job consisted of doing maintenance on the vending machines in the cafeteria and halls. But after your employer noted an extra vending machine in a non-documented area, you did some digging and found that the previous technician noted an extra vending machine in the employee lounge…thus— here you were.

Melissa replied by shooting you a pointed look. “No. I’m fine.” After a long pause, she tacked on a little ‘thanks, though’ at the end. You nodded, taking your queue to head back to the machine. As you finished loading the already available inventory, the teachers all began to head back to their classrooms.

—————————————————

When you got up, you expected to see the room empty. You were wrong— Melissa stood behind you, her controversial mug in hand, and an unreadable look on her face. You cracked a little smile, clearing the hair from your face and setting down the empty box you were about to leave with.

“You got Butterfingers?” She asked, raising a brow.

“Oh- I don’t- I’m sorry! Did I drop something?” You looked around the floor, trying to think if you recall dropping any inventory while you were stocking.

“No! I meant the candy, hon.” She sighed, pinching her brow and shaking her head slightly. You felt your face go red with embarrassment at the misunderstanding. She seemed to be amused, but you felt stupid.

“That- that makes a lot more sense. I have Butterfingers, yeah! Would you like me to stock some..?” She thought for a moment, and shook her head.

“It’s— kind of a guilty pleasure. You think ya got any more discreet ways to slip me one or two every now and then?”

You looked to the machine, then back to Melissa, before nodding. “I can do that…no problemo!” You gave her a little thumbs up, picking up your empty box, before heading for the door.

She followed after you, giving you a small smile and nodding. “Maybe you ain’t so bad. Thanks, hon…my name’s Melissa, by the way.” She held the door with her foot, looking up at you when she spoke.

You looked over to her, chuckling lightly. “Pleasure to meet you, Melissa. I’m y/n. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Before you headed down the hall, you looked to her coat. It was a nice leather jacket that you felt matched her tough exterior. “I like your jacket, by the way. It suits you.”

“Yeah? Thanks.” She offered, but the appreciation seemed rehearsed. Something in her eyes faltered, before she turned on her heel and quickly left in the direction of what you presumed to be her classroom.

Melissa Schemmenti was an enigma to you. But you would figure her out eventually. It couldn’t hurt…could it?

[judesmoonbeauty]

Fairytale Final Assessment 1st Anniversary SE: Jude Jazza's POV Premium End ཐིཋྀ

Fan translation only. Not 100% accurate. Please expect grammatical errors. Cybird owns everything. Feel free to re-blog, but please do NOT post my translations elsewhere. Translation notes are marked with *** Alternate translation is marked with/// Hour Glass Banners Credit: @/natimiles ཐིཋྀ

Running through the bay, I opened the doors of the warehouses with a fine-tooth comb.

(Where the hell is she…..?)

Then I heard a noise in one of the warehouses.

When I opened the door to the warehouse- I found Kate being held tight by the man in the bowler hat. 

Kate: Jude…..and Ellis.

Bowler Hat Man: Jude Jazza! Ahaha, I found you!

Bowler Hat Man: While I was looking for you, I found your lover. And you even jumped in yourself.

Bowler Hat Man: It's as if God is giving me a chance for revenge!

(Your eyes look crazy….)

Jude: You're doin' well for someone who's been the subject of so much dangerous research.

Bowler Hat Man: Thanks to you.

The man in front of me seemed to be moving solely on adrenaline. 

But, this kind of person is the most  troublesome.

Bowler Hat Man: First, I'm going to kill this woman in front of you.

Bowler Hat Man: Then I will kill you, too, as you despair while holding the corpse of your lover.

Bowler Hat Man: Damn, ha-ha-ha. Isn't this the best revenge play ever?

Kate: ……

The gun in the man's hand was pressed firmly against Kate’s temple.

Ellis: …….

I could sense Ellis about to make a move behind me.

Anticipating Ellis’ move, I put strength into my leg to kick the man. 

Kate muttered while being held by the man.

Kate: One. What Jude loves other than people's misfortune and money. 

Kate: It's to make fools like you, who play with other people's lives, to despair.

Kate: So, Jude won't despair if he sees me dead.

Bowler Hat Man: Huh?

Jude: ………

Kate: Two. Jude will never, ever forgive anyone who defaults on a contract.

Kate: And scoundrels who play people’s lives. So you'll never get away with it no matter how you try.

(Yeah, I knew I'd heard that line somewhere…..)

FLASHBACK 

Jude: One. I like other people's misfortune 'n money, that's true, but the thing I like most.……

Jude: Is to make rich people like ya who think they're safe 'n flaunt their power in the world to despair.

Jude: No matter what kinda weakness I may have in negotiations, I'll never forgive a defaulter.

FLASHBACK ENDS

Kate: Three.

(Oh, those eyes again)

While being held in a tight grip and being shown the overwhelming difference in strength, Kate’s eyes never give up.

She looks straight at me and smiles at me with a radiant glow in her eyes.

"Jude, you understand what I'm trying to do, right?"

It’s frustrating but clear what Kate is trying to do.

Kate: I'm not Jude’s  lover, I'm a fairy tale keeper...!

Jude: Haha….

Kate bends down and slips out of the man's arms.

Bowler Hat Man: Huh?

While the man's arms were bare, I kicked him in the jaw with the tip of my shoe.

Jude: Your mouths empty.

I heard the sound of a crushed jaw, but I didn't care, I kicked the man in the stomach several times.

Bowler Hat Man: ..…...Gah……If you're going to do it, do it to the end of ……….

Jude: Who's gonna listen to ya? I'm not gonna let ya die 'n get comfortable.

Jude: I'll politely send ya back to the lab. If ya want to escape again, be my guest.

Jude: I'll play with ya all the time. Only if ya could keep your human form.

Supervisor: Mr. Jude, everyone! Are you all right?

Jude: You'll know it when ya see it.

Bowler Hat Man: Damn…….

Jude: Oh, that face is intriguin'. Isn’t it a good way to kill time?***

Ellis: You're taking him in. I'll help you.

I watched the supervisor and Ellis take the man away with a glance, then turned my attention to Kate.

Jude: Injuries.

Kate: Not a scratch!

Jude: What are ya, a dog in waiting?

Kate: Oh, maybe you’ll look at me?

Jude: Idiot.

As we left the warehouse, Kate stared at the clock tower in the distance and exhaled in relief.

Kate: Oh, thank goodness. It's not after midnight yet.

Jude: What was so good ‘bout it? Ya lost the game. Well, goodbye.

Kate: Well, wait a minute!

Kate: Jude, this!

Kate held out a note. 

Kate: The plan to destroy your trading company is written there, Jude. 

Kate: When I was looking for the classified documents that I had promised, I found that man in the bowler hat.

Kate: I thought it was strange since you’d put him in your lab Jude, so I followed him…..

Jude: This was dropped. So, while pickin' it up he got caught.

Jude: Stupid.

(What, you're jumping into the danger yourself?)

Kate: Well, this is comparable to the "confidential document" that you  requested Jude, isn’t it?

Kate was right, this note that had fallen out had some troubling things in it, it was enough to deliver on the promise.

Kate: As for getting caught, it's my fault. I'm sorry.

Jude: Ya must be crazy because ya almost got killed because ya were scared.

Being a fairy tale keeper is a job title, and it's not something you should cling to.

Kate: Strangely, I wasn’t scared at all.

Jude: …..Yeah?

Kate: Jude, I knew that you’d be there for me.

Kate: I don't mean to protect me or anything, but you wouldn't make a wrong promise to win, would you?

Kate: If I died, the game’s up in the air.

(Ha. She's a real tough princess.)

Kate: Jude. This may be wishful thinking on my part, but…..

Kate: You tried to get rid of me so I wouldn't get further involved and die.

Kate: That's why you made up an enemy that wasn't there at the end.

(Where did she get that from?)

Kate: But it's too late, I'm sure.

Jude:……too late?

Kate: As I said before, I know the people around you, Jude.

Kate: So it's impossible for me to go back to my life.

Kate told me in one breath as she looked at me.

Kate: Well then, how about we just give up and stay together?

(…..give up, huh?)

If I had to turn back, where on earth would I have started from?

The woman in front of me was smiling like she had chosen the depths of hell herself.

Her face was the best I had ever seen.

(You look like you wouldn't die even if I killed you.......There's really nothing I can do.)

(You and me both.)

I gently wipe the mud from Kate’s cheek with my fingertips.

Kate’s cheeks were clean, and my fingers were dirty instead.

Kate: ….Jude?

Jude: ….hey, why are ya clingin’ onto me so tight?

Kate lowered her eyes for a moment, then smiled like a beauty blooming under the moon in the middle of the night.

Kate: I think there are many reasons. But if I had to sum it up in one word...

Kate: Because I want to. I just want to continue being a fairy tale keeper, and be with you Jude.

Kate: Really, just .... That's all.

Jude: How selfish 'n thick-skinned ya are.

Kate: Wait, so you're going to sign it?

Jude: Continue writin’ fairytales. Once again, your lifespan has been shortened, congrats. 

Kate: Oh, thank you very much….!

Kate: I did it. This time I won!

Jude: Why are ya so happy ‘bout shortenin’ your life? Throw away that masochistic perversion and go home. 

Kate: Wait a minute. Let's go home together.

Kate’s footsteps follow behind me.

It’s as if they’re making so much noise, that of if I went to the moon, they’d come after me. 

(A person's life is as fragile as a candle's flame.)

(Trust and a sense of justice are meaningless in the face of malice and murderous intent.)

(Sometimes, no matter how hard we try to protect them, we can't.)

(I understand that to a rotten degree. I know it so well.)

Even so, I wondered why I couldn't push her away when she asked for someone else and came after me directly.

(It's really disgusting.)

(I know.)

(The most disgusting person is the one who thinks it's okay to be with her.)

The bell that sounded at midnight echoed in the air.

Soaring as if it could reach the moon.

Fairytale Keeper Continuation Agreement

Kate hereby agrees to continue as a fairy tale keeper.

Suit yourself. I don’t care if ya accidentally die……

-Jude Jazza 

A few days after I decided to continue as a fairytale keeper.

Suddenly, I received a letter from Her Majesty the Queen.

Kate, your work has reached my ears. Thank you as always.

Therefore, I would like you to evaluate one thing.

I wonder if Jude, who is cursed, is worthy of the crown.

***This question - take it with a grain of salt. I have no clue other than he talks about killing time.

[Previous] [Epilogue] [Master List]

[one-beer-is-not-enough]

i'm SUPER curious how Marcel would interact with my OC Julia, what he'd think of her. I love Marcel btw and your art style is so comforting <3 great work!

That's so sweet, thank you :D I really like Julia’s look, she reminds me of that sly cat threatened with a knife meme lol. Immaculate memes btw

The vibes they bring to the function:

I drew Julia in the school uniform, since I wasn't sure what her full outfit in the character sheet looks like. And yes I gave Marcel a flip-phone. Please ignore that it looks nothing like an actual phone. And the dumbass butterflies

Now as to how I interpret their interactions:

First off, I’m not sure they could hang around each other for extended periods of time, because Marcel is kind of a dick by default, and Julia probably wouldn't like seeing him treating other people so rudely. But in small doses, they’d have a cool dynamic!

Nine times out of ten, Marcel makes an enemy rather than a friend when he meets someone new. But considering Julia is a very laid-back person, he’s not even sure how to react, since most people from Bullworth are quick-tempered and tend to hold grudges. I think a likely way they’d meet is through Pinky. She’s fascinated by both of them due to their poor status, so I could see her just introducing them to each other at some point

It's also possible that Julia swooped in to help Marcel during his first couple weeks at Bullworth when he’d just lie there and take the bullies’ beatings, paralyzed with fear due to the years of abuse. Seeing someone actually give a damn about him could be his wake-up call. These guys are not like his father, he's on equal grounds with them; he can stand up for himself at last

He'd be too prideful to admit it, but he'd always feel indebted to Julia for something this major, and offer to do her a favor/errand once in a while. Free of charge

Marcel is lowkey fascinated by the way Julia speaks, though it probably goes both ways since he slips in Italian words and cliché mafia slang he learned from movies. Their conversations must be unbearable to listen to lmao

If Julia ever wanted to, Marcel would be down to 'teach' Julia some boxing techniques (he wants to flex so bad) when none of the other preps are the at Glass Jaw. However, he's kind of apprehensive about fighting a girl (if his sister found out she'd kill him). Though once he sees that she's quite good, his competitive side wins over and they can have an actual match

His respect for her skyrockets when he finds out she has a little sibling too, especially since Julia strives to set a good example to her. He’s like: “They’re so innocent, y’know? Gotta be a good influence” and in the background his little brother Rafael is setting some kid’s hair on fire

Marcel occasionally gets up to mischief like Julia, though it’s mainly to get some extra cash. And since Julia is skilled at breaking into places, he might ask her to tag along with a bullshit excuse, but only when it’s low risk. He doesn’t want her getting arrested because of him.

Like, they'd break into an abandoned warehouse "because it'd be cool as fuck", but Marcel actually just wanted to loot the place and needed someone who knows how to pick locks💀

+ the meme I was referring to

[simaddix]

Market Day!

* Village Event Announcement *

Market Day at TS3 Medieval Market

This Saturday (February 22, --25), saddle your horses, load up your wagons, and head on down to the new Market to sell, buy, trade and barter your goods with other Villagers!

[This is a free event involving no real currency, just downloads]

The Tavern & Inn (Storytelling, Show & Tell, Discussions)

            The Tavern always has some sort of story to tell or news to share amongst the locals, but perhaps a new tale would be nice? Share your adventures with the Village as you have a meal, sit by the campfire, and people of all ages and walks of life listen to tales of woe and foreboding, folklore, songs and dancing. Of course, say hello to your friends and catch up on the local gossip before you leave!  

The Market (All the CC Categories)

            There’s so much to acquire in the market that it might take a while to see everything! Make sure to ask around, people are always happy to point you in the right direction.

Have you tired of looking at the same old items around your home? There’s a stall for default replacements to help give your belongings a fresh look!

Need to upgrade or improve something? Mods will have what you’re looking for.

This Village doesn’t suit you anymore? Ask about worlds-caw, and start planning your move.

Love the Village, hate the house? There might be rentals available at lots.

A busted fence, a broken window and a squeaky door… You need build, they’ll craft something custom for you!

New furniture and home décor will be over in the buy stall.

Oh, my dear… that hair… and the young Lady will be needing a new dress for the season… of to CAS with you both!

The Castle is looking for staff. Find work in Careers.

Need someone to help around the farm? Find a helping hand in SIMS.

This horse is lame, the stable will be able to help you buy a new horse, there might be pets for sale as well.  

Looking for textiles, lumber or stone? Oh yes, you’ll find those over in patterns.

What’s that lovely smell? That must be recipes-ingredients!

Our barn is cluttered with old holiday decorations… let’s free some space and dump it off at the holiday stall to resell!

Cargo (Requests, Conversions, Tutorials, Trades, and more!)

Have something you can’t find, but want? Are you willing to trade or barter? I’m sure someone will be willing to make a deal!

You could also ask in cc-requests, or the suggestion box. I’m sure there are people looking for ideas in collaborations as well.

Wanting to host an event in the Village? Put it up on the board at challenges-events.

Have too much to carry by wagon? Request a warehouse and you can store all of your stuff there! You can also explore other warehouses, just make sure not to leave your own cargo there!

Vendors

The Village Market thrives on sales and purchases alike! Be sure to come with something of value, or the merchandise may run out sooner than you’d like!

Remember, the Market accepts newly crafted items, sentimental favorites from the past, and everything in between! Just make sure not to sell granny’s quilt without permission, or we’ll all be in trouble!

See you there!

Note: There is a poll going in the "Market Day" forum over on TS3 Medieval Market!

Join us here before this weekend: https://discord.gg/e6skNu9t

______________________________________________________________

Things are moving much more quickly than I anticipated over on the Market - so if the "map" above doesn't look exactly like I posted - be kind. I'm only one person, lol. There's already a LOT to look at! Hooray!

[gophergal]

Behold, a flock of Medics

(Rambling under the cut)

Ok so y'all know about that semi-canon compliant AU I have that I've mentioned before in tags n shit? Fortress Rising? Well, Corey (my dear older sib, @cursed--alien ) and I talk about it like it's a real piece of media (or as though its something I actually make fanworks for ffs) rather than us mutually bullshitting cool ideas for our Blorbos. One such Idea we have bullshit about is that basically EVERY medic that meets becomes part of a group the Teams call the "Trauma Unit," they just get along so well lol

Here's some bulletpoints about the Medics

Ludwig Humboldt - RED Medic, hired 1964, born 1918. Introduced in Arc 1: Teambuilding. The most canon compliant of the four. Literally just my default take on Medic

Fredrich "Fritz" Humboldt - BLU Medic, clone of Ludwig, "Hired" 1964. Introduced in Arc 2: The Clone Saga. A more reserved man than his counterpart, he hides his madness behind a veneer of normalcy. Honestly Jealous of Ludwig for how freely he expresses himself. Suffers from anxiety, which he began treating himself. Has since spiraled into a dependency on diazepam that puts strain on his relationship with Dimitri, the BLU Heavy.

Sean Hickey - Former BLU Medic, served with the "Classic" team, born 1908. Introduced in Arc 3: Unfinished Business. A man who who has a genuine passion for healing and the youngest on his team. Unfortunately, his time with BLU has left him with deep emotional scars, most stemming from his abuse at the hands of Chevy, the team leader. His only solace was in his friendship with Fred Conagher, though they lost contact after his contract ended. For the past 30 years, he's lived peacefully, though meeting the Humboldts has left him feeling bitter about his past experiences.

Hertz - Prototype Medibot, serial no. 110623-DAR. Introduced in Arc 4: Test Your Metal. The final prototype created by Gray Mann's robotics division before his untimely death forced the labs to shut their doors. Adopted by the Teams after RED Team found him while clearing out a Gray Gravel Co. warehouse. As with all the Graybots, he was programmed based on a combination of compromised respawn data and intel uncovered by both teams' respective Spies. Unlike the others, however, his dataset is incomplete, which has left him with numerous bugs in his programming. His speech (modeled off Ludwig and Fritz's) often cuts out, becoming interspersed with a combination of default responses for older Graybot models and medical textbook jargon all modulated in emotionless text-to-speech

[theannoyingurge]

I find it hilarious that in a default Durge run, Astarion gets hungry and thinks "Yes, the psychotic murder machine covered head to toe in naturally armored scales. That's the safest bet."

Apparently, there can be no safer midnight snack than one who's morning breath might kill you.

Like, no sneaking into the Grove and preying on some unwanted tiefling orphan? Not the well hidden paraplegic refugee trapped in the dark warehouse? Nope. The homicidal dragonborn you once threatened at knife point, out in the open, by the campfire. They'll be easy and understanding. No one will be the wiser.

My boy's INT was supposed to be 13! That's above average! I'd love to hear his thoughts when he came to this brilliant conclusion. (I say, despite knowing it worked and will continue to work in every playthrough. God damn it.)

[papermonkeyism]

I think I'm finally starting to recover, after a few years of artistic dry season.

The plague was a big hit, then losing my job and finally my social life collapsing once my IRL DnD group basically disbanded pretty much destroyed what creative juiced I had always lived on up to that point, and it's been HARD to just not having any desire to be creative or do anything.

But now that I have a job again, and have had it for long enough my bank account is stable, and having been adopted into a new DnD group that's active both in-game (weekly game sessions!) and outside of it (we actually talk and communicate generally as well! It's mostly online, but it's still more than I've had in years), I have started to feel more like myself again. That, and the brain meds. I can't overstate how big it is that my default doesn't have to be brain fog anymore.

Like, I'm doing evening doodles again? I'm actually having fun thinking up creatures and characters and plots again? I stopped carrying my sketchbook and pencil case with me everywhere I went during my dry stint of nothing, but now I actually feel like I'm missing it when I don't have it on me at times, like during coffee shop visits.

And I kinda... want to MAKE a thing again.

(Just thinking out loud again, pay no mind.)

I miss having a Project.

Jumping back into making fully plotted out comic feels a bit too much at this stage, though, so I probably won't dedicate myself wholely to something of that scale.

I don't know what exactly will be the final shape of Arcanth's eventual thing, but I'm currently enjoying myself in the fiddly worldbuilding stage. (And just so you know, in the slight off chance that I might maybe pick Wurr back up again some day, I probably won't tell you about it. After all this time and all the messages I've gotten, I don't trust you guys with that one anymore. Even if I would eventually get back to posting it online, it won't happen untill I have a full year's worth of buffer and that would still be a loooooooong way from now even IF I got back to it full time, and I still have that day job besides anyway.)

But what if...

I think an art book or a zine or something might be more achievable at this point.

I feel like the dinosaur project thingy needs some more fiddling with its eventual format (I know I already have enough concept doodles to fill a zine on its own, but I crave an excuse to go ham with watercolors and make full illustrations), but it's one option I still want to make eventually.

And I kinda want to do a slight redesign for the Singing People. (I bought a skull replica a while ago that had narrower snout than how I had drawn them. And I know it doesn't matter that much, and I can always invoke artistic licence and "they aren't necessarily supposed to be any specific real life dinosaur species, it could always go with the 'undiscovered' route if I feel like it and the Troodon/Stenonychosaurus material is super fragmentary anyway", but I'm pretty sure it would bother me anyway if I didn't at least try it out and see how it looked.)

Though I think I got an idea about what to do with Entica!

Those of you who've been here a while know that one started out as my pandemic project. The world had just shut down along with my job warehouse, things were still new and uncertain, and I suddenly had so much free time and not much to sink my creative juices into, and I wanted something low pressure to do.

So I dug up an old setting from my teenage years two decades ago, gave it a facelift, threw out my teenage baggage and just ran wild. No planning, no plot, just art.

The "no planning" part did get back to bite me when the morbs eventually hit and I finally ran out of the creative juices, but that's still a lot of very good material, right there, ready to use.

But I just thought of a new framing device that would work with the already existing material AND give the character more of a goal and agency to make plotting more fun! And I think I like it.

Instead of a random scribe with no background from a place I didn't bother designing who just wants to see the world, Didor now works for a library that has sent her on a mission [to document something and/or take a message to *place*]. She still wants to see the world, but now she has a background, goal and a motive to do so!

And instead of just hanging around at Maaro's cart while Maaro does her own unrelated thing, Maaro is actively helping in her goal! While also doing her job.

I feel that having Didor be on a field work mission would give it more structure while not having to technically retcon anything already existing, and gives more solid excuse to do things than "random encounter number 82" would. Also potential reasons for further adventures ("While you're already out there, could you maybe also do X on the way?")

Also I want to insert nawani in it earlier. I didn't even have them as part of the setting untill psrt way through, and I want to show them off more.

Maybe a travel journal, perhaps?

[littletron]

Okay, so, a "Werewolf" etymologically is literally a man(wer) Wolf(Wolf) via old english (actual old English, I don't go using the phrase "old English" when I mean "early modern English" like some humans do.)

Anyway, old English "Wer" was gendered. That is, the term "Mann/man" would be the one used for the generic "a human individual" that we by default assume werewolf would be referring to.

Which means a lady werewolf would be a "wifwolf".

And a werewolf of any gender should be a manwolf. (I am knowingly committing the etymological fallacy for funsies. Feel free to punish me however is appropriate for such an affront.)

Based on this analysis, I can only conclude that all warehouses are men.

[dreameroffandomsblog]

Title: In the Shadows of Silence (Part 2)

---

You spent the rest of the day avoiding the others. It wasn’t hard—everyone was always so busy with their own missions, training, or research that your absence was hardly noticed. As the hours passed, the knot in your chest tightened, making it harder to breathe.

By the time dinner rolled around, you had hoped that maybe, just maybe, someone would call for you. But when you finally made your way down to the dining room, the table was already empty. The remains of a meal sat on the counter, likely left for you by Alfred.

They had eaten without you.

It stung, more than you cared to admit. The Batfamily was notorious for being independent, for disappearing for hours—or even days—on missions. But tonight felt different. You weren't just physically alone; you felt emotionally forgotten.

You sat at the counter, picking at the cold food on your plate, but the appetite just wasn’t there. The quiet of the manor was oppressive, and your thoughts spiraled deeper into the darkness.

Why were you even here? Bruce had taken you in with promises of purpose and belonging, but every passing day, it felt more like you were an afterthought. Just another member of the Batfamily, but one who wasn’t essential. Not like the others.

Finishing the food without tasting it, you pushed the plate away and stood up. Maybe you could just disappear for a while. See if anyone even noticed.

The thought clung to you like a shadow as you walked back to your room. There, sitting on your bed, you stared out the window, the skyline of Gotham looming in the distance. The city was alive with danger, chaos, and excitement—and you were stuck in the safety of Wayne Manor, benched like a side character in a story that wasn’t yours.

Enough was enough.

You changed into your suit, the one Bruce had reluctantly given you after months of training. It wasn’t as advanced as the others, but it would do. You pulled up the mask and headed towards the Batcave. If no one would take you seriously as part of the family, then you’d prove it yourself. You’d patrol Gotham tonight, with or without their permission.

When you reached the cave, it was eerily quiet. No signs of Bruce, Tim, or anyone else. Maybe they were out on another mission. All the more reason for you to do this alone.

You approached the Batbike—a smaller, sleeker model that had become yours by default—and swung your leg over it. The engine roared to life as you took off into the night, your heart pounding in your chest, a mix of fear and defiance fueling your actions.

The city passed in a blur, dark alleys and neon lights casting shadows across your vision. It was exhilarating, but also terrifying. This was your first solo patrol, and though you’d been trained, the reality of Gotham’s dangers was hitting you harder than you expected.

As you rode, you caught sight of something strange—movement in one of the warehouses by the docks. The logical part of your brain told you to report it, to let Bruce or Dick know. But the other part, the one desperate to prove yourself, pushed you forward.

Parking the bike in a shadowed corner, you approached the warehouse cautiously, your hand ready on the grapple. The air was cold, filled with the scent of the harbor, and you could hear muffled voices inside. Creeping closer, you spotted several armed men moving crates—smuggling operations, most likely.

You couldn’t take them all on, not alone. But maybe you could sabotage them, call for backup when things got too intense. Just as you were about to engage, you heard a familiar voice behind you.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Jason.

You turned around, heart leaping into your throat. Jason stood there in his Red Hood gear, arms crossed, his gaze piercing through you. He didn’t seem angry—more… confused. Maybe even a little impressed.

“I…” you stammered, feeling the weight of your decision sink in. “I’m patrolling.”

“Patrolling?” He scoffed, stepping closer. “You’re out here alone, in one of the most dangerous parts of Gotham, without backup. This isn’t patrolling. It’s suicide.”

You clenched your fists, the familiar sting of being underestimated bubbling up inside you. “I can handle myself, Jason.”

He raised an eyebrow, not convinced. “Can you? Because last I checked, you haven’t exactly been out here like the rest of us. What were you going to do? Take all of them down by yourself?”

His words cut deeper than you expected. “I’m part of this family too, Jason. But no one seems to notice. I’m always left behind. So yeah, I decided to prove myself.”

Jason’s eyes softened slightly, his usual hard exterior cracking just a little. “So that’s what this is about.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I get it. I know what it’s like to feel invisible in this family. Trust me.”

You blinked, not expecting him to relate to how you felt. “Then why is it always like this? Why do I feel like I don’t matter?

Jason looked away for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully. “Because Bruce… he’s not good at the whole family thing. He doesn’t mean to push you aside. None of us do. It’s just… this life, it consumes you. We get lost in it.”

You swallowed hard, not sure if his words made you feel better or worse. “So what am I supposed to do?”

Jason smirked, placing a hand on your shoulder. “First, don’t do something this reckless again. You want to be part of the team? Fine. But you do it the right way. Come on, let’s get out of here before these guys notice we’re standing around like idiots.”

You glanced back at the warehouse. “But the smuggling operation—”

“We’ll call it in. Gotham’s a team effort, remember?”

For the first time in a long while, you smiled. Maybe things weren’t perfect. Maybe you still felt neglected. But at least tonight, someone saw you.

---

To be continued...

--

What did you think of this second part? Should I keep going in this direction or make any changes? Let me know!

[masodemic]

I'll never get over the fact that Near sculpts new puppets to represent any added personnel to the Kira case BUT NOT LIGHT

He just keeps using that default cheeky ass cartoonish puppet to represent Kira. Even after he's certain Light was Kira, he still refuses to sculpt Light 🤣 boyo was not giving Light his time of day

(Even Takada Kiyomi who Near explicitly dislikes gets a personal puppet)

Look at that lil face, I know Light was seething when he saw the puppet line up at the Yellow Box Warehouse

[cynic-spirit]

Indebted I

Mob steve Rogers

fluff

warnings : very long

Steve Rogers, the name alone sent chills down the spines of everyone in the city. He was known not just for his brutality but for his unwavering resolve. When Steve Rogers came for you, there was no escape, no redemption—only the cold, hard consequences of your actions. He ruled the underworld with an iron fist, and today, he was about to remind everyone why his name was whispered in fear.

The meeting was set in a dimly lit warehouse on the outskirts of the city. The walls, stained with years of neglect and shadowed with the memories of countless deals and broken promises, felt almost alive with the tension in the air. Steve sat at the head of a long table, his cold blue eyes scanning the room, waiting for the arrival of the man who had dared to default on his loan.

The door creaked open, and in stumbled a man, his clothes disheveled, his face drenched in sweat. His eyes darted nervously around the room before finally settling on Steve, who remained as still as a statue, his expression unreadable.

"Mr. Rogers," the man stammered, his voice trembling. "I—I just need a little more time. Please, I can get the money, I swear."

Steve said nothing, his gaze steady and unflinching. He leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled in front of him. Silence stretched on, suffocating the room, until finally, Steve spoke, his voice calm but laced with menace.

"Time," Steve repeated, the word hanging in the air. "Time is a luxury you don't have."

The man's face paled, his legs nearly giving out beneath him. He knew there was no bargaining with Steve Rogers. The man was infamous for his lack of mercy; those who crossed him never lived to tell the tale.

But then, something unexpected happened. The door to the warehouse opened again, and a young woman stepped inside. She was nothing like the men who usually frequented these places—her presence was almost ethereal, out of place in the dark, foreboding surroundings. Her eyes were wide with fear, but there was a spark of defiance in them as well.

"Y/N!"

The man gasped, his voice a mixture of relief and horror. "What are you doing here?"

She stood tall, though her hands trembled slightly as she faced Steve. "I came to see if there's anything I can do to help," she said, her voice steady despite the situation.

Steve's eyes flicked to her, taking in every detail—the determination in her eyes, the way she held herself, the subtle strength she tried to project. For a moment, he said nothing, simply observing her.

"Your sister?" Steve asked, turning his gaze back to Mr. Walker.

HE nodded quickly, his breath coming in short, desperate bursts. "Y-Yes, she's my sister. Please, Steve, don't involve her in this. This is my mess; I'll find a way to fix it."

But Steve was no longer listening to him. His attention was fully on Y/N now, and an idea began to form in his mind. He could see the fear in her eyes, yes, but also something more—an unspoken strength that intrigued him.

"You came here to help your brother," Steve said slowly, standing up and walking around the table toward her. He was towering over her now, his presence as intimidating as it was commanding. "But helping him may come at a price."

Y/N held her ground, refusing to back away even as Steve loomed over her. "What do you want?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

A slow, cold smile curved Steve’s lips. "Your brother's debt," he said, glancing briefly at her brother before turning back to Y/N, "is substantial. But, I could be persuaded to forgive it."

his eyes widened in shock, his breath catching in his throat. "What… what do you mean?"

Steve didn't answer him. Instead, he took a step closer to Y/N, his eyes locking onto hers. "You," he said softly, though his voice carried an undeniable weight. "You stay with me. In return, your brother walks away, debt-free."

The room fell into a deathly silence. Y/N's heart pounded in her chest, and she could feel the weight of her brother's desperate gaze on her. She knew what this meant—what Steve Rogers was asking of her. The choice was impossible, yet she knew, deep down, that she had no real choice at all.

"I—" she started, but the words caught in her throat. Steve’s eyes softened, but just barely. There was no real kindness there, only a calculating interest.

"Think carefully," Steve said, his voice low, almost a whisper. "Your brother's life hangs in the balance. But with me, you will be protected. No harm will come to you—as long as you stay by my side."

Y/N swallowed hard, her mind racing. She glanced at her brother, who was shaking his head frantically, tears streaming down his face. But she knew, just as well as he did, that there was no escaping this. Steve Rogers had made his offer, and she had to decide.

With a deep breath, Y/N nodded, her eyes never leaving Steve’s. "I’ll do it," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "I’ll stay with you."

Steve’s smile widened, and he reached out, gently lifting her chin so she was forced to look up at him. "Good," he murmured, his voice dangerously smooth. "Very good."

He turned to Mr. Walker, who had collapsed to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably. "The debt is forgiven," Steve said coldly. "But remember this day, Walker. Remember what it cost."

Without another word, Steve took Y/N by the arm and led her out of the warehouse. As they stepped into the cold night air, Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine. She knew she had just made a deal with the devil—a deal that would change her life forever.

But she also knew that, in doing so, she had saved her brother. And for that, she was willing to pay any price.The car’s engine purred softly as it sped through the quiet streets, the city lights flickering past in a blur. Inside, the atmosphere was thick with tension. Steve sat beside Y/N in the backseat, his gaze shifting between the road ahead and the woman beside him. She was a picture of nervousness—her fingers twisting together in her lap, her eyes fixed on the window as if the passing scenery could offer her some escape from the reality she was now facing.

Steve couldn’t help but notice the way her shoulders tensed with every passing moment, the subtle rise and fall of her chest as she struggled to keep her breathing steady. She was trying so hard to hold it together, to hide her fear, but Steve saw right through it. And yet, there was something about her—a quiet strength, a kind of gentle resilience—that only drew him in further.

“I’m a mobster, but I’m not a monster,” Steve said softly, his voice cutting through the silence. He watched her closely, hoping for a reaction, but she remained quiet, her gaze still locked on the world outside. “I’ll win your heart,” he added, more to himself than to her.

From the moment he had seen her in that warehouse, Steve had felt something he hadn’t experienced in a long time—a deep, inexplicable longing. There was a beautiful kindness about her, a shyness that was endearing rather than timid. She was withdrawn, yes, but in a way that made him want to draw her out, to uncover the depths of who she was. Her quiet demeanor, so different from the harshness of his world, had caught him off guard. And in that moment, he knew—he wanted her to be his.

As they drove through the city, Steve found himself imagining a future with her, a future he had never allowed himself to consider before. The thought of a family, of someone to come home to, someone who would see past the darkness in him, was almost foreign, yet the idea planted itself firmly in his mind. He had taken many things in his life—power, respect, fear—but this was different. This was something he wanted to earn.

“I’ll give you everything,” Steve promised, his voice steady, carrying the weight of his resolve. He glanced at her again, hoping for a response, but Y/N remained silent, her fingers still fiddling nervously in her lap. She continued to look out the window, as if the outside world was the only thing grounding her in this moment.

The silence was heavy, and Steve felt a pang of frustration mingled with a strange kind of vulnerability. He was used to getting what he wanted, used to commanding obedience and loyalty without question. But this—this was different. Y/N wasn’t someone he could intimidate or control. He knew that if he wanted her heart, he would have to earn it, piece by piece, and that would require patience, something he wasn’t accustomed to.

But he was willing to try.

He reached out slowly, his hand brushing lightly against hers. The touch was brief, tentative, as if he were testing the waters. She stiffened slightly but didn’t pull away. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for Steve. For now, he would be patient. For now, he would wait.

Because deep down, he knew that the moment he had laid eyes on her, he had decided that she was going to be his. And Steve Rogers always got what he wanted.The car pulled up to the gates of Steve’s mansion, and as they swung open, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a mix of awe and apprehension. The mansion was enormous, an imposing structure of stone and glass that loomed over the perfectly manicured lawns. It was the kind of place she had only ever seen in magazines or on television, and now, it was to be her home—or prison, she wasn’t sure which.

Steve led her inside, his presence commanding as he moved through the grand foyer. The floors gleamed under the soft glow of the chandelier overhead, and every piece of furniture, every detail, spoke of wealth and power. Y/N followed silently, her eyes wide as she took in her surroundings. She had never been anywhere like this before, and the sheer opulence of it all left her feeling small, out of place.

“This will be your room,” Steve said, stopping in front of a set of double doors. He pushed them open, revealing a suite that was larger than her entire apartment had been. The bed was massive, draped in silk and velvet, and the walls were lined with art she couldn’t even begin to put a price on. There was a walk-in closet that seemed to stretch on forever, and the bathroom was more luxurious than any spa she had ever seen.

Y/N stood in the doorway, unable to hide the surprise and disbelief on her face. “Feel free to roam around,” Steve added, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. “You’re free to go anywhere in the house.”

She nodded, but didn’t say anything, her gaze still wandering over the room, trying to process everything. Steve watched her, a part of him hoping for some sign of excitement, some indication that she was pleased, but she remained quiet, reserved.

Days passed, and Steve made it his mission to shower her with everything she could possibly want. He arranged for an entire wardrobe to be delivered to the mansion—clothes, shoes, jewelry, all of the finest quality. He took her to dinners at the most expensive restaurants, their tables always the best in the house, their meals prepared by renowned chefs. But through it all, Y/N remained distant, polite but reserved, offering him nothing more than a few words at a time.

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Hmm.”

Those were the answers she gave, nothing more. And though Steve tried to engage her, to draw her out of her shell, she remained quiet, her eyes often turned inward, as if she were lost in her own thoughts. It wasn’t that she was ungrateful—Steve could tell she appreciated the gestures, but she never asked for anything, never demanded more than what she had.

If anything, it seemed as though she didn’t care about the wealth, the luxury, or the attention. She accepted it, but it was clear that none of it mattered to her. And that only made Steve more intrigued, more drawn to her.

He found himself watching her more often, studying the way she moved, the way she spoke, even the way she would pause before giving him those simple, measured responses. She was introspective, always thinking, always considering, and that fascinated him. She wasn’t like anyone else he had ever met.

In his world, people were always wanting, always taking, always demanding more. But Y/N didn’t seem to want anything from him. She was content to be quiet, to keep to herself, and that quiet strength, that calm demeanor, made Steve want to know her even more.

He knew he was falling deeper into something he hadn’t expected—a growing affection, a need to be close to her, to see her smile, to hear her laugh. But he was patient. He knew that she had been thrust into a world that was unfamiliar, overwhelming. And so, he waited, knowing that someday, she would open up to him, that someday, she would see that his feelings for her were genuine.

For now, though, he was content to be near her, to slowly earn her trust, to show her that he was not just the ruthless man the world knew him to be. He wanted to show her that he could be more—that he could be the man she needed, the man who would protect her, care for her, and, one day, win her heart.

It was another one of their dinner nights, set in the private dining room of Steve's mansion. The table was elegantly set, the flickering candlelight casting a warm glow over the room. The atmosphere was intimate, but as always, Y/N was quiet, her presence reserved, her eyes focused on the meal before her.

Steve watched her for a moment before picking up his fork and taking the first bite of the ravioli. The moment the flavors hit his palate, his eyes widened slightly in surprise. The dish was incredible—rich, savory, with just the right balance of textures and flavors. He hadn’t expected it to be this good, even for the high standards he was accustomed to.

“This is delicious,” he remarked, his voice filled with genuine appreciation. He glanced at Y/N, hoping for some reaction, perhaps a smile, or even just a nod of agreement.

Instead, she responded softly, “Thank you.”

Steve paused, his brow furrowing in confusion. He hadn’t expected that response. “What?” he asked, his tone laced with curiosity and surprise. It wasn’t the kind of polite acknowledgment he expected; it was as if she was personally accepting the compliment.

Y/N hesitated for a brief moment, her fingers playing with the edge of her napkin. Then, finally, she looked up at him, meeting his gaze for the first time that evening. “I cooked it,” she said quietly, her voice steady but carrying the weight of a small, significant revelation.

Steve blinked, momentarily taken aback. He hadn’t known that she could cook, let alone that she had been the one to prepare the meal they were eating. For a few seconds, he just stared at her, processing this new piece of information, feeling a strange sense of pride mixed with intrigue.

“You… cooked this?” he repeated, his tone softer now, almost gentle.

Y/N nodded, her eyes dropping back to her plate. “Yes. I used to cook a lot before… before all this,” she added, gesturing vaguely at the mansion around them.

A slow smile spread across Steve’s face, a rare, genuine one that reached his eyes. For the first time since she had come into his life, she had shared something about herself, something personal. And it wasn’t just the words—it was the act itself, the fact that she had chosen to cook for him. In a way, it was the most meaningful thing she could have done, more significant than any material gift she could have offered.

“Well, you’re a hell of a cook,” he said, his voice warm with appreciation. “This is the best meal I’ve had in a long time.”

Y/N’s lips curved into the smallest hint of a smile, but she quickly looked down, hiding it before it could fully form. “I’m glad you like it,” she murmured, returning to her meal.

But Steve’s smile remained, and as they continued eating, the silence between them felt different—less heavy, more comfortable. It was as if a small barrier had been lifted, and in that moment, Steve felt a new sense of hope. He knew she was still guarded, still unsure of him and her place in his world, but this was a start. She had let him in, just a little, and that was enough for now.

As they finished the meal, Steve found himself thinking not just about how much he enjoyed the ravioli, but about how much he wanted to know more about her—what else she liked to cook, what other interests she had, what made her smile. He realized that he wasn’t just drawn to her quiet strength anymore; he was beginning to care about her, to want her happiness.

And that realization only made him more determined to win her heart, one small step at a time.It wasn’t that Y/N was blind to Steve’s appeal. He was an incredibly handsome man—tall, muscular, with chiseled features that looked like they were carved from stone. His blue eyes could be both icy and warm, depending on his mood, and when he walked around shirtless after his workouts, the sight of his sculpted physique was undeniably captivating. In another life, under different circumstances, Y/N knew she might have found herself falling for him—dating him, maybe even imagining a future together.

But that wasn’t the life she was living. Instead, she was here, in this gilded cage, with a man who had taken her into his world without giving her a choice. The fact that he was a mobster, someone who lived in a world of violence and crime, made it all the more difficult for her to reconcile her feelings. Yes, Steve was doing everything he could to make her comfortable—showering her with luxuries, trying to get to know her, even cooking meals together—but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being held against her will, that her life was no longer her own.

Every time Steve smiled at her, every time he tried to be kind, she felt a pang of guilt and confusion. She didn’t want to resent him—he was, after all, trying to make things right in his own way—but she couldn’t ignore the reality of the situation. She was with him because she had no other choice, and that sense of obligation weighed heavily on her heart.

It wasn’t easy, living in this liminal space between attraction and apprehension. On one hand, she couldn’t deny the chemistry that simmered between them, the way her heart skipped a beat whenever he was near. On the other hand, she was constantly reminded of the circumstances that had brought her here, and the darker side of Steve’s life that she couldn’t ignore.

Steve seemed to sense her hesitation, but he didn’t push her. He was patient, almost painfully so, as if he knew that forcing her would only drive her further away. But his patience only added to her confusion. How could someone who was capable of such ruthlessness also show such tenderness? It was a contradiction that left her feeling unsettled, unsure of what to believe.

In the quiet moments, when she was alone in her room or wandering the halls of the mansion, Y/N often found herself questioning everything. What did Steve really want from her? Could she ever truly be happy with someone who had taken away her freedom? And most importantly, could she trust him? Could she trust herself around him?

These thoughts haunted her, even as she tried to navigate this strange new life. And while Steve’s efforts didn’t go unnoticed, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that she was living on borrowed time, that the life she had known was slipping further and further away. And in its place was something she wasn’t sure she could accept, no matter how much her heart might betray her.The club was buzzing with energy, the low thrum of the music vibrating through the walls and the steady pulse of the lights casting shadows that danced across the crowd. It was one of Steve’s many establishments, a place where he conducted business under the guise of pleasure, blending the two effortlessly. He sat in his usual spot, a private booth overlooking the main floor, his sharp eyes taking in everything around him while his mind worked through the intricacies of the deals being made, the power plays being executed.

Beside him, Y/N sat quietly, as she often did, her presence a stark contrast to the chaos around them. She had never quite adjusted to these outings, but she had learned to blend in, to become almost invisible in her silence. Steve had grown used to her quiet demeanor, but tonight, something was different. She shifted slightly in her seat, her gaze moving from the bustling bar to Steve’s watchful face.

“Can I go get a drink?” she asked, her voice soft yet steady, breaking the silence between them.

Steve turned to look at her, his expression unreadable for a moment. The request was simple enough, but in his world, even the smallest actions carried weight. “Hold on,” he replied, already signaling to one of his men. “Let me get someone to get it for you, doll.”

“No, it’s okay,” she interjected quickly, her tone gentle but insistent. “Please,” she added, her eyes meeting his.

That one word—please—had a way of unraveling him, and she had no idea how much power she wielded with it. Steve felt something inside him soften, a sensation he rarely experienced. She had no idea how she had wrapped him around her finger, how much he enjoyed the subtle control she unknowingly held over him. It was a strange feeling for a man like him, one who was used to commanding every situation, every person around him. But when it came to her, he found himself powerless in the best way.

“Sure, doll,” he finally said, his voice low, almost affectionate. “Go get it.”

Y/N offered him a small, grateful smile before standing up and making her way through the crowd. Steve watched her go, his eyes following her every step, the way she moved so gracefully, even in a place like this. She wasn’t like anyone else here—she didn’t belong in this world of shadows and secrets. And yet, here she was, standing out like a beacon of light in the darkness.

He leaned back in his seat, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth. She had asked him for something so simple, and he had given in without a second thought. It wasn’t just about the drink; it was about the way she made him feel, the way she had slowly but surely worked her way into his life, his heart. She had no idea, of course, but Steve found himself enjoying this new dynamic between them—the power she unknowingly held, and the way it made him want to be better, to be someone worthy of her trust.

As Y/N reached the bar, Steve kept his gaze on her, subtly directing his men to ensure she was safe, but not interfering. He knew she needed this moment, this small taste of independence, and he was willing to give it to her. For now, he would let her think she was just a quiet presence in his life, unaware of the profound effect she had on him.

But he knew the truth, and that was enough to keep him anchored in the storm of his world, all because of the power she unknowingly had over him.Y/N stood at the bar, waiting patiently as the bartender prepared her drink. The club was a whirlwind of activity around her, with people laughing, dancing, and losing themselves in the music. She took a deep breath, momentarily closing her eyes to steady herself. Being in Steve’s world was overwhelming, but moments like this—where she could feel a sliver of independence—helped her find her footing.

The bartender handed her the drink with a nod, and she thanked him softly, wrapping her fingers around the cool glass. As she turned to head back to Steve, she felt a sudden, unwelcome presence behind her.

Before she could react, a hand brushed too close against her body, lingering in a way that made her stomach churn with unease. The grip was firm and inappropriate, the touch invasive. It wasn’t an accident, and she knew it.

Y/N gasped, the shock causing her to lose her grip on the glass. It fell to the floor, shattering into pieces as the liquid splashed across the ground. She spun around quickly, her heart pounding in her chest, and found herself staring at a young man who was clearly drunk, his eyes glazed over with a mix of alcohol and poor intentions.

“What the hell?” she whispered, her voice trembling as she instinctively stepped back, putting distance between them.

The man leered at her, seemingly unbothered by the mess he’d just caused or the discomfort in her eyes. He moved closer, his breath reeking of alcohol, a sleazy grin spreading across his face. “Aw, come on, sweetheart,” he slurred, reaching out as if to grab her again.

Y/N’s pulse raced as panic began to set in. She knew she needed to get away, to put even more distance between them, but before she could make a move, a shadow fell over them both.

Steve had been watching the entire scene unfold from his booth. His relaxed demeanor evaporated the moment he saw the man touch Y/N. A slow, burning rage began to boil in his chest, his hand tightening around his glass until his knuckles turned white.

The man was oblivious, too drunk and too arrogant to realize that by touching her, he had just signed his own death sentence.

In an instant, Steve was on his feet, his expression a mask of cold fury. He moved through the crowd with a purpose, the clubgoers instinctively parting for him as they felt the shift in the atmosphere. There was something deadly in the air, something that made everyone step back and give him space.

Before Y/N could react further, Steve was there, positioning himself between her and the drunken man. His presence was commanding, and the drunken fool finally seemed to realize that he had made a grave mistake. Steve’s eyes were dark, filled with a quiet, terrifying rage that sent a chill down the man’s spine.

“Get your filthy hands off her,” Steve said, his voice low and lethal. The words were quiet, but they carried the weight of a threat that was impossible to ignore.

The man stumbled back, suddenly sobering as he registered who he was dealing with. “I-I’m sorry, man, I didn’t—” he began to stammer, but Steve cut him off with a look that could kill.

“Too late for apologies,” Steve snarled, his hand shooting out to grab the man by the collar. He yanked him close, their faces inches apart. “You have no idea who you just messed with.”

Y/N, still shaken, watched in stunned silence as Steve effortlessly manhandled the man. The transformation from the quiet, contemplative Steve she had seen earlier to this vengeful, protective force was startling. She could feel the tension radiating off him, a deadly promise that he wouldn’t let this slide.

Steve glanced back at her for a moment, his expression softening slightly when their eyes met. He didn’t say anything, but the look was enough to reassure her that he was in control, that she was safe.

Then, without another word, Steve turned his attention back to the man, who was now trembling in fear. “You’re going to wish you’d never laid eyes on her,” Steve growled before nodding to his men, who had quickly surrounded them.

The man was dragged away, his protests and pleas for mercy falling on deaf ears. Steve didn’t need to give orders—his men knew exactly what to do. The club returned to its usual rhythm, as if nothing had happened, though the regulars knew better than to forget this night.

Steve turned back to Y/N, his expression softening once more as he gently placed a hand on her arm. “You okay, doll?” he asked, his voice quiet, filled with concern.

She nodded, though her heart was still racing. “I’m… I’m fine,” she whispered, trying to steady her breathing. She looked down at the shattered glass on the floor, the remnants of her drink, and then back at Steve. “I didn’t mean for—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve interrupted, his tone firm but caring. “None of this was your fault.”

He guided her back to the booth, his hand never leaving her side, as if he was afraid to let her out of his sight. Once they were seated again, he turned to one of the staff members, his voice authoritative as he ordered them to bring her a new drink.

As they waited, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a mix of emotions—relief that Steve had been there to protect her, but also a lingering unease about the world she was now a part of. The way he had dealt with the man was a stark reminder of who he was, the power he wielded, and the dark side of the life she was caught up in.

But as Steve gently squeezed her hand, offering her a reassuring smile, she felt a strange sense of comfort in his presence. Despite everything, she knew that, in his own way, Steve cared for her deeply, and that he would do anything to keep her safe.

Even if it meant becoming the monster others feared.Steve watched Y/N intently, every detail of her expression etched into his mind. The bustling noise of the club faded away as he focused entirely on her. When she finally spoke, her voice was so soft that it could have been lost in the din around them, but Steve heard her perfectly.

“Steve,” she called out quietly.

He turned to her immediately, his expression softening at the sound of her voice. In that moment, nothing else mattered. “What is it, doll?” he asked gently, his concern evident.

Y/N hesitated, biting her lip as she tried to find the right words. “What will happen to that guy?” she asked, her voice almost a whisper.

Steve’s jaw tightened, but he kept his voice calm, not wanting to scare her. “Don’t worry about it, doll,” he replied, his hand reaching out to tuck a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.

But Y/N wasn’t satisfied. She shook her head, her brows knitting together with concern. “You know he was drunk, Steve. It happens… People get out of hand when they drink.”

Her words were a quiet plea for mercy, but Steve couldn’t let it slide. Not when it came to her. His eyes darkened, a shadow of the anger he’d felt earlier returning. He leaned in closer, his voice low and firm as he responded.

“No one messes with my queen,” he said, his tone carrying an unyielding edge. “Drunk or not, he touched what was mine.”

Y/N’s breath caught at the possessiveness in his voice, and she looked up at him, her eyes searching his. “Steve, I—” she began, but he gently interrupted, taking her hand in his.

“Doll,” he said softly, his thumb tracing circles over her knuckles in a soothing motion, “you’re the most important thing in my life. I won’t let anyone disrespect you. Ever.”

As he spoke, his gaze softened, the fierceness giving way to a deeper emotion. “He crossed a line,” Steve continued, “and he has to face the consequences. It’s not about him being drunk; it’s about him thinking he could get away with touching you, thinking he could violate what’s mine.”

Without thinking, Steve leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, taking a chance he wasn’t sure he should. For a moment, his heart raced with anticipation, but when she didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away, a wave of relief and elation washed over him. She was letting him in, even if it was just a little.

Encouraged, Steve held her gaze, his voice a quiet promise. “You’re mine, Y/N. And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Even if it means being the monster they all fear.”

Y/N swallowed, her eyes flickering with a mix of emotions. “But… I don’t want anyone to get hurt because of me.”

Steve’s grip on her hand tightened slightly, and he leaned in closer, their faces just inches apart. “No one’s going to get hurt because of you, doll,” he assured her, his voice soft yet firm. “They’re going to get hurt because of me. Because I won’t let anyone think they can touch you and get away with it. Not in my world.”

He lifted her hand to his lips, kissing her fingers tenderly before brushing his lips against her cheek again, this time lingering just a moment longer. “You’re mine, and I’ll protect you with everything I have. You’ll warm up to me soon enough.”

She didn’t pull away, didn’t recoil from his touch, and that was all the encouragement Steve needed. The walls she’d built around herself were starting to crack, and he knew it was only a matter of time before she let him in completely.

Neither of them spoke after that. They didn’t need to. The silence between them was filled with understanding, a mutual recognition of the bond that was slowly forming. Steve might be a mobster, feared by all, but with Y/N, he was something else—something more. And as he sat there with her, feeling the warmth of her cheek against his lips, he knew that he would do whatever it took to earn her trust, to make her feel safe, to make her his in every way that mattered.The morning sun filtered through the large windows of Steve's mansion, casting a warm, golden light across the dining room. Steve sat at the head of the table, sipping his coffee as he watched Y/N quietly eat her breakfast across from him. The past five months had been a slow journey for both of them, with Y/N gradually opening up, bit by bit, to the man she now shared her life with. Steve had learned to cherish these quiet moments, her presence a soothing balm to his often chaotic world.

As he reached for a piece of toast, he heard her soft voice break the silence.

“Steve.”

There it was again—the way she said his name. No matter how many times he heard it, it never failed to make his heart skip a beat. The simplicity of it, the way it rolled off her tongue, was his undoing. He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips, his usual stoic demeanor softening instantly.

“What is it, doll?” he asked, his tone warm and affectionate.

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes reflecting a hint of something different—something hopeful. She hesitated for just a moment before she spoke again, her voice tentative but clear. “Can we go out?”

Steve’s brows lifted in surprise. In the five months they had spent together, Y/N had never once asked for anything like this. He knew she was a homebody, content with the comfort and safety of the mansion. She never demanded anything extravagant, never sought out the kind of luxury that his wealth could provide. She was content in her quiet world, and Steve had grown to love that about her.

But this request—this simple question—caught him off guard in the best possible way. He set his coffee cup down and leaned forward slightly, his full attention on her. “You want to go out?” he asked, his voice laced with both curiosity and excitement.

Y/N nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. “Yes. I was thinking… maybe we could spend the day outside, together.”

Steve’s heart swelled at the thought. The idea of her wanting to spend the day with him, outside of the safety of their home, was both surprising and incredibly touching. He would take her anywhere, do anything she wanted. The entire world was at her feet, and he was more than willing to give it all to her.

“Anywhere you want, doll,” he said, his eyes shining with warmth. “Paris, Rome, a world tour—just name it, and we’ll go.”

Y/N blushed at his enthusiasm, but she shook her head with a soft laugh. “No, nothing like that. I was thinking something simpler.“Yes. I was thinking… maybe we could visit a bookshop.”

A bookshop. Steve hadn’t expected that, but the idea of it filled him with a warmth he hadn’t anticipated. He knew how much she loved to read—how she would often lose herself in a book for hours, her expression soft and content. The thought of sharing that with her, of seeing her in her element, made him smile.

“A bookshop?” he asked, his voice tinged with surprise and affection.

Y/N nodded again, her smile growing just a little. “Yes. There’s one I used to visit all the time. I’d love to go back.”

Steve didn’t answer right away. He leaned back slightly in his chair, his gaze steady on her as he took in the moment. This request, so simple and yet so personal, meant the world to him. It wasn’t just about going out—it was about her letting him into a part of her life, a part of herself that she hadn’t shared with him before.

Finally, he smiled, a genuine, warm smile that reached his eyes. “Doll,” he began softly, “you’ve got it. We’ll go to that bookshop today.”

Y/N’s eyes lit up with a mixture of surprise and happiness. Steve felt a thrill of joy at her reaction, knowing that this small gesture meant more to her than any grand outing he could have planned. The idea of spending the day with her, doing something she loved, filled him with a sense of contentment he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“When do you want to go?” Steve asked, eager to make her day special.

Y/N shrugged slightly, her smile lingering. “Whenever you’re free.”

Steve didn’t need to think about it. “I’m free now,” he said, standing up and reaching out his hand to her. “Let’s go right now, doll.”

Y/N looked at his outstretched hand, then up at him, her eyes wide with a mix of surprise and anticipation. She hesitated for just a moment before placing her hand in his, letting him pull her up from her seat. Steve’s heart raced with excitement as he led her out of the dining room, already planning how he would make this day perfect for her.

As they walked toward the door, Steve glanced down at her, his heart swelling with affection. “Thank you,” he said softly, squeezing her hand.

Y/N looked up at him, puzzled. “For what?”

Steve smiled, shaking his head slightly. “For asking me to go out with you.”

She still looked a bit confused, but she smiled back, a quiet understanding passing between them. Steve knew that this was more than just a visit to a bookshop—this was a step toward something deeper, something real. And as they stepped outside into the fresh morning air, he felt a deep sense of contentment.

He might be a powerful man, but right now, all that mattered was the woman beside him and the simple joy of spending the day together in a place she loved. Whatever she needed, wherever she wanted to go, he would be there, making sure she knew just how much she meant to him.Inside the cozy bookshop, Steve found himself more captivated by Y/N than by any of the books around him. He watched her as she moved from shelf to shelf, her eyes lighting up with excitement as she discovered new titles and old favorites. There was something incredibly endearing about the way she browsed, her fingers gently grazing the spines of the books as if she were greeting old friends.

Steve leaned against one of the nearby shelves, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He could stand there all day, just watching her like this. She had a few books in hand already, and he couldn’t help but admire how she carefully considered each choice. Little did she know that he would gladly buy the entire bookstore for her if she so much as hinted at wanting it. But what he loved most was how she valued money—how she never took anything for granted. It made him want to give her the world, to spoil her in ways she couldn’t even imagine.

After a while, Y/N approached him, her arms full of books. She had a stack in one hand and another book in her other hand, a thoughtful expression on her face.

“Can I purchase these?” she asked softly, looking up at him. She then hesitated, holding up the book in her hand. “This one’s an imported version. It’s slightly expensive… I’m not sure if I should get it.”

Steve’s heart melted at her words. Here she was, worried about the cost, while he was ready to buy anything and everything she wanted. Her modesty, her thoughtfulness—these were just a few of the things that made him fall for her even more.

“Doll,” Steve said, his voice filled with affection as he stepped closer to her. He gently touched her cheek, his thumb brushing against her soft skin. “Just take everything you want. Don’t worry about the price.”

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise. Steve could see the uncertainty in her gaze, but he smiled at her, hoping to ease her concerns.

“I mean it,” he continued, his tone full of love. “If you want it, it’s yours. You don’t have to hold back.”

She bit her lip, her eyes flickering between the books in her arms and his reassuring expression. Steve knew that she was still getting used to this—his world, his way of doing things—but he was determined to show her that she deserved all of it and more.

“Thank you, Steve,” she finally said, her voice soft but sincere.

Steve’s smile widened as he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Anything for you, doll.”

He watched as she carefully added the imported book to her stack, and he couldn’t help but feel a surge of happiness. This wasn’t just about the books—it was about showing her that he would always be there to support her, to make sure she had everything she needed and more. And as they walked to the counter together, Steve found himself already thinking of ways to make their next outing even more special.Steve had grown more confident with his touches lately. It started with simple gestures—a hand on her lower back as they walked together, a brush of his fingers against hers when passing her something, a gentle kiss on her cheek when she least expected it. Each time, he watched with a certain satisfaction as her cheeks flushed, a clear sign that his touches were having the effect he intended.

He found himself seeking out excuses just to be close to her, to feel the warmth of her skin under his fingertips. When they were sitting together, his hand would casually rest on her knee, his thumb lightly stroking the fabric of her jeans. If she passed by him in the house, he’d catch her hand, pulling her closer just to press a soft kiss on her forehead. Every little interaction seemed to draw them closer, and Steve reveled in the way she got flustered, her usual composure slipping just a bit.

He enjoyed watching the changes in her, seeing how she was beginning to respond to his affection, how her body seemed to lean into his touch rather than shy away from it. The more he touched her, the more natural it felt, and he couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of satisfaction knowing that she wasn’t pushing him away. If anything, it felt like she was slowly beginning to welcome it.In her own mind, Y/N was conflicted. At first, she had told herself that Steve’s touches were simply part of his possessiveness, a way to remind her that she belonged to him. But as the days passed, she found herself anticipating those moments—those little touches that sent shivers down her spine, the kisses that left her cheeks warm and her heart fluttering.

She couldn’t understand why she didn’t stop him. She could have pulled away, could have told him that it was too much, too fast. But she didn’t. Instead, she found herself enjoying the attention, the affection he showered her with. It was unlike anything she had experienced before—gentle, caring, almost tender. It was so different from the way she had imagined a man like Steve would behave, especially considering the circumstances under which they had met.

The way he touched her now wasn’t just possessive; it was loving, almost as if he were trying to communicate something deeper. Each caress, each kiss felt like a promise, like he was trying to show her that he could be more than just the ruthless mobster she had feared. And slowly, without even realizing it at first, she began to see herself less and less as a prisoner.

Instead of feeling trapped, she started to feel cared for, cherished even. Steve’s touches were no longer something she endured—they were something she found herself craving, something that made her feel wanted in a way she hadn’t felt before. The walls she had built around her heart were beginning to crumble, and she wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or terrified by that realization.

But for now, she allowed herself to enjoy it, to savor the warmth of his affection. Maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t as bad as she had feared. Maybe there was something real between them, something that could grow if she let it. And as she looked up at Steve, catching him smiling at her with that familiar, affectionate look in his eyes, she felt a spark of hope—hope that perhaps this was the beginning of something new, something that might just change everything.In the heart of the mansion, Y/N found herself wandering aimlessly through the expansive hallways. The silence was palpable, wrapping around her like a heavy blanket. She felt unusually lonely, an ache in her chest that she couldn’t quite place. Perhaps she missed Steve more than she realized, his presence a reassuring constant in her life. The thought both surprised and confused her.

Dressed in shorts and an oversized sweatshirt, she absentmindedly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, glancing out of the window at the sprawling grounds below. The sun was shining brightly, yet the warmth outside only deepened her sense of isolation. She couldn’t fathom why she felt this way; it was as if a part of her craved the chaos that accompanied Steve’s world, the vibrancy of his energy.

In an attempt to shake off the loneliness, she grabbed a book from the coffee table, deciding to venture downstairs. After all, Steve had told her more than once that she could roam around freely. With each step down the staircase, she felt a mix of anticipation and unease. What if he was busy? Would she be intruding?

As she reached the lower ground floor, she was greeted by an unsettling noise that made her pause. The sound of shouting and grunting echoed through the hall, sending a shiver down her spine. Y/N hesitated, her instincts urging her to turn back, but curiosity propelled her forward.

As she stepped into the basement, the scene before her unfolded like a nightmare. Steve stood there, his powerful frame towering over a man who was being restrained by two of Steve’s trusted friends, Sam and Bucky. The man was battered and bruised, clearly having received a severe beating for whatever betrayal he had committed.

“Who did you pass this information to?” Steve’s voice was low and threatening, a stark contrast to the warmth she usually experienced from him.

Y/N’s heart raced as she watched, rooted to the spot. She felt a mixture of fear and concern, her instincts battling against the unsettling sight. The tension in the room was thick, every punch landing with an unsettling force. She had always known that Steve had a darker side, but witnessing it firsthand left her feeling more vulnerable than ever.

Suddenly, the man was thrown toward the door, collapsing at Y/N’s feet. She gasped, instinctively bending down. “Are you okay?” she asked, her voice laced with genuine concern. The words slipped out before she could stop herself, a reflex born from her caring nature.

Steve groaned, a mix of love and frustration coursing through him. He couldn’t help but admire her innocence, how it shone through even in the midst of chaos. But that innocence also made him want to protect her from the world he inhabited, a world that was all too cruel.

“What are you doing here?” he finally asked, his tone softening slightly as he turned his attention to her, his expression shifting from fury to worry. The juxtaposition of his strength and her fragility was stark, and he felt a protective instinct surge within him.

“I… I was just roaming about,” Y/N admitted, her cheeks flushing slightly under his intense gaze. “I thought I’d come see if you were around.”

The raw vulnerability in her voice tugged at his heart, and he felt an overwhelming urge to gather her close, to shield her from everything that lurked in the shadows of his life. The sight of her standing there, book clutched in her hand, made him realize just how much he cherished her presence, even in moments like this.

“Doll,” he said gently, moving closer to her, the tension of the moment fading slightly as he reached out to touch her shoulder, grounding her. “You shouldn’t be down here. It’s not safe.”

Y/N met his gaze, her expression a mixture of confusion and concern. “I just wanted to see you,” she replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Steve’s heart swelled at her words, and he couldn’t help but feel a profound sense of love for her. “I appreciate that, but I need you to stay away from situations like this. I’ll handle it, I promise.”

She nodded, her eyes flickering to the man on the ground before returning to him. Despite the chaos around them, all she could focus on was Steve and the warmth of his hand on her shoulder, a comforting presence amidst the turmoil. Y/N felt a wave of panic wash over her as she realized the gravity of what she had just witnessed. The harsh reality of Steve's world pressed down on her, and she suddenly felt overwhelmed by it all. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt!” she exclaimed, her voice trembling. Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and hurried back upstairs, her heart racing.

As she ran through the halls, she felt the warmth of tears stinging her eyes. Once she reached the library, she quickly sank into one of the oversized sofa chairs, wrapping her arms around her knees and burying her face in them. The plush fabric was comforting, but it couldn’t ease the turmoil within her.

In the library, surrounded by shelves filled with books, she felt both isolated and safe. The soft light filtering through the windows provided a stark contrast to the chaos she had just left behind. Yet, despite the sanctuary of the room, she couldn’t shake the images of violence she had just witnessed, nor the realization that Steve was capable of such brutality.Downstairs, Steve watched her retreating figure with a growing sense of unease. He felt a conflict brewing within him, his heart heavy with concern. Had he scared her? Had he hurt her with the violence she had seen? The thought gnawed at him, and he felt a surge of guilt wash over him.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He had always tried to keep his world separate from hers, to shield her from the darkness that came with his line of work. But now, it felt as though he had failed miserably. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel uncomfortable or afraid because of him.

Sam and Bucky exchanged glances, sensing the shift in Steve’s mood. They had seen how Y/N looked when she entered the room, the concern etched on her face, and now they could see the tension radiating from Steve.

“Hey, man,” Sam said cautiously, “you okay?”

Steve shook his head, his brow furrowing. “No. I don’t think she’s okay. I didn’t want her to see that. I never wanted her to see that.”

Bucky shrugged slightly. “You know how it is. She’s tough. But maybe you should check on her. You know she’ll be thinking about it.”

Steve nodded, guilt swirling in his gut. He knew he needed to talk to her, to reassure her that everything was alright, that she was safe. He glanced down at the man on the floor, still recovering from the beating, before turning back to his friends. “I’ll handle this later. I need to go to her.”

Without another word, Steve made his way upstairs, his heart pounding as he approached the library door. He hesitated for a moment before pushing it open, the sight before him pulling at his heartstrings.

Y/N sat curled up in the chair, her face hidden against her knees. The sight of her vulnerability made him feel like a storm was brewing inside him. He stepped inside quietly, not wanting to startle her.

“Doll?” he called softly, his voice gentle. “Can I come in?”

Y/N lifted her head slightly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I… I’m fine,” she replied, though her voice wavered, betraying her.

Steve felt his heart break a little at her attempt to reassure him. “You don’t look fine,” he said, stepping closer. “I’m sorry you had to see that. I never wanted you to be involved in any of this.”

She blinked at him, and he could see the conflict in her eyes—the fear, the confusion, the concern for him. “I just… I didn’t know, Steve. I didn’t know it was like this.”

“I know,” he said, sinking to his knees beside her chair, so they were at eye level. “And I’m sorry. I should have kept you away from it.”

“I just wanted to see you,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t think…”

“I know,” he interrupted, his expression softening. “You don’t have to apologize. You have every right to be curious, but I need you to understand that this world isn’t safe for you. I can’t bear the thought of you getting hurt because of me.”

Y/N searched his eyes, and for a moment, it felt like the weight of the world was pressing down on both of them. “I’m not afraid of you, Steve,” she finally said, her voice steady. “I’m just… scared of what this means for us.”

Steve felt a lump form in his throat at her words. “I promise you, I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe. You mean too much to me.”

As they locked eyes, he could see her tension start to ease, even if only slightly. In that moment, he knew they would have to navigate the complexities of his world together. And despite the chaos that surrounded them, he would protect her, always.Y/N's question hung in the air, raw and unexpected. “What do I mean to you, Steve?” The directness of her inquiry caught him off guard, and he blinked at her, momentarily speechless. He had never anticipated she would be so bold, so willing to confront the unspoken tensions between them. In the past, he had been surrounded by people who rarely asked him direct questions—most were either too afraid or too wary of the man he had become.

Steve felt a rush of emotions coursing through him, a mixture of fear and exhilaration. He had built walls around his heart, convinced that no one would understand the darkness he carried. Yet here was Y/N, her gaze steady, her vulnerability laid bare, asking him to expose his own feelings. It was both terrifying and liberating.

He took a deep breath, searching for the right words to express the depth of what she meant to him. “You… you mean everything to me,” he finally admitted, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “You’re not just someone I’m protecting; you’re the light in my life.”

As he spoke, he noticed the flicker of surprise in her eyes, the way she absorbed his words as if they were a lifeline. It encouraged him to continue, to delve deeper into the emotions he had kept at bay for so long.

“I’ve never been good at this,” he confessed, running a hand through his hair, trying to gather his thoughts. “But you’ve changed me. You’ve shown me a side of myself I didn’t know I was capable of—kindness, tenderness. I’ve spent so long in this world of chaos and violence, and yet with you, I feel… different. Better.”

He hesitated, grappling with his emotions. “I want you to know that I love you, Y/N. I love you in a way I never thought I could love someone. You’ve made me want to be a better man.” The admission was like a weight lifted from his chest, freeing him from the chains of fear that had held him back.

Her expression shifted as she processed his words, and he could see the conflict in her eyes—a mix of surprise, hope, and uncertainty. “But I’m just… I’m just me,” she replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“No, you’re so much more than that,” Steve insisted, leaning closer to her, his gaze unwavering. “You’re strong and kind, and you have this ability to see through the darkness that surrounds me. You don’t let it define who you are, and that’s something I admire so much.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed at his praise, but her brow furrowed with concern. “But what does that mean for us? For your world? I’m still scared of what I saw earlier, Steve. I don’t want to be a part of that violence.”

“I know,” he said gently, reaching out to cup her cheek in his hand, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath his palm. “And I never want you to feel like you have to be. But you’re in my life now, and I’m committed to making sure you’re safe. I’ll fight for you, for us.”

As his thumb brushed over her cheek, he could see her softening, the tension in her shoulders easing. The vulnerability that had once filled her eyes was slowly being replaced with something warmer, a flicker of trust. “I want to be here for you, Steve, but I also want to understand. I need to know that I’m not just a part of your life because of the circumstances,” she said, searching his eyes for reassurance.

“You’re not just a part of my life because of that,” he vowed, his heart pounding. “You’re here because I choose you. I choose you every day, no matter how complicated my world gets. You’re my priority, and I will always do everything in my power to protect you.”

As the weight of his words settled between them, Y/N felt a swell of emotion. The love and determination in his eyes melted away her fears, replacing them with a budding sense of hope. It was clear that despite the chaos that surrounded them, there was something beautiful emerging from their connection—a bond that could withstand even the darkest storms.

“I love you too, Steve,” she said finally, her voice steady and strong. The declaration felt like a promise, a shared commitment to navigate the challenges ahead together. And in that moment, amidst the shadows of his world, they found light in each other’s hearts.Y/N’s heart raced as she whispered, “May I kiss you, Steve?” The words felt both bold and terrifying, a leap of faith that laid bare her emotions. She watched him closely, searching his face for any hint of hesitation, but instead, he chuckled softly, the sound warm and inviting.

“Doll, I have a gun upstairs,” he replied, his voice teasing yet earnest. “If I ever answer no to that question, shoot me with that.”

A playful smile tugged at the corners of her lips, the tension between them dissipating as she relaxed, buoyed by his lightheartedness. The teasing tone in his voice made her feel bold enough to push forward.

Steve closed the distance between them, his gaze locked onto hers, searching for any signs of uncertainty. But all he found was determination mixed with a hint of shyness. The world around them faded into the background, and the only thing that mattered was the moment they were about to share.

His hands came up to cradle her face, his touch gentle yet firm, and Y/N felt her breath hitch in her throat. The warmth of his palms against her skin sent a rush of electricity coursing through her body. She could feel the intensity in his gaze, the way he looked at her as if she were the only person in the world.

“Are you ready?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper, the air thick with anticipation.

With a small nod, Y/N felt her pulse quicken as Steve leaned in closer. Their lips were mere inches apart, and the world outside disappeared entirely. He hesitated for a moment, giving her a chance to pull away if she wanted, but she didn’t move.

As their lips finally met, it was like a spark igniting a fire. The kiss was tender at first, soft and explorative, as if they were both savoring the sweetness of the moment. Y/N melted into him, feeling the warmth radiate from his body, the solidness of him grounding her.

Steve’s lips moved against hers with a gentle urgency, deepening the kiss as he pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her waist. Y/N felt her heart soar, the kiss igniting a warmth within her that chased away all her fears. It was a kiss that spoke of promise and passion, of vulnerability and strength.

As they parted, both of them breathed heavily, foreheads resting against each other. Steve’s eyes sparkled with delight, and Y/N felt a soft smile creep across her face, their hearts racing in unison.

“Wow,” she breathed, her cheeks flushed with warmth.

Steve chuckled softly, brushing a thumb over her cheek. “Wow, indeed,” he replied, his voice low and filled with warmth. “I could get used to this.”

In that moment, everything felt right. The chaos of the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of them and the undeniable connection they had forged. It was a beginning—one filled with love, hope, and the promise of a future they would navigate together.Y/N looked down, her voice barely above a whisper as she said, “I’m sorry I came downstairs without permission.” The weight of her words hung in the air, laced with a mixture of regret and uncertainty.

Steve couldn’t help but smile softly at her. “Sweetheart,” he began, his tone gentle but firm, “and I say this for the final time: don’t apologize to me ever.” He reached out, lifting her chin so she would meet his gaze. “You can kill me, and I’ll still be happy, as long as it’s you.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, the unexpectedness of his words leaving her momentarily speechless. A warmth spread through her, and she could feel her cheeks flush.

“Okay?” he pressed, searching her eyes for understanding.

“Okay,” she replied, her heart swelling with affection. The sincerity in his eyes reassured her, making her feel cherished rather than confined.

“Good,” he said, his voice softening. “You have the right to be where you want to be, and I want you here with me.”

As they stood in that moment, the connection between them deepened, a bond forged not just by love but by understanding and acceptance.“Now I have to finish something downstairs, and I’ll be back, okay?” Steve said, his voice warm but tinged with a hint of seriousness. He wanted to ensure she understood that he would return, that he would never leave her alone for long.

Y/N nodded, a small smile creeping onto her lips. “Okay,” she replied softly, her heart still racing from their earlier exchange.

“Just stay here and relax,” he added, brushing his thumb across her cheek one last time. “If you need anything, call for me. I’ll be right back.”

part 2