#He wasn't deaf to the needs of his friends and would share some. But still zero hesitation about sticking his claws in other's pockets?? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rosesloveletters · 1 year ago

Text

all is fair in love.

Pairing: 1971 Willy Wonka x Fem. Reader

Word Count: 10,261

Warnings: sexual content / smut.

Summary: The holidays are Wonka's busiest season and his work keeps him away from reader much more than either of them would like. After hours, the two spend a passionate night together as they both make the necessary arrangements to be attentive to each other's needs and empathetic of the complexity of maintaining a healthy romantic relationship that neither reader nor Wonka are accustomed to.

Author's Note: my smut fics are always between 6-10k haha so enjoy. I edited this the best I could, but for some reason I kept switching between first person and second person pov for reader (I don't know why since I always write in second person pov.) I think I fixed most of it, so if there's any parts I missed, I'm sorry. Also, I'd like to mention that Christmas isn't inherently important to the events in this story. It is used as an element only to convey why Wonka is so busy during this time of year, because most people like to buy chocolate and candy as gifts. I know Gene was Jewish, even though I believe he said he wasn't exactly religious. I have no intention of trying to be offensive/belittle/make light of anyone's religion or beliefs and I apologize if it comes across that way because it is without a doubt not my intention.

Edited.

divider created by @/saradika on Tumblr.

You’ve always believed that if you truly love someone, then you keep it a secret.

You would let that feeling freeze me down to the core – to love the way a person is meant to, but it is that same love that, inevitably and irrevocably, suffocates.

You cannot satisfy that craving the same way one might satisfy a sweet tooth. Once given a taste, it seeps down into your skin, infecting both body and mind, pierces the heart and tears it wide open.

The thundering beat inside your chest cannot be silenced. The fingertips of fate trace the spider-like, lightning-strike veins that split your heart right down the middle.

A broken heart takes love like a beating.

It all comes boiling to the surface, bubbling up and out in the breath of a second.

The truth always comes out, one way or another.

Because if you don’t let the heart have its’ way, then it will tear itself right out of your chest.

***

The days were short, but the hours were long.

You spent much of your time by yourself, as this season kept Willy preoccupied. Time marched onward and the weeks themselves seemed to drag; it was nearing Christmastime and that meant very little to you in the grand scheme of things, except that you’d be seeing less and less of your lover.

Traditionally, the holidays were a time of celebration and joy, gifts and laughter shared between friends and families alike.

However, you lived a nontraditional life now, and Willy had unwittingly shown you that the life of a chocolatier was a solitary one. You knew that the busy holiday season was what pulled him away, but his lack of attentiveness made you wonder…

The only thing that kept these thoughts at bay was the way in which he looked at you when he was around.

Willy was a difficult man to read. Whether that was intentional or not, were you still trying to determine. The only dead giveaway were his eyes – startlingly intense and piercingly blue – that bore no resemblance to subtlety.

The vastness of the heavens, it seemed, were contained within those swirling galaxies. On dark nights when the cloud cover was too thick, you traced the constellations in his eyes to guide you into his morning light.

You could see yourself peeling back the layers of his heart to get to the source of how he truly felt.

Deflect from it all he might – “I’m a trifle deaf in this ear. Speak a little louder next time–” you saw right through him and sometimes that only made him steer clear of you for longer.

It wasn’t that he did not care for you; it was quite the opposite. Perhaps the extent to which he cared was a bit overwhelming for him at times. He immersed himself in his work during these times, else his mind inevitably carried him to places he would rather not visit.

Willy Wonka’s mind was not a place any person, sometimes even himself, should ever go without a guide or a distinct way back.

Though anyone with half a brain could tell that the amazing chocolatier was a troubled man on occasion, his true nature shone through in his creations. Something about this season’s batch of chocolate was a touch sweeter than ones previous. It would go undetected by those who did not have a refined palate, but like the saying goes, a true artist would put their blood, sweat and tears into their work and Willy Wonka was a mastermind.

He knew exactly what he was doing and what he meant to convey, if only between himself and one other: the world’s most famous chocolatier was in love.

***

You sat on the plush sofa in the personal wing of the factory, a book in one hand and a mug of hot chocolate in the other. You were nestled beneath a thick-knit, purple blanket as you read and waited on Willy to return to your den for the night.

You saw less and less of him the closer it got to the holidays, but such was the nature of his business. Christmastime was one of the busiest seasons and the one in which he made most of his money (the second being Valentine’s Day.) People bought exorbitant amounts of candies and chocolate during the holidays and so Willy was forced to expedite production (though never sacrificing quality) and work long, difficult hours preparing new and exciting treats for the public. In fact, it was no well-kept secret that Willy Wonka unveiled his newest creations around this time of year and that very news was plastered in every newspaper, magazine and bulletin across the world as people anticipated the exciting, brand-new sweets there would be to try.

You knew the excitement and rush of the season fed into Willy’s own excitement over his work. He was thrilled to be working on new ideas and expressing himself through his creativity and imagination. It meant the world to him and so you did your best to stay out of the way. You did not want to make the situation about you and, after all, he always made it up to you.

He was aware that his absence bothered you and he tried not to think about the fact that he may or may not be doing irreparable damage to your relationship.

Not every difficult time or situation was an attack against you. It wasn’t personal, nor was it anyone’s explicit fault. Willy had a factory to run, Oompa-Loompas to manage and ideas to manifest into reality. Sometimes, your relationship would take a backseat and if you were serious about being with him, then you would have to be alright with that and you were, although that did not mean that it didn’t hurt from time to time.

It would have been nice to relax and enjoy the season with your lover without his work getting in the way. You would have loved to curl up with him, sitting at opposite ends of the couch and enjoying lots of hot chocolate and hours of warm conversation. If you had your pick, you’d gladly have him here with you now, trading the book in your hands for his warm body, his fingers linked perfectly into the spaces between yours.

You reasoned that this was just how things would have to be for now. No sense in adding more pressure on him by complaining. He was aware of how you felt, but sadly there was nothing to be done about it. You never would have dreamed of asking him to pick between his work and you. That would not have been fair or right. You could handle this, for now, but deep down you missed him terribly.

Even if you chose to spend time with him inside the factory part of the building, he would be working the whole time. There simply was no time for much of anything else. He did like when you would drop by because you were his faithful little taste-tester. Better to try it out on you before selling it to the masses – that would seem cruel, knowing that his candies have had certain negative effects on people in the past, but rest assured, Willy had never given you anything that might harm you.

Any candy which made its way to you had been tested and re-tested to perfection before it ever passed between your lips.

He wanted feedback on his candy before it left the factory and you were more than happy to offer it to him, to which he was enthusiastically grateful. The only problem was, true to inventor fashion, he asked for feedback on everything. He wanted your opinion and was asking for it increasingly often these days. When you didn’t show up to the inventing room on certain days, he’d bring a whole box back to your shared living space and eagerly watch you with anticipation of your positive remarks as you were asked to try every piece.

He was always so grateful to you for that and, honestly, you didn’t mind. You liked candy and chocolate, so there was no reason you couldn’t afford him this act of kindness.

The only thing you really felt like you were missing was him and it plagued your mind most often while you were alone, which was of course very often. You kept yourself busy and occupied your thoughts with other things as much as you were able, but when you settled in for the night, your loneliness crept in and took up the space beside you that would have otherwise been occupied by your beloved chocolatier.

You didn’t mind your alone time, but too much of it was not ideal.

Too much of a good thing came with a price and now it seemed you were paying it with interest.

The sound of a door opening and shutting pulled you from your thoughts. You glanced down at your book to realize you’d just had it propped open against your knees this whole time and hadn’t read a bit. You marked your place and closed it with a huff, setting it down on the end table beside you, your mug of half-drank cocoa with it.

A quick glance at the clock hanging on the wall – thank God he hadn’t cut that one in half – showed that it was ten minutes after midnight.

It did not come as a surprise that Willy was so late. It was only your wildest guess as to what he had been working on, but that point was moot. You did not really care what he was working on.

That thought seemed harsh and you frowned; no, you were adamantly against resenting him for his work. That path was one you would not let yourself go down, a trap of codependence, you told yourself, but why couldn’t he just be a little more present with you? Surely it wasn’t too much to ask.

Perhaps you would ask.

It would make the most sense to be upfront with him about how you were feeling and to be as direct as possible.

You did not move from the couch. You waited on Willy to come and find you, unlike the many days and nights when you might have greeted him at the door.

Several quiet moments passed between yourself and your thoughts before Willy entered the room. He had shed his purple coat at the door, as well as his hat and cane, “there you are, my dear,” his gentle tone made your stomach clench as warmth pooled in your abdomen. Even troubled with doubts, you were still delighted to see him.

You watched as he approached and dropped himself on the opposite end of the couch. He nudged your knee with his, silently asking for a bit more space which you politely gave, “I would have been back sooner, but I’ve been so busy, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

“Yes, it is that time of year,” you replied coolly. You didn’t want to jump into the meat of the discussion too soon, otherwise he might take offense where there was none.

He seemed in a good enough mood that perhaps this would be the perfect time to strike.

“Yes, my dear, it’s the holiday season which does wonders for my business and I couldn’t be happier.”

His pride in the work he was doing warmed your heart. You listened to him for a while as he recounted what he had been working on that day.

He cared so much and spoke so passionately, yet your mind began to wander.

“Is everything alright, my dear?”

His tender voice captured your attention and you blinked slowly, “yes, I’m fine. But, there is something I would like to talk to you about.”

His lips hitched into a faint smile, then flattened into a serious line. It bothered you, not being able to read his face.

“There is? Well, you know that you can always talk to me about anything on your mind.”

You didn’t want to overwhelm him, not when he was already so fully immersed within his work. He needed time and space to focus. He did not need you hindering his creative flow by hanging all over him and demanding more attention. He already gave so much; how could you even dare to think that he owed you more?

“I know you’re busy this time of year, but do you think it would be possible for us to spend a little more time together?” My voice cracked as I added, “I…really miss you, Willy.”

You hadn’t meant to speak with words that were laced with such pain, but in fairness you did miss him terribly. By the time he made his way to you most nights, you were already in bed or heading there and in the mornings before you’d woken up, he would be gone. It bothered you to not see him and you wanted him to hear it. He needed to know the truth if you meant to be honest with him, you only hoped he’d be able to understand that you didn’t blame him.

Conversations like this always made you second guess yourself.

By this point, you realized that he had not responded. He was probably just thinking about what he would say, but usually it didn’t take him this long to reply.

“Willy?” you gently urged him, reaching out to place your hand on his arm.

Whenever he felt the gentle graze of your fingertips against the fabric of his shirt, he glanced down, admiring the tender touch with a wistful smile on his face before he looked up at you and the emotion held inside of those ice-blue eyes was almost enough to send you over the edge and into uncontrollable sobs of relief.

You felt the tension in your shoulders beginning to dissipate. Good, he felt the same way.

He was still staring at you like there was something more on his mind. That was the way things were with Wonka and you’d be lying to yourself if you hadn’t thought on more than one occasion that it’s a good thing you weren’t a mind reader because there were things that went on inside his head that should stay there. It was better that you didn’t try to trace his Machiavellian ways or make sense of the enigmatic man who so frequently surprised you with small glimpses into how he really thought and viewed the world. It was fun getting to know who he was, but the true wonderment was in not knowing him at all.

He tested your mind and all your senses, but never pushed your boundaries. He could knock you off your stride in seconds, then act as if nothing had happened. You were playing his little chess game and he was already three or more moves ahead. It had only been a matter of time before you had fallen into his hands like this.

Things were as they were because Wonka wanted them to be. His quips and wisecracks often went over people’s heads, especially because of how well-versed he was in literature and culture. He could make the whole world fall in love with him at once, then forget him as soon as they were no longer in his presence, but you believed the world adored him much more than he liked to think it did.

“I didn’t say anything sooner because I didn’t want it to seem like I was being insensitive, since I know you’re not intentionally ignoring me.”

This statement made him smile for some reason, “where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear; where little fears grow great, great love grows there.” (William Shakespeare, Hamlet.)

At first, you didn’t know what to say. You had a bit of trouble discerning what he meant sometimes, missing the larger picture for deciding why he chose a specific quote at a specific time.

Seeming to read your thoughts, he let out a polite chuckle, “This is to say, even in love do the smallest doubts scare you, but when you are afraid of such little things, you are still in love, too.”

His explanation seemed to help, if only for a second.

It was true that you had your doubts, but those doubts only stemmed from love. That fear which grew inside of you had taken root, but when enough time had passed, it was the love which had bloomed from it.

Both the fear and love would come with a connection as strong as this one.

In the beginning, Willy had never dreamed of having a romantic partner. His solitary lifestyle simply lacked the means necessary to cultivate a long-term relationship. He had never desired romance or human connection of any kind. He had his factory and the Oompa-Loompas to look after; he was stretched thin as it was.

It was with sickening rapture that he sought the reason for why his heart seemed so content within your hands. He had to know the true meaning behind what he felt, even if he had to wade out in to the wild, dark depths up to his neck. He was barely treading water, sinking still, feet kicking desperately and hands reaching, clawing for purchase but there was nothing for him to grab onto. No way to steady himself as his soul careened toward what he had been running from for so long, a runaway train on the track towards trust and away from self-preservation.

At first, you wanted to be the one in control. You had your fair share of demons and setting the pace for the relationship yourself was very important to you, but neither of you wanted to go too far too fast.

You became acclimated to his world quite quickly.

You just seemed to fit right in and, with time, Wonka found himself closer to you than he had ever been with another person.

The two of you had been together for quite some time now and the red string of fate binding your hearts together was pulled taut.

It seemed that you both knew you were in the right hands and the love that grew here was stronger than any fears or doubts which gripped you.

“What scares me the most is that you’re pulling away from me,” you confessed to him, and that revelation made his eyes widen perceptibly, “sometimes I think you don’t even realize that you’re doing it.”

The conversation had shifted and Wonka realized that you were no longer just discussing his absence in light of the holidays. There was deeper emotion and meaning laced within what you were saying to him now.

He was used to being alone, as were you. The only difference was that while you had never lost hope that the right person might come along, he had done everything he could to close himself off. His heart was a precious thing and that was what the world had been after. Yes, he had closed his factory because of theft, but he put his whole heart into his work and, if anyone were to steal his heart, then there would be nothing left for the one whom it belonged to.

He made sure he guarded his heart all these years, even if he didn’t know the reason for it. It was easier to deny the very fact that love was something every person desires, even ones who have become so layered and complex that it would be difficult to imagine what a true love might look like for them.

Wonka was not afraid of anything.

However, if one thing made him apprehensive it was the idea of anyone finding him out.

Not that there was any chance of that; no one was able to think quite like him. But if anyone came close, that meant he’d cling to them forever, holding on for dear love.

His gaze shifted down to your hands that were folded in your lap and reached for one. Long, delicate fingers gently wrapping around your right hand as he brought it to his mouth.

A kiss for each finger, you counted, one two three four five…

Then, his lips made contact with your inner wrist. The sudden and unexpected brush of lips against your sensitive skin made your breath hitch.

“I promise to be more attentive,” he whispered on your skin, his hot breath tickling the inner area of your wrist, “the only one pulling me anywhere is you and I am only moving forward.”

“You’ve got to go forwards to go back.”

He had believed that, in more ways than just one, in relation to his factory and to people, but there was no going back now. Even if that were an opinion, he wouldn’t have wanted to.

Within half a second, he dropped your hand and tilted his head, leaned in close and pressed his warm lips to yours in the most sensual, tender kiss your lips had ever known.

Your heart fluttered in your chest like butterfly wings beating against your ribcage, desperate to free itself and get to his. Your soul sought the kind of connection that your mouths were getting and jealousy was an understatement.

If this was his way of making it up to you, then let it be known that you wanted nothing else for Christmas this year than a clear mind and the taste of your lover left over on your cupid’s bow.

It was all electric, body and soul alight, glistening brighter than fairy lights strung up for the season.

He tasted sweeter than his own candy and you smiled into the kiss at the very thought. He ate a lot of his own sweets, if only to test the taste, and you couldn’t help but enjoy the sugared kisses, your sweet tooth craving satisfied only by his honeyed lips.

Somewhere in the haze you found the opportunity to grip handfuls of his tawny tresses, fingers digging into the soft curls that drove your heart mad with desire. You loved his hair and so infrequently did he let you touch or comb it. It was about as unruly as he was, wild, untamed and free, just like the man it belonged to.

Your gentle tugging on his hair elicited a soft grunt from him and his lips attacked yours more feverishly, taking on a more aggressive quality now that you had accepted and encouraged him.

There was no rhyme or reason for anything that occurred while you were with him, except what was happening now.

Wonka did everything on a whim. Sleeping, eating, working…no schedule, no routine, no nonsense.

“A little nonsense now and then is relished by the wisest men.”

Perhaps the most nonsensical thing that had ever happened in Wonka’s factory was your fear that he might leave you.

Strike that. Don’t reverse it.

You didn’t want anything to change. There were more twists and turns in this man’s head than there were in his factory and you had lost yourself trying to find your way out. You never left his mind, not once. Even while he worked or spent time alone, you were in his thoughts, whether it was subconscious or not.

Your own mind didn’t register your movement as you crawled closer and sought out more of his sugary sweetness which was more potent than any nectar of the gods. Your lips devoured his, tasting every inch of the same mouth that poured prose and poetry into your ear each night that you laid with him.

He hummed pleasantly against your lips. His gentle sounds teased you; so rare was it that he ever made a sound during these moments of intimacy. Oh, how you tried, and your futile attempts filled him with great satisfaction. He had more discipline than you ever imagined; living alone for so many years without the warmth of another had taught him to go without, but desperation clung to his bones and manifested through each fervent, heated kiss.

Willy wouldn’t have described himself as needy, but he appreciated physical intimacy when it occurred and sometimes it was as necessary as any other proper communication. He wanted more than a quick romp; he craved human connection. It was completely unfounded for someone like him to want to share a connection with anyone, but here he was asking for it with his mouth on yours and your reciprocation of that same need meant everything to him.

You tested the waters, grazing your teeth along his bottom lip to determine how far he might be willing to go. He didn’t stop you. His lips simply parted, allowing entry of your tongue.

The only sound he made was a little gasp, which you swallowed as your tongue delved in to taste the inside of his mouth. Your hands were still holding the sides of his head, fingers buried deep within his unruly curls.

He helped maneuver your body closer to his, unabashedly bringing you to sit on his lap. As you settled on top of him, one of his large hands moved down to the small of your back and held you firmly in place.

You could feel the heat of his hand through your shirt. You had no grasp of how long the two of you continued to kiss like that. The passage of time, though a precious thing, was unimportant in the current moment. The only thing you demanded more of was him and you would greedily take all that he had to offer you.

You were enchanted by him. He surprised you at every turn and, if it had been anyone else, you’d have questioned where you stood with them, but wasn’t that the point? The less anyone knew about Willy Wonka, the more exciting it felt to be in his presence.

It was impossible to know whether the things he revealed about himself were true or not and there was beauty in that alone. If beauty was in the eye of the beholder, then he had the upper hand here.

You did not stop to see why his hand had suddenly been removed from your back, but any questions you might’ve wished to voice were answered when you noticed him reaching for one of the top buttons on his vest.

The steady progression of events had led you here and you were too immersed within the moment to stop him, but you wouldn’t have wanted to anyway. You were entranced, enthralled, enraptured by the whole of him and his heart belonged to yours.

The wet graze of your tongue against his cupid’s bow spurred him further, lips tangled tantalizingly with yours as his fingers worked open the buttons on his vest.

The threshold had been breached.

The moment was yours for the taking, if you wanted it and you knew that you did.

Lost somewhere between drunk on lust and in love, you began to help him unbutton, starting at the bottom of his vest and continuing until your hands met in the middle of his chest. You followed this same pattern for both rows of buttons.

Coincidentally, this journey ended right above his heart, but another one was merely beginning.

Your hands were shaking with anticipation as you looked up to notice him already gazing at you lovingly. A tender smile curved his lips like a crescent moon and the sunlight bleeding out through the cracks in your soul made the stars in his eyes sparkle.

You cupped his cheek and pressed a gentle kiss onto the bridge of his nose. His arms encircled you, holding you flush against him and his shirtsleeves rode up on his forearms, exposing just a fraction of skin with a fine dusting of sand-colored hair.

You let him hold you to him as his lips attached to your neck. You imagined when he pulled back that there would be an imprint of lips, a tattoo of his love painted across your collarbone, signifying that you belonged to him alone.

You tilted your head to give him better access and he thanked you by delivering a loving nip to the column of your neck.

You hadn’t forgotten your intention.

With hands still shaking, you reached for his vest and pulled it open. His lips detached from your neck in an instant and long, elegant fingers wrapped around your wrist, effectively stopping you from undressing him.

His eyes were crystalline pools of skylight, airy and substantially quantified by the depths within them. They had a mirror-like quality and you could see yourself reflected in them as you held his gaze for a heartbeat too long.

“Only if…this is something that we both want…”

Willy’s words of brevity filled you with wonder.

“If I’m being honest with you, Willy…I don’t think I’ve ever wanted something more than I want you now.”

That single sentence melded with and fused into his soul. In a breath-to-breath admission of consent, your words had tied his tongue with cursive letters.

He breathed a sigh of relief and held within that exhale was his own consent. You had granted him permission, assuring him that you were not offering yourself out of obligation or for complacency’s sake and that thrilled him perhaps as much as the act itself would. He felt the blood rush to his groin and he moved beneath you, shifting your body weight more onto his thigh.

Willy nuzzled your cheek, dragging his nose along your soft skin. His arms had yet to unravel themselves from around you; he wanted to take his time. However, he was increasingly aware of his own sense of desperation. It had been some time since he had last gotten into bed with a lover.

Actually, the last time he had gotten into bed with anyone was with you.

Willy had a low sex drive, but on occasion it would crop up and remind him that he was, in fact, human and had needs, whether it was simple biology or heightened by the desire to connect with the one he loved.

Whenever he thought of a lover and what had previously been just some nameless face at the forefront of his mind, that vision was now you. Yours was the love he sought; your hands were the ones meant to hold his heart.

He let go of you and shrugged off his vest.

Your lips captured his once again and he imagined this was what dreams tasted like.

He went to stand up and you quickly took the hint and moved off his lap. He got up and began unbuttoning his white undershirt while you watched. He could see the fire burning in your irises, your pupils dilated with desire as you watched his delicate fingers pop open each button.

You knew better than to rush him; a treat as sweet as him was meant to be savored.

You took this opportunity to slip your own shirt off your body. With your skin exposed, his eyes traveled across your midsection and his fingers hesitated, fumbling the button he was on. His breath hitched and you swore you heard him whisper the word “beautiful” as he gazed upon you.

Once he had recovered, the swiftness with which he finished removing his undershirt made your head spin. In his haste, he had forgotten to remove his bow tie and unbutton his sleeve cuffs, which made you giggle. He seemed flustered, his cheeks reddening once he realized, and perhaps this was the first time you had ever witnessed him with a blush on his cheeks.

You reached out to help him and a soft chuckle dripped from his lips like maple syrup, “It would appear I’ve gotten a bit ahead of myself, my dear.”

You chuckled as well as his bow tie and undershirt were removed, “well, I’ll take it as a compliment…that you seem so eager to have me.”

Your words were spoken as if in jest, but his response was anything but.

“Doubt truth to be a liar; but never doubt that I love,” he quoted, his smooth baritone steeping you in the tea of his desire. (William Shakespeare, Hamlet.)

It was enough to quiet your mind and when he said it, you felt your entire world get a little smaller. Your heightened senses had inflated your soul and carried you to the clouds. You were a runaway balloon stuck in a tree and his words were the hand that enclosed around your string. You had seen vast lands and known love in its many forms, but never until this moment had you felt so much in the presence of one.

His heart knew yours better than it knew itself and the cracks left by heartbreak were filled in by your endless love for each other.

You moved in to kiss him again and his hands cupped your warm cheeks. His breath tasted as sweet as the chocolate he made, which only made sense because of how often you saw him sampling it. He kept a bit in his coat that he’d pull out and nibble upon and often would you go sifting through his pockets for little treasures and treats that he had left over. Sometimes you found such delights that it had to have been no accident that they had been left behind. No, he knew your guilty pleasure was his chocolate and he made sure to satisfy your cravings, both for chocolate and for him, as often as possible.

Your tongue slipped inside his mouth and he finally graced your ears with a very delicate moan.

His hands moved down the length of your arms to finally grab your hips. He pulled you in, your pelvis against his, and you could feel the hard press of his bulge against your thigh.

While you kissed, he began to walk you backwards toward your shared bedroom.

You could not have torn your lips apart to look where you were going even if you wanted to.

You trusted him to get you there safely, perhaps more than you had ever trusted another person or at least you hadn’t trusted anyone this deeply in a very long time. Too many others had taken a hammer to your jawbreaker heart and smashed it to more manageably sized pieces, but once broken, it could never be put back together without its’ once-pristine surface now marred with jagged cracks.

At least the breakage let the light of your soul pour out into his hands…

Willy was stained by your brokenness, his heart bruised the color of your trauma.

He had been burned before, broken in a very real way, and therefore it was never a question of if you would trust him, but how much and when. He knew how long it could take a person to truly open up if they wanted to, but for you, he was willing to wait an eternity and then some.

Time stood still and Willy had the presence of mind to remember how it felt to cradle your body to his when the only things that cemented your souls was an equal share of trust and love for one another and the mutual decision to take just one more chance.

You sighed with relief when the backs of your knees connected with the mattress.

Willy didn’t push you or press for more. His lips left yours in favor of your neck and several chaste yet sweet kisses were left along your collar bone as if his lips were asking for permission without the accompaniment of words.

In between you, you reached for his belt.

He felt your fingers wrap around the waistband of his trousers and a gentle smirk crossed his features, “after something, are we?”

His coy response made the tips of your ears get hot and you huffed, “well, it isn’t my fault that I’ve gone and gotten all excited…”

“I hope you’re not implying that it’s mine,” he replied as his smirk widened.

“I wasn’t implying anything,” your time spent with him had sharpened your wit, “I’m saying it.”

His eyes shared in your mirth, twinkling with laughter at your response. He wrapped an arm around your lower back and pulled you in. With his cheek to yours, lips near your ear, he whispered, “shall we make use of your excitement, then, dear?”

You felt a shudder run down your spine as he spoke to you, the dulcet undertones of his honeyed voice pierced you like a knife through the delicate flesh of an orange. You wanted to sink your fingers into his heart and peel it apart to devour the pieces, sustaining yourself on his love.

You nodded and he deemed it appropriate to continue. He gently pushed your hands from his belt and took on the task himself. He pulled it from the loops and laid it on the chair nearest to him.

When he turned back to you, you were already removing your pants. He smiled to himself, stopping in his tracks to admire you as you undressed. He almost wanted to help you, but held himself back. Mutual trust came at a price and he would not want to overstep any unspoken boundaries. You had not explicitly told him not to help, but you hadn’t told him to do it either and so he decided it was best to let you indicate what you wanted from him and how comfortable you were with the situation.

Neither you nor he were particularly trusting individuals. Your experiences with people who took advantage of others made you wary and skeptical, through no fault of your own. Maturity and wisdom came with age and while you had both grown and learned, you had built walls around yourselves both figuratively and literally, in Wonka’s case, to guard your hearts and protect them.

Now, you were bearing your souls to each other.

It was an unlikely thing, but you were both ready. You had known Wonka for a long time now and you had no doubt that you and he were meant to be in each other’s lives. There was a reason that you were here. Even though you might have needed a bit of reassurance from time to time, it was never because you truly thought he might leave you. Giving word to that unreasonable fear set you free, because in your heart of hearts you realized that you were not afraid at all.

You were lonely.

You had forced it down for years, but acknowledging it now was cathartic, because never again would you find yourself isolated like you had so many years before.

Willy was no stranger to isolation either. Though he had reasons other than your own, he empathized.

It was difficult, at times, for the two of you to find a rhythm. Both of you had been alone for so long that it took time to become acclimated to sharing your lives with each other, but in this moment you both knew that there was no person you would each rather share a life with than each other.

Willy was never at risk of pulling away. He was simply learning how to love you.

As soon as you pushed off your pants and stepped out of them, he was kissing you again. In a flourish of limbs and bare skin, you fell backwards onto the mattress with him. His hot lips descended over yours as his fingers linked into the spaces between your own. In all ways except for one, your two bodies were unified and, if either of you could help it, that would soon be remedied.

The mattress dipped and shifted beneath your shared weight as Willy crawled on top of you. You held his hands for as long as you were capable of doing before you needed to feel him more solidly at your fingertips. You dropped his hand, grabbed his shoulder and dug in your nails to hear him hiss into your ear and nip at your neck.

He couldn’t even finish undressing because you demanded every ounce of his attention.

Your spirits were engaged in this battle of carnality and you had consumed him, corrupted his mind and possessed him body and soul, but all’s fair in love and war, both of which you had waged fervently on his senses.

At risk of ruining the moment, he pulled away and got up to finish removing his trousers. Your chest heaved as you took a moment to catch your breath, propping yourself up on one arm.

“And here I thought…we were just getting to the good part,” I quipped. A teasing smile bloomed on my face as he turned to look down at me.

“And I thought you liked my kisses,” He replied without missing a beat.

His lopsided grin made you giggle, but the sound of his zipper being pulled down tore your attention away from the witty banter. The fire of fierce need had begun to burn bright inside your belly once again after being extinguished to mere embers only seconds ago.

You watched him kick off his trousers and make no move to pick them up.

He moved back down onto the bed and leaned into you. You met him halfway and pecked a chaste kiss onto his lips. Your bodies fit together like two immaculately chiseled sculptures whose delicate features appeared to be made of something much softer than stone.

You knew what he wanted from you now and you felt goosebumps rising on your flesh as you anticipated his caress.

He cupped your head, holding you to him as he lowered you back against the pillows. He liked to take charge of this part himself and you let him, despite the anxiety you felt at relinquishing control over yourself. You didn’t like feeling out of control, especially of your body and Willy knew this. He tried his best to make you feel comfortable and safe, never moving forward without verbal consent.

“Shall I touch you, dear?”

You reflected on his question before you nodded, swallowing thickly before you could make a sound, “yes.”

You knew that he would check in with you frequently to make certain you still wished to continue.

With your consent, his fingertips grazed the length of your arms. His warm touch sent pleasant shivers through you and you fought the urge to arch into him. He had a way of making you feel everything he wanted you to feel with just one touch. It was like magic, the control he had over your body and sometimes you wondered if his creative abilities branched into other realms as well.

His hands slid down your sides, massaging your warm skin and admiring your supple curves, the angles and indentations of your hips. Before he traveled lower, Willy wanted to devote some appreciation to the rest of your body first. His hands moved to your back, working underneath you to swiftly unclip your bra. He had a way of doing things so fast that you barely had time to register what he was doing before it was done. Perhaps it didn’t seem possible, but impossibility did not exist where Willy Wonka came from; if there was a way to do the impossible, he had already figured it out and told no one.

With your unclasped bra no longer pulled taut, he delicately pushed the straps off your shoulders and plucked the hindersome piece of fabric away from your chest. It dropped unceremoniously to the floor and his blue eyes glittered with mischief when he looked upon your exposed breasts.

You wanted to cover them, but he held your arms at your sides. True to the creative genius he was, he had to admire beauty where and when he saw it and you were a masterpiece. His tight smile had relaxed as he gazed down at you beneath him and he practically cooed with appreciation for your form.

“You’re very beautiful,” he whispered heatedly, like it was almost difficult for him to get the words out. He was overwhelmed with all his attention focused on the body before him.

You wanted to thank him for the compliment, but all that came out was a soft squeak.

He chuckled at your little sound and bent his head. He placed a firm kiss on your left breast and you sighed in pleasure at the gentle touch of his plush lips on your pillowy skin. His lips traced the curves of your breasts before encircling one of your nipples, suckling lightly as if it were a piece of candy.

You mewled and arched into his mouth, desiring more from him and as quickly as possible, but Willy liked to take his time with you. He never left you unsatisfied, but you could expect nothing to be fast paced.

His fingers wrapped around your hips to hold you in place as he moved to your other breast and did the same thing. His hot tongue teased your candy pieces to hardness and he hummed his appreciation, sending waves of pleasure down to your core.

You squirmed in his grasp and whimpered pathetically, “please, Willy,” you begged him, “I want you now.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll have me, dear,” he reassured you, his thumbs rubbing placatingly against your hips, “when I’m ready for you to.”

His teasing remark made you huff in irritation until his fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your cotton panties and paused you in your tracks.

You whined as his fingers barely breached the fabric barrier before he removed them. His hands moved to your inner thighs and spread your legs apart for him to nestle in between them.

All you could do was watch as he leaned closer and pressed a kiss to your navel, just below your belly button. His kisses traveled lower and lower down your pelvis to your pubic bone and finally to your core. You writhed in pleasure when his mouth found its way to where you wanted it, but your panties were still in the way and you groaned with frustration.

Heat emanated from your core due to your arousal and the crotch of your panties were damp with your wetness.

Your head dropped back against the pillow as he used the tip of his nose to brush lightly against your clit through your panties.

You were so pliant to his will and responsive to his touch that he almost felt powerful. If it had been anyone other than him, he would have, but all he felt in this moment was an overwhelming feeling of love. The fact that he could give you a comfortable experience of vulnerability and pleasure perhaps did enflame his ego a bit, but he loved you even more for it. To see you enjoying yourself because of him was almost too much for him to handle and he could feel his cock swell to attention.

He placed a couple of open-mouthed kisses to the crotch of your panties before he dragged them down your legs. He would have liked to tease you more, but he was already beginning to lose patience and he didn’t want to rush through too quickly.

With your panties removed, he could admire your glistening folds and the sweet juices that had dribbled out of you. His mouth watered as he delved in for a taste, his tongue tentatively flickering against your opening.

You let out a cry and bucked your hips, desperate for him to fill you. You needed friction and fullness to achieve release and Willy knew you couldn’t get either of those things without his compliance. He smirked at that and lowered his head between your thighs.

Your hot core pulsed as more of your honey leaked onto his tongue. He moaned in satisfaction, savoring the taste of your sweetness and the delicious sounds you were making for him. He had never tasted anything this sweet except for his chocolate and if he could have only one of those two things right now he would have picked you without a second thought.

It was almost too much for him to pull his mouth away, but he knew that he must if he were to indulge in the ultimate act of pleasure with you. You both wanted that more than you wanted air to breathe. A greater craving than candy, your existing love and soul connection a stronger aphrodisiac than chocolate.

With a final flick of his tongue against your clit, he dragged his mouth off you. You whimpered at the loss, but in the back of your lust-flavored cotton candy mind you knew that your shared night of pleasure was just beginning.

He got off the bed again and opened the nightstand drawer. He withdrew a small tinfoil packet and a small clear bottle of lubricant.

You were still sprawled out on the mattress, your hair a halo around your head. The darkened room made it difficult to see what he was doing, but your eyes had adjusted enough for you to see movement.

You felt eyes on you and before you glanced up from the object he was holding, his voice broke the silence, “are you comfortable continuing?”

Driven by lust and lover’s greed, you nodded your consent. Willy did not respond at first, waiting on your actual acknowledgement and proper agreement. Your voice was shaky as you replied to him, but you knew what you wanted and were certain in your response, “yes. I want this. I want you, Willy.”

The sincerity in your voice convinced him and he tore open the condom wrapper.

Excitement thrilled you and coursed through your veins, carried into your heart by blood. Your body was singing with sensation as you wanted nothing more than his solid body atop you, his hard length buried in your tight heat.

You watched him with barely-concealed enthusiasm – well, perhaps the only concealment was from the darkness in the bedroom – as he took off his underwear and rolled the condom on. He then squirted a generous amount of lube onto his fingers and coated his cock.

You could hear him jerking himself off and the obscenely slick sounds from the generous amount of lube. He had yet to give himself any physical stimulation up until this point and you were eager to repay the favor.

In the dark, your reached for him and he came to you, ready to meld together and fill you full of himself.

He positioned himself on top and guided your legs around his hips. He propped himself up with one forearm flat against the mattress so that he wouldn’t rest his entire body weight on you and the other guided his condom-covered tip to your entrance.

He gave your forehead a tender kiss as he pressed in. Your lips parted at your sharp intake of breath and your muscles tightened and seized around him. Willy kissed your face, calming you and keeping you still and relaxed until he bottomed out.

He nuzzled against your cheek and moved his free arm behind you to cradle your head.

You tilted your head back and captured his lips. The two of you kissed lazily for several moments as your bodies adjusted to one another. Your walls twitched around his cock, sending jolts of electricity down to his toes, into the pit of his stomach and behind his eyes. Everything felt fuzzy and seemed out of focus except for you.

The one thing that was clear to him was his love for you and the appreciation he had for you being a part of his life. If he could not trust a single soul with his legacy, he knew that he could trust you with himself and that was more than enough.

For once, nothing made you question Willy Wonka; his intentions were clear.

Your fears were just that: fear. It was irrational and based on nothing of consequence. However, the very fact that you were afraid let you and he both know how much you cared.

You would never take Willy, and he would never take you, for granted.

He would reassure you that though he was not used to sharing his world with another, that you were his world now and you would share in every aspect with him and reap the rewards of a unique and whimsical life with perhaps the greatest chocolatier who ever lived.

Take out all the fantasy and spectacle and you were left with only love and imagination.

All these people thought the most fantastical thing about Willy Wonka were his creations, but what took your breath away, and had since the beginning, was the man behind those creations.

You had fallen in love with him as much as you had with his brain and his intellect, his body, his soul. You wanted to dip your fingers into him like if he were made of melted chocolate. You would lick the essence of his existence off your fingertips to taste his candy-coated soul and sugared thoughts. There were not many candies or chocolates of the Wonka brand that you hadn’t tried, but none were sweeter than the man himself.

If he existed only in your mind, then your mind was alive with the thought of him.

All too soon, your thoughts abandoned you as you felt him begin to move.

He slowly pulled out, angled his hips and pushed back in.

The sudden movement jarred your body and you clung to him tighter.

As he began to set a pace, you rolled your hips down onto him each time that he pushed in. This seemed to please him, witnessing you thrusting with him, your bodies moving in unison toward a shared release and reciprocation of pleasure.

He grunted softly in your ear with the effort of thrusting into you. His soft curls tickled your cheek and you bit back a giggle. A particularly rough thrust ripped the sound from your throat and you laughed aloud.

His brows furrowed in amusement at your laughter, but he grinned with you nonetheless.

His thrusts became harsher, deepening as you adjusted and conformed to the rhythm and pace he set that was creating a delicious friction between your legs. You moaned shamelessly into his ear and he thrusted harder, encouraged by the sinful sounds you were making.

Willy kissed you, his lips feverishly moved against yours as he held you in his embrace and your skin blazed with red hot fervor. A thin sheen of sweat clung to your bodies and you could feel the heat rolled off him in waves. Sweat beaded on his upper lip, but it didn’t bother you as you kissed him harder, demanding more intensity out of your shared intimacy. Your core pulsed, muscles gripping and clenching tightly around his cock.

Your moans began to take on a higher pitch the closer you got to your release. Willy could tell that you were close now and he was eager to send you over the edge. Sex was, at least for him, about mutual enjoyment and gratification, not domination, exploitation or manipulation. It was about individuals who loved each other enough to put aside their individuality and become one, just for a moment of bliss.

His forehead pressed against yours as he thrusted into you harder than before, his pace becoming erratic the closer he came to his own release.

As he panted, you felt his breath fan across your face and he smelled of chocolate.

You balanced on the edge of oblivion as your feverish coupling would soon send you into orgasm.

After a few more hard thrusts, Willy slipped a hand between your legs and gently rubbed your clit. Your release seized you, your body shaking violently with hurricane force winds of equal parts pleasure and zest. It was as if the air had been knocked out of you and you were falling down into his waiting arms. Ecstasy radiated from your core, carried in waves throughout your body.

You were alone with your pleasure, waiting on your lover to join you in the afterglow.

You cried out his name as he thrusted into you through your orgasm. He lasted several moments after you came before he released, filling the condom with several hot bursts of his seed.

He had just enough strength left in his body to pull out and collapse beside you. His harsh panting soon turned to gentle sighs as his heartrate decreased and his body cooled. His strawberry blonde curls were plastered to his forehead with sweat and were sticking out at wild angles except for the top which was always a bit flattened from the way he wore his hat.

You reached out and petted his frizzy hair, your fingers delicately massaging his scalp. He let out a quiet little moan and you smiled at him.

With a deep inhale, he sat up and peeled the sticky condom off his softening prick. He tied it up and tossed it in the wastebin, then snatched his underwear off the ground. He picked yours up as well and handed them to you for you to slip on.

You got off the bed and put your panties back on, then crossed the room to the bathroom. A few moments later, when you returned after you had cleaned yourself up, you found him lying in bed waiting for you.

He smiled at you as you approached and extended an arm out to let you curl into his side as you got back on the bed with him. He already had a blanket laid out to pull across your nude bodies so that you could cuddle in modesty and without getting a chill.

He looked down to watch you settle in and you met his gaze for a moment, appreciating his features. His gorgeous blue eyes were like pools of galaxy speckled with stars. His aquiline nose, which most people thought was too big for his face, looked proportionate in your opinion and beautiful just the same. He had the softest features of any man you had ever seen, slightly chubby cheeks, a round face and curved jawline. He was exquisite in every sense of the word and just looking at him made you fall more deeply in love.

As attractive as he was to you, his personality spoke to yours in a language only the two of you spoke fluently.

His appreciation for literature and culture was unique and inspiring and, because it tied in with your own, you learned a lot from each other. His quick wit and casual snide remarks that often passed over other people’s heads made you laugh as though you were enjoying your own little joke with each other.

During your private appreciation for this man, you concluded that you had no reason to ever think he might be pulling away from you.

In surreal Willy Wonka fashion, he seemed to read your thoughts as he finally spoke, “I’d like to see you in the Inventing Room with me tomorrow. I want you to be as involved with the holiday busy season as I am.”

He addressed your insecurities by offering a solution to the problem and your heart felt a bit lighter. He wanted you to be involved in his work so that you didn’t feel so isolated or lonely. He had promised to be more attentive and he intended to do just that, but you could offer him aid and visit him while he worked. True love was buoyed by compromise; you’d see to it that you did your part to keep your relationship strong.

“Forgive me for not being as attentive as I should be,” he continued, “I’ve been so busy, not to excuse myself.”

“I understand,” you replied.

He seemed surprised for a moment, as if he half-expected you to still be upset, “and it isn’t entirely your fault. I should come around more if I’m missing you. We’ll find a solution. We have time.” Willy put his arm around your shoulder and pulled you close so he could kiss your head, “time is a precious thing, my dear. Never waste it.”

Between his words, you heard what he was not saying.

And while he had a point, what you did have was now.

You could agree just to exist for a moment, sharing in the silence of the universe and listening to nothing but your dreams and the sounds of your hearts.

You would fall into each other the same way that you fell in love: accidentally and achingly slow.

One day you would both look up and see how far you had come, but for now, you still had a way to go.

You knew his heart belonged to yours and that was enough to keep trying. Once the busy season calmed down and you had more time to focus on the two of you, you would ease into it like lovers were meant to, but right now you had an obligation to yourselves not to let the fear of failure drive you apart.

It might seem fatalistic to ruin a relationship before it had run its course, but you’d seen it happen and the last thing you wanted was for that to be yours.

You knew deep down that it wouldn’t happen.

Your love was as strong as your imaginations were wild and no mind would ever dare dream the two of you apart.

#willy Wonka #willy wonka and the chocolate factory #willy wonka 1971 #wilder!wonka #willy wonka x reader #willy wonka imagine #willy wonka and the chocolate factory imagine #gene wilder #biblio :: 📖

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asrichin · 2 months ago

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cw : suicidal behavior/thoughts. suicidal! Reader. Avoidant, distant! Reader. Reader death. ED (eating disorder). Overall, heavy on mental health issues. :)

Read at your own risk!

As days starting to pass by, you wonder, what is the will to even live? You're already dead a long ago,then what is the point to keep surviving? It's pointless.

Eating feels like a chore, to supply at least energy, so you wouldn't die out of hunger (or you're basically force to eat by him). Even worse, Akaashi makes sure to keep you on track, to keep you alive. The fact you're barely gives your needs to the least requirements are killing him (mentally and physically).

Besides, he'll leave at some point,right?

“y/n, you have to eat this,please.” ... “y/n.”

Akaashi's plead fell on deaf ears. He sat on the edge of your bed, with the bowl of porridge in his hands, trying to feed you. Since it what he manages to get you to eat most of the time, and it's simple. “i made it with pure love and effort,” ... “you know you need nutrients, to survive,right?” he asked, looking at you. Eyes pleading for you to please, at least to meet the minimum requirements.

a low grumble, as you shifted yourself and looked at him. Those eyebags. It hurts him to the core of his heart. “..do you want me to put it on the table..or?” Akaashi spoke, still looking at you with a small, concerned smile. And you nodded, reciprocate his smile with yours. He hates that smile, it was genuine, but filled with how much you had gone through.

“i will eat it later.” Liar.

“promise?”

“..pinky promise.”

Akaashi just stared at you. Liar. You never really eat on time, which he hated that so,so much. Even if you assures him you'll eat it later, it's a white lie.

He tries, really. To believe every words you spit out,But it's unbelievable. Although, at least, you promised.

“eat it, alright?” he stood up, placing the bowl on the nightstand with a sigh. Since when did he vowed to do this?

It's draining. He has tried everything . Everything.

But at last, it didn't work. Now what he could do?

Standing beside your grave, he wasn't that stupid to left any sign you had given. It just, he doesn't know how to help other than giving you a hand in the basics, etc. eating, hygiene. He really tried.

“you could have talk it out with me,but I guess.” sobs

“sleep peacefully,okay? I'll help you clean your apartment,y/n.” Akaashi murmured between his sobs. “here, take these flowers, as far as I could remember, it's your favorite.”

I hope you rest in peace.

“oh my god,y/n.” Akaashi mused, shaking you, trembling slightly. From the blood basically on your bare arms. It made his blood creep. Infact, you are unconscious, and that's not alright. “y/n, I swear to god, wake up. Wait—Im calling the 911!”

This time for sure, there will no answers;response from you. He wanted to cry, but he needs to stay calm, be rational. The thoughts were overwhelming.

“hello, it's 911—” when he heard from the other line of his phone, his hands were shaking badly.

“my friend is unconscious, address—‘xx’. Be quick,I beg you–” Akaashi spoke, trying to remain calm, but the panic starting to get through him.

Yeah. Maybe it's pointless.

But I'll never regret being by your side,y/n.

and I'll make sure to make you feel valuable, until my last breath—or yours. Even if I failed on that.

“hey y/n, do you want to walk with us?” Bokuto's voice rang through your ears.

“yeah,sure.” you answered with your usual smile. As you slide your bag onto your shoulder, ready to go back home.

“come on, let's go.” Akaashi, who's waiting at the classroom's door. Per usual, the trio that would walk home together whenever school is over.

Sharing giggles and shit, laughing over the smallest things. teenagers. Growing up is so scary, for Akaashi.

Afraid of changes. metathesiophobia.

maybe, he had hoped you stayed. So you,Bokuto and him could just stay as the trio.

That now has become a duo.

#akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #haikyuu akaashi #hq akaashi #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi keiji x you #akaashi keiji x gender neutral reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x gender neutral reader #hq x y/n #hq #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hq x reader #akaashi angst #suffer.#it's messy and not proofread btw #srry

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sorrelce · 10 months ago

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Phil might not be eating well, but I sure am!

<3<3<3

They are miserable and it's a miserable situation. But. There is SUCH an undercurrent of determination, stubborn will, and genuine care running through that scene.

(ooh jeez i ran out of tag space i need to be louder and move some up in the actual comments O.O i rambled oh no)

Phil's trying his best, as he do. But there's this openness he has with Missa....he's still trying to shoulder the burden alone. That's his impulse and long standing habit, and it won't break so simply. But even just the willingness to explain and let Missa in. Giving him the context he needs to step up as much as he wants and is able.

And Missa coming in with the follow through! He wants to help so badly. He's going through the entire list 'what can I do'. And it's not working out for him, not through any fault of his own. But he's doong exactly what he said he wanted to do and I am so proud and happy for them????

Look last night was amazing and funny and sweet but I'm an angst writer at heart so please take this offering

TW: vomitting, talk of food scarcity, ect

Missa wakes, and the bed is emptier than it should be. Tallulah has snuggled into his back and Chayanne has pressed into his front, and having both children cling to him makes his missing husband only the more obvious.

"Philza?" he calls, half-asleep, already getting up. "Philza, where are you?"

His ears input seconds later, and he pieces it together; careful of his children Missa stumbles out of bed, and finds one of their new lamps. He flicks it on, and now with some light he looks finally around.

And there is Philza, bent double over their small toilet and heaving into the bowl.

"Philza!" Missa is much louder this time.

He drops to his knees at Philza's side, patting his back as he looks around anything to help. His husband is trembling beneath his touch, and he's so, so scared...

"Mr Guard!" he calls, trying to get attention. "Please! Me Guard!"

A guard near the staircase looks lazily over.

"My husband's sick!" Missa nearly cries as he calls it. "Please - help?"

The guard shrugs, and turns back to the book he was reading.

Missa shrieks, and he can hear someone grumble half-asleep, telling him to shut up. Beneath his hands Philza shudders slightly, fingers trembling on the rim of the toilet, but he pushes himself back up, and leans against Missa's side.

"I'm alright," he whispers, and Missa doesn't for a minute believe him. "Sorry for scaring you, Missa; just go back to bed."

"Do you need something?" Missa ignores what he says, words quick as he worries - as he panics. "Water! I have a bottle I can get you water. Just sit there!"

It's a bit awkward to reach up to the sink and fill the bottle - once full of coffee - without dropping Philza. Missa manages it, though, and helps him to sip at it.

Philza drinks slowly, but he keeps the water down, and Missa allows his panicking heart to slow a little.

"What's wrong?" Missa asks, a little quieter now. "You're not- you're not dying, are you?"

"Just ate some bad food," Philza promises, reaching shakily up to brush at Missa's tears. "I'll be okay, mate, shhh, you don't need to worry."

Missa blinks harder, tries - fails - to stop crying.

"What do you mean the food is bad?" Missa thinks of everything in his bag. "I- You could ask me! You give me so much, I could have given you some."

Philza shakes his head, "no, before that. Before you woke up... Yesterday they didn't give us enough. Sent us into a dungeon, and I ran out, and... Well, the zombies have flesh, you know? It was all I had, so..."

"It's still hurting you tonight?" Missa frowns. "That's very sick."

"This morning, before you woke up - before breakfast they had us clean. I still didn't have any food left, and I'd thrown everything up last night, and I was fighting and the flies... Well you know the maggots we spent on the furniture...?"

Missa hates where this is going, and hugs his husband much, much tighter.

"The guard gave me more, because I'd had to eat them to make it to breakfast," Philza whispers. "If we hadn't been fighting I'd have managed, but..."

"Oh Philza..." Missa rubs Philza's sides, and thinks in horror. Since he's woken up there's always been food - an excess of it even.

"It's fine," Philza says, and it's not. "Better I eat the crap than the kids, right?"

He says it with half a laugh, and Missa - Missa /hates/ it.

He understand, he gets it, he's eaten maggots and zombie flesh and worse when he's had to, but he hates it in a way he didn't know he could hate. The prison clearly has plenty of food, so why...?

"I hoarded so much, and it still wasn't enough," Philza laughs again, and it is bitter this time. "I just... I hope tomorrow they give us enough from the start. Don't wanna try getting out of here on just maggots, you know?"

And Missa thinks of how Philza threw food at not just the children but also him as soon as they saw each other, how despite all this he was fed without a second thought; he scoops up his husband, and holds him close, and asks "bed?"

Philza looks with exhausted eyes between the bed and the toilet, "it's... probably better I stay here. If last night was anything to go by, anyway."

"I'll stay too."

It isn't even a question; prison had not been so hard on Missa, but clearly it has been on his husband.

"Mate..."

Before he can be told to get some sleep, Missa kisses Philza's forehead.

Philza sighs.

Missa hugs him.

They manage a couple of minutes of sleepy, quiet peace before Philza is reaching for the toilet again, and all Missa can do is be beside him as he suffers.

#Qsmp philza #Qsmp fanfic #Qsmp missa #Qsmp pissa #Man i was chewing the bars at the food insecurity!#Both the coffee maker being removed and the peach trees 'pruned' after phil had his mad dash through the prison #The absolute intolerance he had for his dropping health bar. The sheer shameless begging and outright crimespree.#Like. Staring. 'is this an artifact of hardcore life and how being resource less is no good V Dangerous'#Or. Is the prison giving him *very particular* anxieties. Because even a stack of gapples don't last a week if it's the only food you have-#-Personal experience with federation custody being perfectly fine with not providing enough (or any) support.#Watching him prioritize eating the maggots over higher efficiency foods he was hoarding--!#Honestly @ the time a v strategic move. But heartbreaking...#He wasn't deaf to the needs of his friends and would share some. But still zero hesitation about sticking his claws in other's pockets??#I am SO enjoying the prison streams. And?? You drop another fic too?#Specifically phil y missa content? Specifically about the consequences of phil's panic/planning around the food situation?#<3 <3 <3 #I totally forgot about the zombie flesh on top of everything.#And i am completely here for mans being very birb but not so birb that especially maggots in particular are tolerated well #The timing of missa's arrival meaning he got spared the scarcity!#Cue missa's double (unnecessary) guilt for 'not noticing' a problem he did not have info for AAA #Phil holding it together - partially because it can take time for stomach rebellion- until after the kids are tucked in.#(so they did adjust the voice proximity. But in my head that echoey quality of the prison cellblock is still extant--#--big flat stone room an all. They just got used to it and were better able to tune out unwanted noise)#(so in my mind phil's suffering absolutely got overheard by at least his immediate neighbors...)#missa despite the dramatic flailing actually keeps a pretty cool head in a crisis? Look at him problem solving-#-and growing distress as he's confronted with assumptions he took for granted. Popcorn. He's precious.#Honestly despite everything still finding this pretty fluffy and appropriate for the joyful mood.#Because how much did we want phil to be vulnerable with missa and actually leaning on him.. .#(well he's still kind of deflecting and concealing. But baby steps ig. 'no secrets' rule potentially influencing that conversation?#He was very transparent with missa once confronted)

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adalwolfgang · 1 year ago

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Could you make a little story for Castiel where he meets a young mute girl who communicates through ASL?

Castiel meeting and befriending a mute reader

warnings: Cursing, fluff, angsty (very little) A/n: I am not mute but I am familiar with people I know personally who are deaf and use sign language. Also, I have not watched supernatural in a good while so I don't remember what all powers angels have so some of these might be inaccurate from the show.

credit to @cafekitsune for the banner(s)

This was unexpected for the angel. One second, he's strolling around a town him, Sam, and Dean had stopped at to investigate a large number of murders that have been occurring to sitting on a swing set with a little girl sitting beside him in a park, making hand motions.

She was mute.

He didnt know what these hand motions meant but he was easily able to understand once he read her mind. It was as if she was saying what each meaning of the sign meant as she moved her hands and fingers without moving her lips. He could hear her voice but only in her own conscious.

"Where is your parents? Or guardian?" he asked as he tilted his head with curiosity and concern. The reminder of why he was there in the first place brought him out of his thoughts as worry soon became present on his face. It was safe for someone to be out here on their own, especially a young one at that.

A childish smile appears on your face as you quickly point over to a food truck a few feet away. Your guardian chatting with the owner, their back facing you. Castiel looks to where you were pointing before looking back over at you. The concern slowly leaving his features but not completely gone.

"You be careful when you are out of arms reach from your guardian. Understand?"

You bob your head up and down in response, giving him a thumbs up for more confirmation at his words. Castiel was still a little skeptical at the thought of whatever or whoever has been behind the killings find you and pick you off as a easy target. Many questions started appearing in his head. How would you scream for help? What if no one seen you get taken? What if you cant free yourself from their grasp?

You could see his brows furrow as his eyes drifting toward the dirt in thought. Whatever was on this strange man's mind must've been big as lines formed on his forehead and the corner of his eyes crinkled slightly. You place a hand on the trench coat he adored, even though it was summer time. You started rubbing the fabric between your fingertips, the action making Castiel look down at your hand and then at your face. You suddenly stop the action, staring into his deep colored eyes as well. You thought he had very beautiful eyes. This made a soft smile form on his lips which made your eyes widen. You didnt say that aloud did you? No, that's impossible. Unless?

'Are you a angel?' you signed, this time slower.

The smile on Castiel's face grows as he slowly nods his head, raising his index finger and putting in to his lips as if you both were sharing a secret. Before you could react, your name was shouted. You spun your head around to see your guardian walking over toward you, a hotdog wrapped in tinfoil in each hand. When they finally get close enough you sign,

'I made a friend'

"oh really?" they look around the park curiously before back down at you.

"Where is this friend of yours?"

You turn around expecting to see the man in the trench coat, but he wasn't there. The empty swing was slowly rocking back and forth but no one was there. A wave of confusion and sadness washed over you as your guardian just shrugged it off, taking a seat on the swing the stranger had been, handing you a hotdog.

Back at the bunker, Castiel was sitting in one of the many chairs in the library with his chin propped up on his hand. His back was slumped as he sat in thought. He wanted to protect you. He wanted to be there for you when you needed him. He wanted to be your friend. Dean and Sam finally came back, walking down the stairs and quickly spotting the angel they had been trying to contact.

"Hey man, where the hell did you go? You just wandered off and left us!" Dean was quick to jump on the angels case but he wasn't in the mood to hear any of it and quickly disappeared.

"The hell was that all about?" Castiel left the brothers both confused and concerned.

#castiel #spn x you #spn x reader #spn castiel #castiel x reader #supernatural x you #supernatural x reader #supernatural #castiel winchester #angel x reader #fallen angel x reader #mute!reader #mute reader

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shadowofahope · 2 years ago

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Christmas/holiday prompt #1 with Jin please! 💙

Christmas Miracle

Pairing: Jin!roommate x reader roommate Premise: Stuck in your apartment due to the rapidly approaching storm, it would take a Christmas miracle to change your grinch of a mood or maybe two? Prompt: "Are you eating cookies right now? It's 3 AM!" "If Santa can do it so can I."

"Holy shit! What are you doing?!"Jin screeches as he enters your shared kitchen. You had technically been sitting at the island in the dark so it wasn't too surprising that you scared him when he turned the light on, either way you didn't flinch.

He jumped so easily to which you found out very quickly when you two first moved in together. Your friendship grew close over the span of 3 years being in each others spaces. He had met your friends, and you met his. You also joined him and his friends visiting his home quite a few times, his parents and brother were welcoming when you showed up the first time. Even now his mum occasionally called you asking how you were, directly wanting to speak to you.

You had grown accustomed to what you two were now.... and if some part of you may have grown to yearn for more, no one needed to know.

“Well after a long therapy inducing video call with my mother, informing her that I will not be making it home for Christmas because of the storm….. I was in need of some guilt food.” You wave the homemade baked good in the air, somehow like it explained everything.

"Are you eating cookies right now? It's 3AM!" He huffs, taking the seat next, giving you his unsubtle side glance. He did that when he was worried but assumed it was better not to say anything.

"If Santa can do it so can I...." You mumble taking another large bite of the sugar cookie. Mouth full you still ask him, "When are you leaving?"

"In about 2 hours" He snatches the cookie out of your hand taking a bite for himself, you stare at him in shock and betrayal, unbothered he continues munching. "The storm report says it's coming in around 6am, I want to be either at my parents or close to by that point."

"Smart move." You agree, grabbing at the last part of the cookie before he can stop you you shove it into your mouth chewing vigorously to swallow it down.

"So what's your plan now?" He doesn't make a move to retaliate, so you assume he's accepted it as he takes is phone out of his pocket and begins tapping on the screen. Probably one of those daily games he plays so much.

"Stay here?" Shrugging at your own suggestion. "Eat my share of cookies I made, binge a show? Who knows I might get a little wild."

"You? Wild?" He raises an eyebrow at you.

"Call it a Christmas miracle."

"Do you want to spend Christmas with me and my family?" He asks, any hint of mocking from before is gone.

"Hah?" That wasn't the politest response you could have given but atleast you hadn't choked.

"My brother and his wife are already there, they'd both love to see you again." He gives you genuine smile. "Not to mention my parents."

"But is that really ok? I don't want to intrude on anything." There was no way he couldn't hear how loudly your heart was beating, and if he couldn't he must be deaf. The whole neighbourhood could probably hear it.

"Of course! Plus you're already packed. It's a win-win." Clearly your face doesn't share his confidence. "Look I'll prove it."

He looks at his phone, doing something on it before placing it on the marbled counter top.

"Wha-" You're cut off from asking anything else, his phone rings aloud only once before the line is picked up.

'Seokjin, is everything ok?'

"Yes mum, can you please tell y/n you already said it's ok for her to spend Christmas with us?" He smirks at you.

'Y/N dear, of course it's more than ok!'

"Mrs. Kim, thank you so much, but what are you doing awake at this time of night?"

'We're all waiting until Seokjin gets here, the storm is too worrisome for us to sleep.'

'IS THAT JINNIE?' You hear a voice boom from the background of her call.

'Yes it's your brother. Y/N will be joining us for Christmas this year.'

'Y/N!' You hear him cheerfully call to you, you can't help but laugh and give a small hello. 'About time Jinnie finally grew a pair and asked you out. I was loosing all hope for him.'

You don't know what to say, your brain short circuits. Grow a pair? Ask you out? What just happened.

"I'll text you when we leave, Bye!" Jin hangs up hastily, giving you a sheepish smile then averting his gaze. But you're stuck looking at him.

"...Jin..." You take a moment to calm yourself, his brother may have just been joking. "What was your brother talking about 'loosing hope'?"

"Uh ha ha." He looks at you again, before giving an audibly shaky exhale. "I didn't really plan to talk to you about this until after Christmas, but um- you see, over these past years of living together and being really good friends I've realized my feelings for you have changed. My family also knows that they've changed and they've been nagging at me to tell you, because in some weird delusion they think you might feel the same way."

'Feel the same way' you both felt the same way?

"And I'll take any Christmas miracle for that to be true. I really would like to be more for you..."

"Well," You start slowly. "It looks like one of us is getting their miracle."

You let out an airy chuckle, before relaxing. You gave Jin's shoulder a little bump snapping out of his stuper.

"Or maybe both? I can still be a little wild at my in-laws place." You snatch another cookie off the plate, leaving your seat and heading to your room to grab any last minute things. But that doesn't mean you're out of earshot to hear him shout from the kitchen.

"THANK YOU CHRISTMAS MIRACLE!"

#bts prompts #bts jin #bts seokjin #christmas prompts #jin x reader #mutual pining #and they were roommates

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authoraemoseley · 1 year ago

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hey! this is chance & here’s week 2's prompt. when you write or create an oc, do you like to reference elements from your life? if yes, name a few. if no, why not?

Howdy! Thanks for the ask! Sorry for the delay in answering, life tried to eat me again rude.

Short answer:

Oh boy do I! I typically pull inspiration from my personal struggles such as my mental/physical health/disabilities (been chronically ill, am deaf without hearing aids), and other elements.

Long answer (most of which is under a cut):

Oh boy do I!

As I said, I typically pull inspiration from my personal struggles, the biggest ones being my physical/mental health and my disability.

This is a huge change from when I first started writing. I would either go full on self insert mode (which I view as cringe now, but I was learning the ropes and it was helpful to my growth as a writer), or I would be like "omz it's so tacky when authors pull inspiration from themselves, that's so cocky!". I was rather extreme when I was a kid XD

I used to avoid writing about my disability simply because I had:

Never seen it done

Thought that it was what I was "supposed" to write, and that my disability had to be written about in a certain way or no one would read it or allow it to be published

And I wasn't interested in stories that people wanted or expected me to write about deaf/hoh people; we aren't tragedies. Give me a deaf person running around a magical world making friends!

And then I realized I could write it*. It wasn't egotistical to pull inspiration from my life. That's what all creators do, intentionally or not. I'm one of those creators that purposefully pulls inspiration/traits from my life and puts them into my characters.

But, with some caveats:

Does it add to the character? For example, Mark originally was such a pain in the butt that when I went back and read my very first draft of the story (back in high school), I had to stop because Mark was just that hateable.** He was angry, self centered which stemmed from his anger, and I just couldn't relate to this guy. The problem is, House of Moons without Mark as the main character, isn't House of Moons at all. So for years, I put the story on hold, and just kind of hoped that one day it would come to me.

When I found out that I could write about my disability my way, I realized Mark needed my hearing loss.

When I was Mark's age, I was furious with the world for a number of reasons. And one of them was because of how horribly the world treated me as a disabled person. Sometimes I was mocked or excluded because I wasn't able to hear. Sometimes it was because the world treated me as special, just because I couldn't hear.

Anything good I did was "Oh wow! You're hearing impaired and you did that? That's so brave!". While in hindsight I know those comments probably came from a good place, it still hurt, and it still hurts to feel as if my accomplishments are intrinsically tied to my ability to hear.

Getting that from everywhere but your family is exhausting. Over time, infuriating. Once I gave Mark his hearing loss (which is the exact same kind of hearing loss I have), his anger made sense. It also gave me a starting point to explore more reasons why he was so angry. So Mark is now angry at his parents for never being around. The magical community for simultaneously fawning over and ostracizing him and his family for something he can't help. His neighborhood and (at first) school for treating him as something breakable because of his hearing loss.

Mark isn't angry at himself for being born with a hearing loss which gradually (for whatever reason) got worse over time. He's angered by how he's treated due to that hearing loss, and a lot of other things too.

Mark sharing my hearing loss adds to his character. Now I love writing him, he's relatable and even though he's angry and can be a jerk, there's a reason behind it and the possibility for growth.

Can I make this trait the character's own?

While I make sure the trait I'm giving the character makes sense, if it doesn't actually help make the character the character, then I nix the idea.

For example (moving the spotlight from Mark for a moment here), Harris and his siblings have PTSD. I have PTSD. Harris and his family have PTSD for very different reasons than I do. If I were to take away the PTSD from any of those characters their story would literally make no sense. They all lived through an unspeakable trauma. For them to not have some sort of physical or psychological scarring makes no sense and is a disservice to the reader.

But how Harris deals with his trauma is different than how his sister and older brother deal with it. They all have PTSD, they all have a shared trauma, but they all cope differently.

And because their PTSD comes from a different place than mine, their coping strategies are different too***. And because in real life, people with shared traumas will still have different coping styles. So how Harris deals with his PTSD (physically hiding often times), is different than how Acida, his sister does (building a blanket fort or stress baking). And of course, their older brother Fanggore copes by making sure his siblings are accounted for and then reads a book.

So typically, I use some part of myself to give myself a starting point in helping flesh out the characters. But I make sure that it's relevant to the character and actually makes sense for them to have that positive or negative trait.

While I focused on my struggles, I do like slipping in positive traits too! I have one character that's very into music and writes lyrics (which I do), another who has my zany sense of humor (I work hard to make sure each character has a unique sense of humor, rather than just everyone being snarky).

Overall, I'm one of those people that really draws inspiration from my personal experiences. I use it more as a starting point and then let my imagination make something new from it.

Thanks for the ask! :D

~ ~

*Cannot tell you how mind-blowing it was to realize that not only was I completely capable of writing about my disability in stories that I would want to read, but also that people would be interested in reading it. Still blows my mind some days.

**I will note here that autocorrect was overly enthusiastic and corrected "hateable" to "hittable" and I'm quite sure everyone felt that way. I also had to stop reading what I wrote cause I was good enough of a writer to know when writing was bad (and at the time it was) but I was also not strong enough of a writer at the time to fix what needed fixing.

***If I were to give Harris and his siblings my exact kind of PTSD (the cause and how I react) that would also make no sense...it really, really wouldn't. That would be silly! /derogatory

#hom:tpm #hom book 1 #the writer talks #writeblr #answered #mark featherguard #hom: mark #hom: fanggore #hom: acida #hom: harris #PTSD mention #ableism mention

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yandere-romanticaa · 2 years ago

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54 for yandere Diluc please

54. “You just love getting attention from everyone but me.”

❤️ Prompt credit goes to @heartbreakmotel13 !

The crude sounds of the bustling tavern fell on deaf ears as you were pinned to a nearby wall, the cold stone hit the back of your neck caused you to wince from the sheer force from the impact but you weren't allowed the luxury of feeling relief because Diluc had other plans in store for you. With one hand he grabbed both of your wrists and pinned them high above your head, allowing him some much needed access.

He understood that these living conditions were not what one would call normal and a part of him was prepared to see you lash out. In fact, it would be horrible if you weren't lashing out and Diluc was more than prepared to take the punishment but to ultimately see you become docile once more. People started to speculate on your person - where have you been, you've been missing for days and none of your friends or family had spoken to you in a while, the alarm bells were ringing in no time. After much thought and consideration Diluc decided to let you roam free in the city but he set up some ground rules that were to be followed to a T.

1. Never stay out past sunset unless Diluc directly states otherwise. Always come back to Dawn Winery and don't bother chatting with strangers for too long.

2. You are not to make a scene in any way, shape or form. Blend in, stick with the crowd and you'll be golden.

3. You are not permitted to tell anyone as to what transpired between the two of you. Diluc managed to convince everyone that you had contracted a sort of illness and that you just happened to be staying in Dawn Winery and Diluc of course paid only for the best healers and doctors. No one batted an eye towards the tycoon's words as his reputation was firm and well respected. It was his word against yours.

Diluc regrets not setting more rules in place because whenever you were out of the house you'd always find a way to push his buttons.

Tonight you were to be a waitress at Angel's Share and what else was there to wear other than a scantily clad top and a little skirt that left nothing to the imagination. Even if you weren't usually fond of such provocative clothing it was always amusing to see stone cold Diluc get ever so flustered by your little show. The outfit drew in a lot of attention naturally, from both friends and strangers. Whenever you did something like this Diluc hardly ever did a thing to prevent it, opting to just stay in his place and seethe with rage.

You underestimated just how much you could stretch his patience.

“You just love getting attention from everyone but me, don't you?” he said, each word uttered quietly and through his teeth. His grip was tighter than iron and there was definitely going to be bruises later. You looked down towards the floor, too humiliated and scared to answer him properly. It was as if he ripped your tounge out with his pulverizing gaze alone but he wasn't having it. His fingernails dug deeply into the soft flesh of your arms, causing them to bleed slightly in the process. You whimpered as your gaze still remained glued to the ground, total fear keeping you frozen. Thick silence hung in the air for a few agonizing seconds before Diluc's grip loosened and he suddenly let you go. Gasping, you looked up at him only to be met with a dead look in his eye, like he was contemplating something.

"If you're going to whore yourself out like this..." he trailed off, voice sounding completely indifferent, his chapped lips pressed into a thin line.

"... maybe I should give you exactly what you want."

You didn't even have time to scream as you felt his arms around you, dragging you away to who knows where.

🍒 TAGS: @genshinarchives, @mod-kisa-blog, @morigumy

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satans-left-asscheeky · 3 years ago

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Salutations!! If your up for it could you do the New Vegas Companions (+ Joshua and Vulpes) reaction to the Courier making plans to return to Zion and set up home there after the war. not the most craziest, but Zion was so beautiful and I wanted to live there with Joshua, Daniel, the dead horses and the sorrows. Thanks!! Have a good day!

Salutations! Gotta say I personally wasn't really a fan of how tone deaf honest hearts was, but zion was fucking beautiful. Thanks for the ask 💖💖💖

Arcade

"Utah? I hear it's beautiful... The followers tried to send some members a while back... didn't end so well as I'm sure you're aware, but if you'd like I'd come with you and provide medical support for the locals."

He'd be fine with it. Of course he'd have to come back to make sure that all the old members of the enclave were doing well every now and again, but he'd be down to go anywhere so long as he was helping people.

Benny

"Why would you wanna go there baby? You're thinking small game you dig? Vegas is where the caps are at..."

He wouldn't understand. even if the courier explained that they just loved the beauty of Zion and wanted to be able to see the stars at night he still wouldn't get it. Vegas has a glow that even a thousand starts couldn't touch and his mind... and the caps. Mostly the caps, but ya know.

Boone

"Fine, but if you are asking me to come with you I'm taking out Graham."

No exceptions he was legion and he should die like legion in Boones mind. Might sound harsh, but that's just Boone.

Cass

"Heard there was a caravan there a while back that got ganked.... maybe it might be a good time to start up a new one. Might need a courier though... if you're game"

Shes been looking for a way to reboot her old legacy and this one sounded just as good as any other. And opportunities weren't exactly lining up at her door, so she'd have to take what she could get.

Joshua Graham

"Your help is much appreciated courier...."

He wouldn't mind having an extra hand to help out depending on his relationship with the courier he might even be glad that they are chosing to stick around.

Raul

"Got room for an old ghoul on your journey boss?"

He'd been everywhere. From Mexico to Vegas and as much as his bones begged him to settle down his spirit wasn't gonna allow it anytime soon, and besides the courier was his favorite traveling buddy anyway.

Veronica

"Given its lack of brotherhood presence I might just follow you there...."

After what happened with the followers she'd been trying to think of where she could go to escape the BOS. The idea that she could have that and stay with her best friend was to great of an opportunity to look down.

Vulpes

"If you intend to go there to contact the burned man you should be mindful whom you share that information with..."

Given his status in the legion he knew he should report the courier... but given his curious nature he couldn't bring himself too. He might even go visit the courier from time to time... However he would never venture to far in fear he may learn to much.

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antonhousehold · 4 years ago

Text

so let's love

summary: sometimes, katsuki let his insecurities get the best of him. and sometimes, you get hurt because of that.

song: so let's love - day6 (click the song, its totally worth it!)

warning: angst. bakugou being toxic. reader is touch starved. yelling and cursing. insecurities. reader is in love with bakugou but he's afraid!! no fluff end!

reader: gn!neutral (or i tried to be neutral!)

note: this is my first time writing angst, so im sorry if is shitty. also, i would like to let know that english is not my first language, so im sorry if i messed up with the grammar and stuff like that!

loving bakugou was kinda... hard.

sometimes he's sweet in his own way. you remember the times when you fell asleep in his arms. the way his heart almost ran away from his chest. the warmth of his body against yours. it was simply beautiful.

he was beautiful.

everything started when you met him in that street. the sky was pouring and some thunders were lightning up the clouds. the city was dark and the stars were the only ones in the scene. he was smoking a cigarette and the smell of the tabaco and the rain was a very unique fragrance to you. you tried to cover him from the rain with your umbrella. gladly, he didn't stop you.

«have I seen you before?» you asked. those vermillion eyes were as deep as the ocean.

«i think so, [name]»

you remember the first time he asked you out in a date. it was simple but nice. just like him.

you remember the times when you were with with him in highschool. the way his words were harsh towards everyone. you thought he overcome that.

«i told you before, dumbass. i can't stand when you touch me like that in public! it makes me look fucking weak!»

we sometimes fight, and get hurt by each other's sharp words

«i didn't even hug you! i just leaned on your body. i can't help it, I'm your partner!»

«my partner would fucking understand and respect my boundaries! or are you too dumb to actually get it?! »

and you tried to be understanding about him. you tried to give him the space he need it. you stopped showing affection towards him in public. it was kinda hard, but if this was the best way to keep him happy and comfortable, you were completely down for it.

then, in your shared apartment, he started to accept your love. you believed in the soft kisses, the hugs, and the fuzzy feeling of his words in your heart. You wanted to believe in the memories of happiness and beautiful moments that you locked in your mind. the promises and the not so often sweet words. it made you feel special. he always made you feel special, or that's what you wanted to believe.

i can't possibly erase all the wounds you left in me

everything was going on very well, at least at the beginning. until those ethereal moments started to get serious. katsuki realized how much in love he was with you. how his heart almost ran away from his chest every time you looked at him.

it was overwhelming.

so he started panicking. you were just too good to be with him. he didn't feel worthy of your love. why would you even love someone like him?

i'm too afraid that you might leave me

«hey katsu, wanna shower together? i thought it was a good idea since both of us are exhausted»

«shower first. i'm not joining»

sometimes, he just didn't even consider your dates or plans with him. every time was the same. 'i have stuff to do, maybe tomorrow', 'i need to study for this test, i'm not gonna throw my career just for you'

you just wanted a little bit of his love.

you know me, please hold my unstable heart

«can you stop looking me like that? it's giving me goosebumps»

«i'm sorry»

it was hard to him as well. every time he saw your disappointed face and the teary eyes of you, his heart sinks. he didn't want to hurt you, but the feeling of loving you were scarier than hurting your feelings.

saying harsh words was so much easier than accepting the fact that he was feeling vulnerable when you were with him.

«i'm not gonna go to that shitty party. go by yourself»

«it's going to be so much fun! come on, grandpa!» you tried to play it cool. you just wanted a little of him.

«are you deaf? im not fucking going. i have stuff way more important than getting drunk with you»

i want your love, please love me. that's all i wish for

«why the fuck are you so clingy around him?!! do you like him or what?!» he asked once you walked through the door.

«what? what are you talking about?»

«don't play dumb with me. answer the fucking question!»

«i don't even know what are you talking about?!» his eyes were staring at you so furiously, that you even felt the goosebumps in your skin. bakugou always looked scary when he was this mad.

«i'm talking about that shitty extra!» he pulled out his phone and let you see the bright photos of the party night that was all over his social media.

even one word, i need to say it carefully. even this sentence with a trembling heart..

in fact, you were with that green haired boy, hugging him and smiling so softly that bakugou wanted to throw up. it was totally disgusting. 'how can they be so lovey dovey with that piece of shit and bitching all the time with me?'

«why are so mad about it? you hate when i touch you or kiss you, then why are you so obsessed when i show affection towards someone else?!» this whole situation was getting on your nerves. it was hard to keep a conversation about this with him, because he'd always yell the same thing about you.

«because you're my fucking partner!! i didn't expect you to be such a whore just for a damn hug!»

his words got stuck in your head as he started walking near you, just to look at your eyes with those deep vermillion eyes. for a moment, you thought he wanted to cried, but his screams blinded his emotions.

his scent stills reminds you fo cigarettes and rainy days. thunders and fire. it was hard to keep all those emotions in your chest.

i thought we were still fine, but i was wrong

«what the fuck is wrong with you, bakugou?!! you don't want me to even look at you but you get jealous when i have a good time with my friends. what the fuck do you want from me??!» you tried to fight the urge of crying. your eyes were begging to let them cry, but the knot in your throat was suffocating you at this point.

«i want you to fucking LEAVE! i'm so done with this shit. i can't stand you anymore. i don't want your shitty 'affection'» he yelled. you jump in your place of how unexpected his words came out. «i don't think i ever loved you! you're so fucking annoying with the same shit. 'please katsuki, love me please' so damn annoying. you wanna know what?! nobody wants your fucking affection, not even me, get over it!!»

we were shaking as much as we could. we were getting that cold

the words he said, the way he screamed, everything felt so out of him.

you felt your hot tears walking down your face so painfully. even felt your blood run cold against your skin. there's no way he was your boyfriend. katsuki was a jerk, totally, but he would never hurt you like that. he's not your katsuki. something happened to him.

you tried so hard to believe that he didn't mean those things. you thought it was just another fight, that tomorrow everything will be normal again. nothing changed, it wasn't real.

«i-i know you didn't mean it»

«i did. fucking leave. take your shit out of here soon»

i'm incomplete. i'm only complete with you

you know me so please, hold my unstable heart

«this is my apartment too»

«then i'll leave! throw all my stuff. enjoy your apartment, you can be free again»

he walked to the door with his phone and wallet, leaving the place with a heavy silent. you stared at the door, expecting to see him trying to apologize, but that didn't happen. you even imagined everything was a really mean joke, that he didn't mean something like that. you can't lie of loving someone for almost six months.

you tried so hard to keep him happy. you tried everything, but at the end, he didn't even love you as much as you did. all your wishes were just a pure thought of hope. it wasn't real. you just wanted a little of his love.

a last kiss.

a last hug.

a last minute of his life.

i want your love, please love me. that's all i wish for

so let's love more in the future

#bakugou angst #bakugou x reader #bakugou headcanons #bnha angst #bnha fanfiction #katsuki angst #bakugou katsuki #bakugou #boku no hero x reader #katsuki x y/n #katsuki bakugou angst #angst #dekubaku #my hero academia #katsuki bakugō #katsuki x reader

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hereformcdonaldshonestly · 4 years ago

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Prompt- "I'm pregnant."

Paring: Eijirou Kirishima, Koji Koda, Hanta Sero, and Shouta Aizawa x !fem reader

Summary: Eijirou, Koji, Hanta, and Shouta, all find out that you're pregnant. It goes through each of their reactions and how you tell them.

Notes: !Characters are aged up to all adults!

(l/n)- Last name

Genre: Fluff 💖

Eijirou Kirishima-

You've been working at home ever since you and Eijirou got married. With him a pro hero and gone for the majority of the day, it was stressful. You have a dalmatian puppy named Freckles, for the sole reason of the spots on him look like big freckles.

"Are you sure you're going to be okay while I'm gone today?" Eijirou asks, sitting next to you while you laid in the bed you two shared. This whole week you have felt sick and felt like something was off in general. You nod, "I'll be fine Kiri, I promise." He says and stands up, he was in his hero uniform, about to leave for his agency and to make some updates to his suit. He leans down and kisses your head, "I love you (y/n), I'll make sure to pick up some takeout on the way home." You smile, "be careful, okay?" He laughs and nods, "of course honey. Call me if you need anything." You nod, cuddled up in your comforter while Freckles was asleep beside you. Whenever you heard the door close, you got up and went to the bathroom. You thought, no you knew you were pregnant. From the morning sickness, the headaches, and honestly your emotions were everywhere.

Eijirou came home that night, tired and somewhat covered in dirt. You were on the couch with your feet propped up on the coffee table. "Hey, babe." You say, looking up at him. He smiles and kisses your forehead, "I'm going to get a quick shower then I'll be in here alright?" He asks, taking his shoes off at the door and putting his keys up. Around 30 minutes later, he sat next to you. He smelled clean and his hair was still slightly damp. You smile and lay your head on his shoulder, turning on the tv. "So how was your day?" You asked while he was focused on the tv, "it was alright. How about yours?" He asks, you smile, "oh you know the usual. I cleaned up, took Freckles out, and that I'm pregnant." Kirishima is nodding and smiling, then he heard the word "pregnant". He stopped and turned to you. "What?" You laugh and pull the test out from your pocket, and showed it to him. He took it and stared at it for a few solid minutes. Then suddenly bursts into a big smile and hugs you, "WE'RE HAVING A BABY BABE!" He exclaims, you laugh and hug him back. That whole night, he sat there talking to your stomach and explaining how awesome he and his mom were.

Koji Koda-

Koji wasn't known for talking a lot, but he would talk to you every day and all day. A lot of people thought he was possibly deaf during U.A, turns out he was just shy. But you brought him out of that shell! You two are currently dating and staying in a two-bedroom apartment, you both are pro heroes.

You and Koji have been trying for a baby for a while, yes you weren't married but you lived together and loved each other, which all that matters. You were sitting in the doctor's office, Koji holding your hand tightly. You sigh, you've been feeling like pure crap for the past two weeks. You start to fidget around with your hairband, trying to get rid of the anxiety that you had. He noticed and placed his hand on your knee, smiling. You sigh and smile back to him, taking your hand and placing it on top of his.

The doctor opened the door gently and came in, sitting down on the round swivel chair near her desk. She turned to you and was writing some stuff on her clipboard. "Okay so Ms. (l/n), what brings you in today?" She asks, you sigh. "I've been feeling sick for the past two weeks, then honestly just sore." You say, she nods and looks back at her clipboard. "We did your blood test, urine test, everything looks great." She says smiling, "but there is something you guys will probably want to know." You could feel your stomach drop, the thought of something being wrong scares you. "You're pregnant." Koji smiles widely and you could feel tears begin to form. You've waited so long for this. And it finally happened, you felt as if you were about to cry out of joy. You felt Koji wrap his arms around you, hugging you. After the doctor set up the first appointment and told you all of the details, you and he went home. You guys talked all night about baby names, how you were going to decorate the nursery.

Hanta Sero-

You and Sero have been married for around a year, technically newlyweds. While he was a pro hero, you were a teacher at U.A. It's always been your dream job since first going, you loved the idea of teaching children to become the best they can be.

You were cooking some lunch, it was some regular ramen. You've felt sick to your stomach the whole day so you wanted something more on the blander side. You felt two arms wrap around your waist, you smile and sigh. "Is that ramen?" Sero asks, you nod and he smiles. "You have to make me some just so you know.' You roll your eyes, "nope this is mine." You both laugh, he places his head on your shoulder. "I'm glad I'm off today, and honestly I wish I had more days off." You nod, it was difficult since he worked a lot, but so did you. You sigh and take the ramen off the stove, placing it into two different bowls. You had one to him and set the other off the side. "You're not hungry?" He asks, you nod. "Just not feeling that great right now." He sighs and kisses your forehead.

Whenever that night rolled around, you finally gave in to your gut feeling that you might be pregnant. With the door closed, you sat on the floor, waiting for the timer to go off. The test was flipped over to where you can't see the results. Sero knocked on the door, "you okay in there babe? You've been in there for a while." He asks, you sigh and get up. You opened the door and look at them, you can tell he's trying to pinpoint what exactly was going on. That's when he finally sees the test on the ground, and you sit back down next to it. He sat down next to you and stared at the test. "Are you pregnant?" You shake your head no, "well I don't think so at least." He nods, and he puts his hand over and on yours, slightly squeezing it. After the timer went off, shortly after, you two looked at each other. "Who does the honors to flip it over?" He asks, laughing a bit. "Who will freak out the least amount if it's positive?" He paused for a second and grabbed it. You laugh and watch his reaction. It was a mixture of confusion at first, then you saw him glance at the box and look back. Then it turned into him smiling and he immediately hugged you. "WE'RE HAVING A BABY!" He exclaims. You hug him back, he starts kissing you and tearing up. "We're going to be a family." He pulls back and looks at you, you have tears of joy forming in your eyes. "I'm going to have a baby Sero!" You say, sniffling but with a big smile on your face. The rest of the night, you and Sero sat there on the bathroom floor and talking about all the plans for the baby you had.

Shouta Aizawa-

You and Aizawa both took at U.A. You've been married to each other for around 5 years, and it was amazing. You were the one to get up earlier, the one to be more active than him. Honestly, you were almost the complete opposite of what he was, but he didn't mind.

Every morning you've been getting up early, like way earlier than usual. Then you've been eating breakfast, lunch, dinner, and snacks in between, which you didn't eat as much so this was definitely odd. Then the big flag was that you were taking naps more, almost every day. Usually, you took naps maybe once a week. Aizawa was picking up on everything, small or not. "Babe I'm tired, I'm going to go take a nap." You say, yawning and plopping down on the couch. He looked at you slightly confused, "are you sure? You usually never take naps more than at most twice a week." Shouta asks, you nod and lay down. He sighs and kisses your forehead, going into the room you two shared. After some research, he found out that was a common sign of pregnancy.

He was automatically terrified but he was excited to have a family one day. Whenever you woke up, you saw a plastic bag in front of you. It had some chocolate, yum, some soda, and a pregnancy test. You look over at Aizawa who was on his phone, "babe what is this for?" You ask, he looks up at you. "You've been acting off, so I researched your symptoms and it talked about pregnancy." You sigh and stand up, but pausing and thinking about it, he did have a point. You grabbed it and went to go take it. Those were the longest 10 minutes in your whole life. You came back into the living room and sat on Aizawa's lap. "Okay ready?" You ask, he nodded while holding onto your waist. You turned over the test and the test had two dark, bold lines. You smiled and looked at him, he looked amazed. "We're going to be parents?" He asks, you nod. He smiles and kisses you. "We're going to have a family dear." You wipe away one of your fallen tears and kiss him again. The whole night you talked about how you were going to announce it to your friends and students, you guys were so excited about this. And you couldn't wait to start your new family.

I hope you have a great day!

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theflyingfeeling · 3 years ago

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don’t know if you still accept these but I’m craving some king having some devoted servant who they love and then someday the king realizes that the servant is in a terrible financial state/just very poor/has to take of siblings etc and saves them from the situation somehow

Ohhh! How's some king!Tommi and servant!Olli? 🥺 Also this may be a liiiiiiiittle more than just a summary, hope you don't mind 💓

Tommi could not wish for a better servant than Olli; having practically grown up together, they knew each other almost better than they knew themselves, not least thanks to Olli's mother, who used to work in the castle's kitchen and often took his firstborn with her to give her poor sister one less head to look after while she herself was working. Olli was fast to make a friend of Crown Prince Tommi, and together they adventured around the castle, tricked the guards and played hide and seek. One could say Olli was like the brother Tommi never had, and in between being brought up as the king-to-be and trying to make the best of his childhood, a brother was something he desperately wanted. Such good friends they were, that when Tommi came of age, Olli was assigned as his personal servant, a job he did with more devotion than Tommi's father did when leading his kingdom.

Olli, on the other hand, had four younger sisters, a sick mother, a father he hadn't seen since he left for north four years ago, crazy chickens, a cat named Wolf who they all thought was a boy but one day had babies under Olli's bed, and a stubborn-ass donkey who was not really much use for anything, but every time they sold it, they would spend the next two days crying because they missed its loud presence so much, until the new owner returned it because it was keeping everyone awake by screaming bloody murder at night.

Tommi never came to know the real reason why Olli's mother stopped working at the castle: after their father had left, she started working even harder, although working harder didn't, unfortunately, result in making her earnings any bigger. She grew paler by the day, until one day she put garlic instead of shallot in the the king's dinner. The king hated garlic (may he burn in hell), and so she was cold-bloodedly turned away at the door when she came to work the next day. As far as Tommi knew, Olli's father had found a well-paying job in the north and was sending parcels to his family every month. As far as Olli knew, his father was as good as dead, or at least he would soon be if he ever had the nerve to show up again after abandoning them all without as much as his Sunday boots left in the wardrobe.

Still, sometimes Olli wondered if he had it better than Tommi after all: Olli's father being gone only made him the head of the household. Tommi's father's untimely death made Tommi the bloody king, at the ripe age of 25.

Like one could expect, things changed after Tommi's coronation. His smile, brighter than the sun casting in from the large stained glass windows of the throne room, gave place to a thin line of his lips, and the twinkle in his eye turned grey and full of worry. And, well, being the servant of a king wasn't quite like being the servant of a crown prince either, as Tommi now had two rows of lackeys and counselors for different purposes, and wasn't able (nor allowed) to share the deepest of his concerns with Olli the way he once used to. Nevertheless, Olli held his head up high, even though the whole goddamn council was whispering their guidance to Tommi, telling him he should probably get himself a more noble servant now that he was king, someone with more experience with what a king needed.

Ironically, that was exactly why Tommi turned a deaf ear to such suggestions, for Olli may not have known what a king needed, but he knew exactly what Tommi needed: a true friend, someone who Tommi knew he could trust with his life, not to mention with his kingdom.

He knew this, because sometimes, after a day full of sittings and sessions, each more mundane than the last, Olli needed to take only one look at the crinkles on Tommi's forehead before he started pouring him a hot bath. He knew this, because sometimes, there were flames sparkling from the fireplace and Olli sitting in front of it when Tommi finally crawled back to his chambers, having finished his affairs past midnight like he often did, and it was Olli's job to make sure he would be returning to a warm room, a warm bed.

"Won't your mother be missing you?" he had once asked as they lay side by side, the glow of the fire colouring Olli's hair orange and red.

"Yes, but let her," Olli replied. His lips were softer than the velvet inside Tommi's ceremonial crown, the shade of red more beautiful than that of the rubies decorating it.

One morning after such a night, Tommi woke up to a cold bedchamber, more due to the absence of his servant than the fire that had died out. It wasn't unsual that Olli would excuse himself to spend time with his family at dawn before returning to his duties at the castle again, a dispensation Tommi was glad to grant him despite the disapproval of those who believed a servant should never leave his lord's side. But when the cathedral bells chimed twelve at noon and Olli was yet to return to his post and serve the king's lunch, he grew worried.

And when the sun started setting behind the horizon and there was still no sight of his servant, Tommi was all but ready to send a rescue party to search all the nearby forests, riverbanks and wells for a trace, even if it was a single curl of Olli's silky hair.

But as his most grey-haired adviser suggested this hideous betrayal was but a sign for the king to finally look for a more worthy servant, Tommi borrowed a guard's robe from the cloakroom and made his way out of the castle, the dusk offering a cover for his escape. To him, Olli was worth more than all the rest of the kingdom combined.

Having accompanied Olli to more than a few escapades to the town in their childhood days, Tommi could still remember the way to his modest house. He was relieved to see a candle lit at the window instead of a dark, abandoned hut.

However, Olli's face when he opened the door was far from the happiness Tommi felt upon finding him safe and sound. Deeper in the cottage, in the only bedroom they seemed to have, was Olli's mother, all skin and bones, with barely enough energy to keep his mouth open as one of Olli's sisters held a spoonful of porridge in front of her.

Tommi refused to listen to Olli's apologies for his unexplained absence, and didn't let go of the man until he had poured the last of his tears on the front of Tommi's tunic. Then, with a promise to return the next day, he left and sneaked back into the castle, his hand trembling from the heartbreak for his companion when he closed the door of his chambers after him.

True to his word, the king came back in the morning, but not alone: the court physician, the most gifted one in his field too, that was for sure, sat down on the chair next to Olli's mother's bed and opened his leather bag. Meanwhile Olli ordered his sisters around to clean the mess of the breakfast in the kitchen and to go tell that damn donkey to shut its muzzle, and Tommi observed it all with awe, almost a kind of envy, since it was not the destiny of a king to lead such a domestic life, in which you could ruffle the hair of a sibling (if only you had one) and fondle the fur of a pet (if only you had one), and, at times, do nothing much but sit in front of the window and watch the chickens feed themselves on the seeds a little girl was throwing for them. The windows of the castle were so high that the only life Tommi ever saw from them were the tiny dots moving far below him as he watched the town from afar, like ants living their life for the queen, yet still apart from it.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked Olli, whose dark eyes watered as his mother coughed.

"It's not a kingly matter," he contended. Tommi begged to disagree, but said nothing about it.

"I suppose your father wasn't hired a statesman in the north, was he."

"No," Olli confirmed. "He was not."

Tommi could almost hear the jump Olli's heart did when the physician emerged from the room. Olli's mother's chest was moving peacefully as she lay in bed, and although Tommi couldn't pride himself on knowing much about medicine, he took it as a good sign.

"She'll live," the man said, "but not without this tincture." He then held a finely-shaped blue bottle for them to see. "Although, I regret to tell you the wages of a servant are not quite sufficient for such a costly remedy, even if you worked for the king himself."

The stool Olli slumped on creaked miserably, but it was the sound of Olli's sobs that stabbed a dagger to the king's chest.

"And what about the king?" he turned to the physician. "Would the king afford this? A supply large enough to ensure she lives to see her lastborn marry?"

"But sire-"

"Give me my answer," the king demanded, and the sobs quieted down.

"Well, most certainly, but-"

"Then see it done."

"Sire-"

"Am I not making myself clear? Or shall I perhaps ask the expertise of another physician, telling them you failed to do as your king asks?"

A silent voice next to him spoke. "What are you doing?" The voice was full of astonishment and disbelief, and Tommi was desperate to hear its usual, bright tone in his ears again.

Tommi dismissed the question and kept on addressing the physician. "Am I correct in my knowledge that there is an uninhabited chamber in the eastern tower? The one my mother used as her library?"

"I believe you are, sire."

"It's high time we quit letting it go to waste then. It will be furnished for five people. And a cat, it seems."

"Excuse me, do I not have a say in this?" The stool creaked when Olli stood up again, eyes stern on Tommi and a furrow in his brow.

"Your mother will be more comfortable next to a fireplace, and your sisters will no longer have to touch a broom or cook a meal."

"But I like cooking!" the 12-year-old sister argued.

"And that's all you'll be doing until you learn how to address your king accordingly, child!" the physician said through gritted teeth.

"And you'll be happy if you'll ever be able to hold a spoon in your hand again if you speak to my sister like that!" Olli's eyes were full of fury, and Tommi could barely hold back a smile.

"Whatever your sisters want to do, they will, I give you my word for it." Tommi's voice turned softer, as if often did when Olli's eyes were on him.

"And me?" Olli asked. "Am I supposed to continue as your servant, as if the other servants' families weren't also poorly and penniless?"

"Only if that's what you wish. I'm sorry if there's not enough room in the castle for everyone in need," Tommi affirmed, then lowered his voice enough for the fossil of a physician to not hear, "and who am I to argue with my heart's desires?"

A smile lingered on Olli's lips. "You're right. You're nothing but the king."

"To the kingdom, maybe. To you?" Tommi's lips brushed the leaf of Olli's hear. "I'm completely at your mercy."

A brush of air caressed Tommi's cheek as Olli laughed.

"You'll say yes?"

The way Olli's hair framed his fair features when he turned his head to look out the window made Tommi wonder why the royalty bothered with crowns; nothing would ever compare to those golden curls anyway.

"Yes," Olli approved at last, and the king would have happily given up the throne to forever see the bright smile on his servant's lips.

The strident shriek sounding from outside the window somewhat broke the illusion of forever, but only until Tommi saw Olli's smile widen.

"If the donkey comes too."

THE END

#blind channel #blind channel rpf #you said the magic words 'king and his servant' and so this happened #also i could not help myself and made this a medieval royalty au again #but fyi i'm not opposed to modern day royalty aus either.. 😇#also the pov is kinda mixed which i usually try to avoid but what can you do

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the-goddess-of-mischief-writing · 3 years ago

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New York High Rise {3}

Series summary; What does Steve think of what just happened? Well, not only will his next client get to know but also a dear friend of the mob boss.

Pairing: mob!Steve x mob!reader

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Chapter 3/5

Word; 6.2k

Warnings; canon type violence, death, anything you could expect from a mafia!au

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing

A/N: I just want to warn anyone, this chapter revolve around Steve and contains graphic scenes so if anyone feel like they may get triggered, I have now warned you. If you choose to read anyways it is YOUR choice.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Steve was fuming. He could practically feel the steam rising from the top of his head. This time, compared to earlier, it wasn't because of the feverish warmth inside the club. Nor the sunny season's air outside. It was because of the folder resting on the table.

The Canine boss could still hear the echoing slap the orderly stacked papers had done when landing on the table. Even your words reverberated in his head like an annoying tune he couldn't help but mutely sing in his mind.

This was not how he'd thought this meeting would go.

Steve had planned to get his will through, to expand his empire from Brooklyn to the most successful part of New York, Manhattan, your territory. But no. You'd decided to be as stubborn as a mule and as stuck up as the bureaucrats that he needed to handle in exclusive deals.

Now he understood why so many said your empire wasn't the usual kind, rather something new. You'd built your syndicate from the best, or worst in regard of how the Canine for the moment saw you, of two worlds.

"Bitch", you were long gone, so the growled curse aimed at you went unheard. However, the walls around Steve caught the profanity he uttered whilst snagging the folder from the table and pursued to head out of the room.

Only the guards stationed outside the corridor leading to the conference room was still in the club. Yet, the Canine boss paid them no mind as he stalked out of the private area, making them scramble to follow him. The rest of his party, even those previously undercover, must have either retreated for the night or waited outside. Concerning how Steve himself hadn't left yet, he suspected at least his most trusted team was waiting by the car.

Passing through the lobby, the mob boss frightened some of the staff lingering about. Not only thanks to the authority he always carried himself with but also his visible darkened features. However, Steve's attention didn't stray to the people following him with wary eyes. Instead, he looked straight forward, focusing on his guards where they lounged around the black Chrysler he'd arrived with a few hours earlier.

Seemingly, they had enough of an engaging conversation that they shared some laughs. But that changed the moment Steve stepped through the door a bouncer held open for him.

Usually, the Canine boss' hard exterior dissolved somewhat among his men, seeing how they'd become good comrades. Although now, when the dark-blonde man came out of the club looking like he could kill someone, their easy smiles and carefree stance immediately smartened up. Backs straightened and jaws clenched upon seeing the fury Steve not only emitted with a scowl but his whole body.

"How did it go?" One of the guards questioned, more out of courtesy than curiosity, concerning it was clear how it went. As suspected, he got nothing more than a glare from Steve, seeing how his anger hadn't flickered out the slightest, only heightened when feeling how his fingers clutched the folder in his hand even tighter. Your folder with your contract.

"Where's Barnes?" Some flinched by his bark of a question.

"He's still inside...", the rest of the answer fell on deaf ears as the blonde rounded the car, not caring too much where his head bodyguard was for the moment, only that he would hurry up to finish whatever he dealt with.

"As soon as he's back, we go", the driver, who had noticed the Canine boss and stepped out of the vehicle to hold open the door for him, didn't even get the chance to do what he intended. Steve all but tore open the backseat door and climbed into the car. Leaving the chauffeur to stand there and look at his boss in perplexity, as the Canine didn't more than touch the black leather seat before he slammed the door shut again.

That Steven had a temper everyone in his vicinity knew. But how he now acted reached not only a new level but contrasted heavily to how you'd appeared.

You'd left about ten minutes ago, looking indifferent to how everyone in Steven's patrol had seen you when first entering the designated conference room. That guard of yours had led you to the car parked mere ten feet from their own boss'. There, your chauffeur had greeted you with a smile and a few quiet words none besides you were meant to hear. Neither was your response, that likewise was accompanied with a smile, able to be distinguished.

As you stepped into your transport, none of the men trying to read your expressions noted anything more than a similar politeness Steve could show them once in their company. However, when comparing it to the state of their own boss once he exited, it was clear that the meeting didn't favour the Canine boss, but rather the Feline. And though none who had accompanied Steven knew what the two of you'd discussed concerning the meeting had been a closed-door discussion, they knew their boss hadn't brought anything with him earlier. So when spotting the portfolio that the mob boss had held in his hand, it only sealed the deal further.

That was why none of the guards nor the chauffeur intruded on the solitude Steve had sought inside the car, merely waiting for the right-hand man of the Canine boss to return so they could head to their next stop.

And it was good none did either, seeing how Steve mulled over everything that had happened with curses leaving him every five seconds. Additionally, anyone who would've opened the opposite backseat door would have got your folder smack in the forehead, seeing how the blonde man had thrown it as harshly and as far away from himself that he could, once in his own confinement.

He didn't need to hold the damned contract you'd offered him, even less open and study it, to know he would read it in your annoying voice. And that aggravated Steve even more.

It annoyed him that your voice echoed as a constant reminder in his mind. It annoyed him that you'd prepared a contract, which so obviously cried you hadn't even come here to listen to him in the first place. It annoyed him to such a fucking degree that you'd played him by a mere act of forced courtesy rather than a gentlemen move, to use your own words, that it felt like he could just tear the contract to shreds.

Still, he didn't.

The blonde man seethed, turning his head to look at the folder. 'If you don't sign it and have it delivered to me, I know you've declined my offer and this war will be ended in another way.' He knew you were serious about that, so perhaps that was why he hadn't left it behind in the conference room. Nonetheless, it had taken a great effort for Steve to push away every ounce of pride in his body to grab ahold of it. And when he finally held the stiff cartoon folder, it had almost felt like it burned him like some crucifix. No, it burned like a sign of defeat.

Joseph Rogers would never have done it, never admitted when he was defeated.

At the thought of his father, Steve's hand fisted where it rested on the armrest dividing the two seats in the back of the car. What would he say? He probably wouldn't have said anything, just walked out as you had done to him. A vibration deep in his chest made a low sound leave him at the realisation you actually played the game his father always had and Steve himself only thought he had.

Fittingly, or unfittingly in his own mind, the door connected to the other seat opened with a click to interrupt the abusive thoughts of his father.

Although pulled out of his mind, Steve didn't glance to see whoever plucked the folder occupying the seat beside him before they climbed in themselves. There was only one person that first and foremost would dare to be in his presence right now. On top of that, also knew he was the only one who didn't need to repeatedly ask for permission to join him.

Not even when he saw the person shift in his peripheral, from simply holding the folder to actually waving it slightly to catch his attention, clearly wanting to ask him a question, did Steve look towards them. Although, he did speak up.

"Not a word, Barnes", the Canine boss raised his fist, so it was levelled with his cheek as he said this. By now, his nails had dug into his palm and there was no question small crescent moons would be dented in his skin.

"Maybe I should've stayed, after all", the sentence was followed by a chuckle, the sound making Steve snap to watch the man sitting beside him.

"Didn't I say you should keep your mouth shut?" The blonde stared at the brunette. Who, unlike earlier, now had pulled his hair into a low bun in the nape of his neck. However, no matter the fury the Canine's cold blue eyes conveyed, Bucky Barnes saw no real threat.

"You often do, but you have so far not put a bullet in me", Bucky shrugged with an easy smile.

The mob boss remained silent as his head bodyguard leaned forwards far enough to knock on the wall beside the still open windshield that could separate the driver from those in the back seat.

"Close it up", Steve honestly thought the brunette would've given the chauffeur, who now had taken his place behind the wheel, directions of where to go. Gauging by his act, he must have done it before getting into the car. Hence, the driver did nothing but nod to signify he heard what the guard said before closing the visor, leaving whatever Steve knew Bucky wanted to talk to him about for only him to hear.

He felt the car rock to a gentle start, the road underneath the vehicle sending small vibrations throughout Steve. Tilting his head, he saw the scenery blur as he didn't concentrate on anything specific they drow by.

Despite the initial silence of the car ride, the blonde saw how the man beside him shifted, angling his body just slightly more his way. The minimal change of where Bucky attention laid told the mob boss he would initiate a conversation. And as on a cue, Bucky spoke. "So what happened? 'Cause clearly you scared half of your squad enough for them to want to take a week off".

He didn't redirect his gaze, fearing that his now fisted hand would connect with his friend's jaw if he didn't control himself. What happened? The question taunted in his mind, enough so that Steve clenched his jaw. Everything that shouldn't have happened.

"You have the folder", he gritted out, continuing to aimlessly stare out of the window, now concentrating on how the scenery changed from the narrow streets the nightclub had been located in to instead manifest the glittering sunset reflecting off the water in East River.

Beside him, he felt how Bucky shifted and shortly afterwards came the sounds of papers starting to be turned over. The head guard sat silent as he read the contract that not even the Canine had looked through.

The lack of verbal confirmation of Steve's evident loss in this meeting spurred the blonde, whether he wanted or not, to glance at the brunette.

Bucky's brows were furrowed. Consequently causing the grooves on his forehead, which always appeared when he pondered something, to become extremely visible. His features remained this way as his eyes scanned over the rows stitching together the contract. Then, for some reason, they changed.

From an expression showing the brunette tried to fathom the situation that had made Steve considerably harsher to anyone in his close vicinity, his face now fell and a smirk began to toy with his lips. On top of this, he let out a low whistle turning to the next page.

The smouldering anger in Steve's chest flared up to the same intensity it had burned with earlier. Back when he had sat in silence and glared at the folder inside the club. He ground his teeth together, feeling how they caught in each other's pointy edges.

"What?" He demanded to know what the man all of a sudden found so entertaining. Yet, the answer didn't come immediately. Instead, Bucky sat there with the same expression pinning his face while finishing the document in his grip.

Not until the brunette had closed the binder and waved it similarly to how he'd done when entering the car did his gaze meet Steve's. His eyes, also blue but slightly greyer in colour, was crinkled in the corners. The amusement, or whatever caused the mob boss nostrils to flare in agitation, was only further displayed by the shake of his head.

"She's good".

"What?" Bucky almost hadn't finished his nearly wordless reply before Steve barked his requirement of an explanation.

"Whether you want to admit it aloud or not, I know you think about it in that analysing brain of yours", the brunette begun, pushing the folder underneath the mob boss' arm on the armrest. Steve, who followed the act with disdain, shuffled in his seat directly afterwards so he wouldn't be touching the contract which you formerly had been carrying around.

Watching the blonde's action, Bucky only continued, now even less worried his words might be wrong and evoke further anger from the Canine. Of course, he might still get mad, though Bucky knew he at least was right. "She is good, Steve. If not shown by this contract, which I suggest you read, then at least how she's gotten to you".

The blonde man elected to ignore the last part of his bodyguard's sentence. Hence, only questioning the first part. "Why should I read it?"

Arrogance was a trait many shared once someone stepped on their pride, but never had Bucky witnessed such amounts of it exhibited by the Canine boss. His nose twitched in the corner as if the mere thought of opening the papers offended him. The mistrust in his voice showed he didn't believe what just was advised to him, nor that the words of you being competent could be true. All signs of denial, a damaged pride.

"Sometimes I wondered how you even could've come this far to rebuild your father's empire when you're so stubborn to see the truth at times", the comment made Steve cock his head.

"Is that a threat or a call for resignation, I hear?" Bucky simply rolled his eyes and turned to fully face the man, now giving him his undivided attention.

"I may have been here from the day you called me and asked me to join your plans, but believe me, working outside this world for some time, especially in the field I was in, you learn to see who is good at their job and not".

Although Bucky had known Steve ever since they were kids, essentially because their fathers had been partners when the Canine empire was worth more than its own power in gold, the two had fallen out of the regular touch they'd kept after Joseph had passed. Steve had remained close to his mother. While Bucky returned to have both his feet in the ordinary world.

His name had never been brought into the discussion of conviction or any kind of youth crimes, essentially thanks to his father never being proven guilty of the few charges raised against him. Another favour his old man thanked the former Canine boss for. For Bucky, it made things easy to find live his life as if he didn't know what went on underneath the city he walked in.

He went to school, took a degree in law. Which his father before passing as well, considered humorous. Though, Bucky didn't start working directly even if offered jobs. He'd been young and not really knowing which direction he would go. He had no mothers footsteps to follow, seeing how she'd passed before he even had a memory of her. His father shoes still felt too big to fill, so he decided to follow a path he felt natural.

Bucky joined the army. Not more than a few years and two trips. Nevertheless, it was easy pocket change concerning two factors. His father had urged him to take the same martial art classes as Steve's father had done to him. He'd also lived with one foot in the syndicate and the other outside during his whole childhood. The concept of order, planning and warfare wasn't anything alarmingly new to him.

Then he'd begun to explore more, starting to step into the low tier position as an intern at different firms. It was easy to get in, concerning his degree and quickly, he gained enough working experience to get a promotion. His former boss at the advocate company may have thought Bucky was a natural talent or a genius from school. But, it was all thanks to his upbringing he possed the requirements a higher position demanded.

It's mainly thanks to his years working within the judiciary before reconnecting with Steve and began working as his head guard Bucky knows you fall into the group of people who are good at what you do.

The blonde had sat silent this whole time, never breaking away from Bucky's stare. It made the brunette believe that his friend would settle whatever resent he had towards you personally and at least read through the arrangement you assembled for the greater of his empire. Apparently, he was wrong.

"But now you're not working with that anymore", Bucky actually let out a low scoff of annoyance.

"I'm working as a head personal guard for someone I'm swaying on keeping alive at the moment, I know. And I do this because we both know I'm better at the combat part than you, ever since we were kids", despite the jab, it was the mention of how the man, despite being roughly the same size as Steve, always had been slightly better at fighting then himself that made the blonde bite his inner cheek. "I also know that I'm still damn good at what used to be my former profession. Which, you actually also should know concerning you never shoo me out of the room when discussing with your official advisors of the plans to come", when he finally ended the point he wanted to prove, he cocked a brow at Steve, who now had furrowed his brows.

Bucky saw the ire still lingering in the blondes' eyes, making them go cold rather than warm. Nevertheless, he said nothing. The Canine boss simply gave the folder, which hadn't moved from its settlement no matter how much the two men gently had rocked with the turns of the car, one last glare before he altogether turned away as much as his seat let him.

The head bodyguard was close to letting the comment of how similar the mob boss, who'd made a name for himself lately of being indifferent to everything standing in his way, was to a rebellious child. Yet, in the end, he didn't, knowing the car ride would become even more atrocious than it already was set to be.

As suspected, the whole drive from the club to the luxurious hotel, where the Canine boss' next stop was, went by in complete silence. And, when they finally pulled up outside the building, the car had almost not stopped before Steve opened the door without a word. The brunette couldn't but let out a huff and follow the man out of the vehicle.

As Bucky tracked a few steps behind the blonde mob boss, he nodded to a few of the other bodyguards to follow as well. Whatever he might have remarked about considering to keep Steve alive was very much said as a dig at the moment to remind the man he might be written as his subordinate, but he was true to nature working side by side with him. After all, Steven was his friend and Bucky didn't desire to get his blood on his hands.

When the little party of Canines neared the entrance, both men stationed on each side of the doors opened them without further ado. Either they thought Steve looked like someone fitting to live here, or they could've been paid to do so. The brunette figured it was the latter concerning the overall safety measures, not only this hotel but the district in general upheld. Although, he didn't question it way too much as he now concentrated on the slightly denser crowd of people in the lobby.

Not only did they blend in quite well, concerning the people living at this hotel was flanked by at least two bodyguards each. Bucky also noticed how some of the former rigidity in Steve's shoulder lessened as he weaved through the lobby.

Though anyone else may find it excellent that the physical aspect of the blondes former irritation trickled off, it unsettled Bucky even further. Thus, having grown up with Steve, he knew that the silent seething anger was worse than the outgoing one. This, in other words, didn't bode particularly well.

However, even though the brunette had a raising suspicion, along with fear, that this visit the mob boss had decided to do after his meeting with you wouldn't have a good outcome, he had no chance to voice his worry. Essentially because the elevator they'd taken to reach the floor they were heading to now stopped.

Bucky was first to exit the elevator. Checking that the coast was clear before looking back to the Canine boss. He tried making the blonde meet his gaze, now seriously doubting if Steve was fit to meet the partner he'd had an escalating problem with the past weeks. Yet, the blue-eyed man kept his attention straight forward and didn't even spare his childhood friend a glance.

A thousand things were running through Steve's mind as he headed down the corridor, spotting the door his business partner was on the other side of.

He knew Bucky tried gaining his attention with the repetitive looks he threw his way. His most entrusted bodyguard and friend could read him like an open book. Thus knowing the silent facade that he'd put up was just that, a facade. Still, he continued to ignore him as he'd done ever since their conversation was over half an hour ago.

As the party stopped before the door, Steve decided to give the inclining nod to one of his other guards to step forwards and knock on the door.

Following three rapid knocks, a call of 'no cleaning' followed by a similar set of knockings later, footsteps could be heard near the door from the other side. A few seconds after, the door swung open, revealing a man currently trying to fasten his cufflinks.

"I said I didn't...". Even though the brunette's eyes had been cast down as he'd began to speak, the second they flickered up to watch, what the man must have assumed would be a hotel maid but rather was the Canine mob boss, he trailed off in his sentence.

"Good day Mr Jefferson", if the man's body hadn't already gone rigid, his shoulders bounced up even closer to his ears after Steve's greeting.

In a hurried attempt to smarten up, he completed his attempt of fastening the jewellery pin.

"Mr Rogers", he breathed out almost shakily while pulling a hand through his hair, some of the strands sticking to his scalp while others simply fell forwards once more. "Why do I owe the pleasure?"

Without answering, Steve stepped forwards, forcing the man to open the door wider.

As he walked into the pad, the blonde gazed around it uninterestingly. It was lavish. Probably like most rooms were in the hotel.

"I'm here to talk with you". Steve answered his associates question the second he heard the door closed. Taking the liberty, he sat down in the couch group occupying a vaster portion of the entry room's space. "Sit", with a wave of his hand, the Canine motioned to the sitting place at the other side of the dark oak table.

Jefferson, who glanced warily at the guards that had stationed themselves around the room -one by the window, another two directly behind Steve and the last lingering by the door out to the corridor- had no other choice than to follow the mob boss' directions.

Sitting down at the edge of the seat, he swallowed around the lump in his throat.

"How's business going?" The mob boss asked as he leaned against the couches backrest. One arm was slung over the ridge, fingers tapping against the material, while his other hand rested on his thigh.

"Bussines is going well".

"Good, always nice to hear companies you invest in are going strong", Steve hummed, noticing the minimal shift Jefferson did as he said this. "How's my money going?"

"Ah... t-that question is a little more complicated...".

Even though the brunette continued to ramble about all the different reasons his payments were late, or not even that, non-existing, the Canine boss didn't listen. He knew he was being screwed over by the man opposite him. He'd gotten the information weeks ago that the CEO of the company he's worked with since the beginning of the year wanted to change sides.

At first, it had been more of a rumour and he hadn't been able to dig up where Jefferson's company was heading. Then it became clear they would switch partners to one of the other godfather's around New York. However, even if Steve thought he didn't like how they tried doing so in the shadows while still upholding their deal, the worst thing was when he got to know who they shifted their alliance to. You.

Seeing how much unfavourable publicity you'd given his empire in the last few months was aggravating. However, listening to the man talking his ear off as if Steve hadn't already figured why exactly fifteen percentages of the profit capital was rolling into your account instead of his was the last drop.

Without even noticing it himself, Steve's hand that had rested upon his thigh raised and were tucked into his suit.

The metal handle he gripped wasn't cold anymore, not after having rested so close to his heart for over an hour. Nor did it get cooled down as he hastily pulled it out of its holster and aimed it at the man opposite him.

"I don't like rats, Landon", the use of the man's first name rather than surname would've made him quiet if the gun aimed his way already hadn't silenced him. "Pray you don't get reborn as one in your next life as well".

On the firearm, a silencer was mounted. So the characteristic bang sounded much more like a pop. Therefore, the noise of the gun was even less intimidating than the ricochet. However, neither of the telltale signs of a shot made Steve flinch, not even as he watched the bullet penetrate the space in-between his former associate's eyes, did he react.

As the mob boss stood, Jefferson's upper body slumped forward, hitting the table with a heavy thud and ugly clap as his head was the first thing that connected with it. No tears were trickling down his cheeks. Only a red streak that steadily created a near-invisible puddle on the mahogany table.

"Steve!" The silence and peace Steve found in watching the body was cut short by Bucky's voice.

The Canine glanced to his side, regarding how his head bodyguard rounded the couch and stood before him with one single step.

"What the fuck was that?" The brunette exclaimed, hand motioning to the dead body.

If any other person than Bucky would've done the same thing in this instance, they either would've ended up joining peaceful Mr Jefferson, or they wouldn't work within the Canine empire anymore. However, concerning that it now was his childhood friend staring at him in disbelief, Steve made sure none of the options was carried through.

"Problem-solving", Steve answered, about to take a step forwards but were stopped with a hand planting itself on his chest. He looked down before looking up with a cocked eyebrow.

"That ain't how we solve shit!"

"Not we, but I", Steve said, gripping Bucky's wrist, ripping it away from him. "You see, now both our problems are solved. He doesn't need to fear his cover being blown and I don't need to lose more money". That was all Steve said before taking a step around the brunette, whose eyes had narrowed considerably.

As most of his colleagues trailed after their boss, Bucky stayed back just a second longer, looking at the lifeless body giving a new sheen to the table whilst staining the carpet underneath. He'd known Steve had taken your conference badly and he also knew it hadn't been a good idea to have this appointment so shortly afterwards, especially when it was connected to you, but in such a different way. Still, he hadn't believed it would take this much of a turn.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

"Damn that fucking thing!" Steve roared, not thinking when he swept his hands over his desk. Everything from pencils, an empty coffee cup and other things crashed to the floor. However, it wasn’t solely that which now was littering the ground. The papers of your contract had flown out of the folder as well.

Staring down at the mess of shattered glass and paper from his standing position. The Canine boss felt a sneer enter his features. Ever since returning home late last night, he'd been locked inside his study. Primary because it was the place no one dared to disturb him in, but also because he didn't feel like arguing with Bucky.

He knew that after the stunt, as he knew his friend and bodyguard would label his approach to the Jefferson problem, the brunette wanted to speak with him. Yet, with the residue anger of not only a restless night, one Steve had powered through thanks to copious amounts of coffee. But also the subject now taunting him on the floor, a conversation with his right-hand man would lead nowhere.

He and Bucky didn't often get into fights, but Steve was convinced this was one of the matters that could force such a confrontation. He'd still not gathered his bearings enough to admit that he needed to yield. Because that was what he would need to do.

The mob boss switched from watching the scattered pieces of the contract to instead stare straight into the oaken surface of his desk as he now leant on it, knuckles turning white from how strongly he held the countertop. By now, he'd read through the four-page agreement. Something that was a step in the right, or in Steve's regard wrong, direction.

He didn't want to admit it. But as Bucky had mentioned yesterday, it was a top-certified contract. He couldn't find any loopholes. No grey-zones. No area that he could play you on.

Steve knew that you would be hard to crack, but he hadn't anticipated this.

Despite knowing that you and the Felina empire had overtaken his father's grip on New York, he had underestimated you. A woman running the empire you did was so uncommon he thought you would have some weak spot regarding how you had no one else to look up to. Nor did you have any previous family connections to the underworld. Which honestly made your success even more astonishing.

Almost so much it was questionable if you had done it yourself.

Steve had assumed you hadn't. Someone else must be the brain behind the operation, simply using you as a puppet. However, it seemed he'd made a tremendous mistake by assuming just that. It wasn't anyone else running your empire. You were involved in every little part of the well-oiled machine.

Once more, the canine boss let out an irritated noise, sounding more like a growl than a harsh sigh in his own ears.

He pushed off from the countertop and, in one motion, had side-stepped his chair. Now, with the room behind him, Steve stared out of the windows lining the wall furthest from the entrance. His arms had crossed over his chest and remained there as he stared out at the bay not far away.

Ferries and other boats travelled the waters. Breaking the tension and creating small waves. If it wasn't for this, it almost would've looked like they travelled through the city. Regarding how not only New York's but also Brooklyn's dusk lightning reflected in the water.

When the Canine boss finally felt the sight before him lessened the tension in his shoulders, a knock came from the door.

If his features ever had lightened, the sound immediately beckoned a furrow to take its place. Even more so when the door opened without him having given the person on the other side permission.

He knew who it was, Bucky.

"What do you want?" Steve's voice was cold, harsh.

"I want to speak with you", instantly, the mob boss noticed how his friend's voice didn't carry that joyous tone when he spoke to him as just that, friends. Bur rather the more levelled one, the professional one.

"I won't speak about Jefferson".

"Neither is that why I'm here", glancing over his shoulder upon hearing the rustle of paper, the Canine boss saw his guard pick up the pieces of the contract from the floor. He arranged them before putting them back into the folder. Contrary to how Steve would've caused the map to give away a whack when flinging it onto his desk. Bucky's hand followed through the whole movement. His fingers even resting upon the grey folder as it laid placid on the middle of the counter.

"I'm here to talk about the real problem", Steve turned to face the brunette. He didn't say anything. Still, Bucky knew that having gotten this much attention was a sign he either was about to be shot or given a limited amount to talk.

"I know this is hard for you, Steve... actually scratch that, it is hard for everyone who's supported you. But I'll be damned if you let everything we've worked for go to waste because you don't have it in you to lose a battle in favour of winning a later war"

All of a sudden, Bucky's face twisted as an unexpected crash echoed. His fist had smashed onto the table. Enough for the countertop to rattle.

“I love to give you the most personal advice I've ever had”, he started, not even holding back his pent up frustration. “Sign that fucking contract, pal". The canine boss' blue eyes narrowed as he met the stormy grey ones of the man before him.

"Get out", Bucky clenched his jaw and straightened himself.

"I'll be waiting for the call to come and pick it up", was the last thing the brunette said before swiftly turning on his heel and heading to the door.

Steve followed his oldest friend with his eyes until the door echoes shut behind him. Even after Bucky's footsteps were long gone, did the Canine boss stare forward. He did it simply because he didn't want to let his eyes flicker down to the contract, now turned to the last page where the paper waited for his signature.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

A day later, Steve still stared at the folder resting un-signed on his desk. It was out of pure spite he hadn't signed it. To keep your victory at bay.

Two days later and he felt how the clock on his wall ticked louder than before. How the voices in his head escalated from whispering to shouting at him. 'Sign that fucking contract, pal.'

Three days later and Steve felt how time was running out.

Even if he didn't want to admit it aloud. To not sign would be foolish. Sure, he had the resources to continue this war. Hence, the short extra time the meeting and his delay in signing the contract had abled him to recoup. But still, his empire was lacking a significant piece his father's syndicate had, time. He needed more time to grow but wasn't given that. So yes, he could continue this battle, but he could not win it.

Therefore the mob boss gripped the pen and pressed the ink dipped tip to the dotted line.

His signature was darker than usual. More colour bleeding onto the paper. The curves of the letters were not as smooth as regular either. Instead, straighter, pointier. Forced.

Steve didn't look at his name shining back at him once he raised the pen and put it back in its stand. Instead, Steve stood and dialled a number on his phone. One tone was all it took before the person on the other end picked up.

"Get it out of my sight, Barnes", was all he said before instantly hanging up. The call had lasted four seconds. Even so, Steve deleted it from the history of his 'latest' list.

Shoving the phone into his pockets, the blonde man stood from his chair and headed to the office doors. He didn't look back once at the folder left behind on his desk. Not even when he closed the doors behind him.

Series taglist: @njrronaldo7 @fanfic-love-show @gabycamargo22 @fckdeusername

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