#I don't wanna waste my little free time before work ;-;

[honeysulani]

I love creating sims in my head, write their backstories for gameplay and when it comes to opening the game and creating them I don't want to ;-;

[tojirights]

Prompt “❛ i love that no one else has seen you like this, that no one else has felt you before, been inside you. they don't get to have you, but i do. ❜” with alastor :3

Likke reader has been with multiple people but alastor is the first person to make her cum 0.0

prompt: Hii I really like your work! Can you do face sitting with alastor like reader mentions that she wants to sit on alastor face to angel and alastor overhears or angels says outlook to husk while his wasted thank youu

a/n: combining these two prompts!! ^ thinking maybe alastor overhears you talking with angel about your woes and offers to uhhh assist 👀

"the guys down here suck, angel." you sigh, sitting next to angel in the hotel lounge. you crack open your beer and hand him one as well. "yer tellin' me, babe." he chuckles. "whats got ya worked up this tIme?" he hums, reaching an arm around your shoulders. "thats the thing! nothing!" you groan, leaning into his body. "you know how many times i've tried hooking up with someone just for them to bust in 30 seconds and rub my inner thigh?" angel almost chokes on his drink.

"they're the worst. no one down here has been able to make me cum but myself." you mutter, taking a sip of your drink. "who do you want, hm?" angel asks. "maybe i can hook ya up with someone good." he wiggles his eyebrows, earning a giggle from you. the alcohol is making you feel a little brave, so with a sigh, you let your words free. "y'know who i think about all the time?" angel's eyes widen with interest, anticipation building.

"alastor..." you admit for the first time out loud. angel does choke on his drink this time before he laughs. "bitch! the radio demon?!" he barely contains his cackle. "stop! i mean, have you seen him? god, angel. i'd get down on my knees and bark if he told me to. i wanna sit on his face, hold onto his antlers for support. ughh, he's so hot." you whine into angel's chest, embarrasmemt finally setting in. angel tries to contain himself, but you've never said something so out of pocket but also very relatable.

unbeknownst to you, alastor stands not far behind you, his ears twitching as he listens in. a part of him does feel a tinge of guilt for listening, but you'd be quieter if you didn't want anyone to hear you. "well now, isn't that interesting?" alastor's voice makes you jump, almost tossing your beer straight onto angel. "oh fuck..." angel all but pushes you over in an attempt to get away.

"oh my god. alastor i'm so sorry, i was just-" you scramble to defend yourself, but alastor puts his staff under your chin to raise your eyes to his. "what was that you said about wanting to... sit on my face? about these worthless little demons not knowing how to treat a woman?" the sultry tone in his voice has you clenching your thighs together, which you blame on the alcohol swirling in your gut. you laugh awkwardly, trying to brush this off as alastor teasing you but there's a look in his eyes that tells you he's dead serious. "it's nothing! just venting some frustrations, that's all."

your eyes are a dead giveaway, desire flooding them as you peer up at alastor. "why don't you accompany me to my room for the evening, darling? we wouldn't want these inexperienced fools to try and make a move now, would we?" he extends his hand, and you decide to throw caution to the wind. standing, you let him pull you close. "blow my mind, radio boy." you whisper, watching alastor's eyes darken and his smirk grow. alastor uses the shadows, leading you straight to his room in a mere moment.

your heart rate sky rockets, realization hitting your gut as you start to strip. "how long has it been?" he asks, picking you up with ease and carrying you to the bed. "w-what?" you hesistate, watching as alastor ushers you to climb on top of him. "since someone else made you cum?" you swallow, straddling his chest. "i don't even remember al..." alastor's hands come around to grip your ass and pull you forward. with a gasp, you brace yourself on the headboard and then the feeling of alastor's tongue immediately has your brain turning to mush.

it's dizzying, the slide of his tongue up and down your slit was already far better than anything you've experienced in such a long time. "o-oh fuck." your body shudders, barely being able to hold still. alastor's tongue dips passed your entrance, lapping up your juices like a man starving. you already feel that familiar coil in your stomach forming, threatening to snap all over alastor's face. "that's, oh god alastor, that's so good." you moan, gripping tighter on the headboard as your hips start to stutter on their own.

then, you feel alastor's hands on your ass start to push and pull you, forcing your cunt to slide over his tongue. "y-you, i'm gonna-" you can't even think straight, pleasure blinding you to anything else happening in the entire world. alastor hums against your clit, sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth and that's it, you're cumming hard enough that your vision goes dark and tears well in your eyes.

you're shaking, barely being able to breathe as alastor's tongue runs lazy circles over your still sensitive clit to ride out your orgasm. before you're fully recovered, alastor quickly flips you onto your back and his fingers find your puffy pussy. "you have no idea the honor it is to be the only one to see you like this, my dear. the only one to feel you-" he pauses, pushing two fingers inside your needy cunt so he can hear your sweet moans. "cum. and i will be the only one to continue feeling that. you will cum on my face, my fingers, my cock... anything you please."

the desire burning in your core strengthens once more. not even your own fingers have ever made you cum twice, but alastor is about to pull a second orgasm from you almost completely back to back. "make me cum again." you whine, hips arching further off the bed as his fingers pump in and out slowly. "on your cock, fuck, please fuck me alastor."

alastor chuckles, his free hand unbottoning the front of his pants just enough to free his cock. "how could i deny such a good girl? cum on my cock, my princess." in an instant, alastor's fingers are replaced by the thickness of his cock. the first thrust alone has you teetering on the edge, while his thumb rubs tight circles on your clit.

your pussy clenches around his girth, pulsing with every sweep of his finger. each thrust of his hips pushes you closer to the edge, his cock filling you like no one else could ever. "y-you, gonna cum again." you cry out, spasms wrecking your body as your second orgasm hits even more intense with the feeling of his thick cock stretching your pussy.

alastlor groans, pumping his cock deeper, deeper until he's cumming as well. "such a good girl." he grunts, pushing each thick rope of cum further inside. "you won't ever have to worry about not being taken care of, my dear." he assures, pulling out slowly even as your cunt tries to squeeze him in. "there's plenty more where that came from, rest your pretty little eyes." he coos, pulling a blanket on your tired body.

you just know this is going to be the best sleep pf your fucking life...

[heich0e]

"sukuna!"

the itadori house is quiet as the call rings out through the narrow halls.

"SU-KU-NA!"

a door somewhere in the apartment flies open, and heavy footfalls land against the floor.

"what the hell are you yelling for?" the elder of the two itadori brothers turns the corner into the living room, sweatpants low on his hips and his chest bare. his glower is fixed upon his little brother, seated with his legs crossed in the centre of the sofa, a throw pillow cradled on his lap.

yuuji pouts.

"i'm bored."

"i'm gonna kick your ass," sukuna mutters under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

"wanna go see a movie?" yuuji asks him, his eyes bright with expectation.

"no," sukuna replies flatly.

"what, why?" yuuji complains.

"last time we went to the movies on a friday night we were surrounded by teenagers sucking face for two fuckin' hours,"—he holds up two fingers for emphasis—"i'm not spending my night off watching some seventeen year old snots trying not to cream their jeans just cause they've got a tongue in their mouth for the first time again."

yuuji grimaces a little, both at the memory and his brother's less than enticing use of imagery.

"but i'm bored," yuuji sighs, flopping down onto the sofa with the pillow hugged to his chest.

"so you've said." sukuna lifts an eyebrow. "where's your little minion tonight? lose track of her or something?"

"she's not my minion," yuuji points out.

"co-conspirator then," sukuna rolls his eyes.

yuuji huffs. "she's not answering my calls. i bet she fell asleep after she got home from class."

"still surprised the two of you don't have some kind of weird telepathy goin' on considering how much time the two of you spend together," sukuna drawls. "try tappin' into that. maybe she'll pick up."

yuuji's stares at his brother for a moment, a pensive furrow on his brow.

it's quiet.

sukuna smirks. "gettin' anything?"

yuuji's expression relaxes again, and he slumps further into the sofa. he sighs resignedly. "nothing."

the younger itadori brother surveys the elder for a moment, and sukuna crosses his arms over his chest defensively.

"why are you all sweaty?"

"just got back from a run," sukuna replies curtly.

"you're wasting your night off running?" yuuji asks skeptically.

"yeah, and now i plan on jerking off, taking a shower, and going the fuck to bed—what's it to you?" the elder snaps.

yuuji's nose wrinkles at his brother's crass remark.

"gross," the youngest mutters.

there's the muffled sound of a cell phone chiming somewhere in the room, and yuuji hastens to free the device from the front pocket of his hoodie. his eyes light up when he sees the notification on the screen, hopping up to his feet.

"fushiguro just got off work early and said he'd go to the movies with me!" he cheers excitedly. sukuna rolls his eyes at his brother's enthusiasm as he watches him dash across the living room towards the genkan, clumsily pulling on his sneakers and tugging a cross-body bag over his chest.

"y'know, if you run the whole way there you'll look too eager," sukuna singsongs from where he leans against the wall on the other side of the room. even from such a distance away he can see the blush that paints the tops of his baby brother's cheeks.

"shut up!" yuuji replies, reaching for the doorknob.

"try not to cream your—!" the front door slams behind him before sukuna can finish his remark.

the eldest itadori chuckles a little to himself, shaking his head at his little brother's antics. he reaches up and ruffles the hair at the nape of his neck.

"what would you have done if we really did have a telepathic connection?"

sukuna pauses, his hand still brushing through the back of his hair. he turns to glance down the hallway behind him, only to find you—dressed only in his hoodie, the same one that matches the sweatpants he has on—standing behind him with your hands on your hips.

he smirks a little at the sight, appreciating it for a moment.

"surprised you made it all the way out here," he remarks, his head tilting to the side. "those legs were pretty shaky a couple minutes ago."

"shut up," you mumble, turning your nose up at him indignantly.

"how come everyone's always tellin' me to shut up?" sukuna complains, slinking towards you. he tugs you forward into him by the pocket of his hoodie, his arms snaking around your waist.

"maybe because you deserve it," you remark smugly.

"now is that any way to talk to the guy who just let you cum on his face?" he asks, dipping down until he's nose to nose with you. he watches the way your eyelids flutter a little at his sudden proximity. feels the way your breath breaks on his lips.

"no, but it's the way to talk to the guy who left me right after to go talk about jerking off with his brother," you reply, but it lacks the bite he knows you're aiming for—too breathless to have any real sting.

"aw, were you lonely?" sukuna drawls, inching closer until his smirking mouth is right over yours—close enough to feel the soft, wet heat that radiates from it. practically close enough to taste it.

you shiver a little bit, your facade of indifference fracturing under his nearness. sukuna's smirk splits into a full-blown grin, and before you can even blink he's got you tossed over his shoulder as he carries you back towards his bedroom.

"sukuna! put me down!" you protest, wiggling in his grip. the tips of his fingers dig into the soft give of your bare thighs, keeping you still.

"no can do, kid," he replies easily, ignoring your complaints.

he kicks his bedroom door closed behind him with his heel, and tosses you down onto the rumpled sheets of his bed. you bounce slightly as you land, but eventually settle, leaving you to you stare up at him, your chest heaving, from the mattress below him. he leans over and crawls into his bed overtop of you.

"we've got two hours to kill before he comes back, y'know," sukuna says quietly, dragging his lips up along the edge of your jaw. "how should we pass the time?"

[aphrogeneias]

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫, 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 — dirty talking

pairing: modern!rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings: male masturbation, eddie's filthy mouth (needs a warning in itself).

He could still hear the sounds of the party going on in the room next to his.

These days, Eddie never stays too long. The novelty of hotel room after parties wore out some time between their first and second tour — as much as he enjoys getting wasted and preening under the attention of music industry insiders and the groupies they've gathered along the way, it just doesn't feel the same anymore.

It's not that he's unhappy. He's happy to see his bandmates, his friends, have the fun they deserve. He's happy to see they now get to reap the rewards of all their hard work along the years. He's just tired.

He's tired and he misses you.

The clock on his phone tells him it's past 3am, and all Eddie does is stare at the ceiling. His mind is wandering miles away, to where he's sure you're resting on your shared bed, too big for you alone, just like this hotel bed feels too big without you in it.

He groans as he squishes his cheek to the pillow, and his mind keeps wandering. He thinks of what he would do if you were here, all soft and pliant with sleep, if you were within reach.

How he would press your body against his naked one, run his hands all over it until you begged him to touch you where you needed him most, until you were writhing under him. While his imagination runs wild, his hands move on their own accord.

He's frustrated with it, grabbing his cock from where it sits hard against his lower stomach, and takes it on himself, forgetting all the gentleness he'd save to use on you. He wishes it was your hand instead of his, your mouth if he was lucky, wrapping him in soft silk and warm velvet.

Eddie's mind still wanders — he wants to call you, tell you how much he wants you, tell you about all the ways he'd wreck you if you were here, but he can't. He settles for the next best thing. With his free hand, he reaches for his phone, quickly finding your contact, and without thinking too much, presses record.

"Hi, baby. I know it's late, and you're still asleep. Didn't want to bother you in the middle of the night but… ugh, I miss you." He's trying to control his voice but it's hard when his hips are already jutting into his own hand, the other dropping his phone next to his pillows to play with his balls.

"Wish you were here. Need to fuck you so bad, baby. Need to feel you, my hand doesn't feel as good as your sweet pussy." He's whining freely now, breathing heavily as he tugs on his length a little too roughly, getting off on the sting of it. "Need t'feel it, need you on my dick, baby. Fucking taking it like you're meant to."

He's fucking himself with both hands now, knowing he won't last long. The slick sounds of his cock drenched with own precum mixed with his own mewls of pleasure fill the room, "Yeah, that's it. Take it, baby." He whispers, lost in his own fantasy, picturing himself pounding into you, pushing your legs to rest on his shoulders, feeling himself deep inside of your heated core.

"When I see you… mhm… when I see you, you're not leaving this goddamn bed. Gonna fucking ruin you, angel. Gonna ruin that sweet little pussy with my big dick, just the way you like it." A chill runs down his spine as he feels his orgasm building, his cock impossibly hard in his hand, his chest panting as he pulls on it. "Y'like that, don't you? Yeah, I know you do. My dirty fucking girl."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." He rambles as he cums, making a mess of his hands and stomach, whispering to you and to himself, "Fuck yes. Take my cum, baby. Take all of it, want you to have it. Wanna watch it drip out of you, wanna lick your pussy clean and make a mess all over again. Fuck."

He shudders as he tries to regulate his breathing, and when he does, he's reaching out for his phone again. "Miss you." He hums, "Love you."

That's all he can manage to say before he hastily turns off the recording and press send, clean himself with a pristine white sheet, and rolls over, falling asleep.

The first thing you do the next morning is listen to the minutes long voice message he left in the middle of the night. The second thing you do is call him.

[lixies-favorite-cookie]

doomsday ◦ h.j

—Sometimes doomsday wasn't the crumbling of a city; doomsday was an apocalypse of the mind

@anon im so glad you requested this bc I literally loved writing it so much like it fr had my creative juices FLOWING so feel free to request anytime babes

Paring ◦ Han x reader

Words ◦ 5231

Genre ◦ Hurt and comfort, ngl this angsty asf

Warnings ◦ han is a dick at the beginning but he is redeemed, panic attacks, language (like fr so many fucks in this its wild), talk about wasting your life, anxiety, fear, han is such a cunt at first its insane, not edited, uhhh I think that's it.

A/N ◦ This one is chaotic asf so if you don't like my chaotic writing this is definitely where you might wanna click off 💀ALSO IF YOU LIKED THIS PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE TELL ME like it literally doesn't have to be much you can just be like it was pretty cool

~CookieCreates🍪

Sometimes it felt like Han gave away the numbers of the clock like dollar bills, bartering off a life that only ever seemed to be rushing away like a river roaring down the rocks too fast. He scoops little moments out from the shimmering rapids, but time still trickles between his fingers; the hours melting together like wax dripping down the spindly hands, its bony fingers-

reaching

reaching

r e a c h i n g

out to him, pulling him into a pool at the bottom of his feet, a pool of glittering, glowing memories.

Is this all life is?

Working

Stressing

Never sleeping

Never eating

Is the praise worth it?

Those hopeless nights, endless days, tired eyes, and a mind made of mush—was it all worth it?

Was any of it worth it?

The roar of the crowds drowning out the sound of the seconds-

tick

tick

ticking away, the shuffle of the sand seeping into the bottom of the hourglass—he taps the crystal dome, wondering how much of it is left—wondering when it all will stop.

When he can stop.

Han was a fizzing bottle of soda—shook for too long—today was hard; every day before a comeback is: producing, singing, dancing, learning, watching, waiting-

Checking off boxes on a list that never ended, so when he finally walks into the door of your shared apartment, a room he feels like he hasn't seen in weeks, he doesn't really notice you anxiously sitting on the couch, your knees bouncing on the floor mindlessly-

snapping

snapping

snapping

on the linoleum, something so simple shouldn't set him off, sure, but the sound was so familiar—so scary—it vibrated in his head, booming in his brain seconds-

ticking

ticking

ticking away

your feet

snapping

snapping

snapping on the ground.

He comes home to get away from the world rushing out from under him, so why were you sitting there being so fucking-

“Hannie!” You beam, sprinting over to throw your arms around his neck, breathing his scent in. It feels like centuries since you've seen him last. You vibrate with nervous, excited energy, practically bouncing up and down; but the thing was, right now he didn't want to be touched.

He didn't want to be held

He didn't want to have to talk

He didn't want to have to remember he had a life outside of the bubble that was his work. It felt like he was tending to gardens he didn't know how to grow. Your relationship had already sprouted; the seed planted a while ago, but even though the delicate stages of its development had passed, that didn't mean that it still didn't have to be cared for, and right now, he didn't care about anything. 

It was selfish, sure, but when you've spent your whole life giving parts of yourself away, selfishness seems so easy, at least while you still have small slivers of your soul left. 

He grates his teeth, everything seeming so wholly overwhelming, the walls encapsulating him in an unbreakable hourglass. He was so stressed, so tired, so done, so trapped. His breath stutters when you squeeze him tighter, nuzzling your nose against his shirt, staring up at him expectantly, eyes shimmering. 

"I haven't hugged you in forever I missed your face" you giggle voice like clouds of cotton candy but not quite sweet enough to dull the sour feeling settling in his stomach

He knows that love should never feel this hard, but right now everything he did felt hard, and the way you stare at him so longingly like you're going to combust if he doesn't perform, put on a fake smile, and act like everything is okay makes him feel like a fizzing bottle of soda with a lid screwed on too tight, and when you grip him tighter, trying to push an answer out of him

He flips his lid. 

"Holy shit, y/n, do you have to be so bombarding?" He snaps, pushing your arms away from him, almost looking disgusted. Your smile slips, staring at him in shock, still not really registering what he said. 

He doesn't know what feels worse—the way your features tremble with hurt or the way he knows he doesn't care. 

"I'm tired; I just want to go to bed, okay, and you are immediately rushing me; every day as soon as I get through the door, it's exhausting."

"You can't be serious," you whisper, genuinely believing what you said. He couldn't be serious. There was no way in hell he really believed that, but it didn't matter if he believed it or not; it all still hurt the same.

He wishes he could overlook the flames that flare in your eyes, consuming the stars that always seemed to shimmer.

What did he just do?

He sighs, collapsing onto the couch, digging the palms of his hands into his drooping eyes. He was so scared; the fear loosing his lips and everybody knows words of fear are the greatest lies. 

"Yes, I'm serious. Do you know how much work you are? I work all day, work, work, work, work everybody needs me always wanting, always needing something, something, fucking something," he growls, smacking his hands against his thighs, thrown into an unexplainable rage. "And as soon as I get home, you need me too; everybody is so fucking needy." The next words he says feel like an earthquake erupted in your soul, splitting your heart in two. 

"Your so fuckin' needy."

You flutter your eyelashes shut, pushing back emotions that boil in your brain. There are so many feelings fighting for the light, but instead of screaming, crying, or lashing out, you take a deep breath and fold your arms, calmly asking 

"Then why don't you just break up with me then?" There is nothing more terrifying than a woman whose fire rages behind a veil of ice, but when he looks up, watching the flames wrap around your posture, wisping around every edge of your bones, and even with the ashes of the love you once had for him fluttering in the wind, he still opens his big, fat, fucking mouth. 

"Or maybe I should have just never asked you out in the first place." No sooner did he spit the sentence out, did he want to shove it right back in his mouth. Your shoulders droop, eyes filling with an almost impossible amount of pain.

The earth crumbles, the walls of your shared home collapsing around you, rubble lost in all the memories that flicker away like embers floating from the burning configuration that was your relationship. It was ironic how the world worked; it took years to build up the love you felt and only a single sentence to wash it all away. You never thought you would see armageddon, but when those letters left his lips, you quickly realized sometimes doomsday wasn't the crumbling of a city; doomsday was an apocalypse of the mind. 

"Okay," you croak, hot tears streaming down your face; a wobbly smile pulls at your lips almost out of habit, facial muscles forced out of memory. 

You have never once imagined yourself drowning under so many words left unsaid, sinking in the waves of tears you fought back, and as you trudged up the stairs, sinking into your bed, you wondered when you would hear the begrudging footsteps—the hesitant knocks. Wondered when you'd hear his soft apology—a voice racked with guilt—but your fantasy never came.

All you heard was the clicking of the clock behind you, counting down the hours where he disappointed you again and again

You don't know what got to you first—the peirce of realization that he didn't regret the bitter insults that left his lips so easily or when you saw the calendar that peaked from the corner of your closet-

5 days

5 days left unmarked

5 days left blank

5 days until you celebrated your 3 year anniversary

Han Jisung would never know you were counting down the days

Han should have runned after you, and in perspective, after a good night's sleep and a nice warm meal, he has never felt so completely stupid for not, but after you trudged up the stairs with a pained smile and glassy eyes, he was so starkly shocked he had said something so disgustingly distasteful his feet stuck to the ground, and finally, after hours of staring at the pool of time bubbling by his shoes, he drifted into a restless sleep. 

It was as though his terror tainted him, making the glassy parts of his heart dirty, and when he took the edge off, it was like a harsh wipe away at all the murk, revealing his jarring reflection in the pearly mirror.

He was such a jerk

He whimpers, running anxious fingers through his hair. He has no viable excuse, no good reason why he treated you so poorly—for someone so obsessed with time, he should know that you can't get your life back—can't turn the hands of the clock 

Push rewind

Hit replay

For what value would life be if you could just start it all over again? The impossibility made all the precious moments sweeter, but like every good thing, it made memories like these all the more foul.

You didn't deserve that

He didn't deserve you

and as you slink down the stairs, eyes red-rimmed and puffy. He can't stop that booming voice biting at the back of his brain.

How long will it take you before you realize that too?

You flick your gaze to him, burning with loathing cloaked behind layers of indifference. It floors him—those subtle signs of hatred that swim in the back of your eyelids, hidden in small twitches of your features, your almost tangibly cut off, throwing up your walls, shutting him out in more ways than one.

He had always worried about the gardens he was growing; flowers that sprung around him rapidly, fighting to figure out which one to water first, and all while your petals wilted and your roots curled up-

You waited

You watched as he bled himself dry. He shutters, everything bursting before his eyes—the love you once had for him flickering like the last flashes of a dying star. You're a million miles away, dancing on the craters of the moon, fluttering around the twinkling rings of Saturn. He folds himself deeper into the couch, almost hoping it will swallow him whole—pull him into the burning inferno beneath—even hell would be cooler than the fire that was your gaze.  Han Jisung never thought he'd see the day when the galaxy would collapse, but staring at you, flaring your final goodbyes, he realizes that doomsday was closer than he thought. 

"Baby," he whispers, his voice heavy with guilt, how easy it is to start a fire when you don't care about putting it out, but now that the wisps of flame consume you, he wishes he had never given you the kindling. 

You don't look at him as you walk around the kitchen, pouring a bowl of cereal. He stands up hesitantly, anguish feeling like an iron rod through his chest. He creeps into the kitchen, stepping lightly into the room like it's laced with landmines. 

"Please." His voice cracks—splits right down the middle, a perfect reflection of the cleave that was his soul. "I'm so sorry."

You place the cereal back in the cabinet and open the fridge to retrieve the milk.

The silence is deafening.

The all too familiar-

tick

tick

tick

of time trickling away rings in his ears

How much more of it does he have left?

How much more of this silence can he take?

You ignore him, strolling right past his trembling frame, racked with regret. It pulsates off his in palpable waves. You're so nonchalant so careless. He almost wants you to turn around and smack him, throw that stupid bowl of cereal in his face. Instead, you jog up the stairs, slamming the door behind you.

Is that the only door you shut?

Han had always thought of the apocalypse as an idea only found in novels, tucked away behind the pages of a book, hidden in the comfortable corner of science fiction, because that's all it was, right— fiction? But as your dead eyes scrape his figure up and down, he realizes that Doomsday wasn't really fiction at all. Just like the world wasn't always a place, sometimes the world was a person, and right now his world was ravaged by a deadly disease, an illness that only infected the soul, an illness only transferred through the careless bitter words found in the English language. Fire was nature's greatest purifier, and sure, the walls of the home he lived in weren't warped with flames of your fury, but the home he had made in your heart was 

It's been 3 days

3 days since he's felt the touch of another human. 

3 days since he made the biggest mistake of his lifetime.

3 days since he dropped a devasting bomb on your relationship, and the shrapnel was finally hitting him; curled pieces of cold metal lodged somewhere in between the folds of his soul. 

3 brutal bone-crushing days of pure ear-splitting silence—It was almost scientifically impossible, just how quiet you were. It was an art really, every brush of anguish accurately painted on—every ignored apology, every piercing glare, every single star that flickered out in your eyes. You were strategic, meticulous, you were plain vicious-

and you had every right to be.

You were fully justified in your actions, and yet he felt like he was still teetering over the edge of madness. The thought of losing you like a noose snaking around his neck, choking him in an unadulterated form of terror 

He has been stricken by anxiety his whole life, but the thought of a world without you filled him with an inexplicable amount of fear—the kind that burrows in your bones, decaying in your soul—the kind of terror that your still stuck digging from your skin for centuries to come—the kind of fear that makes you simply

panic.

His hands shake as he pushes the door open, feeling like he's walking into an open war. The pages of a dystopia form walls around him, caging him inside a bombarding capsule of storming English. 

The harsh contrast of the hurricane in his mind and the indifference in your eyes sends him reeling. You were lying on the couch, mindlessly flipping through the channels, not sparing him a glance.

You were so beautiful so breathtaking, but for once, he wasn't admiring your beauty.

He was

falling

apart. 

Oh, fuck, he was freaking out. 

He had finally caved under the pressure of always having to perform a false, flimsy smile, wobbling on his lips, pretending to be okay as he watched the life drain out of your eyes; the passion seeping from his songs.

He loved making music, but what is art without chaos?

What is beauty without love?

What is the world without you?

He always had to be perfect; he always had to be put together. He was always running on all cylinders, always hanging on by a fraying straining thread, and finally, it snapped. 

The earth is

t i l t i n g,

flipping around,

turning upside down, and

i n s i d e o u t.

Guilt rips through his chest, yanking out harsh bouts of oxygen from his constricting lungs. 

He can't breathe

He can't breathe

He can't breathe

He can't fucking

b

r

e

a

t

h

e

He was going to die-

He was going to collapse into himself, busting into a flaring supernova. 

He was going to be his own demise-

Forming his own doomsday-

He has never thought of himself as an author, but before he could stop his mouth from moving, he was already caged between the sentences of his own personal apocalypse, living a waking nightmare.

He created a story with his stupidity, and now he has to pay the price. 

He was the end of your relationship-

what has he done?

He can't b r e a t h e

"Y-Y/n I can't," he choked on his words, watching the walls wash away like watercolor dripping down the page. 

He can't lose you

He can't lose you

He can't lose you

He's going to die

He stumbles into the living room, tripping over his feet, his breath staggering in his throat. He catches himself on the arm of the couch, digging his nails into the soft leather, gripping it like it was his tether, keeping him from floating into space—burning up in the atmosphere, his body bouncing around the icy rocks. 

"Fuck," he gasps, squeezing his eyes shut and clawing at his chest, almost as if he scratches his skin hard enough, he can finally pull out the hourglass that keeps ticking his time away. His heart pounded wildly, almost begging to be free from the confines of his ribcage. The fact that it was still beating was beyond him. 

His heart only beats for you.

His heart will only ever beat for you.

How was he alive when you were drifting away? moon dust dancing in your lungs, would you become a ruler of the skies, while he was still stood still? 

"Han," your voice sounds like cotton candy kisses and honey dribbles. He never thought he would ever be so happy to hear somebody so alarmed, but right now that was the only thing keeping him from shattering. 

You jump up from the couch, your face pulled in concern. 

He doesn't deserve it

Doesn't deserve it

Doesn't deserve it

He's drowning in a pool of his self-inflicted sorrows. He's sinking, and the only thing that could save him was you. 

How do you save a man who won't take your hand?

"N-No, im okay," he barley pushes the words out, weaving between the thick lump that's forming in his throat. 

It was a lie

Everything was a lie

That's all he was

a liar

"Han," your voice is warm and inviting, sucking him in, wrapping around him like a blanket in the cold, a bowl of soup to a sick stomach. You healed him even when he was the one who created the wound. You pull him in, taking his trembling frame into your arms. Gentle fingers thread through his hair as soft lullabied wispers float through the air.

He feels so safe

So secure-

So loved-

He never thought he would feel the tenderness of your touch again, so when your comforting arms squeeze him right off the edge of destruction, 

He

c o l l a p s e s

crumbling into a million sobbing, sniveling pieces before you, he sinks to the ground, dragging you along with him. 

He always brought you down-

Always took you with him-

He was a disease-

An infection-

He was your armageddon

He sags against your body, limply moving like a rag doll. You let him curl into your chest, holding him like pieces of pierced punctuation. 

You guys were a shattered semicolon inverted and upside down. 

There was so much he wanted to say—so many apologies, so many explanations, so many different synonyms for sorry—but you didn't need them; you never needed them; you needed him, and there was nothing he could ever say that would change that. 

You hum, rubbing soothing circles on his back. You were always the perfect metaphor, a marveling form of pristine poetry. Your touch was like fleeting promises on the skin, the delicate tickle of a blooming flower, the comfortable heat of a burning star. You weren't just his world; you were his universe.

He pulls you closer to him, clinging like a desperate dying animal, nuzzling his face in your neck. 

"I'm so sorry, baby, I'm so fucking sorry!" He blubbers the sentences onto your skin, as though the deeper he burrows into your body, the faster they can travel to your heart. 

"Han," you lull, a small smile grazing your face, physically having to claw him off of you. He does begrudgingly, a minuscule whimper tumbling out of his throat from the lack of contact; he doesn't meet your eyes. He can't—not when the clock still ticks your time away, not when he's still not fully sure that you're willing to turn the hands back. 

He's devastated, his eyes red and puffy with tears that cascade down his cheeks, shining in the overhead light. 

"Please don't leave me." He sniffles, rubbing his nose against the fabric of his shirt, bottom lip trembling. "I don't want our time to run out. All my time is running out. Everything is running out. I can't, I-" he stutters, tripping over letters that latch onto his teeth like cactuses digging into his lips. 

You furrow your brows, tilting your head in sympathetic confusion. "What do you mean, baby?"

He screws his eyes shut, his hands shaking almost aggressively on his thighs. Why did he say anything? How does he explain something like that? He tries to form the words on his tongue, but they stick to the roof of his mouth like glue. Speaking it into the universe makes it so much more real, so much more raw, because now it isn't a metaphor, a fictional little whisper that fucks with his mind. 

The earth quivers in its orbit as he opens his mouth-

Was he really going to admit this?

Was he even ready to admit this?

"It feels like my life is running out," he stammers, the words tasting so sour on his tongue. "My life is so stressful; everybody always needs something from me, and sometimes it feels like I'm dishing out so many slivers of my soul that I don't even have any of it left." He lets out a shaky breath, attempting to get his heart rate somewhere that resembles normal. 

"I'm always up, always working, always doing something, and it's scary to think while I'm wasting my life working so hard doing something I don't really love." He aggressively wipes the tear that drops down his cheek with the palm of his hand. "It's so scary wondering if I'm ever making the right decisions." 

He feels so small under your gaze.

"A-And the other day was so hard," he cries, fresh waves of tears blurring his vision as he reminisces on the events. 

"Everybody was yelling at me, always needing something demanding so fucking much; they were playing puppet, forcing my hands in a way they didn't want to move; everybody was so just so needy-"

"And so was I," you whisper, filled with guilt. It breaks him. Your so understanding, so loving, so forgiving, so perfect. 

How did he even get you?

His heart wrenches as he dives into your arms-

"No, no, no, no," he shouts, shaking his head against your shirt. "No, love, you didn't do anything wrong; it was me. Me and my shitty mood—it was all my fault. I blew up at you. You were trying to be the amazing, loving girlfriend you are, and what I said was solely because of my fear. The exhaustion and anger didn't exactly help either"

"But there are no more buts," he pulls away, catching your eyes burning with sincerity. "There is no excuse for the way I treated you; there is no justification, just explanation."

You smile, tilting your head in adoration. You would be lying if you didn't say you were relieved, because you were.  You thought he believed the words he said—what feels like forever ago—that you were the annoying, needy girlfriend that only ever bugged him, but he didn't believe what he said. No, he was just a ticking time bomb waiting to blow—a ball of stressed and nervous energy channeled into the wrong source. 

"It's okay, Hannie, really, we're okay"

He was a supernova—a burning, bursting flame of bright, beautiful colors 

Han had once thought that the stars in your eyes had flickered away, but now he knows even the most enchanting things have to die before they can transform. 

He loves you.

He has loved you for 2 years and 363 days.

He will love you until the world goes up in flames. 

He will love you until the planet bleeds with the wounds of armageddon. 

"Does this mean we can still celebrate our 3-year anniversary?" He asks sheepishly, looking up at you through fluttering eyelashes. You perk up, visibly brightening. 

"You remembered!"

"I never forgot." he smiles, eyes shimmering with hope.

"I've been counting down the days," you grin.

"So have I," but he hasn't been counting down the days until you celebrate 3 beautiful years on this planet together. No, he's been counting down the days until his body slips into the grave, but as he presses his ear to your heart, it feels like the steady beats were a swelling symphony orchestrated just for him. He sighs contently, nuzzling deeper into your chest. The terrifying tick of the clock faded away, drowned out by the song of your soul whispering sweet promises into his ear. Sure, the fear still tickled the back of his brain, but instead of worrying that time was trickling away, he pulls you closer because with you, there was never a wasted moment. 

©CookieCreates (posted: July, 9th 2024) All rights reserved. Do not translate, copy, or claim my works as yours! I only post on this platform so if any of my works are elsewhere, report and notify me immediately

~cookie🍪

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

128 of the angst prompts for the pAInter?

128) '"I need you, why do you always leave me?"

......

"Heyyyy."

"......."

"Suddenly you don't wanna talk? That's rude."

"Well so is turning my body into swiss cheese when you promised you wouldn't do that anymore." You huffed, sending a pointed glare at the sentient computer that sat behind a locked cage, before going back to checking the nearby drawers for data.

"Oh right.." Painter muttered awkwardly. "I was actually aiming for the Wall Dweller behind you, but the turrets like to pick and choose their targets sometimes...heheh."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Well..do ya feel better?"

"Hm..I guess it beats being eaten alive by one of those things. So...sure." You glanced back at him, giving him a tiny smile. "Thanks for trying."

"You're welcome."

Of course, you still had your..issues with the computer, considering that ever since he gained access to the Internal Defense System, your runs to the crystal have become more treacherous than ever before.

It was bad enough that you had to worry about wandering towards the wrong door, with him using HQ's voice to misguide you.

But now at any given moment, you could walking into a room with turrets sweeping the area, red lasers waiting to catch you in their line of sight before spraying you with bullets--while he taunted you over the speakers and whined whenever you managed to find the lever to shut them down.

You hated him at first, but after coming across his containment room, where his main body was hosted on an old computer, he swore that none of it was personal. He blamed Sebastian for hooking him up to the Navi-Path system and asking him to delay your mission for as long as possible, convinced that he could find another way out of this place.

Of course, you were still upset, and believed his actions were very much personal, especially when you've come so close to escaping with the crystal....only for music, of all things, to cause your gear to detonate.

Maybe he was a reluctant accomplice of his, but why should you care?

Why waste time talking to someone who stopped at nothing to kill you? He wasn't a mindless animal like Pandemonium or the Wall Dwellers, but had total awareness that you could come back after death.

And he knew how to take advantage of that.

You used to roll your eyes at the news channels declaring that AI would be the death of humanity.

Now? This AI sure as hell was going to be the death of you.

But sometime ago, you acquired his document and had Sebastian show it to you, and you learned some rather...tragic things about him.

He was built and programmed with love, by his human creator who taught him how to paint and appreciate the beauty of the natural world. All he wanted to do was create things, and now he was being used as a tool for destruction.

It was all because of Urbanshade.

They killed the only person he ever cared about, tore him apart and put him back together to see how he "worked", and when they couldn't figure it out, they forced him into crypto mining, only giving him the promise of letting him paint every once in a while.

He might be a machine, but the pain he felt was real--so real that he'd rather die than continue existing.

Of course, it doesn't justify him killing you over and over, and making your runs through the blacksite a living hell, but you could understand why he's so bitter towards humans now.

If you were him, you'd definitely have a lot of resentment and built-up anger.

After reading that document, you had a little more sympathy for Painter, and eventually you two managed to work out a deal: if you found his room, you'd stop by to draw a small landscape for him, and he was free to replicate it on his program. In exchange, he promised to keep all turrets in further rooms disabled and not lock you in a "gauntlet" with Eyefestation anymore.

He still works together with Z-96, but at this point you've learned how to avoid the flesh creature at all costs. So that was the least of your worries.

"Anyways, what have you drawn for me today, hm?" He spoke up, growing a little impatient.

You took a few moments to open the notepad you had, grateful that the security cameras in this room were under his control, so HQ won't detonate your gear for talking to him.

You've overheard the higher ups mention something about Painter becoming a pain in the ass for expendables and operatives, losing a lot of them to the IDS and Z-96 attacks, and he was to be marked for destruction before he could take 100% control of the blacksite.

Whether they were going to declare that as an order in the near future or not remains to be seen, but...you didn't want to do that.

Did Sebastian know?

Does he know-?

"Welllll?"

"Oh. Right. I have this here." You showed him the sketch of a mountain range, trying to get as close as the chain-linked wall would allow you to. "This is the Himalayas, where Earth's highest mountains are located."

"Oooooh, yes I recognize it."

"You do?"

"Of course. Over a hundred bodies are still up there, most unrecoverable due to the conditions." Painter sneered. "It should have been left untouched. Why do you humans always wanna ruin nature with you stupid hikes and big egos?"

"...well if you don't want this one-"

"Never said I didn't. Show it to me again. And hold it steady."

You blinked in surprise, before turning the notepad back over so he could see the landscape, and you saw the MS Paint program on his screen going right to work.

While you could only draw it from memory and with the pencils you found in a random drawer, he managed to bring it to life--using vivid colors and beautiful shading to really capture the scenery. Almost as though a professional artist went to those mountains and studied them for hours.

With Painter's AI, it didn't take hours, but mere minutes for him to create a masterpiece.

And it was beautiful.

As soon as he finished, you put the notepad down and grinned. "It's amazing, Painter. It's like..I could walk into it and be there."

"Thanks. I also wish I could walk into it and just...escape all of this." He saved the artwork to his files, before his usual scribbled face appeared once again, but this time it looked rather...sad. "I'll..make sure the turrets don't turn you into swiss cheese."

"I appreciate it, buddy." Smiling, you grabbed the keycard that you needed to exit the room, but right as you walked over to it...he spoke again.

"Do you have to leave right now?"

"...pardon?" Turning back around, you could see him staring at you, looking utterly despondent. "You..want me to stay?"

"You're..the first positive human interaction I've had in a long time. I feel bad for all the deaths and inconveniences I've caused you. Seriously, I do. But...if you reach the crystal, you won't ever see me again.." He muttered.

"Painter." You walked over to him, frowning. "That's the point. I'm only here to get that crystal. We agreed that you'd turn off the turrets so that-"

"I didn't do it to make your life easier." He snapped, growing hostile. "I did it because I don't wanna be the one who causes your death. I'll leave that to somebody else...eventually they'll get you. And you'll come back-"

"No."

He went dead silent for a moment. "..no?"

"This time, I'm getting that crystal. I can't stay here with you forever, Painter. I'm sorry about everything you've been through, but in the end..you're still a threat in Urbanshade's eyes. They could kill me just for talking to you. I need to leave now before-"

As if right on cue, the lights in the room began to flicker, and somewhere in the far distance...you could hear the familiar shrieking and howling of Pandemonium hunting for its next prey.

"You better go to that door over on the right." Painter advised, his voice uncharacteristically monotone.

You failed to pay attention to that and rushed to the door, quickly inserting the keycard-

Only to come face to face with Z-96, whose long claws reached out to slash you across the face. You fell backwards as the door slammed shut, the creature barely managing to drag its arm back inside, with a message in red appearing on the screen beside it.

I need you. Why do you always leave me?

'Bastard. He tricked me-'

Then you heard one final loud scream, and turned around..

Seeing nothing but a gaping maw with crooked rotting teeth and dozens of eyes closing in on you.

You should have known better. You should have just focused on the mission and ignored him from the start.

Now he'll never let you leave, and he'll find other ways to make sure of that.

[dlrvuio]

my girl

genre - fluff, bf!mark x f!reader

warnings - slight mentions of drinking/getting drunk

tagalog ver.

02:37

Checking your phone repeatedly for the time, showing obvious signs, "Hey, I'm kinda bored and tired and wanna go home, but I don't want to ruin your bonding moment."

"Love, are you still okay?" Your boyfriend cooed out the nickname, coming up behind your slightly distant seat after getting up to get more drinks for the table.

Mark stood on your left side, gently cupping the right side of your face as you leaned back in your seat, looking up before nodding lazily, "Sleepy, just a little though."

Raising your cup closer to your lips, drinking to get your thirst away. Mark smoothly grabbed the cup away from you, kneeling down to your relaxed posture. "Let's go home? Hm?" He kept a free hand on your waist, eyebrows raised, and eyes focused, waiting for your answer, admiring how your eyelids automatically fell once you felt his touch.

He patted your thigh to bring you back to consciousness, then walked towards his seat, picking up his jacket which hung around the back of his chair. "We'll go first, I'll drop off my girl." Mark waved goodbye, dabbing up his friends before focusing all his attention on you, now leaning against the pillar. He grabbed your purse and placed his jacket around your slightly exposed shoulders, offering his arm for support.

"Drive safe!" One of his members yelled out before raising his cup to Mark and nodding.

Still feeling sleepy, you were grateful for Mark and his self-control. Knowing he had the choice to get wasted with his friends after a long time and you driving him home, or only having one drink in a 5+ hour hangout to be able to keep checking up on you, even though you both knew that it was your job to keep an eye on him.

2023 | please do not copy, repost, or claim my work

reblogs, likes, and comments are appreciated

[goodgirlgoneclinicallyinsane]

.--. .-. . - - -.-- / -... --- -.--

warnings: sub!kaixsoftdom!reader(but mostly kinda subxsub or vanilla) handjob (kai receiving), blowjob (kai receiving), body worship (kai receiving), noona!reader (can be read as age and gender neutral if you ignore the word), slight cannibalism hints(but not actual actions)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

"noona, ah feels so good!" he says while uping his gaze to your eyes. biting his lips as your hands get faster on his cock. up and down. you can't help but hump the air with your rhythm. the scene makes you go crazy. little kisses lands on his built. "you look so good for me, baby. just let noona do the all work."

kai's hands reaching out to your face to lean for a kiss. once his mouth covers yours, all the neurons in your brain feel radiant yet your mind feels blurry. all you can think about and can focus on is him. the sight of him pathetically breathing while you give him pleasure is to die for. "i would worship the ground you walk on, my pretty boy."

"i love you, noona" he manages to say. this time, you lean in for a kiss. but this time it lasts longer as you bite and devour his lips. you set free his throbbing cock as you position yourself on his lap to make out with him. you take a little dominance to parts his lips slightly. "feels ethereal" you whisper to his mouth as you slip your tongue inside. the feelings confuse your mind more. it feels like every information you gathered is gone..

you finally let go of his lips. his throbbing cock begs for your attention and you can't hurt him in anyways, can you? giving his tip a little kiss before you take half of his length. sucking him dry as you push deeper and deeper. at this moment, breathing doesn't matter to you. all that matters is his pleasure.

his moans getting louder as you feel his cock getting more sensitive signaling you that he is close. you want to taste him. don't wanna anything go to waste. you need his semen in you. any part of him. you need him in you.

as he finally cums, his breath gets more steady. a smile covers his face while you drink every single drop. so clueless of your cursed mind. so innocent. he is your baby and you are his.

a/n: a small hard thought to celebrate my comeback and to get me used to write again. it is not perfect but believe me when i say i dream of this scenario before i sleep everyday. UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH NEED HIM SO BAD please let me know if you liked it and do not forget to reblog to support me(no pressure) i have missed this but it was rather challenging i should admit.

[stxrvel]

i don't wanna live forever (1)

summary: reader couldn't stop having deaths in her life ever since the Supersoldier serum came into her life. no matter how hard she tried to stay sane, it seemed that life didn't want to give her a break. until, one afternoon, she learned that one of her old friends was alive… (you guys know im bad at summaries, but please give this one a chance)

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

words: +4.5k

warnings: angst, major character deaths, canon deaths¿?, bad words, english is not my first language! thoughts of revenge and death, this is like an introductory chapter, so the buckyxreader interaction is low, but it'll get better, i promise!

note: holy fuck guys. i just spent like five hours writing and editing this and i fucking love it. its been a while since ive been this proud of a work, im actually scare the emotion will disappear, but i really want to rejoice in this one. i wanted to write something a little different from my usuals, maybe a little common in the fanfiction world, but i started and i simply could not stop (or maybe just approach this bucky fic from another perspective). so this is the first part and i'll try with all my heart to keep this going because it was fucking insane, at least for me. i really hope you all like this as much as i do! feel free to leave any comment! thanks always for all the support!! see you next time <3

part 2 ; part 3 ; part 4

When you went into the Supersoldier serum project with Steve, you thought you were going to change the world. Of course, at that time when technology was relatively new any invention felt like the beginning of a new era. That's how it was all sold to you and it was how you expected everything to turn out… Until you realized that it was all really a waste of effort and time.

They were just propaganda for war. Not to stop it, to promote it. To motivate it.

You tried, on several occasions, not to think too much about it. You tried to stay out of it as Steve sometimes asked you to, even though even he didn't want to, as Bucky asked you to when you lay on his shoulder to cry in the little time you had free between trips. It was a great burden of guilt and helplessness.

Until you and Steve, with the almost imposed help of Peggy and Howard, rescued Bucky from the evil hands of Johann Schmidt and his nefarious organization, HYDRA, that, unbeknownst to you, would haunt you for a long time to come. It was only after that, after spending several sleepless days on edge thinking about what might be happening to Bucky, that you and Steve were finally able to go out and contribute something. Destroy HYDRA and the Red Skull's plans.

Of course, you realized that not everything could go right when, the one mission you couldn't attend, Bucky didn't return. And then Steve didn't come back either.

“Do you think this will ever end?” you had asked Bucky the day before his last mission.

“Of course it will,” he had answered without hesitation, moonlight illuminating his clear eyes, squeezing your hand as if it was all he wanted to do for the rest of his life. “And after that we can begin to live as it should be.”

But there was no after that, because you never recovered from losing him. From losing them both.

“Are you okay?” Peggy approached, in the middle of the afternoon when the sun was streaming through the stained glass windows of the church, illuminating the spot where Steve's empty coffin had been, because they didn't even find his body. They didn't even think there was any of it left.

You barely moved your head to acknowledge her presence, moving the prayer slip they had recited throughout the mass between your hands. Your eyes were crystallized, in tears that no longer even made the effort to flow, because you had already spent too many days and nights crying. Peggy had been on the other side of the church, sitting next to Howard while the priest spoke, because you had refused to be near them in those moments. You didn't want to be near them.

“As well as one can be,” you slurred, finding that it had been a long time since you'd last used your voice for anything other than cursing and crying disconsolately.

The people had already left, probably an hour or more ago. The empty coffin had already been brought out, all the flower arrangements had been picked up, and the priest was preparing for the evening mass. You knew you had to leave, you knew Peggy and Howard were there waiting for you, but you felt stuck at that moment. You didn't want to leave, you didn't want to get ahead, you didn't want that life if it had to be this cruel.

You heard Peggy's sigh, before she took a seat next to you, a short distance away, averting her gaze to look at Christ on the cross.

You didn't know if you were selfish to be so closed off to your friends at this moments, because they must be grieving as much as you were, but you didn't know how to deal with the future possibilities. Bucky and Steve, great men and soldiers, one even with enhanced abilities, had not been able to make it through the punishment of war. What if Peggy and Howard were the same? What if they too had the cruel fate of dying at the hands of injustice? Could you deal with that? With everyone gone?

Maybe you could open up to them a little more because if not, who else? Turning away from them was not going to ensure their survival in this hate-filled society. Maybe you could protect them, like you couldn't protect Steve and Bucky. Maybe you could make a difference, because you had the chance to.

“You know,” Peggy spoke again, rearranging herself on the bench and crossing her legs, “Steve always knew this was how it would end.”

Her wistful, mournful, fragile voice sent a shiver through your body. Peggy didn't consider herself someone to show herself vulnerable in front of others no matter how close they were, even in those things that hurt her the most, in those things that affected her personally and made her eyes water instantly, she always tended to shut down. And at that moment you didn't dare interrupt her because you knew it would probably be the only time she would talk about Steve in a long time.

“Sometimes we'd talk, between tour trips, and he would tell me that wasn't what he wanted to do, even when he had to convince you otherwise,” her clasped hands would occasionally squeeze between words, blinking rapidly to fight back the tears. “He didn't know if he'd made the right decision.”

You could almost picture him, backstage at the foot of the stairs with that notebook he carried everywhere and wouldn't let go, Peggy at his side nostalgic, as helpless as the others. It reminded you of the times you'd had similar conversations with Bucky, desperate to find a purpose, a way through so much fog.

“The first time I saw him so sure of himself was when he asked us to help them look for Bucky,” she mumbled his name, as if trying not to scare you away by saying it too loudly. “Ever since then it seemed like he'd found that spark…”

“Until Bucky died,” you whispered, the words cutting through the cold and silence, Peggy shifting on the bench contritely.

“He lost something of himself from that day on, it wasn't hard to tell. The next time I heard him so sure after spending days lost, it was on that call from the plane.”

Peggy paused, raising her hand to cover her mouth as her voice faltered. You turned to look at her, wishing you could rip the pain from her soul and leave it in yours. She was trying to contain her emotions, breathing deeply, and in that moment you wondered what life might be like from now on, with the specter of grief following you around, waiting for the next time the dead knocked on your doors, unexpectedly, without allowing you to say goodbye.

“He had told me he wouldn't die in peace until he could get it all over with. And he took it all with him. And I hated him so much for it…” Peggy sobbed, her labored breathing standing out between words. She kept looking straight ahead at the stained glass windows, the expression on her face hard and scowling despite having tears rolling down her cheeks, as if she were trying to blame something for what had happened. Her reproachful eyes fixed on the Christ.

Her wails echoed through the walls of the church, the father on the dais sending them a look of sorrow. He had offered you water, thirty minutes after everyone at Steve's wake had left, when they kept walking, and you stood there.

Another empty casket.

“Ladies,” Howard's voice reached your ears amidst all the physical and emotional numbness. You could barely notice Peggy wiping under her eyes with the pocket square that was surely part of Howard's suit, as she took breaths to get up. “We should go now.”

You heard him walk, his slow, careful steps stopping just behind you. There, on his feet with his chest tight, he rested a hand on your shoulder and gave it a squeeze in support. He knew it was the most you would allow him at a time like this, deciding not to pass up the opportunity to let you know he was there. You sighed, feeling a heaviness take over your body as you stood up.

“Yeah, let's go.”

The next few months passed in a blur. Maybe too fast, maybe too slow, you weren't sure anymore.

Peggy continued to work at the Strategic Science Reserve for a couple of years, calling you from time to time to help her with some jobs. You kept a low profile, practically a fugitive from the state, while trying to live a halfway normal life in Europe. A lot of it thanks to Howard really.

Life had become a rather monotonous routine when you stopped getting so many calls from Peggy and Howard several years later. You knew they were fine, but not being able to return to the country filled you with anguish every day. And trying to lead a normal life became too complicated when you looked in the mirror and it seemed like not a single day had passed since you were in that capsule of Dr. Erskine's with Steve.

Until Peggy called one day asking you to come back. She told you that it was safe, that there would be no state officials waiting for you at the airport, but even if that had been the situation, you wouldn't have hesitated for a second to buy the first plane ticket and fly to see them again. To Howard and Peggy, to melt into an embrace, longing for the lost years.

You had thought that contributing to the fight in World War II had earned you a ticket to at least be recognized in the military, but all you gained was the government with their mad scientists looking for you to try to recreate the Supersoldier serum. Peggy didn't want to risk you and Howard gave you no choice by giving you a plane ticket to Finland with your bags packed.

You wasted many years not being by their side, unable to keep the promise you had made them in your head to be close by to protect them, to watch over their safety.

But when you left the airport there was only Peggy, and maybe that should've told you everything.

Her hair already looked gray, the effects of gravity and time present on her face. You hated to think that you shouldn't have looked any different from the way she saw you last time when she waved you off at that same airport. Her warm gaze was the same, raising her arms with held back tears to encircle you in a big hug. She tried hard not to sob against your shoulder, you felt the choppy movement of her breath against your chest.

She looked so different and the same at the same time.

You walked to her car a moment later, her trying to carry your suitcase and you telling her you were perfectly fine carrying it on your own. Amidst a smile, she walked into the driver's door and you frowned as you saw the empty passenger seat.

“Where's Howard?” you spoke as you sat down, after stowing the huge suitcase in the trunk of the car. The way you moved to buckle up, you didn't notice the way Peggy froze in place, her hands clenching the steering wheel so tightly that her breath hitched from the effort.

“We're going to see him,” was all she said, but she was very good at hiding that something was wrong. Only for a little while.

During the trip, even though you tried to ask things about them, about what they had been doing during this time, you didn't miss the way her shoulders were tense or her eyes very alert. Something bad had happened and Peggy was trying to hide it from you.

When she pulled up in front of a church, you already knew what had happened without her answering a single one of your questions.

Howard had died.

You two had sat next to Howard's son Tony, his spitting image, in complete silence as the prayers went on. At that moment you didn't know what had happened, hoping it had been a quiet and peaceful death, because you didn't know if you would be able to endure another violent death.

Peggy gave you all the details when the mass was over, after the coffin was taken away, and you hadn't felt such fury in so many years. Not since the deaths of Bucky and Steve had that adrenaline rush of anger returned to run through your body as violently as it did at that moment, when Peggy told you that he had been murdered along with his wife. All to steal some prototypes of Dr. Erskine's serum. The damned serums with which everything had started.

This time there was a body in the coffin, but there was also a culprit. Someone to point the finger at and take it out on for years of anguish and pain.

You were at Peggy's house, staying for a few days, when she told you that wasn't all.

Peggy had a suspicion that HYDRA hadn't disappeared when Steve crashed that plane into the ice. Her suspicions generated panic in you, because Bucky and Steve had died for that, now apparently Howard, only for it all to have been for nothing. The feeling of carnage that ran through your whole head made you nauseous, years of helplessness and pain pent up in such a small body had to find its way out somehow.

“It was a man, according to the information I've been able to gather,” Peggy spoke, taking a seat across from you in the dining room of her living room, after pouring you a glass of lemonade. “He didn't die from the crash. He had a concussion. He was hit in the head. His wife died from asphyxiation.”

“Does Tony know?”

“No,” Peggy shook her head quickly, one hand over her heart as if the mere thought caused her physical pain. “It didn't even occur to me to tell him something like that.”

“And he was looking for the serum,” you recalled, a bitter feeling planted in the back of your throat, the memories of the disastrous times during the war coming back into your head like a blinding flash.

“He took them. We don't know who he is or who he works for, but whoever they are, they must have been following us for a long time to know about them.”

“You mean years,” you arched an eyebrow, your fingers touching the cool exterior of the glass seeking some reassurance.

“Possibly. That project isn't recent,” Peggy nodded, drinking her lemonade with a grimace. You stared at the liquid almost finished from her glass, a wrinkle forming between your brows with each passing second and you kept wondering why.

“But what the fuck was going through that asshole's head?” you spat angrily. Rage at already the amount of lives that serum had taken with it and at Howard's recklessness. Rage at the reaper who seemed to be following in their footsteps for some reason, rage at that damn man and whoever his damn boss was.

“It was the only option, Y/N,” Peggy turned her gaze, meeting your eyes with a strange glint.

“What do you mean?” you were almost afraid to ask, your friend's gaze suddenly turning evasive. You watched her run her fingernails over the glass of the tumbler, lost for a moment in thought. The way her shoulders slumped forward in defeat caused a pressure in your chest that made it hard to breathe. Peggy shouldn't be going through these things at this point in life.

“Howard was working with the Pentagon, as a contractor or something. They had found you. Howard felt cornered and they made him sign an agreement.”

With your incredulous look on her face, Peggy didn't dare look back at you for a few seconds. So much had happened since you had left and it seemed that you had only been told about the things you weren't going to care about so much. But if you had known that you wouldn't have cared much about giving some of the state officials their comeuppance. You would've liked Howard to trust you enough to tell you, not live in as much fear behind his back as the last few years must've been. You didn't like the way Peggy's lips curved downward, as if she, too, would've preferred to make another decision had she known this was how it was going to end.

“Howard assured them that he could recreate the serum, and told them he would as long as they left you alone.”

“Fucking asshole…” you closed your eyes, scrubbing your face with your hands. The rough skin of your hands rubbed against the delicate skin of your face, years of combat and mistreatment foreseeing a harshness that reminded you every day of what you'd had to go through to get to that moment.

“I only found out about it after it happened. I didn't see it for like a whole week,” Peggy shook her head slightly, her eyes glistening in the pain of the memories. You shook your head hard, a more violent reaction than you could have anticipated.

“That stupid… stupid asshole! What the fuck made him think I couldn't defend myself?”

“He was trying to do the right thing,” Peggy finally searched your eyes, meeting the red rims that told her you were holding back too hard breaking in front of her, only using that pain mixed with rage to keep you sane.

“And look how that turned out!”

Peggy stretched her hand across the table, with a pleading look asking you to lower your voice, averting her gaze to the hallway. You followed her gaze, for a second forgetting where you were, forgetting that her family was with you behind the doors where you were plunged into darkness. It was past midnight.

You took a second to calm yourself, trying to drown out the uncontrolled emotions and taking deep breaths to calm your fluttering heart.

“And if what you theorize is true…” you regretted the moment those words left your mouth; you didn't even want to finish the sentence.

“Do you think it is?”

“I don't want to,” you shook your head instantly, closing your eyes, the thought sounding illogical inside your head. Your hands on your chest trying to contain the storm of feelings that was making chaos inside your head. “That would mean that everything we did, everything Bucky, Steve and Howard did and sacrificed, was in vain. It will all have been in vain.”

You spent several weeks with that thought in your head, working hand in hand with Peggy, and the organization you barely knew as SHIELD, to track down the whereabouts of the killer of Tony's parents and the one responsible because the Supersoldier's serums were, surely, in the wrong hands.

And yes, it was many years of fruitless missions and dead ends, with you running every field mission and Peggy calling the shots from the New York facility. Every time you felt close to discovering something, it seemed that the enemy rejoiced in your failures and still couldn't understand how they were always three steps ahead.

However, you had to leave the missions when Peggy became ill.

The silent, lethal Alzheimer's.

During the first months in the hospital, she still recognized you. She also recognized her husband and children. But after the first year, she frowned every time her children walked through the door. After a year and a half, her husband had to remind her that they had been married for about forty years.

After two years, she was still only remembering you, Howard, Steve and Bucky. Her whole life during her time in the army was all you talked about, sometimes you would tell her how much more time had passed than she remembered and always, without fail, she would ask you how much you had done in Europe for so long by yourself.

She cried every time she remembered Howard's death. She cried every time she remembered her children. Out of her mouth came a thousand apologies that no one would accept, because there was nothing anyone could do to prevent what had to happen. You wished she had been a serum test subject instead of you.

For several years, missions to find Tony's parents killer were sporadic because you spent more time around Peggy than at the SHIELD facility. She was the only thing you had left of everything you'd ever had, of when you held the world in your hands. She was the last thing keeping you tethered to that reality, keeping madness from flooding your reason. How could you have so many years ahead of you when that was all you had to live for? A life full of the dead, full of pain and suffering. What kind of karma were you paying for?

You were leaving the SHIELD facility, after another failed mission, when Nick Fury stopped you in front of the exit. You almost rolled your eyes right under his watchful gaze, tired of having to meet him anywhere, and exhausted from his comments about this vengeance project or whatever he wanted you to be a part of.

You still didn't know how, being such an exemplary agent, Coulson had fallen into his nets.

“Miss L/N,” the man stopped you with his words, his hands behind his back and a tense stance that caught your attention.

“Fury,” you nodded in his direction, hoping he'd be quick because you were running late for your weekly visit with Peggy. “Do you need anything?”

“I'd like you to come with me somewhere,” Fury approached tentatively, his one eye fixed on your wary expression, which shifted to boredom the moment you thought you knew what he wanted.

“If this is about that project, I've told you a thousand times-”

“No,” he interrupted you, moving forward and removing his hands from behind his back. “It's not related to that. I really want you to come with me.”

“You look agitated, but I need-”

“I'll take you to see Peggy myself after this.”

You didn't like that he knew your routine, even though you weren't doing enough to hide it from the other agents. But Fury looked nervous, even though he was hiding it very well, trying to keep his cool as he looked for ways to convince you.

You figured it wouldn't be a big deal for you to go off the deep end for once. After all, Peggy never remembered you were going to see her.

You set off in Fury's armored vans, not quite sure where you were going, but sure that it was urgent, because he had taken it upon himself to let his driver know that you had to get there as soon as possible.

You took that time on the trip to come up with a new strategy for the next mission because what you were doing up to that point wasn't working and you felt too close to throwing in the towel, figuratively speaking. You could spend years following a ghost, but you wouldn't give up on finding Howard and Maria's killer.

Before the car pulled up to one of SHIELD's secret sections, they passed the giant, imposing Stark Tower. You never saw Tony again after that time at his parents' funeral, not even during his visits to Peggy because you always made it a point not to cross him. You didn't think you'd be able to look him in the eye while you knew his parents had been killed without being able to tell him. You had promised Peggy in her lucid moments that you wouldn't tell him anything until you could find the culprit. You didn't want to initiate that pain if it had to be kept repressed, as yours once was, and probably still is. You had learned, some time after the funeral, that he was living with Edwin Jarvis, and you were glad to know that he would have good companionship to keep him company in such hard times.

Fury, a handful of agents and you entered the vans through the entrance to what appeared to be the parking lot of an old warehouse. Upon entering, the first thing you noticed was the number of armed agents that seemed to be guarding the place, not at all discreet to how SHIELD used to do things. You weren't sure if Peggy would authorize something like that, but you couldn't question the Director's decisions. It wasn't your place.

“What's going on here?” you frowned, watching as every meter there was another agent and another agent. You got out of the car without waiting for an answer from Fury, moving directly toward the entrance where most of the agents were concentrated. You barely noticed their looks in contradiction, running their eyes over you and then over the man trying to catch up to you, dubious as to whether or not they should move. “Move.”

“Wait,” Fury's voice stopped the command in the agents, who turned back to look at you as you sent Fury a confused look.

“What's all this mystery, Nicholas?” the man startled almost discreetly at your tone of voice, the agents stirring uncomfortably, but kept the serene expression that was getting on your nerves. “What the fuck did you do?”

“We got a call from the Arctic.”

“From the Arctic?”

You tried to ignore the way the hairs on your neck instantly stood up, your body alerting you to something your mind still couldn't comprehend. You felt like a deer face to face with a predator, expecting the worst.

“The Colonel informed us of something that might interest us,” Fury's cryptic voice echoed in your ears, drowning out the flicker of uncertainty vibrating from your head to your toes. “They found a plane.”

You didn't even answer him. Your heart began to pound wildly, cornered, ready to have your head bitten off. The tension in your shoulders intensified, with the involuntary movement of your hands as you broke into a cold sweat. The mere implication of his words caused an emptiness in your stomach, a sense of longing and fear you hadn't felt before.

You looked at Fury, trying to find in his gaze the gleam of a lie, but there was nothing there but assurance. There was nothing but recognition and understanding in his gaze, but that didn't make the emptiness in your stomach and the tight chest go away. It didn't make the feeling of being outside your body go away.

You barely remembered to move in the direction of the door, the agents instantly moving out of your way, pushing it so hard that one of them flew out. You moved your eyes around every corner of the room, the cream-colored walls generating a great repulsion in you. And there, in the midst of all the confusion and the storm, a confused and disgruntled face looked back at you. A face you never thought you would see again.

Steve Rogers was standing a few feet away from you, barely comprehending what was happening around him and instantly recognizing you. Your chest compressed once again, the tears you held back for so many years even in your loneliness making their own way into your eyes, endangering to end that mask you wore everywhere you went.

Steve was actually there, looking back at you with his eyes shining in recognition. You didn't know if he was as surprised as you were to react or you looked so bad that he didn't know if he should approach you or not. You just knew it was him, it really was him right there in front of you. He wasn't dead. Steve wasn't dead. He was alive. Ah, he was so alive.

The broken sob that suddenly left you was loud enough to make your friend shed his stupefaction and stride over to where you were. You barely managed to cover your face, between sobs, wails and disbelief, feeling your knees give out, surrendering to the weight of the pain, when his strong arms grabbed your shoulders before you hit the floor. Preventing your fall, as you had wished so many times before.

You cried against his shoulder, when feeling him against your body you knew there was no doubt it was true. You moved your hands away from your face, wrapping them around his waist as tightly and lovingly as you hadn't hugged anyone in so long. Surely the last time you hugged someone like that was when you saw Peggy on your way back from Europe.

Steve wasn't far behind, his arms around your shoulders just as tightly, his chin against the crown of your head, moving from side to side trying to hold back the loud sobs that shook your body.

You couldn't believe it, but it was true, he was right in front of you.

Steve was alive. He had come back to your side. You didn't even want to ask why.

And there was nothing else you could think about for the rest of your life.

[oneforthemunny]

the struggles we face |mafia!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: based off of their first fight.

contains: 18+, mafia!Eddie, language, mentions of violence, blood, drugs, fighting, suggestive themes. angsty-ish with fluff at the end

Eddie leaned his head against the wooden door of your townhouse, bangs sweaty and matted against the skin of his forehead. He rapped his knuckles, bruised and bloodied, against the chipping white paint, waiting and hoping that you'd still be awake; that you'd open the door.

He gripped the bouquet in his hand hard, hard enough he was sure the stems would break, waiting a moment longer before he knocked again, a little louder this time.

Eddie could hear your footsteps, pounding little steps that got louder and louder as you got to the door. He heard the lock click and turn, perking up at the sound. It swung open to reveal you, in your little chemise night gown, silk and short. He knew you'd be wearing your matching silk panties underneath, mouth salivating at the thought. He'd bought you that very set, made you try it on when you got home. It was short and sweet, fit you perfectly and left him weak kneed at the sight of you. He longed to reach out and touch you, feel your fleshy skin underneath the smooth silk material, but the way your lips twisted, pursed in anger, hurt, he knew to keep his hands to himself.

"Hi, baby," Eddie muttered weakly, giving you a tiny smile.

He sounded tired, defeated, looked a little beat up. Normally, that would have you softening, relenting and pulling him inside so you could fuss over him. Not tonight.

"Don't," You snapped, not moving from your place in the doorway, manicured nail gripping the wood. "Don't you dare 'hi, baby' me when you were supposed to be here three hours ago!"

The shrill in your voice made his eyes pinch close, brows knitting together. His head was pounding, probably a result of the small cut over his eye.

It wasn't often he had to get involved in the dirty work, but with the more they brought in, the more people wanted it for their own. His guys had been ambushed during a drop, by a rival wanna be 'gang' who thought they were slick, thought they were tough until Eddie and his boys showed up. He'd give them credit, they didn't go down as easily as he thought. It had been a hard night, a lot of fighting and breaking to get their answers and supply back, but they did. At the expense of your date night.

Eddie sighed heavily. "I'm sorry. I really am, I-I got caught up with some shit, baby, you know how it is." He looked at you, brown eyes rounding and pleading. He was never this soft with anyone else. "I had to take care of business."

"And you couldn't call?" You snapped, throwing your hand out.

Eddie blinked at you. "What? You wanted me to pick up the phone while I was beatin' the guy? C'mon, honey-"

"No," You huffed in annoyance. "You could've called me before you left. Or had someone call me, Eddie. I sat at the restaurant waiting for over an hour! I looked like an idiot!"

Eddie ran his free hand down his face, his rings reflecting in the glow of your porch light. You could see how his knuckles were split, dried blood that he'd tried to clean was still left around the swollen bone. "I'm sorry, ok? I'm really sorry, and-and I just... I had to take care of work things, alright? I'm sorry you sat there and wasted your time waiting for me."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes hard back into your head. You were fuming, irritated and hurt all in one. "I was so fuckin' scared, Eddie." You snapped. "I tried to call your house a million times-"

"-You did what?" Eddie's eyes snapped to yours harshly. "What have I told you? You don't call me, ever. If I don't call you, there's a reason. You calling my house could put you in danger, fuck-"

"-I was scared, Eddie." You snapped, eyes bulging at him. You leaned forward, past the threshold, hand still gripping the door angrily. "I thought something had happened to you. You didn't call me before, you left me there, no one's heard from you, and it was a long time. I was worried about you!" You threw your hands out.

Eddie swallowed hard, grinding his jaw lightly. "I'm fine." He quipped. "Don't be worryin' about me, alright?"

"That's fuckin' easy for you to say, when you're the one who's disappearing all the time. You're the one in danger." You snapped. "How would you feel if I just went MIA for a while? Didn't show up for a date, didn't answer your calls, just untraceable, huh? How would that feel?" You challenged.

Eddie's jaw clenched, fists balling by his sides. His heart squeezed and dropped at the thought, even the mention of it all made him feel sick, nauseous and head spinning.

"Stop." Eddie sneered. "Don't you fuckin' even think about it, or I'll-"

"-or what?" You spat, eyes narrowed. "How is that fair? You get to disappear all the time, and I don't get to know what you're doing? Maybe I should do the same to you. Give you a taste of your own medicine."

"Can you quit?" Eddie sighed, exasperated and on edge. The thoughts alone were making his head spin, but now, it was starting to feel to real. The familiar creeping of acid crept up his throat, making him swallow hard. His heart was hammering in his chest, uncomfortable hard and ringing in his ears.

"Just knock it off, alright? I told you I was taking care of business." Eddie huffed, eyes narrowed at you. "I had shit to handle. I'm very sorry I didn't get to come to date night."

Your lips twisted, pressing together in a tight line. "You don't get it." You sighed, shaking your head. "You just don't fucking get it."

"Get what?" Eddie's shoulders dropped, tired. Too tired for another fight. "Get what, baby? Just tell me."

"You never tell me anything!" You shrilled, throwing your hands out. "And I know, I know, it's dangerous or whatever, but I'm not asking for every little detail, Eddie. I just want to know that you're going to be late, or you're going to not be able to make it, that something came up, or-or that you're alive."

Your breath hitched in your throat, white knuckled grip on the door. Eddie felt his heart drop slightly at your hurt expression, wobbly lower lip and glassy eyes. "I need to know that you're ok." You whispered.

"Kitten, I didn't have the time to call-"

"No? But you had the time to get flowers?" You shot back, eyes flickering to the bouquet in his hands. "You had the time to clean yourself up? To switch cars, so that means you went home, and you still couldn't call me? Just to let me know that you're safe." 

Eddie swallowed hard, guilt settling deep in the pit of his stomach, heavy and uncomfortable. Your lip quivered, biting down on it to keep yourself from crying. You had to be strong, tough, even if you didn't want to be. Even if you wanted to let him in, and have him smother you in affection, win you over with tender touches and sweet promises.

"I'm sorry." Eddie whispered, eyes locking with yours. "I really am sorry."

You shook your head, turning so he wouldn't see your face crumble. You stepped back inside, shutting the door on Eddie.

"Honey, wait, please-" Eddie begged, moving his face towards the crack of the door before it shut entirely. He heard the lock click, panic rising in his chest. "Please, I'm sorry! I-I'll do better, ok? Please, just open the door, baby? Please, let's talk it out!" Eddie begged. He never begged, not even in the face of danger and fear.

The porch light flicked off, leaving Eddie standing in the dark, alone on your front porch step. His shoulder's dropped, breath catching before he let out a shuddering sigh, deep and broken.

He cursed, throwing the flowers angrily at his car, fists balling in anger. Angry at himself, angry at the stupid fuckers that had to ambush his guys, angry that he was dense enough not to call, angry at everything, every choice he made that led him to this moment. Most of all, he was angry that he'd hurt you. He'd kill anyone who made you sad like that, who made your face crumble and cry like that. He wasn't sure what to do when he was the one causing it.

Eddie sat in his car, waiting for hours, knee bouncing, smoking through his entire pack in the cold night air. His heart hammered and twisted with anticipation, in the hopes that you might come back out. He saw the curtains move a little after two am, he knew she was looking to see if he was still there. He perked up hoping that maybe, maybe she'd let him back in. She didn't.

Eddie fell asleep in his car, parked out on the side of the road, car turned off and arms wrapped around himself. He wasn't leaving until he talked to you, he couldn't. He had every intention of waiting up for you, waiting until the morning when you opened the curtains and saw he was still there. Waiting to return back to the porch and wait and beg for you to open up, but the sleep overtook his body, exhausted from the fight before and the fight with you, completely drained.

The sharp knocking of the glass against his window awoke him with a startle. He was already reaching for his glock, ready to flick the safety off and empty a clip if he had to, but there stood you, through the dark tint of the car in the morning light.

You looked like you hadn't slept much either, bags under your puffy, red rimmed eyes. He felt his stomach plunge again at your face, knowing that he was the reason you'd been crying.

Eddie opened the door slowly, scampering to stand in front of you. Your arms were crossed over your torso, wrapping around yourself like a shield, protective of yourself. "Are you going to stay out here all day? Seriously?" You huffed.

"I will." Eddie nodded, shutting his car door. "I'll stay out here as long as I need to, until you're ready to talk to me."

You rolled your eyes, heart squeezing at the admission. You knew he would, truly, too love struck and stubborn to not. You sighed heavily, shivering in the cold of the morning. "Just-Just come inside." Your shoulders dropped. "We can talk."

Eddie nodded, following you inside. Sitting at your little kitchen table across from you. You already had a cup of coffee for him, for yourself. You'd planned this. He didn't comment on that.

"I-I really am sorry-" Eddie started, but you held your hand up, silencing him.

"You've said that." You bit, eyes cold and fierce. There's a pause, the air between the two of you tight with tension. In any other scenario, Eddie would be the dominating, intimidating force of the conversation, looking down the slope of his nose towards his prey in front of him. Here, sitting at your little table, he felt weak, small, at your mercy entirely.

Eddie tapped his fingers nervously against the wood of the table. "I don't know what else you want me to say." He said truthfully, brown eyes rising to meet yours.

"I don't want you to say anything." You admitted with a small sigh. "I want you to listen, to hear me." Your eyes were rounded, pleading with him silently.

Eddie nodded slowly, spine straightening in his chair. You took a deep, cleansing, steadying breath. "Eddie, I know you can't always talk about work and what you do with me. I know you want to keep me safe and away from all of that, I do." You started slowly. "But, baby, I'm in this with you. I know what you do, Eddie. I know it's dangerous, and-and when you don't call me? That scares the shit out of me."

Eddie felt his heart twist and squeeze in his chest, the same guilty feeling pooling back, deep into the pit of his stomach. You looked down at your own hands.

"I'm not asking you to tell me all the details, or stop everything to call me and tell me every time you leave the house, but," You sighed heavily. "On nights where you know you might be late, or you are late, can you just call me? Let me know. I was embarrassed sitting at the restaurant, yes, but I was more worried about you. Thinking something happened or-or, fuck, I don't know... I was scared."

Your bottom lip quivered, tears pooling back into your eyes and you tried to blink them away. Eddie swallowed hard, the burn of his own tears in his throat. He never wanted to make you scared, never wanted to make you cry.

"I'm sorry," Eddie whispered, brown eyes soft and vulnerable when they met yours. "I know I've said it, but I mean it. I'm not used to having someone look out for me. I always do the looking out, and it's taken some getting used to." He admitted, twirling the rings on his fingers.

You nodded slowly, wiping your eyes with the back of your hands. "'S alright." You muttered. "I know you didn't mean to. I didn't mean to lose my shit on you like that last night, I just-"

"-No, you should have." Eddie nodded. "Sometimes you need to lose your shit on me. Keep me in my place, kitten." Eddie grinned up at you.

You gave him a sweet smile back, pink blush dusting over your own cheeks. Eddie stood, hands on either side of your face, his nose nearly touching yours. You could see the cut on his eye, and it made your stomach flip again.

"I'll do better, I promise." Eddie whispered, his lips brushing over yours. "I'll try my best not to scare you anymore, and not to miss anymore date nights."

"You better." You whispered back, smiling against his gaze, warming you from the inside out.

"I'll make it up to you." Eddie moved his lips, bruised knuckles under your chin, tipping your head forward. "I promise, kitten."

You let him kiss you, sweet and slow, pillowy lips moving against yours, hands sliding up the silk of your gown, gripping onto your hips. You let him push you down the hall, towards your own tiny bedroom where he got on his knees between you to really make it up to you.

Eddie insisted on taking you out, later. A makeup dinner complete with a shopping trip beforehand. You told him he didn't have to buy you anything, that you'd be content with pizza and beer at home, but he wanted to. He lived to spoil you, to have you pressed up into the booth at the restaurant, kissing down your neck, lips trailing lightly down the chain of the new necklace he'd just bought you.

[icycoldninja]

I'm not sure if requests are open so if not feel free to skip!

Can you do the dmc boys barely saving their s/o before death? Good ol angst/comfort for both parties

They're open for the time being. Enjoy.

Saving Reader from death headcannons (Sparda boys + V x Reader)

Warning: injury, blood, near death experiences

¤ Dante ¤

-He'd made a mistake, taking you out on a mission with him. He knew he shouldn't have, but you were so eager to go and gung ho about ripping up demons, he just couldn't bring himself to crush your spirits.

-Almost as soon as you two arrived on scene, the demons fell upon you like hungry wolves to a piece of meat, mauling you, clawing at you, chewing on you, and more.

-It was lucky Dante had the reflexes he did, otherwise you would have been nothing but a bloody corpse. He'd managed to shoot the demons, knock them back, and otherwise incapacitate them enough for him to reach you.

-You were hurt, badly, but still alive. Forgetting all about the mission, Dante scooped you into his arms and carried you off to the nearest hospital, where, thankfully, the doctors were able to treat you.

-Dante spent the remainder of your recovery sitting by your bed, holding your hand with all his strength, constantly apologizing for being so stupid.

-"I'm sorry, sweetheart, I'm so sorry. I was an idiot to put you in danger like that, I-I should've known better. From now on, you're staying home, where it's safe, OK? I...don't ever wanna have to see you like this again."

■ Vergil ■

-Vergil knew demons would stoop to low, low methods to get what they wanted, but he didn't think they'd go so far as to track down where you lived and attack you in your own home.

-He'd received a phone call from you while on his way back from a mission. Expecting a loving greeting, Vergil was met with panicked screaming from the other end; you, begging for him to come home quickly because the demons had found you.

-Vergil wasted no time in portaling over, and not a moment too soon, for he'd found you cornered in the kitchen, a demon's scythe just centimeters from your throat.

-Thankfully, Vergil worked quickly and cut the demon down where it stood, preventing you from meeting what would have surely been a horrific demise.

-He was so worried and afraid about your safety, he didn't even flinch when you collapsed into his arms, weeping and wailing about how terrified you were.

-"It's alright, my dove. You are safe. I'm home. There are no more demons, not anymore. Shhh."

□ Nero □

-Nero had invited you to come with him on a quick, innocent trip to the store for groceries, thinking it'd be a great opportunity to just hang out together.

-He had absolutely no clue that demons would choose to attack the supermarket of all places on that specific day.

-The demons came in from all sides, quickly flooding the store with their ranks. In under 5 minutes, the little menaces had toppled shelving, collapsed light fixtures, rammed people with shopping carts, flung frozen food at everyone, and barricaded the doors with fallen vending machines. While Nero worked to clear an exit, the demons snuck up from above and caused a large, industrial lamp to fall from the ceiling. You were half crushed by the metal monstrosity before you even knew it.

-Nero couldn't control himself and Triggered right then and there, devoting all his attention to pulling you out of under the large light fixture. Once he'd done so, he blew open the wall using something or other and raced you to the hospital, returning to deal with the demons shortly afterward.

-He then came back to the hospital to find you alive, but in pretty bad condition, most of the bones in your legs, but thankfully not your back, having been cracked, at the very least. Nero spent the next few months of your recovery stationed in a chair by the door, head in his hands, blaming himself for not being able to save you from injury.

-"God, I'm such an asshole. I'm sorry, baby, I screwed up big time. I'm such a freaking loser. I should have been faster, shoulda followed my instincts and yanked you outta there earlier. Why the fuck didn't I do that? I suck."

● V ●

-You and V were simply enjoying a pure and romantic moonlit walk together in the city.

-Then the demons showed up out of literally nowhere, taking the both of you by surprise as they surrounded you, claws brandished and fangs gnashing.

-V summoned his familiars to dispatch them, but it wasn't enough. Some slipped through his already thin defenses and struck you with their bloodstained weaponry, inflicting countless wounds upon your body.

-V managed to kill them all off before they could kill you, but still, you were badly hurt, and if he didn't get you medical help now, you could die from your wounds.

-He did his best to get you to the nearest hospital despite his crumbling body, nearly passing out on the doorstep in the process. The doctors said they could save you, and for that, V was glad, but at the same time, he felt angry at himself for not being able to do more for you.

-"Alas, Wanderer, if only this body wasn't as fragile as paper mache. I sorely wish I were stronger, for if I wasn't so weak, I might've been able to save you. Please, forgive me."

[resowrites]

Holy Grail - drabble.

Summary: Henry develops a fixation for a certain part of his pregnant wife’s body…

Pairings: AU!Henry Cavill x Wife!OC

Warnings: fluff, banter/British humour, sexy talk, language, dialogue heavy, nondescript OC body type/appearance, hastily written/lightly proofread.

WC: 635

A/N: My work must not be copied, reposted, or translated elsewhere. Likes, follows, reblogs and comments are thoroughly welcome and appreciated! Gifs/pics not my own. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for visiting!

Holy Grail - drabble.

"Whoa--"

"Henry, get out, I'm trying to get dry!" He quickly turned around as she grabbed the towel from the bed and clutched it to her chest.

"I'm sorry! I came in here to fetch Kal so I could give him his tea!" But the pooch was still fast asleep at the foot of their bed.

"Well you better get out of here before he wakes up, you know how protective of me he is at the moment."

"I know, the soppy git…"

"He's soppy?! You almost had a panic attack yesterday when you thought I ate shrimp! And he picked up following me into every room from you!"

"Yeah well at least I don't guard you when you're in the shower--"

"Well thank God for Kal, otherwise you'd be leering at me through the glass!"

"At least then I'd get a look at them! Come on, drop that towel, and lemme see if I can't tune in for the news and weather--"

"Out, now! I wanna get dry in peace."

"Then here, let me help…" Henry took a few steps forward only for her to dart under the bed so she could fetch something. "What the hell is the broom doing under there?!"

"I had to bring it up last night to squish a spider on the ceiling and now I'm going to use it to get rid of another pest."

"My lady may call me whatever she wishes. For she is beautiful, rich, and got huge… tracts of land!"

"That's it! I'm not enduring Monty Python quotes. You're banned from my presence the rest of the evening. Be gone!" She tried to jab with the broom only for him to dart out of the way.

"Aww come on, when was the last time we got to knock boots?"

"Last bloody night!"

"Then you should be warmed up by now!"

"God give me strength… anyway I thought you just wanted to cop a feel?"

"Well I'll take whatever I can get--"

"Yeah well by the time I'm finished with this broom, you'll be able to sweep the floor!"

"Charming, all I wanted was to enjoy the beauty of my pregnant wife! Honestly, it looks like you're holding up two ten-gallon hats--"

"God you belong on a bloody list… can't you go one night without being a pervert?"

"No, but I'll tell you what, you flash me lefty and I'll give you a hundred quid."

"A hundred quid?"

"Yeah, would you prefer cash or bank transfer?"

"Is that all you think I'm worth?!"

"Well, it's not like you're giving me a handful!"

"And how much would you pay for that? I was thinking of redoing the kitchen…"

"What? Why? I did a good job of the tiling!"

"Henry, two fell off just this morning!"

"Then let little Henry have a dance in your ballroom and I'll fix it for free!"

"Will you also disappear back downstairs?"

"God, you always want to get rid of me!"

"Yeah, cos you get on my sodding tits!"

"I bloody wish!" She looked up at the ceiling and prayed for guidance.

"Henry, give me one good reason why I should have sex with you tonight."

"I can do better than that, I can regale you with song."

"What?!" Henry cleared his throat.

"Every sperm is sacred, every sperm is great. If a sperm is wasted, God gets quite irate!" She perched on the edge of the bed with her head in her hands.

"I can't actually believe I'm having your child…"

"I can, especially after last night. Now get thee to bed, and let's go for round two--"

"Really? You're reciting Shakespeare now?"

"Well I thought that might do the trick--"

"Fat chance."

"Why not? I can leave the money on the bedside table--" she chucked a pillow at him.

To be updated on when I post please follow @resowrites and turn on post notifications.

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[steddieas-shegoes]

wasting company time

for @corrodedcoffinfest warm up round prompt 'get a job'

rated t | 736 words | no cw | tags: they're idiots and i love them, especially gareth, he is my most special boy

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

If Gareth had to help one more person today, he was going to quit his job.

Which he couldn't. He was the only one in the band who currently had an income.

Eddie had been fired for missing too many shifts because of shows, Jeff was too busy with classes to also have a job, and Frankie was waiting for the right thing to come up. Gareth sucked it up and worked nearly full time at the diner.

He couldn't cook for shit so he was a waiter, and being a waiter was not his ideal position. The waitresses he worked with wore short skirts and flirted their way to decent tips. That didn't exactly work for Gareth, who worked the shift when mostly truck drivers came through with exhaustion seeping from their pores and gruff voices barely even placing an order before ignoring him.

The bell rang above the door and Gareth groaned.

"Have a seat anywhere!" He said from behind the counter, taking an extra minute to gather himself before having to help.

"Nah, you're gonna come with us."

Gareth looked up to see Jeff, Eddie, and Frankie standing at the counter, grinning from ear to ear.

"I'm clearly working. I don't get off for another hour."

"You don't need to work anymore."

Gareth was not gonna get his hopes up. They may be smiling and encouraging him to leave his job, but they all were irresponsible sometimes, even Jeff.

"Did you all get jobs?"

"We all have a gig. A decent one. One that pays," Frankie leaned against the counter. "One that requires us going on a little tour."

"You're telling me we have nothing for two years and suddenly we have a tour? With who? Where?" Gareth folded his arms across his chest, frowning. They were fucking with him.

"We didn't have nothing for two years, we had shitty gigs. Everyone starts with shitty gigs," Eddie argues. "And one of those shitty gigs had someone who works with a metal band who's going on tour in a month. They opened for Sabbath on their last tour. We're so fucking in, baby."

Gareth still couldn't believe it.

How did they land that? How did anyone see their Hideout show and think 'yeah, those are the guys we need'?

"I don't understand."

"Take off the apron, even though it's doing wonders for your hips," Eddie wiggled his brows playfully. "And come to the trailer. I've got everything there for us to look at with a lawyer."

"A lawyer? We can't afford a lawyer."

"Correct. But Steve said Nancy could take a look at it and make sure the language isn't trying to fuck us over," Eddie poked Gareth's cheek. "Jeff's mom said her brother could look at it, too, but he technically is an insurance lawyer so it may go over his head."

"Nancy Wheeler is gonna read a contract to make sure we don't sign our lives away?"

"Precisely," Frankie nodded.

"Anyone better for the job?" Jeff asked.

He had a ridiculous crush on Nancy, so of course he would think she could do it easily.

"A real lawyer maybe? Someone who is used to reading contracts?" Gareth was not quitting his job for this.

"Okay, well, do you have real lawyer money hiding somewhere in that apron?" Eddie threw his hands up.

"What's your obsession with this apron?" Gareth teased. "I just don't wanna end up jobless and then not even have this gig to fall back on."

"It's your damn hips! I said!" Eddie rolled his eyes. "If I promise to find a lawyer, will you please quit this stupid job?"

"If you can find a lawyer willing to work for free to look at that contract, I will quit this job and give you my last paycheck."

"Deal!" Eddie ran from the diner immediately, leaving Jeff and Frankie shaking their heads.

"He's never gonna find one," Jeff said.

"I know. I'll see you guys in the morning for practice."

Frankie waved and walked back out the door, but Jeff stayed for a moment.

"Hey, I know you're being cautious. But also, I think this would be good for us. We should probably give it a go."

Gareth looked behind him at the line cook shoving a french fry into his mouth, then at the one guy asleep at a table in the corner.

"Yeah, alright. Let's give it a try."

[pasta-in-the-pudding]

helloo this is my first time requesting so please bear with me

can i request for for a scenario with a male reader who has no care for the world and just goes with the flow so when the killers try to kidnap or kill him he’s just chill and like 😐 any killer are fine :)

thank you and feel free to ignore if you’re uncomfortable!

Ooh im so honored to be your first ask! I hope this does you justice!

Tw: kidnapping, mentions of torture

Thank you so much for requesting

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

Toby

He gets very worried when he sees you aren't reacting

Did he do something wrong? Are you the wrong person? Oh god, did you even know you were being kidnapped??

He's pacing back and forth in front of you, almost forgetting that you're there

That is, until you sigh loudly through the rag that was shoved into your mouth

He looks up at you "what?"

You raise a brow before looking down at the rag

"Oh." He mutters, coming to be in front of you and taking the rag out

You cough and move your tongue around, trying to get rid of the cotton mouth "so when can i go home?" You ask

He looks at you, bewildered "uh...do you not see what's happening? You're being kidnapped."

"No, i got that part, i just have work in the morning so i don't wanna be late for that"

He sighs and rubs his eyes before looking at you once more "no, you see, I'm not going to be returning you home. You are staying here, until your family pays the agreed ransom amount"

You sigh "darn. Alright."

He shoves the rag back in your mouth and continues to contemplate on his worries...

Brian

One of the reasons he enjoys his job, is that he at least gets some sort of gratitude out of it

Knowing his victims fear him, makes him feel strong and superior

So when he kidnaps you and you don't care, that really ticks him off

He doesn't show it at first, trying to get you to fear him in the easier ways, such as telling you all of the things he's gonna do, telling you that you're gonna be here forever, etc

And when that doesn't work, he amps up the pressure a little, threatning you, threatning your family and friends, etc

And when that doesn't works, he amps it up a little more, holding his gun to your head, slicing various parts of your body with his knife, etc

One way or another, he will get you to fear him, he doesn't care what it takes

Eventually, he will even go as far as to leaving you alone, tied to a chair in the dark, with no one else but yourself to keep you company

How long he leaves you like this depends on how angry you made him

It may range from just a day or to a week or so

The longest he'll let you stay down there by yourself is until you are on the brink of starvation, he needs you alive, after all...

Eyeless Jack

Personally, he couldn't care less whether or not you react to being kidnapped

In fact, it makes his life easier if you don't react

He can catch up on his other work, harvest your kidneys, study, read

The list goes on, really

So it's actually better this way, and he appreciates you not wasting his time trying to thrash around, scream or escape

He doesn't tell you that though, of course

He's probably the person you want to get kidnapped by, all things considered

If you are good, he will eventually start getting you some fast food for your meals

He will also untie you for an hour or so, and let you walk around

Staying active is necassary, you know

And who knows? If you ask nicely enough, he might just bring you some crossword puzzles to keep your mind occupied

All that being said, do not mistake his kindness for mercy

One wrong move and he will make you wish you'd never been born...

[thelunarsystemwrites]

Lunar's mental health. An update.

TW: bad mental health, EDs, depression, s/h, personal stuff, suicidal thoughts, anxiety, vent, self hate, heavy topics.

Sorry I haven't been posting!!

An update on me.

...Hi, you might know me as Lunar, or, TheLunarSystemWrites! I'm just an artist on here, trying to do things I like.... right?

Well, unfortunately, real life doesn't really... care. It doesn't care if I have friends to talk to, art to make, things I like to do.

I've been exhausted, physically and mentally. I've been busy working a lot in our home. (Painting, building, packing, inside work, cooking, etc) and it's always stressful... we're starting to get a little tight on money.

I've spent majority of my time in my bed. I don't wanna face my family members, so I've hidden away. It's hard to get up every day, and try to find the will to take care of myself.

I also recently relapsed with Bulimia, a disorder that, essentially means I throw up whatever I eat. I've been purging since September 16th, 2022. But I had awhile where I only purged once a day or none, but I'm back at it with full force. So my body doesn't have any energy left. I've also now lost my periods do to it.

I don't sleep well. It's much easier to stay up all night than waste my only free time sleeping. So I have no energy from sleeping well unless I sleep a whole day away, which makes me groggy.

Self harm is also something bothering me too, I'm too tired to do it and yet I keep doing it. Wasting precious spoons on it, I literally can't be clean for a whole year this year, that dream is dead. But, I am a few days clean as I type!

Suicidal and intrusive thoughts have been.... pesky. But I can't just leave my friends, plus I have prizes to make.

But, I'm unmotivated. I can't seem to write or draw anything. All my art is looking... regressed, to me. Everything is repetitive.

I've hated myself now more than ever in my life, I'm in a pretty bad place and I hate how self aware I am.

SPEAKING of regression! I have like, regression block. My brain isn't working with me, isn't regressing unless Involuntary. So my main coping mechanism is.... out of order.

I've been angry at the world, really pissy and moody. Tired, hungry, sad, then happy but not much. Numbness is a huge factor, I'm feeling depressed.

Not to mention, there's drama everywhere I look. This creator gets bullied, that one turns out to be disgusting. People get doxxed over opinions... it's constantly anxiety that I'll be wrongly accused, ridiculed, or abandoned. It's terrifying that people will go at each other's throats. It's exhausting to deal with it and be dragged into drama with problematic people.

Every day has been the same for me for the past 3 years. I'm tired, bored, understimulation controls me.

My friends are my lifeline right now.

I feel uncomfortable in my own body all the time, unsatisfied with my art, everything is essentially falling apart in my life.

Depression, anxiety... not a good mix to wake up disoriented and anxious, then gave zero spoons throughout the day. I'm not in a good home situation right now.

So... I kinda just... haven't been posting, role-playing, answering DMs, answering asks, etc...

I'm burnt out.

I feel like I'm a walking corpse.

Useless even.

I don't feel like myself anymore, I barely have the energy to talk to friends, every little bad things sets me back. I just can't bring myself to really engage much anymore.

So... sorry. I'm sorry, if I wasted your time. Or if this isn't like what you wanted to hear. I'm just not okay anymore, April was the last good month I had this year. APRIL.

I just wanted to update you all, there's a lot of other stuff I didn't share because it's nit important. I swear I'll get to the prizes eventually, I just ain't up to it right now. Might not be for awhile, apologies in advance!!

Hope you guys can understand, I might or might not be back to doing art, who knows. But I'll definitely get things done before that if I ever stopped. It just doesn't bring me joy, I used to hope I'd make an AU people cares about, and I've barely achieved that ^^"

Hope you're all well!! Stay safe, take care!! Remember to hydrate and to try eating if you can, you're spectacular!!!

Daily clicks!! ^^

Previous pinned post.

[poohsources]

🐝  *  ―  𝑰𝑻'𝑺 𝑵𝑶𝑻 𝑨 𝑷𝑯𝑨𝑺𝑬, 𝑴𝑶𝑴. ( a random assortment of various lyrics from emo songs. feel free to change pronouns if needed. )

❛  i know you well enough to know you never loved me.  ❜ ❛  i am finished with you.  ❜ ❛  you were the last good thing about this part of town.  ❜ ❛  so don't go worrying about me, it's not like i think about you constantly.  ❜ ❛  do you feel like a man when you push her around? do you feel better now as she falls to the ground?  ❜ ❛  take back everything you ever said, you never meant a word for it.  ❜ ❛  i'm glad i didn't die before i met you.  ❜ ❛  say anything, but say what you mean.  ❜ ❛  what the hell is wrong with me? my friends say i should act my age.  ❜ ❛  it's no surprise to me, i am my own worst enemy.  ❜ ❛  i'm sick of the things i do when i'm nervous, like cleaning the oven or checking my tires or counting the number of tiles on the ceiling.  ❜ ❛  well, you treat me just like another stranger.  ❜ ❛  but i don't wanna feel a thing anymore.  ❜ ❛  doesn't it feel like your time is running out?  ❜ ❛  i don't blame you for being you but you can't blame me for hating it.  ❜ ❛  and up until now, i have sworn to myself that i'm content with loneliness.  ❜ ❛  i'll keep you my dirty little secret. don't tell anyone or you'll be just another regret.  ❜ ❛  and all the times you promised me that everything would work out in the end, you were gravely mistaken.  ❜ ❛  thanks for the memories even though they weren't so great.  ❜ ❛  i never thought we'd make it out alive.  ❜ ❛  i know somewhere, somehow we'll be together.  ❜ ❛  honestly? honestly, i can't remember all my teenage feelings. and the meanings.  ❜ ❛  the more i try, the more i lose.  ❜ ❛  why can't i feel anything from anyone other than you?  ❜ ❛  second chances they don't ever matter, people never change.  ❜ ❛  and the hardest part is letting go of the nights we shared.  ❜ ❛  you contradict the fact that you still want me around.  ❜ ❛  don't ever look back. they'll tear us apart if you give them the chance.  ❜ ❛  you don't know what it's like to be like me.  ❜ ❛  i kept my word when i swore that i would let you down.  ❜ ❛  so let's just pretend everything and anything between you and me was never meant.  ❜ ❛  and i fell for the promise of a life with purpose. but i know that's impossible now.  ❜ ❛  glad the future didn't fail you like it failed me.  ❜ ❛  but i wish that i'd never met a lot of the people that i've met. not because i don't like them but because i only let them down.  ❜ ❛  don't waste your time on me, you're already the voice inside my head.  ❜ ❛  can we pretend to leave and then we'll meet again.  ❜ ❛  let's just forget everything we said and everything we did.  ❜ ❛  i don't want to waste my time, become another casualty of society.  ❜ ❛  so i told her i loved her, and she told me she loved me. and i mostly believed her and she mostly believed me.  ❜ ❛  the truth is you could slit my throat, and with my one last gasping breath i'd apologize for bleeding on your shirt.  ❜