#and no don't give me the 'young at heart' bullshit again

[cursedmotleycrueimages]

#another one where he tries to be a highschooler #Tommy you're like 40 years old you're not young anymore #and no don't give me the 'young at heart' bullshit again #tommy lee #mötley crüe #cursed motley crue images

[hypnos333]

Helloooo! I saw that your requests were open for Hazbin- how about a reader who's a seraphim? Kind of Lucifer's protégé/child way before the creation of Eden, Adam, and Lilith.

And he just kind of left them up there alone and neglected because of her association/kind of Dad!Lucifer. So, it's kind of angsty seeing as how Lucifer was a better Dad to Charlie and the reader grew with envy and fell into that ring along with her brother (I've been seeing hc/rumor a lot) Cain.

What would happen their first meeting again? If this is too much I don't really mind so no worries! Have a nice day and thanks for reading!!

A/N: I’m sorry but I go by biblical too so this might be different but same concept and storyish

Like father like daughter

Lucifer x daughter Reader

Synopsis: Your dad left you young now you left him

How it started

You are my Sunshine My only sunshine

You make me happy When skies are grey

Little you giggles at your father’s little song for you and only you. You were an angel whose mother was long gone leaving just you and your father. You made grabby hands towards him making his heart melt before lift you up.

“Boop” you cutely said as you boop his nose making him chuckle. “Boop” he said back making you giggle this time.

“Okay baby it’s time for me to go to work so Uncle Castiel is gonna watch you okay baby?” He asked you making you nod happily before rushing to your uncles arms.

You never knew that was the last time you would see him and with that you cried and cried for your dad until Sera and the other Angels showed you he forgot about you, he had a wife and daughter….

You watched as he singed the same lyrics he sang to you to her. You were only 5 and parentless watching your father abandon you but staying for another that his. That’s when you grew up odd with another angel. You were evil or as they say a bad apple.

You were Cain’s secret friend encouraging him to kill his brother Abel. That when you were sent down in hell where your dad is but you never cared to look for him finding some friends of your own.

You were older and more mature then her but she was the youngest, and you were the oldest. Does that mean you had to made the sacrifice to be left?

Even so it hurts and your growing hate towards your father and sister grew stronger by the centuries.

With Lucifer though he was trying everywhere to find you, You were no where to seen in heaven and no where on earth so you must be in hell. But even then he couldn’t find you.

You grew close to Cain when he came to hell after being full of pride and thinking he could live without God and with his punishment. You saw him as a brother the only family you considered. You were never gonna be ready to let your other family in your life and you meant that.

When you were both getting ice cream You heard something. “___!” you turned around to see lucifer huffing and puffing finally catching up to you.

“My Sunshine! Woah have you grown into a-” you punched him in the face. You the eldest of Lucifer punched him in the face and my god it felt great to do. Your unbelievable smile widen as you saw his pain. Call it fucked up as you will but you almost laugh on how pathetic he was and to believe you looked up you him.

“Don’t… Don’t call me that. I thought we both grew out of that nickname a long time ago” You mumbled before turning away from him having nothing else to say.

“___ I was trying to protect you! Don’t you understand I was going to come back for you. I-“COME BACK TO ME? NOW THATS BULLSHIT “DAD” BECAUSE SPENDING TIME WITH YOUR OTHER BORN WAS NOT LOOKING FOR ME” You interrupted him turning into your full demon form Lucifer looked at you in shocked and stunned.

“I was 5 waiting for my own father to come home” You stated calmly as Lucifer looked at you with tears in his eyes.

“Please give me another chance, I love you too much to let you go” He pleaded taking you hand but you yanked it straight away.

“You gonna know how it feels to let go of the person you” You growled before walking away from him.

“You’ll never know dear, how much I love you. Please…. Don’t take my sunshine away” He prayed as tears slipped down his eyes reaching out to you knowing your already far from him. knowing he lost his firstborn hurt

“Daddy! teach me how to dance!” A little you say as Lucifer looked up as a little you held your hand towards him he tried to reached but then you just faded. That little girl was long gone the moment he didn’t take you with him.

#lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer x you #lucifer imagine #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel x you

[satrs]

WICKED GAMES. @Gojo.satoru

SYNOPSIS; Satoru Gojo is your nemesis - vise versa. Or so you thought.

FEATURING; Virgin!Gojo Satoru x fem!reader

WK; 4k.

TAGS; NSFW CONTENT! MDNI! college au. richhhh Gojo. enemies to lovers. insulting. gojo hurts readers feelings with insults, vise versa. clothed grinding. unprotected sex. virginity loss. prn with plot.

"And who exactly invited you here?"

It's loud, thick air from the crowded space not too far away from where you're trying to escape the loud music blasting in your ear drums, head throbbing in pain, only to increase due to the annoying and unexpected - obstacle on your way to the restroom.

Your brows crinkle in irritation at the young man's question, flashing him a look of disgust. "That's none of your business." Your eyes drill holes into his skull, clicking your tongue at his attitude. "Can you move out the fucking way?", you ask rather rhetorical, irritated, you try to stomp past him, only to be hindered by his large frame hovering above you, his intimidating aura drowning out the loud chatting and music in the background, heart thumping in your chest as you struggle to hold eye contact, eyes flickering from his to the wall right beside you, gritting your teeth in annoyance.

He looks you up and down, tongue pocking the inside of his cheek. "It's my business since you're in my house."

You scoff, a sly smirk creeping its way up your lips. "Your house? If I'm not mistaken, Suguru lives here. Rings a bell? Geto Suguru, the host of this party? Also, the one who invited me here?"

"Suguru, Satoru, same shit. What's his is mine. So, again, what in Christ's name are you doing in my house?"

Your anger only grows, rumbling up a storm inside your stomach. Who the hell does he think he is? 'What's his is mine'? Fucking bullshit. "Look, I know that you two are friends-"

"Best friends", he interrupts, a vein on his forehead almost popping out of rage. Your patience is hanging onto a thing fucking threat at this point, playing out multiple ways to beat this bastard's ass up in your mind.

"The best of friends", you mock him, eyes closing for a second to regain your composer. "Whatever, I don't give a shit. Suguru and I also happened to be friends, and he invited me here. Out of kindness, I came." You pause, scanning his posture for any slight sign of comfort to make your escape, the idea soon turning into a cloud of smoke at his focused expression, his whole attention focused solely on you. "I've tried to avoid you all night. But you're stuck to my ass like a tick."

You make sure to spit out the last word, making sure he heard it loud and clear.

"I didn't ask who invited you, I asked why, the fuck, you are here."

"Now, I swear to God, Gojo. You better know what's best for you and get. Out. Of my way."

Satoru Gojo.

You hate the taste his name left in your mouth, and you hate the sight of him. That's why you refused to attend to this shitty frat party so many times. But your friend, who also happens to be Gojo's childhood buddy, begged and pleaded, until you eventually caved in.

You know how much this party means to him. Tying new connections to various people around the area, show of status, maybe even get a taste of some hot thing. All of that high top stuff.

You're not into that kind of lifestyle, showing off money and throwing it around as if it grew on trees, especially as a college student. Most students who attend this shit-show treat their academic success was careless and straight up foolish - running around to be a part of the 'high society' on the campus, while their tuition fees light up into red numbers.

One of the many reasons you hate Satoru Gojo is exactly that. His reputation. He is, how other students would say, part of the 'high society' - got his tuition fees covered by the wealth of his parents, grades never good, but after some sweet-talk with his professor, he surprisingly passes all of his classes with flying colors. One way or the other, he gets what he wants. He always does.

He is the definition of 'money can buy anything'.

But it's not the money alone, it's his attitude of his that just has you ball your hands into a fist.

Not one day goes past without him rubbing his wealth under everyone's noses. It didn't matter who it was, he was going to show them that he was better than them, richer, stronger.

He is the strongest.

Even though he never offended you directly, his distant glares and arrogant looks were enough for you to develop the hatred you have towards him. He always looked down on everyone he talked to, if they manage to even get him to pay attention to them, that is.

You really didn't want to even see him at this party, not attempting to ruin your mood with someone like him. So, you had to avoid him at all cost. In the end you figured, it wouldn't hurt to attend a party again, enjoying the company of others more than usual in your full-scheduled student life, escaping the never ending cycle for even just a little bit of fun. Also, the chance of running into him in such a massive house was slim. Until now.

You wish you could just kill him right here, that's how deep your hatred is seated. His feelings are mutual.

It's not like he ever paid attention to your presence, hell, he didn't even know you existed until you were all up in his business, always having a remark ready when he said anything to anyone. Yeah, he can be a bit mean at times, but it's nothing harsh, just jokes. They all know, for sure.

At first, he thought you're cute, and you still are, being honest. Gorgeous even. Maybe even the prettiest girl he's ever seen. But only if you keep that damned mouth of yours shut.

He can't stand your constant sense of justice, bugging him with issues someone like him could never even bother himself with. Babbling nonsense of 'fairness' and 'inequality' when he just supports the economy. Some, with some he means, you, see his actions as cruel but, if you were in his position, wouldn't you do the same?

Why can't you just mind your business and stop bothering him with your bullshit? It's not like your endless talking would change anything.

You're a nobody.

"Hello? Is your ass that stuffed of money that you can't follow simple instructions anymore? Get out of my way!"

Who does he think he is?

You scream into his face, blood rushing up your face as your anger pours out of you, all you see is red. If he doesn't move out the way at this instant, you're going to-

Who do you think you are?

He exhales a deep breath, scanning the area around you two before he swiftly takes a hold of your arm. You spit out curses at him, roughly trying to free yourself from his grasp, only to be dragged along until he rushes you into an empty room down the hall.

"Let go-!" And he does, pushing you into the empty guest room, closing the door right behind him. You swallow at the tension, the music only faint to notice, turning the room almost dead silent.

You stand, your ground, furrowed eyebrows indicating your mood. "You-!"

Before you can even think of an insult, he interrupts you in an instant, causing your body to tense up at his unusual dark tone. It's almost scary how his expression changes into something unreadable. "Shut the fuck up", he breathed out, head falling back as his hands brushes across his face, a long sigh leaving his lips while looking at the ceiling.

"Can you? Just be quiet for one second." And you did, exhaustion washing over your body as you look around the room, turning on your heels to look at anything but him.

"It's always people like you", he begins, eyes trailing after your movements, "always those nobodies who got their nose all up in my business. You're the one who's a tick on my ass." He begins to follow your footsteps to the bathroom, halting at the door to lean against the door frame, looking down at your body seated on the closed toilette, head in hands. "You're jealous."

Jealous? Not only jealous - you're green of envy.

He was born with everything and anything you could ask for. He already got his future set, like food on a platter. You on the other hand have to work hard, to pay for college, rent, and other necessities. And he? He gets money shoved up his butt every other week, not lifting a finger. And worst of all, he's not even grateful for his privileged life. Perhaps, that's also a big reason you hate him.

"I'm obsessed? Now tell me who exactly dragged me into this room!", You snap your head up, teeth gritting together, tears threatening to trickle down your face.

"You cryin'?" You try to wipe the tear off your face unnoticed, but it's already too late. He nears you, leaning down and looking at you with that look again.

As if you're nobody.

"Don't change the topic", you sniffle between tears, turning your face away from him so you don't have to see him looking down at you. But you still feel his eyes on you, an unreadable expression on his face as he inspects your form, an odd feeling bubbling up in his stomach.

Guilt?

He feels bad for you, he feels bad for making you feel this way. An apology tickles the tip of his tongue, but he closed his mouth before he dared to shatter his own ego.

"Fuck." He lets it slip out in a whisper, trying to think of possibilities to clear the confusion. Truth was, he looked for you around the whole house with the intention of making things right with you. Because he actually doesn't hate you how you think he would.

Suguru, his childhood best friend, knows how bad Satoru is with words, and how little to no remorse he has while talking to people, especially to girls. He also knows something else about Satoru, something that nobody, maybe not even himself, is aware of. That's the whole reason why he even invited you here. For the both of you to talk things out.

He planned it all out, pleading and begging you to come, and also loosing his pride in the process, up to the empty room, knowing that only Satoru would know what part of the house would be abandoned during a party, up to talking him into finally talk to you - without any bickering or insulting. An honest talk, just the two of you, nothing else.

"Look", he feels his heart sink into his stomach as he notices your attention is on him. "I-" He stops at the sight of your teary face, every part of his body telling him to just apologize properly, and just leave it be, or kiss it better.

What is he thinking?

"I just want this shit to end. Stop bothering me. Stop pocking around my business. Then we'll be good." Fucking dumbass. He facepalms himself mentally, eyes widening in shock at the sound of your soft giggle.

"Didn't anyone teach you how to apologize?" Looking up at your face again, he can see a faint but visible smile on your face and, thank God, what a relief.

"You know I won't say that."

"Why?"

"Because there is no reason to."

His posture stiffens at the sound of you getting up from the toilet. "Alright then. There's nothing to 'be good' then," You walk past him, back into the room, "I'll leave."

"Wait."

You can hear him entering the room. You smirk to yourself before turning around, ready to see his ego shattering down, and-

"I don't hate you, Y/N."

What?

The smirk quickly washed off your face, confusion replacing it. Was this some sort of joke?

"I'll explain it to you, just-" he sighs, swallowing his pride before continuing, "stay. Please." You're taken aback by his sudden change, the soft and pleading look on his face. He never looked anywhere near unappealing to you, it was just his attitude. But now?

You don't know what's gotten into you, but you feel like staying, like something will happen. Suddenly you're not angry anymore, you're calm, collected, but most of all, curious.

He sighs in relief as you halt your movements, slowly expecting him to continue. His feet drag to the bed, awkwardly sitting at the edge of it as his hand motions you to sit beside him, eyes looking up at you expectantly.

You hesitate at first, you want to turn back and get out, but something just keeps your feet moving, your eyes never leaving his face.

And when you sit beside him, you come to realize how handsome he is up close, observing his bright ocean blue eyes, searching for something you can't explain in them.

You snap back to reality, eyes now looking down at your fingers tapping at your thigh awkwardly. "So?", you whisper into the thin air, for no reason at all. Slowly you look up at him face again, and instead of an answer, you found what you were looking for.

His lips smash onto yours as your eyes widen before you sigh into the kiss in relief, leaning your head into the hand he held up at your cheek. You push right into him, softly crawling onto his lap while your hands tangle into his hair as you feel him shiver underneath you at the feeling of your clothed heat covering his groin.

Breaking the kiss to catch your both's breaths, you look at each other in pure bliss. You lose yourself in his angelic eyes as his flicker from your eyes to your lips expectantly, hoping - no, begging for you to catch on.

"I like you," he curses under his breath once your cunt sits right on his half-hard length, breathing turning ragged, "I really like you."

You catch onto his intention and breath out s light laugh, placing a quick kiss to his lips, causing him to chase after your lips right after, and you bite back a laugh right after. "I figured." Your lips are back on his as you begin to grind your hips against his in a needy manner, a soft moan being swallowed by his lips as his hands firmly hold onto your rear, setting a steady rhythm.

With every move of your hips, the tent in his pants only grows, his hands turn rougher with each friction of your clother cunt against his hard length.

Fuck, he might burst into his pants right now. You look so angelic above him, breaking from the kiss to carefully tearing the shirt from him so you could admire his fine build before softly pushing him onto the sheets, his white hair spread across the silk as his chest heaves with every further inch your delicate fingers took towards his groin with the intention of freeing his aching cock from his painfully tight boxers.

And you do just that, eyes sparkling in anticipation at the sight of his gorgeous cock, pre leaking from the tip as he hisses at the hit of cold air he feels against his head.

"Hah- I-", his head pushes back into the sheets, eyes closing while he lets out a soft whine once your hand contracts around his dick, thumb teasing his slit.

"You what? Cat caught your tongue?", you tease, your other hand occupied with lazily pushing your panties to the side, lifting your hips up, ready to aline his head to your entrance, damp folds eager to feel him inside of you.

He lifts his head up, looking at your exposed cunny right before him, his hand flying up to your hips, squeezing them to get you to halt your actions. "I never did this", he breathes out, cheeks turning into a faint tint of red at your dumbfounded expression. Your hips come back down to rest on his lap, biting your lip, aroused of the idea that you're his first. "Are you serious?" And with his nod, you feel your cunt pulsating in excitement, neck craning down to capture his lips again.

You lift your hips to rest on his exposed cock, wet cunt slowly gliding along his length. Your swollen clit catches onto his end, the both of you moaning into the kiss.

His hips speedily buck up into yours, urging you to slide his plumb tip into your entrance. The firm grip his hands have on your waist guaranteed a leaving impression on your skin - but you don't care.

Not right now, not like this- when you have him of all people imaginable underneath you, his hot breath tickling your nose while his eyes lusted over you, curious of your next move.

You smirk down at him, a breathy laugh escaping you as your hand sneaks down to take hold of his pulsating length, aligning it to your entrance.

And with your gummy walls enveloping his tip in a tight grip, every past lingering grudge flows out of the window. He swallows, hard, head tipping back in pleasure while you inch your hips down further and further, biting your lip to contain your moans.

If there's heaven, this is it. Yes, he had his fair share of make out sessions, girls soaking his fingers and he was no stranger to blowjobs. But this? This feeling, your soft walls hugging his cock so perfectly, as if your pussy was made for him, waiting for him.

"Ohhhhh, f-fuck!-" A strangled whine escapes his lips once you bottom out, sweat forming at his forehead. It feels like you're suffocating him, his breath gets caught in his lungs, his eyes threatening to move to the very back of his skull.

With his face scrunching up in pleasure, one hand leaves the bruising grip on your waist as he tries his best to get up on his elbow, mouth hanging wide open.

"Are you alright?", you breathe out, breathing turning rapid. You can feel each vein of his dick pulsating inside your soaking cunt, your hand brushing across his defined abdomen.

"More than alright", he scoffed, his eyebrows furrowing, now fully propped up against the headboard. His absent hand finds its way to your ass, squeezing it, a desperate gaze inspecting every inch of your body. "Please, move."

And you comply, bracing yourself on his shoulders as you begin a steady pace, breasts bouncing up his face with each movement of your hips.

"Fuckkkkkk, yesyesyes!", his mouth captured your neglected nipple, his wet muscle swiping across the bud whilst his occupied hand harshly squeezes your rear, fat spilling between the gaps of his slender fingers as he roughly moves your hips against his, the newfound rhythm causing him to let out a sob.

Each rut of your hips only makes his love for you grow even stronger, now that you took the most precious thing he claimed to be his as your own, he's sure that this is right. If he had any doubts before this, then it's certain that they now disappeared into the thin air. There's nothing but desperation and desire for you clouding his mind - he needs you, he needs to feel the comfort of your velvet walls, your moans against his lips, your skin against his - you, you you.

Your clit continuously brushes against his pelvic bone. "Mhmmm, right there", you whine, hands desperately clawing at his shoulders with your eyes squeezed shut.

It's almost embarrassing how fast you're threatening to near your release, considering that he was the virgin. On top of that, the he in question being Gojo Satoru. You hated-

Your eyes shoot open, back coming in contact with the silk sheets before you feel his mouth on yours again, his tongue prodding at your lip. "You feel so fucking good, baby", he mumbled against your lips, his hips speed up while his hands roam your body in such a longing manner. "Don't want anything but this", he lifts your leg up his shoulder, straightening his back as he felt a tightness in his stomach. "Nothing 's better but this perfect cunt. Love it so much, fuck- love you, I love you baby."

Wait, why did you hate him again?

You moan at his words, the confusing mist clearing up with each mesmerizing thrust of his hips, your eyes full of admiration when you view him leaving open mouth kisses against your ankle, his eyes never daring to leave yours.

"'m gonna cum, toru- fuckfuckfuck, yes! Don't stop pleaseee-" And with that, you fall into the tantalizing sea of pleasure, sucking your stomach in while reaching your hand to his hip in an attempt to stop him, the pleasure too much for you to bear.

A low groan leaves him at the sound of the nickname you gave him, hips unintentionally speeding up, sweat rolling down his chest. He feels like he's gonna bust any second now, his tip nudging your gummy spot with each stroke, taking the shaky hand on his stomach in his to reach it up to his lips and plant a quick kiss on it.

"A-atta, girl. Fuck, you're so goddamn pretty. Can't last much longer, baby." His glistening eyes look between your bodies, the movement of his hips flattering as he nears his release.

"Shiiiiit, never felt so good in my entire life. Wanna stay inside of you forever. T-think I'm gonna cum."

The sight of your spasming cunt spurting against his lower abdomen was enough for him to burst right inside your welcoming hole, one last drive of his hips following to dwell a little longer in the pleasure before pulling out of your hole.

His body slumps onto of yours, nuzzling his head into your neck. You let out a breathy giggle, still out of breath, as your hand reaches up to stroke his hair affectionately.

Soon, the both of your breathings calm down, silence drowning the room, no one daring to continue where you left off.

"You sure this was your first time?", you joke, earning a laugh from the young man. He lifts his head, eyes locking with yours. "I'm a natural, you know."

You hide your laugh while turning to the side. His eyes roam your face with pure affection, love struck from your wholehearted laugh and suddenly, he regrets every past resentment he had against you.

" You're so damn pretty", he whispers, causing you to turn and look at him, his eyes wandering aver your features. "I'm serious", he continues, in answer to your skeptical stare.

It was weird, seeing his usual distasteful expression being replaced by such an adoring gaze, tempting you to look into his ocean kissed eyes for all eternity.

Every past resentment you had against him long forgotten, the future the only thing occupying your mind now. If he's really serious, could you both-

"Let me make it up to you."

You snap out of your thoughts, perplexed by his words. Before you can say anything, he continues.

" Take you out on a date. A proper date. Apologize for real." He takes a deep breath before opening his mouth again, nervous about what was about to come.

"I was serious about earlier, you know. I really do like you. I'm just-" he breathes out, trying to find the right words.

"An asshole?", you answer for him, earning a quick laugh in return. "Yeah. A big one at that." he raises from his position, looking down at you, almost pleading for your approval. "Please, y/n. I'll do anything for you to make it up. Give this - us a chance."

You look up at him, a small smile on your face. "Please," he whispered again once you sit up, carefully taking your hand in his, eyes pleading for a response.

Once your hand reaches up for his cheek, stroking it lovingly while you place a fond kiss against his lips, he got the answer he always wanted.

"Okay, let's try."

©︎𝙎𝘼𝙏𝙍𝙎 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

Do NOT plagiarize, copy, modify, republish, or translate my work in any way!

#◛⑅·˚ ᵂᴼᴿᴷ #♡˳ᴶᴶᴷ #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #gojo smut #x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk gojo #satoru gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo fluff #gojo season 2 #gojo fanfic #gojou satoru x reader

[bestygogirl]

BEST YGO GIRL: SEMI FINALS

Match 2

please use this as an opportunity to say why you like a character, not why you don't.

Propaganda under the cut!

Isis Ishtar

gorgeous, very caring sister, strong duelist, and the only woman to ever make Seto Kaiba squirm

anyways. not only as mentioned above is she the first woman to make kaiba squirm, but she was by all means going to beat him if not for the millennium rod's millennium interference. yami marik admits that she's a strong duelist with a strategy that's been working for literal years-- and given that she's not like, a professional duelist, thats pretty impressive

she also recently got some really cool meta bumps and let me point out that an "ishizu deck" now includes obelisk the tormentor-- which we knew she had prior to giving it to kaiba, but i think it only solidifies my opinion that she very much could wield an Egyptian God Card, an exclusive little club for top tier duelists

as a character she presents herself with an amazing amount of poise and grace, shes compassionate and kind and stays with mai and serenity even though she only just met them. shes struggling through living the past 5 years of her life drowning in guilt for her family's tragedy just because she wanted to make her little brother happy and shadi is a fucking liar. shes foretold her own death and marches towards it grimly but with so much love in her heart. and even then shes 20 years old and holds an important position in the egyptian government that typically requires a doctorate degree AND has been dealing with mariks off-and-on bullshit entirely by her lonesome. she also likes to flex her fortunetelling a little which is awesome i think she should do that more that scene where she tells the guy exactly how the stele is being transported was so everything

speaking of shes got such an attitude. "is it your destiny to waste my time?" iconic. never seen before will never be seen again. watch the duel between her va and joeys its so fucking funny

shes excult. shes doesnt flinch in the face of god nor death. seto kaiba and yami marik respect her. shes so sad and so sweet and battle city couldnt have happened without her.

also her parallels with kaiba are what motivate kaiba to give yugi the card he needed to beat marik.

kaiba, in duelist kingdom, was ready to jump off a ledge if yugi didnt let him through to face pegasus while trying to save mokuba out of sheer desperation to save his little brother. he KNOWS what that dedication feels like and the iron kind of will you need to have to make that kind of gamble. isis is being so fucking legit with what shes saying and he respects that and her judgement enough to change his mind and not only watch the duel, but give yugi a card that eventually helps him win, even if he has no real confidence in the odds. but theres a CHANCE, which is the same thing he taught her when he beat her in a duel. the layers its her faith that moves him to act. which is so crazy

anyway vote isis shes my best friend forever and a real rep for all the 20 year olds who honest to god did not sign up for this bullshit

Aki Izayoi

An abuse victim who isn't the perfect passive figure but gets to work through her complicated feelings about power, agency, and family. Even with Yusei's help, she is the star of the show when she learns to control her powers and reconciles with her father, it is so fun that a ygo heroine gets to take such an antagonistic role bu not be shamed for her anger

please vote for my main girl, aki izayoi. aki was led to believe she was a monster from a young age by her father, who treated her powers like it made her unworthy of love. as a result, divine was able to swoop in and take advantage of aki's low self esteem. for years, aki believed herself unworthy of love and was molded into a living weapon at the hands of authority figures in her life. she was taken advantage of, and thus when she finally comes face to face with yusei, she refuses to believe he could provide her with unconditional friendship. who would want to be around a monster, after all?

aki also nearly beats yusei TWICE in a duel, bringing it down to a single turn difference. she comes toe to toe with him, and it truly is the result of who dueled better. she remains a fierce duelist, btw. the second season, aki gets her duel runner license, and immediately nearly beats the ass of a tournament winning turbo duelist - to the point where once again, a single card is the deciding factor. that's right: she nearly won. if not for a single trap card, aki izayoi would've won.

a fierce duelist who was shaped into a loving, caring woman despite years of being beaten down by the world: aki izayoi. vote for her now on your phones.

#best ygo girl poll #semifinals #yugioh duel monsters #isis ishtar #ishizu ishtar #yugioh 5ds #aki izayoi #akiza izinski

[girlactionfigure]

THE HOLOCAUST WAS IN COLOUR

I woke up today in Jerusalem to the sound of a siren marking Yom HaShoah - Holocaust Memorial Day. The fucking Holocaust. This thing that's there. This thing that every Jewish kid has to learn about far too young. There’s no good age to learn about it. It takes away an innocence whatever age you learn.

It's a lesson of: actually - the worst shit can happen.

Actually - the worst shit did happen.

Actually the worst shit could happen again.

There is no objective proof of God - but Auschwitz did happen. It’s difficult to remain idealistic about human beings after that. If tales of individual acts of heroism that emerged from the Holocaust are supposed to give us solace and an after-taste of hope, the bigger question is what is it that makes these tales such anomalies?? What is it that prevented every person from being a hero? And why did it happen in the first place?

Visiting Auschwitz ruined part of me. It really did. Even before visiting, all that bullshit ruined part of me. I remember seeing images on TV as a kid and that ain't healthy. To see ghouls hanging on barbed wire. Piles of skeleton and flesh. I don't see how it can't ruin anyone if that's you and your kind they were gunning for. The idea that people murdered you because you were born you. The idea that your fellow countrymen turned round and said: actually you're not one of us. Or turned a blind eye, buttoned up their lips, gazed down in silence and left you to deal with it on your own. It's not like this puts joy in your heart. It puts something in your heart that I can't explain. It puts in your heart the sensation that some people don't want your heart to beat. And that's a confusing feeling for any heart: a nexus of emotions. A paralytic, existential moment. The loneliest heart, scarred by barbed wire and frost.

The fact that I can only trace my family tree back a few generations has always gnawed at me. I can only go back so far and then there's nothing. Just a black hole. Part of my connection with planet earth has been blotted out for good. I've been disinherited of my roots - from knowing the specifics of who I am and where I come from.

A few years back I visited Auschwitz - this massive shithole in Poland. And it's not like this death factory could have been a secret. There's no way. People knew. It's huge. It just goes on and on. And there's something weird about it. And you can't quite figure it out. And then you realise - it's all in colour. It's not in black and white. The images we're used to seeing of Auschwitz are black and white. And as horrific as those images are they provide a safe, historical distance. It appears a bygone world far removed from us. But it's here in colour and it's the same world we inhabit. The same air, the same trees, the same rain falling. And the human beings would have been in colour too, with red blood cells and capillaries and hearts beating like ours. They weren’t creatures from yester-year, they were modern human beings with the same body parts and feelings. And they were murdered by modern human beings who also had the same body parts and who probably loved their children and kissed their partners goodnight.

There's more I could write. I could write about mountains of shoes. I could write about piles of hair. I could write about buttons and cutlery and possessions that emerge from the mud in the rain. I remember having a stupid back and forth in my mind over some buttons I found which I put back into the mud. I had this stupid thought that maybe I should have "liberated" the buttons rather than leave them in that shithole - but then thinking that would be stealing? But would it be stealing if they'd been stolen by scum and were now being "taken back" in a spirit of love and solidarity by someone on their side? “Liberating buttons.” Stupid stuff. Ridiculous thoughts that you can somehow do something correct to rectify what happened here and bring some kind of harmony. In the end I left them. The buttons were stolen and they don't belong to Auschwitz - but they belong to the memory of what happened there - so they can at least continue to speak from the mud to anyone who sees them.

If I'm honest, part of me wishes I hadn't visited the place. I came away angry and it killed any absolute faith I have in human beings. As I say, individual tales of heroism and defiance aren’t enough to justify true optimism. They're a plaster to cover up the deeper sickness of who and what we are as a species. There's something worrying about human beings and our capacity for cruelty. A species whose children pick the wings off flies, combined with a propensity to herd mentality, is dangerous. It should trouble all of us. I don't know how we overcome it, keep it restrained, or collectively channel it toward a universally agreed direction that’s aimed at goodness.

If I have one reflection on whatever nonsense it is I'm writing it's this: I think there's a violence in human beings. There is violence in the human soul. There is violence and there is cruelty. But more than that there is fear. Despite our songs and poems, I'm not sure love is the most powerful force on earth. There’s a strong argument to suggest fear is the primary driving force behind the actions of the animal we call a human being. It's fear of freezing to death that causes us to build shelters. It's fear of going hungry that causes us to stock food. It's fear of being ostracised that causes us to ostracise others. It's fear of ridicule that breeds conformity. It's fear that causes people to keep their heads down. And when the moment of danger comes? When the tyrants enter? When the bullies arrive? It's fear that causes people to not speak up. To turn a blind eye. To let someone else take the bullet. People can bombastically jump on the bandwagon and say "never again" but it’s tough to find your voice when face to face with a bully. People can say never again but it’s tough to square up if someone has raised their fist and shown they will use it. It’s tough to be brave when the moment comes and there's so many thoughts going through your mind and your brain and adrenalin decides it's best to shut down and stay quiet for the sake of self-preservation. It’s tough to do good things in this world because the bad things are loud and scary and intimidating. It’s tough for people to rise above fear. There’s a reason why heroes are called lone heroes. They’re uncommon.

That's why it's good to be writing this from Israel where Jews are once again in their ancestral home, the place they forged an indigenous civilisation many thousands of years ago before the Babylonians and Romans forced them into exile. A place where they can ensure that "Never Again" is not left in the hands of a species that pulls the wings off flies. Google the Evian Conference - visit Auschwitz yourself - survival is not a game to be left in the hands of others or based on the strength of promises. Because there's always a chance that when the chips are against you and you call out to friends or others for help, you could be left hanging around wondering when they'll arrive?

And the answer might be:

Never. Again.

So. Anyway. It's 5pm. I need a piss. Then I'll probably eat some bread. A siren went off this morning. Just one final thought before I have a wee. I say that any absolute faith I have in human beings is lost. And that's true. Yet every day I experience such joy at existing. I love walking about, talking to people and connecting with souls cut from the same cloth. I like nature and I like looking at things and if I didn't love science so much I'd probably be a new age nut hugging trees and trying to kiss ants. Being alive is the most beautiful thing I've experienced to date.

And as embarrassed as I am to say it would you look at me trying to finish on a positive note?

Maybe there is something stronger than fear?

The persistant impulse to seek blessings in a world full of curses. The sheer chutzpah of life. The defiance. Not to vanquish the darkness, but to live in spite of the darkness. I can handle a world where Auschwitz took place if I also get to live in a world where there are people I love. I can handle a world where there’s horror if I also get to laugh now and then. And the fact that love, laughter and happiness can blossom in a world where the worst can happen - and has - must count for something. Deep down the impulse to go in search of life’s blessings is within all of us. It’s part of who we are. It’s why we get up each morning. We have to have faith that all will be well even when logic, history and common sense says otherwise. Actually it’s not even a question of faith. We have no choice. I think hope is hardwired into all of us. Deeper than fear. We are a creature that hopes. And sometimes, with the right wind behind us, at the right tide, we make those hopes come true. Sometimes, if you will it, it is no dream.

Lee Kern

This was written in Jerusalem in 2015 on Yom HaShoah - Holocaust Memorial Day

#yom hashoah #Auschwitz #Lee Kern

[lixzey]

Letters.

tw: mentions of self harm and self hate

The Ninth Letter. 

It was a long shot, but Timothée knew he had to. He had to find her. It surprised him, just how much he cared for this girl. He didn't know her, but he was desperate to find her—to understand her. Timothée felt a sense of loyalty to her, vowing to finish her letters one by one—and not skipping to the end. Sure, he could save a lot of time if he'd just go on and skip to the last letter. But that felt like betraying Y/N—as if it was skipping to know the person who'd poured her heart out in the last eight letters. 

Timothée sighed, before closing his laptop and putting it away. He was in a meeting with the private investigator he had just hired two days ago. The trail was undoubtedly cold—because the only clue they had was the stamps on Y/N's letters. Still, the young actor wasn't going to give up that easily. He picked up the next letter and ripped it open. It was dated July 27th, 2023. 

Dear Timothée, 

Don't kill the butterfly,

That's what I heard the girl whispering beside me while I waited outside of my therapist's office. It was a year ago, when I started with Julie. I'd been staring at her, not realizing she was muttering something onto her shaking hands. A whisper, so quiet that I would've missed it if I hadn't been looking at her like an animal at a zoo. She was repeating it again and again, “Don't kill the butterfly.” like some sort of mantra. 

At first, it seemed strange. Because she had a butterfly drawn in black ink on the back of her hand—it wasn't a tattoo—it was smudged, clearly drawn on with a pen. It wasn't until I asked her and realized what the butterfly was. 

It's called The Butterfly Effect, and it's to help people who self harm—people like me. The idea is that every time a person wants to cut, they would draw a butterfly on their wrist and name it after a loved one. You have to let the butterfly fade, and if you cut, the butterfly dies. 

I felt terrible. I've been killing the butterfly, over and over again. 

The next session I had, I asked Julie about the girl—her name was Jane—and when I realized what had happened to her…..Let's just say, I haven't seen anyone so brave. 

I feel like a mistake. A waste of space. If I was brave enough, I'd already done it, but I hadn't. Who knows? Maybe someday, I can and I'll be free from all the bullshit of my life. Or, I'm just taking my time. 

Why am I even still writing to you? I feel like an idiot, wasting my money to get stamps, to send these fucking letters you won't ever read. But what if you are? Maybe you're reading my letters, reading how my life is hell. 

Anyways, I stapled a photo of myself at the end of this letter. I know, I know, I'm an ugly piece of shit. Not like the girls in Hollywood—not like fucking Kylie Jenner. How do I even compete with her? Next to her, I look like a potato with eyes. 

Maybe, just maybe…..

But I don't want to get my hopes up. 

I don't know what to believe in, honestly.

All my love, 

Y/N. 

Timothée stared at the photo, a beautiful girl was staring back at him—she had mesmerizing (y/e/c) eyes and long beautiful (y/h/c) hair. She was smiling. As if she wasn't the girl who wrote the letters he had read. He quickly snapped the photo and sent it to the private investigator. 

Timothée didn't know why she called herself ugly. Does she even look at herself in the mirror? She was beautiful, the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

“Stay with me, Y/N. I'm going to find you, even if it's the last thing I do.”

@lovemelikecrazyiloveyoucrazy @helens3amstuff @gatoenlaciudad

[supercap2319]

Y/N felt Sky grab his wrists and led him to the dance floor as they were locked into a dance. He looks at the blonde in shock and before he can ask what his problem is , he interrupts. "So, I was just thinking and realizing that there was more to you and I then you let on, right?"

They swayed and turned, each footstep treading lightly on the floor as Sky looked at Y/N. His eyes were brilliant and blue as he gave him a look of anticipation, maybe just a hint of longing and curiosity. Other students watched them as they became the center of the dance floor. Everyone wanting to know what was going to happen between them. It was no secret that Sky and Y/N weren't together anymore, but it didn't help that Sky forgot they were ever a thing in the first place, and he wasn't engaged to his ex, Diaspro.

"Yeah, just a little bit." Y/N answers.

"Judging by your face and tone, it was a messy breakup?"

"You could call it that. We broke up because I was going to the realm of Darkness and I had an ex friend compel away all the memories that you had of me. Our time together."

Sky knitted his eyebrows together. "Why the fuck would you do that?"

"Because I didn't want you to put your life on hold for me." Y/N said. "Because I didn't expect to come back here. I wanted you to have a life, Sky. Even if it wasn't with me." The young specialist shot him a look of shock and just a bit of sadness.

"Why would you do that?"

They drew closer as Y/N looked up at Sky. "Look, Sky, I don't want to turn this into a bullshit Delena moment, but do you want me to feel guilty? Because trust me, Sky. I do, ok? I feel horrible, and I'm sorry, but I don't... I don't know what else to tell you. What do you want me to say? I'm sorry? Because I'm not."

The song was picking up tempo, and so were their steps. What I'd give for that first night when you were mine. You were mine. Tried with all that I have to keep you alive. Alive! "If I had the chance to do it all over again, I'd make the same choice. I will always make the choice that I made."

"Yeah? Well, I wouldn't." Sky said. "Because no matter how much I missed you or how much pain I was in, I never would have erased everything we ever had. If the roles were reversed, I'd hang on to every single moment that we had together. Every kiss. Every touch. I would hold on to those memories like a lifeline and hold them inside my heart forever. That's why I can't get close to Diaspro, because my heart belongs to someone who I don't fucking remember."

Sky stroked his face and even though he knew Diaspro was watching them, he could give a fuck. "You may have been able to fool my head, but not my heart. Because it cries out for you. For the other half. My soulmate and there's no magic in the world strong enough to keep me from being with you, Y/N." He leaned down and kissed him on the lips as everyone looked at them in shock, Diaspro especially as the wave of true love's kiss waved around the room.

#x male reader #male reader insert #male x male #sky of eraklyon #Sky of Eraklyon x male reader #sky fate the Winx Saga #Sky x male reader #fate the winx saga #fate winx saga #winx club #Prince Sky #danny griffin #Danny Griffin x male reader #ice fairy #male fairy

[sissylittlefeather]

How the Web Was Woven: Chapter 3

A/N: Buckle in, folks. Shit's about to get real. Once again, this is the time travel/soulmate AU with Elvis and a fem!reader. Prepare yourselves, friends.

Special thanks to @ccab for always being my beta, to @elvisfatass for always being my support, and this time to @tacozebra051 for encouraging me to post this, even when I almost chickened out.

Need to catch up? Here's my Masterlist.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, ANGST, ANGST, AND MORE ANGST, talk of death, grief, etc. Also kissing, cussing, p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie (I promise this is not a smut fest. I tried to make it very tasteful- the sex has a purpose. You'll see why.). But also so much angst and sadness.

Word count: ~2.7k

You jump up and walk slowly towards the portal, your heart beating wildly in your chest...

******

The house is eerily silent and all you can hear is muffled sobs. Thank God you wore a dress that you bought at a vintage shop and not your typical jeans and t-shirt. Although, for the past year, you've been casually wearing clothing from the '50s just in case you stumbled across a portal.

It doesn't take you long to find him. In fact, you damn near trip over him. He's in the same corner of the house you were in, curled up and crying, clutching what looks like a woman's nightgown. Your mind races.

Gladys.

You're exactly 50 years in the past and Gladys Presley died two days ago.

You crouch down and try to approach him slowly. You don't want to scare him. You reach out and gently put a hand on his shoulder. He looks up at you and his mouth drops open.

"Y/n. You're here?"

"I'm here." He grabs you and wraps his arms around your waist, head on your chest as he continues to sob.

"My mother..." He tries to choke out an explanation.

"Shhh, no, I know. You don't have to say it." He cries for a few more minutes and then it dawns on him. He pulls back and his face has changed from abject sorrow to unmitigated rage.

"You know? You knew this was going to happen!" He pushes you away from him.

"Elvis I-"

"You knew and you said NOTHING." Tears start to stream down your face.

"I couldn't say anything. I couldn't tell you."

"BULLSHIT. You could've said something. Anything. So that I could've done something. Or at least spent more time with her. God, how could you?" Your shoulders shake as your tears hit the floor. There's so much venom in his words.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry."

"Just get out."

"Elvis, where am I going to go? The portal is closed. I'm stuck here."

"That's your problem."

"Please." He looks up at you and the depth of his pain is evident on his face. You cup his cheeks in your hands. "I can't change what's in the past. You matter to the world, Elvis. Anything I tell you might ruin that. I know you're in pain right now, but I think you'll understand that when you're not." He nods, so you keep going. "Do you think I wanted to keep this from you? That I wanted to let you hurt like this? Do you know how badly I wanted to save you from this? How hard it was for me to know this was going to happen and be powerless to stop it? I'm here, somehow. This is the best gift I can give you. I'm here to be with you through it. God, I'm so sorry." You press him against your chest again and both of you sob together as you hold him.

You sit like this for a long time, not even noticing exactly how long. Eventually, Elvis falls asleep against you like a spent child and you continue to sit on the floor with him. When one of the maids finds you, she's shocked because she has no idea who you are or how you got there.

"Young lady, who are you?"

"I'm y/n, Elvis's friend from Tupelo." You pray that lie will be enough. Elvis stirs awake when he hears you talking.

"She's my girlfriend. I called her earlier and she came over. Don't worry about it." The maid nods her head skeptically and goes back to doing whatever she was doing. He looks up at you.

"My back is killing me. Come up to my room and we'll get in bed."

"Nobody will ask questions?"

"This is my damn house. They can kiss my ass." As you make your way upstairs with him, your mind wanders back to him referring to you as his girlfriend. If only.

******

You wake up together tangled in sheets and each other. He holds you close to him and kisses your forehead.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you yesterday." He whispers.

"No, it's okay. I would be mad too."

"You really can't tell me anything?"

"I really can't. It might jeopardize too many things. And besides, I know that I won't because the future is what it is."

"That makes my head hurt."

"Yeah, it's complicated." You lay in silence for a little while, arms wrapped around each other. Finally, he speaks.

"I am glad you're here. I've missed you a lot over the past year."

"I missed you too. I've been looking for you everywhere, going to places you performed and all kinds of stuff. I can't believe I found you here."

"Well, I live here."

"I know, but I've been here three times in the last year. I never found a portal." You lay there together for a bit not saying anything. Finally, he speaks again.

"I like your dress." He looks over at the black and white polka dotted garment where you laid it over a chair in his room. You're wearing one of his pajama tops now.

"Thanks. I bought it at a vintage shop."

"That's funny." He almost laughs, but then it's like a shadow passes over him. "I'm sorry I can't be like I was."

Your heart breaks because you know he'll never be quite like that again. He's lost his jovial innocence and even when he's happy later on, there'll always be a small piece of him missing.

"It's okay, Elvis. You're allowed to hurt." He rolls away from you and starts to cry again. You pull on his shoulder gently until he rolls back and you hold him again as he sobs. As he does, you run your fingers through his hair and notice how much shorter it is. Then, you remember that he's been drafted and will have to leave soon. What will you do when he goes? Hopefully, you'll find a portal before then.

He cries until he seemingly can't anymore and then he just lays on your chest trying to breathe.

"What should we do today?" You ask, your stomach rumbling.

"Can we just stay here and do this today?"

"You want to stay in bed?"

"Yeah."

"We can do whatever you want. But I'm gonna need some food." He looks up at you and gives you a small smile.

"Come with me." He gets out of bed and wraps you in his robe. Then, he takes you down to the kitchen, where one of the ladies that works there is doing some dishes.

"My girl is hungry. What do we have to eat in this house?"

"Breakfast or lunch?" You look at your watch. It's almost noon. You didn't realize you slept that long.

"Lunch, I guess?" You look up at him and he nods.

"Sandwiches?" You've read about the sandwiches Elvis eats. You're not sure you're ready to go there.

"Yes, but just peanut butter and bananas for me please."

"How did you... you know what kind of sandwiches I eat?" You smile awkwardly and he shakes his head incredulously.

The woman laughs and starts gathering the ingredients for the sandwiches.

You sit at the table talking while you eat and his mood seems to have improved a little bit. He still doesn't smile, though. When you finish, he grabs your hand.

"Better, honey?"

"Much better. Back to bed?"

"Yes please."

The woman who made the sandwiches raises her eyebrows at your suggestion, but Elvis doesn't notice or doesn't care. You make your way back up the stairs together and barely make it into his room before he falls apart again. He sinks to the floor and you hold him and rock him gently.

You manage to get him back into the bed and he settles against you while you stroke his hair and hum lullabies and gospel songs. He spends most of the day like this in your arms crying on and off. Any time you try to move, he pulls you closer and begs you to stay where you are, so you do. Luckily, the other people in the house seem to know how upset he is, so no one disturbs you. Aside from the maids who know you're there, they probably just think he's in his room alone.

When evening comes, he looks up at you from his place on your chest. It's been about an hour since his last crying spell.

"I think I want to take a shower."

"Okay, that's good."

"I have a headache from crying. I think it'll help."

"I'm sure it will."

"Will you come with me?"

"You want me to sit in the bathroom while you shower?" You're willing to do almost anything for him at this point. It kills you to see him in so much pain.

"I want you to get in the shower with me."

"Elvis, I don't know if that's a good idea."

"Please, y/n. I need you. I just don't want to be alone." His eyes well up again, so you agree quickly.

"Okay. Whatever you need. I'm here." He nods and slowly gets out of bed, pulling you with him. You start the water and he just stands there, so you go to him and help him undress. Once he's naked, you take off your own clothes and then get in the shower together.

The water runs down both of you as he wraps himself around you and cries again, big sobs this time.

"God, why?" He groans into your hair.

"Only He knows." You whisper back, praying that's a decent response. It seems to satisfy him a little because he stands up and nods.

"I'm sorry." He looks down at his feet.

"Elvis, please stop apologizing. I am here for anything. I love you." His eyes snap up to yours and he seems to be searching your face. All the pain and all the grief pause for just a moment as he thinks about what you just said.

"You love me?"

"Of course I do. I should've told you before you left last time." He leans down and presses his lips against yours softly.

"I love you too, y/n. Please don't leave me." You wrap your arms around his waist and lay your head on his chest. You can't stay here forever. Or can you?

You feel his body quake as he begins to cry again, so you pull away from him and get a washcloth. Once it's soapy, you gently run it over him, cleansing him in a ritual of service and love. When his body is clean, you get some shampoo and massage it into his hair. He leans back into the water and rinses it out. You notice that he's stopped crying for the moment as he reaches for the shampoo.

"Can I wash your hair?"

"Oh, um, sure, if you want to." He nods and begins to massage shampoo into your hair. Trading places with you under the water, he leans your head back and rinses your hair under the shower head. When you stand back up, he kisses your forehead.

"Thank you. You're a nice distraction." He puts his hand on your neck and runs his thumb over your lips. He seems to notice for the first time that you're naked.

Your body is beautiful and even through his pain he can appreciate it. His hand trails down your chest to your hip.

"We should get out." You realize what's happening and decide it's probably time to put your clothes back on.

"Please, y/n. Let me make love to you."

"Oh, Elvis, I-"

"Please, I just want to feel something." He whispers as he kisses down your neck. He comes back to your mouth and kisses you lovingly, his tongue grazing yours gently. He whispers again.

"Please."

"Okay." You nod. If this is what he needs, you're not going to deny him. And it's not like you don't want it too. He kisses you more deeply and uses both hands to pull your hips into his, pressing his erection into your lower stomach. Bending his knees slightly, he lifts one of your legs and enters you slowly. Once he's fully pushed into you, he groans softly.

The intimacy of this moment, with the water streaming down your body and his connection with you undeniable, washes over him and he loves you completely. When he moves in and out of you, it's not driven by lust, but by a need to feel as close to you as possible. He has wrapped you around him like a much-needed security blanket and every thrust brings you closer together. Everywhere your skin touches is an opportunity for shared pleasure and he needs it so badly.

You whimper softly with the sensation of him pushing inside you so gently. You've never made love like this before and there's a softness to it that fills you with affection for him. Your arms are wrapped around his neck and you pepper him with small kisses on his face.

The weight of your connection is not lost on either of you as you move together. He begins to pump with a little more speed and you know he's approaching the inevitable end. Neither of you wants the moment of closeness to expire, but you know that it must.

When the end does come, he moans softly and tangles his fingers in your hair, kissing you with every ounce of passion in his body. He lowers your leg carefully, pulling out of you gently and pressing his forehead to yours.

"I love you. I love you with all of me." Tears come to both of you, mixing with the water that's still running down your bodies.

"I am yours, Elvis." He kisses you again and pulls you close to him, reaching behind you to turn the water off. You open the shower curtain and step out and he wraps both of you in a large towel. You're so wrapped up in each other that you don't even notice it.

It's not until you almost step through it that you see the portal.

"No!" He says it loudly when he realizes what it is. You turn and grab him tightly.

"I don't wanna go."

"Then don't. Stay here with me forever."

"Elvis, you know I can't." You're both crying frantically now.

"You can't leave me here like this without you."

"I don't have a choice!"

"There's always a choice!"

"No. I know what your future is and it isn't me. It can't be me."

"I can't lose you too." His voice is so thick with emotion as you run into his room and dress quickly. He stands and stares at you, tears streaming down his face. You walk to him and hold his face in your hands.

"You're not losing me. You'll never lose me. I will find you again. Or you find me. We've done it twice now. I believe we can do it again."

"If I find you, I'm not leaving."

"Don't say that."

"Goddammit, y/n, why is this happening to us?!"

"I don't know! But I'm so glad it is." You choke on the last part of the sentence and he holds you so tightly it's almost hard to breathe.

"I love you." He kisses the top of your head.

"I love you too, but I have to go." He releases you and kisses your mouth again.

"I will find you. I promise." You nod and walk away from him towards the bathroom, half hoping that the portal has closed.

But it hasn't. The air is still wavy and the buzzing sound fills the small room. He stands in the doorway naked with the towel wrapped around his waist. You give him one last sad smile and walk through.

He sinks to the floor and weeps. How will he survive this without you?

******

You're back in the corner of Graceland where you found the first portal. Your hair is wet and wild and you're crying and a tour guide is shocked to come upon you in such a state. Still, she's found weirder things in the mansion, so she gently escorts you out of the house. When you finally get back to your car, you sit in the driver's seat and cry hysterically. How will you find him again?

******

Please come back for Chapter 4!

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Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @ashtag6887 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @that-hotdog @tacozebra051

#elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis presley #elvis presley fic #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis presley x y/n #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #elvis presley x you #elvis presley fanfic #elvis fanfiction #elvis fic #how the web was woven

[imastrangeone98]

So it's time for some bullshit- for some reason, I wanna see Jing yuan (my luck on getting him was so gooooood im so happy just thinking about it 😍) have a lover who owns a bakery :D minors gtfo there will be smut later (cuz it's me lol)

It's a small, humble shop tucked away in the corner of the Central Starskiff Haven, yet every day, without fail, lines would form from opening to closing time. Customers would wait patiently to order the most popular item on the menu: a dozen salted egg custard buns, piping hot from the steamers.

You serve and serve, always keeping an eye on the clock so you can greet your most favored guests. And they arrive like clockwork: Yanqing, who eagerly bounces toward you just as you close the shop temporarily for lunch, and Jing Yuan trailing behind him with a lazy smirk on his lips.

The young lad never fails to thank you every time with a larger-than-life smile that makes his eyes crinkle around the corners, skipping away with several fresh buns in hand.

His mentor, on the other hand, doesn't disappear as quickly. He helps you set up your small break table, placing your lunch on top, and flits about the kitchen to whip up a pot of freshly brewed jasmine tea before seating himself across from you. And he listens intently at your stories about your customers: the one who always seems to lack spare change, the one who is currently celebrating the birth of a child, the one who seeks some stress relief from the labors of the artisanship commission through food, the one who flirts constantly with you to both your amusement and annoyance. (Jing Yuan's eye twitches just the slightest at this particular one, so you quickly change topics).

Whenever you think to stop your stories, which must be so much duller compared to his grand tales of warfare and negotiations, he gently grabs hold of your hand and presses it his cheek, tilting his head to press kisses to your knuckles. A silent encouragement to keep talking. So you do, regaling him with tale after tale until your lunchbox is empty and it's time to reopen.

He helps you clean up the table and packs away your lunchbox for cleaning, sets aside the empty teapot, and heaves a great, resigned sigh. You laugh at the dread in his eyes of returning to the Seat of Divine Foresight, so you grab the back of his neck to pull him in for a deep kiss, licking at the bottom of his lip for good measure.

When you pull away, you're both gasping for air, a small string of saliva connecting your mouths together still. Yuan stares at you, hearts in his eyes, and pulls you in for another kiss. Then another, and another, until he's tugging at your shirt, whining for you to close the shop for the day and return home with him.

The ache between your thighs begs for you to agree, but you know better than to give into his whims too easily. Especially knowing that the reward will be all the sweeter with patience. So with one final kiss to his addicting lips, you send him off on his merry way, a promise to reunite later on lingering in the air and in both your minds as you reopen your store, already sighing at the long queue beginning to form, and Jing Yuan returns to the Seat of Divine Foresight, eagerly anticipating when he can leave once more.

(again it wouldn't be me without some horrible smut- everything up to here is gn!reader, so plz do not read further than this if fem!reader is not your thing. Again, it's fem!reader from this point on- you have been warned)

"Be patient, you said," Yuan hisses into your ear, thrusting harder into your sore cunt. He moans, deep and hoarse, right by your ear, and you squirm in his grip. But he shuts it down immediately, forcing your head deeper into the pillows. "I've been patient. Don't you think I deserve a reward?"

Each word is emphasized with a powerful thrust of his hips. You would've smacked your head on the headboard if he didn't have such a tight grip on your hair as he took you from behind.

"Yuan," you heave, but whatever you want to say is brutally fucked out of you. His hips slam the air out of your lungs, and you have to scrabble onto your wobbly arms to catch your breath. That is, if he doesn't push your head down into the pillows yet again.

"Hold... hold still," your lover whimpers above you. "Just a little... more-"

Yuan angles himself, and suddenly, his cock is hitting deeper inside you. You swear he's reaching your cervix, and you yelp. He's close. You can sense it even in your lust-fueled haze.

Yuan's thrusts increase in speed and ferocity, sore cockhead ramming repeatedly into your sensitive spot. You squeal and cum hard, legs shaking from the force.

He moans, hips jolting against yours as he spills inside you. It's hot and so filling; if you weren't so cockdrunk, you could've felt it in your belly.

He huffs, pants warm on your ear. You feel him press kisses on your skin before his hands gently wrap around your midriff, lifting you up and turning you on your back. You gaze up at him blearily: ruddy cheeks, heaving chest, hearts in his eyes. He smiles at you gently before collapsing on top of you with a hearty guffaw. You wheeze at the solid weight of him, and jokingly slap at his arm before succumbing to his whims.

You nuzzle into his neck, and you swear that he purrs at your touch. "You seemed like you enjoyed yourself~" you can't help but tease.

He hummed in agreement, turning on his side to grin at you. But it quickly disappears into a childish pout. "We could've been 'enjoying' ourselves much earlier if you just came home with me..." he grumbles.

A sly smile crosses your lips, and in an instant, you pounce on him. When he turns on his back, you jump into his lap and grind on his softened, sensitive cock, moaning at the stimulation on your sore clit. He groans, hands flying to your waist to keep you still.

"Then let's just enjoy ourselves now~" you whisper in his ear, sliding up until the tip of his length catches on to your hole.

And Jing Yuan, the mighty general of the Xianzhou Luofu, does nothing but throw his head back and moan as you send him to another high.

#honkai star rail #jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #hsr smut #hsr x reader

[spankinganthologies]

by Girlsbeingspanked - Living at Home

Four words that made her heart skip a beat.

"Go pick a switch"

"You march that butt of yours up to your room and you think about what you did, young lady! I will not have a thief living under MY roof! Do you understand me? That whuppin' you just got will pale in comparison to what you get if you ever get mixed up with this kind of bullshit ever again! Is that clear!?"

"You march your butt right to that corner, young lady, and you stay there with your panties right where they are until I tell you you're allowed to pull them up. And if I catch you rubbing your bottom, you're getting another spanking, even harder than the one you just got! Do I make myself clear?"

"It's time for a serious reality check, young lady. Your attitude is out of control and your behavior is disgraceful. The truth of it is that you're not too old to be put over my knee for good spanking! Not as long as you're living under my roof. I think a pants-down spanking is exactly what you need and have needed for a long, long time! You need to learn who is in charge in this house and how to behave yourself like a proper young lady. Do you understand me? There's going to be a new law of land around here, so you better get used to it!"

"Consider that a warning, young lady. Keep acting like a little brat and I won't hesitate to put you across my knee and spank your butt raw until you learn how to behave. I don't care how old you are - as long as you live in this house, you will live by our rules and you will give your mother the respect she deserves. Do you understand me?"

"Do I need to take my brush out of my purse and teach you a lesson, young lady!?"

At this particular private school, after sagging grades and test scores across the board, there was understandably some concern. After much deliberation and debate, it was decided that the school would put much more emphasis on discipline - uniforms and the paddle would be making a strong comeback for the foreseeable future.

Unfortunately for Ms. Gray, this return to discipline applied to the young teaching staff, as well as to the students - with some noticeable differences. Unlike the students, who were paddled on their panties, the teachers could be paddled bare ass when it was deemed necessary. They also were subject to many more than the 3 or 6 swats doled out to the students. 

Ms. Gray made the mistake of showing up to work wildly hung over. She tried her best to hide it, but ultimately, the headmaster caught wind of the situation. After school, in one of the detention rooms, Ms. Gray lowered her panties, bent over and got her big butt paddled like a naughty little girl. Her cheeks were painted an angry, blotchy red as the headmaster showed her no mercy. Though there were no witnesses to her paddling, other members of the faculty and even some of the students overheard the whole ordeal. 

Afterward, with her bottom still bare, she graded papers and finished her work in private detention. When it was time for her to leave, Ms. Gray was warned that if she had any more alcohol-related incidents at school, she could expect a paddling twice as bad as the one she had just received, but next time she would be completely naked. 

#girlsbeingspanked #mom spanks #small town in Texas #twenties

[yantao-enthusiast]

the midnights era is so underrated. i'm not getting my revenge. i'm not hopelessly in love. no, i'm staring at the ceiling, know that once i fall asleep tomorrow will start but with my weary consciousness, i'm left with the thoughts of everything i've ever done. there's such a comfort in this subliminal space in this barren time. there's no one to judge me except myself. that one person i dated and never talked to again, do they ever think about me? i hear the crickets chirping while i'm crying in the bathtub. i hate my body but it's the one i have. actually, the world we live in is such a beautiful place and it's so soft and full of wonders that wouldn't exist without its quirks. when i was young, i wanted to be a dancer. i wonder what she would think of me now. she's still here, in my heart. actually she would probably hate me, like everyone else rightfully does. all i do is hurt people and every bit of my kindness is complicated and calculated. do you think about me? do you think about how you hurt me with your complicated bullshit before coming back like nothing's wrong? do you stare at the wall, wishing you did something different just like me? actually no. fuck you. fuck you and fuck everyone who ever hurt me. i'll ruin your life and you'll never know it was me. i'm hot shit and god the bathroom mirror makes me look so sexy. i'm going to put on a sparkly dress and dance because you don't deserve my sadness. oh shit wait i'm in love. that's terrifying. it's delicate and confusing yet so effortlessly simple. okay back to fuck you. i don't even have to do anything. that's how much the universe loves me. that's how much kindness and love is in my heart. oh also i love this person so much. they love me. they don't expect anything from me. they're like the blanket wrapped around me in the darkest hours, keeping me warm, keeping me alive. oh yeah i also orchestrated this person's presence into my life because that's the only way i know to get people to love me. but they know that. and they love me all the same.

oh look it's 3am now. how the fuck did that happen. god remember the time we were going through it? yeah but we had each other. i'm sorry for hurting you, pushing you away during that time when we were both struggling. you just wanted to help. and you did. maybe i'll tell them in the morning. would that be weird? maybe she'll get the message telepathically. man what if nothing wrong ever happened to me. i'll never be that girl. i'll never be the person i would've been if everything was normal in my life. fuck my life. oh right i'm in love. love this handsome fella. he makes me have vivid hallucinations about being in paris. i mean who need to go to paris when i got my baby with me??? who needs to pay attention to anything else? actually. this is really off topic. i cheated on someone once. yes i know i shouldn't have. but i was dying, stranded in a loveless land, and he saved me. yes i shouldn't have cheated on you but maybe you should've loved me. this relationship was a mistake. i didn't mean to love you. but i did. i'm in your arms and i don't remember how i got there. it's wrong. it's right. i never wanted this. nothing else will ever be as good as you. oh god i'm 19 all over again. with just one glance, i'm transported back into that time when i ached with every step, begged for just a piece of you when you're the one who looked at me. i wish i could go back. i am back. i just can't change anything. you have stolen a piece of me i will never get back and it's been so long but you can never get over the pain of losing yourself. but you don't have to worry about that, right? because you never gave anything. just like you'll never give my girlhood back. i wish i could keep anyone else from feeling that pain. i want to tell them all what i've learned from all the years i've been hurt. but why should anyone listen to me? i'm still a wreck, still figuring it all out, shouldn't they get advice from someone who actually knows how to navigate this messy existence? does it even matter? i'm in a state of paralysis, forever wondering, unable to get closure. it's too late. every midnight.

#i'm just saying. #tldr put some respect on midnights' name!!!!!! #midnights appreciation post #THE midnights appreciation post #actually #she's literally just spittin..... #it's giving late night adhd depression babygirl #midnights #midnights era #taylor swift #a tag for my very long posts about taylor swift #<3

[eskawrites]

What about 18 “You look like hell.” “I feel like it.” Would there be anyway to tie that into the Russian Robin spy bits you’ve been doing because I love them sm

how did you know this perfectly aligns with what i was thinking for the Russian Robin au?

russian robin drabble part one | part two

-

Nancy isn't surprised that Hopper is furious with her. She's not surprised when Murray goes on a two hour rant about how reckless she is, and how they're all certainly going to die now that she's let Robin run back to her handlers. She's not surprised by the sad, torn look Joyce gives her, or the way Steve shuts himself in his house and stops talking to all of them.

She is, however, completely taken aback when Dustin shows up at the Wheeler house in the middle of the night, banging on the door and demanding to talk to her and only her.

"What's going on? What's wrong?" she asks, trying to pull him inside so he doesn't wake the neighbors as well as everyone in her house. But Dustin tugs his arm from her grasp and stays stubbornly on the front step.

"You need to come with me. This is top secret--you're the only one we can trust."

"We?"

"Just come on, Nancy!"

She barely has enough time to grab her backpack that's sitting by the front door before he's grabbing her and pulling her along. She's in pajama pants and a sweatshirt that once belonged to Robin, running barefoot against the pavement, and then the grass, and then through the woods.

Dustin leads her further and further away from the center of town, deeper into the trees. They're heading vaguely toward the Byers' old house, she realizes.

Mirkwood, she thinks, her heart sinking.

"Dustin," she says, "what's going on?"

He slows to a walk, but there's still something frantic to his movement as he pulls her along.

"Don't get mad, okay?" he says. "You're the one who helped her escape."

"What are you--"

"Finally!" says another voice from the trees--young, impatient, and unexpected enough to completely confuse Nancy. Erica steps into view with her arms crossed. "You've been gone for ages!"

"I went as fast as I could," Dustin protests. "Have you seen anything?"

"Nothing. You told me to stay put, remember?"

"Yeah, I'm surprised you listened for once."

"What's going on?" Nancy says again, cutting off Erica's protest. "What the hell are you two doing out here?"

Erica gives Dustin a look. "You didn't tell her?"

"I was working on it!" He turns toward Nancy. "We found her, okay? But we need your help."

Nancy stares. "You--what are you talking about?"

"What do you think I'm talking about? Robin!"

"She left a week ago, she can't be--"

"Look, I've been monitoring Cerebro listening for Russian transmissions, just in case I pick up something. I figure..." He shifts his weight. "If she went back to them, I thought we should know about it."

"Bullshit, Dustin," Erica says. He throws his hands up.

"Fine! I was worried about her. Just like you, Erica. And you, Nance, 'cause you're the one who let her go. So I wanted to keep an ear out just in case she needed us. And it's a good thing I did, because we overheard them talking about her earlier tonight."

Nancy closes her eyes. The world is spinning. She kind of thinks she might be sick. She shakes her head a little.

"Cut to the chase, Dustin," she says, eyes still closed. "What did you hear, and why do you need me?"

"They found her." His voice is tight. Nancy clenches her jaw. "But apparently they underestimated her, because they reported casualties and said she got away."

"And now?"

"As far as I can tell, they have no idea where she went. But based on where they saw her last--and, okay, this is fully just an educated guess, I admit, but--"

"She's close by," Erica says impatiently. "And we need to find her. We need to help her."

Nancy opens her eyes again, glancing around. "You know, the last time you picked up confidential Russian messages, it didn't end well for anyone."

"Robin is our friend," Dustin says, his voice surprisingly sharp. "She's a lot of other things, too, but that part hasn't changed. If she needs us, I'm going to be there for her. So are you going to help us or not?"

She bites back a sigh. "How long ago were they talking about Robin?"

"It's been a couple hours."

"She could be long gone by now."

"She could've been long gone days ago, but she wasn't," he argues. "So?"

"Fine." She slides her backpack off her shoulder and digs through it until she finds the revolver. She pulls it out, checks it over, and pulls the backpack back on. "But you both do as I say, when I say it. Got it?"

They both nod. Nancy moves in front of both of them and starts walking deeper into the forest.

For a long time, they don't see anything. Nancy bites her tongue to keep from pointing out that Robin is a trained soldier, and the odds of them finding her in the middle of the woods, in the dark, with no real trail to follow are low, even if she is injured. But she thinks about the fact that Robin is very likely injured--if not freezing or starving or any other manner of nearly dead--and she keeps her mouth shut and keeps walking.

She's just about to suggest Dustin and Erica head home--her nerves are getting the better of her in the dark, in the woods, with the thought of Russians and demogorgons and whatever else might be lurking in the shadows--when she sees a tree with a patch of bark scraped cleanly off.

"There," she says, nodding toward it. "She's close."

"Because of the tree?" Erica asks.

"Look at the marks. It's too clean to be an animal. She must have done it with a knife, to make kindling probably."

Robin had taught her how to make a fire last summer, pointing out which twigs and branches were dry and which were too green still, showing her how she could figure it out for herself. But if it's rained recently, Robin had said, you might need to dig a little to get dry wood. Shaving pieces from your firewood works, but you can scrape into a standing tree too if you need to.

Nancy had asked how Robin knew all this. I went camping a lot as a kid had been her answer.

She shakes her head. "She's close," she says again.

The click of a gun cocking sounds nearby. Really close, maybe. Still, Nancy raises the revolver and reaches back to push Erica and Dustin behind her. She looks through the trees, trying to spot any sign of Robin or whoever else might be out here.

She doesn't see her, but she does hear her--a faint, disbelieving voice calling out softly, "Nancy?"

"Robin!" Dustin cries, too loud. He runs ahead of Nancy before she can grab him.

"Dustin!" She follows, heart in her throat, but he doesn't go far. He skids to a halt about twenty feet ahead, staring at--

Robin, slumped against an old, rotten stump, arm wrapped tightly around her own waist, a weak, wry smile filling her face as she sees them.

She's covered in mud, clothes torn and filthy, hair messy around her face. The hand holding her gun drops suddenly, as if giving out. She winces a little as she tries to sit up.

"You're barefoot," she says, looking at Nancy.

Nancy stares back. She's sitting awkwardly against the stump, painfully. There are bloodstains on her shirt where she's holding herself. There's a split in her lip and a bruise blooming around her eye, too. She is, though, wearing shoes. Her tattered Converse she'd been wearing when Hopper came back into town with the news that she was a traitor.

"You look like hell."

Robin gives a dry laugh. "I feel like it."

Something breaks in Nancy, tension withering away in the air between them. She stumbles forward and falls to her knees beside Robin.

"I told you to stay safe," she says, reaching out carefully to peel Robin's arm away from her waist.

"If I remember right, you told me not to fail. And I didn't. Bastards'll be running home with their tails between their legs now."

Nancy manages to move her enough to get a clear look at the wound, but the only thing she can really tell is that it's bad. Robin's skin is freezing to the touch.

"What did you do, Robs?" she whispers.

"What I said I would." Robin tries to sit up again, voice and body straining. "I--I want to protect you, Nance. I need to protect you. All of you. I--"

Nancy reaches out and stills her. Robin is breathing hard, beads of sweat gathering at her hairline, but she relaxes slightly under Nancy's touch.

"We need to get her out of here," Dustin says. Robin's eyes flick toward him.

"You shouldn't be here. Either of you," she adds, looking at Erica, too.

Erica crosses her arms over her chest. "Try and stop us."

"You--"

"Dustin's right," Nancy says before an argument can break out. "You need help, Robin."

"M'fine." Her arm falls against her waist again, trying and failing to cover the blood soaking her shirt.

Nancy leans closer and lowers her voice. "You're hurt. Badly. You didn't even try to bandage it?"

"I--" Robin stares at her, eyes wide and searching. "I don't have anything--"

"Then let us help you."

"No. There's nothing you can do, anyway."

"We can make sure you don't bleed to death," Erica snaps.

"By what? Taking the Russian spy to the hospital?" Robin laughs again, weak and hollow, and Nancy feels it scrape through her own chest. "Unless one of you is a field surgeon, there's nothing to be done. You should just go before someone finds you here."

"No way," says Dustin. Beside him, Erica crosses her arms over her chest and nods in agreement.

Robin scowls at them, then turns to Nancy, her gaze suddenly pleading.

Nancy sets her jaw. "You're coming with us, Robs."

"Nancy. Don't."

"Shut up. Dustin, come help me get her on her feet."

He does as he's told, and Robin can't do much but let them take her by the arms and help her up. Nancy lets Dustin support Robin's weight for a moment while she quickly sheds her sweatshirt and wads it up. Then she takes her place back under Robin's arm and presses the sweatshirt to her waist. Robin bites her lip, but she doesn't make a sound as Nancy applies pressure.

"Is there anyone around?" Nancy asks her quietly. Robin shakes her head.

"No one followed me. We should be fine."

"Good. Now come on. Erica keep an eye out."

"Got it."

"Nance," Robin breathes.

Nancy looks up at her and sees tears in her eyes. But whatever Robin was going to say doesn't make it out. She just shakes her head and closes her eyes, letting Dustin and Nancy help her back through the trees.

#and then they get back to hopper who is about to have an ulcer from all their shenanigans #russian robin #asks #anon #ronance

[rayslittlekitten]

All I Have To Give

“Crush” Masterlist

A/N: So "From the Bottom of My Broken Heart" came on shuffle and it made me think of young Benny. My headcanon is Benny absolutely loves pop music, particularly boybands in the late 90s-early 2000 era. Also that he's a hopeless romantic and everything kinda fell into place with him in the "Crush" universe. Hope you enjoy this little cute piece about Benny with pop songs sprinkled in there.

Rating: G

Word Count: 559

Pairing: Benny Miller & BFF! GN!Reader (reader is F in some of the other fics, but this can be read as GN), Benny Miller x OCs (named and unnamed)

Plot: Benny’s got all the love to give and he's been trying to find someone to give it all to.

Contains: Benjamin being a hopeless romantic and some late 90s-early 2000 pop music references

There goes your best friend nervously walking up to the waitress who's been the apple of his eye for the last two months. He thinks that her memorizing his usual order is a sign she's interested. You don't want to burst his little bubble letting him know she also memorized yours.

That lover boy is the most hopelessly romantic person you've ever met - to a fault. Once he falls in love, he gets tunnel vision and obsesses over them. You blame it on pop music. He'll never publicly admit it, but the Backstreet Boys are his favorite boyband. He never learns his lesson though. His heart has been broken so many times, you're sure it has turned into sand. You gotta admire him though. All these rejections and heartaches never deters him from looking for love again. He's just a puppy. Literally. Give him head pets and treats, and he'll eat out of the palm of your hands.

You remember in the summer after sophomore year, on the last day of school, Ben worked up the courage to ask his current crush at the time, Kristina out after being the Invisible Man all year. He even got a summer job so he knew he'd have money to take her out. She said yes, and after a few dates, you both saw her getting cozy with a different blonde - Jaime Carter, who had a resemblance to Nick Carter. He would even tell girls that he's related to him, which you both knew was bullshit.

That summer, you must have heard Britney's "From the Bottom of my Broken Heart" more times than any song ever. NSYNC's "Bye Bye Bye" was a close second. As much as he loved "Show Me The Meaning of Being Lonely", the reminder of Nick Carter made it worse. Lover Boy was hurting and pop music was his way to soothe his heart.

Then a month later, Linda walked into the doors of his job and subsequently, into his life. As he described it to you, it was like a movie moment. It happened in slow motion while Savage Garden’s “I Knew I Loves You” played in the background. When summer ended, so did his time with Linda when she went back home. She was only in town to visit family. Gone.

Once school started again, and the new girl became the new object of his affection. He worked up the courage to ask her to the Junior Winter Wonderland Bash and Christmas came early for him when she said yes. Couple of months later, he felt like his death came early when she became someone else's valentine. All or Nothing.

Then there was Tina from the music store, Becky from the movie theater, Maria from Blockbuster, Vivian at the bowling alley. Rinse, recycle and repeat. This went well into adulthood.

And today? No different. You watch Benny as he makes his way back to the booth with an extra pep in his step.

"I got her number!" Benny flashes the napkin along with his teeth.

"Good job!" You high five him and tussle his hair. "You want the rest of my fries?" you offer.

"Oooh!" His eyes light up and his ears perk up as he digs in.

20 years later and still a puppy. And every time, you hope he gets his fairytale ending.

#garrett hedlund #garrett hedlund fanfiction #benny miller #benny miller fanfiction #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #crush

[girlactionfigure]

THE HOLOCAUST WAS IN COLOUR

I woke up today in Jerusalem to the sound of a siren marking Yom HaShoah - Holocaust Memorial Day. The fucking Holocaust. This thing that's there. This thing that every Jewish kid has to learn about far too young. There’s no good age to learn about it. It takes away an innocence whatever age you learn.

It's a lesson of: actually - the worst shit can happen.

Actually - the worst shit did happen.

Actually the worst shit could happen again.

There is no objective proof of God - but Auschwitz did happen. It’s difficult to remain idealistic about human beings after that. If tales of individual acts of heroism that emerged from the Holocaust are supposed to give us solace and an after-taste of hope, the bigger question is what is it that makes these tales such anomalies?? What is it that prevented every person from being a hero? And why did it happen in the first place?

Visiting Auschwitz ruined part of me. It really did. Even before visiting, all that bullshit ruined part of me. I remember seeing images on TV as a kid and that ain't healthy. To see ghouls hanging on barbed wire. Piles of skeleton and flesh. I don't see how it can't ruin anyone if that's you and your kind they were gunning for. The idea that people murdered you because you were born you. The idea that your fellow countrymen turned round and said: actually you're not one of us. Or turned a blind eye, buttoned up their lips, gazed down in silence and left you to deal with it on your own. It's not like this puts joy in your heart. It puts something in your heart that I can't explain. It puts in your heart the sensation that some people don't want your heart to beat. And that's a confusing feeling for any heart: a nexus of emotions. A paralytic, existential moment. The loneliest heart, scarred by barbed wire and frost.

The fact that I can only trace my family tree back a few generations has always gnawed at me. I can only go back so far and then there's nothing. Just a black hole. Part of my connection with planet earth has been blotted out for good. I've been disinherited of my roots - from knowing the specifics of who I am and where I come from.

A few years back I visited Auschwitz - this massive shithole in Poland. And it's not like this death factory could have been a secret. There's no way. People knew. It's huge. It just goes on and on. And there's something weird about it. And you can't quite figure it out. And then you realise - it's all in colour. It's not in black and white. The images we're used to seeing of Auschwitz are black and white. And as horrific as those images are they provide a safe, historical distance. It appears a bygone world far removed from us. But it's here in colour and it's the same world we inhabit. The same air, the same trees, the same rain falling. And the human beings would have been in colour too, with red blood cells and capillaries and hearts beating like ours. They weren’t creatures from yester-year, they were modern human beings with the same body parts and feelings. And they were murdered by modern human beings who also had the same body parts and who probably loved their children and kissed their partners goodnight.

There's more I could write. I could write about mountains of shoes. I could write about piles of hair. I could write about buttons and cutlery and possessions that emerge from the mud in the rain. I remember having a stupid back and forth in my mind over some buttons I found which I put back into the mud. I had this stupid thought that maybe I should have "liberated" the buttons rather than leave them in that shithole - but then thinking that would be stealing? But would it be stealing if they'd been stolen by scum and were now being "taken back" in a spirit of love and solidarity by someone on their side? “Liberating buttons.” Stupid stuff. Ridiculous thoughts that you can somehow do something correct to rectify what happened here and bring some kind of harmony. In the end I left them. The buttons were stolen and they don't belong to Auschwitz - but they belong to the memory of what happened there - so they can at least continue to speak from the mud to anyone who sees them.

If I'm honest, part of me wishes I hadn't visited the place. I came away angry and it killed any absolute faith I have in human beings. As I say, individual tales of heroism and defiance aren’t enough to justify true optimism. They're a plaster to cover up the deeper sickness of who and what we are as a species. There's something worrying about human beings and our capacity for cruelty. A species whose children pick the wings off flies, combined with a propensity to herd mentality, is dangerous. It should trouble all of us. I don't know how we overcome it, keep it restrained, or collectively channel it toward a universally agreed direction that’s aimed at goodness.

If I have one reflection on whatever nonsense it is I'm writing it's this: I think there's a violence in human beings. There is violence in the human soul. There is violence and there is cruelty. But more than that there is fear. Despite our songs and poems, I'm not sure love is the most powerful force on earth. There’s a strong argument to suggest fear is the primary driving force behind the actions of the animal we call a human being. It's fear of freezing to death that causes us to build shelters. It's fear of going hungry that causes us to stock food. It's fear of being ostracised that causes us to ostracise others. It's fear of ridicule that breeds conformity. It's fear that causes people to keep their heads down. And when the moment of danger comes? When the tyrants enter? When the bullies arrive? It's fear that causes people to not speak up. To turn a blind eye. To let someone else take the bullet. People can bombastically jump on the bandwagon and say "never again" but it’s tough to find your voice when face to face with a bully. People can say never again but it’s tough to square up if someone has raised their fist and shown they will use it. It’s tough to be brave when the moment comes and there's so many thoughts going through your mind and your brain and adrenalin decides it's best to shut down and stay quiet for the sake of self-preservation. It’s tough to do good things in this world because the bad things are loud and scary and intimidating. It’s tough for people to rise above fear. There’s a reason why heroes are called lone heroes. They’re uncommon.

That's why it's good to be writing this from Israel where Jews are once again in their ancestral home, the place they forged an indigenous civilisation many thousands of years ago before the Babylonians and Romans forced them into exile. A place where they can ensure that "Never Again" is not left in the hands of a species that pulls the wings off flies. Google the Evian Conference - visit Auschwitz yourself - survival is not a game to be left in the hands of others or based on the strength of promises. Because there's always a chance that when the chips are against you and you call out to friends or others for help, you could be left hanging around wondering when they'll arrive?

And the answer might be:

Never. Again.

So. Anyway. It's 5pm. I need a piss. Then I'll probably eat some bread. A siren went off this morning. Just one final thought before I have a wee. I say that any absolute faith I have in human beings is lost. And that's true. Yet every day I experience such joy at existing. I love walking about, talking to people and connecting with souls cut from the same cloth. I like nature and I like looking at things and if I didn't love science so much I'd probably be a new age nut hugging trees and trying to kiss ants. Being alive is the most beautiful thing I've experienced to date.

And as embarrassed as I am to say it would you look at me trying to finish on a positive note?

Maybe there is something stronger than fear?

The persistant impulse to seek blessings in a world full of curses. The sheer chutzpah of life. The defiance. Not to vanquish the darkness, but to live in spite of the darkness. I can handle a world where Auschwitz took place if I also get to live in a world where there are people I love. I can handle a world where there’s horror if I also get to laugh now and then. And the fact that love, laughter and happiness can blossom in a world where the worst can happen - and has - must count for something. Deep down the impulse to go in search of life’s blessings is within all of us. It’s part of who we are. It’s why we get up each morning. We have to have faith that all will be well even when logic, history and common sense says otherwise. Actually it’s not even a question of faith. We have no choice. I think hope is hardwired into all of us. Deeper than fear. We are a creature that hopes. And sometimes, with the right wind behind us, at the right tide, we make those hopes come true. Sometimes, if you will it, it is no dream.

Lee Kern

This was written in Jerusalem in 2015 on Yom HaShoah - Holocaust Memorial Day

#yom hashoah #Auschwitz #Lee Kern

[knoxvillesjackass]

Hi! So I had an idea for a young johnny x fem reader smut after listening to the song "save that shit" by lil peep basically I imagined the reader and johnny are dating but his stunts are getting progressively more and more dangerous and she can't take it anymore and the last straw for her is when he does a stupid stunt (maybe like jumping off of something) and gets hurt again and they have a massive argument and she says she's going to leave him and at some point during the argument he says "Do I make you scared? Baby, won't you take me back?" Maybe she even says she wishes she had a "normal" boyfriend and johnny says "Im nothin' like them other motherfuckers, I can make you rich." And the argument leads to angry sex but then they make up and fluff in the end(?)

Sorry if this is all over the place or too complicated to do, I totally understand

I love your writing btw, especially your latest johnny fic!

Thanks :)

𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭 - 𝐣.𝐤

i wrote this when i was sleep-deprived following a nervous breakdown because uni starts next week, so i'm sorry for how this turned out, but i hope it's somewhat readable?

warnings! degrading dirty talk, angry sex, choking, missionary, thigh riding!

words; 2.430

You couldn't even call this a stunt. No, this was merely shits and giggles, and you were having none of it.

"Jeff, please tell him to quit this shit, now."

Johnny wouldn't listen to you, you were sure of it, but maybe he'd listen to Tremaine, but who were you kidding? Tremaine was just as insane as everyone else in the crew.

You watched as Johnny climbed a fifty-foot crane with the intent of jumping from it, with nothing but a flimsy parachute to protect his fall.

You were repulsed by the stunt, but even more by how your boyfriend had neglected your feelings and put this stunt before anything- and anyone.

"Y/N, this is Johnny we're talking about. He's not gonna fucking listen to me," Jeff chuckled to which you rolled your eyes.

Johnny was an adrenaline junkie to the core, and you'd accepted that when you started dating him three years ago. What you hadn't been prepared for was the absolute hell, the man was willing to put himself through in order of getting good footage.

Countless arguments erupted because of that. You'd scold him for putting his life on the line and he'd ignore everything you'd say.

But what was about to happen was some next-level bullshit, and you'd just about had enough.

"Let's start with twenty feet!" Johnny yelled as he stopped climbing and looked down at the crowd gathered below him. Medics and the cast waited on the sideline, and you stood, nervously fidgeting next to Ryan Dunn.

"Whenever you're ready!" Tremaine yelled back and without as much as a warning, Johnny leapt from the crane and activated the smallest parachute, you'd ever seen in your life.

You turned your back just in time to miss the moment when Johnny hit the ground, thankfully. You could hear the thump though, and it made your heart beat so fast, to the point of feeling nauseous.

"Dunn?" You asked and Ryan looked at you, quickly wiping the worried expression from his face when he saw your panicked state.

You turned around slowly. Johnny had stood up. He was laughing with Steve-O and Bam as if nothing had ever happened.

This fucking guy, you thought and pursed your lips. This fucking guy just had a near-death experience and now he was laughing and joking around. You were repulsed but more than anything; you were fucking furious.

Johnny scanned the area around him and eventually, his sight landed on you. You were biting your cheek and shaking your head.

Johnny approached you, clearly aware of what you were feeling, but a glimpse in his eyes told you, that he really didn't give a shit.

"Starting with twenty feet? Are you fucking shitting me?" You hissed and pushed him away when Johnny tried to embrace you.

"I'm not fucking shitting you, and will you please keep your voice down? I don't wanna do this right now," Johnny sneered quietly and you yelped at his question. "No, I'd rather do it now, actually, considering you'll probably be dead within the next twenty minutes," you said and raised your voice to which Johnny shushed you loudly and looked around to ensure that you weren't attracting too much attention.

"Y/N, get in your car and leave," Johnny said, stepping closer to you and towering over your much shorter frame. You looked up at Johnny and stomped on the ground, a loud whine following.

"Now, Y/N."

You watched as his eyes darkened and decided that you actually didn't even want to stick around him and his shitshow any longer.

You shook your head and chuckled in dismay, turning your back to Johnny and leaving without looking back once.

It wasn't the fact, that Johnny did stunts or enjoyed high-speed activities. It was the fact that he couldn't seem to keep it together once he'd started. A simple idea would turn into a life-threatening stunt, and that was what you hated.

You drove home with such anger radiating through your veins, that you could hardly handle it.

He was gonna get himself killed one day, and you were going to be left with pain greater than what he'd ever experienced.

-

A couple hours had passed by, and with no Johnny home, or even a phone call, you were starting to get worried.

Lord knows how far they'd gone. Thirty feet, forty feet, maybe even fifty? The injuries a fall like that could cause. Urgh, you didn't even want to think about it.

You didn't have to, because the sound of the door opening and closing snapped you out of your wandering thoughts.

You'd spent the whole afternoon in a pissy mood, bitching over how Johnny had treated you like crap earlier that day. But you'd also spent the afternoon thinking ahead. How would a future with Johnny look? Was he going to be a punch-drunk husband with a brain like scrambled eggs? He'd suffered too many concussions to even count, and the number of broken bones? You didn't even want to think about it. Was that what you wanted?

You loved Johnny, but at that moment, he was the last person you wanted to see, and the sound of his voice from the corridor made you roll your eyes.

"Y/N, can you come to the kitchen?" He yelled and you sighed. You couldn't avoid him forever. After all, you did live together and it was probably better to just get it over with.

Entering the kitchen, you spotted Johnny, a spiteful chuckle leaving your mouth as your eyes landed on the horrific bruises on Johnny's bare upper body.

He'd taken a trip to the hospital after his parachute failed at forty feet in the air.

"How many ribs did you break this time?" You asked and Johnny sighed, "three."

Honestly, you'd thought it would be worse but then again; the man was fucking invincible, it seemed.

His shirt was off and his muscular upper body was on full display, although you tried your absolute best to not get distracted.

"I really didn't fucking appreciate the way you acted at my job today, Y/N," Johnny said and chugged a glass of water.

You huffed and laughed sarcastically. "Well, Johnny, I really didn't fucking appreciate how selfish you were today," you said and curled your fists into tight balls.

"Selfish? I'm not fucking selfish," Johnny said, completely oblivious to the insane way he'd acted earlier that day.

"Johnny, you could've died! And you know what, I've fucking had it up to here," you said and reached up your arm to signal how much you'd suffered through his ideas.

"It's my job, Y/N! Fuck!" Johnny yelled and threw his hands in the air.

"Baby, you live for this shit. You can't get enough of it, can you? I'd like to watch you go find another dude, that can tame you like I can," Johnny smirked and you huffed. Johnny tried to hide it but yelling really hurt with broken ribs, and he winced quietly.

"You can't even fucking talk to me without getting hurt! Gosh, sometimes I think it would be better if I just left," you chuckled under your breath but flinched when Johnny let out just about one of the loudest roars you'd ever heard from him. "What!"

"Is that really what you want to do? Leave?" He asked. He didn't seem hurt. If anything, he just seemed angry that you'd even say that.

"No, of course, it's not what I want! But it's what this is driving me towards," you admitted.

"You're real bold to be talking to me like that."

Johnny's voice was dark and quiet, but in no way was it soft. It was harsh and cold.

He took some steps closer to you, and you couldn't do anything but back off until you eventually hit the wall behind you.

Johnny was so close to you, that you could hear his heart beating. He moved his hand to your throat and you gasped at the sensation.

The hand around your throat didn't push or squeeze. You both just stood there and looked into each other's eyes. The tension was so thick, you could almost cut it with a knife.

"You're scared, aren't you?" He asked you and flashed you a wicked smile. "Do I scare you, babe?"

You scoffed and shook your head, clearly lying. You were intimidated by him. He was taller and much stronger than you. Johnny saw right through you and he tightened the grip around your throat, but only ever so slightly.

"You said you wanted a normal boyfriend, didn't you?" Johnny asked and you swallowed thickly and nodded.

"Do you still mean that?" Johnny asked you, and you hummed a sly yes.

He moved his hand from your throat and grabbed your face rather harshly. "Look around, love. Haven't I given you everything you've ever dreamed of? Haven't I given you everything any other guy never gave you?" Johnny asked and you nodded slowly.

"So, princess; what's the fucking problem?"

Urgh, the man was dangerously attractive. By now, you'd completely forgotten about the whole argument and its cause. Now, all you seemed to be doing was adding fuel to the fire, because you could tell exactly where this was heading and it made your stomach tingle.

"You make me so fucking mad sometimes," you hissed but yelped loudly when Johnny jerked his knee up between your legs so that your toes were barely touching the ground. Certainly, he could feel the dampness of your arousal on his clothes thigh and the thought of it made you blush slightly.

Johnny grabbed your arms and pinned them on either side of your head against the wall.

"Keep that pretty little mouth of yours shut until I tell you otherwise, okay, doll?" Johnny cut you off and you followed his order, immediately shutting up.

You didn’t mind as you leaned forward, driving your lips together with Johnny's, in a dazed and desperate attempt at dominance. An attempt that was quickly shut down by Johnny, as he tightened his grip on your wrists, moving his lips with yours in a fast, smouldering kiss. 

In a sudden act of rebellion, you bit down on Johnny's bottom lip and watched with fascination as he jerked back and lifted a hand to his mouth, checking for blood. 

"The fuck?" His eyes flashed. You narrowed yours in response.

"You're fucking in for it," Johnny growled before leaning in hard and fast again.

Your toes curled and Johnny moved his knee back and forth against your wet cunt. You arched your back, pressing your chest against Johnny's.

Johnny moved his mouth from your lips to your neck, sucking and biting.

Your panties were thoroughly soaked at this point, and you could feel yourself getting more eager by the second

Johnny moved his hands from your wrists, and immediately, you wrapped your arms around his body, pulling him as close as possible.

You ground against his thigh, feeling that familiar clench between your legs, and you whimpered. “K-Keep going.”

Johnny grabbed your hips - continuing to suck marks onto your neck and chest - and he moved you faster against his thigh, his cock throbbing in his pants. You thrust your fingers into his hair, pulling hard as the fluttering between your thighs turned into hard quakes.

Johnny suddenly bounced his leg a few times and it sent you over the edge, completely.

You threw your head against Johnny's shoulder and hid your face in the crook of his neck, letting out loud moans and whimpers of pleasure. Johnny kept his tight grip on your hips, helping you ride out your orgasm.

You only had a few moments to relax before Johnny lifted you up and began walking towards the living room, placing you on the couch, and hovering over you.

Only now did you realise how bad the bruises on his chest and side really were and you pouted softly, running your fingers over them, which caused Johnny to hiss quietly. You quickly retracted your fingers from his bruises and watched with excitement as Johnny dropped his trousers.

He climbed on the couch and rested over you, looking at you with lusty eyes, growling under his breath.

"Let's see how quiet you can be now," Johnny smirked and slid his hands up your thighs and pulled down your jeans, your lacy underwear following shortly.

You were already soaking wet and Johnny was hard. His tip was an angry red colour, desperate to be embraced.

He smirked as his cock painfully slowly disappeared into your tight cunt, cursing under his breath. His cock was spasming inside of you, your cunt clenching and sucking him in for all it's worth.

A particularly hard thrust made you a moaning mess, grasping and clasping at Johnny's back, probably leaving all kinds of marks.

"Look at you," Johnny smirked in a humiliating manner. "You got yourself into this mess," he said and you bit your lip harshly. "You just couldn't keep your mouth shut, could you?" Johnny asked and you nodded, agreeing with him as a moan escaped from your lips.

Your second orgasm was around the corner, but you were overstimulated- and overwhelmed.

You tapped Johnny's shoulder three times, which was a sign for him to slow down. "Already tapping out, are you?" He asked as you squirmed underneath him, unable to control your body.

"I-I'm go-"

"Already?" Johnny chuckled. Okay, now he was really taking the piss.

You screamed loudly and let your eyes roll to the back of your head as your whole body flexed beneath Johnny as he delivered a final thrust before pulling out quickly and stroking himself, emptying his loud on your thighs.

His moans quieted down as he snapped back from his climax and looked at you. He grabbed your hips and lifted you up, taking the space where you were laying, so that you could lay on top of him.

You were both out of breath and a few silent moments went by before you got tired of the painful silence.

"I'm sorry for what I said. I don't want a normal boyfriend, I want you," you sighed against Johnny's chest and placed a kiss on it.

"I know. I'm sorry too, and you're right; I'm one selfish bastard," Johnny admitted and you looked up at him. "I'm not gonna stop the stunts, but for now, there'll be no forty feet cranes," he said and you smiled.

"I'm glad to hear it."

#johnny knoxville #johnny knoxville imagine #jackass x reader #jackass #jackass imagine #smutty #johnny knoxville smut #smut #dirty imagine #dirty talk #warnings #jackass fanfic #jackass smut #chris pontius #dave england #ehren danger #preston lacy #ryan dunn #wee man

[pearldog30]

can we have a part 4 of ghost has a sister, like the sister gets a heart transplant and has to be in the hospital for awhile or what ever you want just making a recommendation

Simon reacting to his sister's funeral.

I guess you could consider this part 4?. of ghost has a little sister?

Part 1, part 2, part 3.

Ty for the recommendation. I would love to bring her back, but I genuinely don't feel comfortable bringing her back. for reasons of how she died. (I want to apologize. I know a lot of people want her back. but there's also the fact of the caretaker died as well. And Simon wouldn't be allowed to be around her anyway, cuz she did get shot under his watch. and the people were specifically after her, so there's no way Simon would be allowed to have her/be near her, never again. I'm probably overthinking of what your request meant, and if I am, I am sorry.) Again I am genuinely sorry, for not making the series last longer, but I never intended the series lasting long. So here's like an HC, and a story mixed. that I was planning to do for him. I hope you enjoy it. This is his reaction to his sister's funeral. So I guess this is considered part 4, if you will.

Simon Riley X deceased little sister

other works 👉 Master list

Warnings| funeral, talk of death, angst.

After his sister's death. he put off the funeral for as long as possible, until he couldn't anymore. He knew his sister deserved a proper funeral. but he couldn't bring himself to see her afterwards, but he knew he had to for her, and for everybody attending the funeral. And so the day he was dreading the most finally came. But before he even entered where the funeral was taking place. he down a hold bottle of whiskey, and it didn't do anything to him like he was hoping. It didn't numb anything, it didn't even give him that buzz or the edge he was trying to take off, that's how broken he was.

Before the funeral started, and everybody got there. surprisingly! Simon wanted to have a moment with his sister. He was thankful that the funeral director gave him a moment, of peace and quiet.

When he walked into where her cold, lifeless, body laid. the scene before him broke him, he was thankful no one was around. because he couldn't control the tears that were leaving his dark, almost dead, eyes. He thought he'd be okay, he thought he killed that part of himself off, and the whiskey would help him feel nothing. but no, it didn't. All the darkness he was running, and hiding from, finally caught up to him in that moment. That's when he realized he lost that battle.

When he walked up to her casket, he couldn't help but fall to his knees, holding on to part of her casket. head hanging low, looking down to the ground. On the outside he looked fine, but on the inside he was begging, screaming, yelling, at whatever universe, or God, there was asking why they couldn't have just took him. why did they have to choose a kind, young, adventurous, soul. that didn't deserve any of it. Punching her casket strong, and hard, but yet gentle enough, to where it wouldn't break the dark beautiful wooden casket.

Looking back up to her peaceful, restful, face. "I- if you're still he-re I..m s-o soo fucking sorry ple..ase for..give m-me" he says through a hiccup, hoping that if there is a afterlife. she would forgive him, and that one day they could be together again. "You didn't deserve any of this sweetheart" he says still looking at her. Jumping, he felt a hand touche his shoulder. quickly regaining himself, looking up to be met with eyes of the captain. "Are you doing" okay price says, with patience, and worry, in his voice. "Yeah I'm fine" Simon says knowing that's bullshit. but he doesn't want to deal with it today.

"no, no you're not Simon. I'm going to tell you right now. you need to talk to someone about it" prices says pleading with him. price knows Simon better than anyone, so he hopes he'll finally talk about it, and let it out, what's bothering him. "No really, I'm doing okay" Simon says looking away, back to his sister. "Enough of the bullshit Simon. You need to talk about this now, or else you never will. it is eating at you alive. the rage, the anger, you have built up. Distancing yourself from everybody. it's not healthy, and I'm not going to stand by and watch you, dig your own grave" prices says, finally getting his attention, getting it through his skull. that what he's doing is not healthy, and it's affecting everybody in the 141 in a way. "You know John. When I lost her, I lost myself." Simon says getting up on his feet. finally coming to terms, that he's not okay.

"I know son, trust me I know" price says walking closer to Simon. "But all that pain, and hurt, you have built up. you're going to have to face it sooner, or later. you can't run from it forever" he says, as he finally stops, standing face to face with Simon. "You know I often question myself why wasn't it me, it should have been me." Simon says, as he feels his eyes begin to break again with tears. Price pulling Simon into a hug, Simon hugging back. Price knew that's what Simon needed in that moment. even though he never would admit it. "After everything that happened, I don't want to fuckin do this anymore." Simon cries out, not realizing those were the words that he needed someone to hear. to know that he is struggling, nearly hanging on by a thread. "Stop blaming yourself for what happened, let that shit go. just let it go" price says soothing him. Embracing in the hug, Simon didn't know he needed. Very much a dad and son moment Idc, IDC what any of y'all say.

Pulling back from the hug. Looking back into Simon's eyes "but please. if not for me, do it for her. quit blaming yourself, quit numbing everything. keep on fighting, for her that's what she would want. And you know it." prices says, holding on to his shoulder. Maintaining eye contact. Looking up to the clock, Simon realizes the funeral is about to start. Exchanging nods, Simon wipes away the tears. readjusting his outfit, to look presentable for the funeral. But before they open the doors, price looks back to Simon. "But please talk about it, and let all that dark shit out. get the help you deserve." price finishes, looking away from Simon.

And the funeral surprisingly goes very well, yes there was a lot of tears but that's to be expected. He wasn't expecting so many people to show up the whole 141, including Rudy, Alejandro, and all of her friends she went to school with. Everybody talking, sharing memories of her, a lot of her friends telling him, how much she talked about her big brother, (low-key some of the friends were mesmerized by Simon, and some of the other guys) and how much she adored him. this made him realize that he really was everything to her. but he couldn't sit, and soak in it, and think about it. not now, not in this moment.

As the day came to an end. a lot of tears, a lot of memories being brought up, he didn't want to think about. he was extremely exhausted, and drained. instead of drinking himself to sleep as what he had planned earlier. he actually sat and thought about what price said, looking at his bracelet. replaying his words over and over. Coming to terms with the fact he might actually need help, and maybe getting it might not be so bad. He knows deep down that's what his sister would want, and even if she's gone. he'd still do anything for her.

HC part

To say Simon is destroyed, would be understatement. He did not eat, sleep, drink, for weeks after his sister's death. he had to be under supervision all the time by Price, or soap. they had to force feed him sometimes to keep him alive.

After his sister's death. the only time he'd leave his room would be to do work, and that's it. He didn't talk to anyone, he cut off all communication with everybody.

Even though he made a promise to never be drink, and be like his dad. A lot of nights he couldn't help but try keyword try we all know this man has a high alcohol tolerance. to get blackout drunk, and sleep. a lot of times it didn't work, but when it did. he was thankful he could forget everything that night, and just be passed out from the alcohol.

The only time he'd let people say his sister's name, was at the funeral. before that anytime anyone mentioned her slightly, he would go in this psychotic rage. it scared even price himself a little bit.

He carries the bracelet she bought him everywhere with him, even on the battlefield. He doesn't let it go out of his sight/he knows where it is at all times. And no one's allowed to touch it, other than him. (Johnny tried touching it to look at it. and he got a black eye afterwards)

He still absolutely hates the medics that were there that night when she died. price had to keep him and the medic separated for a while, because he would have killed them/badly injure them. (He can't even stand to be around them, still.)

(Remember the house he bought for them to live in yeahh..) he physically couldn't take one step in that house, after everything happened. price had to sell the house for him, because he refused to go anywhere near it. Looking at it, or even mentioning the house, still breaks him to this day. It often makes him feel like he failed. Not only as a soldier, but as a big brother.

And that's going to be the official end of this series I guess, I had so much fun writing it. I hope y'all enjoy my version of sad Simon (I may have or may have not cried writing this) anyways I hope y'all are having a good day/night wherever you are. reblogs, and comments are always appreciated 🖤

#call of duty mw2 #cod #modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #ghost simon riley #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 ghost #ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #cod ghost #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #mw2 ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #mw2 x reader #cod mw 2022 #mw2 headcanons #head cannon #simon riley headcanons #cod headcanons #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x reader #cod modern warfare #modern warfare #request #anonymous #anon ask #ask