#16. Stop-loss orders

[techmarkethunter]

what is gift nifty?

Title: Unwrapping the Gift of Nifty: A Guide to Navigating the Stock Market Introduction: In the dynamic world of finance, the stock market stands out as a fascinating arena where investors can explore various opportunities. One such avenue that has gained immense popularity is trading in Nifty, a flagship index of the National Stock Exchange of India (NSE). In this blog post, we’ll dive into…

[backwzzds]

ೃ⁀➷ spoil you, plug!eren

eren hated when you spent your own money, but you don’t listen.

thinking about the way plug!eren would take you on his drops with him. you were so quiet and in your own world, he never minded the fact that you had your freshly white painted toes resting against the dash of his mercedes AMG coupe. the entire car was blacked out with expensive ceramic tints, protecting you both from your usual…late night activities.

your glasses rested on the cute bridge of your nose as your left leg was sat in eren’s lap while your right rested against the dashboard. eren was lucky that he fucked with most of his customers heavy…you two had been waiting for the dude to meet y’all for nearly thirty minutes now, and had it been someone else, eren would have sped away long time ago.

eren comfortingly rubbed your baby soft feet in the grasp of his tattooed hand, one with beautiful realism art of your own eye. with a turn of his head, he could see you practically nose deep in the bright screen of your phone illuminating through the car. “you growing bored mama?” his voice is concerned. “ian think we was gonna be waiting this long on dude…my bad baby.”

you hadn’t said much since you’d gotten in the car, just wanting to hurry and add all of your things to your shopping cart on the skims website. “nah, ‘m just…trying…to do somethin’ real quick,” you bite your lip as you tap away on your phone. you were trying to add as many things to your cart before it was gone. “before this shit sell out.”

eren being the nosy boy he is leans against your shoulder to see what you were doing. but the moment he’d seen you type in numbers that belonged to what he knew as your own debit card, he kissed his teeth in annoyance. “man how many times i gotta tell you to stop using your card to go shopping bae?” you roll your eyes at his words. “i’m serious, you got all three of my cards on ya phone for a reason. fuck is you typing in your info for?”

don’t get him wrong, eren loved the fact that you were independent and knew how to handle money almost perfectly now that you were in your twenties. but being together with you for so long, he continued to step up with his provider capabilities by always taking care of you. whether it was paying your bills, rent—everything in between.

but of course it was a struggle when ms. i can do it all by myself meets mr. i know you can but let me do it for you

“because i’m spending like 600 dollars,” you point out to his previous question with an obvious scoff. “i’m not asking you for that.” eren mirrors your actions and rolls his eyes again.

eren looks at you as if you’re insane and suffered memory loss for the past four years you’ve been together. “babe…i make that shit in one night. actually—fuck a night—i make that shit in two hours!”

it wasn’t like he was lying either, with the way that eren was one of the only trusted plugs in town, it was very easy that he’d bring at least a band a night on a consistent basis. selling for almost six years was finally paying off.

you two hardly ever fought, but if you did, it was always about money. eren knew how long you’ve had to do things on your own physically and financially. you couldn’t go to your mom for help, you didn’t have a dad to beg, so it was all on you since you’d been 16. but now that he had eren, he’d just wish you’d let him take the burden of money of your shoulders and take care of you the way you take care of him.

after a few minutes, your boyfriend holds his hand out. you give him crazy eyes, but eventually follow orders by putting your phone in his hand. “don’t know how many times i gotta tell yo stubborn ass, forreal,” he grunted. “‘s never a problem spoiling my baby. you don’t ever ask me for nothing. let me feel useful and get you stuff, mama.”

with a sigh, you nod your head, like you always did. there was no way eren was gonna take no for an answer when it came to spoiling his wife.

in response, eren uses his free hand to delete your information and instead place the correct numbers—the information to his amex black card. all the money he has, he sits and does nothing with it, so why not buy you all the things you’ve never had before?

when you hear the chime of your phone confirming your order, eren hands you the phone back and goes to look out his dark window.

with your acrylics, you grab eren by the neck and slowly turn him back to face you. “thanks papa,” you gave him genuine eyes.

eren leans forward and pecks your lips. with a serious face, he pecks you one more time before wrapping his tatted fingers around your neck erotically. with a look in your eyes he tells you, “always tell me what you want, no matter how much, mama. you know daddy gonna get that shit for you one way or another, regardless.”

[celaenaeiln]

Robin Dick Grayson Characterization

I'm not sure how or where this started but there's been a rampant misunderstanding of Dick Grayson as Robin.

For some reason there have been posts upon posts that dick was some kind of angry robin and I don't know where this is coming from because in every single comic Dick is said to be the happy one. It seems to be a Covid craze because such defamation was not even in existance before 2020. Every one of the comics - Justice League, Batman, Detective Comics, Nightwing Comics, Jason's comics, Tim's comics, all of them! Talk about Dick being the happiest of the robins.

Some people say that he wanted to avenge his parents death by killing Tony Zucco. However Dick could never do that. John and Mary raised their son better than that.

Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight Issue #100

Where do you see a raging blood-soaked boy fanon makes him out to be?

The biggest supporter of happy Dick comes from Alfred so if you're going around claiming Dick was angry, you're literally spitting on his grave because Alfred ADORED Dick. He thought of Dick as the sole reason for Bruce's happiness which made him love Dick even more.

Alfred is Dick's biggest advocator. When Bruce is hesitant in his initial days of Robin - Alfred says

Detective Comics (2016) Issue #1000

"They will be easier than they ever were for you."

Detective Comics (2016) Issue #1000

"He will see excitement and adventure...and he will help you see it, too."

Detective Comics (2016) Issue #1000

"He's gotten a taste for it, Master Bruce. He has the natural skill and talent. Do you really think you could stop him at this point?"

"He could make you better. He could BE better."

"A hero forged in the LIGHT."

And Dick feels this too.

Detective Comics (2016) Issue #1000

"Then WE help them find the better path. Together."

Detective Comics (2016) Issue #1000

"Let's show them how to do it right."

Calling Dick an angry robin - that's an insult to Dick, Bruce, and Alfred. It's an insult to who they are as characters and it's an insult to the very creation of robin.

Dick wasn't made for vengeance. He was made for the light.

Dick is the embodiment of hope and a brighter future. He's what people look forward to on their darkest days, their shining light. He's the hero of all heroes that came after him. There is no one like him.

There are tons of comics on Dick's journey as Robin but here's a clear one as to his thoughts before he became Robin.

Robin & Batman Issue #3

Dick wasn't angry. He's was sad, lonely, and scared.

But.

This good boy doesn't deserve what you call him. This small loving child. Don't you dare push your evil agenda onto him.

"I don't need to be the next batman. I can be something else. Something better."

"And you know the best part?"

"Now I know I don't need to be alone. And I don't have to be the dark."

"I can be the light."

"I can be Robin."

Batman (1940) Issue #687

Dick was an excitable, brilliant, and over-excelling child. He was a ball of sunshine and happiness who loved laughing, playing games, and being crazy. He was a hypercompetent, crazy child who lived for the love of living and adventure.

It's the loss of the original dynamic duo that Alfred grieves over.

Batman (1940) Issue #687

Just look at this adorable baby!!!

Batman/Superman (2019) Issue #16

"Hey, Batman! You took down one of 'em and I took down three! I told ya I've been practicing!"

"Good work, Robin."

What the heck you cute adorable baby.

"Holy--! Is this a warden's office of a museum of horrors? Look at that old rocket ship!"

"Ew. There's a skeleton inside!"

LOOK AT THAT BABY FACE!! THE PURE ENTHUSIAM IN THE WAY HE TALKS - HE'S JUST A HAPPY BABY BOY!!

Batman/Superman (2019) Issue #17

IT'S A CRIME TO CALL HIM ANGRY.

Love this sweet, adorable child.

Another issue with the “Dick Grayson was an angry Robin” take. It’s not just a different perspective, it’s just blatantly wrong.

How wrong?

In order to fight the Batman who laughs, Bruce creates a machine that will emulate the joy of the happiest person he has ever known-who?

Robin Dick Grayson.

"Happiness is seeing the world though the eyes of children."

The Batman Who Laughs Issue #4

"Dick was the first robin. He had the happiest eyes. Circus eyes. Weightless - leaping, never falling."

Bruce drives himself insane from the joy he feels by looking at the world through Robin Dick's eyes.

Every comic. In every. single. comic. All of them talk about how Dick was a happy child and a happy robin. Dick's talk about it, Jason's talk about it, Tim's talk about it, the Justice League's talk about it, the Batman's especially - all the batman comics - talk about.

I would've actually added about 50 more panels but I ran out of image space because posts only have a 30 image limit.

I'm not kidding when I say it's IMPOSSIBLE. ABSOLUTELY, INCONCEIVABLY IMPOSSIBLE to say that Dick was angry Robin. Dick, Jason, Bruce, Tim, Damian, Alfred, Barbara, the JL, the titans, the Gotham villains - they all talk about Dick was a symbol of hope, joy, and light to Bruce and Gotham.

Not only that but if you read the comics, you would know that Dick was a happy robin because all the following robins had a cascade effect on their personality based solely on the fact that Dick was a happy robin. Jason's personality was the result of Dick being charcterized as happy, and Tim's personality was based off Dick's being happy.

But you know what the biggest piece of evidence against this blasphemy that Dick was angry robin is?

Secret Origins (2014) Issue #8

"...Becoming a much needed FOIL to the batman, whose own grim obsession with revenge could easily have caused him to cross the line..."

Explain something to me. It canonically states the Dick was a foil to Bruce Wayne who used to be revenge obsessed and grim. A foil in literature means a character who contrasts with another character to highlight the differences between them.

So if Bruce was dark, gloomy, angry, and revenge filled and Dick was the foil, then how on earth is it possible Dick to also be dark, gloomy, angry, and revenge filled?

On top of this impossibility of Dick being angry and full of hatred, can we take a step back for a minute and think about Dick's position in all this? Dick is the very first child hero, the one countless heroes after him look up to because he, Robin, was the embodiment of light and goodness. He single-handedly dragged Bruce out of his pit of self-destruction merely by existing because of his charming and playful demeanor. How, then, is it possible for every single character in the entirety of DCU along with every single writer who has ever written a comic - to be wrong?

Let's be clear. Bruce's personality, is written to be the opposite of Dick's personality. And Dick's personality is the opposite of Bruce's. Furthermore, Jason and Tim's personality were written to be a response to Dick's. There's also Alfred waving a massive banner about how Dick is a literal godsend front and center. So. If you still believe, that Dick was not a happy robin, then you have effectively mischaracterized every single person in the entire batfamily aside from Kate.

Congratulations. It's truly an accomplishment to be so wrong.

So no, Dick was not in fact, ever, the angry robin.

Dick was a happy robin and that is the FOUNDATION of understanding the batfamily.

[whumpuary]

Welcome to Whumpuary 2024!

Whumpuary is a whump themed mixed-media creation event/challenge taking place in January.

This year the prompts came together through a community submission form and then a poll, where I picked the 53 most voted prompts! There are 15 numbers with 3 prompts each, plus 8 alt prompts. The dates are just meant to be a general guideline for those who want/need some structure in a challenge (e.g post every other day), but you don't actually have to create/post on those dates. You can combine prompts any way you want or just pick one of each number, do every single one or even all of them combined into one big creation (or just use one single prompt. That's already an achievement!) If you don't like any prompts of a number you can also replace or combine them with an alt prompt. The main or alt prompts don't have to be done in order.

Go here for more information, rules and the tagging system Go here for FAQs

The inbox is open for any questions!

Text version of all the prompts is under the cut

Whumpuary 2024 Main Prompts 1. (Jan 01-02) Captivity / Snow / Secret Revealed 2. (Jan 03-04) "Get away from me" / Collapse / Choking 3. (Jan 05-06) Used as bait / Stumbling / "This is gonna hurt" 4. (Jan 07-08) "Help me" / Lightheaded / Kneeling 5. (Jan 09-10) Can't move / "Stay. Please" / Kidnapped 6. (Jan 11-12) Exhaustion / Blindfolded / Old Injuries 7. (Jan 13-14) "I didn't know where else to go" / Bruises / Drugged 8. (Jan 15-16) Muffled Screams / Hostage / "You look awful" 9. (Jan 17-18) "Make it stop" / Restraints / Hair Grabbing 10. (Jan 19-20) Desperation / Gunpoint / Can't stay awake 11. (Jan 21-22) Blood / "Just get is over with" / Memories 12. (Jan 23-24) "You're awake" / Rescue / Unfair Fight 13. (Jan 25-26) Left to die / Barely Conscious / "I'm Fine" 14. (Jan 27-28) Flinching / Breakdown / Sleep Deprivation 15. (Jan 29-31) You're safe / Aftermath / Touch starved

Alt Prompts 1. Stabbed 2. "Let me see" 3. Recapture 4. Forced to watch 5. Headache 6. Gagged 7. "Do you trust me?" 8. Blood Loss

[cree-future-rabbi]

Prohammassholes:

1. Jews are indigenous to the area (just deal with it, maybe crack open a history book, or something educational, not memes)

2. I don't care about your white people issues

3. I am an indigenous Canadian. My family went through so much pain because of your stupid colonizer ancestors.

3. Both sides of my family are victims of horrendous things, genocide, torture, putting people on a rock and expecting them to be okay, while white people and non-aboriginal people can have beautiful land.

4. Residential Schools were a horrible truth.

5. The average age of you is about 20. Think about that. You complained you didn't get a proper education. Well, you sure proved it.

6. Palistine peoples are going through horrendous things FROM THEIR OWN GOVERNMENT daily. This includes torture of children. Kids who defied one order strapped to a wooden post and whipped with electrical cables. They need to be liberated from their oppressive government. A government that brainwashed the entire country to hate Jews. A country teaching their children marytism is the only way to get into heaven. There is fucking proof of this.

7. You don't care about the palestinian-people, you're just an antisemitic hive-mind because none of you can critically think or debate

8. I remember when debates on tumblr took days to result in personal insults

9. You are screaming over the people who are ACTUALLY needing to be heard.

10. This war, this terroist organization is a senseless loss of life.

11. The UN and hamas have admitted "quietly" to lying and exaggerating the civilan count

12. This war has the lowest civilian casualties of any war in modern history. Don't believe me, look it up. USvs. Afghanistan is DISGUSTING

13. Jihad soldiers attack in plain clothes, they are often counted as "inoccent civilians" when they just killed a bunch of innocent civilians

14. Hamas stated many times he will not stop until the Country of Israel is destroyed and every Jew is dead.

15. Antisemitism and antizionism its the same. I love how you won't listen to us but you can make up words and use it as a scapegoat for you to be as antisemitic as you want.

16. Hamas is starving his own people. He was given billions for infrastructure and did not build any bomb shelters? If Israel is killing so many people, why wouldn't you build power plants, food, water, and bomb shelters? Why does Israel provide you with your resources when you constantly attack them? Because they'd rather help the citizens more than hamas wants to.

Are you fucking blind, deaf, and dumb? THINK, GO READ SOME PEER REVIEWED INFO YOU SAD PEOPLE

Fuck you, eh. 🖐🎤

Now tell me you aren't filled with antisemitism and hate.

[larissareadings]

It’s okay, love.

➤ pairing: Draco Malfoy x gryff!fem!reader (house barely mentioned).

Request: None

tw: eating disorder; mentions of bullying and anxiety attack.

Note: I’ve wrote this based on personal experiences and what I needed at the time. DO NOT read this if it’s not comfortable for you. If you or someone you know is struggling with an eating disorder, please reach out for help.

English is not my native language so I’m sorry if there is any mistakes. This is my first fic ever so it might not be so good. I hope you enjoy it though.

Summary: Y/N is a keeper at the Gryffindor (barely mentioned) team, who has been developing an eating disorder and Draco Malfoy seems to be only one who noticed it.

Y/N always had problems with her body image. At her early teens at Hogwarts she used to be mocked, mostly by Pansy Parkinson and her friends, because she was too thin. When Y/N turned 14, she started gaining weight since she was eating too much due to her increased anxiety, and then she was again being mocked, except now because she was getting fat, and everyone talked about it, even when they didn’t want to be mean, saying things like “you should get on a diet”. By 16, Y/N started focusing on her weight loss journey, she was finally gonna be health, delicate and beautiful as the other girls her age.

Some months later

It was right after the quidditch match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. They won, of course, since you’ve let too many quaffles go through the goal hoops. You’re a keeper at the Gryffindor team, and you’re good at it. When you’re not dizzy anyway.

“It happened again, didn’t it?”

you heard the familiar voice behind you. It sounded soft, which was not a usual thing. You closed your locker and turned around to face Malfoy. The others had already left the locker room, so now it was just you and him.

"It happened what again, Malfoy?" you asked him, trying to sound indifferent, when you were all, but that. He had some power over you, it was irritating actually, how nervous you would get when he was around.

Malfoy has been acting weird these past few months, he didn't tease you anymore. When his friends said anything about you, he would either just leave or just stare at you, but never laugh with them, never contribute to their bullying. He was the only one in the group who said nothing about your recent weight loss. The others did. Pansy would never loose the chance to say you finally learnt to shut your mouth.

You hated that he hadn't said anything, you worried you hadn't lost enough weight for him to notice, and you wanted him to see that you could be pretty too.

He looked in you up and down, checking you, before focusing on your eyes again and said "Dizziness."

You didn't understand why he was saying this, why he would notice you feeling dizzy. "Yeah.. just a little. I'm bit distract that's all". A few seconds went by where he said nothing, just stood there looking at you. Was that concern in his eyes? You couldn't tell. "Look, uhmm, I don't know where this is coming from, but I have to go. If you have any jokes to make about me being a bad keeper, or an ugly, fat bad keeper or whatever" you noticed him flinch at that, as if it had hurt him. "say it now or leave it for tomorrow 'cause I'm really tired and just wanna go to my bed"

He walked towards you, enough for him to talk low and look closely into your eyes, making you even more nervous, and said "You have to stop this, Y/N, it's making you sick."

"I don't know what you talking about"

Now he let out a breath in disbelief. "Oh, you don't know what I'm talking about? Let my clarify to you, then, It's a very simple concept, really, I thought you would know it by now." He was actually getting angry. "In order to live, people have to eat. It's the only way to get nutrients into your body. Really, Y/N, that's basics"

"I know about that. It's a good thing I eat, then, right?'' You said also angry now with his sudden aggressiveness.

"Do you though? 'Cause what I'm seeing-" he said gesturing to your body "is a girl fading away, a girl who plays with food at lunch instead of actually eating it, a girl who who used to be a great keeper, but now can't barely stand in a broom because is too weak to do so." He could feel his heart in his throat. He was so nervous, so scared you would fall off that broom. More than he could ever admit. He was keeping his worry to himself for months, hoping you would stop, hoping someone would intervene, but no one did. People just kept either praising your weight loss or humiliating you. But he couldn't stop himself anymore, if you had got hurt today, he would never forgive himself.

You felt your heart skip a beat at that. He was worried. Really worried. You didn't know how to react. You felt seen, someone saw what you were going through. But you also felt good, reassured. So you WERE thinner, and he noticed. “You know what? I don’t get it. Weren’t you and your friends the ones who said I was too heavy to play quidditch? that my weight would slow me down? that I would fall? that the broomstick couldn’t take it?” you now had tears in your cheeks. Your vision was blured by the tears and, God, you were so tired.

Malfoly’s heart might’ve actually broke in that moment. He was so angry at everyone who didn’t notice you hurting yourself, when he was actually the who drove you into it.

‘‘I am so tired.” you kept talking now, tears rolling down your face. “Why is it never enough? I’m tired. I’m thin, I’m ugly. I’m fat, I’m ugly too, and disggusting. I need a diet. I do a diet. and now fading away? OH well, just let me be happy for once.and I am happy now, ok? I’m finally beautiful.” You were talking so fast and you were feeling so weak. Malfoy saw that, so he immediately hold you in a hug, preventing you from falling. Your head were now in his chest, and you were trying to stop crying, trying to make your heart go back to it’s normal rhythm.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, love.” He said stroking your hair. “I’m sorry” he said almost inaudible.

After a few minutes you heart and breathing were finally stable again. You detached yourself from his harms, although his hands were still in both sides of your arms. You looked up to him with watery eyes. You hated crying in front of people. "I'm sorry" you said.

"It's okay." He said again, looking back at you. Taking his hesitant hand, like he was afraid to actually break you, to clean your cheeks from the tears. "I promise".

"Why are you doing this?" you were really confused. You had never seen Malfoy this gentle and.. scared?

He caressed you cheeks while looking from your eyes to your mouth. He then joined your foreheads and spoke really low, like a whisper. “I need you, Y/N.”

“what?” you said also in a whisper. you couldn't believe what you were hearing.

“I need you, and I need you to get better. This is making me crazy. I’m scared all the time. I’m scared you’re gonna fall off the stairs, or the broom. I’m scared of you getting hurt. Please.. just- just let me help, ok? Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. Anything.”

“Can you.. uhmm. eat? with me, I mean” you asked detaching your heads to look in his eyes.

“Sure” He said immediately. “Is that all?”

“No.” you let out a breath in relief with his answer and smile a little. “But it may be a start. I think”

“Ok.” He returned your smile. “You should probably talk with someone else, though. Someone who could help more. A professor, maybe. I’ll go with you, if you want me to.”

“Yeah.. ok. Can we go to McGonagall, then? Not now, please. When I’m ready.”

“Of course. Anyone you want, love.” He said looking back at you before you hugging him again. Letting your head rest in his chest while he stroke your hair again. This felt like home to both of you. You were so scared, but he was hopeful. He would do anything for you to feel better.

This whole not eating thing made you so tired, but it was also so addictive. You didn’t know if you could ever get better, but maybe this was a start. Having someone to lean on, someone who cared.. it certainly helped.

[infraaa]

KOSA 101

Let’s talk about this. This is something I haven’t seen a lot of in my end, and this new bill may be troubling to not just us as a whole, but content creators. So, this isn’t just exclusive to AO3 anymore. This can go as far as places like Wattpad, Quotev, DeviantArt, and here.

So, to put it bluntly, if you give a fuck, listen.

What is KOSA?

KOSA (Kids Online Safety Act,) is a bill within the United States that was initially created last year with the aim of protecting youth (considerably age 16 and under,) from viewing harmful content online. It has since been updated and reintroduced by Richard Blumenthal (D-CT) and Marsha Blackburn (R-TN.) Now, on surface level, it may seem like this has a good outlook, right? Not in the slightest. This bill, while it may not be passed yet rather introduced, may take an extreme to protect youth and monitor all. Yes, I said monitor.

Not only is NSFW content bound to be flagged, which may totally censor a lot of creators not just on this platform but others, a wider band that is under this new bill is LGBT+ content. According to Senator Blackburn of Tennessee, who is KOSA’s co-author, even education on race discrimination was viewed as “dangerous to kids,” and this soon branches out to race, gender, and sexuality discrimination. This also extends out to anxiety, depression, eating disorders, etc. The bill puts itself in the hands of State Attorney Generals in order for them to use tools of censorship against our rights and safety— not just for the youth, but for adults too, as we may face (giving an example,) hurdles trying to obtain things like legal documents.

How does KOSA work?

KOSA works by acting as a censor and self filter for the internet. By the hands of Attorney State Generals, they ultimately decide what is harmful to kids online. Though, this is a dual edged sword. This would also present the loss of access to information that a large sum of people may not deem dangerous. This again extends outward towards things like depression, substance abuse, etc— complex topics without a clear agreement on causes or solutions. This means that it could also filter, and possibly censor medical information, extending outward to trans medical care as well, which may lead on to silence the transgender community further. This is a very bad thing.

There would still be features like Age Verification, but it also filters legal speech. What I mean by “there will still be features,” to give an example, Tumblr has a tab in settings where you can add your birthday, which in turn verifies how old you are. Tiktok has this feature as well. About filtering legal speech, any kind of media or information that has to do with societal ills that is held on a platform, for example, Tumblr, will enable that platform to be held liable for holding that information. But… it may seem like I’m getting off topic, aren’t I?

So let’s swing back around…

KOSA has the ability to hurt creators on several different platforms. This gives the United States Government unlimited range of control over the internet.

This linktree has at least four different petitions open for you to take action against the bill, and to contact your congressmen and women. There’s also a discord server that’s dedicated to stopping KOSA from passing.

By doing this, you are spreading your voice. You are helping millions of people nationally— creators, artists, writers, everyone.

And finally, don’t just like this post. Reblog it— it helps it spread and gain exposure.

Let’s put an end to KOSA.

[juuuulez]

Negan x Virgin wife reader smut??? Questionable age gap if ur comfortable no pressure though

info: absolutely FILTHY, age gap (reader is 18 when they have sex, negan is like mid 40s), alcohol consumption, negan calls himself daddy, oral (female receiving), loss of virginity, probably more but i can’t even think rn.

summary: Negan’s always taken care of you, only now, you want him in a different way.

omg this took soooo long to write and is also absolutely huge 😭😭 it’s also just pure filth but totally is everything i’ve ever wanted

You were 16 when you arrived at the Sanctuary.

Though, you never really did anything. Negan didn’t even know if you knew how to fire a gun, but he didn’t mind. Your little fingers probably were too soft, they’d shake upon just nearing one, afraid of blemishing your perfect nails.

Your father was a loyal soldier of his, always carried out orders to a T. Therefore, Negan believed that your debt was paid, and didn’t feel the need to make you pull your weight, like most others.

After meetings, when everybody was dismissed, those big wooden doors would open to you standing there, waiting for your father with a sweet smile on your face. He’d place his hand on your back, kiss you on the head, walk you out.

It made Negan think that maybe, just maybe, there was good left in the world. That good was you.

Sometimes a mission would go haywire. Radio connections lost, a truck missing, hijacked. When this happened, you’d always wind up at the door to Negan’s office, timid little knocks garnering his attention. You’d ask, visibly upset, if your father would be okay, if he had any news on when he’d be back.

And Negan would always assure you it was fine, that you’d best get to bed. Morning would come, your father would return, and your world would be complete again. Each time, you’d sniffle, flashing him that sweet little smile before bidding him goodnight.

You were 17 when your father died.

It was a seemingly random attack on an outpost, though Negan knew otherwise. 20-odd men were killed, including your father. When he’d shared the news, you weeped and cried for what felt like hours.

Despite the million tasks to be completed, justice to be avenged, Negan had set that aside to comfort you. Sit down with you, ease your worries, promise that he’d make things right. That whoever did this would pay, he would get your revenge. Even though the tears didn’t stop, and you practically didn’t move from your bed for days afterwards, you’d still managed the effort to give Negan a smile.

You were trying, so, so hard.

But things changed after that.

Well, you changed.

A year went by, and you got harder. Learnt to live on without the guidance of your father, though the struggle was still evident. You were lost, like a little lamb.

Some of the older girls took you under their wing, teaching you the necessities of life in this world. How to make a knife, how to escape rope binding, how to please a man. All the things your father had sheltered you from, made sure you wouldn’t need to worry about.

Though you appreciated their help, it wasn’t the same. Women were too… understanding. They were soft, gentle with you, but it came from a place where they saw a version of themselves in you. No, you wanted something masculine. That protective hand on your back, the feeling of a beard scratching your cheek when he left you sweet little kisses.

You were 18 when you found this again.

Albeit, in a different way.

The war was progressing, however slowly, and tensions were high. Infighting was getting more and more common, Rick was getting on Negan’s last nerve, and his wives were starting to tick him off.

It was another late night, chain-smoking and trying to brainstorm any sort of play against the Alexandria group. Just something to gain some leverage, as he could feel the power slipping from his fingers, whilst they were only getting more and more rebellious.

Just last week, they’d attacked the Sanctuary, where Negan realised that he needed to put an end to this.

There’s that slight knocking at his door, the quiet tap tap tap. He doesn’t need to see to know who it is, nor does he need to answer for you to enter.

You push past the doors, feet clothed in white cotton socks. The type with pink bows on them, on either side. It makes your footsteps silent, padding across the wooden floorboards until you’re standing in front of Negan’s desk.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

It’s become a rather common phrase, though Negan had thought that you were getting better. The attack must have set you off again, put you on edge, anxious. It makes sense, as you weren’t exactly accustomed to the gunfire and shouting.

“You try counting, doll?” Negan asks, watching you over the rim of his glass, letting the smooth whiskey slide down his throat. His eyes wandered downwards, taking in your silk nightdress, falling just to the top of your thighs.

Tantalisingly small, you needed a new one.

This past year, after your 18th birthday, you’d become dangerous. Confident. Each day your shorts seemed to get shorter, the straps on your tanks skinnier. You pushed the limit, that sickly sweet smile transforming into something alluring and tempting whenever you gazed at the younger soldiers.

It was like a ticking time bomb, and without your daddy to guide you, Negan knew you were moments from acting out.

“Mhm. Doesn’t work,” You shrug, eyes downcast upon the wooden desk, like you’re searching the dark grain for some sort of answer to all your problems, “Why count when I can come see you?”

This causes Negan to chuckle, that deep sound that rumbles from his chest, causing you to look back up at him. He sets the glass down, a soft clink as it collides with the table. “Because sometimes I’ll be busy. Ya gotta learn to handle yourself.”

Wrong choice of words.

Negan knew that, because there was this little flicker in your eyes, like a light that had switched on.

Of course you could handle yourself, that’s what you’ve been doing this past year.

You knew what you wanted, and were willing to hunt it down, like prey. All those hushed conversations with the older women, reading all those magazines, you knew what you were doing. Or, you thought you knew what you were doing.

Negan could see this, which is why indulging in these thoughts with you was a dangerous game. He was only a man, after all, and you just looked so good in that little silk dress, the spaghetti straps almost hanging off your soft shoulders. It was like a temptation from the devil himself, the ultimate forbidden fruit.

“C’mere, princess.” He calls out, internally cursing himself for being so fucking stupid, but nonetheless leaning back slightly in his chair.

He was going to hell.

But luckily, sinning was a two player game.

You accepted the invitation, slinking over to him, knuckles just brushing the wooden desk as you pass. Without instruction, you situate yourself between Negan’s slightly parted legs, your ass making contact as you sat on his thigh, rough denim creating friction against your soft skin.

His hands instinctively wrapped around your waist, pulling you in closer, where you allowed your head to fall against his chest. It was comforting, and Negan smelt like smoke and leather, something to unfamiliarly masculine but you loved it. You wanted to smell it forever, feel him forever.

“Why haven’t you asked me to be a wife?”

This causes Negan to furrow his brows, tilting his head to look down at you. In turn, you meet his gaze, looking up at him through your lashes. The position makes him feel powerful, like you’re tiny in his hands, something he could direct with ease. He quickly banished the thought away, not wanting to corrupt your innocence.

“Because you’re too young, doll.”

“But I know things,” You assert as soon as Negan has given his excuse, desperate to make him understand, “From.. from asking people, from reading magazines. I know what to do.”

Negan’s eyes flicker across your face, taking in the cute little pout on his lips. Reading? It suddenly dawns on him that you’re more inexperienced than you let on. All those flirty remarks, seductive stares directed at his soldiers, hadn’t proved fruitful.

You were a virgin.

Now, that shouldn’t have turned him on as much as it did, but God. Negan’s grip on your waist tightened slightly, keeping you pressed firmly against him, to which you lifted your head from his chest. One hand raised higher, gently brushing the hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. The other shifted downwards, snaking his long fingers just under your soft asscheek, peaking from that silky nightgown that bunched above your thighs.

As much as Negan had resented the idea of tarnished your innocence… now it just seemed all the more alluring. Being your first, being the only one you’ll ever taste. Making you his.

“You ever drank whiskey, baby?” He finds himself asking, voice just as smooth and fiery as the alcohol in question.

Your head tilts, eyes owlish and curious as you shake your head no. Negan leans forward in the chair, keeping you close to his chest, and scoops up the previously abandoned glass.

Auburn liquid sloshes slightly with the movement, and Negan takes a moment to adjust you in his lap, manoeuvring your body with ease. He presses his thumb against your plush bottom lip, the slight pressure causing you to open your mouth around him, where he is able to replace the digit with the rim of the glass.

His hand shifts to your jaw, holding you with a firm grip and tilting your head backwards, tipping some of the whiskey into your awaiting mouth. It passes your tongue, gliding down your throat until he pulls the glass back, allowing you just a taste.

Your nose scrunches at the harsh burn, not accustomed to it, before letting your tongue dart out to lick your lips.

“It’s warm.” You mumble, voice still quiet and delicate despite the actions you were partaking in, “Like… in my chest.”

“Yeah? Feelin’ it here?” Negan asks, a smirk beginning to play at his lips in response to your pure innocence. His hand slides up your body, brushing along smooth silk, until it comes to rest just in the channel between your plump breasts. He applies a slight pressure, a firm hand that sits over your heart, where he can feel it increase in tempo.

At this, you smile, pink lips curving upwards while you lean in a little, head tilting up to look at him. Negan feels inclined to mimic the motion, allowing you closer until he can feel your soft breaths against his mouth, lips slightly parted in anticipation.

His eyes flicker down, weighting the severity of these temptations, before meeting your gaze again. “If you wanna do this, baby-girl, then there is no going back,” He advises, voice lowered to match the tension of the situation, “I am going to tear you apart.”

A mixture of anticipation and fear floods your stomach, butterflies tingling and reaching areas that you’d forbidden yourself from touching. Only the slightest motion is required until your lips are touching, pressing against his, causing you to shift closer on your lap.

Negan takes note of your pure eagerness, licking into his mouth with no hesitation, letting your tongues intertwine like you’re trying to taste every inch of his mouth. You’re drunk off the feeling, how he tastes like whiskey and cigarettes, and you can feel his stubble irritating the skin around your mouth but it feels so inexplicably good.

You’re ravenous, fulfilling that deep yearning that’s directed your every movement for the past year. But Negan wants to take it slow, pull you apart, help you understand everything that he’s capable of doing to your body.

So he wraps a hand in your soft hair, balling it around his fist and holding the back of your head in place. A desperate whine leaves you when he pulls his face away, a grin quickly spreading upon seeing your dissatisfied pout.

“Not so fast, baby.” He hums, before diving in once more, directing the pace of the kiss himself.

Whenever you get too eager, trying to take control, Negan will pull away again, letting you gasp and whine and beg him to kiss you again. It’s utterly pathetic, you’ve barely even started and it’s already apparent just how much control Negan has over you, a notion that makes him feel completely elated and also extremely aroused.

It feels like an eternity, with you seated in his lap, leisurely making out and learning exactly what makes you tick. Negan finally lets go of your hair, giving appreciative pets through the silky locks and then down your back, before two large hands are hooking underneath your ass and pulling you upwards.

The sudden movement causes you to gasp, arms quickly gripping onto Negan to steady yourself, but he’s strong enough to manhandle you onto the desk. That white nightgown bunches at your hips, and Negan pushes it upwards to your waist, letting out a low whistle at the sight of your little white lace panties.

“Look at you, princess.” He grumbles, pushing your thighs apart on the desk to get a proper look. There’s a wet stain right over your core, and Negan shamelessly presses his fingers against the thin fabric. The contact makes you squirm, bracing your hands behind you on the wooden desk.

He brings himself closer by pushing the chair forward, whilst simultaneously gripping your thighs and pulling you towards him. Closing the gap, Negan presses his nose against your clothed cunt, letting his tongue dart out to further soil the sticky fabric. The lewd act causes you to gasp, nails scratching against the surface and legs shaking, clamping around his head.

“Tastes so fucking good, baby-girl. This pussy was just made for me.” Negan groans, inhaling your intoxicating scent mixed with the slightly salty taste on his tongue. It took everything in him not to completely brutalise your poor cunt, though he knew it would be sopping by the time he was finished.

Two large, rough hands skate up your thighs, fingers slipping into the dainty handles of your panties. Negan pulls the straps down, letting the fabric fall from your hips and down your legs. Instead of discarding the item onto the floor, or setting it aside, Negan slips them into a nearby drawer. You clock the action, and it makes your face flush bright red.

Negan takes a moment to admire the sight of your bare skin, his hands tracing loving circles into your thighs. “Fuck, can’t believe this is all for me.” He groans, before finally, finally, bringing his mouth close enough to make contact your with your heat.

He licks a long line from your dripping hole, to your clit. Tongue flattened, feeling every ridge of your pussy. The sensation is completely new, leaving you to gasp over him, palms splayed out against the wooden desk. It’s tempting to squeeze his head in your thighs, to completely crumble, but you keep them open and spread.

The effort must be visible, because Negan tilts his head to the side, pressing a tender kiss against your skin. “Bein’ such a good girl, aren’t you? Don’t worry, baby. Let go for me.”

Each word of encouragement is rumbled into the meat of your thighs, and eventually, back into your waiting cunt. It’s overwhelming, in the best way possible, and Negan takes the time to talk you through the pleasure, albeit muffled by how devotedly he’s eating you out.

You squirm against the desk, little pants and surprised cries leaving your mouth, struggling to adjust to the sensation of Negan’s lips suctioning over your clit, creating a steady motion that causes a whole other wave of pleasure to wash over your shoulders.

But then, he’s pressing a single, thick digit against your hole. There’s a slight resistance, but Negan takes his time, circling his finger around the silky cavern until it finally gives, sucking his finger inside. All of this, whilst he continues his assault on your pussy, licking into it shamelessly in a pattern he’s learnt will give you the most pleasure.

“Fuck, it’s.. I-I dunno if I can take it.” You mumble when Negan perseveres, pushing another finger into your warm cunt. It’s a tight fit, but he’s willing to make it work. Determined.

“Oh, baby. You will be taking a lot more than this.”

It fills you with a sense of fear, an anxious feeling growing in the pit of your stomach, like you’ve swallowed a rock. Until Negan pushes his fingers upwards a little, and you practically jump from the desk, a ragged moan leaving your throat. He continues to press against the fleshy spot, meanwhile suctioning his lips around your clit and sucking hard.

You gasp and cry, little tears filling your eyes as you drop backwards. One arm supports you on the desk, the other moving so that you can grip onto Negan’s short, dark hair. Your nails scratch as his scalp, but he doesn’t care, because it’s only a sign of how much pleasure he’s bringing you.

It sounds like you’re trying to say something through the distraught moans, but the words carry no meaning, practically unintelligible. It’s like your bones have turned to jelly, this new feeling arising in your stomach, something you haven’t felt before.

It feels like pressure, an intense pressure. It builds and builds, and you know that it’ll snap soon, but you can’t find your words in order to warn Negan. Yet, he already knows, of course he knows. By the end of this, he’ll understand your body better than you do. Maybe he already does.

Because when it snaps, your orgasm finally reaching its peak, Negan only quickens the pace of his fingers and tongue. His other hand is now on your lower stomach, leaving soft pets against the skin, gently trying to bring you down from everything.

Now, Negan would love nothing more than to keep going, to devour your sopping pussy until you’re crying tears of pain, begging him to relent. One day, he’ll have you like that. Not now, not while you’re still adjusting to everything that he’s possible of giving you.

The hand previously positioned in his hair falls down to his shoulder, where Negan finally brings his face up from your pussy, leaning in closer to you. His beard is shiny with your slick, fingers similarly coated in it, and there are red marks from where his stubble had irritated your sensitive thighs.

You look a mess.

Panting, teary eyed. Face all red and flushed, looking up at him. Your mouth opens to speak, but Negan is quick to cover it with his own, capturing you in a deep kiss.

It’s messy, passionate, though you’re really worn out. Yet, you show him your appreciation, licking feverishly into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue. Then you’re leaning forward, pushing yourself back into a sitting position on the desk, arms wrapped around Negan’s shoulders.

When you break apart, he nudges your cheek with his nose, moving to press kisses against your skin. “How ‘bout I get you into bed, huh?”

You push away from him, shaking your head. There’s a look of confusion on your face, a small pour forming against your lips. “No, no, not yet. We can keep going.” You protest, looking up at him with the most precious, hurt little eyes.

Negan moves his hand up, capturing your face in his grasp, holding you still. His thumb rubs at your plump bottom lip, still wet with his spit, all bitten and red.

“You really want this?” He asks, “Because ‘s gonna hurt, baby. It’ll feel good, but it’ll hurt first.”

You only nod, separating yourself from his hold, to lie back against the wooden desk. It’s slightly uncomfortable, and cold against the naked skin of your thighs, but you prop your feet up against the wood in order to present yourself to him.

It’s lewd, a temptation, you’re trying to lure him in. And it works. Of course it does. Negan can’t deny you any longer, not with that sweet smile, beautiful little face. He wants nothing more than to know that you’re his, and only his.

“Beautiful girl.” He rumbles, splaying a hand over your stomach, running it up over the curve of your breasts. The silk nightgown is pushed upwards, until it’s pooled around your neck. Negan leans down, helping you to sit up a little, so that he can remove the nightgown completely.

Now, you lay bare on his desk, causing him to whistle at the sight. There’s already a damp spot near the edge, where your pussy had stained the wood, a mixture of slick and Negan’s spit. There was another pool forming, where your legs now lay spread at the end, awaiting the blessed moment you’d been dreaming about.

Negan is careful about it, sticks his fingers back into your sopping hole, making sure it’s maintained it’s previous elasticity. It practically sucks him in, and to prove your point, you squeeze your muscles around his fingers.

“Okay, baby. Don’t get impatient on me.” He coos, one hand remaining on your thigh, whilst the other works at removing his pants.

They drop to the floor with a heavy noise, to which he doesn’t bother to fully move them, letting the denim slump around his boots. You prop yourself up a little, looking down the length of your body to where Negan finally reveals his cock.

It’s thick, much thicker than his fingers. How is that even supposed to fit in there? It’s wide around the base and tip, long and curved upwards, towards his stomach. Subconsciously, your legs close a little, but Negan keeps his grip firm as he presses your thighs against the desk.

“You still wanna do this, baby?” He asks, despite his greater instinct to just claim what’s in front of him. Admittedly, it’s been a little difficult to hold off this long.

If you were anyone else, the act would be long done by now. But this was different. You were different. He still wanted to take care of you, like you were a helpless little girl, except you weren’t. This was your plan, after all. Like a lioness, you’d hunted him down, and there no way you were going home without your reward.

A smile spreads on your lips, looking up at him through your lashes, “Yes, please.”

It’s said in that same sweet tone, as if you’re not actually begging for his cock, but another bedtime story. Like you aren’t naked on his desk, pussy dripping down onto the wood, completely spread out like a lavish meal.

“Good girl.” He mumbles, pulling your legs so that they dangle over either of his shoulders, pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee. At this angle, he can already feel your heat, so, so close to him.

One hand grips his cock, the other planted across your stomach, a large hand splayed over your skin for comfort. Negan looks down, guiding himself to finally press against your core. There’s a slight resistance, but in no time, he’s length is being sucked into your gooey walls.

There’s a pensive look on your face, which he notices, causing a smile to grow on his own. Your nose twitches slightly, chewing on your bottom lip, trying to adjust to the new feeling. It doesn’t necessarily feel bad, just strange.

But, Negan is only able to get the first few inches in, until there’s a hitch in the process. He leans down, letting you wrap your arms around him, and captures your mouth in a kiss. You give in instantly, preoccupied completely with licking into his mouth, therefore not fully aware of the firm thrust he gives to break through the barrier.

You hiss into his mouth, accidentally biting down onto his lip. Negan doesn’t seem to mind, as he begins pressing kisses down your jaw and neck, leaving a trail of bloody marks in his wake.

“Shh, you’re okay,” He soothes, keeping his hips still, not yet pressing any further until the pain has subsided, “Ain’t gonna hurt for much longer.”

The promise proves fruitful, as within a few moments, you’re wiggling a little in his grasp, giving the silent permission to continue. You look down the gap between you, watching as Negan’s cock slowly pushes further in, until your hips are finally flush.

“Breathe, babygirl.” He murmurs, still licking and sucking over your skin. The wet trail continues, until Negan pays attention to your plump breasts, his tongue collecting the beads of sweat that’s built from the exertion.

You claw at his neck, one hand making it’s way into his hair, scratching slightly at his scalp. Then he’s moving, gently pulling out, until just the tip remains. You breathe through the uncomfortable feeling as he pushes back in, a mixture of your slick and a little blood dripping down your ass, only to pool on the wooden desk.

It’s intense, having Negan stretch you open on his cock, the kind of sensation you’d never felt before. You keep watching between you, keen interest in your eye, which he finds adorable. Even as he speeds up a little, the twinge of pain subsiding into a constant flow of pleasure, you’re still fighting to keep your eyes on him.

He readjusts, bringing your legs back down, only to firmly pin your thighs to the desk. In this position, you’re completely spread for him, causing a blush of embarrassment to rise on your cheeks.

It doesn’t last long, as Negan has found the perfect angle to thrust up into you, causing you to raggedly moan and your eyes to squeeze shut. He continues to hammer the same spot, and it feels heavenly, like his cock is actually in your stomach.

You scratch at the wooden desk, gripping for dear life as Negan holds you still, both large hands planted across your thighs. He’s gripping and kneading them, and you hope they’ll be bruised the next day.

But finally being sheathed in your wet heat is it’s own struggle for Negan, as he’s trying to hold off cumming for as long as possible. He’d been rock-hard the entire time you were making out, but this? It was a victory better than war.

So he moves one hand off your thigh, bringing it to your swollen and abused clit. You gasp as he makes contact, tracing firm, tight circles over the muscle that make your eyes roll back, pathetic noises leaving your parted lips.

“That’s it, baby. Cum for daddy.” He praises, leaning down to leave dark marks on the junction of your neck. You wrap your arms around him, sobbing into his shoulder as Negan continues to fuck into you, hitting that fleshy spot that causes you to cry.

It’s obvious when your orgasm hits you, as your whole body shudders, moans tapered off into high-pitched whines of pleasure. Your gooey walls clench around Negan’s cock, making him groan into your flesh, putting more force behind his thrusts.

Luckily, it’s all he needs to finish, pumping his cum deep into your channel. The overstimulation causes your hips to twitch, legs jolting with the sudden sensation, but Negan tests your limits, shallowly pushing his seed deeper inside you.

Your nails scratch at his neck, eyes pricking with overworked tears, “It’s too much.” You squeak out, voice all raw from all those noises that had been forced from your throat.

“Okay, beautiful,” Negan whispers, pulling himself out of your sensitive cunt, hands gently soothing the bruised skin of your thighs, “But next time, you’ll take it until I say so.”

It’s vaguely threatening, and causes another wave of arousal to ebb through your stomach. However, your mind focuses on one thing, a bashful and pleased smile growing on your tired face.

“Next time?”

It catches Negan off guard slightly, realising what he’d said. That, and you just look so happy, like you’ve finally gotten what you wanted.

“Of course, darlin’. You belong to me.” He assures, savouring the fact that you were so eager to be with him, despite everything.

That night, the nightmares didn’t return. Of course, you didn’t go back to your bed, but instead Negan’s. He took care of you from then on out, it was safe to say you were his new favourite.

[l0standn0tf0und]

(I'll be honest, I don't really remember what the book says about this. And it’s also important to note that canon and fanon got mixed up in my head so much, so I can`t separate them)

But!

Just hear me out! Ok? It could be painful but anyway

Think about how Sirius came to Grimmauld Place for the first time since Azkaban. Firstly, he didn’t just come there after 12 years in prison. He came there for the first time since he was 16! But that's not the point.

The portrait of Walburga! I'm sure Sirius spoke to her!

Walburga couldn't just remain silent when she saw Sirius. She screamed at him, how he dared to come there, tried to kick him out of the Grimmauld. So Sirius immediately ordered Kreacher to cover the portrait. He tried to remove her from the wall… many and many times, but it was unsuccessful. So he had to accept that his mother would continue to grumble from under the cloth. Every time Sirius passed by, she continued to mutter, sometimes scream, and insult her own son. She called him a disgrace to the family, a blood traitor and said that he was not her son, not Black, and had no right to be here, she wished him death a lot of times. Walburga wanted to get him, to hurt him, and Sirius knew it. He knew he should ignore her. He tried, tried very hard to ignore insults from the woman who gave him life. It happened that several times he stopped in front of the covered portrait, but after a second, he gathered his strength and kept walking. But at one particular moment, something broke inside of Sirius. He furiously pulled the cloth off the portrait.

Just think about that conversation, if you can call it a conversation, that happened next.

Please, I'm begging, someone write extremely angsty and heartbreaking fanfic about it.

And also a few things that, in my opinion, happened then:

No matter how emotionally Walburga had screamed before, but the moment Sirius tore off the cloth, shouting “enough!” his mother sat there calmly with the coldest expression on her face, and the first thing she said was: “I’m not surprised that you betrayed Potters. You've been a wimp since childhood". And it was the moment they both new it, she got him, it was the point of no return.

It also seems to me that Walburga would blame Sirius for the death of his brother. Not because she thought so. Because she was hurt by the loss of Regulus, and she wanted to hurt Sirius the same way.

When Remus entered the Grimmauld Place that day, the first thing he heard was Walburga`s grating voice, resonating through the house in insults. She kept exclaiming all those awful things about family betrayal, Regulus`s death, and Potters, she even mentioned Remus. The next thing he found was Sirius on the floor in the very corner of the room, in complete darkness, because Sirius got used to this after 12 years. To the darkness and cold floor. Sirius sat there looking as miserable as never before. He was hugging his knees and rocking back and forth paranoidly. His eyes were red, tears were streaming down his cheeks, and all Sirius could say was a quiet and repeated "enough" mixed with sobs.

And also think if there was a portrait of Regulus in the house and if Sirius ever spoke to him.

this pics was created by Ai. I couldn't choose which one is better, that's it

[witch-girly]

Tarot:Major Arcana

(Simplified, pt. 1)

1.The Magician

Seeing the path ahead

Taking action & making decisions

Stop overthinking

Reversed

Blocked flow

Projects aren’t going ideally

2.The High Priestess

Appreciate the feminine in the world

Value in depth, sensitivity, contemplation

Reversed

Tone down & refocus your energy

3. The Empress

Something of abundance is headed your way

Reversed

Suggests a time of struggling with not having enough of something

4.The Emperor

Divine Masculine

Protection, Order, Power

Reversed

Tyranny

Lack of focus

5.The Hierophant

Learning, Routine, Tradition

Take counsel of trusted ones

Reversed

Rebellion, Chaos, Rejection

Shift in values

6.The Lovers

Love coming your way

Love yourself first

Reversed

Jealousy, separation, indecision

Struggles in love ahead

7.The Chariot

Issues will be resolved soon

Development & growth: not without struggle

Reversed

Upcoming danger

Failures standing in the way

8.Strength

Compassion, charisma, patience

Reversed

Lack of courage

Hopelessness

9.The Hermit

Intense transformation

Spend time alone

Reverse

Too much isolation

10. Wheel Of Fortune

Abundance

Beginning of a new season

Reversed

Change is being ignored

11. Justice

Clear path to success

Balance

Important choice

Reversed

Imbalance, dishonesty, unfairness

12.The Hanged Man

Experience is deepened, refocused, or intensified

Change in perspective

Positive change

Reversed

Trouble adjusting to change

Fighting progress

Wrong level of self-awareness

13.Death

Positive

New Beginnings

Passion

Reversed

Pessimism, Fear

14.Temperance

Magic

Potential pain

Reversed

Imbalanced, Argumentative

Feeling of being fragmented

15.The Devil

Someone in your life is controlling

Potential addiction

Reversed

Unhappiness

Lack of self control

16. The Tower

Imprisoned, Conflict

Fighting for beliefs

Reversed

Avoidance of responsibility

17. The Star

Transcendent openness

Healing & wholeness

Reversed

Wasting time

Loss of self-respect

18.The Moon

Divine Feminine

Truth

Reversed

Confusion

19. The Sun

Expansiveness & success

Clarity & focus

Reversed

Arrogance, self-doubt

Refusal to share knowledge

20. Judgement

Rebirth

Decision making

Changes ahead

Reversed

Ignoring change

21. The World

Completion

Celebrating accomplishments

Reversed

Delay in success

22. The Fool

Innocence, openness, playfulness

Reversed

Irrational, Naive

Never progressing

🌸✨🤍🖤

Pt. 2 is out on my page 💜💙

[legend-the-dumb-jock]

Walking I got he old man’s office, Josè already knew what he was going to bargain for. After years of trying and never being able to achieve his ideal body type, he had resulted to drastic measures. Measures that led him to the old abandoned looking store in the back ally of this run down city. He was surprised when the ancient man behind the counter looked up at him and grinned. All Josè had to do was tell the old man his desire and next thing he knew a cold wind blew through the store while old man cackled. Josè was pushed from the store by a invisible force and right before him the door of the shop disappeared as if it had never been there. Leaving him to wonder if after all this time his searches were for nothing.

Turned away from the alley he began to walk back to his car. Another loss in his search for the ideal body he was trying to achieve.

Back in his apartment he skimmed through online forums trying to find something else that could work to help him get what he wanted. He was at a loss. He was willing to do anything to get the ideal body he wanted. Thinking back to his encounter with the old man he was sure that his request “make me bulking bear of a man!” Would have interested the old man but it seemed as though he was mistaken. He slammed the laptop he was searching the internet on and got in bed. Disappointed with the way his day has ended.

During the night tho he began to change. His skin began to take on a brown hugh. He tossed and turned not even aware that his body was changing while he slept. A thick beard quickly grew on his face while it looked as tho a carpet of thick dark hair began to push out of his skin. His nose rounded out as his cheek bones pushed out. Changing the shape of his face while his eyes became a little smaller. His feet thickened and lengthened. Stretching from an 11 to size 16 wide. His feet poked out from the bottom of his covers as he got taller growing from 5’10” to 6’3”. When he woke up the next morning, He was unrecognizable.

Letting out a loud yawn he noticed instantly that his voice was much deeper than it ever was before. His eyes shot open and he propped himself up. Seeing hairy feet poking out of the bottom the blanket he yanked the blanket off his body. Yelping at the hairy tanned body that was under his control. He took time getting ready. Exploring every inch of his body. The hairiness, the bigger feet, and even the bigger package that made him reposition himself. Sitting now with his legs spread eagle so he didn’t crush his new package. Going to the bathroom he took a picture and couldn’t help but smile. Finally having what he wanted.

He went out and for the first time in his life he was happy with himself. Confident in how he looked. Men would stop and. Hawk at him as he was the epitome of a hairy Hispanic daddy bear now. At the gym he couldn’t help but take a picture of himself. Posing while he felt the sweat drip down his hairy body after his first workout in his new body.

He was amazed at the strength he now possessed. He did t think there anything he couldn’t do. He was on top of the world.

When he got back home, he sat down to relax on the couch while he wait for his food to arrive that he ordered. He was committed to keeping this body in tip too shape now that he finally had it and that meant continuing on with his very strict diet of rice and chicken. Which was cheap when he could order it from the Chinese restaurant down the road. When the door bell rang his plain rice and bland chicken was there. He sat to eat the whole time still trying to get used to new bulk he had wished onto himself. Then the smell hit him. At first he thought something was rotting but soon was horrified to find it was his own breathe. Almost like he had halitosis. I. The bathroom he quickly brushed his teeth to get himself his horrible breath but didn’t do any good. It wasn’t long after that he smelled bo. Very pungent and enough to make his own nose burn. He jumped in the shower to wash the stink off. His own feet beginning to itch from the tangled hair and sweat that now adorned them. When he was done with his shower he had a few moments of freshness before the smell was back. Almost as if he never showered! What was worse was even though he has just dried himself off he could feel a heavy sweat droplet rubbing down his hairy back. Josè couldn’t make sense of what was happening. But it had to be worth it if it meant that he was going to be a like this. He loaded on the deodorant and popped some breathe mints. It was already much better than it was before. He just didn’t realize that with a body like this is meant new smells would come with it.

That might be tossed and turned some more in his bed. Just like the night before he was unaware that his body was still changing. Only this time all he did was sweat. The next morning he woke up he was in a puddle of sweat. His bed sounded like a wet spinach as the blankets and sheets stuck to his hairy body. The room smelt like a sauna only this was a permanent smell he would have to get use to.

Walking to the bathroom he thought he heard something. But he couldn’t make out the noise. In the bathroom he ran the water for his shower. Brushed his teeth and breathed into his hand. Yeah. Still horrible breathe. Popping some mints he got in the shower and did the same routine he did the night before. He felt so weird this morning though. He could feel his stomach gurgling. Like gas was building up inside. And when the water was shot off as if on command a loud fart escaped. When he got out of the shower he felt odd. The steam in the room was thick and hard to see. He wiped the mirror down and was scared at what he was seeing. The sound he heard. The gurgling sensation. It was all coming from his stomach. Which was slowly pushing outward.

He tried to suck his stomach in but found it impossible as it just kept pushing outward. Soon love handled formed and would hang over jock straps whenever he wore them.

His body continued to expand. His chest becoming heavy while his arms got even bigger. Soon his weight had had went from 175 to 250!

He didn’t know what to make of everything happened. His stomach was large and round now. Hard to touch. What little fat there was jiggled when he walked. This wasn’t what he wanted at all. He didn’t have anything that would fit him now. Everything would be skin tight or impossible to wear. He heard a wicked laugh laugh coming from the door way and looking over he seen the old man. “Get used to it. You’ve got some more weight to gain. You wanted to be a bear. So you’re going to be one”.

[bits-and-babs]

hi, i'm so very sorry for your loss, hope you're okay since it's been a few days since you posted this

could i ask a combo 14 - 16 - 23 with our favorite flyboy poe dameron with a nice and happy ending <3

sending you all my love :))

-ˋˏ 𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐊𝐀 𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃 ˎˊ-

— pairing: Poe Dameron x f!Reader

— word count: 1.1k

— warnings: Jealous Poe, Tipsy Poe. Thigh riding, exhibitionism, dirty talk as ALWAYS. Consumption of alcohol. References to sex, 18+, Ya Nasties.

— authors note: Thank you so much for your condolences, I am doing much better now <3 this ask was DELICIOUS to write, I really appreciate the distraction. I don’t know if it’s exactly what you wanted but I started writing and couldn’t stop!

poe dameron masterlist I| main masterlist |I send me an ask

A sour scent of Spotchka permeates the cantina booth you sit in and burns your nose. It's flowing heavily today to celebrate a significant win against the First Order, the liquid soaked into the seats. The implosion of the Star Killer base had been a critical mission success, one that guaranteed The Resistance the opportunity to fight another day.

Morale was high, and General Organa saw no reason to put a stop to the celebrations when everyone was in need of some sort of release.

However, you feel tenser than you did in the sky, blasting tie fighters; muscles primed and ready to spring. Your brain has initiated evasive action, but your body is frozen in place by the oak-brown eyes that settle intensely on your face.

Poe swirls the blue beverage in the tumble glass, creating a miniature whirlpool, not unlike the twisting feeling in your stomach. His gaze, irises obscured by his hooded eyelids, sets sparks across your skin like an ion charge.

He lifts the glass to his lips, taking a swig of the azure liquid and savouring the burn on his tongue. You hear him exhale slowly through his nose despite the din of the bustling Cantina. It's like your senses are honed in on the gold leader, blurring out the background noise.

"So, you and Gold-Twelve, huh?”

Your mouth dries when his eyes lift back to you, a playful spark of something dangerous flitting in his pupils. Had he seen that? The flirty arm that Kori had wrapped around your waist. The squeeze he’d given your hip— the brush of his palm against the curve of your ass.

“H-Huh?”

“Sure seems like he was getting cosy with you, Seven.” His tone is pointed but not vicious. There’s something clipped in his voice- something envious.

“N-No-… No, we’re jus-“

“No?” He asks you, pointing to the bar while maintaining a grip on the crystal glass in his hand, “Could have fooled me, Seven. He seemed ready to take you to his bunk.”

You feel heat flush your face, eyes burning into the ak-wood tabletop. Had it been imported from Tython? The rings and swirls within the grain were pretty, maybe pretty enough to convince Poe you were too distracted to listen to his probing questions-

“Come here.”

Your body betrays you. Startled by his order, your eyes snap up to his face. Poe’s eyebrow is quirked upwards, indicating his unwillingness to wait. He’s radiating this energy, something that makes your insides scream with delight.

“B-But-“

“If you’re not seeing Kori, come here.”

Seeing?! What the kriff did he even mean by that? Did he think you two were sleeping together, because you sure as kark weren’t dating! You stumble like a newborn foal out of your side of the booth, practically floating around the table to reach where he waits expectantly.

You barely slide into the booth when he’s pulling you onto his lap, hands vice-like on your hips as he settles you on his left thigh. A gasp rips itself from your throat, whiny in pitch, when he balances on his toes and grinds the muscle of his against your clit.

He’s gazing up at you, those eyes melting like chocolate when he looks at you through his lashes. Poe reminds you so much of it, rich and sweet and rare. When he parts his lips, your tongue begs to taste them, craving the oxytocin.

“I-“ you stumble; the sweep of his hands up your back in a soothing gesture makes your heart stutter and slam into your throat. “I’mnotdatingKori!”

The induced slur of the admission makes him smile, leaning up ever so slightly to get closer to you. Spotchka hangs heavy on his breath when he exhales a sigh, the tip of his nose brushing against the soft flesh of your cheek when he presses a kiss to your jaw.

“Good. That’s good,” he murmurs, his own words dripping together as though all the blue alcohol has hit him all at once. Poe isn’t totally drunk. He needs rivers of Spotchka to get intoxicated, preferring the much stronger Jet-Juice as it was less of a drain on his credits and more of a buzz on his brain.

No, if you knew better, you’d realise that he’s inebriated by you. The feeling of your body on his, the feeling of your cunt grinding on his lap when he drags you forward.

Whimpering, your hands fly out to hold onto the leather shoulders of his jacket. You’re trembling already, the effects of his touch hitting you much harder than even the strongest of alcoholic beverages they served in this shitty cantina. The friction, even through your clothes, settles a twisting feeling in your abdomen when he slides his palms under your ass, grabbing a handful of you and using it as leverage.

“P-Poe-“ you moan out his name, knowing damn well that half of the patrons in the damn bar could look over and see you getting all but fucked by the Black Leader, right hand to General Leia Organa.

“So pretty for me on my lap,” he whispers, eyes engulfed by the blackness of his pupils as he sweeps them over your form as you roll your hips across the length of his muscular thigh. Poe Dameron was well known for being too damn ‘thick’ for his x-wing seat, and you can feel why. “Think you’d look so pretty for me on my cock, baby. Fuck, look at you-“

Stars, you’re gripping the leather of the booth, fingernails scratching the surface beyond repair as you feel a surge pass through you, crackling like force-lightning up your spinal cord and short-fusing your brain.

“Nuh-uh,” he shakes his head at you, lips pulling apart in another Dameron-Dreamy smile as he works his hands between you, belt clicking quietly amongst the loud celebration of drunk revellers. “Pretty baby’s gonna wait until I’ve got a taste of what she looks like all filled up.”

Spotchka and endorphins are flooding your system; you don’t even bother to second-guess the location, the people in the room, the logistics. You just scramble to remove your cargo pants, Poe’s fingers hooking into the waistband and yanking them down just enough to slip you onto his aching dick.

The whole of Yavin 4 learns that you most certainly are not ‘seeing’ Gold-Twelve and that Black Leader Poe Dameron had already staked his claim, much to Kori’s disappointment.

Much to your delight.

END

[percervall]

Trick or treat!

the devil's in the details

Dominik Szoboszlai x fem!reader

warnings: AU, mentions of domestic abuse, hinting at loss of virginity, stalking, Catholic guilt, implications of purity culture

In which you made a deal with the devil

At first it was just a feeling, this raising of the hairs on the back of your neck. Surely it was just your mind playing tricks on you, Halloween was right around the corner and thus you chalked it up to that. However, the feeling wouldn’t shake even after Halloween came and went. 

And then you started not only feeling eyes on you, you began seeing him. He’d be there in the background of your reflection of shop windows, in your peripheral vision whenever you crossed the road. It was unnerving to say the least, and yet you also couldn’t help but swallow thickly whenever you spotted this dark stranger, looming in the shadows, as your thoughts became sordid. Every time you caught yourself fantasising just a little about being hunted down by him to have his way with you, you would cross yourself and whisper the act of contrition under your breath. He was… Enticing. Beautiful even. But there was an aura of caution as well; his dark hair and gaze combined with the beard and glint of silver rings as he adjusted his black coat should have been enough of a warning to stay the hell away from him. Oh, but where’s the fun in that? a little voice inside your head would whisper whenever you got caught staring back at him and he’d smirk before disappearing into thin air. And then you stopped seeing him for two days. A week. Not having his eyes on left you feeling unmoored at first until it became just another thing you accepted. Which meant that when it was his face you looked up to when someone handed you one of the apples that had dropped out of your bag, you were rooted to the spot at first.

“Uhm, t-thank you..” you managed to stutter out, quickly grabbing it from his outstretched hand. He just smirked at you, keeping his eyes on you as you reshuffled the contents of the totebag to ensure the rest of its contents remained inside. 

“You have no idea who I am, do you?” 

His question rattled you, making you take another good look at him to make sure you did in fact not recognise him.

“Should I?” Your reply wasn’t meant to come across as deviant but judging by the quirk of his lips, he was somehow expecting this reaction from you. 

“You wound me,” he said, a hand clutching at his chest in mock-pain, “Ten years, and this is how you treat me?” He tutted at you, grinning now.

“I-I am really sorry.. I don’t think we’ve met?” It wasn’t meant to come out as a question.

“Allow me to refresh your memory, sweetheart,” the tall stranger said, his fingertips brushing against your temple. The noise of the city fell away, the street morphing into a dimly lit park, leaving just the two of you. You were about to ask him what in God’s green earth was going on when you saw a young woman –a teenager really, approaching a bench with a mix of determination and apprehension written all over her face as she wrapped her parka tighter around herself. It took another second before you realised you knew that girl –you used to be that girl; A girl consumed by worry every time her sister came home for Sunday roast while trying to hide the bruises he had left her. 

“So can you help me?” you heard your younger self ask, pulling you from your memories. 

“That depends. You know a deal like this comes at a price?”

“I- I don’t have money.. All-..” You watched your teenage self’s confidence falter as she scrambled to come up with something worth bargaining, “All I can offer is m-my virginity.” It came out as a whisper but you didn’t need to hear in order to remember exactly how you felt when you uttered those words; the white hot shame tinged with something else you couldn’t quite name at 16 but you now recognised as lust. 

“Mm, judging by the look on your face you know exactly who I am, don’t you sweetheart?” the man next to you said. 

“Lucifer,” you whispered, a sense of panic crawling up your throat.

“I go by many names, but you can call me Dominik.” The grin he gave you made you swallow hard and clench your thighs together –much to Dominik’s amusement.

“You made me a promise, and darling you better have kept your end of this bargain or I am going to be very upset,” he almost cooed in your ear, brushing your hair back. It sent shivers down your spine and you were quick to nod.

“Mm, good. Please know that I intend to collect with interest, sweetheart.” 

The implication of his words had you whimpering. Your chest tightened with guilt at the image he painted for you; at how he would most likely ruin you in more ways than one, and whether Father Michaels would allow you back into the church if he ever found out.

“Please, forgive me Father…” you began whispering, crossing yourself almost on autopilot. You had to close your eyes at Dominik’s laugh.

“Oh, he can’t save you now. You made your bed, now lie in it.”

Welp, it only seemed fitting to give you the Dominik AU. It's technically not finished but I have no idea if it ever will become more than this. Thanks for feeding this brainrot Amy, I had a lot of fun exploring this dynamic

Wanna go trick or treating?

[lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom]

Worst Case Scenario

Echo x Reader

Summary- After an ambush from the Empire, you, Echo, and Omega must escape by yourselves. Hunter and Wrecker sacrifice themselves to let you three live. Based on Season 2, Ep. 16

A/N- This is angst angst angst! But semi-sweet ending. Always open to constructive criticism, thank you!

Word Count- 1,837

"You know... I tried to look out for you boys... You too." Cid said, turning her gaze from Wrecker to you.

You immediately got an unsettling feeling in your stomach. Well, more than you had since Tech's fall. Tech's death... Tears threatened to prickle at the thought, but you had to stay strong. Especially being Omegas role model...

Echo had once called you her mother figure, you remember turning red. You dismissed him jokingly, but it gave you that warm feeling in your chest. You certainly loved Omega like a daughter. You don't think there is anything you wouldn't do for her.

"You've just got too much heat on you... and you brought it here... at my place of business... I had to make the best out of a bad situation..."

You didn't even listen to Wrecker's response, as you took off for Omega's room. Blaster sounds and lasers erupted.

With a hand on your side blaster, you turned the corner and slid into Omegas temporary room.

Hunter was already standing, eyes wide.

"Call for Echo." He instructed.

You had never felt so much fear. You had all been in tight situations like this before- only now you were all beaten emotionally and physically.

"Yes sir." You mustered, out of pure habit.

"What's happening?" Omega started, standing at the blaster effects.

"It's the Empire- You two take the mining tunnels to the space port and find Echo." He looked at you, understanding the reality of the situation. "I'll get Wrecker." No, he was going to stall and buy us some time. Hunter was a smart clone, he knew what he was doing.

You tried to check the comms while Hunter pushed out a box, revealing the tunnel entrance. All you heard was static on every channel.

"But you're injured! You can't fight them alone!" She pleaded.

"You two need to go, that's an order." Hunter always commanded with authority, but there was a hint of pleading in his voice.

Omega jumped to hug Hunter, squeezing his side strongly.

"I love you." She whispered.

"I love you too, Omega."

After an exchange of glances that spoke a million words, Omega started down the tunnel. You stopped for a second, turning, and rested a hand on Hunters shoulder.

"Protect her." He insisted.

"I will... And we'll find you..." You tried to stay hopeful, but it was difficult with the past few days you had.

He gave a glance down the tunnel, Omega was too far to hear his next words.

"No, you need to get her out of here." You had never seen him so demanding.

"But-" He interrupted you.

"Now. Don't look back."

You simply nodded and headed down the tunnels.

Omega stopped on the bottom platform, you jumping down behind her.

"I can't do it.." Omega started, followed by your name. She sniffed- "We already lost Tech."

"And I am not going to lose you Omega." You said, at a loss for any word of comfort. You did though, step closer.

"No, we are going back." She tried to climb up, you blocked her way.

"Let me go!" She yelled, getting more frustrated.

"Omega!" She stopped struggling and looked at you. You crouched down to be level with her.

"We have to leave and find Echo." You gently grabbed her hands in yours. "He will know what to do. Us two, we can't take on the Empire by ourselves"

"We can't leave Wrecker and Hunter!" She yelled, arms pulling back. You inhaled deeply, you didn't want to leave them either. But you couldn't help anyone if you were all dead. You knew they were after Omega, and nothing was going to stop them.

Better three dead siblings than six, you thought gruesomely.

She looked you dead in the eyes, "If it was Echo you would go back!" You bit your bottom lip. Maybe she was right... but it wasn't Echo. It was Hunter and Wrecker, the people who would be pissed if I let her try to be a hero.

"Omega, Hunter told me to protect you. That's what I'm doing." She looked up at you with big eyes, filled with tears.

"It's not fair!" She hissed, tears falling angrily.

"I know honey, but if we don't get to Echo. We will be dead." Your breath shook at your own words. They were harsh, but not far from the truth.

She let out a small sob as you enveloped her in a hug. She clung to you desperately, almost as if it would change the circumstance.

"It's not fair.." She repeated to herself in a whisper.

You did nothing but pet her hair and hold her. After a minute you gave her a light squeeze. "We have to move before the Empire finds the ship."

She sniffled but nodded in understanding.

The two of you quickly made your way out of the tunnel exits. It was just a short run to the ship yards.

You gave a quick prayer to anyone listening before trying your comms again. The Empire scrambled the channels, but hopefully a short-range signal worked. With you and Omega crouched behind The Marauder, you tried contacting Echo.

"Echo, Omega and I are by the ship. Open the ramp." You whispered quickly. You got no response. "Echo?" You tried again.

With a loud steam, the ships doors opened. You and Omega rushed in, closing it quickly.

"Echo, we need to get out of here now!" You ran to take the Co-Pilot seat.

"What's going on, where is Hunter and Wrecker?" Echo questioned, starting up The Marauder.

With a glance behind you, you saw Omega bundled into a ball in her bunk. You still kept your voice down for your next statement.

"We were ambushed, Cid sold us out. Hunter and Wrecker gave Omega and I a window to escape." Your own eyes filled with tears at the guilt. "I had to take it." You sobbed. "I had to protect Omega." You stood true to your words, but broke down into tears.

It was a lot to process for Echo. He wanted to comfort you, but had to think logically first.

"I'm going to go back, you two need to get to Pabu." Echo stated.

"No, you don't understand Echo! That's a suicide mission!" You gasped out.

With a deep swallow, you continued- "It's the Empire!"

He snapped his head around, "We've gone against them before."

"Not this many Echo..." You let out another sob. "There are too many for us." You pulled forward, both hands cupping Echos head. "Hunter and Wrecker are already dead by now." Tears flowed freely down your face. "What do we do Echo....?"

Just as you finished, blaster noises arose. You both called for Omega, feeling much safer with her in the cockpit with the two of you.

While Echo pulled the ship up to fly, Omega was already sat in the shuttle's gunner's seat. She had a twisted look on her face as she shot freely at the Empire troopers that attacked.

You took in a deep breath, one that painfully refilled your lungs.

You viciously wiped your tears away, grabbing the handles to the front blasters of the ship. With a white-knuckled grip you shot furiously. You lost your perception of time as you fired and fired.

Echo expertly dodged most of the Empires bombs and shots, but not as well as Tech would have. Another painful reminder. Three dead. Three brothers are gone. Not to mention Crosshair was probably dead as well...

The thoughts clouded you, your grip tightened on the blaster, but you stopped firing. Your breath quickened, hyperventilating. Adrenaline was starting to lose its effect, you were crashing and burning.

Echo called your name out, you didn't move until he shouted it for the third time.

You faced him slowly, hands not moving. Your eyes were wide, mouth slightly agape.

"Hey, hey." He got up out of his seat, putting his hand on top of one of yours gently.

"It's okay, they're gone... It's over..." He pulled your hands off the handles slowly. He then cupped your face with utmost care.

"We're safe... You're safe..." With his words, you looked out the glass pane. Echo had managed to launch into hyperspace. The three of you were out of danger.

Your chest still heaved, desperate for oxygen. You shot around, looking for Omega.

She was sat in her make-shift room, clutching her stuffed toy.

You looked back at Echo, locking eyes. You embraced him strongly. He was still slightly confused on the situation, but he did what he had to keep the last of his family safe.

He pulled away to press quick kisses over your face. You were still in shock and didn't kiss back- but you leaned into his touch.

He wiped tears from your face with his hand, everything felt numb. How was he still composing himself? You questioned to yourself.

With sad eyes, you looked down, a deep breath filling you.

You reached a hand up to place on him, feeling between his breast-plates. The feeling of his chest rising calmed you.

"I'm... I'm gonna go check on Omega." You choked out, hand swiping off any last tears, quickly. He nodded, hand coming up to rest on yours. You smiled half-heartedly and slowly lowered your hand.

It was a long night of holding and rocking Omega. After the high of battle drifted away she was hysterical. Her cries were only muffled by your chest, which she clung to. You held yourself together, somehow.

When she had finally cried herself to sleep, you laid her down. Making sure that Lula, her Tooka doll, was close by.

You returned to Echo with a shaky breath. He held his arms open, an invitation for you to join him in his seat.

You took it and lowered yourself into him, melting with his touch. His arms closed around you, hand resting on your hip.

"What the hell now..." You commented, void of any emotion. You were worn out.

He thumbs the skin around your waist. "We can head to Pabu. Get resources, contact Rex, maybe even stay."

Your face scrunched up at this, you hated Pabu. Everything and everyone had a happy-go-lucky attitude. But, it didn't matter what you thought anymore. All you and Echo needed to think about is what was best for Omega.

"Or not stay, we will see what happens." He practically read your mind.

"I don't care what we do, as long as Omega is happy and safe." You glanced back at her, still sleeping.

"You need to be happy and safe too." He said, thinking about Omega and you.

You swallowed, looking down at the floor.

"So do you..." You raised your gaze to meet his. "What would make you happy, Echo?"

"Don't worry about me, you've got your hands full already." He kissed the crown of your head.

"You take care of me, I'll take care of you." You said snuggling closer to his chest.

"And we'll both take care of Omega."

A/N- Thank you so much for reading! I've never written any kind of angst or wump before, thanks for bearing with me! Tags- (lmk if you want to be tagged as well!) @thethreeeyed-raven @knight-of-flowerss

[k0z3me]

jujutsu kaisen fic recs

fics

- only lovers left alive — gojo satoru— @nezuscribe

+summary : when a disease turns the world into an apocalyptic landscape, you join a group in order to survive. you find yourself drawn to a certain blue-eyed man for no explainable reason. though the two of you have your own pasts to deal with, the two of you grow closer and closer together. after all, it seems as though you’re the only lovers left alive

- a bowl old rock candy (pt1) (pt2) — gojo satoru— @alaskasmonsters

+summary : ...it was likely that you and gojou had been friends before this curse incident that had lead you to wake up with amnesia, the last few years of your memories gone. but why was he so unbothered by your memory loss then?

- crush culture — fushiguro megumi — @mitsies

+summary : megumi fushiguro is so in love with you, it makes him look like a fool.

- all of the girls you loved before — fushiguro megumi — @somelattes

+summary : megumi can't stop thinking about having casually met your ex boyfriend

- sabotage — ryomen sukuna — @marble-anime

+summary : After finding out about your parents' plan to set you up in an arranged marriage, you ask the King of Curses to give you a baby in an attempt to sabotage their plan.

- sometimes a family is you, teen dad gojo, and the six year old child he accidentally orphaned — gojo satoru — @seravphs

+summary : Gojo’s living that hard life as a single father at the tender age of 16, so to prevent Megumi from putting himself back up for adoption, you step in. It turns out that raising a child with someone can cause complicated feelings.

- what if you’re just someone i want around — suguru geto — @saetoru

+summary : somewhere along the line, you started to hate suguru—that doesn’t mean you stopped loving him too

drabbles

headcanons

smau

series

- 7 minutes in heaven — multiple — @garoujo

+summary : you’re surrounded by some of the hottest guys on campus while playing seven minutes in heaven at a frat party? what’s the worst that can happen . . .

- blood & pearls — ryomen sukuna — @vennilavee

+summary : a lonely water nymph washes up to the shores of an enchanted lake with dreams of the sun and the stars. little do you know, that this enchanted lake belongs to the king of curses himself, ryomen sukuna. or, a series of drabbles about you, a water nymph, and a four armed demon dressed as a deity.

- uh oh! he's a dilf — toji fushiguro — @sujikuna

+summary : a collection of fics about dilf toji <3

- half of me is yours — gojo satoru — @satorini

+summary : gojo's just a man who's in love with his ex-wife.

- the hand which holds the knife — gojo satoru — @seravphs

+summary : knight!gojo x princess!reader

back to navi

[reds-skull]

Not Alive, Nor Dead

[PART 1]

Don't ask me why I wrote chapter two literally a day after the first, it's a mix of the nice comments I got and the fact I'm enjoying myself more than I expected, haha.

Ghost crashes into his desk chair, throwing two folders on the table. One was the Sergeant’s report, which he had to go through and approve before forwarding to Price, and the other…

The other was Soap’s personal file. He technically didn’t have clearance for it anymore, but Price left it on his desk next to the report, and Ghost figured he won’t notice if it disappeared for a couple hours.

Besides… he was supposed to read it before the mission. He just didn’t care in the past.

Ghost opens the file, and immediately gets greeted by a picture of Soap. He’s younger and seemed to be holding back a smile for the photo. 

John “Soap” MacTavish. Somehow, Ghost can’t see how this fiery Sergeant shares a name with the captain.

The rest of the file is pretty standard. Born in Scotland (In a town Ghost never heard of), age 27, enlisted at 16. It gets more interesting when he reaches the Revenant section.

Or, whatever he can see from it. His Reaping, his first death, is completely blacked out. His powers list the explosion immunity and creation, but another line is censored. Ghost feels cheated of information - the amount of red tape around Soap would be concerning, if it didn’t make him that more intrigued.

He flips through his previous missions fairly quickly, not expecting much of it to be uncensored. Lad was SAS before dying, the reports are practically a solid block of black ink.

Ghost continues to the medical reports, fully intending to skip those as well, and he keeps flipping, and flipping, and flipping…

An icy hand grabs at his throat. Frowning, he slowly flips back.

The frozen feeling persists when he starts reading. 4 years ago, mission in Austria. Exposure to thermite explosion, 3 fingers missing and loss of motor function to his left leg. 11 months ago, C4 accident, right ear, eye, and majority of throat missing. 2 years ago, grenade explosion, massive damage to liver and stomach.

Combing through all records, Ghost took a moment to realize no medical procedure was noted. Which means Soap didn’t receive any.

He shut the folder.

Something different from the freezing horror he initially felt started rising within him. It was rage.

The personal folder gets thrown aside, and Ghost focuses on the mission report. Right. Perhaps this will shed more light on what Soap is capable of, because honestly right now he can’t bare thinking about how much damage the Sergeant suffered through any longer.

The report is well-written, as any soldier of Soap’s rank would be. Ghost enjoys seeing just how competent Soap was, clearing rooms at neck breaking speed. What catches his eyes is the reason the explosion at the warehouse happened.

He never did get an answer to that…

As it turns out, Soap did get spotted. But according to the report, it wasn’t a hostile that activated the explosive. No, Soap himself did that. The reason given is “estimated risk to Bravo 0-7”.

…Soap thought he was in danger?

Ghost racks his brain trying to understand why. Did he think Ghost didn’t clear the third floor yet? Did he think… they were going to alert backup?

And he decides to… blow himself up.

He hastily signs the document and grabs both folders. So much information, missing, blacked out, red tape stopping him from understanding. Ghost has long learned that he won’t, can’t understand everything, orders from higher up not to be questioned. But it has never bothered him more. 

Never left this feeling of missing out.

When Ghost reaches Price’s office, the light is on and a lingering smell of cigars wafts even through the closed door. Shit. He’ll have to explain how the amount of folders he took suddenly multiplied.

“Weird how that happens, doesn't it Ghost?” Price shouts from beyond the door.

Bloody hell his stupid mind reading powers can be a real pain in the-

“You better not finish that thought Lieutenant!” 

Sighing, Ghost finally opens the door. “I thought you’re on break, Captain”, he places the folders on his desk.

Price glares at the two folders before he looks back at him, eyebrow raised, “clearly”.

Ghost glares back. Not like he has anything to say to his defence.

Price breaks the tension with a little huff, “You know you could’ve just asked for the file, right? I could tell the Sergeant left an impression on you.” he laughs.

Not needing the Captain to mock him further, he bites back “report’s signed, permission to be dismissed?”

Price smirks and dismisses him. Ghost doesn’t miss the thought that leaked from him, “told you, you two would get along.”

He walks away before Price could read his own.

Smoking becomes less intimidating after you die once. Honestly, if it comes to the point he dies from lung cancer, he’ll be happy.

He’ll take that little comfort either way. Watching the smoke dissipate to the night sky, a handful of stars shining through. Little droplets of rain drizzle on the tin roof above him. It’s almost peaceful. 

Almost. If only he couldn’t hear Gaz complaining from the floor above him.

“Look, he’s doing it again.” the recruit next to him makes a questioning sound, “Ghost, he’s bloody brooding. I swear, he’s been like this even since that mission with the revenant, what’s his name…”

The recruit mumbles something, “right! MacTavish. I’ll pay a good amount to know what happened with him… you think-”

Ghost slams a fist at the tin roof, “I can fuckin’ hear ya Garrick!”.

“Good! Tell me what happened there!”

He throws the cigarette and stomps it. Can’t get a moment of silence around here…

Gaz still tries to interrogate him while Ghost walks back to his room. He would talk to him when he feels like it, kindly suggest to never bring up that mission again. 

Ghost doesn’t need more things to remind him of the Sergeant.

Sometimes he wonders if he ever was as bad as these rookies. Watching one trip on thin air, taking down 3 others poor sods trying to complete a run, he rather believe he wasn’t.

He approaches the 4 idiots, who are now literally shaking while craning their neck to look at their lieutenant. “Well, what are you waiting for? Get up!”.

The rookies finally pull their heads out of their arse and scramble up. While they try to get back on track, he shouts, “five more laps for you four! Get a move on!”.

The ones that finished the training murmur behind him something that sounds like a long list of expletives, maybe about wishing his mother got an abortion or the likes. 

Ghost couldn’t care less. But, for the sake of discipline, he throws a scowl at the group, shutting them instantly. 

It’s on days like these, where Gaz is away on mission, and Price buried under mountains of paperwork, that Ghost’s thoughts wander back to that mission six months ago. To a certain Scottish Sergeant, to daft jokes and a weird shared understanding. Fingers flickering with flames, blue eyes shining with them.

Useless thoughts. All they do is leave a bitter trail behind them.

On days like these, he can’t help but crave bitterness. 

The recruits finally finish their run, and Ghost dismisses them before they can cause more trouble, effectively declaring it “not his problem”. He should be more grateful of Garrick, he’s much better at handling the FNGs.

As he makes his way to the showers, one Private stops him. He looks familiar, but Ghost doesn’t bother learning any of their names.

“Captain Price orders you to his office.” the Private almost sneers at him. Ghost nods and walks away. 

Once, a long time ago, he might’ve put the Private in his place, perhaps when he cared more. Now he knows better. His powers speak loud and clear. If he wished, he could wipe the entire base off the face of this godforsaken earth. It might be because of this fact, most soldiers abhor him.

They can’t help hating what they don’t understand.

Three well practiced knocks and a “come in!”, Ghost stands in front of the Captain. Price looks surprisingly chipper for the amount of files on his desk. That makes one of them.

“To what do I owe the occasion, Captain?”

Price flashes a warm smile (one he would call fatherly if the connotation didn’t want to make him want to puke) “I’m considering adding a new member to the 141”.

His first reaction is ‘fuck no’, and Price’s face sours at that. But Ghost is willing to entertain the Captain, so he asks, “you got any candidates?”.

Price motions to the dozen or so files on his desk, “take a look”.

Ghost raises an eyebrow before sitting down and taking one at random. Sergeant Thomas Anderson, 28. Revenant powers… “Breathing underwater? Really.” Ghost shuts the folder and glances at Price, “I’ll take him when we go on a bust against ultranationalists from Atlantis”.

“Not everyone is as deadly as you, Simon” Price sighs, “go on, check the others.”

Several files later Ghost is left wondering how many practically useless revenants are out there. He’s sure just thinking this is considered some sort of blasphemy among Reapers, but as he wasn’t struck down by an eldritch being yet, it’s safe to say he’s free to continue looking down at them.

He knows deep down it’s not their powers that bother him. Hell, Garrick’s Gravity manipulation isn’t that lethal, but the Sergeant knows how to effectively use it to his advantage.

Ghost simply can’t see himself working with any of them. He understands they’re in desperate need for more taskforce members, no matter how strong its three revenants are, but if they’re about to add a forth, he better be useful.

Scouring the table, Ghost realizes he went through all folders already. Price picks up on that.

“None of them up to your standard?”

Ghost crosses his arms, “not in the slightest”.

He spots a personal file on a cabinet on Price’s left, “what’s with that one?” he nods towards it.

Price turns his head, “ah, he’s currently on a long term assignment. Higher ups aren’t gonna let that one transfer so easily.”

Ghost’s interest was piqued, and he leaned to grab it. Price didn’t stop him, but he had a weird glint in his eyes. Ghost gets the feeling this outcome wasn’t unplanned.

He opens the folder and a pair of familiar blue eyes stare back. He looks up at Price.

The captain tilts his head, “well? In terms of strength, no one gets close to MacTavish. I’d dare say you and him could be evenly matched-”

“I’ll take him.”

Price falters, “what?”

“I’ll accept a new member if it was Soap.” Ghost states, leaving no room for argument. A bubbling feeling of excitement washes through him, in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time. The mountains of questions Soap left behind him come back to the forefront of his mind. 

And he feels… hopeful.

Price shakes the surprise off his features, and he looks tiredly at the file, “...I can’t promise any miracles, but I’ll do my best to get him.” He takes out a well deserved cigar, “I trust your judgment.”

“Thank you Captain”, the words don’t encapsulate just how grateful Ghost is.

“Now scram, I have about 50 calls to make.” Price waves his hand and picks up the phone. Ghost makes his exit before the Captain changes his mind.

Garrick returns from his assignment the following morning. The reason Ghost knows that is he watches the door to mess being slammed open while he tries to drink his morning tea.

“GHOST!” Gaz shouts, swiveling his head side to side, searching for him. Sometimes Ghost wishes he could actually go invisible like some rumors suggest.

But alas, he finds him quickly enough, and rushes to his table, uncaring of the several heads following his actions. 

“Garrick” Ghost greets him, “how was the missio-”.

“We’re getting a new 141 member?!” Gaz cut him off, the excitement in his voice palpable, and he visibly starts floating a few inches off ground. Ghost tries to be annoyed with him, but he always found Gaz’s more energetic approach to life endearing.

“Nothing’s final yet, settle down.”

“But you know who it is, right?” Gaz sits in the chair in front of him, “c’mon, you gotta tell me!”

Ghost considers lying and saying he has no clue either, but he figures he might as well rip the band-aid now.

“It’s Sergeant MacTavish.” he tries to sound bored.

By the mischievous look on Garrick, he knows he failed miserably, “ohoho Ghost… Did you suggest your mysterious Sergeant to Price?” he grins like the menace he is, “seems like you won’t be able to hide what happened on ‘The Mission’ for much longer-”

Ghost slams his mug on the table, “nothing to hide, Sergeant.”

But Gaz is already 3 steps ahead in his brain, “I’ve heard he can create explosions, you think he could shoot up like a rocket? Could work well with my powers…”

Ghost stands up and groans, “he’s not a bloody spaceship Gaz, fuckin’ hell…”

He has a feeling Garrick and MacTavish will get along just fine.

The following days are… weird. Ghost never waited in anticipation for something as impatiently as he does right now. The clock seems to tick at a snail’s pace, and he finds his focus impaired. Thank his Reaper he’s not on a mission right about now…

Price is practically living in his office, constantly making calls and going through document after document. From what he understands, Soap is highly sought after for his explosion immunity, the best defuser there is.

Ghost is bitterly reminded of the huge pile of medical records in his personal file. That taste he rather not chase.

As for Gaz… His excitement grows by the day. It reminds Ghost that while the Sergeant is very friendly and always finds someone to talk to, he’s also one of the very few revenants on base.

He wonders if it feels as alienating as it does for him from time to time.

It’s not for 2 weeks later that he and Gaz are summoned to Price’s office. The place reeks of cigar smoke, and Price himself looks like he’s in need of at least 24 hours of sleep. But a triumphant attitude emanates from him in waves, and Ghost knows before he even opens his mouth what he’s about to say.

“It wasn’t easy, and I had to use every connection I had up there, but I got great news for you lads.”

Gaz smiles brightly, and turns his head to look at Ghost.

“I can finally say Sergeant Soap MacTavish is officially a member of the 141”.

Garrick cheers and floats high enough that Ghost has to drag him down before he slams his head against the ceiling, and sees the Captain’s expression shift.

“But…” Ghost starts for him. Of course this wouldn’t be this simple, nothing ever is.

Price exhales loudly, “Soap still has a couple of unfinished missions he will need to attend before he can join us fully.”

Gaz finally picks up on the mood shift, ‘...he will still be with us on base though, right?”

“Yes”, the Captain scratches under his iconic hat, and not for the first time Ghost wonders if it’s glued on with the way it refuses to fall off, “he will train with us, so take those few weeks as an opportunity to learn to work together. He’s quite powerful, and I think you will find… creative ways to work together.” with that last sentence, he glances at Ghost. Curious.

“When will the Sergeant arrive?” Ghost asks.

Price takes a quick look at the calendar, “3 days, early morning.”

That sends Garrick on a marathon of questions to Price, and Ghost retreats to into his mind.

3 days… 3 days and he will see those flames dance again. That Scottish lilt and crooked smile. 

Ghost feels his mouth stretch in a hesitant smile, as if the muscles almost forgot the movement, and notices Price mirroring it.

Perhaps he could give a chance to hope.

Thank you all for reading and commenting! I appreciate it a lot <3