#these two have been in my brain unstoppably

[eybefioro]

HAPPY HOLIDAYS @ghostsparrow 💛💛💛

The TNAN server hosted a secret santa, and Sparrow said he love pirates AUs and space AUs. I immediately thought about treasure planet, so here it is <3 thank you @captainblou for organising it!!!

Wacky races - fairly odd parents - powerpuff girls - scooby doo - adventure time - Cowardly dog - JJBA

(Time-lapse and ramblings under the cut)

Extra long Time-lapse this time as a THREAT.

I remember NOTHING about Treasure Planet's plot, but the ✨️Aesthetics✨️ are seared in my brain forever. I mean-

HOW COOL IS THAT. I love this retrofuturistic(?) Style, the mix between robots and cyborgs and SPACE with uniforms and SHIPS. It's just soooooo good.

I didn't really followed 100% this Disney style, more the idea of it. I've been trying to find my footing and draw stuff without replicating each stylistic choice. Idk if I succeed or not but it was fun!

One thing about this is that even if it's not perceptible here, the perspective is a bit huh... different. I had to figure it out by trial and error, and this end up having 4 focal points.

(Sorry this prob doesn't make that much sense but it was the only way for me to show it lol)

DO YOU SEE THOSE NICE RED AND GREY LINES?? I learned how to use rulers on ibispaint and NOW I AM UNSTOPPABLE. I know how to draw perspective by hand, on paper, but on my phone it was impossible. The screen is too small, and the precision too crappy since I don't have a proper pen. But now with this thing I can assure the line is straight and that direction is right, and now I can do nice perspectives hell yes!

This drawing I did of muriel and Eric is were I was testing stuff out. The rulers, the perspective, the not copying any style thing.

I'm not super satisfied with the end result of this perspective here, bc I wanted to make something more warped, more dynamic/stretched but I really don't know how to do that yet so simple perspective it is lol

This drawing was also supposed to accompany a fic, but it took me too long to do this, so I didn't had the time to write it. Maybe one day...

Now with details that I liked:

STAR FRECKLES THAT FLOAT OVER CROWLEY'S FACE! Also he needs sunscreen. Have tou seen his thighs? LMAO

The rendering g on Aziraphale’s clothes! Especially the trousers. I think this might be my best clothes that I painted so far. I'm getting better at this :D I was inspired by Aziraphale’s bastille and Edinburgh looks, + Mr Fell magician cape (and also the uniforms from treasure planet). I hope it looks OK in the end, I had too much fun mixing all this together lol

Earth colonised by two opposing forces. I spent too long playing with this concept and how to draw it lol I hope it looks nice!

[emberglowfox]

somewhere gentle

[oh-cramity-its-amity]

its so weird to read some of my old fics (do NOT do it but i'm just being hypothetical rn) and reading it. like who even was this person?? i completely was in a haze back in 2020. i literally was posting 3 chapters a day. A DAY. what in the WORLD was that shit.

anyway i remembered some STUPID sappy shit and i didnt remember if i'd put it into a fic or not BUT I FOUND IT.

She and Hope had been dating in secret for months anyway, and any attempt to go talk to Ryan only filed her disposition of displeasure upon knowing that she couldn’t tell anyone, Molly especially, it destroyed herself mentally. They couldn’t really go anywhere near the school, always having to lie to everyone about having projects together when Molly wasn’t around them. It’d consisted with 9 PM - 2 AM intervals of being able to actually see each other. Hope would sneak through her small bedroom window with a portable record player and whatever she had gotten from the vintage record store downtown, and Amy would always fall asleep around eleven because of her internal clock. She would always wake up to find a single sticky note stuck on the edge of her desk whenever she woke up to her alarm the next morning. One of them, Amy still had tucked inside of her phone case, a heavily detailed human heart, with blue and red ink sketched onto a neon pink sticky note, there was a caption that headed the small paper reading the phrase over every now and again makes her almost melt every time. “You have my heart.”

yeah idk why the fuck but i thought of this fucking idea again today and i was like "omg did i ever put that heart note thing in a fic???" yeah you fucking did.

all that to say ME AND WHO???? imagine. thats so fucking.... RAHHHH.

[scoonsalicious]

Unstoppable

Pairing: Bucky x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Bucky have bee having a LOT of sex. It's annoyed some people.

Warnings: Language, adult themes, mentions of sex.

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Just a stupid cute little drabble I came up with. Enjoy!

A cool vibranium fingertip traced the outline of your lips, along the meridian of your chin and neck, between the valley of your breasts, down to your navel and back again, leaving a trail of tingles along your skin. 

“Never gonna get tired of this view,” Bucky hummed. He was propped up on his flesh elbow, looking down on you with warm, sultry eyes.

He had just finished fucking you so well and so thoroughly on the living room rug that all you could do was sigh contentedly and smile up at him. Using what little strength you had left in you, you reached up to cup his stubbled jaw. Bucky leaned into your touch, pressing his lips to the pad of your thumb as you ran it over his plush lips.

His hair was a mess, locks going in every direction from where you had fisted your hands in it, pulling it as he had thrusted you into oblivion. In your eyes, he could never look better than he did right after he had cum inside of you.

And lately, that had been pretty much constantly. After China, he made good on his request to Tony for some time off, and the two of you had been doing your absolute damnedest to make up for all your lost time.

“You’re so pretty after you fuck,” you told him, your mouth letting out words long before your brain could determine if it was a good idea to say them. 

Bucky dropped his chin to his chest and let out a low laugh. “Thanks, sweets,” he said, leaning down to kiss you softly. “So are you. Always thought you were the prettiest thing I’d ever seen, from the moment I first saw you.”

“The very first moment you saw me?” you asked him with a smile. “Cause I’m pretty sure I had a gun pointed at you the very first time.”

Bucky chuckled as he lowered himself down to lay next to you, his forehead pressed against your temple. “Honestly, I wondered if you even remembered that. We never talked about it.”

“Well, if it helps, had I known you gave such good dick, I never would have pulled the trigger.” 

Bucky laughed and wrapped his forearm across your breasts, pulling you closer to him. “You should have seen yourself, doll. Up on the ramp of that jet, standing up to two super soldiers all by your lonesome? You were a vision; it was hot as fuck.”

You rolled your eyes and swatted at his arm. “Sure it was, Buck.”

He squeezed you lightly. “I’m serious, Pocket. You were out-muscled and out-numbered, but you held your ground, and you were sassy as fuck to Steve in the process.”

“Yeah, and got rendered unconscious for my efforts,” you said with a sad smile, remembering how Steve had knocked you out so he and Bucky could steal the Quinjet. “It all worked out, though, in the end,” you added as you snuggled up against him. “It brought us to right now, so I’m thankful for it.”

You felt the firm press of Bucky’s lips to your temple. “So thankful,” he agreed. “Though, if I could go back and change things…”

“I wouldn’t,” you interjected. You turned onto your side to look him in the eye. “If there was even the slightest chance that we wouldn’t end up here, right now, just like this, I wouldn’t change a thing.”

He smiled a lopsided, boyish grin at you that managed to light a fire in your core, and you reflexively rolled your hips against him. “Again, doll?” he asked with a laugh. “We’ve already been going at it for hours, but if you insist. We’ve got time before we have to go to dinner.”

“Shit!” You bolted upright and checked the time. You were scheduled to have dinner with Tony and Pepper in a little over an hour; there was no time to get caught up in another round of ‘What the ‘F’ Was It?’ with Bucky. “We need showers,” you told him as you rose to stand. Turning, you reached down a hand to help him up. “We probably stink of sex.” 

“I love it when we stink of sex,” Bucky said with a laugh as he followed you up the stairs to your master bedroom. “I like to think of it as a souvenir of time well spent.”

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, Buck,” you said with a playful roll of your eyes, “other people don’t want to smell it on us.” You moved to your closet and began pulling out clothes to wear to dinner.

Bucky came up behind you, wrapping his hands around your waist. “We could shower together, you know,” he said, kissing your shoulder. “Save time and water. Very economical of us.”

Ugh, the man was a menace! “You know very well,” you began as you slid out of his grasp and put some safe distance between the two of you, “that if we do that, we are just going to fuck in there, and we’ll be late for dinner.” It wasn’t a theoretical concern of yours; you’d learned the hard way long ago, and after getting reamed out by Tony and Steve Rogers in front of the entire team for missing an important mission briefing, the rule ‘no shared showers if we have somewhere to be' had to be established.

You went first, seeing as it would take you longer to get ready than it would Bucky, but you were in and out in almost no time, putting on your silk robe as Bucky moved to get in. 

“Last chance to join me,” he said with a teasing wink. 

“Go clean yourself off, you filthy beast,” you laughed, playfully shoving him into the bathroom. 

He’d just started the water when you heard the unfamiliar sound of your doorbell ringing.

You padded down the steps, curiosity getting the better of you. Most of the people who visited you had the code for the private elevator and would bypass the door all together. Standing on your toes, you looked through the peephole. On the other side, rocking back and forth on the heels of their feet, stood an attractive, but anxious looking, young woman with thick, light brown hair. You’d probably put her at a handful of years younger than you, if you had to guess. 

She didn’t look like a potential threat, but you could never be too careful. “Who is it?” you called through the door.

“Um…” the woman said uncertainly, “my name’s Caity Wallace? I live in the apartment below you?”

Like a puzzle piece slotting into place, you were hit with a jolt of recognition; you’d briefly met her in the lobby around the time you’d first moved in. Opening the door, you smiled warmly. “Caity, hi. What can I do for you?”

She eyed your robe and quirked an eyebrow. “Listen,” she said anxiously, “I really didn’t want to do this, but I kinda feel like you’re not leaving me a choice anymore.”

You stared back at her, puzzlement written all over your face. “A choice in what?” you asked hesitantly.

“Could you… fuck, this is so embarrassing, but could you, I dunno, maybe… not have such… loud… sex… so often?” At the astonished look on your face, she hurried to add, “I mean, I think it’s great that you’re so… liberated, with all your guys, I’m definitely not trying to slut shame you or anything, it’s just… well, I can hear the furniture banging across the floor, and you scream a lot, and–”

“Wait,” you said, caught by something she’d said. “What do you mean ‘all my guys’? There’s just one it guy.”

Caity’s eyes got comically wide. “WHA–I mean… how?! I mean, no offense, but you’re always going at it. There’s no way one guy’s got that much stamina. To be honest, at first I thought you were filming porn up here or something.”

You ducked your head to hide your laugh. “It’s just the two of us,” you assured her. “My boyfriend and I were apart for a long time, so I guess we’re kind of in a honeymoon phase?”

Caity nodded, her eyes wide.

A floorboard squeaked somewhere behind you, and you turned to see Bucky, making his way across the living room, fresh from his shower, in only a towel. “Forgot my phone, sweets,” he said with that gorgeous lopsided grin. He noticed Caity in the doorway and froze like a deer caught in headlights.

“Oh, shit!’ he muttered, ducking himself behind a pillar and out of Caity’s line of sight. He popped his head out from around the corner. “Everything alright?”

It was cute how modest he became in the presence of another person. “Yeah, baby,” you told him. “Just a visit from our downstairs neighbor, Caity. You wanna come say hello?” You smirked as he shifted uncomfortably and scowled at you.

“Maybe another time,” he said, giving you a glare at your mischievousness and an apologetic wave to Caity. “When I’m actually wearing pants. You gonna be long?”

You smiled at him. “Nah, baby. I’ll be up in a minute.” He nodded and winked at you before turning away.

Turning back to Caity, you were amused to see her eyes following Bucky as he retreated back up the stairs, her mouth slightly agape.

“I’ll make sure we tone it down from now on,” you assured her. Caity shook her head, as if you’d just snapped her out of a trance. “What?” she said, her attention now back to you. “Oh my god, girl, no. I’ll invest in some noise cancelling headphones. Get it. Get it as much as you want. As much as you can. That man’s a fucking god.”

[inbabylontheywept]

if you are my fav tumblr account, who else should i follow? any suggestions? maybe your other followers can chime in too.

oh. that's very sweet. i've been told i have a lot of overlap with @foldingfittedsheets. she does art too, i just rec her in general. if you like me for my poignance, shes like that too, plus she can draw. @gallusrostromegalus is another storyteller, and they've been at it quite a while longer than me. absolutely massive archive of stories. top quality and top quantity. i'm in awe of the quantity - some days i feel like i'm scraping the bottom of my bucket and they just keeps going, and going, and going, and going. they are kind of unstoppable. @derinthescarletpescatarian did hfy and was frankly quite a bit better at it than i ever was. if you like my fiction. they have several books too that i've seen people go feral over. on my to-read-list after i finish my cormac mccarthy binge. god help me. or stop me. they also do life update stories that kind of fit into my niche.

there's @lizardho, who is my sister, and frankly has a similar storytelling and speaking style to me. we grew up just 14 months apart. she doesn't write as much as i do, she just got out of grad school and which consumed basically all of her mental and emotional energy for the last couple years (ive only really been writing for around... 4 years? and basically started as soon as school stopped kicking my ass) but when she does you'll go ah, yeah, family resemblance here. case in point.

@miseria-fortes-viros is more fandom focused than me, but if you read me specifically for my random emotional kicks to your stomach, she is fantastic at that and she occasionally dips into greek works, which is something i've always been interested in. if you liked my odysseus in space story then this and this are gonna burn through your brain like acetone on styrofoam. also she occasionally does life stories and theyre always top notch. you will love this.

those are all my you-will-find-works-like-mine recs. i'm opening it up to the audience if they have anyone they'd like to throw into the ring.

(i'm gonna close with someone whose work isn't actually terribly similar to mine, but i like @letters-from-the-gaps so much i'm gonna give them a rec too. their poem "Bone Saints" is probably my favorite work of theirs. i think about it at least once a week. you can go through their entire body of work in like, maybe a day or two? but it's good. feels like home to me. we both love our sunscorched deserts.)

[save-the-villainous-cat]

“Let me get this right,” the villain said. Their smile was all teeth. “Your plan included an undercover operation in which you tried to infiltrate the supervillain’s facility. You succeeded and started working for them. You hacked into their system, got the information you needed but the supervillain started liking you a little too much. And now you need my help to fake a relationship?”

“Well, if you put it like that, it sounds a bit pathetic,” the hero answered. They were currently sharing a wine bottle with the villain in their office. It had been a long day and the hero wasn’t too keen on even more conflict.

Two weeks ago, the villain had told them that they’d figured out their identity.

That had been alarming. The hero had acted fast, had given the supervillain their resignation.

Unfortunately, the supervillain had basically been on their knees, begging them not to quit. They’d offered them more money, their own office, new tasks, less tasks, less work days, more breaks.

That was pathetic, too.

Even more unfortunately, the hero’s original excuse wasn’t good enough to say no to the supervillain’s offers.

“And I don’t think they’re…in love. They’re either lonely or I’m a pretty good asset,” the hero continued. “Either way, it would be nice to have you as a backup.”

“A backup?”

“Yeah, to be on the safe side. So if they ask me out on a date, I can tell them I’m in a relationship.”

The hero tilted their head. The wine had made them a little dizzy and the villain looked a teeny tiny bit too good right now.

“Believe me, a partner is not an obstacle for the supervillain.” The villain crossed their arms. They looked as exhausted as the hero felt.

Spending that much time around the enemy was…dangerous. The hero found them more and more entertaining. The villain was easy to talk to when they didn’t try to murder them.

“Exactly my thoughts. That’s why I asked you. Do you seriously think the supervillain would risk the stability of their own hierarchy? You’re more than capable to beat them in a fight. And together? We might be unstoppable if we actually started agreeing on a few things.”

“I like how you worded that.” The villain smiled and for a moment, they looked a little lost, as if they were imagining it all already. Their eyes went over the hero a couple of times until they focused on the hero’s. “You flatter me.”

“I’m stating a fact.”

“What’s in it for me, then?” The villain’s voice was deep and calm. As if they were deeply content with the situation.

Their hair was messy. Their eyes half-lidded. God, the hero should’ve said no to the wine.

“If we could somehow eliminate the supervillain, you’d be the next top predator in the food chain,” the hero argued. They shrugged. “If you’re nice, you can keep that position for quite a while.”

“A little corrupt, no?” the villain asked. They were sitting next to the hero on the couch, quite close actually, the hero realised.

Right now, they feared, the villain was their weakness.

“A problem I can deal with later. Right now, the supervillain is part of an illegal organ-selling business and I need to stop them. Stopping you can be my futures self’s problem,” they said and the villain laughed softly as response. They put their arm on the backrest of the couch. Their finger touched the hero’s back slightly but the hero doubted it was intentional. Their brain couldn’t stop thinking about it.

“You’re quite confident, hm?”

“I’ve known you for longer.” The hero leaned in, their face close to the villain’s. “I know your little secrets.”

The villain played along, smiled and their gaze dropped to the hero’s lips.

“Not all of them, dear.” The hero leaned in even closer but the villain’s hand landed on their thigh and squeezed gently. “Before you seduce me, I still have questions.”

The hero pulled back.

“Oh? Haven’t you edged me for long enough now?” Again, the villain laughed before they responded. It was a sweet sound, something the hero needed more of.

“First: why shouldn’t I tell my boss who you are? Us being in a relationship means that you’re in my business.” Their smile was undoubtedly of playful nature. The hero liked a challenge.

“Well, you don’t wanna be a subordinate forever, do you? The supervillain keeps you at their side because they’re afraid of you. You’ll be the new leader if we get rid of them.”

The villain nodded slowly.

“Good. Second: if you want to find out more about them, why aren’t you just dating them?” the villain asked.

That was a little more difficult to answer.

“Uhm, well…They’re not my type.”

The villain raised their eyebrows.

“Oh? Well, that leads me to my last questions already: am I your type? Why did you choose me? There are enough scary villains you can walk around like your dogs but you chose me. Why?”

The hero could only blush. Fuck, the villain could be really direct if they wanted. Along with the flirting and the teasing, the hero was quite aware that the villain wanted a confession, a true explanation as for why the hero had chosen them.

Because, truly, the hero had hoped for an opportunity like this.

And unluckily, the villain had seen right through it.

“Look, this organ-selling thing is really bad.” The villain checked them out yet again. But they didn’t push further. The hero assumed they loved the teasing a little too much.

“Mm. Oh, yes, yeah. I get it, I get it. Don’t worry about it.” This time, the villain leaned in, close enough for them to kiss but they only let the hero’s heartbeat go crazy. “I’ll think about it, hm?”

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Nikolai proposes to Price.

cw: mention of past and present homophobia in Russia and the UK.

The rotor blades hadn't even stopped spinning when Nik clambered out of his cab, his hand fumbling through his pocket in search of that velvet box. The gravel of the broken tarmac scratched under the soles of his boots, his knee grazing through his jeans as it hit the ground.

He'd almost lost John.

Two meters between his head and a steel beam falling from a nearby building as an IED had detonated.

As the smoke had cleared, Nikolai had heard and felt nothing. Like someone had reached through his ribs and pulled his heart and lungs out. John Price had always seemed invincible, unstoppable, like a force of nature. But in those few moments when Nik had believed he had been killed, the reminder of John's mortality had stunned him cold. John was not immortal, not a god or a hurricane, but a human man; vulnerable, killable, and Nik's entire world.

Nik had only started breathing again when his helo had swung round and the downdraft had whisked the cover of smoke and ash away to reveal the captain hunkered down, Ghost's arm thrown across his shoulders, Gaz and Soap guarding the rear.

The lieutenant had regained consciousness on the flight home, his concussion slurring his speech, his arm broken, but he was alive. They were exhausted, slumped against each other as the danger receded and Nik carried them to safety. Soap helped his lieutenant out now, supporting his weight as they staggered over the tarmac with Gaz following, his head low.

It was in the gap between Task Force 141 and their captain that Nik knelt, his shaking hand clutching the box against his knee as the adrenalin caught up on him, his words stuck. He had planned this. A dinner at the nice steakhouse John had seen in town, and then a walk through one of the big parks to the lake where they had spent many a night fishing. There, Nik would have asked. No audience, no public display, just them in the peace.

Their love was private. Not because it was shameful, but because it was theirs. It was a place John could tentatively explore the parts he had buried to survive, and Nik could be himself without apology. They could discard their defences and show each other the soft underbelly they guarded so fiercely from others. The vulnerability, the intimacy that came with it, belonged to them and only them; one of the very few things that did.

But what if he never got the chance? What if John had died today? What if John died tomorrow? Or the next day? What if, what if. There was no waiting for them because there might be no tomorrow. They had to live here, now.

Price dropped onto the tarmac, pushing his M4 behind his back as he looked down with a quizzical expression. "Nik?"

Nik drew in a shaking breath, his gaze lingering in the smear of black ash and crust edging a cut on Price's face. He'd lost his boonie hat in the scramble to rescue his officer, so his scruffy brown hair and beard formed a wild mane around his head, framing those blue eyes that were all the brighter as they shone from the sweat and grime on his skin. Nik started talking without thinking. "Lyobit tebya - eto kak dishat… s toboi bremya ostanablibaetsya e ya shivu lish mnovyeiyami pyadom toboi..."

"I can't speak it that well yet, ya muppet, and my brain was just shook inside my skull like a maraca," John said, his voice gravelly and dry. The corners of his eyes crinkled in wry amusement, and Nik's heart ached. He lifted the box, his thumb sliding beneath the lid, and watched John's expression fade from amusement to shock.

"Ty vyydesh’ za menya?" Nik clenched his teeth, irritated at himself, but before he could open his mouth and find the English, John's hand slid over his and he dropped to his knees.

"What is this, Nik?" John croaked, those beautiful blue eyes that so reminded Nik of a summer sky over Kiev glistened.

"A promise," Nik replied. "A... plea."

John leaned forward and their foreheads met, his fingers tightened over the box and Nik felt the coarse material of John's gloves against his knuckles. His hand shook. He was keeping the ring covered, like it would vanish should he look at it, or believe for a single moment it was real.

They had talked so many times about their experiences as young men. In the early hours of the morning, when scotch and exhaustion had worn down their defences, the rawness and the hurt had surfaced. Nik, who had hidden what he was lest he face a bullet or prison, acknowledging his very existence criminalised even now; John, who had grown under Section 28, made to feel degenerate and filthy, his lack of worth reinforced by a slighted father's retribution.

Never for a moment had those boys dreamed of a happy ever after, and both had fled into the arms of violence and bloodshed to lose themselves. Both had tucked their hearts away and buried their dreams until they existed only as dogs of war; weapons of the states that had failed them.

And now there it was. Represented as a single tungsten ring with a thread of vibrant blue in the metal. Like his eyes, Nik had thought as he had purchased it.

They shared the same quivering breaths, the promise clasped between their palms, and Nik watched as the low light of dawn caught the first tear as it escaped. Those soulful eyes closing as John caught himself. Nik stroked his cheek with his free hand, thumb brushing through the tear track. "You own me, body, heart and soul. I only ask for your hand in return," Nik whispered, so very meek compared to what he had imagined.

John threw himself forward and Nik caught him, wrapping his arms around his back as John's face pressed into his neck. He smelled of char and blood, sweat and pain, and Nik held him as he sought strength and stability. There were injuries beneath the Kevlar and padding of John's body armour, and Nik would care for him tonight no matter his answer. They had lost men today and John would need convincing to rest before he embarked on the sombre task of informing their families.

When John sat back on his heels, he sniffed, wiped his nose and face on the back of his wrist and then uncovered the ring in Nik's palm. "S'nice," he said, soft and boyish despite the gruff rasp of his voice. Nik could see that young boy in John's eyes, still uncertain, still struggling to believe that someone would love him enough to want to spend the rest of their life at his side.

"Da," Nik said, "it suits you, no?"

"I like it."

"I am glad."

John smiled, the lines at his eyes returning and making Nik's heart ache. "So this is for real, then."

"Da."

"For keeps?"

"For keeps," Nik said, running his thumb over the cool metal. He remembered fondly the first time John had asked him that. Many years ago, when they had only really just met, still circling, still probing tentatively lest they reveal their secret to someone who would react badly. He had offered John a cigar and John had stared at it suspiciously before asking the very same, and Nik had been endeared by it even then. Lieutenant Price had been even rougher around the edges than Captain Price. They had already done so much healing together.

John huffed a soft laugh, wiping at his eyes before glancing at the sky, and then back at Nik. "Yeah..." He cleared his throat, another sniff, "Nikolai, I want t'... bloody 'ell," he took a breath, "I want t' marry you. Yes, I... I'm sayin' yes."

Nik barked a laugh of relief and Price echoed it, watching as Nik ran a hand through his hair as his heart settled. John pulled at the velcro of his left glove with his teeth, tugging it off between his thighs so that Nik could slide the ring over his weathered knuckle. He pressed a kiss to John's open palm, nuzzling his face to it with a contented sigh.

John leaned to the side to see Soap and Gaz gasping at them from the edge of the tarmac. Ghost was, of course, unreadable, but Nik had already talked to him about his intention. Who did you ask for a man's hand in marriage when his father was unavailable? The loyal lieutenant that had fought at his side through the worst the world had to offer, of course. "The whole base will know by lunch," John muttered.

"Da. I... I am sorry. I could not wait any longer. For a while there, I thought I had watched you die."

John lifted Nik's chin and then gathered his hand to his chest. "Ay, I'm here, aren't I? We got home, we made it. Because of you, Nik."

Nik could only nod. There was no point thinking of next time, not when John knelt before him, battered but alive. "You need a medic."

"I need a shower..."

"Medic," Nik insisted. "And if you are a good boy and don't swear at the nurse, I will shower with you."

"Hmm," John smiled, bashful and soft, "seems a fair exchange."

Nik helped John to his feet. Now that the adrenalin had faded and his men were safe, John was limping, an arm folded across his torso. He submitted to inspection with only a minor grump, and then checked on Ghost, Soap and Gaz. They were sound, as John liked to say. Ghost had to stay the night and Soap remained in the chair at his side, but the nurse was happy John's sprains and cuts were manageable with a little support from Nik.

As they stood in the shower, Nik's lips on John's skin, his arms around his waist to hold his body close, Nik let the hot water disguise the tears running down his face. Happiness, relief; they were as heady and overwhelming as anger and sadness sometimes. Nik let himself feel it, knowing it would leave his mind clear for enjoying John later.

"You solid?" John asked, warm hands stroking down Nik's forearms.

"Never better, solnyshko."

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

💥slams into your room like a ragoll

Some fluff idea for you, with Simon

Simon, who loved discovering new things about you, whether it was the way your eyes crinkled more than other smiles when you were super excited to share something, something you'd hyperfixate on for the next four months or so, or the way your giggles gave you away before you could even tell him the story.

So how about writing this, he leans about the lil nose scrunches you do when he kisses the tip of your nose today…and he starts kissing more all over your face just to find out what else you do at certain places he kiss, sending you into a giggling blushing mess :3

- ya not so suspicious panda 🐼

you better repair my door u evil panda

A whole bag of sugar’s been added into this drabble

Simon Exploring Your Cute Reactions

Simon’s in love with your little reactions, hence discovering new things from you is his daily mission.

Like how you accidentally added salt instead of sugar into your tea yesterday, and stuck your tongue out when the unexpected saltiness hit you.

or how you yelled out his name in a hurried tone, and as he rushed to check if you were alright, it was just you showing him the flower you tried to grow finally had a little bud after countless times of failure.

He sometimes wonders why you have so many different expressions, but he sees this part of you as a treasure chest, providing sparkles of anticipation to his life.

Now Simon sits on the couch, with you sitting on his lap, reading the ‘For Plant Killers: how to keep a plant without needing a brain’ book. He looks at you burying your face in the pages with a serious frown, the urge to kiss you is too difficult for him to resist.

“Oh!” You let out a little squeak as you raise your head from the book, eyes wide with curiosity, like a surprised bunny, his mind notes it as he plants another kiss on the tip of your nose.

“Hey, what you doing?” Your little nose scrunches at the touch, triggering his enjoyment with how cute you’re doing it.

Simon just shakes his head, and continues exploring.

Another kiss lands on your eyelid this time, your feather-like eyelashes flutter as you giggle at the itchy feeling.

“Stop you silly man, what are you doing?” You catch his cheeks between your palms after he gives your temple a kiss that lasts longer.

You’re a blushing mess right now, face inches from his, so he’s able to take a good look at the pink smears across your face, making you more vivid and splendid.

“Researching.” He shrugs.

“Well, now’s my time to do some research.”

The chuckles are unstoppable as you start your revenge, from the brushing of your lips at his jawline, a open mouth kiss on his face, to the light pecks at his freckles.

“Not so composed now, huh?” A devious grin plays on your glossy lips when you take a rest from your attacks, looking at him with joy-glinting eyes.

He knows his face is red like an apple now, he can sense the heat gathering at his cheeks, but in front of you, there’s no need to hide his true emotions. Not to mention, he’s on the cusp of victory, since the ace card for this cheeky game of you two is between his fingers.

“Do you remember to water your plant today?”

“oh shit!” Realization strikes you like lightning. You jump off his lap, leaving Simon a glimpse of your hasty figure as you disappear behind the corner.

Tons of discoveries today, he licks his chops while taking a sip from the lukewarm tea.

What will he find tomorrow? He leans back and taps unconsciously at your book. You’re like a mystery bag, he doesn’t think he’s able to guess what’s inside, but hey, your priceless demeanors are worth spending time exploring, and he’s already looking forward to tomorrow’s investigation.

[archesnalleyways]

Doctor!Coriolanus Snow x Naive!Reader

power imbalance, dubcon, corruption kink

dead dove do not eat

You’d go in for a full checkup, trying to stay ahead of your health. He checked your blood pressure, reflexes, listening to your breathing.

Doctor Snow has a habit of wanting to work in a cold room, and that’s made very evident from the way your nipples are straining against the thin fabric of your dress, creating two pebbles which made eye contact near impossible for him.

And you’d been so quick to follow his every task, looking up with expectant, nervous eyes. Lifting your arms with barely any prompt, twisting your torso for him to roam his stethoscope over your body. And something dark is starting to tug inside of him, something unstoppable.

“You seem nervous, miss” he starts with a voice full of fake concern, “is there any reason for this?”

Your face flushes and you twist your fingers in your lap.

“Oh.. well, um, it’s just my first, real doctors appointment” you mumble.

First. First. The word rings in Coriolanus’ mind. First means clean, first means uncorrupted. He wants to change that.

“I understand your nerves, miss, but there’s no need for them” he answers with a sweet smile, but he can’t hide the sinister glint in his eyes.

He goes over to his desk, ‘checking’ what else there’s left for him to check.

“Next thing I need to check for is for breast cancer” he states in a professional voice, walking back to the examining table where you’re sitting. “So I need you to lay down and, if you’re comfortable, the exam is best done on bare skin.”

Your eyes shoot up at his face but you’re met with a calm, almost knowing, look. In practically a trance your hands move up to unbutton the three buttons over the bust of your dress before pulling the fabric down to reveal your breasts to him.

It takes everything in Snow to not groan, to not ravage you on sight. But he knows that this is a delicate situation and too much desperation from his side will push it to break. So he just motions for you to lay down, which you do, and he places his hands on of your boobs.

“What I’m doing is checking for lumps” he explains in an attempt to prolong the façade that this is completely routine, “just say the word if I’m pushing too hard.”

His fingers start to move over you, digging into the fat of your breast. To his credit he does do a check for breast cancer. And he makes sure to check both of them very thoroughly. But then he can’t help himself from just touching you.

Roaming his hands over your tits, moving them together and then apart. He moves the tips of his fingers to your nipple, moving in tight soft circles.

And you let out a small, small gasp. It’s embarrassing, a professional just doing his work and you’re about to moan. But the pleasure was so overwhelming, so unexpected.

“There’s a lot of nerves in nipples” Dr Snow starts to explain, focusing on keeping his breathing controlled, “it’s important to check to see if there’s proper blood flow.”

He moves his hands so his knuckles are supporting your tits, either thumb on either nipple as he continues playing with them.

Your lips part and there’s a very faint line from your furrowed brows, but it feels so good that it’s hard for you to stop yourself from moaning.

And the sight is making something else hard, Snows eyes flicking between your boobs in his hands to your face mixed between embarrassment and pleasure. He can’t stop his fingers from giving your nipples a slight pinch and tug before moving away from you.

“Now I only have to give you a gynecological check..” he tries to say authoritatively, and turns around to grab gloves, “may I remove your underwear?”

And you’re in such a haze, brain already slightly fried from his fingers, so you just let your head fall in a nod.

He backs his chair down so he’s sitting by your legs, hands moving up your dress to pull down your pretty panties decorated with flowers. He folds the skirt of your dress over to get a better display of you. He feels his cock twitch obnoxiously in his pants at the sight of wetness that’s already pooling in your slit.

The doctor’s hands spreads you apart, forcing down the groan moving its way up his throat, and moves the tip of his middle finger to your hole. He pushes in gently, your self-made lubrication making it almost too easy, and he hears your breath hitch.

And you’re so tight, almost too tight, around just one of his fingers and it’s making his head spin. It also fills with dirty fantasies and the sight of it disappearing into your heat is not helping. After a few pumps he moves to add a second finger, and it’s a little stretch but you take it so well.

He moves his other hand so his thumb can move over your clit, and your teeth push into your bottom lip to stop every moan threatening to spill out.

“This is another very important nerve” he mutters, putting some extra pressure on your clit to clarify what he means.

His eyes move from your pretty pussy to your face, contorted in pleasure and obviously keeping your sounds in.

“It is very normal, and encouraged, to feel pleasure from this exam, miss” Snow explains, like this is protocol, “it is completely fine to.. emit sounds.”

With the blood for his brain drained to his cock he has a hard time keeping up with professional jargon. Even so his words of calming makes you release your lip from your teeth, letting your mouth hang open at first. But then his fingers graze your g-spot and the moan just falls out.

“To.. um, to make sure everything is working properly I need to bring you to orgasm.”

Coriolanus knows he’s pushing it, but your own words are still ringing in his head. It’s your first, how are you supposed to know this isn’t how doctors treat their patients. Plus after hearing your cunt squelch around his fingers he can’t possibly stop now.

So he’s pushing his fingers into you faster, curling them when they’re in the deepest parts of you, his other hand is working idly against your clit.

Your mouth is now, almost, shamelessly emitting all those sounds you swallowed earlier. He looks up at you with dark eyes, seeing how in your haze of pleasure you had not yet buttoned up your dress again, your tits still on display for him.

He feels you start to clench around his fingers after switching from circles over your clit to moving them back and forth, “yeah? That feel good?” He mutters, desperately wanting to feel you clench like that around his cock.

You feel your stomach starts to twist, legs tensed to the point of shaking and your eyes squeezed closed.

“You’re gonna cum, huh?” Snow taunts, moving his fingers impossibly faster.

And a moment later you’re stunned by white hot pleasure, gushing around his fingers. Every sound is muffled like your ears are stuffed with cotton, you can’t even register the words Doctor Snow are saying as he throws away his gloves before helping you button up your dress. He offers his hand to you and passes you your bag, bidding you adieu.

You’re so out of it that you don’t realize that you’re not wearing your panties as you walk out of his office, unaware that they were placed in Doctor Coriolanus Snows back pocket.

[kurokens]

In The Middle | Satosugu

anime/manga: jujutsu kaisen

character: gojo satoru & geto suguru

words: 798

pronouns: they/them

request: none

notes: probably an overused prompt but idc sue me, i needed to write one of my own. im a sucker for misunderstanding. i haven't written anything in such a long time, it's been a while im sorry, satosugu have been on my mind for a while, and i needed to write something with them because i love them so fucking much. it's gonna be a series, so hopefully i dont disappear after one part lol... later on it might be specific on some insecurities bc i need it and i thought well let's just share it with the world and other who might need it. sorry for any mistakes T-T

not proof read

song rec: SHE'S - In The Middle

genre: hurt comfort, fluff, slowburn, a little bit angsty, poly?

warnings: bad english not my first language, satosugu are in a loving relationship, misunderstanding, pinning, a lot of pinning on satosugu's end, reader is so oblivious (is that the right one?), insecure and self conscious reader

You've always told yourself you weren't the type to live with anyone, you liked your quiet and your peace. Alone in your little bubble, without a soul to disturb it. And yet, here you were awoken by your roomates lover quarrel in the room next door, for the hundredth time this week.

"Don't you love me anymore? Am I not enough for you?" a whiny voice whisper-screamed "Satoru, my love, it was a dream, it was all in your head." an exhausted voice replied

"So what?? It doesn't mean anything? Are my feelings not valid?" Gojo huffed.

"How are you so dramatic so early in the morning? Let's go back to sleep come here.", Geto carefully lifted the blanket so his boyfriend could go back exactly where he belonged, asleep and quiet in his arms.

Such occurences weren't new to you, you could even say there were your daily life, that's why you laughed hearing the bickering couple, and turned around in your bed to try and fall back asleep while their muffled voices could still be heard in the background. This was without counting on what part of their conversation your brain decided to pick up on next. "I dont know for how much longer I can do this Sugu.." Satoru sighed. "Me neither love, but there is nothing much we can do about it.They live with us." His black haired lover replied. "I know, ugh I know, but it's getting so much harder everyday. Seeing them is becoming unbearable. I can't stand it anymore, we need to do something." He went on. "Shh, I know, I feel the same. But we can't just drop this on them all of the sudden and expect it to go well." The oldest reasoned.

Your heart shattered on the other side of the wall, now sitting against the headboard, an unstoppable flow of tears falling down your face. You were a bother? You thought the three of you were friends, shit, scratch that, best friends. And yet, yet, this was how they felt about you. Fuck fuck FUCK You needed to calm down, it's okay, you're okay. It must have been a nightmare, yeah that's right, a nightmare. Your brain loved playing tricks on you, waking you up in the middle of the night with the most vivid and realistic nightmares ever, enough to send you into full blown meltdown. Nothing to worry about, it was just a nightmare, nothing else. That's what you told yourself and yet when you woke up you couldnt shake this weird feeling in your stomach. You contemplated staying in your bed all day and avoid your roomates but that would be silly to ignore them for something that was potentially just a dream. So you shook the silly feelings away and got out of your bed, made your way to the kitchen to make some breakfast. Your two roommates were already there, being lovey dovey in each others lap and the weird feeling made its way back into your stomach. "Hi there." You greeted tiredly, only to be met with an echo of short hms, and not even a nod to accompany the cold greeting. The lack of acknowledgment not helping with your already overthinking mind, you decided to take a quick breakfast and just leave them be. It could just be a coincidence, nothing to worry about haha, right? Or so you thought, because you were back in your room mindlessly scrolling through tik tok when you once again hear the muffled voices of your roommates. Your brain screamed at you to put your headphones on and drown out their conversation, but you couldn't get yourself to do it, and you decided to listen to them, to at least finally be able to know whether or not you dreamed what happened last night. And maybe you shouldn't have, but what else could you do now but listen to the cruel words of the ones you once considered your best friends. "Suguru, we need to do it soon. I can't even handle looking at them in the eyes anymore, let alone utter a word to them. We can't keep going like this." Satoru complained. "I know 'Toru, I know, but you need to understand it's not as easy as you think it is." You heard the black haired man answer. And it was enough for you, you needed to get out of there. You obviously were no longer welcomed here, and the sooner you left, the better it would be, for both parties. So inbetween tears you picked up a bag and threw some spare clothes and anything that you could think of in your frenzy state before you ran out of there, determined to never come back, at least not for a while.

here u gooo!! sorry i've been away for a while, i've been finding it hard to write and staying focused, but i missed it so much, especially for these two. i'll try not to take too long to write AT LEAST a second part, but would love to do more than this bc i want it to be extremely slown burn and a little bit angsty krkrkr

part 2 is here!!

[givemea-dam-break]

daughters of the evening

⭒⭒⭒⭒ in which luke’s descent from good may be found.

pairing: luke castellan x (fem) reader

a/n: hey guys!! first fic in a while and i know, i know, pjo book readers are disappointed in me… but i’m just a girl! i’m literally just a girl! please enjoy my brain baby i love her :) i love writing quests so much, so this was really nice to write for my first fic back on tumblr. i hope you guys enjoy! if anybody wants to be added to my pjo taglist, let me know!

warnings: canon typical violence, book spoilers, blood/injury description, rusty writing

words: 5.8K ⭒⭒⭒⭒

(y/n) couldn’t remember when the change in Luke became permanent.

She could remember the hints of something at the corners of his eyes, something that bit at the happiness that filled them, eating away at it like rot on wood. She could remember the slow decline in his respect for his father, respect that had barely been there for years, though was now bridging on outright disrespect.

She could remember the crux of it all, the very moment in which all of the little things began to coalesce into something ugly. A flash of claws, the deep scarlet of mortal blood followed by shimmering gold ichor. The horrible sound of screaming. Gleaming fruits of gold. Gorgeous, blooming green trees towering above them that concealed the violence below.

It was after the quest that Luke, her Luke, was never the same.

⭒⭒

“I don’t remember San Francisco looking like this.”

Luke’s lips curled into a smile. “You’ve never been to San Francisco.”

(y/n) rolled her eyes. “I’ve seen it in movies through which I have lived vicariously. It’s in one of the Indiana Jones’s, right? Looks different.”

“Those movies are from the eighties,” Luke said. “So, yeah, it’s going to look different.”

Charles Beckendorf, their questmate, heaved a sigh. “Do you guys ever stop?”

“Stop what?” (y/n) asked.

“Being annoying? Flirting? Whatever you want to call it.”

Her face felt awfully hot and she found herself unable to even look in Luke’s general direction. It was a comment that had been made many times in the past, one she was sure Luke was sick to death of, but she found herself yearning for comments like it. They meant that maybe she wasn’t dreaming up something between them.

Either way, she didn’t acknowledge it, rather stuffing her hand into her unzipped backpack and scrounging around until finally she found what she wanted. With a dramatic flair, she revealed three paper maps, each embellished with their names written in colourful pen at the top.

A moment of silence, then Luke said, “Why do we need a map each? Can’t we just share? And where did you even get those?”

“I got them back in Salt Lake City, before we happened upon that massive crab, you remember the one? All blue and slimy.” She pressed the maps into their hands. “There are multiple because knowing you both, you’ll lose them and I’m not buying any more. But, look! They’re colour-coded. Green for me because, duh, Demeter. Orange for Beckendorf, red for you. We can at least make this quest for some stupid apples interesting.”

Beckendorf raised a brow, giving her a strange look. “With glittery gel pen?”

“Glittery gel pen makes everything better,” she insisted. “I’m glad you acknowledge that. Now, come on. With all this talking you two have been doing, we don’t have much time to spare. You’re like a pair of gossiping grannies.”

The two shared a look over her head, one they thought she didn’t see, but it only made her hold back a laugh. They were a relatively upbeat group as it was, but she prided herself on keeping the mood light, especially when danger was looming. With the might of glittery gel pens, a travel-size game of Monopoly, and a cheesy puns book they had picked up off the side of the road, they would be unstoppable should their enemies need a good laugh.

It wasn’t that they weren’t capable of what was ahead of them that she felt the need to joke around, it was just her regular nerves. The three of them were experienced and powerful demigods, skilled fighters and strategists, the best of the best. Luke had his immense skill with a sword and the mind of a trickster; Beckendorf had the brains and strength of a blacksmith, and could sense a trap a mile away and disarm it in moments; (y/n) herself was a powerful daughter of Demeter and, though not to the standard of Luke, was also skilled with a sword.

They hadn’t faced much trouble before. They were a tried-and-tested trio, having been on multiple quests together in the past and finding themselves working well together. 

This time, it seemed like a match made by the Fates. A quest ordained by Hermes, Luke’s father, to retrieve the Apples of Immortality from the Garden of the Hesperides - gardens and plants being the domain of Demeter and, by extension, (y/n). And, no doubt, there would be many traps or the need for a strong mind, hence Beckendorf. He was a year or two younger than she and Luke, but had proved himself upon countless occasions. She trusted him with her life.

Almost a week now they’d been on this quest, and still she felt like a giddy child. Almost seventeen and, at her big age, she was holding back smiles and giggles befitting of a schoolgirl with a crush. Part of it was gratefulness that a demigod such as Luke had chosen her to join him on this quest, even after being friends for years and having gone on numerous quests together already. Part of it was simply that she was madly in love with the boy.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, then, watching the way the afternoon sun gleamed on his face, setting his dark eyes alight with flame. There was a curious smile on his lips, one that concealed mischief and intelligence; one she had loved for as long as she could remember. His hair was messy after days of travelling and not bothering to fuss with it - she dreaded to think of what her own looked like, the only mirror she had being her sword - but there was something so extremely endearing about it. Wild curls that gave his lightly-freckled face even more life.

Their maps didn’t help their hunt for the Garden an awful lot. For what had to have been at least two hours, they stumbled around the city, turning this way and that, earning odd looks from strangers. 

“For being the son of the god of travellers,” (y/n) said, “you are horrendous at reading a map.”

Luke gave her a nudge with his elbow as he scanned the map. He was grinning. Her stomach was doing cartwheels. “Maps make sense enough, but I think these ones are out of date.”

“Maps don’t go out of date, stupid.”

Beckendorf was holding back a smile. “I think he’s right. I think our maps are too old.”

(y/n) glowered at them, plucking their maps from their hands. Fine. They didn’t deserve to hold maps graced with her glittery gel pens anyways.

“Well,” she said. “Unless either of you have any ideas, we’re going to be stuck wandering for hours. Come on, Luke. Use your magicky journey powers. They got us this far.”

His eyes shone, and her knees felt a little weak. She loved it when he looked at her like that, when she had said something funny. It was as though the heavens themselves had descended and flooded his face with light and beauty. She couldn’t look away.

“It’s a big garden,” he retorted. “Find the big garden, daughter of the mighty Demeter!”

She knew he meant it as a joke - the sarcasm was practically dripping from his voice - but there was something in his tone that she couldn’t identify. Something deeper than a simple sarcastic comment. This had been a pity quest, of sorts, she knew. Luke had been getting restless and his father had wanted to satiate him, but it wasn’t enough. He was displeased with the gods, to say the least.

But he kept a good lock on his expressions, on his words. She wouldn’t have suspected a thing had she not known him as well as she knew the feeling of grass beneath her feet.

Eventually, combining their powers and the single brain cell that seemed to be taken by Beckendorf, they found their way to the Mount Tamalpais State Park, which was not open to visitors now that the sun was setting.

They stared up at the distant mountain, the sloping greenland and towering trees that led towards it, and heaved a synonymous groan. Quests could never be even slightly easy, it seemed. Why would the gods let them head to a random park in the city when they could have them trespassing in a state park at night, lives in the hands of the monsters and animals alike that roamed the woods? The gods would rather have them arrested than have something be easy.

“You’re kidding, right?” Beckendorf said. “We don’t have to walk all that way?”

(y/n) frowned. She wished more than anything that they could just turn around and leave, a feeling she did not often get on quests. But something didn’t feel right. There was a twist in her gut, a deep intuition that told her something was going to go wrong.

But her gut was also pulling her towards the mountain. There was a power there, unlike any she had felt before, and she wanted to know what it was. 

“We’ll be fine,” she insisted, though she didn’t feel entirely sure herself.

She was the first to make the step towards their darkening fates. If she had known the outcome, she would have turned and fled immediately.

The three of them trudged up the path, flicking on torches when the sky grew darker and the ground in front of them too hard to see. It gave them an eerie glow, entirely unlike the warm glow of their weapons. All of their features were in stark contrast to the dark surroundings; Luke’s cheekbones, Beckendorf’s eyes, her brownbone. It was disconcerting, and it felt all too much like they were the lead characters in a ghost story.

She was considering turning back about halfway there. The tug in her gut was becoming stronger, almost unbearable, and her head was pounding, filled with the worry of the possible incidents that had not happened yet. 

The only thing that kept her going was Luke’s pinky finger wrapped around hers.

Maybe he felt her nerves, so acute that she feared her sinews and tendons and bones could snap at any moment. But Luke knew her. He had known her since they were barely teenagers. He knew her better than she knew herself: every habit she had; every face she made; every hint of a feeling before she knew it was coming. He had some deep understanding of her, one that would have made her feel vulnerable in any other situation with any other person. Luke was not any other person.

His pinky was wrapped around hers tightly, warmer than the rest of her body put together. It curled around hers just so, acknowledging her worry. His jacket sleeve brushed hers.

It wasn’t until they reached the Garden at the foot of the mountain that his hand wrapped around hers fully, encasing it entirely in warmth and comfort. His palms were calloused, fingers ribbed with light scars, but she could not imagine it any other way.

The Garden of the Hesperides was easily the most beautiful place she had ever seen and was likely the most beautiful place she would ever see. Stars hung above them in the night sky, glittering so brightly it was as though they could reach out and touch them with their outstretched fingers. Lush green grass coated the ground beneath their feet and beyond, speckled with flowers so bright they almost glowed in the dark. It was bristling with life, so full of it that (y/n) could feel it all deep in her bones.

But the source of the power lay further afield.

A tree, much taller than the rest, stood at the centre of the garden, boasting more golden apples than (y/n) could count. Its branches swayed in the faint breeze in mesmerising swoops, and the scent of fresh fruit laced with something that could only be described as addictive brushed over them. A faint mist swirled around the trunk of the tree, glittering slightly in the moonlight.

“Holy Hephaestus,” Beckendorf murmured, slack-jawed.

“That’s one big tree,” Luke said. 

“You certainly have a way with words,” (y/n) said.

His hand only squeezed hers in response. She could feel his heartbeat in his wrist. How was it so steady?

There was a shift in the wind, then, and a soft bite came into the air. Goosebumps prickled the skin of their arms, raising the hair there. She wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, but she swore she could hear the faintest lull of singing voices and could feel the weight of some large presence in the air. Nothing could be seen but the beautiful garden and the decadent tree in the centre.

“Luke Castellan,” said a soft voice. Luke visibly tensed, eyes narrowing at the usage of his surname. “(y/n) (l/n). Charles Beckendorf. We have been expecting you in our Garden for quite some time now.”

The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once. But, finally, after a few moments, the speaker emerged from the fine mist.

She didn’t look like much, appearing to be barely older than (y/n), but there was something about her surrounding aura that suggested she was much, much older. Dark, inky hair tumbled over narrow tawny shoulders, framing even darker eyes that shone with unknown magic. The woman seemed to blink slowly, as if bored or tired, and it looked as though she were merely floating over the ground rather than walking. It was hard to tell. Her Greek chiton covered her feet.

“We are the Hesperides,” she said, voice ever gentle, as four more women appeared, each almost identical in appearance. “Daughters of the Evening. Nymphs of the Sunset. Protectors of this Garden. What is your business here?”

There was a cockiness to Luke’s smile then, one that had (y/n) on edge. “If you’ve been expecting us, then surely you know our business.”

The lead Hesperide drew nearer, stopping a few feet away from their trio. Her sisters gathered at her sides, dark eyes sparkling with stars and cold curiosity and something overtly bitter. The demigods were clearly unwelcome here, but they intended to make a game of their quest.

(y/n)’s hand squeezed Luke’s in warning. He spared her a glance, her heart drawing still when his warm eyes met hers. His chin dipped slightly in a nod, and he gave her hand a squeeze before turning his attention back to the Hesperides.

“We’ve been sent here on a quest by my father Hermes,” Luke announced. His voice held more confidence than she felt. “We’re here to retrieve a golden apple.”

It was strange watching the Hesperides’ heads tilt in unison as if they were each an extension of the other. Voices lulled around them, soft and gentle, and the worry seeped from her very bones. Her hand fell from Luke’s. Something felt strangely at ease in her stomach despite their circumstances.

“You may try,” said the lead Hesperide. Her skin glimmered like marble in the moonlight. “Our dearest Ladon protects this tree with his life. He does not sleep. Every second of every day, he guards our gift from Gaea, the goddess Hera’s wedding gift. Do not think it will be easy to pass him.”

The Hesperides seemed to fade into the mist, then, their bodies becoming light and transparent as they slowly backed away until nothing was left but the faint singing swirling around them. The voices gave (y/n) a strange feeling, as though pulling her towards the tree.

“Who’s Ladon?” Beckendorf asked.

The three of them stood for a moment, watching the swirling mist.

“A dragon,” (y/n) said. “A big dragon.”

She could feel his presence, she realised. The heavy weight that had settled over them upon entering the Garden, it couldn’t be anything else. Even still, she could feel him through the ground, like an impending sense of death and doom. She’d had similar feelings before, an innate knowledge that the strawberry fields were close to wilting one year. Campers had called her crazy, but she knew. The earth knew.

And it knew now. She was horribly aware of the heaviness in her gut that surrounded the bright power of the apple tree. It could be nothing but Ladon.

“Any ideas, Luke?” she asked. “You’re our idea guy.”

He scoffed. “Since when? You’ve been dragging us around by our ears this entire quest.”

But he could see the nerves that she felt. He knew how strange this was for her, to feel so deeply worried about a quest. He knew something was wrong.

“I’ll get the apple,” he said, and his shoulders rose with confidence. His hand, the one that had held (y/n)’s moments ago, twitched just so. “I’m the fastest out of the three of us. You two, keep our friend distracted.”

There was a deep grumble at that moment, as if Ladon were making himself known. It shook the ground and the boughs of the tree trembled. Sweet-smelling apples tumbled into the mist.

“Wouldn’t it make more sense for me to get the apples?” (y/n) asked. “You brought along a daughter of Demeter for a reason.”

He smiled softly at her. “That’s not the reason I brought you along.”

And, before either she or Beckendorf could protest his stupidity or question his statement, Luke’s glowing sword materialised in his hand and he was running into the mist.

The mist spread apart as his feet made contact, and (y/n)’s heart dropped. Beckendorf, one of the bravest demigods she had ever met despite his age, had a tremor in his hands as he pulled free his sword.

Within the mist was the largest monster (y/n) had ever seen. It was wrapped around the tree in a serpentine-like way, scales glimmering in the moonlight like molten copper and bronze. Massive claws sunk into the dirt surrounding the tree, at least the length of her forearm and as wide as Beckendorf’s. Every breath it released shook the branches of the tree as though caught in a gale.

The most horrifying part: the dragon had a hundred heads.

She had read about Ladon, had familiarised herself with the myths surrounding the Hesperides. Days before the quest, she and Luke had sat down at the canoe lake, poring over old history books that told the tale of Heracles and his Twelve Labours, one of which was the very quest they were being made to repeat. Luke had made a joke of it back then, unhappy with the quest he had been given and disbelieving that what they faced would be much of a threat.

But Ladon was no joke. It was an entirely different thing seeing drawings of the dragon and seeing him in real life. His hundred heads slithered through the air like snakes on the water, luminous yellow eyes watching the demigods with piqued interest. 

Even Luke faltered.

A deep breath came from all two hundred of the dragon’s nostrils, washing over them in a hot, acidic wave. The smell alone was horrendous, like an old, decrepit sewer filled with rotting rats, and it had the hairs on her arms standing and her eyes burning. 

She was worried that she may never be able to move again, frozen in place by the sheer might of Ladon, but when Luke turned to look at her, blood flooded into her veins again. He was counting on her. She wouldn’t let him down.

Ladon expected a frontal assault. He was waiting for Luke to attack, watching like a predator on prey, but he did not expect the very tree he protected to act against him.

With a heave of energy, (y/n) stretched out her arm and watched as the tree’s trunk began to swell as if filling with liquid. Ladon’s serpentine body writhed around it, twisting as he moved to accommodate the growing tree. The branches above him shook, dipping towards the ground slowly. Too slowly.

The dragon seemed to realise what, or who, was causing the change, and snarled ferociously. It was at that moment that Beckendorf grabbed a ball of Celestial bronze from his belt and, with a strong arm and remarkably good aim, threw it at the beast.

An explosion of green ignited before them as the ball slammed into Ladon’s thick hide. The dragon roared, whether in pain or fury, and set its bright gaze on (y/n) and Beckendorf.

Fear coursed through her body. She could hardly breathe. The branches wavered, pausing the pursuit to the ground. Beckendorf launched another one of his Celestial bronze bombs.

A pity quest, that’s what this had been. But, maybe, it was more than that. Maybe this was Hermes’ punishment for Luke wanting more from his life. Maybe this was (y/n)’s consequence for falling so irrevocably in love with Luke - for feeling the way she did, she would have to follow him to impossible circumstances.

But none of them deserved it.

It was at that moment that Luke took his leap.

With speed befitting a child of Hermes, he leapt onto Ladon’s mighty body, feet finding purchase on his rough scales, and launched himself upwards towards the descending branches.

For a moment, there was hope. Even Heracles had not retrieved the apples by facing Ladon, but maybe Luke would. Perhaps Luke would succeed where Heracles had not. Pride swelled in her heart, coated her tongue like warm honey, and she almost smiled.

Copper-coloured claws flashed in the moonlight. A chorus of soft, harmonising voices swirled around them like mist.

Mistake, they sang. The boy has made a mistake.

There was a cry of pain so guttural that (y/n) felt it in her soul. Her feet were moving before she could truly comprehend what was happening. The grass tried to reach for her ankles, tried to stop her in her mission, but nothing could. Had a god stood before her, she would have found her way past them. Nothing could stop her, not even this dragon that caused such fear in her bones.

She reached Luke as Ladon wound around the tree tightly, snarling protectively. Something in the beast’s demeanour hinted at pain beneath the danger, and when she saw the gold blood pooling just a few feet away, she knew why.

A claw, one of Ladon’s, severed from the knuckle down lay strewn in the grass. The dragon hissed as Beckendorf snatched it up, hefting his sword as (y/n) pulled Luke away.

He was bleeding badly. A deep gash ran from the tip of his brow down to the corner of his  mouth, somehow missing his eye but cutting just above and below. His skin was already becoming dangerously pale. Her hands were covered in blood. His blood. She was going to be sick.

“Hey,” she murmured, gently laying his head on her lap. Her hands trembled as she reached into her bag. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”

Luke shuddered, eyes half-lidded and struggling to find something to focus on. “Are you -?”

“I’m fine,” she said. After a terrible moment, one that took far too long, she pulled free a small vial of nectar, wrapped tightly in old face-cloths to keep it from smashing in her bag. Her hands couldn’t stop shaking as she tried to unwrap it.

Beckendorf knelt beside her, claw at his side, and took the vial from her hands. She didn’t know how his hands could be so steady. She could hardly breathe. Not with Luke so injured, not with Ladon eyeing them hungrily.

He handed the vial back, and she propped Luke’s head up slightly. With a hiss of pain, she managed to open his mouth just enough to pour the small amount of nectar in. He swallowed with a struggle.

There was no telling how long it would take the nectar to work, but they couldn’t stay there under the watchful glare of Ladon, who looked ready to attack again. (y/n) took a trembling breath.

“Beckendorf,” she said, “are you able to carry him? At least until we can get out of this place. I can try - I can clean the wound when we’re safe.”

He nodded and hoisted Luke up into his arms, careful not to jostle his head too much.

She didn’t realise she had been crying until they stopped.

Beckendorf set Luke down on a soft patch of grass beyond the Garden, and (y/n) tucked her jacket underneath his head. The nectar seemed to be working, albeit slowly. Some colour was returning to his skin, but it was hard to see under all of the blood.

“You’re okay,” she murmured again, but she wasn’t sure who she was telling. She wiped her tears with the back of her hands.

She grabbed one of the face-cloths the vial of nectar had been wrapped in, soaking it in water from her water bottle, and slowly brought it to Luke’s face.

His eyes seemed to have some ability to focus now, watching her beneath a glaze of pain. It tore her soul in half to see him in pain, wincing as she gently dabbed the blood from his cheek. Her fingers were stained. His cheek was, too.

“I’m going to keep watch,” said Beckendorf. “Those Hesperides gave me a bad feeling.”

(y/n) nodded, watching for a moment as he trudged a few feet away, just out of earshot, but her focus soon returned to Luke. She tried not to think too much about how his hand was gripping her knee as she cleaned the rest of the blood.

“Is the nectar working?” she asked when she saw his eyes drooping. “What does it taste like?”

His gaze found hers, warm and cloudy. A pained smile fought its way onto his lips despite the slowly-healing scar on his cheek. She could see the skin trying to sew itself back together with the aid of the nectar.

“That smoothie you made a few months back with the - with the camp’s strawberries,” he uttered. “And whatever those green leaves were.”

She found herself smiling despite the red coating her hands. “Mint. And it was that good, huh? Last I checked, nectar for you tasted like that weird concoction of Coke and Sprite you liked so much.”

For a moment, his eyes grew distant before refocusing on her face. They flickered over her features as if seeing them for the first time. His hand felt awfully warm on her knee.

“Anything you make is better,” he said. 

“Is that so?” She brushed his hair back from his face softly, cleaning the last bits of blood.

His skin was still stitching itself back together, but the nectar seemed to have stopped the bleeding. Second by second, blood flooded back into his face, giving him the colour that seemed to have been leached from his skin.

He nodded, his smile seeming as though it pained him less. His hand slipped from her knee, coming up to wrap itself around hers. The cloth fell from her fingers and onto the grass. Her fingers were still wet, though in the dim light she couldn’t tell if it was from water or lingering blood. She didn’t have the stomach to find out.

“You said you didn’t bring me on this quest because of my mother,” she said cautiously. Her heart was pounding in her chest. “So why did you?”

A soft squeeze of her hand. “This wasn’t a quest I wanted to do without you,” he said. “I like having you by my side. You give me strength.”

She was sure he could feel her pulse beating rapidly in her fingers, but he didn’t say anything about it. He didn’t need to. It was entirely likely that he was able to read her mind, he knew her so well. And she was okay with that.

“You’re stupid, you know,” she said, but her voice wavered.

“Stupidly brave?” he suggested. “Stupidly handsome? Stupidly charming?”

“I’m supposed to be supporting you right now,” she grumbled. “Not the other way around.”

His cocky grin was back and her heart fluttered. “Which one is it?”

“Which what?”

“Stupidly brave, handsome, or charming?”

All three, she thought. All three and so much more.

“Stupidly stupid,” she decided. 

Her thumb grazed his cheekbone, the one without the scar, and a shiver ran through his body. His hand tightened on hers and his smile softened into something more personal. It was the kind of smile she would have leapt into Tartarus to ensure its permanence on his lips. Soft and kind and reserved just for her. If she'd been standing, her knees would have buckled.

“You give me strength, too,” she murmured.

A sliver of hair slipped in front of her eyes, and moments later, Luke’s free hand was there, gently brushing it away. His eyes sparkled. They seemed clearer now, less agonised.

The events of the last hour - gods, it had felt like much longer - came crashing back onto her at his touch, asphyxiating and terrifying. Overwhelming guilt filled her veins and arteries with terrible speed, sapping all the strength from her bones. Her fingers trembled once more.

“I’m sorry,” she said. Her throat felt suddenly raw. “If I’d done a better job distracting Ladon, maybe you wouldn’t be hurt.”

Luke’s eyes were dark for a moment, swirling with something she couldn’t identify, but they softened seconds later. His hand rested on her cheek, warm and comforting, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at his eyes now.

“This is not your fault,” he said, and his voice was remarkably strong. “This is the gods’ fault. It’s my father’s fault. But it is not your fault.”

She tried to believe him, truly she did, but looking at the fresh scar on his face, even having been almost entirely healed with nectar, had her heart heavy in her chest. 

He knew this. Gods, he knew her every thought. His hand slipped from hers, cupping her other cheek and tilting her head so that she would look at him properly. There was a flush to his cheeks now - good, it meant he was getting better. 

“My father did this,” he insisted. “You hear me? This was not you. And, gods, believe me when I say that I’m glad it was me that went for the apples and not you. I couldn’t live with myself if you got injured.”

But you did, she wanted to say - no, scream. How do I live with that?

“I’m okay,” he said softly, cautiously, as if talking to a child who had just woken from a nightmare. “I’m okay.”

His hand fell from her face, taking hers in its grip once more, and placed her fingers on the newly formed scar.

She jerked back, terrified that the sensation would cause him more pain, but he just gave her that smile again, the one that made her knees feel like jelly, and pressed her fingers to it once more. Already, the skin was raised and slightly twisted, accommodating for the injury. She could faintly feel his pulse beneath his skin, slow and infuriatingly steady.

“It doesn't hurt,” he promised. His voice was so reassuring that she could feel it in her bones, and she was half-convinced he was secretly a child of Aphrodite, blessed with charmspeak. “I’m okay because of you.”

Her throat was achy. “And Beckendorf.”

He gave a small laugh. “And Beckendorf. But mainly you. You’ve given me strength.”

It was then that the world itself seemed to stop. He was leaning upwards, bringing her face close to his, and his lips brushed hers so softly that she feared she may have been dreaming the entire encounter.

She could taste the faint remnants of metallic blood, though it was easily brushed aside. Luke’s lips were slightly wind-chapped but she found herself uncaring when they slotted perfectly against hers.

This kiss was something she had been waiting years for, and it was better than she could have ever dreamed. The feeling of his hands on her, his lips against hers, it was something that could not be replicated in a dream, like flying for the first time and feeling the clouds beneath your fingers.

It was addictive, more so than the stupid apples that had caused Luke such pain, and she found herself wanting more. It was an effort to pull away from him, but eventually, she did. Beckendorf was only a few feet away and she didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. It would make for an awkward journey home.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do that,” Luke murmured.

Finally, there was a smile tugging on her lips again. “You’ve no idea how long I’ve been waiting.”

It took another hour or so before Luke was well enough to get moving. The dark trails gave all of them a bad feeling, and (y/n) wasn’t able to shake the almost hypnotic choral voices of the Hesperides until they were out of the State Park. Luke was shaky on his feet for a little while but his strength was returning.

And with it came anger.

Not anger at (y/n) or Beckendorf, no. He still smiled at them as usual, fingers entwined with (y/n)’s so tightly it was as though he was afraid she would slip away. Jokes still slipped past his lips despite the events of the evening.

But he was filled with fiery rage. It was hidden, but (y/n) could read him like a book. She had seen the inklings of it throughout the previous days of their quest, had seen it more clearly while she was cleaning the blood from his face - this anger, though, was pure. Harder to mask.

He had already been furious with his quest, a detail he had tried to keep hidden from her. He hated the idea of repeating history and the fact that this quest was simply made to satiate him, to prevent him from growing restless at camp and questioning the authority of the gods.

This was a breaking point.

It became clearer the more time passed. As the days and weeks went by, he would hold her hand like a lifeline and kiss her so softly it felt as though she was dreaming, but the anger never left. It ate away at him, dimming his smiles and reducing any respect he had left for the gods until there was nothing left but a shadow of what had once been there.

The scar never faded. It became a reminder of what he believed to be the gods’ failure. His failure.

He was still her Luke. The Luke she had known and loved since she was thirteen. She was just terrified of what he might become.

[ghostboneswrites2]

To help break free of writers block, I’m doing these. Enjoy 🍓

Young Daryl Dixon x Strawberry Reader

(a short little drabble)

(Fem!Reader) (Reader descriptions: freckles, hair long enough to be messy and put in a hair tie - no race or body type mentioned)

-18+ MDNI-

Masterlist

In his early twenties, Daryl had only two friends he dared to associate with. One of them was Gunner, a man of few words with a short fuse. The other, a guy called Wylie, like the cartoon coyote. He earned that nickname for a few reasons, but mostly due to his poor luck with women. The joke was that he’d chase them forever but he’d never actually catch them. The only girl in the entire town that would associate with him was his little sister, Y/N.

She was only a year younger than he was, but she was smarter than him by far. He was a dumb boy, with not much going on behind those bug-ish.

All in all, they were a trio of losers. Daryl had been the only attractive one of the bunch, and even he had zero game. The three of them would often hang out by the lake. A lake which had no name, proudly referred to by the locals as ‘The Lake.’

They’d lean against Daryl’s beat up old Ford, the same truck he’d always been working on in his dad’s driveway in high school. Merle always told him it was a lost cause — that they should have just junked it for a quick dime. Daryl was insistent, though, that he could get it running, and sure enough he did. It only costed him two years of his life and a handful of dead end jobs to afford the parts and pieces it required.

With a functional vehicle, a young man in his prime was surely unstoppable. As often as he could manage, Daryl would scoop up his two friends and find some kind of trouble to get into. That particular day, they opted for a dip in the lake. Georgian summers were no joke, but this particular summer was more than any of them could have anticipated. The record high temperatures had rendered many air conditioning units useless. The only HVAC company in the county couldn’t keep up with the calls. In simpler terms, it was hot as fuck outside.

“Hotter than a damn dingle berry in the devil’s ass-crack, I’ll tell ya that much.” Wylie joked, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the dingy old Metallica shirt he’d just taken off.

The boys all mumbled in agreement as they stripped down into their trunks, excited to take a dip in the cool water.

“Least we picked the spot with the best view.” Gunner snickered as he looked around. The Lake was busy that day, as it had been all summer.

Young people and small families lined the bank of the water. Kids played and splashed, young couples took turns on the rope swing, women laid out on their towels and floats to soak up some sun.

One particularly bright young lady caught Daryl’s eye among the crowd, with her bright red top and torn up daisy dukes. The sun left a radiant glow on her skin as she shook out her messy hair from its previous updo. Freckles littered her skin like strawberry seeds, especially on a sunny day. It took him little time to realize she was Y/N, Wylie’s previously mentioned younger sister.

She notice the gang of merry idiots as soon as they noticed her. She rolled her eyes and strode over to them, glaring them down as she ate a fresh strawberry.

“And just what the hell are you three tit-for-brains doin’ here today?” She questioned suspiciously.

“Swimmin’, cause it’s hot. Just like everybody else out here.” Wylie defended.

“Surely it’s not ‘cause you knew I was comin’ out here with my friends today.” She pressed on. “Always followin’ us around like puppy dogs to catch a glimpse of my friends.”

Her eyes scanned over Gunner, then Wylie, before landing mischievously on Daryl. “Or, me.” She teased. Daryl scoffed.

“Yeah right.” He waved her off. His dismissive facade couldn’t hide the way his eyes lingered on her glossy lips as she sucked her finger clean of strawberry juices. He cleared his throat and gulped. “The hell y’all doin’ out here anyway? Y’ain’t got nothin else to do, like doin’ your hair and talkin’ ‘bout boys?”

“Ain’t no boys worth talkin’ about in this town, Dixon.” She fired back.

“I could think of a few.” Wylie chimed in, smirking at a pair of girls as they walked past in their bikinis.

“Please.” She snorted. “Ain’t a single lady in the state of Georgia that would touch any one o’ you buffoons with a ten foot pole.”

“That ain’t what your friend Gina said the other night.” Wylie said with confidence.

“Oh, that’s right!” Y/N snapped her fingers, as if attempting to recall something. “I believe what she said was… that your breath smelled so bad she nearly fainted tryin’ to hold her breath.”

Gunner and Daryl stifled their laughter as their friend had his ego torn apart once again by his little sister.

“Whatever, man. Let’s just go swim.” Wylie grumbled as he shuffled toward the water. Gunner followed after him, followed by Daryl. Y/N matched her pace to the young Dixon, eying him curiously through the corners of her lashes.

“Why do you even hang around with those two dimwits, Dixon?” She asked him, just as they reached the edge of the water where Wylie and Gunner were acclimating to the cold.

“There my friends.” Daryl shrugged, kicking off his shoes.

“Mm. Dead weight is what they are.”

“Wha’s that mean?” Daryl arched a brow curiously.

“Just that…” She trailed off, looking him up and down once more before she smirked. “It can be hard to appreciate a nice thing when it’s surrounded by garbage, that’s all.”

With that, she winked at him, and walked back over to her friends. She left him in disbelief for a moment, before he’d shake his head and follow his friends into the lake.

For the rest of the afternoon, he’d splash and joke with his buddies, occasionally leaving the water to pull a beer from their cooler and return. Sneakily, he’d pass a glance toward Y/N, but somehow she always caught him looking. Conveniently, she’d make sure to stretch it bend over just as he did, batting her eyes and licking her lips each time.

[mcu-pokedex]

First Date with Peter Parker

Overview: y/n and Peter are nervous about telling each other that they have feelings, yet somehow they end up on a movie date.

Warnings: Some kissing, all fluff

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Y/N POV:

I can't believe it! Oh. My. God. Walking out of computer science Peter asked me what I was doing tonight. Even though it was a Friday the only thing on my to-do list was putting on a face mask and watching Netflix. Stumbling over my words I had agreed to go to the movies with him. Again, oh my god! I was so anxious. Questions racking in my brain. All I can think about is what on earth do I wear? I had to get home immediately.

Well walking back home Peter texted me saying that he would get me at 7:30. The image of Peter at my front door gave me tingles. An unstoppable smile spread on my face. Opening my bedroom door and throwing my backpack onto the floor I rush to my closet. Throwing clothes into my bed and googling cute movie theater outfits. I knew this should be easy, but lord knows how much I will overthink this.

Peter's POV:

No way I just did that. After having a crush on y/n since the moment we met. Today I finally had the balls to ask her out. Well, kind of. I mean we are going to the movies together but I don't know if they see it as a date. Either way, my heart is beating out of my chest. I have been sitting in my living room waiting to go to y/n's place. I've been ready since 4:30 and it's only 6. Ughh. I don't even know what we are gonna see. I wanna leave it totally up to them. I do not want to mess up this kind of date at all.

Y/N POV:

Peter is gonna be here 10 minutes and I can't sit still. I am wearing blue jeans and a maroon shirt. It's simple and allows for my body to not overheat. I'm so flushed I don't even need to put on blush. After realizing this I blush even more. I did put on a little mascara and concealer to give me more confidence. Slipping on my white Converse it hit me what was happening. My stomach was doing flips at the idea of Peter about to knock on my front door. I made sure to spray myself with perfume so there was no chance I smelled bad. I am so nervous my throat is dry and my hands are fidgeting. After years of knowing Peter and having a crush on him for just as many, I can't believe we are going on a date. Unless of course, this is just a hangout. I want to spiral on that idea again but I can't as I hear a knock on my door. Sending electricity shooting through my body.

Peter POV:

Walking up to her front door was one of the most nerve-racking things ever. I raised my hand to knock on their front door, taking a deep breath before letting my knuckles touch the door. Only a beat later the door swung open. They looked gorgeous. I mean they always do. Even when they are tired late at night in our mini-study group. But right now my eyes had no choice but to soak them in, and I was loving it. Their mouth was agape making my heart flutter. Ned always told me that he thought y/n had a crush on me but I never believed it. I mean me? Peter Parker, pfff. But I do wonder what's going on in that pretty head of theirs.

Y/N POV:

He looked handsome. hair fluffy, in jeans, and a Midtown jacket. He was captivatingly comfy. His eyes are soft and giving you all there attention. His mouth was a little open which I couldn't help but giggle at.

"Hello Peter" I stated, looking him in the eyes, causing my breath to falter.

"Oh, uh- hello y/n" he cutely stuttered back. Making me laugh under my breath at how silly he can be.

"Should we get going? I saw that were was a preview of Titanic at 7:45 at the movie theater just down the road. "

"Yeah!" he nodded.

I closed the door behind me and stepped aside Peter. As we began our walk I noticed how the street lights made his face glow. Giving me a warm feeling inside. There had been a comfortable silence between the two of us till I asked.

"How have you been since school?"

"Good, I mean I barely touched my homework, but it's Friday and I got a whole weekend ahead of me" he lets out a little laugh and looks down at his hands.

"Same, that paper due for English also has me in a chokehold. I have no idea what to write it on." I said.

The rest of the walk was just casual conversation. I mean me and Peter are best friends no matter what this hangout date situation is.

Peter's POV:

As we walked I couldn't help but try to think of ways to make y/n laugh. I would do anything to hear that laugh they have. It brings me such joy to know they are happy. Without realizing it we had walked the few blocks in a matter of minutes. I walked up to the booth of the ticket holder.

"Two tickets for Titanic please?" I said handing them 25 dollars.

"Movie theater 2 on your left, have fun watching!" They said as they gave me my tickets and some coins back.

However, this outing ate away at my small personal savings. I could not imagine spending it in any other way. Whatever it took to hang out or see you I would spend. We walked through the entrance and y/n stopped.

"Peter do you want popcorn or anything?" y/n asked.

"Maybe, do you want any y/n?" I asked smirking knowing that asking was y/n's way of saying they wanted something.

"Peter you know me too well," They said hitting my shoulder playfully.

We both laughed as we got into line asking for a large popcorn with extra butter.

Y/N POV:

After finding movie theater 2. You both sat in the middle-top area. It's a good spot. I was surprised because of how full the room was. I noticed there were only two other empty seats throughout the entire thing. It was packed! I mean it is a Friday so it makes sense, even if this movie is old. I had been thinking about the chances of our seats before I even noticed Peter trying to ask me something.

"Have you ever seen Titanic before?" he looked curious, his cute little eyebrow raised.

"Uhh, I guess not" I shrugged not thinking much of it.

"Y/n I really need to do a better job at getting you well-versed in movies" he let out a little chuckle.

"I guess so! We can call it a date"

I was astonished at the words that just left my mouth. NO WAY did I just confirm that I wanted to go on a date with Peter. My face was red. I don't even need a mirror to know that. Thank god the lights were dim.

I stuttered out "I- I mean only if- you want it too, noooo pressure" giving a fake laugh to cover my anxiety.

" Y/n can I ask you something?" he says looking right into my eyes. Which felt like he was examining my soul.

I swallowed my spit " Uhh- yeah, ask away!" I said with way too much excitement in my voice.

"Is this a date?"

My heart was in my throat and my eyes opened wide. Did he really just ask that. There's no way. An eruption of butterflies took over my body. I was about to answer before we were cut off by the people behind us choosing us. I looked dead forward at the screen not wanting to see Peter's face. I ate some of the popcorn in my lap and handed Peter the rest. The nerve recked my appetite. And before dealing it the movie had begun.

Peter POV:

I was just about to get an answer out of y/n before the rude guy behind us interrupted. I was enamored with their face as the bright screen showed their wonderful details. They were stunned and in shock. I was beginning to believe that Ned had been right. I could not believe it. But it's the only excuse for y/n's reaction. Unless of course, they hate me. Which I highly doubt. I slowly looked at the screen as they handed me the popcorn.

---30 minutes later---

I noticed y/n shivering. I mean it was a little cold in here but not enough for me to be considered cold. I wonder if they want my jacket.

Y/N POV:

I had been so engrossed with the plotline before realizing Peter was handing me his jacket. It made me realize how I was sitting on my hands and folder over to keep me warm.

"Thank you, Peter"

"Of course y/n, anytime" he smirked.

I put the jacket on feeling the heat from his body still keeping it warm. It smelled like him, which was also a plus.

---Another 30 minutes later---

I was trying to watch the movie but all I could think about was the cute boy sitting next to me. Including all the cute things he does. Whether he is talking about space, the Avengers, or even his science homework. It always made me happy, to see how happy Peter was. I was so happy to be here with him. And he had bought the tickets and given me his hoodie without me even telling him I was cold. I slowly reached my hand from my lap and onto the armrest. Leaving my palm facing up. My heart was about to leap out at this act of confidence. But I just had to remind myself of all those times I dreamed of holding Peter Parker's hand. So I kept it there, hoping for the best.

Peter POV:

Their hand was on the armrest palm up. I had seen them move their shy hands up and onto the armrest. I was glad to know that all this worrying about my crush was actually real and that they liked me back. As smoothly as I could I picked my hand up and ran my fingers over their palm. Before I landed my plan in there's and squeezed my hand tight around there's. Our fingers are entwined with one another.

Their face held a small smirk which gave me just enough confidence to pull their hand into my lap. Pulling them over the arm rest. So that their head was leaning on my shoulder. It felt right, and I heard y/n's breath pick up and come to a steady resting place.

---Another 30 minutes---

I had seen Titanic many times before this. So I tuned it out. Only focusing on the feelings I was experiencing. To have y/n's hand in mine, them wearing my jacket, and them just being with me. I was on cloud nine. There was only another half hour before the movie was over and I could tell the end was gonna make y/n cry. It even made me cry the first time I saw it. They were holding my hand tight and were gasping to all the twists and turns.

As the movie wrapped up I was hesitant to move. I knew y/n had shed a few tears as my shoulder was lightly wet. Which did not bother me one bit. Also, I did not want this moment to end. I wanted them to make the choice to move away from me.

Y/N POV:

I had been lying on Peter's shoulder for half the movie. I knew I would have neck pain later but I did not care because I did not wish to move. I did cry a little but I hope Peter did not notice. I was sad to see the credits begin to roll and the lights un-dim in the theater. I waited till the last second to move away from Peter. Basically, until everyone was standing up. As soon as I pulled away I missed his touch. I looked down at us still holding hands and realized that he was looking also. When we looked back up at each other.

" Do you want to take a walk around Central Park?" he asked.

" I would love to Peter" I grinned as he stood up with our hands still locked together

We exited the theater in a blissful state. I was over the moon Petere actually liked me back. So much so that the ending of the Titanic did not take hold of my emotions.

"So I have to ask how did you like the movie?" Peter asked as you walked outside.

"Good. I was not ready for Jack though. Sorry if I got your shoulder wet. I was just surprised they did that to his character"

Peter chuckled, "It's okay y/n, all good"

Both of you had been walking in silence for a few minutes. Enjoying each other's company. A few seconds later Peter stopped when you reached the front gates of the park.

"What?"

"You never answered that question back there," he said raising an eyebrow.

" Pfff, whaaa, okay maybe" I deflected.

" Hey I mean I want this to be a date but only if you want it-"

I cut him off, "YES, please, Peter I have liked you for too long, please say this is a date!" I basically begged

" Well then y/f/n y/l/n you are in luck because I Peter Parker and taking you out on an official date. Would you like to walk around Central Park with me?"

'"Of course!" I said gidddy with a smile across my face.

It was late but neither of you cared. Walking around the paths, going under bridges, and still holding hands. The air was brisk yet it was all worth it to step on the crunchy leaves scattered across the ground. It had been a few minutes of silence and some light conversation explaining how long we both had liked each other. We were both walking when he stopped on top of a bridge above a little river. The lights illuminated above me.

Turning to me he said, "Y/n I have had a wonderful night"

"Me as well," I said smiling.

"Well," he said placing his arm around my back and taking a small step forward. " Now that I know how long we have liked each other . . "

"Yeah Peter," I said looking at him with curiosity.

Nervously he stuttered out "Y/n I like you a lot! And I just want you to know that and-"

He cut himself off by leaning into my face and gently placing his lips on mine. My breath hitched as I realized that Peter was kissing me. I quickly retracted. Soaking in how soft and tender he kissed me. it was so gentle it was almost like an angel. When he pulled away both let out a loud exhale. Then we looked at each other and laughed. It was silly how long it took us to get to this point. I leaned into Peter letting him pull me flush to his body. I grabbed his face with both of my hands and placed my lips onto his with a little more force this time.

Well kissing Peter all I could think about was how much I love this boy, causing me to smile into the kiss.

[a-world-with0ut-dr34ms]

A Table of Contents to all my CoD Men x Reader Fics

My shit was getting disorganized as fuck, so I collected everything I've typed on here and put it into a single post, just to make it easier to find my stuff if you ever choose to. User Accessibility matters!

Note - All of this is 18+ and Mature, but not all of it is Smut

SFW/Fluff // Masterlist

The masterlist to all of the SFW/Fluff One-Shots for Ghost x Reader.

No Good Men Left To Spare // Masterlist

No pair of people hated each other more than you and Ghost. To him, you were just another loud-mouthed, obnoxious, and immature little princess needing to be humbled. To you, he was just a boring, broody asshole hellbent on not liking you. Things between you two couldn't be any worse. After pushing one too many of his buttons tonight, you and Ghost going off to have a quick smoke turns into something else entirely.

Make Me Beg

Ghost had been curious to see if you could be the one to make him beg for a change, in which to both his pleasure and dismay, you oblige.

Greedy

Ghost x Dom!Reader x Soap

Ghost and Soap find themselves crushing on the same woman on their team, a friendly bout between two comrades to see who you'll choose, only your answer's not one they'd expected to hear.

The Lights Stay Off

No Summary :(

NSFW, 18+, Shameless Smut, No Plot, Porn w/out Plot, Sex in the dark, Explicit, Graphic Language, Teasing, Touch-Starved Touching, Embarrassing, First Time Together, Fingering, Sloppy Kisses, Somewhat Rough Sex, slightly Intimate, Ghost is a bit of a dom, Reader's a bit snarky

Ghost Fan Edit

My thirst for this man is endless. I've been thirsty since I was 11 and first laid eyes on him in 2009. He just gets finer each year. I don't think I'd have my mask kink without him.

Now you get to see how rhythmically challenged I am. These are fun to make; once I get better at them I'll be unstoppable (｀∀´)Ψ

I Won't Forget

Short Drabble ~ Your last night with Johnny...

Can You Spot Me?

You decide to reward Soap after finishing a set on the bench press.

NSFW 18+, Explicit, Shameless Smut, Porn w/out Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Gym Sex, Teasing, Fluff, Flirting, Cunnilingus, Blow-Jobs, Cowgirl, P in V, Might be a little tame, but still Graphic Description, no Y/N usage

Greedy (same story as above one in Ghost's section)

Speedracer

Gaz x Reader x Soap

It's not every day Gaz gets to drive fast cars. It's also not every day he gets to race hot strangers on the road either.

SFW, Some swearing, Fluff, Flirting, Banter, Racing, Three-Way flirting, Random, Innocent, Some Car Lingo, Soap and Gaz sharing a single brain cell, Eventual smut in part two, scarcely proofread

Been In Love

After a breakup, Price figures a walk along the beach might make for a good distraction. What he did not expect to find was a strange woman standing off to the shore, who looked as though she were about ready to drown herself at sea.

pt. 0 | pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

Bloodstained Honesty

Wounded, bloody, and just the two of you. A mission gone wrong leads to a long overdue moment between both you and your Captain, perhaps too late to count for anything. Not if either of you two can help it at least.

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

Sex Tape ~ Kinktober Prompt

No summary (._. )

NSFW (18+), Shameless Smut, Explicit Detail, Groping, Fingering, Nipple-Play, Oral (Female Receiving), AFAB!Reader Long-Distance, Sex Tape, Scarcely Proofread, Kinktober

Some Days

Drabble ~ Price has a tendency to wake up most mornings before you...

SFW, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Innocent, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Mornings, Wife Reader, Soft Price, Price is a little mopey, scarcely proofread

Let Me Play You A Song

During a get-together, you and the Captain decide to sneak off for a spell. The intentions were mostly pure. At the start...

Captain Price Fan Edit

My first time making a video like this EVER (ʃᵕ̩̩ ᵕ̩̩). It came out more like a trailer than an edit, but I had so much fun making this. I really hope you like it! *totally not nervous* (　◜◡‾)

Captain Price Fan Edit 2

Control Masterlist

Slow Burn, Love Triangle, Angst, Romance, Drama

You’ve been with Shadow Company long enough to know working alongside 141 on their search for the stolen American missiles wouldn’t be an ordinary assignment. And most importantly, you knew Graves. Shadow Company keeps its allies close, and its enemies closer. When you’re given a job, it gets done without conflict. Without loose ends.

Your true mission is clear to you -- keep an eye on 141 and keep them comfortable. Anything it takes to alleviate suspicion of Shadow Company’s involvement with the missing missiles. This wasn’t about saving lives, this was a deadly game of control, and you intend to do so flawlessly.

Phillip Graves Character Trailer

Deepthroating ~ Kinktober Prompt

Drabble - You decide to pay your commander a little visit during one of his later nights in the office...

Welp, that's that. Thanks ( .-.)

...

Here are links to some of my gaming clips if interested (shameless plug)

One | Two | Three | Four | Five

[morelikeravenbore]

How did Auralie get her scars?

🦋✨ Hello there li'l anon friend! Thank you sooo much for sending in this question and for taking an interest in my bebe!

Not gonna lie, I went full blown too-much for this one and ended up writing a ~1.3k word fluffy drabble instead, lolol. But if you'd like a tldr, Aura got her scars after obtaining a scratch from a Venomous Tentacular seedling in her father's greenhouse. Since the wounds were magical in nature, the scars weren't able to be erased, but thanks to the wise words of her plant-loving (slightly eccentric) Hufflepuff Papa, she learned to see the beauty in them.

Anyways, this little oneshot is based after events in How to Make a Villain that haven't been published yet. For anyone reading along, there aren't any hard spoilers, but there are hints that they've been through some ✨stuff.✨

🦋 TW: none! Mostly fluffy with a little bit of angst and a general air of trauma. Photo of Aura's scars by me, Sebebe's scars by @lorriiraine

Preview: Much to the chagrin of his peers, excelling in his studies was, to put it mildly, downright bloody easy, and though his natural proclivity towards excellence often put him on the receiving end of bitter remarks and jealous taunts, Sebastian took pride in the fact that despite everything that had been taken from him, his intelligence remained unfaltering.

That is, until he fell in love.

Sebastian Sallow was no idiot, by any means. Having been raised by two fiercely academic professors, he'd spent much of his childhood with his nose buried in a book, studying magical theory and practicing wandless magic well before he'd taken his epochal trip to Ollivander's. Needless to say, by the time he arrived at Hogwarts — armed with a dragon heartstring wand and an itching desire to point it at everything — his intelligence was rivalled only by that of his sisters: the Sallow twins, though grieving the tragic death of their parents, were the brightest pair of students the school had seen in recent memory, an unstoppable force of Slytherin brains, resourcefulness, and ambition who were destined for greatness despite their unfortunate beginnings.

In fact, so brilliant was Sebastian's studious mind that when those unfortunate beginnings turned into unfortunate endings — starting with his sister's curse and ending with his uncle's death — his grades remained so impeccably high that even the strictest professors were loathe to punish him too severely when he repeatedly broke curfew to steal books.

Much to the chagrin of his peers, excelling in his studies was, to put it mildly, downright bloody easy, and though his natural proclivity towards excellence often put him on the receiving end of bitter remarks and jealous taunts, Sebastian took pride in the fact that despite everything that had been taken from him, his intelligence remained unfaltering.

That is, until he fell in love.

Little did he know that the thing that would ultimately turn his brain from highly efficient machine into flobberworm mush would come not in the form of N.E.W.T studies or brutal exam revisions, but from a girl who was so beautiful she rendered him incapable of coherent speech, rational thought and, perhaps most difficult of all, an inability to restrain himself from pulling her onto his lap and staring at her all gooey-eyed like he was now, their faces so close he could count every sun-kissed freckle across her nose.

To think he'd once thought himself too smart to ever fall in love.

What an idiot.

'You have a scar.' Aurelie was the first to break the silence they'd been enjoying for the better part of the afternoon, tilting her head to inspect the two faint scars that adorned his bottom lip. 'What happened?'

Sebastian had to hold his breath as her fingers ghosted the corner of his mouth; though the great weeping willow they'd settled under for the day offered some privacy from the shrewd eyes and wagging tongues of their fellow Feldcroft residents, it wasn't quite an appropriate place to enact all the romantic fantasies he imagined whenever she was perched in his lap like this.

'Flying —' He cleared his throat. 'Flying accident.'

'Quidditch?'

'No, uh —' Me crash broom. Biiiig idiot. 'I borrowed my father's broomstick when I was seven. Crashed into the side of the house.'

'Silly,' she murmured, giggling so close to his mouth that he inhaled it.

Sebastian nodded: the only response he could reasonably manage as her breath fanned pleasantly across his face, as warm and sweet as the summer air in his lungs.

Yes. Me stupid. Give smooch.

'You have scars, too,' he observed, his feather-light touch mirroring hers as he traced the delicate scars along her jawbone.

Though they did little to mar her beauty, the three long scratches seemed somehow too violent for features so fine, like cracks in an ornately gilded mirror, or chips in an otherwise pristine marble slab. He'd often wondered how she'd gotten them, but the mere thought of her suffering any sort of pain was so intolerable that he'd never found the courage to ask.

Seeming to sense the disquieted tone of his thoughts, Aurélie caught his fingers and pressed them to her cheek, effectively short-circuiting his brain again.

Me like touch face.

'Oh, those,' she said mildly, leaning into his touch. 'Gardening mishap.'

Sebastian could only grunt questioningly in reply, struck dumb again by the warmth of her skin and how softly it yielded beneath his calloused palm. It wasn't often she let him touch her so willingly; after all, there were scars that ran deeper than her marked skin, barely healed wounds that were so fresh and tender that she flinched away if he wasn't careful enough, slow enough. Part of loving this tentative girl was learning to control the moments his brain flipped off and his rambunctious heart took over, when his once infallible logic and reason were trumped by his big, dumb heart.

Theirs was a love that had exploded into existence at the start of their seventh year only to smoulder away inexorably for the rest of it until the flames inevitably reared up to engulf them. Now, a month after graduation, both a little scorched around the edges, neither of them were quite used to being together together, still reeling from the events that had nearly torn them apart while trying to navigate a future they'd never seen coming.

Of course, Sebastian had known from the beginning that his future was bound to hers — but never like this.

'Papa raised Venomous Tentacular when we lived in France,' Aurélie explained, closing her eyes as he stroked his thumb across her cheek. 'Maman was not happy about it. She argued that it was too dangerous to keep such aggressive plants in his greenhouses, especially with a curious daughter in tow.' She cracked open an eye to peek at him, a little wry grin teasing the corner of her lips. 'She didn't approve of my enthusiasm for gardening. Apparently, "it's not becoming of a lady to have dirt caked under her nails all the time." But Papa insisted.'

'Hufflepuff's and their plants,' Sebastian murmured, surprised he was able to string together four words that actually made sense.

'Yes,' she said, glancing up through her lashes with a smile tinged with pain. Sebastian returned it in kind, his own smile heavy with the burdens he shouldered. He knew how it felt to have the warmth of every happy memory tempered by the cold indifference of loss, every fond recollection skewed by sorrow. Like a favourite landscape seen through a rain-lashed window, familiar yet distorted, so too were his own memories of his past, of Anne and his parents, his childhood.

With a patience that was new to him, Sebastian waited in quiet observance while Aurélie disappeared across that great chasm of death to visit a happier time, letting her own tainted memories sweep her away until the rustling of summer wind through willow branches brought her back to him.

'Well,' she said, shifting her faraway gaze to meet his, 'you can imagine her horror when a Tentacular seedling reared up unexpectedly and scratched me.' She gestured at her face, tilting her chin back to show him the full extent of the damage her gardening mishap had left behind. Sebastian instinctively leaned forward, wanting so badly to kiss, to soothe, to mend, but mindful, as always, of taking his time.

Pretty.

'It was the worst fight my parents ever had,' she sighed. 'Maman was distraught, said that I'd ruined my face and that Papa had been irresponsible to let me near them. She tried every remedy under the sun to erase the scars — magical and mundane, Healers and Herbologists... even a Curse Breaker when she got really desperate. But magical wounds leave scars, so...'

She trailed off with a shrug, and Sebastian thought that if he didn't kiss away the lingering sadness from her face right then and there, he might actually explode.

'And what did your Papa think?' he asked, his voice a reverent whisper as the tip of his nose brushed hers.

'He used to say that my scars were simply "physical evidence of my curious nature and adventurous spirit",' she whispered back, repeating her father's words with perfect recollection. 'And that they only made me more beautiful.'

'Wise man, that Papa of yours.'

No more sad. Me smooch now.

When he leaned in again, dipping his head to brush his nose along her jawline, she didn't move away.

[myimaginationplain]

This beautiful piece of fan art by @/stickymaelk on Twitter made my brain start whirling around an Arcane x Soul Eater AU that I'm sure I won't be able to get out of my head for a little while, so here are my fledgling headcanons:

Jayce & Viktor are obviously partners, with Jayce being the meister & Viktor the weapon. Viktor has a very closed-off soul & finds it near impossible to partner with anyone other than Jayce (ala Soul). Jayce has a very large, kinetic soul-wavelength that he can use to attack sans his weapon ala Black☆Star, though he wouldn't necessarily want to. He has an easier time pairing up with other people compared to Viktor, but most other weapons would find his wavelength overwhelming. Jayce grew up in Death City with his mother. They're probably the first of their class to make a Death Scythe. I absolutely see the two of them getting into a Maka-&-Soul-esque dilemma where Jayce develops a complex around needing to protect Viktor at all costs, despite it being the weapon's job to protect their meister. The handle of Viktor's hammer-form takes on the aesthetic qualities of whatever cane he's using at the time.

Caitlyn is the first meister in Kiramman family history (maybe she gets it from Tobias's side?) & her deciding to pursue this path has created a rift between she & Cassandra. Caitlyn & Jayce hit it off during their first week at the DWMA & she was extremely disappointed to find out he wasn't a weapon. Caitlyn goes through her entire first semester without having chosen a weapon before Death Scythe Grayson reccomends she pair up with Vi; the two of them never would have seriously considered the other before, but they work like a charm. Maybe they eventually have a little breakup arc where their partnership dissolves & Caitlyn picks up Maddie as her new weapon, but they can't resonate the same way she & Vi could.

Vi & Powder are kind of a combination of the Thompson sisters & the Nakatsukasa siblings. Like Liz & Patty, they're both modern firearms. But whereas Vi only has one form (a rifle) like Masamune, Powder is a multi-form weapon like Tsubaki; she can turn into a handgun, a canon, a grenade, a time-bomb, etc. Vi lowkey wishes she were a meister so that she & Powder could've been partners, & has a bit of an inferiority complex about not being a good enough weapon. The two of them were taken in & raised by the DWMA along with Ekko. Maybe their parents were all meisters and/or weapons who were killed by witches or something. Powder absolutely gets injected with Black Blood at some point. At some point before either of them had official partners, Jayce & Vi tried to pair up & it was an absolute disaster (their souls are like the immovable object vs the unstoppable force, lol).

Ekko is a meister & Powder's partner. The two of them decided to be a pair before they were even officially enrolled at the DWMA. Ekko has a grigori soul (ala Maka), which helps to counteract Powder's madness post-Black Blood infusion. If they ever formed a team of weapon-meister pairs like Spartoi, then Ekko would definitely be the leader. Powder worries that she's dragging Ekko's as a meister potential down with her.

Mel has a Stein-esque soul, in that she can meister any weapon with ease &, like Jayce, can fight without a weapon (she's more adept & eager to do so than Jayce is). Her most common weapon partner is Elora, & sometimes Sky (I definitely see Sky having Marie's healing wavelength). Maybe Elora is killed in battle (sorry girl) or decommissioned some other way, & Sky becomes Mel's primary weapon after that? The Medarda's are a long, unbroken line of prodigious meisters & weapons, & Mel definitely feels the weight of that legacy. Mel is revealed to be part witch ala Kim.