Went To Miami To Recover Father Sotirios. And Made Some New Friends.

Is... Is this good or bad?? I don't know anything anymore 😅

Gonna make a uquiz. that’s gonna blow tumblr wide open.

NO WAY

Fluff

Summary: The real reason behind your enhanced abilities is a closely guarded secret… until Steve Rogers happens. Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (platonic) Word Count: 3051 Warnings: Fluff, language, talk of periods, minor angst, literal fluff, more literary fluff A/N: This story came from a random brainstorm idea I had while on Discord with some friends, and I managed to turn it into an actual story! I’ve been getting used to my new job, still exhausted all the time, but managing to push forward and write when I can. :) I really hope you enjoy this story, it was beta’d by @saxxxology and the gif below was made by me. 

Marvel Masterlist

The knock on your door takes you by surprise, and you carefully mark the page in your book before sliding off the edge of the bed to answer it. Not many people visit you in your room at the Avengers compound unless it’s for a mission, which FRIDAY would have already alerted you to if there was.

When you swing open the door, the last person you expect is Natasha Romanoff standing there looking down the hallway, perfectly styled red hair swinging as she turns her head to look at you.

“Hey Agent Y/L/N,” she greets you with one of her patented spy smiles, giving nothing away about her true intentions. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything important.”

“No, just catching up on my reading during the downtime between missions,” you inform her warily. “Is there… something you needed?”

“Oh, no,” she waves a hand in front of her, “just… me and a few of the other compound residents are planning a girls night later this month. Taking over Tony’s pool and hot tub, raiding his expensive liquor, ordering way too much pizza… you know, the yoozh. I wanted to see if you were interested in coming. It’d be me, Agent Hill, Wanda, Agent Alvarez, and I’m pretty sure Pepper is going to be there, too.”

The request, however surprisingly random, intrigues you. You’ve only been on a handful of missions with the agents she listed, and nothing between you or anyone she mentioned feels close to friendship. Either way, you decide to go along with it; maybe it’s time to make some friends, you have been living here for almost six months now and are just as solitary as the day you arrived.

Keep reading

This is your personal guardian dog.

He’s going to protect you from things like “if you don’t reblog this in 30 seconds your mum will die!!” and “Reblog this or you will fail class!!”

He’s very happy to protect you, so you don’t have to worry about a thing!!

do not pet (he bites)

early access + nsfw on patreon

I'm a Leo and then we will do the argument because of my job

😂 yeah, pretty much

I’m a Pisces and that’s why I gotta go home.

Why can't someone be this devoted to me!?!?! 😩😭😤

DARK DEVOTION || Void Stiles 'Teen Wolf'

Pairing — Void Stiles x gender neutral reader

Summary — A love story written in blood and whispers. Void courts you in his own twisted way and you like it.

Memo —I am currently half awake and I refuse to go to sleep so boredom prompted me to write this.

Word Count —1050

Warnings — You're arguably as insane as Void. Dark Themes, Blood/Gore, Possessiveness/Obsessive Behaviour, Murder/Death (implied killings), Mild Body Horror (descriptions of blood and injuries), Stalking/Watching.

I. The First Gift

The first time it happens, you don’t think much of it.

You step outside one morning, the world still wrapped in the quiet hush of dawn. The air is crisp, the sky painted with the soft hues of early sunrise. Then, your eyes fall to the ground.

A gift.

A crow, its throat slit cleanly, feathers still damp with fresh blood. Its wings are splayed open, and nestled between them is a single white flower—delicate, untouched by the violence surrounding it.

Something in your chest tightens. Not in fear. Not in disgust. But in something else.

You kneel, fingertips grazing the petals. The stark contrast between death and beauty is... intentional. A deliberate display.

A courtship.

And there’s only one creature twisted enough to offer it to you.

You should be terrified. You should scream, recoil, run. But instead, you pluck the flower from the corpse and twirl it between your fingers.

When you glance up, you aren’t surprised to see him watching from the treeline.

Void.

The thing wearing Stiles’ face.

He smirks when your eyes meet. A sharp, knowing thing. His head tilts, dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

You say nothing. Neither does he. But in that silence, something shifts.

And the game begins.

II. The Second Gift

The next offering comes two nights later.

You return home late, the weight of exhaustion pressing against your shoulders. But when you step inside, you freeze.

A velvet box rests on your kitchen counter. No note, no explanation.

You know better than to open it. You do.

And yet, your fingers move before your mind can stop them.

The lid lifts with an eerie sort of grace, revealing a heart inside—dark, wet, and still warm.

Your stomach doesn’t churn. Your hands don’t tremble. You stare for a long moment before exhaling a slow breath.

"This is getting dramatic," you murmur.

A chuckle ghosts over your shoulder. You don’t jump.

"Did you think I’d be subtle?" Void’s voice is a velvet whisper, coiling around you like smoke. "I am trying to woo you, after all."

You close the box and turn to face him. He leans lazily against the doorway, all sharp smirks and dark amusement.

"Woo me," you repeat, deadpan. "With body parts?"

Void pushes off the frame, stepping closer. "They weren’t yours," he points out. "Shouldn’t that count for something?"

You hold his gaze, unflinching. His eyes are endless, drowning pools of black.

Slowly, you place the flower he gave you the other day behind your ear.

His smirk falters. Just for a fraction of a second. But you see it.

Then, his grin returns, sharper than before.

"Oh," he breathes. "You do understand."

III. The Third Gift

After that, the gifts escalate.

You wake to whispers in the night, cold fingers brushing over your skin before vanishing like mist. A shadow lingers just beyond your vision, moving when you move, watching when you sleep.

A blade, elegant and wickedly sharp, appears on your pillow one morning. Its hilt is carved with symbols you don’t recognize, its edge stained faintly with something dark.

"I made it for you," Void hums when you confront him later that night.

"You made me a weapon?"

"You deserve something beautiful," he replies smoothly. "Something deadly."

His fingers brush your wrist, and the room tilts for half a second. Not physically. Not really. But there’s a pull—something unnatural, something his.

"Do you like it?" he asks, voice soft but dangerous.

You turn the blade in your grip, watching how the light catches on the metal.

And then you smile.

Void inhales sharply. His pupils blow wide.

"You’re enjoying this," he realizes.

You lift a brow. "And you’re not?"

His answering grin is feral.

IV. The Fourth Gift

You don’t find the next offering. It finds you.

One evening, as you step out of your usual coffee shop, someone stumbles in front of you. A man, pale and shaking, his shirt stained with blood.

"H–help me," he rasps.

Your eyes flicker down. A deep gash runs along his abdomen, fresh and brutal.

Your pulse remains steady.

A dark chuckle echoes nearby, and Void emerges from the alley, hands in his pockets.

"He hurt you once, didn’t he?" he muses, tilting his head at the man. "Called you a slur. Pushed you at a bar. Thought I forgot?"

The man trembles violently, eyes darting between you and the monster in Stiles’ skin.

You exhale through your nose, tilting your head. "This is a bit much, even for you."

Void pouts. "You wound me."

Your gaze shifts to the man, who is on the verge of collapse. You don’t feel sorry for him, not really.

But you do feel something.

Something close to intrigue.

You step forward, slow and deliberate, and crouch in front of the bleeding man. He flinches.

Then, ever so gently, you press your fingers to his wound.

He whimpers in pain.

Void lets out a breath that sounds like a growl.

"You’re insane," the man chokes out.

You smile at him. Then glance back at Void.

"You didn’t kill him yet," you muse. "Why?"

Void crouches beside you, resting his chin on your shoulder. His breath ghosts against your ear.

"Because I wanted to share."

You don’t move for a long moment.

Then, slowly, you stand.

Void follows your lead, dark eyes never leaving yours.

And without another word, you step aside.

An invitation.

Void’s smirk is wicked. His fingers graze your wrist as he passes, a silent thank you.

The man screams.

And you don’t look away.

V. The Claiming

Void presses you against the wall that night, his hands caging you in. His touch is cool, unnatural, but you don’t pull away.

"Say something," he murmurs, voice sharp with frustration. "Tell me to stop. Tell me you hate this."

You meet his gaze, unflinching. "I won’t."

His fingers tighten on your jaw, nails biting into your skin. "Why not?"

You smirk, tilting your head just enough to brush your lips against his.

"Because I like it."

Void stills. Then, his lips curl into something almost hungry.

"Oh," he breathes, amusement laced with something far darker. "I knew I picked the right one."

And when he kisses you, it’s possessive. A promise.

You’re his now.

You always were.

soulmate au part 1

john price x f!reader

wc: 1.2k

unedited, forgive my mistakes.

since you were born, your world has been grey. you never thought anything of it, until at school, they started teaching you colours. the only ones in the room that could see more than just different shades of grey, apart from the teacher, were identical twins.

weird.

you went home and asked your parents.

"we are born missing half of ourselves. we have a fated one, and when you meet them, your world will look the way it was meant to."

oh. but... "in class, there were twins that could see colour. what about them?"

they look surprised for a second until your dad softly explains. "in rare instances, the soulmate bond will be platonic. which makes sense in this case, because twins grow up with a connection regular people like us will never understand."

you nod and lower your gaze to look at your shoes. you wonder if the person meant for you is interested in junie b. jones books like you are.

-

in high school, you crush on this pretty girl— a cheerleader. her hair is long and beautiful, her face is small and round, and she's so kind. just your type.

but no colour stains your vision, so you burrow your emotions deep and mourn the loss of what could've been.

-

in college, one of your friends ask you if you've met your soulmate yet.

"no, not yet," you lament. what she says after freezes the blood in your veins.

"my mom knew someone whose soulmate was already dead before they had even been born," she comments while stabbing a grape tomato with her fork. "it was really tragic, because she'll never know what it's like to know a love that has no equal."

your heart is in your throat, and you find it hard to swallow the food in your mouth.

what if your soulmate is already dead? oh, god. you might just throw up. your friend doesn't seem to notice the change in your demeanor and continues to babble carelessly about how she knew someone that knew someone who's soulmate had turned out to be a murderer.

oh my fucking god.

you quickly run to the bathroom and throw up your lunch.

how cruel is the universe? to have no control over who is meant to be for you.

you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and lean against the stall of the bathroom. you should've known that this soulmate business was too good to be true.

cupping your hands, you rinse the taste of bile out of your mouth before walking back to your friend who stayed in her seat.

"jesus, you look terrible, you alright?" she asks.

running your fingers through your hair, you huff. "i've certainly been better. just got a bit nauseous, nothing serious. maybe it's a stomach bug."

"oooh, you better not be pregnant! what of your dreams of working in the medical field?"

you giggle at her response. "that'd be impossible unless i'm the virgin mary."

she gapes comically then leans in and whispers, "you're lying! don't tell me you haven't dated anyone just because they weren't your soulmate."

you shrug, and keep your eyes fixed on your half-eaten plate of food. "i don't really wanna talk about it, if that's alright with you. besides, you've got bigger things to worry about, like the upcoming exam for mr. richardson."

slapping a hand to her forehead, she exclaims, "oh, shit! i totally forgot! shit!"

you watch her inhale the rest of her salad and toss her trash before waving goodbye and sprinting toward the library.

with a sigh, you look down at your food. grey. lifeless. shaking your head, you pick up your plate and toss it in the bin.

you decide to focus solely on your studies. you have dreams of being a doctor and pining after someone you haven't even met yet would only serve as a distraction.

--

your white coat grazes your calves as you walk toward your new patient. standing outside the room, you pick up the clipboard.

Price, John. 34, Active Military.

he's the head of the task force! god, you've only heard stories of them from the other medics on base who have met them, so to finally come face to face with the man, the myth, the legend? you wipe your clammy hands on the fabric of your scrubs and clear your throat.

be professional, be professional. he's just another patient, it's no big deal.

rapping your knuckles on the door, you wait a second before twisting the knob with a shaky hand. you nervously keep your eyes on the clipboard as you walk in.

"good morning, captain price."

"mornin', doc," he rumbles.

oh, his deep voice just might be the end of you.

"you don't sound all that happy to be here, captain," you tease while flipping through his medical history papers.

he lets out a low chuckle, and you squeeze your thighs together at the sound. delicious.

"nothin' personal, doc. just don't like bein' here, you understand."

lightly laughing at his joke, you finally steel your nerves and look up at him.

only to have your vision bleed in something you don't understand. is that colour? is this what colour looks like?

the clipboard drops, clattering to the floor. john— being the courteous gentleman that he is— quickly kneels to grab it and lifts his head as he hands it to you.

he freezes in place, the clipboard slipping from his hands as he stares at you.

you thickly swallow, and dumbly question, "do you...has your....colour? can you see colour?"

unblinking, john's eyes are fixated on you as he remains silent.

your eyes dart around to take in his features. his brightly-coloured eyes are framed by lines that hint at his age, his strong jaw adorned by a mutton-chop beard. his nose is specked with a beauty mark.

"what colour are your eyes, captain?" you softly ask.

he closes his mouth and takes in a sharp breath. "i've been told they're blue."

"blue," you smile. the eyes of your soulmate are blue.

but then, your delighted smile melts off your face, in horror.

there's a shiny band on his finger. he's married.

john price, your soulmate, is fucking married.

your vision distorts with the tears that threaten to spill and bite your bottom lip to stop it from trembling. it feels like there are shards of glass in your lungs, cutting you open with each quivering breath you take. your pain is red-hot, searing under your skin, flowing through your veins like molten lead.

john knows exactly what you're looking at.

"love—" he starts but you cut him off swiftly.

"don't. you don't owe me anything, captain. uhm, but uh... maybe it's best that we switch your doctors, yeah? conflict of interest, and all that."

you all but run away, away from that room, from him.

how terribly unlucky.

you head towards your office, which is down the hall, and slam the door closed. only then, do you cry, and mourn what should've been.

Quick question,

What's a good paint to go over tape? I got asked to paint a welding mask for someone at work and we laid duct tape over the face but I don't know what type of paint would work best, anyone have an idea?? I got no idea where to start......