are you trying to shrug

#can we just take a moment to picture the double dates#magnus is just so amused and giggly#alec’s half trying and giving the ‘what do you want from me?’ look to izzy#WHO HAS HER ARMS CROSSED BC YOU TWO ARE GOING TO GET ALONG#and simon’s just standing there giving the awkward 'what can you do?’ shrug to magnus#i’m so in love with this tiny moment

Freaky Friday: Part 2

Remus: *chokes* W-WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?

Remus: *gapes* NO! You don’t look good… because you are me. That is ME, Sirius!!! That is me covered in… MERLIN SIRIUS, those tattoos are horrible! 

Sirius: *shrugs* I’ve been trying to get you to spice up your look for ages… *smirks* Perfect opportunity amiright? 

Remus: I look stupid. 

Sirius: Correction. I… you… we look fantastic. 

Sirius: Your skin is soft. 

Remus: *looks up and freezes* 

Sirius: *grins and lets his hand drop* Well, if you’ll excuse you… you’ve got some “stuff” to attend to. 

Remus: … W-what stuff? Sirius? What stuff!? 

*Sirius struts from the room, leaving several pairs of eyes trailing after him* 

Mary: *looks like she’s going to have an aneurism* Is it just me… or is Remus… like… really… *sweats* … confident… lately? 

James: *snorts from his position in the corner* 

To Be Continued

a 3x08 Coliver coda - ao3

Spotting him through the glass, Oliver was up and across the room before Connor had even gotten through the ER’s sliding doors. 

“Oh my god. Thank God! You’re alright, you’re alive,” he nearly cried as he wrapped his arms around Connor, crushing the man close in a hard embrace. “I was so worried,” Oliver whispered, tears of relief filling his eyes. “So worried. The news—there was a body and Bonnie—she didn’t—and then you didn’t answer your phone and Michaela didn’t know where you were and I just—” 

“I’m fine,” Connor said cooly, placing a hand on Oliver’s torso to hold the man back as he stepped away. “I’m okay.” 

Too preoccupied with the joy of Connor, alive and well and standing before him, Oliver didn’t seem to notice how his ex was extracting himself from his embrace. “I was just so worried. I didn’t—”

“Why?” Connor asked cooly. 

Oliver blinked. “What?” 

“Why were you worried?” Connor asked again, eyes flat and cool. 

“Why was I…?” Oliver trailed off, eyes puzzling over Connor’s face. “Be…because we didn’t know where you were and…and the fire and the body…and you didn’t have your phone.” Remembering that, how Connor’s phone was still in Michaela’s purse, Oliver tilted his head to the side. “How’d you know to come here?” 

“Micaela’s mom,” he answered. “She’s at the apartment. Said there’d been a fire or something and that Michaela’d gone to the hospital.” The corner of Connor’s lip quirked up, a ghost of a smirk. “Scared the shit out me when I opened the door.” 

“Right.” Oliver nodded absently. He didn’t care about Michaela’s mother. “Good thing she was there.” Fingertips itching again, he reached to cup Connor’s cheek. “Con—”

Connor stepped back again, evading Oliver’s touch. “Aren’t you going to ask where I was?” 

Oliver shook his head and settled for holding the lapels of Connor’s jacket in both hands. “It doesn’t matter. All that mat—” 

“I was with Thomas,” Connor told him, eyes still flat and cold. 

Keep reading

I have watched this scene a thousand times and I remember the very first time I watched it and my heart still does the same funny thing.

I remember absolutely losing my shit at the shot of the flowers in the air and I was like “OMG BRENNAN’S GONNA CATCH THE BOUQUET. ARE THEY ACTUALLY GOING THERE. ARE THEY GOING TO DO IT???????? OMGGGG.” And they teased us with the slow mo shot, heh. (When I rewatch this scene, I STILL get that anticipation of excitement.)


I adore that she looks back at Booth,who just does an adorable smile/half shrug, trying to seem nonchalant when you know he’s screaming on the inside, like all of us. HAHAHA.

No, but seriously, the marriage arc on Bones was just perfect, there was NEVER a single instance when Booth pestered Brennan about marriage. The ball was in her court all the way through, and Booth absolutely would have been fine if they had never married in the end (”I LOVE EVERYDAY.”) A testament to how much Booth loves her but also a point of great character development for Booth, who was once fixated on the idea that he HAD to get married. (Arguably, you could say that his change of heart was because Brennan was the only one who really mattered, which is equally valid, but I like to think that Booth learnt something from his previous mistakes).

And here, Brennan was not horrified at the thought of catching the flowers; marriage no longer seems like such an awful concept when it’s in relation to Booth ;)


Derek x Reader

Requested by @g0back2bed

You grinned as you walked into the penthouse for the pack meeting and found Derek stood uncomfortably across the room. You loved to wind him up. In fact, it was practically what got you through the boarding meeting, especially ones like tonight when Scott seemed hell bent on having the entire pack fall asleep.

Stiles snickered when you gave Derek a flirty wave and the wolf glared at you, other than that, he remained immobile and expressionless.

“You think you can actually get him flustered?” Stiles whispered and you smirked.

“If I do, you owe me curly fries.” You smiled when he rolled his eyes and nodded.

Keep reading

“What a small world.”

Superfriends Superbowl

It’s Maggie’s idea.

“Come on, Danvers, it’ll be fun. Something you’re not an expert in for once, plus all the commercials to yell at? Good beer, good food, good people? It’ll be like game night, except the game’s on TV.”

“Are you trying to tell me you’re a football fan, Sawyer?”

Maggie shrugs flirtatiously, and Alex beams. Because Alex loves learning new layers to Maggie.

“College ball was big where I’m from. And, hey, hot cheerleaders.”

Alex mock scowls, and heat pools in Maggie’s core.

“Really, Sawyer.”

“You bet, Danvers,” Maggie snickers, stepping back slowly, sexily, because Alex is backing her into the wall, and Alex is shoving her against it, now, and Maggie’s head tilts back as she moans at Alex’s lips on her neck.

“Hot cheerleaders,” Alex repeats in a growl, and Maggie snickers.

“None of them nearly as hot as you, Danvers,” Maggie capitulates, and Alex smirks.

“Superbowl party it is, then. I’ll invite the gang,” she smiles brightly, walking away quickly and leaving Maggie breathless and wrecked against the wall.

And she’s back on the wall, again, the next Sunday night, as Winn gestures wildly with his beer at the TV, shouting about how it makes no sense, if they’re going to ram themselves into each other like that, they should at least have efficient suits, and James is reminding him that they’re not suits, they’re uniforms, equipment, and Kara is laughing and J’onn is rolling his eyes and Alex is digging deeply into the seltzer Maggie’s gotten her really into.

She’s been to her share of Superbowl parties before. Wild college affairs punctuated with even wilder sex in the bathroom, awkward affairs at the home of one of the guys in her precinct, and, of course, the extravaganzas in Blue Springs, featuring her cooking up a storm and dodging drunken uncles and inquisitive neighbors wanting to know when she’s finally going to stop spending more time with things like football and more time with things like boys.

But she’s never been to a Superbowl party that felt quite like… home.

She’d made Kara homemade potstickers, over Winn’s loud and playful objections that potstickers aren’t Superbowl food and doesn’t your sports knowledge stop basically before it begins, Schott? and awww, leave him alone, Alex, he’s trying, look, he’s wearing my Cam Newton jersey and Maggie are they ready yet and can’t rush the magic, Little Danvers and well the magic would be a little faster if there was less magic going on under the counter, don’t think I don’t see where your hands are, Danvers and oh my god, Winn, I didn’t need to hear that and good god why is Cadmus choosing this night of all nights to not attack somewhere or other?

She’d made Winn homemade pineapple and jalapeño pizza, herself her own cheeseless version, and ordered for the rest of them because it’s not my fault the rest of your taste palates have been killed by fast food joints, and James and Alex took turns getting things down from high shelves for her and James even scooped her up at one point, much to her surprised delight, because she’d never been in a man’s arms that made her feel safe, that made her feel light and happy and playful, but Alex was giggling and Kara was squealing and Winn was yelling for them to freeze so he could take a picture and J’onn was I thought the point was to watch the sport, not create our own in the kitchen.

She’d yelled at the racism and xenophobia in the newest movie trailers with James and she’d beamed when Alex staunchly agreed, and she’d drawn Alex into an open-mouthed kiss that had Kara squealing and James and Winn whooping and J’onn diverting his eyes whenever gay couples were featured in commercials, and she’d drooled and barely restrained herself from taking her girlfriend then and there when Alex slipped into the bedroom to put on her glasses and Maggie’s spare Kaepernick jersey, claiming well this is actually fun and I wanna get in the spirit, and hey, gotta see properly, right?

So now, she’s leaning back, holding up the wall, and she’s watching the people she’s assembled instead of the game she’d used as an excuse to have them all over, to cook for them, to hear them laugh, to make them smile.

Alex catches her eye and arches a questioning eyebrow, and Maggie smiles broadly, softly, and shakes her head. Alex nods, because she understands when Maggie gets overwhelmed and needs to pull back, and when Maggie keeps holding her eyes with her own, Alex knows it’ll be okay to say what she needs to say.

“I love you,” she mouths, and Maggie beams.

“You too, Danvers.”

J’onn notices and exchanges glances with a beaming Kara.

“How’s it feel to get another daughter, J’onn?” she asks him softly, her hand on his arm as James cheers a Falcons touchdown and Maggie laughs when Winn and Alex both ask what happened.

J’onn watches the laughter dance across Maggie’s face, and looks at the bottle of seltzer in Alex’s hand, the glasses – which she would never wear in front of people before Maggie, not ever – on her face, her girlfriend’s Kaepernick jersey on her back, the relaxed smile on her face, the easy laughter, easier than J’onn had ever seen it spilling from his girl’s lips.

“Not bad, Supergirl. Not bad at all.”

I Don't Love You: 3

A/N: So, here is the third installment of what was originally a oneshot. You can read the second part here and I hope you all enjoy this part, too!
Warnings: Angst, swearing, crying, fluff.

“What did he want?” Steve asked as you sat back down beside him, chewing on your lip. “I think he might be a little jealous.” You confessed, and Steve looked at you with a strange expression on his face. “Why would he be jealous?” He wondered, and you shrugged. “He thinks that I’m going to try and sleep with you for some sort of revenge.” You told him honestly, and he shook his head slowly. “And he apparently has a surprise for me that involves me meeting him in his room in ten minutes.” You continued, and Steve let out a long sigh. “Y/N… you know he doesn’t deserve you, don’t you?” He asked softly, and you let out a sad chuckle as you pushed your hair back. “I just can’t help but wonder what went wrong..” You whispered, and you suddenly felt Steve’s arm wrap around your shoulders.

“Why do you assume it was something you did, doll?” You could feel tears stinging the back of your eyes and you took in a shuddering breath. “It has to be something I did, right? Why wasn’t I enough for him?” You asked, your voice breaking. Steve’s grip on you tightened as he pulled you into his chest, his lips pressing to the top of your head. “And when I left, I thought I could just forget, move on.. but I wasn’t who I wanted to be, without him. I was a fucking zombie, Steve. I-I agreed to marry someone on a whim because I didn’t want to be alone, and then I-I just destroyed him, too.” You admitted, and Steve stayed silent, waiting for you to continue. “Is this what I’m meant for? Constant destruction and heartbreak?” You breathed, and he pressed another kiss to your head.

“I can deal with it, the pain, when I’m around other people.. I’m fine as long as I’m distracted.. I can pretend I’m happy..” you paused, wiping a tear from your cheek. “But when I’m alone, and I turn off the lights.. I swear it could kill me.. I would give anything to just go back in time and fix whatever I did, do whatever I could to be enough.. I’m so tired of sleeping alone, Steve.” You whispered, tears falling from your eyes quickly. “Y/N, doll.” He gripped your chin gently, turning you to face him. His eyes searched yours for what seemed like hours before he spoke. “You deserve to be happy. Really happy. And one day, you’ll be loved like you’ve never known.” His thumb rubbed your cheek tenderly. “I swear to you, you were meant for so much more than this.” He whispered, and you smiled up at him through your tears, placing your hand over his. “What would I do without you, Stevie?” You asked hoarsely.

He let you rest your head on his shoulder for a few moments so you could calm down. You couldn’t deny the way your heart fluttered when he pressed soft kisses to your temple and nuzzled his face into your hair. “I should probably go see what he wanted.” You told him softly, and he nodded reluctantly. You stood slowly, straightening out your sweater. “Y/N?” He asked, and you looked down at his puzzled expression. “If you need me… for anything.. don’t hesitate to come to me, okay?” He told you, and you nodded. “Thanks, Stevie.” You whispered, leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before you turned to head back inside the building.

You took your time walking to Bucky’s room, your heart racing the entire time. What could he have planned for you? Was this some sort of sick ploy to get you in his bed again? Because that definitely wasn’t happening.

When you finally approached his door, you knocked softly, jumping when the door opened almost immediately. “Y/N.” Bucky breathed when he saw you, and you forced a small smile. “Hello.” You whispered. He opened the door further so you could step in, and you had to stifle a gasp when you saw what was in front of you.

He’d laid out dozens of candles around his room, that being the only light inside. There were several vases of roses placed strategically around the room, and you could also smell that he’d been burning incense. He closed the door behind you before coming over to stand in front of you. “What is all of this, Bucky?” You asked him softly, and he smiled shyly. “We never did.. celebrate our anniversary, you know..” he told you, and you felt a pang in your chest. “Bucky.. we.. I don’t want to do this with you.” You whispered, feeling the familiar sensation of tears forming in the back of your eyes. You could see his heart break in his eyes as he stared at you.

“Is this because of Steve?” He asked, his tone harsh, but quiet. You shook your head, wrapping your arms around yourself. “This has nothing to do with Steve. This is about us.” You told him, regretting the words as soon as they left your lips, and hope lit up his eyes. “Us?” He wondered, taking a step towards you. You swallowed, hard, digging your nails into your arms through your sleeves. Just get it over with. “Bucky..” You started, clearing your throat. He was now only mere inches away from you, and you had to close your eyes so you could control yourself.

“I.. I don’t think this is going to work out, like you want it to.” You told him softly. “Y/N..” He started to speak, but you cut him off by holding your index finger up. “Let me get this out, please.” You breathed, and you heard him huff. You opened your eyes, tears shining in them as you looked up at him. “I’m never going to be enough for you, Buck.. and I’ve come to terms with that. It took me a long while to understand it… but I know that’s why you cheated on me. There was something missing, with us, that you found with her..” You told him, and he shook his head, gripping your shoulders as he pulled you closer. “What I did was not your fault, Y/N. I was a fucking idiot, okay? Don’t you dare blame yourself.” He practically growled, and you let out a sad chuckle. “You know, Buck.. you were the greatest thing that ever happened to me..” You breathed, and his eyes softened as he bit into his lip.

You wiped your cheeks quickly, blinking a few times. “I would’ve married you, you know.” You whispered, almost inaudible. You heard him suck in a breath, and then his hands cupped your face, forcing you to look at him. “We can get back to that. We can. I’ll do anything, Y/N, please.” He begged, but you shook your head. “You lost me, babe.” You told him, and he slowly sank to his knees in front of you. “There’s.. there’s nothing I can do..?” He asked you slowly, and you sunk your teeth into your lip as you looked down at him.

You could see the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes, and your heart ached for him. You did love him, so much. All of your feelings were still there, you just weren’t sure what to do with them, now. He gripped your thighs right above your knees as his head fell forward, resting on your hip gently. “Please.. I’m.. I’m so sorry..” he whispered, and you felt a fresh wave of tears hit you as you placed your hand in his hair gently, missing the way it felt between your fingers. “You’ll be okay, Buck..” You told him softly, and he shook his head against you. “I waited an entire year for you.. I can wait a little longer.”

You let out a sigh as he stood up slowly, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders. “I don’t want you to wait for me, Bucky..” You insisted, but he shook his head before resting his forehead against yours. “I love you, Y/N.” You shut your eyes, letting out a shaky breath. “And I know you love me too.” He continued, and you shook your head, “How do you know that?” You wondered, and his hands made their way up your neck, to your jaw. “Because if you didn’t, you wouldn’t let me do this.”

He pressed his lips to yours softly, and you whimpered at the contact before you found yourself melting into it. He was so familiar, so comfortable. Your lips moved against his, your mouth parting open slightly as his tongue swiped across your lower lip. Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging gently as you felt fresh tears fall from your eyes. His left hand moved down to your back, pulling your body closer to his as he continued to kiss you, making you feel lightheaded and your heart swell.

You pushed him away from you after a moment, both of you struggling to catch your breath. “I.. I have to go.” You told him, biting back a sob. “Y/N.” he came towards you, his beautiful eyes shining in the candlelight, but you shook your head, turning and walking out of the room.

You hurried down the hallways to your room, your vision blinded by your tears. Why did he do this to you? Why did you let him do this to you? You were so stupid.

You were so caught up in your own thoughts, stumbling through the dark, that you didn’t even notice someone walking towards you, and you collided with them suddenly. “Y/N?” It was Steve, and as you looked up at him, the dam containing your tears broke. You threw yourself into his arms, sobbing loudly, and he immediately wrapped his arms around you, picking you up. “Shhh.” He soothed as you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist. You heard more footsteps in the hallway, and felt Steve’s muscles tense under you. “Is she okay?” Is was Bucky’s voice that spoke. “Does she look okay, Buck?” Steve asked, his voice as cold as steel. You sniffled, hiding your face in the crook of Steve’s neck. “You know, Buck. I think it might be best if you leave Y/N alone.” Steve spoke again, a warning in his voice as his grip on you tightened.

“I think we both know that isn’t going to happen.”

Originally posted by mrsawkwardseb

Originally posted by stupidteletubbie

TAGS: @dellabellas @girl-next-door-writes @hollycornish @sarahfhealy @imagine-this-motherfucker @maximoff-owned @ackles-got-snackles @heismyhunter
  • *a crime scene*
  • Greg: *shaking his head* This is wrong.
  • John: *shrugs* I know but what can we do?
  • Baby Holmes: *trots past, waving Sherlock's magnifying glass; giggling madly*
  • Sherlock: *following; rambling about soil samples*
  • Greg: *rubs the back of his neck* Molly's going to kill him.
  • John: *nods* She's knows what she got into, though.
  • Baby Holmes: *points at the corpse* Deaded!
  • Sherlock: *beaming with pride, scoops her up and gives her a big kiss* That's my clever girl!
  • Greg: *sighs* He's not even sorry, is he?
  • John: Nope.
  • Sherlock: *approaching, his daughter now strapped to his chest; proud af* She found the blood, the weapon and the missing wallet. My little detective. Brilliant, isn't she?
  • Greg & John: *exchange glances*

Imagine: Bucky watching you get asked out by someone else.

Jealous!Bucky x reader


“What’s up Sam?”

“I need to get something out of my system.”


“Would you like to go out sometime…as a date?”

“I- uh sorry but no, I’m actually with Buck.” I quickly lie.

“Uh, oh. My bad.” Sam says trudging off.

“It’s not good to lie Doll.” Bucky’s voice rings out from behind the counter. “But why was I you’re first choice?” I shrug in response looking away trying to keep him from seeing me blush.

Buck smirks, as he steps closer.
“If you’re willing to be my girlfriend…” Bucky trails. “I’d be all your’s.”

“Then you’re mine James.” I say wrapping my arms around his waist, pulling him towards me as his metal fingers grip the side of my head, forcing me to stare into his bright blue eyes.

“I’m perfectly fine with that.” Buck says as his lips brush over mine before pressing to mine. Bucky’s human arm wraps itself around my waist pulling me closer, as if he’s attempting to absorb me,(though I wouldn’t be surprised). His hands find my hips, pulling my legs around his waist. He keeps the metal arm under me, to support my weight.
“I’ll have you all to myself.” His voice growls, low in the back of his throat.

Perfect Pitch

A SnowBaz fic for the Carry On Countdown


I have never been musically gifted.  I’ve tried to learn various instruments in the past, but I can never really get an understanding of it.  Playing notes and making music are not the same thing.

           And yet here I am, sitting on my bed, plucking determinedly at an ukulele.  

           Every string I strum sounds horrible, and I can’t tell if it’s out of tune or if I’m just completely tone-deaf.  Could be that.

           “What are you doing, Snow?”

           I turn.  Baz is at the door, shrugging off his coat.

           I shrug.  “Trying something new.”

           “Where did you get that?”

           “I brought it from home.”  If one could call it that.  Just because I lived there over the summer doesn’t make it home.  If anything Watford, magic, is my home, and that is certainly not where I found the ukulele.

           “Well, it sounds awful.”

           “I know,” I grimace, strumming another sour chord. I don’t even know if my fingers are in the right places to play a real chord.  Nothing has sounded right so far.

           Suddenly I have an idea.

           “Baz,” I look up at him as he moves toward his bed, “aren’t you a musician?”

           He looks wary.  “Yes.”

           “Could you make this wretched instrument not sound so bloody awful?”

           He considers me for a minute, then reaches over and takes the ukulele gingerly.  It’s made of a light wood and it stands out against all the black he wears. My sworn enemy holding the cheeriest of all instruments.  It’s an odd contrast.

           He brushes a thumb over the strings and winces. “It’s horribly out of tune.”

           “That explains a lot.”

           “Are you really so tone-deaf that you hadn’t noticed?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at me.  I think it’s meant to be condescending, but it doesn’t really come across that way.  It’s mostly just curious.  He must be in a good mood today.

           Or maybe he’s too tired to fight.  

           Wouldn’t that be nice.

           “I guess I am.”

           He looks back down at the instrument and starts turning the pegs at the end, plucking one string at a time and moving the pitch up and down until he’s satisfied with it.  Concentration furrows his brow and he stares at nothing in particular as he listens.  I try to sit as quietly as I can.  Rain pounds on the roof and I want to tell it to shut up so that he can hear.

           Several agonizing minutes later he passes it back to me.  I give it a strum, and for the first time it actually sounds like a playable instrument. Better, in fact, like even someone like me could make music off of it.

           “Thanks,” I marvel.  “How did you do that without a tuner?”

           He points at his ear, looking down at the floor. “Perfect pitch.”

           Of course you fucking have perfect pitch.

           “Oh,” I say, nodding.  “Well, thanks.”  I strum the strings a few more times, enjoying the sound.

           “Put your middle finger on the third fret of the first string,” Baz mutters, staring at his phone.

           “Um, what?”

           He looks up.  “Middle finger, third fret, first string.”  I stare back at him blankly.  “You don’t know what any of that means, do you?”


           “Crowley,” he whispers.  “Pass it here.”  He takes it from me and demonstrates.  

When he strums, the ukulele finally makes music.  A clean, clear note rings through our room.  He passes it back to me and after a moment of fumbling, I produce the same sound.  “C chord,” he murmurs.  I grin at the instrument and play the chord again.

           “What else?” I ask.


           “Give me another chord,” I invite, “teach me something.”

           He looks like he doesn’t want to, but then he takes the ukulele again.  He places his fingers in a much more complicated position and plays another note. It sounds lovely, but when I try it comes out like a goose in mourning.

           “Wrong fret,” he says.  “Your first finger should be on the second fret.  Pass it here again.”

           “Just position my fingers.”

           He blinks.  “What?”

           “We can’t keep passing it back and forth, that would be ridiculous,” I reason.  “Just come over here and help me.”

           “I’m not going to position your fingers for you, Snow.”

           I shrug.  “Fine.”  I stretch my hand to a painful extent and place my fingers in the most distorted position I can manage before strumming hard.  A horrible sound comes coughing out of the instrument.  Baz gives me a look like he’s waiting for me to stop acting like a child.  I raise my eyebrows at him like I’ll stop when he gets his arse over here.

           He stands.  “Fuck you,” he sighs, dropping onto my bed, causing me to bounce up and down. I try not to smirk as he reaches his left arm around me to move my fingers into place.  After a few tries, a much nicer chord is filling the room.  “That’s E minor,” he informs me.  I play C and E minor in succession.  They sound incomplete.  Nice, but incomplete.  

           “What next?”

           “Middle finger on the second fret of the bottom string, that’s A minor.”

           We work slowly through a series of chords until I’m stuttering my way through what could almost be called a song.  Baz moves my fingers as little as possible, like touching me repulses him.  It probably does.  His face is beside my ear as I work through the succession, and he breathes the chord names along the way.

           “I didn’t know you played ukulele,” I muse.

           “I’ve only dabbled,” he shrugs, “I can play a few songs.”  He takes my right wrist and sets it strumming to a simple rhythm.  In between chords I can hear that the rain has stopped.  We’ve chased it away.

           “Go ahead, then,” I say, passing the ukulele back to him.  He gives it a trial strum before going into the pattern he’s been teaching me.  Of course, it sounds a million times better when he plays.  His touch is more delicate and soft than mine, like instead of making music himself he’s coaxing the instrument to sing, like they’re partners, fully reliant on one another.  

           I don’t know if he’s aware of it, but he starts humming, and now I recognize the song.  The combination of the airy chords and his voice are like a lullaby.  I can practically feel all the tension easing from my mind.  It’s just us and our music, and for once we’re not fighting.

           Perhaps I like this better than fighting.

           “Can’t Help Falling In Love,” I murmur.  He nods.  “Good choice.”

           Baz meets my gaze.  His eyes are calm, like the music has forced the storm inside them to become smooth, like glass.

           I can’t look away from them.

           Why can’t I look away from them?

           Luckily I don’t have to.  He turns away after a matter of seconds.  I shake my head to clear it.

           “Keep practicing,” he mutters, placing the ukulele on my lap and putting on his shoes.  

           I don’t say anything as he leaves.  

           I stay exactly where I am, long after he’s gone.

           I feel like I’ve fallen into that sea of glass, like I’m immobilized and drifting into a calm sleep.

           I can still feel his fingers on mine.  They were gentle, like he was afraid.

           I think right now I’d be afraid to touch him.

           And for some inexplicable reason, that thought has me smiling.

Imagine Dean being turned on by the way you eat.

“Here ya go, sweetheart,” the waiter smiles at you as he sets a plate of ribs in front of you, “It’s nice to see a girl with a good appetite.” He winks at you, before putting down Dean’s plate hastily in front of the hunter.

“Thanks, we’re going to need more napkins,” you smile politely, wanting him to go away. He nods and walks away.

“What a douchebag,” Dean grumbles, taking a sip from his beer.

“Why? Cause’ he was flirting with me? I am single, Dean,” you point out, “Plus, I don’t see anyone else trying to snatch me up,” shrugging you look down at the large plate of food. You were damn famished after a long two day hunt with Dean, it was nice to have an actual meal.

“Just enjoy your food, sweetheart,” Dean smiles, not wanting to ruin the mood.

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“It’s getting real hot up here,” Jared laughed, getting to his feet and taking his jacket off.

“Yeah, take it off!” you heckled from the side of the stage, and Jared paused, looking over at you before pulling his arm out.

“I can’t go anywhere without you trying to get me to strip, can I?” he teased, and you shrugged.

“Can you blame me?” you grinned, the crowd laughing and cheering, “I love your body.”

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Reader x Klaus

Kings Masterlist

“Roman what’re you doing here?” Tyler asked when he stepped through the front door and found him waiting.


“(Y/N) where is she?” He snapped, not answering his friends question or even acknowledging his mother.


“Did you try calling her?” Tyler’s mother went to fuss over Roman who shrugged.


“She won’t answer her phone.” He spat and Tyler let out a snort of laughter.


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How V would react to you bringing handcuffs to bed

V’s youthful and playful nature means that a relationship with him will always be full of laughter and fun. The only thing he loves more than watching you struggle not to smile at one of his silly jokes is watching you break and dissolve into laughter.

The two of you would make the decision to get the handcuffs together.

“What’s that?” he’d ask, pointing to something on the shelf. “What do you do with it? Where does it go?”

You glance up from where you were inspecting the shop’s selection of handcuffs. “Where do you think it goes?” you reply, turning your attention back to handcuffs. You select one and put it in the basket just as V throws the item he had been studying into the basket too. You raise an eyebrow and he gives you a grin. “I think we should try it,” he says with a shrug, taking the basket from you.

Later that night you watch him as he walks around the room naked, blowing out the candles on the bedside tables.

“Why did we light so many candles? It’s a fire hazard,” he says with at tut. “No wonder the curtains nearly caught fire. Anyway, the point is, it should be you because it was your idea.”

He finishes blowing out the candles and hops back onto the bed, pulling your legs around him.

“No,” you gasp as you slide down the bed. “It should be you because it was my idea.”

V bends his head to nip at your thigh. “Ok, ok,” he says, turning to nip at the other thigh. “I have an idea.”

Ten minutes later you are both kneeling on the bed. Your hands are handcuffed behind you and V’s hands are tied behind him with an old tie.

“Hands free,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

You sigh, trying not to laugh. “We look like idiots.”

“It’s not about what we look like,” V says. “It’s about what it’s going to feel like.”

“And what exactly is it going to feel like?”

V shuffles towards you and tips himself on top of you.

“It’s going to feel… oops, hold on,” he squirms over your body until his head is above yours. He a looks at you darkly and a spike of pleasure runs up your spine. The feeling doesn’t lessen when his knee slips on the duvet and he loses his balance a bit.

“It’s going to feel amazing,” he breathes softly into your ear.

Originally posted by we--are--bulletproof


Prompt: “ Derek doing your makeup on you because he wants to try”

Requested by Anon

Word Count: Short

A/N: Thank you sooo much for the Derek request!! Derek is a favorite character of mine, and I barely get to write for him! So thanks!!

You were doing your makeup, when your boyfriend Derek Hale came in to check up on you.

“Y/N? What are you doing?” He asked smiling. You shrugged. “Just trying to put on makeup.” He kissed your cheek, and you rolled your eyes at him. “Dang it Derek! Don’t! You’re gonna mess up my highlight!” You exclaimed with a laugh. He furrowed his brows. “Um..what?” He asked.

You chuckled and rolled your eyes. “Wouldn’t expect you to understand Derek, makeup is an art after that you don’t understand.” You teased.
Derek rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “Oh, please. How hard can it be? I think I could handle it.” He smirked. You couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Well, alright then. Give it a shot." 

You replied, handing him a contouring brush, knowing he’d have no idea what to do with it. 

He took the brush from you, with such confidence. And pretended he knew what he was supposed to do, when he sat across from you. He looked clueless, you couldn’t help but smile. You pushed a contour palette towards him, and cleared your throat. 

Derek rolled his eyes, before smirking at you sarcastically. "Y/N, I knew which one it was.” You chuckled. “Yeah Derek, sure you did." 

Derek successfully did your makeup, but only because you were giving him hints the whole time, and basically telling him what to do.

"See? I told you I could do it.” He smirked as he stood up. You rolled your eyes and smiled, as you took a stand as well. You cupped his face, and he put his hands on your waist. 

“Yes Derek, let’s pretend that you did that all on your own. Good job!” You teased before kissing him. He rolled his eyes and smiled. 

“I didn’t need any help!” He assured you, but of course you didn’t believe him. You chuckled.

“Yeah, sure Derek. Keep telling yourself that.”