let me move away

Body Heat

Request: Can you write a Sirius Black x Reader but the reader is James’ sister and Sirius tries to flirt with the reader and James is all like are you flirting with my sister and Sirius fires back or something?
Warning(s): Bar scenes, drinking, swearing, intense hugging(?), major Sirius feels. Honestly, just look at the title.
Note: This is my first Marauders’ imagine, so feedback is appreciated.

⇢  A Sirius Black x Reader work where the reader is James’ younger twin sister.

Most brothers preferred to keep their social life separate from their siblings’. James Potter was no exception. Which is why, when Lily and Marlene urged you to meet the Marauders at the bar with them, you fervently declined.

“A bar? Filled to the brim with drunkards? James would never let me out of his sight,” you argued, moving away as Marlene approached you with a tube of lipstick. “I’m not going.”

She crossed her arms, her lower lip jutting out. “Please, Y/N.” Marlene gestured at your attire: Black hot pants and a long sleeved crop top. “You’re already dressed for it.”

You glared down at your outfit, tugging at the hem of your shorts. “I didn’t know you guys chose clothes for me to wear to a bar.”

“What did you think? Your arse is hanging out for tea with the Minister of Magic?”

Lily gave Marlene a warning look as you flushed a bright red. “Don’t listen to her, Y/N. Your arse is not hanging out.” She paused, giving you a once over. “Well…You’ll blend in, at least.”

You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “James is going to kill me.”

“So what?” Marlene interjected. “He’s your brother, not your dad. Who cares what he thinks?”

I do; he’s my brother.”

A slight snort came out from Lily. “Marlene is right. You’re your own woman. You shouldn’t let the opinion of that arrogant toerag dictate your decisions.”

You and Marlene exchange glances. It was quite obvious that, over the years, James’ crush was becoming less unrequited. And although it was disturbing at first, you quickly accepted the idea that one of your best friends fancied your brother.

“You mean that arrogant toerag you so happen to like?” you said, raising an eyebrow. 

Lily raised hers back defiantly. “I don’t like James Potter.”

“Yeah, right,” Marlene scoffed. “That’s like saying Y/N doesn’t have the hots Sirius Black.”

You frowned, ignoring the slight amount of heat rising to your cheeks. “But I don’t.”

Now it was Lily and Marlene who gave each other incredulous looks. It was clear neither of them believed your poorly concealed lie. They knew, no matter how much you denied it, that you had developed a crush on Sirius the moment he gave you a bundle of white flowers for Christmas. Just the thought of his hand brushing against your cheek as he tucked a single flower behind your ear made your butterflies come alive.

“Let’s pretend, for now, that we believe you.” Marlene checked the time. “But in this moment, I hear the firewhisky calling my name. Are you coming?”

“Sirius will be there,” Lily sang.

You threw your head back defeat. “Fine.” You paused. “But not because I want to see Sirius.”

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anonymous asked:

6 and 25 with Buck

6. “Move away from the door and let me at him.” +
25. “Put me down!”- Bucky Barnes

Bucky Barnes had a very special talent of being able to drive you up the wall without saying a single word. His mere presence was enough to annoy you, and he knew it. However, one or two of your friends continuously hinted that what you were feeling wasn’t exactly annoyance.

“You do!” Wanda exclaimed, eating a large spoon of chocolate ice cream, “You so like him, you just won’t admit it!”

“I do not like that egotistic, careless, brutish, arrogant…” You ranted, kicking your legs up in the air as you lay upside down on your bed.

“Okay, okay, we get the point!” Natasha interrupted, chuckling quietly to herself as she filed her nails.

“I can’t believe you are trying to deny this, I can literally read your mind.” Wanda smirked, laughing as you threw a pillow at her head.


“Shutup Wilson, I do not like her, she’s insufferable!” Bucky grunted, taking a swig of his beer as he flipped his friend off.

“Oh come on man, you seek her out like a damn moth to a flame!” Sam chuckled, pointing the neck of his beer in Bucky’s direction

“He’s right Buck, it’s the age old awful stereotype of a little boy pulling a little girls pigtails because he likes her.” Steve smirked, bumping his fist with Sam as they both laughed at their clueless friend.

“That’s bullshit and you know it!” Bucky exclaimed, scowling as his friends continued to laugh at him. “Fine! What’ve I gotta do to get you jerks off my back?” He asked, folding his arms across his chest.

“Ooooh, this could be interesting…” Sam grinned, looking over at his blond friend, “So many opportunities!”

“It has to be something she’d hate, something that would make her so annoyed that she’d get that look like she was about to explode…” Steve hummed, dropping his head back against the sofa.

“I know!” Sam clicked his fingers, jumping up from his seat, “Drop her in the pool!”

“Seriously, that’s it?” Bucky scoffed, placing his bottle down on the coffee table.

“Ooh, no that’s good!” Steve murmured, “She hates water, comes with the pyromancer territory.”

“Okay, fine!” Bucky huffed, getting up and storming out of the room, Steve and Sam following behind him like excitable children.


“And then, it blew up in his face!” Wanda laughed, causing you and Natasha to burst out laughing as well.

“Stark’s such an idiot.” You chuckled fondly, flicking through your instagram feed on your phone. 

Just as Natasha began regaling the two of you with stories of failed missions, the door slammed open and the last person in the world you wanted to see came striding in.

“Barnes, what the fu-” You exclaimed, not being able to finish your sentence before you were scooped up in his arms and thrown over his shoulder.

“Put me down!” You shouted, hitting your fists against his back as he carried you through the corridors, “What the hell do you think your doing?”

As the two of you walked through a set of double doors, you still struggling in his grip, it suddenly became very clear where he was taking you. Going still for a moment, you dropped your voice an octave before growling.

“James Buchanan Barnes, I swear to god if you drop me in the pool, you will rue the day you were ever born!”

Without another word, you were unceremoniously dropped in the cold water, spluttering and shivering your broke the surface to see the faces of 4 of your team mates looking utterly shocked, and the 5th looking way to smug.

“What the fuck Barnes?” Wanda exclaimed, turning to glare at the super soldier. Moving silently through the water, you pulled yourself out, barely controlling your anger.

“I can’t believe he actually did it…” Sam murmured to Steve, both boys looking ridiculously guilty.

“You better run Barnes.” Natasha said ominously, raising an eyebrow at the brunette as he started looking more nervous, inching towards the double doors before making a run for it.

In a matter of seconds, the doors slammed shut and Steve and Sam moved into place in front of them, blocking your path. Finally losing your cool, you charged at the two men, snarling as Steve wrapped an arm around your middle to stop your way.

“Move away from the door and let me at him.” You growled, tears rolling down your cheeks.

“Y/N… this is all just a big misunderstanding…” Steve murmured placatingly brows furrowing as you continued to struggle. 

“This isn’t a misunderstanding Steve, everyone here knows how much I hate water, he’s just a huge jackass!” You snarled, losing a bit of your edge as a sob broke past your lips.

“Y/N I-” Sam, trailing off as the two finally let you go.

You weren’t going to confront Barnes now, no, you were going to cry in your room. About your fear of water, and how this guy you had slowly fallen for turned out to be exactly who you thought he was all along.

Prompt ListRequest a prompt!

Touch Starved

Cas doesn’t know when he started to crave human contact.  He supposes it’s a side effect of inhabiting his vessel for so long, but it’s inconvenient to say the least.  

He remembers hugging Dean when he came back from the dead, wrapping himself around his warm body without a second thought. How easy things had been then, when all of his thoughts were occupied with Dean being alive and what a miracle that was.  He didn’t have to worry about overstepping his bounds, doing something he’d regret.

He remembers Dean cupping his face, stroking it even, holding his hand after a near-fatal (or fatal) injury as he looked into his eyes, making sure he was alright.  

Even then, in the context of whatever brush with death he was recovering from, Cas couldn’t think about anything but melting into Dean’s hands, staying that way forever and ever. But of course, he couldn’t.  That would be inappropriate, a man touching a male vessel for such a sustained period of time, and if Dean touched him for too long he might give into temptation. Overstep his bounds.  Do something he’d regret.

Cas lives a sleepless life, but as he wanders the bunker at night he can’t help but envision what it would be like to lay down in bed next to Dean, to hold him in his arms or have him hold Cas, to feel his warm breath and the thud of his heartbeat. 

 Dean had been so warm when he touched Cas.  So gentle, and so very human.

He tells himself it’s only fantasy, so it doesn’t count.  Just as long as he never let’s it show, what he truly wants, and how badly he wants it:  he craves contact, Dean’s contact, his affection, his warmth.  He wants to know Dean loves him back, for him to show it with his actions if not with his words.  

But he doesn’t dare say it.  He just dreams.

Over a year ticks by like this, when Dean comes home from a hunt, badly injured.  He has a blood-red welt on his forehead, and a deep scratch through the fabric of his shirt. 

 Cas, ever concerned, steps forward.  “Here,” he offers, holding out his hand.  “Let me.”

Dean gives the obligatory, feeble protest, but doesn’t move away as Cas presses his hand to his shoulder, where his handprint had been all those years ago.  

The injuries slowly fade from Dean’s body, and Cas, satisfied that his patient is now well, begins to retract his hand.

It’s barely perceptible, the way Dean leans towards the contact, following it.  Chasing it.  

Cas notices anyway, and his brow furrows.  He’s been told he lacks empathy, but Cas recognizes the gesture, the longing that was behind it.  It just doesn’t seem possible that Dean could crave what Cas does.

Still, tentatively, experimentally, places his hand back on Dean’s shoulder.  

“What’re you doin’?”  Dean inquires, voice a tired grumble.  “I’m all healed up.  I’m fine now.”

Still, he doesn’t move away.

“I am…checking for further injuries,” he informs him, and immediately feels guilty for lying.  Still, he needs to know if Dean wants this too, whether even some small part of him might crave this.  He allows his hands to move gently over Dean’s shoulders, tentatively as though he might break.

Dean makes a soft grunt that tells Cas he doesn’t quite believe his alibi, but still, he doesn’t move away. He leans closer, into Castiel’s touch.

Cas continues, in somewhat awed silence, his hands stroking down Dean’s broad shoulders, down his muscular back, radiating warmth beneath his thick flannel shirt.  Cas wishes he wasn’t wearing it, and not even for sexual reasons:  he just wants to feel Dean’s skin beneath his own, wants the intimacy of being together without the restrictions of clothes.

He allows his fingertips to brush, feather-light, over the bare skin of Dean’s neck, still damp with sweat from the exertion of their hunt.  Dean doesn’t tense, or do anything, really:  he just sits there, perfectly still.  Cas can’t read his facial expression, but he somehow feels he’s doing something forbidden.  

At that moment, Sam walks in, saying something innocuous about the hunt and not noticing whatever it is they’re doing.  

Dean stands up abruptly, practically knocking over a chair as he does so.  Cas watches him curiously as he awkwardly greets him, clearly somewhat embarrassed, despite the fact Sam wasn’t aware of the exchange that had just transpired.  

Sam looks suspiciously from Dean, then to Cas, then goes about his business like he doesn’t want to know.

It isn’t until months later that Cas finally gets what he wants, though he’s not coherent enough to fully appreciate it.  

He’s been stabbed through the gut with an angel blade, grace seriously depleted and nearly delirious.  

It’s an unfortunately close re-enactment of the last time Cas was taken from them, and Dean knows it as he lugs Cas into bunker, draped over his shoulder like a rag doll.  

He’s barely conscious as Dean lays him on the sofa, pealing back his blood-soaked shirt to reveal the wound, the blue light of his Grace illuminating from within.  

He yells something at Sam, who minutely brings them a bowl of hot water and a cloth, which Dean then uses to clean it.  If Cas were more coherent, he’d tell Dean that was useless, that he would be healed by his grace or not at all;  mending a vessel when his true form was damaged was like trying to repair a flesh wound by patching up clothing.

But Dean is touching him gently, cleaning his wound and muttering to him soft, soothing nothings that he can’t quite make out.

He’s looking at him with an emotion somewhere between desperation and…Cas refuses to let himself think ‘love’, not wanting to feed into his own false hope, but it’s something very close to it.

In spite of himself, he smiles, allowing Dean to take care of him as his eyes flutter shut one last time.


When Cas comes to, he’s shirtless and carefully bandaged, though he doesn’t need it anymore;  his Grace heeled the wound over night.  Now, not even a scar remains.

He doesn’t have much time to pontificate on this, however, because Dean is beside him, asleep on the sofa, one arm draped over Castiel’s bare midsection and the other wrapped around a pillow, snoring softly.  

Cas watches him, too awed to say anything, for the better part of a half hour.  Not even Dean drooling on his pillow is enough to detract from the wonder of him being here.  The fact that he has, apparently, stayed with him throughout the night, his body pressed against his own.

And here Cas had been losing faith in miracles.  

After a while, Dean’s eyes flitter open, and he awakens with a startled snort as he realizes Cas is staring at him.  

Cas is about to apologize for staring, again, when Dean has expressed his desire for him not to, but Dean is only sitting up on his elbow, grinning stupidly at him and rubbing the drool off his chin.  

“Cas,” he half-chuckles, voice breathy and slightly awed.  “You’re alive.”

Cas nods sagely, grunting as he sits back on his pillow.  “I believe so, yes.”

“That’s…”  Dean trails off, laughing breathlessly.  “That’s awesome, man.  We didn’t think you were gonna make it for a while.  If you were human, that blow would’ve been-”  He trails off.  “I’m glad you’re here, man.”

Cas is barely listening at this point, still staring at Dean in quiet awe.

“You…stayed with me,”  he murmurs, Dean blinks, looking slightly taken aback by the statement:  it’s almost a question, the way Cas phrases it; the inquiry of why is evident in his voice.

“Of course I did, man.  We care about you,” he says, hand rubbing at the back of his neck.  “I care about you.”

Cas stares at him, expression unreadable.  Slowly, he nods.

They’re still lying there, on the sofa, bodies pressed close.  Dean is so warm, so soft and pliable against him, radiating the heat Castiel has craved for so long.

Cas wets his lips.  “Can we stay like this, just a little while?”  he asks, voice barely a whisper.  He doesn’t want to make Dean feel uncomfortable, but he wants this closeness so badly.  He never wants it to stop.

There’s a brief pause.  Dean swallows before he answers, “Sure, Cas.  Whatever you need, buddy.”

Cas smiles, tentatively resting his head against Dean’s shoulder.  He closes his eyes, not missing the way Dean leans into his touch, the contented sigh he breathes through his nose.  

And Cas knows, in that moment, that Dean’s wanted this too.  Maybe as much as Cas has, if that’s possible.

It only feels natural when Dean leans in for a kiss.  

Deadly Sins- Envy

Originally posted by tomhollanderr

Relationship: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Reader’s jealous ex who despises Peter Parker for dating the Reader follows them after school. A turn of events happens when Peter’s girlfriend life is on the line.

Warnings: Swearing cause I love swearing IRL.Angst?

Word Count: 2,000

*A/N: I’m transitioning from Wattpad so this is how I type my fics.. Hope you guy’s like my writing style. I know most people do [Y/N] but I normally don’t but in the future I’ll try it :,) Pls don’t roast me /.\ I also tried making it long, sorry if it’s too long 0.0 Like I said I’m used to writing longer stuff..

One of the worst sins to have is Pride. Yet the most dangerous ones come from our inner turmoils. Envy can lead towards many other feelings causing you to do something you’ll regret. Jealousy causes you to feel like your body is on fire and you have to act immediately to set out the fire. Sometimes we can never settle the fire inside of us..

The fire was raging in Quarterback Mason Larson. It’s been ablaze since he had just been broken up with for low life Peter Parker. His girlfriend of two months ended it with him to be with that nerd. She claimed that Mason was too jealous for her liking. He was going to find out why she liked this Parker kid so much…

[Reader’s POV]

“You look different…. dating Penis Parker definitely has changed you” Mason seethes gripping on your wrist. You had one of Peter’s science shirts on cause it was like you had a piece of him whenever he’s away.

“Let go of me Mason,move on with your life!” you shout in protest trying to get your hand back. You just wanted to wait for Peter after school like a normal girlfriend. Yet you get bothered by your Envy filled Ex-Boyfrined.

“You’re my girl so no I won’t let you go” His voice raising causing people’s heads to turn. Great this jackass was going to cause a scene..

“Hey baby, there you are!” Peter’s voice catches your attention. Your eyes flicking in his direction. His eyes glance at your hand twitching in Mason’s tight grasp.

“Sorry I’m late, had to finish up with the group over the topics for the next competition” Peter swiftly twists Mason’s wrist and kicking his feet from under him. You let out a yelp when Mason’s nails scratch you. Peter immediately  catches you before you fall backwards on the ground.

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I was inspired by @potato-fan-girl writing Lance as a live streamer in this fic! So, here’s Lance taking a stupid dare for the viewers. 

“So, this is insane, but who’s to say that I’m not also insane?” 

Keith smirks as he props his feet up and leans back against his computer chair. He watches with lazy eyes as Lance motions toward the icy river behind him. 

He won’t do it, Keith thinks, and he expresses this through a quick text to the brunet.

It takes only seconds until Lance is fishing his phone out of his pocket, and Keith can’t help the light laugh that slips through his lips as he watches Lance’s face curl into a mask of annoyance as he reads the text.

“My boyfriend seems to think I’m bluffing. Well, let me prove you wrong, Keith!" 

Keith crosses his arms and tilts his head as Lance begins shedding clothes on his laptop screen. He’s predictable, Keith thinks. Lance always asks for dares from his live stream viewers then chickens out half way through. It never fails.

Most likely, Lance will strip to his boxers, toe the icy river water, then make some humorous comment about how he’s not in the mood to die today.

When Lance is stripped down to his boxers, he turns his back to face the river, and Keith’s eyes zero in on the defined back muscles jutting out beautifully against golden tan skin. His gaze trickles down the waist band of Lance’s light blue boxers as a soft blush colors his cheeks, and then Lance jumps.

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Made of Skin and Bones

Originally posted by theseromaniansarecrazy

(not my gifs!)

Pairing: Alpha!Bucky x Omega!Reader

Warnings: Language, A/B/O dynamics, sickness

Summary: Due to the premature death of the King of your clan, his son, the alpha James Barnes, must assume his destiny and lead his people. As the tradition commands, he must choose some worthy omegas to make their his wives and with which he will ensure the subsistence of your clan. All the omega women are obliged to appear before their king, including you. Luckily for you, you would never be chosen… right?

Tags: at the end. ARE NOW CLOSED (sorry guys) I wrote them again one by one I really hope this time they work

A/N: I’d tried to post sooner but it was impossible, I’ll try and do my best for the next chapter :) Thank you for your patience  ❤

Previously: (Masterlist)

10. What we have been

- James! - you call his name trying to gain his atenttion - Look at me, come on - his eyes are following invisible figures in the sky, he doesn’t even seem to  know that you are next to him.

You run to the lake and strip another piece of clothe, soaking it you nearly trip over your own feet when you turn back to his side. Kneeled next to him you place the wet fabric on his forehead and then he blinks a couple times.

- Hey, Bucky? - you try again. He then turns his head towards you, his eyes full of bewilderment, you smile softly at him - Stay with me, okay? - he nods slowly 

You lick your dry lips ignoring the fast beats of your heart with just one goal in mind, save James. Trembling you check the open injury and caress his forehead, now full of sweat, for God’s sake… he’s suffering.

- Hey, hey - you try to catch his atenttion - Look at me Bucky - you open his shirt and, with difficulty, you move his big torso to take it off of him, you need to see since where the infection has spread

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hello friends!! here’s part four, i hope you love it

part one | part two | part three


questions, comments, concerns

You yawn, “Hi.” You balance the phone between your shoulder and cheek as you type something into your laptop.
“Will you be home anytime soon?”
You look at the time and realize it’s nearly 12:30. You sigh, “I’m sorry baby, I shouldn’t be much longer, you should go to bed though.”
“It’s okay,” Harry says, but yawns, “We get to sleep in tomorrow so I can wait up. What’re you working on?”
“Just finishing a draft of my opening statement. I’m gonna leave it on Ron’s desk since he comes in on Saturdays, see what he thinks.” You finish the last sentence and hit save, print.
“Why don’t you just e-mail him?”
The printer begins to whir behind you, “Oh…” Then you giggle, “I’m so tired, I didn’t even think to.”
“Are you okay to drive home, love? I can come get you, we can come back for your car tomorrow.”

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A Step Back

Originally posted by welldonezico

(gif cr; respectful owner)

a/n; just something I thought of while tidying my room,,, 

Word Count; 1,253

Zico x Reader - A/F

“Jiho, can I ask you one question?” You urged breaking the gloomy silence that loomed over you.

“Y/n, I’m working.” He replied hastily, not looking away from the screen that illuminated his face.

“I know, but you said I could only bother you if it was important!” You said, trying not to get upset over him ignoring you.

“Is it important?” He questioned, writing down notes in the tattered book next to him.

“Maybe?” You shrugged, not really knowing if it was.

“Okay, hurry up!” He demanded, getting annoyed at your disturbance.

“Are we dating?” You asked while tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, away from your face.

“Yes, now let me work!” He ushered, putting his pen down and focusing back on the screen.

“But -”

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Vampires Don’t Get Sick

A/N: A Snowbaz drabble for @soecrates <3 Happy late birthday!!

Simon has never woken up before Baz. So he assumes Baz is at breakfast when he wakes up and goes to shower, humming an off key tune. He dresses quickly in the dorm and is about to leave when he hears a low groan.

Startled he turns to see a lump in Baz’s bed, moving.

“Baz?” Simon starts. He cautiously makes his way over and sees dark hair spread out over the pillow. The rest of Baz is hidden under a pile of blankets.

Simon considers leaving him there. It’s what Baz would do if he had slept late. But Baz is never late. It just doesn’t happen.

Simon slowly reaches out a finger and pokes the lump of blankets before quickly pulling back.

Baz groans again and rolls over, blearily blinking his eyes.

“What Snow?” he says, lacking his usual venom.

“Um, you’re late.” Simon says.

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t.”

“Then leave me alone.” Baz rolls back over.

Simon considers this for a moment, but he can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t right. Maybe Baz is plotting something. He’s doing this just to mess with Simon.

He pokes him again.


“What” comes the muffled reply.

“Are you- are you okay?”

“I’m fine Snow, just leave me ‘lone,” Baz has rolled back over to face Simon. His face is pale, paler than usual. Simon thinks it looks kind of green. And there are beads of sweat on his forehead.

“You don’t look fine. Are you ill?” Simon asks.

“I don’t get ill,” comes Baz’s reply.

Without thinking, Simon presses the back of his hand to Baz’s forehead. He’s burning up.

“Baz, you’re definitely sick.” He can’t just leave Baz here, ill. What if he’s dying? Simon goes to the bathroom and gets a washcloth, running it under cold water and wringing it out. He comes back to Baz and carefully lays it on his forehead.

He hears Baz sigh and his eyes fall closed.

Simon watches him carefully for a bit, to make sure he’s still breathing, then decides he’s done what he could. He leaves the dorm as quietly as he can and decides to head to breakfast; if he hasn’t missed it already.

He can even ask Cook Pritchard for some soup while he’s there. He’s related to Baz, so he’ll probably help.

Penny ignores him when Simon tries to talk about Baz’s odd behavior.

“Can we not talk about Baz for once?” complains Agatha.

“But he’s sick!” Simon says, “Do vampires even get sick?”

Agatha rolls her eyes as Simon slathers more butter onto his scone.

“Seriously, Simon. Shut up.”


“You have crumbs on your cheek,” Agatha interrupts.

Simon brushes at his face, completely missing the crumbs, before turning to Penny.

“Pen?” he asks.

“Yes Simon?” Penny mumbles, eyes still on her book.

“Do they?”


“Do vampires get sick?”

Penny glances up at him before sighing and closing her book.

“I can’t say I know Si.”

Agatha sights dramatically and gets up, moving to sit with Trixie and Keris.

A bell rings signaling fifteen minutes till first hour. Simon has a free period that he usually uses to visit Ebb or sleep some more.

Today though, he says goodbye to Penny and goes to get soup from Cook Pritchard.

When he gets back to the room, Baz isn’t in his bed. Simon pauses a moment and looks around. He knew Baz had been messing with him. It was all a plot to make Simon feel bad.  

He’s about to leave again when he hears retching coming from the bathroom. He quickly sets the soup down on his desk and runs into the bathroom.

Baz is curled around the toilet, miserable. His face green and his eyes dull. He retches again and Simon automatically moves, pulling Baz’s hair away from his face.

“Simon?” Baz asks. Even his voice sounds ill. It’s too soft and scratchy.

“Here.” Simon says.

Baz opens his mouth to say something but only retches again. Simon scrunches up his nose and does his best to ignore the smell of sick. He looks around and grabs a hair tie off Baz’s side of the sink, doing his best to put his hair up like he’d seen Baz do it. It’s lumpy and some stray hairs escaped, but it isn’t in his face anymore.

Baz groans and leans his forehead against the cool porcelain.

“Are you done?” Simon asks. “You know..” he trails off.

“I think so,” Baz says.

Simon takes Baz’s elbow and pulls him up.

“C’mon.” he says.

Baz complies, letting Simon lift him up off the floor and help him back to his bed.

He collapses against his pillow and looks at Simon blearily.

“Why are you doing this? Helping me?”

“Y-you’re sick Baz!” Simon stutters. “I can’t just let you be sick. Besides, I’m used to you plotting. My life gets boring without you plotting against me.”

Simon doesn’t actually know why he’s helping him. It’s probably something to do with how pathetic he looks. His eyes are dull and his hands are shaky. He’s nothing like he usually is. ‘You could almost forget he’s evil when he looks like this,’ Simon thinks.

Baz laughs and then groans, clutching his stomach.

“Are you going to puke again?”


“Good.” He takes the washcloth from earlier this morning and moves it towards Baz’s face, but Baz pulls away.

“Baz.” Simon looks at him, eyebrows raised. Baz stares back.

“Let me help you.”

Baz huffs but doesn’t move away again when Simon brings the washcloth to his lips and wipes them off. Simon does his best to ignore the fangs pressing into Baz’s bottom lip. He’s too sick to attack him right now; that was a problem for another time.

“Do you think you can eat?”

Baz shakes his head.

“C’mon Baz, just a few bites. You need food to get better.”

Simon goes to the desk and brings the soup over. He lifts a spoonful to Baz’s mouth and Baz glares as he accepts it, carefully swallowing.

“I don’t need you to hand feed me, Snow,” he says after the first bite. But he didn’t sound mean or bitter, just exhausted.

“Oh really?” Simon asks. “Fine. You do it.”

He hands the spoon to Baz and watches him try to steady his trembling fingers. After three attempts at getting a spoonful of soup Simon snatches it back.

“I thought so,” He says, raising another bite of soup to Baz’s mouth.

With Baz eating something, his fangs pop out even more.

A thought occurs to Simon.

“Baz?” he asks slowly.

Grey eyes meet his and he opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again decisively.

“Do you need, like, blood?”

Baz snaps his mouth shut so quickly he can hear his teeth clack together. The muscles in his jaw stand out as he clenches his teeth. He’s obviously uncomfortable, resembling a wild animal caught in headlights.

“I- I’m not going to tell anyone Baz,” Simon says quickly, hand on his leg in an attempt to reassure him.

“Not even the Mage?”

Simon hesitates and Baz scoffs, a bit of his usual self appearing for a moment.

“I thought so.”

Simon straightens his shoulders and meets Baz’s eyes.

“No. Not even the Mage. Now do you have like an extra storage of blood or something for when you get sick?”

“Vampires don’t get sick, Snow. I’m already half dead.”

“Okay… but you’re sick now.”

“Shut up Snow.” Baz turns away and Simon can’t help but notice how hollow and grey his cheeks are.

“Seriously Baz, I can get blood for you. Not from people or anything but-”

“Do you really think I drink human blood?” Baz snaps.

Simon stops. He doesn’t know what to say. Baz is a vampire and he’s evil. Why wouldn’t he?

“Of course I don’t,” Baz continues. “Why do you think I’m in the catacombs all the time?”

“…Right.” Simon says. “Listen I’m sure Penny knows a spell or something that can-”


“But Baz.”

“No.” Baz swallows. “No one else can know, okay?”

Simon looks at Baz, yet Baz doesn’t budge.

“Okay, Baz.”

Baz finally drifts off into a restless sleep. His eyes flutter and he cries out occasionally but he seems to not be dying so Simon heads down to the catacombs.

Simon can’t believe he’s doing this. ‘And for my enemy’, he thinks. But right now Baz doesn’t seem like an enemy, or a monster. He seems like a boy. A sick boy. Who Simon feels a duty to help.  

He shakes off feelings and thoughts of Baz and focuses on his task at hand. He pulls out his wand, not able to think of any easier way to catch a rat.

Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

About fifty rodents scurry out from the walls and Simon tries not to shriek.

Go down like a lead balloon!” he shouts.

The catacombs go quiet again.

Simon stares at the rat massacre and sighs, lowering his wand. Baz had better appreciate this.

He lugs about ten dead rats back up the stairs in a backpack he had brought down and sets it beside Baz, who wakes up immediately, nose twitching.

Simon watches as he tentatively opened the bag and peers in before glancing at Simon. His mouth seems suddenly fuller than it was a few seconds ago.

“Thanks,” Baz says. The ‘s’ drawn out in a slight lisp.

“No problem,” Simon says, shrugging and sitting on his bed.

Baz gingerly picks up a rat and then glances at Simon.

“You don’t have to watch this.”

Simon scoffs. “I’ve already seen you puke your guts out Baz. I don’t think this is going to change anything.”

Baz self consciously licks his lips and opens his mouth to protest but Simon cuts him off.

“I’m curious, Baz. It’s - It’s kinda cool.” Simon blushes and Baz actually laughs. He laughs.

Simon doesn’t think he’s ever heard Baz genuinely laugh. It’s loud and surprising coming from someone who is so full of glares and smirks.

“You’re crazy,” Baz says.

“You’re a vampire.”

“I guess we match.”

They watch each other for a moment, and Baz cracks a small smile. He must be loopy from his fever, Simon decides.

“Go ahead,” he says, “Do your thing.”

Baz shakes his head but bites down on the rat’s neck and drains it of blood. He gets through about three more before he zips the bag back up and sets it on the ground.

He watches Simon warily for a reaction.

Simon is leaned forward, fascinated.

“So, like, how often do you need to do that?”

“Shut up, Snow.”

“No, really. Can you die if you don’t get enough blood?”


“And can you control your fangs? Cause they’re not always there y’know.”

“I know, Snow.” Baz leans back onto his pillow and closes his eyes.

“Can you smell blood?” Simon continues, “Can you smell my blood? What do I smell like?”

Baz’s eyes remain closed. He’s quiet for a bit, but finally answers. “Like apples and cinnamon and smoked bacon.”

“So what you’re saying is I smell good.”

Baz cracks open one eye to see Simon grinning.

“Be quiet, I’m ill, I don’t know what I’m saying.”

He closes his eyes again only to feel a hand against his forehead. His mattress dips as Simon sits beside him.

“You’re fever seems to be down.”

“Mmm” Baz agrees.

“How do you feel?”


Simon is warm. He radiates heat, even through the blankets. Baz can feel him where his thigh touches his side.

“How cold? Cause you could be too cold. If you’re too cold that’s not good either-”

“Shut up.”

“Baz, seriously,” Simon continues, “What if you’re like the opposite of a fever. Like a cold fever,”

“Shut up Snow.” Baz blindly reaches out and tugs on Simon’s arm. Simon loses his balance and falls against Baz’s chest.

Baz keeps his eyes closed. He has to. He can feel Simons breath against his cheek. Simon is so warm. Like a down blanket. But with harder edges and elbows and knees. Simon sucks in a breath as he’s pressed against Baz’s chest. Even sick, Baz doesn’t feel all that weak. He feels firm and unbreakable, and not like an enemy at all.

“…Baz?” Simon asks.

“Stay,” Baz mumbles drowsily.

“What? Are you sure?”


“Okay, fine. Just to make sure you don’t get an opposite fever,” Simon says. He pushes away all the thoughts trying to race through his mind, determined just to enjoy this. Baz would probably push him away once he woke up and felt better, but for now, Simon could do what Baz wants.

“Mmm,” Baz hums.

“At least let me under the covers though.”

Baz, sleepily, feels Simon crawl over him and get under the covers before slowly wrapping his arms around him. Baz snuggles up to him, to tired to think or care about what he’s doing. Simon doesn’t protest, actually seeming to relax against him.

“Sleep well, Baz,” he whispers softly. Baz’s back is nestled against Simon’s chest and he can feel every breath Baz takes. He likes him here, Simon decides. He doesn’t have to worry about where Baz is and what he’s plotting when he’s right next to him. Simon’s eyes start to close and his breathing evens out to match Baz’s as he falls asleep.

A week later, Simon gets sick.

Malec: S2E8 missing scene

Author’s note: I decided to write a Malec ‘missing scene’ type thing which features a conversation I felt would have been important from episode eight, especially considering the circumstances.

If anybody ever feels like Alec, please know that it is okay to ask for help. I’m not an expert but if you feel like talking to somebody I’m here and also please be aware of your local suicide prevention hotline. Please be safe!!

That being said, I hope you enjoy this Malec fan fiction. It’s short but kinda sweet, I guess??? Haha.


After the whole ordeal with Iris Rouse had been solved, Magnus looked around his apartment to observe the damage. In normal circumstances, he would have fixed the destroyed walls and the cluttered ornaments right away. Right now, though, Magnus knew he had a more pressing matter to deal with.

“We should be leaving,” Clary said in a small voice. Once Magnus had sent Iris to the Clave, an uneasy silence had settled around the room as the severity of the night dwelled on the group. “Thanks for a great party, Magnus,” she continued, the unheard ‘despite’ hanging in the air between them.

Magnus managed a smile. “That’s quite alright, Biscuit.”

Clary took Simon’s hand and left the apartment. Izzy and Jace made to follow, choosing not to say a word but to just give a solemn nod in acknowledgment.

Jace paused by the door, realising his Parabatai was not following them. “You coming, Alec?” he questioned, cocking his head in the direction of the door.

Alec was visibly tense, a frown somehow deeper than usual arranged on his face. “No,” he replied through his teeth.

Jace looked, concerned, towards Magnus, who in turn motioned a hand as if to tell him to leave. Although he was obviously worried, Jace thought it best to let Magnus try and get through to Alec, so he simply give another nod and left.

The audible click of the front door echoed in the apartment. Alec’s hands were squeezed tightly into fists, his eyes just as harshly closed, and his jaw was shaking with the effort it was taking him to try and calm down. Magnus took a cautious step towards him, and then another, and then another, until they were face to face.

“Alec,” Magnus said softly, placing a hand on around one of Alec’s trembling fists. “Open your eyes for me.” There was no response. If anything, Alec just squeezed his eyes shut even more. “Alec, please. Let me see your eyes.” Magnus placed his spare hand gently onto Alec’s face, rubbing his thumb across his cheek. “Alexander.”

Alec finally responded, opening his eyes to reveal desperate pools of hazel.

“Hey,” Magnus whispered. “Come and sit down with me, okay?”

Alec nodded in reply, and loosened the first that Magnus was holding so that they could intertwine hands. The warlock was glad for the connection. He wanted to believe that he was helping Alec more than anything.

When Magnus and Alec got to the couch, the Shadowhunter sat down first and immediately let his head fall into the palms of his hands. Though Magnus was at first going to sit next to him, he instead kneeled down in front of Alec, placing his hands on both of Alec’s wrists, squeezing in reassurance.

“Alec,” he coaxed. “Alexander, please. Let me help you.”

At last, Alec said something, moving his hands away from his face.. “Why do you even want to?” he asked, broken. “Why.. why would anybody want to?”

Magnus felt his chest rip into pieces. “Of course I want to help you, Alexander. Do you have any idea how much I care about you? I can’t bare to see you this upset.”

Alec dragged a hand through his dark, tangled hair. “Do you know why I wouldn’t open my eyes?” he said rhetorically. “Because, Magnus. Because I couldn’t look at you. Because I couldn’t bare for you to look at me, upset. Disappointed. You don’t deserve to be upset, Mags. I’m the one person who’s supposed to make you happy and I can’t even do that properly.” He scoffed humourlessly. Magnus felt a frown fall onto his face. “God, can I do anything right?!”

Magnus rose onto the couch beside the younger man, simply encouraging him to, “Go on.”

Alec began to pour his heart out to Magnus. “I killed Jocelyn,” he said definitively. “I know everybody keeps telling me that it wasn’t my fault, it was the demon’s - problem is, it was my hand reaching into her chest. It wasn’t a demon’s. It was mine. I’m a Shadowhunter. We’re trained to fight these things off. I should have known; I should have been better.. but I wasn’t. And I’m never, ever going to forgive myself for that. Clary shouldn’t! I killed her mother.”

“And it just- it makes me think. I know I was hallucinating earlier. I know that’s not what Clary actually thinks about me. But it’s what she should think. It probably is what everybody else thinks. And, you know,” he shrugged his shoulders, his voice breaking. “Maybe everybody would be better off without me. Like I said. I can’t do anything right.”

Alec’s heartbroken eyes finally met Magnus’ as he turned his head. His hands began to shake again and, before he knew it, he was encompassed in Magnus’ arms, sobbing.

“Listen to me, Alexander.” Magnus was sharp, but slightly muffled against Alec’s blazer. His eyes, too, watered. “A lot of people would miss you if you weren’t here. I can’t think of a single person that would be better off without you around. You’re a protector, a brother, a son, a friend. One half of a Parabatai bond. My boyfriend, who I can no longer imagine life without. Don’t you ever think for even a second that you are not cared for. You are; more so than you could ever know.” He felt Alec nod against his shoulder, and pulled away, raising a hand to wipe the tears away from Alec’s face. Magnus leaned back against the couch, putting an arm around Alec, who in turn shuffled to rest his head against Magnus’ chest.

“It’s just- hard, sometimes.” Alec flinched. “I guess. I’ve.. I’ve never really had anybody who worries about me. I mean, Izzy does to an extent of course. But I never really felt comfortable talking to her about my problems. I mean, I’m her older brother, you know? I’m the worrier.”

Magnus joined their free hands together. “Well, now you do. You can always come to me, Alec.”

“I know.” Alec smiled for the first time in a while. “Same goes for you.”

“And, Alexander?”


“Please never worry that you’re not making me happy. I haven’t felt anything quite like this in a long time,” the warlock admitted. “Maybe ever.”

“Oh,” Alec gasped, shocked. Not knowing what to say in reply, he simply leaned up and kissed Magnus on the cheek. Magnus, unwilling to let Alec pull away, caught him in a tender kiss on the lips that would leave the two breathless.

“Can I stay here, tonight?” Alec asked as he settled back down onto Magnus’ chest.

“Oh, Alexander,” Magnus responded fondly. “You should know by now that you never need to ask.”



Originally posted by jayfatuasian

(gif cr; respectful owner)

AOMG Gang AU // Word Count; 1,897

AOMG x Reader - Angst // Part 2

a/n; this is part 1, idk how long this series will be but I had fun writing it! <3

“Mmm, what a delightful looking snack!” A deep voice sneered while circling your chair in the dim lit room.

“Hello!” You giggled not afraid of the current situation you were in. The male that was circling you stopped behind you and tugged at your hair, forcing you to look at him. The only thing that was visible was the smirk he held over his face, you giggled once more finding the whole situation entertaining.

“You won’t be laughing when we torture you.” The deep voice resonated through the room, causing you to shiver at how deep the voice of the male was and how close his lips were to your ear.

“Threats, empty threats!” You breathed out, your chest rose and fell as you took deep breaths. Your heart beat quickened and your smile only grew when he growled in your ear, letting go of your hair.

“Do you know who we are?” He questioned in anger that his threats didn’t frighten you. “AOMG a very well known gang, I’ve stolen from you before” You beamed while eyeing the blonde haired man who was now standing in front of you.

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remnants-resisstiment  asked:

"This horrible umbrella wont extend ! Oh shit I just hit you in the crotch! Im so sorry." for Todoroki Shouto !

Head canon that Todoroki is a patient husband even when he knows he knows better then you…

Todoroki Shouto

“Sweety, you’re getting all wet.” He reached for the umbrella but you moved it away. “Let me help you.”

“No, Shouto!” It was a damn umbrella for goodness sake and you were determined to open it even if you had to break the damned thing. “I can do this, just give me a minute…”

“And let you get soaked in the process? I don’t think-”

Click. You found the button! The small umbrella shot out hitting Todoroki right in the crotch of his pants. He immediately doubled over and fell to his knees. Nothing brought him to his knees. Forgetting all about your grand accomplishment, you kneel down beside him.

“I am so sorry baby! Are you okay?”

He gave a painful moan in response but reached for the umbrella in your hand and raised it above your head. “Just…stay out of the rain, okay?”

things you said when you were crying

Bucky Barnes x Reader

word count: 731

You had never seen Bucky cry before. It was a joke between the two of you that he had a metal heart along with his metal arm. The fact that he was crying now in front of you made the joke seem silly now.

“(Y/n). I’m so sorry for what I did. I know that I can’t take it back but please, I can’t lose you.” The tears were flowing from his eyes now.

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anonymous asked:

Supercorp: Lena decides to get a tattoo of Kara's crest in a very intimate area. Healing time is twelve weeks. Kara wonders why Lena doesn't want Kara to touch her. Kara always means to ask but Lena distracts her by satisfying her until she's seeing stars.

Lena sat down and winced slightly; she realistically had known how much a brand new tattoo would hurt, but she still found herself slightly unprepared for just how tender she currently felt. She found herself questioning her sanity for the fourth time that afternoon for deciding to get the rather small tattoo, just below her bikini line.

Every time she moved, the tiny House of El crest ached and made Lena suck her breath in rather sharply.

She had been told that the tattoo would take twelve weeks to heal, which seemed reasonable enough, until Lena remembered she wanted the tattoo to be a surprise for Kara, which meant her girlfriend couldn’t see her without her knickers for twelve weeks. That, Lena decided, was going to be an issue.

That evening, Kara flopped onto the bed next to Lena, a mischievous glint in her eyes. Her fingers started trailing patterns over Lena’s stomach, occasionally dipping under her top to dance across the bare skin.

Lena placed down her book and turned her head to face Kara, a smirk on her lips, a quip on her tongue, but found her lips suddenly pressed against Kara’s. Lena deepened the kiss, her tongue swiping across Kara’s lips to gain entry. Kara shifted slightly, her knee moving between Lena’s legs, which caused Lena to still momentarily as she remembered her new tattoo.

In one decisive movement, Lena rolled, gently pushing Kara back onto the bed and moved to straddle her hips. Lena slowly drew her top over her head and grinned at the way Kara drank in her form. Kara moved to sit up, to undo the buttons on Lena’s trousers, but Lena took Kara’s wrists in hers.

‘Uh uh’ she tutted and moved Kara’s hands away from her, ‘let me look after you darling.’

Kara grinned, assuming she’d be able to return the favour, and settled back as Lena slowly undressed her, kissing each piece of newly revealed skin.

She convulsed as Lena nipped at her abs, and squirmed as Lena trailed kisses from her navel, lower and lower until Kara let out a small gasp as Lena ran her tongue over her clit.

Kara tangled her hand into Lena’s hair, her head rolling back against the pillow as her girlfriend continued to gently tease her with her tongue.

She looked down and locked eyes with Lena, who raised an eyebrow and brought up two fingers, slipping them easily into Kara.

Kara moaned as Lena set up a slow pace, fingers pumping at a deliberate pace to keep Kara on the edge, while slightly increasing the pressure with her tongue.

Lena continued this pace, waiting for Kara to ask for more, to beg for more.

‘Pl… please Lena’ Kara eventually relented, ‘I need more.’

Lena sped up her fingers, curling them as Kara panted above her. She felt the grip in her hair tighten and Kara’s thighs clench as Kara’s hips bucked, riding Lena’s face.

Kara came with a loud cry, repeating Lena’s name over and over again as her orgasm shook through her body.

Lena didn’t let up and continued to flick her tongue over Kara’s clit, coaxing her through her second orgasm.

As Kara’s body convulsed for the second time, Lena crawled her way back up the bed to scoop the twitching Kryptonian into her arms.

‘Gimme five mins’ Kara mumbled, ‘and I can return the favour’

‘Just sleep darling’ Lena chuckled, stroking Kara’s hair.

Less than five minutes later Lena heard low snores from beneath the blonde curls strewn all over the pillow.

Lena found that she could keep up the same pattern of behaviour over the next few nights, but feared Kara would call her out on it soon enough.

Thankfully Lena was able to distract Kara for a few weeks; diverting her attention from the fact Lena hadn’t let her touch her in two weeks. It was simple enough at first; she made sure to wear Kara’s favourite bras; the ones that pushed up her breasts and encased them in lace.

She had to get slightly more inventive when Kara questioned why Lena kept wearing her more risqué underwear, but she wasn’t a genius for nothing, and distracted Kara by providing a rather sensual lap dance.

Massages had also been used to ensure her tattoo remained a secret, but Lena was starting to feel guilty about not telling Kara, plus she was only three weeks into the twelve it would take to heal; she wasn’t sure she would survive that long.

Kara had picked up that there was something Lena was keeping from her, but she couldn’t lie; she was loving all of Lena’s distraction techniques. After all, there was no way she was quizzing Lena when she was dressed in a black lace corset with a garter belt.

Kara debated using her x-ray vision, but decided that if it was serious enough, Lena would have told her.

Finally, Lena’s tattoo healed and Lena was ready to cry with relief. As she hadn’t allowed Kara to touch her, Lena hadn’t let herself come at her own hands. She was frustrated beyond belief and couldn’t wait to show Kara her tattoo.

Kara landed on the balcony of Lena’s penthouse and followed the dim flickering light to the bedroom. Upon entering, she discovered Lena laid out on the bed, wearing only one of her checked shirts, bathed in candlelight. Her skin was luminescent as the candles scattered around the room flickered.

‘There’s been something I’ve wanted to show you for a while…’ Lena started.

‘Does this have something to do with why I have had, in my estimation, roughly a thousand orgasms in the past twelve weeks?’ Kara questioned.

‘You noticed…’ Lena bit her lip.

‘I’m not complaining!’ Kara grinned.

Lena smirked back and slowly lifted the bottom of the shirt to reveal she wasn’t wearing any underwear.

Kara gulped.

Lena continued to raise the shirt until it was high enough to show the small crest tattooed on her lower pubic bone.

Kara stepped closer to take a look and looked up at Lena, eyes wide. ‘Is that..?’ she questioned.

Lena nodded.

‘Can I..?’ Kara didn’t finish the sentence; instead her fingers hovered over the black ink.

Lena nodded again.

Kara gently ran her fingers over the small tattoo, looking up at Lena again when she whined at the contact and her hips bucked slightly.

Kara giggled at the reaction her fingertips had caused, but stifled it when Lena cocked an eyebrow.

‘It’s been twelve weeks Kara; twelve weeks in which I have been unbelievably turned on, but not let myself come…’ Lena stated seriously.

‘You’ve not even touched yourself?’ Kara asked incredulously.

‘I thought that would be a little hypocritical as I was not letting you touch me…’ Lena reasoned.

‘You’re so wet…’ Kara marvelled as she slid her fingers down a little further, running them through Lena’s folds.

‘Twelve. Weeks.’ Lena husked at Kara slipped two fingers into her and quickly sought to bring her to release.

It didn’t take long until Lena was wrecked; panting, writhing, begging Kara to fuck her; fuck her deeper, fuck her harder.

Kara obliged and Lena toppled over the edge, Kara’s name on her lips.

Kara spooned Lena as she shuddered through the aftershocks of her orgasm, her fingers trailing down Lena’s body until they were ghosting over the tattoo.

‘Do you understand what this means?’ Kara whispered, unsure if Lena was aware of the full implications of having her crest permanently etched into her skin.

‘It means I’m yours forever’ Lena stated simply.