Request: Can you do one where you like Reid but he is
insanely flirting with this girl at a bar and when you confront him he just
goes all yeah she’s pretty cool and you get all mad and Morgan tells Reid off
and Reid realized that you like him and he makes you feel better
A/N: This is kind of short and I hope this is how you wanted it to go. I wasn’t sure if you wanted it to be Reid comforting her by saying I feel the same way or by him saying I don’t feel the same way but it’s ok so I just picked one.
Imagine being a lone vampire/human hybrid and trying to avoid Camille’s. But you end up getting attacked by her men when Jace comes along and saves you.
I was backed up against the wall of an ally by a couple of full vampires. They were soldiers of Camille.
"Look I don’t want any trouble.“ I said trying to get away from them.
“Well that won’t work. You’re an abomination. Camille either wants you working for her or dead. So which is it going to be.” The guy said while leaning against the wall next to my head.
“I’d rather be dead than ever consider working for Camille.” I sneered.
“Alrighty then.” He said.
Next thing I knew I was being held by my neck 2 feet in the air. I clawed at the vampires wrist trying to get free but failing. As my vision was going dark I saw a figure jump down from the roof top. I was dropped after I heard the guy holding me groan. I was laying on the ground grasping for air when I felt a hand caress my cheek.
“Who are you?” I said while quickly standing up. I stood up to quick and almost collapsed again. The man caught me.
“Woah easy there.” He said while leaning me against the wall. “You nearly died. Take it slow.” His voice was heavenly. I finally looked at him and saw that he was beautiful. And also that he was a shadowhunter.
“Who are you?”
"Me? I’m Jace Wayland.“ He said looking straight into my eyes.
“Y/N. Y/N L/N."
"Well its a pleasure to meet you Y/N. What did they mean by abomination?” That’s when I looked down embarrassed.
“I’m a vampire/human hybrid. That’s what.” I felt his hand touch my chin and lift my face.
“Really? That makes you even more interesting then before.” He said in admiration. I smiled and thought…
“Maybe there are people out there who don’t think I’m a freak.”
(I wrote this last year, but I wanted to draw new art for it.)
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the Tower The only thing stirring was my whiskey sour The stockings were hung on the flatscreen with care, In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.
The robots were nestled all snug in their docks, With visions of spark plugs and refurbished shocks. Natalie-from-Legal, Hawkguy, Bruce, and Cap, Had just settled their brains for a long winter’s nap.
When out on the roof there arose such a ruckus, I sprang from the bar and said gee, golly, fuck us. Away to the penthouse I flew in my suit, Hid my stolen files and contraband loot.
The moon on the spire of my new rooftop deck Was as bright as mid-day and I said, “What the heck?” When, what else could breach my armed defense barrier, But a quinjet leading a bigass helicarrier.
With a brash old director, so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it wasn’t that Nick. Rappelling on cables, his agents they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
“Now Rollins! now, Sitwell! Fitz-Simmons and Coulson! On, Hill, May and Rumlow! on Carter and Wilson! To the top of the roof! to the top of the wall! Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”
As trickster-gods with scepters crash into the floor, When they meet with an obstacle, say, maybe, Thor. So down to the roof-top the agents they dropped, Armed with guns, knives, and swords, and one big riding crop.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard in my abode Someone who had cracked my security code. As I drew in my head, and was turning around, Up behind me damn Nick Fury came with a bound.
He was dressed all in black, from his head to his foot, In a trench coat and boots both the color of soot. A bundle of weapons were flung on his back, And he looked like could do me in with one whack.
His eye-how it twinkled! his scars, oh how dashing! His cheekbones like razors, his teeth sharp and flashing! His grim little mouth was a line, firm and regal, And the top of his head was as bald as an eagle.
The stump of cigar he held tight in his teeth, And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath. He had a broad face and one damn bigass gun, That seemed ripe to take out ten men, set to stun!
He was muscled and tall, with shoulders like a shelf, And I nearly pissed the suit, in spite of myself! A wink of his eye and a twist of his head, Soon filled me with the chill of an unearthly dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, And filled all the stockings but mine— what a jerk. He gave me the finger, and then thumbed his nose And giving a nod, to the helicarrier rose!
He sprang to his post, to his team, cool as ice, He gave orders to raise up the cloaking device. But I heard him exclaim as they vanished in the dark, “Happy Christmas to all, ‘cept to you, Tony Stark!”