#tragicsnow

“i’m not your fucking nurse-maid you slob fucker.” simon mumbled, picking up the football jersey from the floor. “you don’t even live here.” though he can’t say any better about his home ethic, his own stuff squandered across the the flat. but as he plucked the shirt off the tiled floor, he felt the coolness of it, a hint of sweat, that whaft of scent that hit his nostrils - scent that drove him towards something else entirely.

he bit his bottom lip, head tilted on one side as he called out to baz. “did you purposely leave your dirty laundry just to spark me up? it’s working -” working as in, yes, he wanted to just kiss baz senseless and wrap himself in that scent for a whole morning or two if time permits. “but penny won’t appreciate your clutter, you know?” with that, he tossed the shirt back on to baz’s chest. //

Baz caught the shirt and balled it up in frustration. “First off, it isn’t bloody fucking dirty, just used. And second off, yes, I did... but not for what you’re thinking.” Though he couldn’t be completely mad, since apparently it was ‘working,’ whatever that meant in Simon’s world.

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“Well, Snow, which is it? Do you want me to love you or not? Because I’m not going to lie. And I’m not going to stop loving you.” Watching Simon continue to fall down a path and not knowing how to help him was killing Baz. “Crowley knows why, because if I didn’t love you I wouldn’t still be here. I’ve waited my whole life for you, Simon. I can wait longer,” it somehow felt cathartic to finally let all of that out.

“Shhh - shhh, that better not be a spell.” Simon mumbled chastisingly against Baz’s lips, made raw and pink by his kisses for the past twenty, thirty minutes? It didn’t matter. Only something apocalyptic could pry him away from his boyfriend right now, with his legs straddled on Baz’s tailoured trousers, his tail wrapped on one of Baz’s arms, leathery wings and arms wrapped protectively around the vampire’s frame. Those raven locks felt like silky water through Simon’s calloused fingers. “Penny’s back in a few and we can’t have those walls thinning with what I’m about to do with you.” His lips curled in some kind of a mischievous quirk. “You’re to blame. You’ve made me miss you with that full week away in Oxfordshire. Did you miss me?” //

“Honestly, Snow. I’m not that daft.” It was a spell for spying and or recording a meeting, but he hadn’t put any magic into his words. No, he was just very glad to be making out with his boyfriend for the first time in ages. Okay so maybe it was only a week, but it felt like for-bloody-ever! 

It was still strange to be making out with Simon, mainly because he was being held by Simon’s tail and wings which almost bordered on kinky, but he was most definitely not complaining. “Well, bloody-hell, we can’t have that now can we?” he smirked back just as mischievously. He was eager to learn what it was that Simon was going to do with him. “Nope,” Baz replied in between kisses. “Didn’t miss you at all,” he grinned more as his long fingers tangled in Simon’s bronze curls. “Not one bit.”

Baz was impatiently pacing in the hall in front of the bathroom where Simon was still getting ready. “Jesus, Snow, we’re not visiting the Queen. We’re going to be late for dinner.” He’d finally convinced to Simon to go out with him, outside even, to a place. A nice place that Baz had picked out and made reservations for and now they were going to be late. 

Teen Wolf Sentence Starters // Accepting

“Of course you can,” she sighed, a look of disbelief adorning the blondes face. Her hands were thrown down by her side, her feet planted firmly into the floor - she looked like a small child throwing a tantrum. 

 “I mean, you're Simon Snow,” Agatha shook her head at this, sending strands of golden hair out of place. Arched brows furrowed as she added; “You're the chosen one. There's no doubt that you can handle this.” 

 For a moment, it appeared as though the girl was about to turn to blind fury, taking deep breaths in and out as she stared up at the other. But then her face softened and her shoulders slouched - vulnerability was on full display. 

 “I know you can handle it,” the blonde admitted, a small nod given in affirmation. “But I worry, Simon. I worry about you.” 

 “And can you blame me?” It was a question, yes, but it was also purely rhetorical. Even if it wasn't, Agatha allowed him no time to reply. “Every year there's another near death experience, and you..” 

“Your luck, Simon - It`s going to run out sooner or later.”

@tragicsnow