hi teacups!

anonymous asked:

Obviously there's a scene in your dad hood AU where Jason is pacing around Bruce's study, ranting about how every time he tells Sammy to let something go, to pick her battles, she just glares at him and keeps going twice as hard, and Jason's ranting about how annoying and wilful she is, and Bruce is just sipping tea like, "Gosh. That must be so difficult Jason. I can't imagine what you're going through Jason. However would someone cope with their child acting like that Jason."

“She doesn’t listen to anything I say, I might as well be talking in Chinese!” Jason shouted amid his pacing, arms folded into an angry knot behind his back.

“Must be rough, son” Bruce said with the barest hint of a smile hidden behind his teacup. He’d been waiting for this for years and the rewards were as sweet as he’d imagined.

“She’s reckless and she clearly has no idea what’s she’s doing!” Jason continued to huff, stewing over his ward’s stubborn, adorable face as he patched her from another night of illicit crime fighting. All she had was a ratty sweatshirt and a stolen Robin mask. Who did she think she was?

“Like Tim says, can’t relate.” Bruce answered, now not even bothering to cover up the curve of his lips from his middle son. He could’ve told Jason that parenting wasn’t easy but the boy was used to being on the other side of the relationship. The young man turned to glare at his guardian.

“This is isn’t funny Bruce,” Jason hissed stalking forward and slamming his fists on the mahogany desk as he hovered threateningly over his impassive father figure.

“Of course not Jason; a willful child who won’t listen to you isn’t funny at all.” Bruce continued to not-smile.

“Goddammit B she’s going to get herself killed out there and there’s nothing I can do about it!” Now that did manage to wipe the smug expression off Bruce’s face as he looked into the angry face of his boy. But beneath that anger was a terribly familiar expression, one he saw most days in the mirror. It was terror, a bone deep fear that the ones you loved were drifting away from you and no matter what you did, they’d soon get too far and then disappear entirely and leave only emptiness in their wake. Samantha hasn’t been under Jason’s roof for long but then again, Bruce didn’t have Jason long before he too was lost.

“No she won’t,” Bruce said quietly, resolutely. “And do you know why?” He added on before Jason to open his mouth to reply. “Because you are better than me Jason. You see the problem, you see her for what and who she is, you understand what she needs and what she needs is you.” Taking a chance, Bruce leaned forward and placed one hand atop Jason’s own.

“You’re going to guide her, get her the help she needs, ask for help from us when you need it because you know what’s like to lose and to be lost.” Jason still hasn’t pulled his hand away so Bruce squeezes it lightly. “No one said being a father was easy Jason, but I can tell you it’s absolutely worth it. Be better than I was, be better for her.”

Jason face, normally a canvas of contradictory emotion, was slack except for his eyes which stared intently into his own. At that moment, Bruce would have traded every dollar he had for a glimpse into what the other man was thinking. After a moment, Jay stood up straight and removed his hands from the desk.

“You’re right, I am better than you.” Jason said sternly, “I won't make your mistakes old man and you better not make them either. My kids deserve better than a bitter, broken Batman for a grandpa so you better sharpen your act for their sake or I’ll make your head roll.” Bruce is unable to stop himself reacting with surprise at Jason’s words that causes the younger man to gift him with a rakish grin, so reminiscent of younger, better days.

“Tell Great Grandpa Alfie the whole family will be coming for dinner on Sunday for a big get together. He’ll enjoy the opportunity to put some meat on their bones, not mention embarrass the hell out of me.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and stalked towards the door. “Invite Doc Thompkins too, maybe see if we can open Sam up to the idea of talking to her. I don’t know if she’ll take to it but if that doesn’t work I’ll try something else. Anything and everything if I have to.”

“Of course, nothing less for your children.” Bruce says, his voice thick with the emotions he always tries to bury. Emotions made up of trusting smiles and a cold, dead weight in his arms. But Jason was here now, tall, proud and with 3 wonderful children at home. He couldn’t be more proud if he tried. “Keep reaching for her Jay, don’t let her drift away.”

“Not a chance in hell.” Jason nudged open the door and was gone, “see ya Sunday Gramps.” Bruce composed himself and leaned back in his chair bringing his fingertips together at his lips. He’s been called many things in his life but he thinks Grandpa might be his favorite.

emhahee-deactivated20170506  asked:

drarry hc: Weird habits Or dancers AU Or the one where Harry loves watching Draco do the dishes Or or or Ahhhans

Draco didn’t need to turn around to know that he was being watched. The only thing he just couldn’t figure out was why.

At first Draco was sure he was imagining things, but in the weeks since they’d first moved into a flat together his suspicions had been wholly confirmed.

Harry liked to watch him do the dishes.

Draco couldn’t understand why Harry was constantly staring at him when he did them. At first he’d been defensive, snapping at him that first night that he could certainly do some things without magic and how Harry didn’t need to stare. Only instead of getting angry Harry had looked embaressed before mumbling something unintelligible and leaving the room.

A few days later he’d caught him staring and tried to make a joke of it, “Got a kink that involves yellow dish gloves and a sink of dirty dishes, Potter?”

Harry had just blinked a few times, before closing his eyes and disapperating with a loud pop so sudden Draco had dropped his favorite teacup.

Which is why, despite the fact that he can feel Harry’s eyes on him once again as he cleans up the remnants of the steak and kidney pie they’d had he doesn’t make any funny jokes or snide remarks. Instead he stays silent despite the curiosity burning a hole in his brain.

It’s a few weeks before the subject is broached again.

Draco is puttering around the kitchen, placing the dishes from tea in the sink when Harry comes up behind him, wrapping his arms around him and squeezing him in a firm hug. There’s something shaky in his voice when he whispers “Do you want to know why I like watching you do the dishes?”

Draco is almost too nervous to speak, so he nods instead. He’s almost afraid Harry hasn’t noticed his nod though because he doesn’t speak at first, but then Draco quite suddenly he feels Harry press the side of his face against Draco’s shoulder inhaling deeply before he starts to speak.

“I never thought I’d have this…someone to share things with like this. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were always so angry. She used to slam the dishes into the sink like she resented having to cook or clean for us, or she made me do them. I used to think that was just what family was like. Then I met the Weasley’s and I remember the first time I saw Mrs. Weasley doing dishes without magic…she told me she didn’t mind because it meant she had a family to take care of. You….you look like that when you do them; as if it’s not a chore. It makes me feel,” and at this Draco can feel Harry’s hands begin to shake. “It sounds stupid I know but….seeing you so happy even doing our dishes makes me think you’re happy with me. That we’re gonna make it. That…you won’t ever leave.”

Draco swallows, feeling like his entire world is spinning because they don’t do this….this talking about feelings things often. Both of them have always been better with actions than words. But for once he knows actions won’t be enough.

So Draco turns, placing his hand on Harry’s chin and tilting his head up just a bit so he’s looking him in the eye.

“I’m not leaving, Harry. Not ever. I want this life and I want you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

anonymous asked:

A Hanzo x Reader where some guys try to hit on the reader and Hanzo gets all jealous and protective of them? I love your blog so so much and it's inspired me to try making one of my own, so thank you! :D

Originally posted by lookinggrim

Hanzo is such a beautiful man fuck me dude Honestly, I got excited for this ask cause I live for protective Hanzo hc. Thank you so much for requesting it and for liking my blog!<3 I’m so sorry this took a while to post.

Send your requests here. (Requests are currently closed as I’m getting through the ones I have.)

“I’m a bit surprised you agreed to come out with me.” You sip from your cup, marveling at the cherry blossoms Hanamura had to offer. He looks a bit taken back by the statement but brushes it off quickly.

“And why is that?” He asks crossing his arms over his chest. You turn to him, taking another sip of your tea. This time, however, it is loud and more of a slurp. You giggle as you note a small twitch of irritation in his eye.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed but your rather reserved.” You titter while placing the cup down.

“It was how I was raised.” He points out, fingers reaching for his own cup. “A tough habit to grow out of really.” He looks at you as he drinks. A loud slurp emanating over the rim of the cup. You shake your head laughing at his silliness.  The sound of your laugh shakes his bones while a warmth fills his stomach. His smile is full of pride. There’s some sort of gratification from being the one to make you laugh.

“You’re really something, Hanzo.”

“I shall take that as a compliment.” He tips his cup in your direction like a toast. You laugher dies down, a comfortable silence fills the air around you. The smell of tea and sweets sweeps through the breeze, the small shop buzzing with business inside.

“I was speaking with Genji the other day.” You speak calmly, eyes trained on how the flowers sway with the wind. “I wanted to learn more about Hanamura.”

He frowns, a bit insulted. Why had you not come to him? He would have gladly told you everything there was to know. The sights, the sounds, and everything you could imagine to question.

“He told me about this arcade place not too far from here.” You look at him, expectantly. He knows which one you speak of immediately. It was a place where Genji often went to waste his time instead of working on his duties. “I wondered if you wanted to go?”

Hanzo frowns. “Why did you not ask him to take you?” There’s more malice in his voice than he meant. He did not mean to let his jealousy spill. He clears his throat in an attempt to mask his slip up.

You, however, seem unfazed. “Because I want to go with you.”

Suddenly, he feels a bit childish.

“Ah,” He pauses, toying with the rim of his teacup. He finds himself at a loss for words. Rummaging his head for something say. Should he apologize? Should he simple ignore his sudden spite of words and continue.

You look him over, his face stoic but his eyes show his internal struggle. “Something the matter?”

Hanzo shakes his head before giving you a small smile. “No,” He tries his will at hiding his excitement. It’s a bit hard but he manages for his sake. “I would like that. You wish to go today?”

You nod at him with a smile.

“Very well,” He moved to stand, grabbing his jacket while doing so. “I will go pay for our meal. Then we can head over.” He sees the way your face lights up, a smile pulling onto his lips much more prominently.

It takes him but a moment to reach the counter and pay for the two of you. He thanks the cashier and waiter as he exits back to meet you outside. However, what he sees before him has his boiling. There is a group of three men surrounding you. The leader had moved to place his arms around you as his friends stalk you like vultures. You laugh awkwardly as they continue to pester you with questions and comments.

He takes a deep breath to compose himself. Something within him festers but he moves to swallows his anger. He cannot- will not- stand still as these men pester at you with hungry looks and wandering hands. In an instant, he is at your side. The grace of his footsteps fall silent to their ears but his presence is loud enough to demand their attention away from you. He takes your hand in his, intertwining his fingers with yours effortlessly.

“My dearest,” The roughness of his facial hair prickles your skin. “Forgive for taking long. There was a line to pay.”

You’re a bit baffled by his actions. Hanzo never having been so forward and affectionate with you even during your back and forth flirtations. That is when the reality of the what he is doing it hits you and you decide to play along.

“Oh Babe, don’t worry these men were keeping me company while I waited for you.” You motion over to the men with feigned smile. “See fellas, I told you my boyfriend would be back.”

Hanzo looks over to the men with a look of malice clear in his eyes. They are much larger than him in stature and in height. He, of course, does not falter. His hand grips at your hip pulling you into him protectively. His action causes you to be pulled away from one of the man’s intrusive arm and into Hanzo’s embrace.

“Hah, this is your boyfriend?” One of the men pipes in, looking Hanzo over rather unimpressed. Hanzo simply smiles. It is not gentle nor sweet. It is not a smile he gives you when you joke and play around. It is full of impatience and irritation as they all laugh at him.

“You find that funny?” Hanzo raises a brow, and the man stops to stare at him. The stranger scoffs. He moves closer to the two of you. Hanzo eyes him carefully, instinctively moving to unravel the hand on your hip. He brings it in front of you, gently herding you to stand behind him and away from the approaching offender.

“And if I do?” He asks while straightening his stance. You almost laugh as the leader of the three men tries to make himself more intimidating. His buddies do little but look a bit lost. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Hanzo,” You place a hand on his shoulder as you notice a crowd begin to form. “Let’s just go.”

He looks over his shoulder at as you shoot him a pleading glance. A wave of wretch and regret flushing him as he sees the emotion on your face. Has he taken this too far?

He nods, not sparing glance at the man before him as he turns to walk away. “You really going to leave with this guy, baby?” The man calls after you. “Come on now, I can show you a much better time.” For the second time, the man reaches out to grab at you.

In an instant, Hanzo has him bent over backwards. The strangers offending arm held at an odd and uncomfortable angle as he cries out in pain. Hanzo leans in, looming over him with a dangerous aura. Though, the crowd of people watching are a bit scared at the action, you can’t help but notice how striking his features are.

He looks handsome as is, even gorgeous when he smiles. However, now as his face is hardened, eyes trained with danger, something about it fills the pit of your stomach with excitement.

Damn, he really is something.

“Leave us.” He pushes the man in front of him before letting go of his arm. His friends jerk a few steps back trying to avoid being toppled. The two accomplices go to assist their leader regain himself while nursing his strained arm. He glares a them once last time before taking your hand in his once more. “Come, let us go.”

You’re a bit shocked at the display that just occurred before you. You follow not too far behind him as he guides you through the crowds with ease.

“Hanzo.” You call to him, but he makes no notion to stop. He’s walking much faster than you can keep up with. “Hanzo!”

The way he suddenly stops has you almost colliding into him.

You’re a bit out of breath by how fast he had been pulling him along but give him a reassuring smile. His face looks a bit heartbroken by the gesture and before you know it he pulls you along once more. It’s not long before you’re in an alley between what looks like a ramen shop and an apartment complex. The light of a vending machine illuminating the small space as the sun begins to set. He pulls you to stand in front of him, his hand never leaving yours as he begins to speak.

“Forgive me.” He starts, you cannot hear it but his heart beats rapidly in his chest. “I could not control myself. The way those men looked at you, with such lingering eyes.” He huffs, not realizing he is fuming. The light of his tattoo glowing while he speaks. “He even grabbed at you! I should have done more than just twist his arm. I should have broken it.”

You watch as he seethes to himself, his eyes everywhere but you. Your hand is still in his as you raise it to lightly place a kiss on his knuckles. Immediately, he stops. A blush forms on his cheeks as he finally turns his attention to you very suddenly.

“Thank you, Hanzo.” You smile sweetly at him, his face warms even more by the sight of it. “Come on, let’s go to the arcade.” You lead him out of the alley, before motioning him to continue the rest of the way. He does so silently. You walk a good block or so, still hand in hand, before you speak up once more.

“Jealousy looks good on you, by the way. Your face does this thing that’s kinda attractive.” He scowls, you almost break into laughter when you notice how it’s more of a pout.

“I was not jealous.” He quips back as you swing his and your hand back and forth as you both walk together.

You giggle, his face flushing red at the compliment. “If you say so.”

ISAAC LAHEY X READER

COLD

Desc: Isaac comes to reader seeking help one night, after being locked in the freezer and emotionally traumatized. 

x

For her, there had been nothing out of the ordinary about that night. She sat atop her thick layers of quilts, school papers spread across the bed as she tapped her pencil rhythmically to the soft music coming from her phone. The girl yawned and reached for a sip of hot tea before lazily stretching her legs out and pulling her hair up, a yelp of surprise tumbling off her lips when a face appeared in the reflection of her window. She jumped up at once, rushing over to pull the frame open, the cool night breeze instantly fluttering against her skin.

“Isaac?!” she breathed in surprise.

He was ghostly white, blue, almost, and his teeth chattered as he gave a small tilt of his head, unable to formulate his speech.

“Oh my god, come on, come,” the girl mumbled frantically, hoisting her hands under his arms and pulling the freezing cold werewolf into her cozy and warmly lit bedroom.

She blocked out the starry sky with her blinds and quietly locked her door before giving her attention back to the disheveled boy who sat collapsed on her floor. He wore a grey jacket and ripped black jeans, and his curly honey hair was a mess atop his pale skin. She quickly sunk to his side, pressing a palm to his cheek and reeling back with the cold that stung her. His icy blue eyes tried helplessly to search hers, but she was already on her feet and seizing the blankets from her bed and wrapping them snugly around him. She pulled him into her bed before he could protest, and forced her hot teacup into his shaking hands, his slender fingers wrapping around the hot surface eagerly.

“Drink,” she demanded.

Isaac did as commanded, a warm flush starting to spread in his face once more. He brought his hands around his knees, trying not to quake as he looked over the worried expression on the pretty little thing in front of him.

“Better?” she asked softly.

“A little cold still,” he admitted.

“Oh…” she paused, looking him over for a second before making her mind up at once as she pulled her body into the werewolf’s. He inhaled sharply with surprise, his heart racing as he felt two arms wrap tightly around his body, her body snuggling against his and instantly sending warmth to his freezing flesh. She placed her cheek against the crook of his neck, breath sending tingles of electricity into him.

“Thank you,” he managed at last.

She squeezed him lightly, her bright eyes blinking up at him with concern, “Isaac?”

He hated how just the way she said his name would drive him crazy, and responded with a small grunt.

“Did your dad, did he-” she shook her head, “did he lock you in the freezer?”

“Yes,” he said flatly, as if it was routine by now.

They’d brought it up a couple times before, but he always changed topic quickly, not liking to discuss the matter, and never once had she seen him experience it firsthand, or show up like he had that night.

“Oh my god,” she pulled back, and Isaac stared at her with yearning for her to stay in his arms. “I won’t even bother asking if you’re okay,” she shook her head.

“I’m okay,” he lied.

“No you’re not Isaac,” she rubbed her fingers against her temples, “why didn’t you tell me how bad it was, why are you coming for help now?”

He gulped down the lump in his throat, shaking his curls over his eyes, his words almost inaudible, “I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

She just sat there like a deer in the headlights, and he could hear her heart shattering for him in that moment.

“You’ll always have me,” she stated, “I promise, okay?”

“Okay,” he nodded lightly.

“No, Isaac,” she insisted, fingers crawling under his jaw so as to force his blue eyes to her own, “I don’t ever want you to be like that again.”

He nodded, meaning it this time.

“You should sleep,” she sighed at last, trailing her fingertips lightly against Isaac’s jaw before removing them from his skin.

“I won’t be able to,” he admitted, “because, well, the nightmares…So I can leave, if you want.”

“I don’t want that,” she insisted, “stay, please.”

He sighed with relief, examining the girl who examined him right back.

“What’s it like?” she mumbled. “If you don’t mind answering.”

“Hell,” he responded instantly. “Ironic, considering the cold,” he laughed bitterly, “but, it’s hell. I can’t move, it’s just these walls caging me in, and I feel like I can’t breathe, but I know when I get out he’ll just hurt me again, and I-” he stopped, teeth clenched, eyes fluttering closed.

She didn’t know what else to do, so she hugged him. She barreled into his front, locking her arms around his neck and bringing her fingers gently through his honey hair, feeling him whimper against her, rocking his body slowly as he cried softly into her shirt. She could smell his dark cologne, feel his tears, the quiet shakes of his body, but she embraced him further, giving her every piece of love to the boy in her arms.

“I’m sorry,” he wiped at his misty eyes and pulled away with embarrassment. 

“Don’t be,” she answered, “I should’ve stayed quiet.”

“No, it’s good to tell someone,” he admitted. “It’s just stupid that I cry.”

“It’s not stupid, it’s human,” she reassured gently.

“But I’m not human,” he laughed, a smile tickling his lips as they spread into that grin she loved.

“Oh, right,” she giggled, “but you know what I mean.”

“And you still think the same of me, even with what I am?” he asked nervously.

“I think better,” she said, “because you’re a fighter, Isaac Lahey. My fighter.”

“Yours?” he breathed.

“Oh, well yeah, I just…” her cheeks went searing red, but he only smiled.

“I can hear your heartbeat, you know?” he smirked, listening in to the flutter in her chest.

“Oh god, oh right,” she said, trying to calm her heart, but silently freaking out when it only sped up under Isaac’s lingering intense gaze.

His eyes flickered down to her chest and back up, something registering on his face. “It stopped,” he said.

“What?”

“Your heart, it stopped just now,” he repeated. “Why-I mean how-well what-” he stammered in confusion, but was silenced at once with the set of lips that molded lightly into his own. He inhaled sharply, eyes closing as he sunk into her kiss, his hand coming gently to cup her cheek as he nudged himself deeper into her mouth, drunk off her taste at once. The girl dipped her lips in roughly for the briefest of seconds before retreating, her nose pressed lightly to Isaac’s, giving him one more peck before releasing him altogether.

“So did yours,” she whispered.

Isaac beamed radiantly at her, “and how would you know that?”

“I don’t need to have super hearing to know when I’ve caught you off guard,” she smiled.

“You’ve got me,” the werewolf’s lips twitched.

“And, how do you feel?” she asked.

He paused, eyes crinkling with genuine happiness, the first happiness he’d felt in a long time.

“Warm.”

crazybunny02-blog  asked:

Jealous Hanzo or McCree?

Jealous tropes are MY JAM.  I know it’s supposed to be an unattractive trait but damn, it’s awesome.  I love me some jealousy.


McCree


Even before you and Jesse had started dating you knew he was the jealous type.  But his jealousy was as humorous as it was sweet; he didn’t get violent or even vocal about it–he only pouted like a child.  Sometimes handsy as well, but loving.  The first time you noticed he was jealous was when you were at the shooting range and Jack had made a correction in your posture, placing his arm around you to show you a better shooting technique.  Jesse had been watching you from afar after you banished him for turning a serious shooting session into playtime, but you could still see his shoulders stiffen when Jack stepped closer.  He didn’t relax after Jack left, and instead leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, and mouth downturned despite the cigar that hung from it.  

So it was no surprise to you when you were chatting with a new recruit in the records office when you felt two hands come around your waist and pull you close.

“Hello, darlin’,” Jesse said, placing a kiss on your neck.  The recruit you’d been talking to wasn’t perturbed by Jesse’s sudden appearance, and when you pretended as if Jesse wasn’t there they only furrowed their brow.   You shot the recruit a glare, silently telling him to ignore you boyfriend exactly as you were doing.

“Darlin?” Jesse asked when you didn’t respond.  You continued your conversation, discussing local dining options for the recruit to take his boyfriend.  You felt Jesse’s grip tighten around your waist, trying to get your attention.  His chin rested on your shoulder, his rim of his hat brushing against the top of your head.  His fingers drummed along your sides, playing with the hem of your shirt in an attempt to irk you enough to talk to him.

Still, you had far too much fun making him miserable.  He let out a long sigh, his breath making your neck and cheek hot.  With another heavy huff he stuck out his right hand to the recruit and said, “Afternoon, the name’s McCree.”

Before the recruit could accept the handshake you swatted Jesse’s wrist, making him pull back with a hiss.  Even the recruit had to raise their eyebrows at that.  Just as you were about to part ways you felt a thumb and index finger pinch hard on your bum, eliciting a squeak from your throat.  You tried to jump forward but Jesse’s other arm kept you in place, his hand now flat on your ass.

“Jesse!” you shouted.  As you twisted your neck to face him the recruit dashed off, already seeing how red your face had gotten; they probably didn’t want to stay to find out if it was anger or embarrassment.

“Well you weren’t paying me any attention, sugar,” Jesse said.  You struggled to get out of his grip but all you could do was face him, allowing him to keep you flush against his chest.

“Well are you happy now?” you questioned.  “I’m gonna kill you, is that enough attention?”

Leaning close, his nose bumped yours, his lips still in a grin.  He purred, “Do I look like an unhappy man?”


Hanzo


For someone so quiet and reserved, nobody expected Hanzo to be as possessive of you as he was.  It wasn’t obvious to some, but Genji saw the way his brother stared daggers at anyone that came into your vicinity.  It was so subtle, in fact, that you didn’t notice until McCree had placed his hand just a little too low on your back for Hanzo’s liking.  He was lucky it was his robotic arm, because you were certain Hanzo’s grip was crushing as he carefully removed it from your lower back.  

Of course, you’d given him hell for doing it.  In front of McCree no less.  To a certain degree it was sweet that Hanzo was protective of you but he couldn’t go around hurting people when they touched you, especially if it was your friend and a member of the team.  He gave little resistance, and you could see in his eyes that he knew what he was doing was wrong.  After that it didn’t help that McCree would sometimes go out of his way to wrap his arms around you, all the while sending a smirk to the archer.  Once you kneed him in the crotch for getting a little too happy at Hanzo’s discomfort he stopped, and Hanzo gave a rare grin.

One evening though, as you sat on your balcony with small cups of tea, you saw a small twitch in Hanzo’s lips as you told him about a bad pickup line from a cashier.  You questioned, “Why do you get so jealous?”

He must not have been expecting the question because you saw his adam’s apple bob as he gulped.  His face wasn’t as hard to read as most thought, and you saw as he went through the initial panic from your question to worry with a creased brow, to accepting it with a sigh.  “Do you not get jealous?”

You thought a moment, wondering if you did.  Hanzo didn’t exactly get hit on in public, but you saw the looks some would give him as he walked by.  He was an attractive man, you accepted that he turned heads.  You replied, “Don’t change the subject.  I don’t go around trying to break arms if you shake hands with someone.”

A small grunt came from Hanzo’s throat as he sipped his tea.  

You prodded, “Well?”

“I have not broken any bones,” he finally admitted.

“You nearly took McCree’s arm off and started hitting him with it,” you stated with a grin.

Seeing your smile made the tension in Hanzo’s shoulders relax, his teacup clinking as it touched against the glass table.  “That American is too handsy.”

“He only does it to get a rise out of you.”

Another grunt with pursed lips.  His eyes fell on his cup as he twisted it back and forth between his middle finger and thumb.  You waited, a little impatient, for his answer while he thought.  Finally, he told you, “You are important to me, I do not want to lose you.”

Your chair screeched against the stone balcony as you dragged it next to Hanzo.  You pressed the arm right against his chair and linked your elbow with his.  With a sigh you rested your head on his shoulder.  He continued to twirl his cup.

“Why would you lose me?” you asked.  

“I have done many things in my life,” he replied, “things that make me question if I am worthy of you.”

You flinched up, facing him.  He refused to look at you, and kept his eyes on his teacup.  “You don’t think you’re worthy of me?”

His silence was answer enough.

Taking one hand you pressed it against his cheek and forced his gaze to meet yours.  “Hanzo, please don’t put me on a pedestal.  And don’t worry about what you’ve done making me love you any less.  I love you.  You have nothing to fear.”

Stretching your neck up your lips met his, tasting of the honey he’d put into his tea.  With your forehead touching his you said, “And to answer your question, I do get jealous.  I don’t like it when other people look at you sometimes.”

“What do you do then?” he asked.  His knuckles stroked your cheek, his hand going to cradle the back of your neck.

“I remind myself that you and I share a bed,” you replied, “and I make sure to leave a little mark on your neck that you never notice to prove you’re mine.”

Hanzo hummed as he kissed you again.  “Perhaps I should mark you tonight so that McCree does not touch you tomorrow.”

You smiled.  “Now that, I’m very okay with.”

prelude to the morning scene

as suggested by the wonderful @eilenpanjaya !! thank you

this is set just before the 2x15 sneak peak. let me know what you think!


They had fallen asleep facing each other. At least Alec had. Magnus’ thoughts never stopped racing.  It had been so long since the nightmares had finally stopped and he knew that if he fell asleep, they would return again in full force. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t let his eyelids fall shut and risk seeing those images of his mother… No. Not again.

But the thought of Alec right there next to him eased him. Surely if they were to start again, Alec could – would – help him. But Magnus didn’t want to drag Alec into this. He didn’t want Alec to see this terrible, ugly side of him.

He looked at his boyfriend sleeping quite peacefully beside him and his heart clenched. He wanted to tell him. Badly. He wanted to pour his heart and soul out in front of him and hope that Alec would still be there to clean it up and hold him and love him regardless. He wanted Alec to be there for him like no one before ever had. He wanted to believe that Alec would be different.

Magnus reached a hand out and moved just a few strands of Alec’s raven hair that had fallen into his eyes and couldn’t help the tear that ran down his cheek. Magnus’ hand froze for a second when Alec’s soft snore stopped and he started to stir. Still very much in a sleep state, Alec pressed his face further into the pillow and took Magnus’ hand in his own, pulling it close to his chest before resuming his soft snoring pattern. Magnus felt a lump grow in his throat. He had wanted this for so long.

Instead, Magnus slowly slipped his hand out of Alec’s grasp and made sure not wake him while he slipped out of bed, carefully quiet. He shuffled his way to the other side of the bedroom to slip on his robe before slipping into the main area of his loft. Magnus let out a breath of relief, letting the back of his head fall against the wall as he scrambled to wipe his face clean from any tears.

The morning had silently crept up on both of them, Magnus only registering that Alec would up soon once he heard the hum of traffic getting louder. Alec blinked his eyes open and squinted away from the harsh sunlight that flooded the room. Sighing in content, Alec rolled over and stretched an arm out, expecting to feel Magnus beside him. Instead, all he was met with was a cold pillow and bedsheets that looked fresh, not like they’d been slept in all night. Frowning, Alec swallowed nervously and sat up, rubbing at his eyes.

He stopped and sat still for a couple of minutes, trying to see if he could hear Magnus walking around the loft. But the silence of the apartment was unsettling. Alec got to his feet slowly and picked up a shirt that was lazily strewn on a chair.

Walking up to the doorway of the bedroom, Alec paused when he noticed Magnus sitting at the dining table. He began absent-mindedly scrunching and balling up the shirt in his hands, picking at the strings and chewing on his lip. At first, he thought Magnus looked quite peaceful and contemplated walking over to him and confidently placing a kiss on his cheek.

But upon further inspection, Alec noticed that Magnus had not moved for the past five minutes.  He watched as Magnus held a teacup in his hands and looked into a mirror in front of him. If Alec wasn’t concentrating, he could’ve easily missed the fact that Magnus was breathing. He was so still and Alec found himself frozen, transfixed.

Magnus’ hair was soft and messy, and the usual glitter was absent. But Alec couldn’t find it in him to smile. Magnus didn’t look obviously sad. He just looked… gone? Alec’s heart stammered at the thought of Magnus looking empty and hollow.

He clenched his jaw. Magnus had said he was alright but Alec knew for sure that that wasn’t true. It had happened once with Izzy, he wasn’t about to let his boyfriend slip into anything dangerous. Especially when Alec knew that he had the opportunity to stop it.

Alec took in a deep breath and slowly made his way towards Magnus. He didn’t even flinch. It was like he didn’t realise anyone else was even in the loft.

“There you are,” said Alec softly, pulling the now wrinkled shirt over his head. He spoke and walked silently, not wanting to startle Magnus.

Magnus turned around, blinking rapidly as if to wake himself up for the second time. Or maybe it was the first time. “Good morning,” he said with a soft smile on his face and Alec’s stomach flipped.

This - right here, right now - wasn’t his Magnus. He was sure of it.


i hope you enjoyed, let me know what you think! if you have any prompts or scenarios for me, please head over to my ask box.

in the meantime, magnus loves alec best when he’s high on mundane medicine.

For @whore4batfam @audreycritter and @komadoriwonder I hope this makes you smile today


“You are certain that this time it will work?” Damian asks without looking at Jason.

His attention is focused entirely on his oldest brother. The man is seated in the kitchen engrossed in something on his phone, while a bowl, empty of everything but sugary milk, rests forgotten on the counter in front of him. Damian had been hesitant to try the plan on Grayson, he prefers to pick on his other siblings, but Todd had a point. If he could bring Grayson to irritation then he could successfully get back at Drake for last week’s pasta incident.

“I promise, Tater Tot, it’ll work or I’ll give B a hug.” Jason answers.

“A bear hug.”

“A bear hug.” Jason promises and, without waiting, steps into the kitchen.

Damian knows what to do. He pulls back away from the wall and waits. He waits through Grayson’s small talk and Todd’s brief answers. He taps his toe as he listens to Todd rummage through the refrigerator and take out a tupperware of food before heating it up and at last sitting down on a stool. He gives it another sixty seconds, watching the thin hand tick it’s way across the face of his watch and then he moves.

He walks into the kitchen and he makes a beeline for the teapot. Grayson looks up from his phone and smiles, one hand leaves the phone to wave and Damian nods. He then brews himself a cup of earl grey spoons sugar into the cup and sits down. He is across from Todd, Grayson sandwiched between them.

Damian starts small. He clinks the silver of his spoon against the rim of his teacup over and over with every rotation. He continues stirring long after all the sugar molecules have dissolved.

Keep reading

Steve's baby girl

(A/N): I LOVE THIS SO MUCH *sobs violently*

Request: Can I request a Steve x Reader where they have a child together and it’s a toddler. The baby has Steve wrapped around her fingers but mom doesn’t play no shit and she acts completely different because mom doesn’t let anything slide? lol

Warnings: probably just some swearing


Originally posted by ohevansmycaptain

   From the minute (Y/N) told Steve that she was pregnant he had fallen in love. Their child was only a small little mass within (Y/N) but he already loved them more than anything. There wasn’t a day that went by where Steve would hike (Y/N)’s shirt up and kiss her belly for minutes. There wasn’t a day that went by where Steve would whisper to (Y/N)’s stomach when he thought she wasn’t listening. There wasn’t a day that went by without Steve mentioning how the baby’s room was going to look, or what their name would be, or what color of eyes they’d have. It was obvious that when (Y/N) had the baby Steve was going to be the most loving, caring father there ever was.

   His dotting attitude towards (Y/N) only became worse when the two found out the gender of their baby; a girl. Steve was going to be having a sweet baby girl. Steve had always wanted to have a girl, he’d always dreamed of being able to hold a little blonde haired, blue eyed baby in his clutches, he’d dreamed of singing songs to her every night, he’d dreamed of painting the walls of her nursery in a soft yellow color and adding all sorts of painting to the walls over the years, he’d dreamed of someday being able to walk His daughter down the isle, to see her grow old and have her own children and now suddenly all his dreams were coming true. 

    Steve had been at (Y/N)’s beck and call the entire pregnancy, if she wanted chocolate dipped pickles at 3 in the morning then Steve sure as hell was going to get up and make chocolate covered pickles for her. If she wanted to watch some shitty rom com and cry into Steve’s shoulder the entire time then so be it. But Steve truly began to dote on (Y/N) when she finally gave birth. There wasn’t a moment in the hospital when he wasn’t by her side. Hell, after the delivery he laid in the bed with her as she panted and cried into his neck. In that moment Steve didn’t think it was possible to love anyone more than he did but as soon as his baby girl, Charolette, was placed in his arms he swore his heart damn near combusted with the amount of love within him. 

   The first time he looked down at that sweet little face he knew he was in love. Charlie had blue eyes just like her father and her hair resembled her mothers. Luckily she also seemed to be in good health so she hadn’t inherited all of Steve’s ailments. Her little mouth opened and closed as she yawned and tucked herself against Steve’s warm chest, and her eyes slipped back close as sleep overtook her worn out body. 

   "Hmm, looks like she’s gonna be daddy’s spoiled princess,“ (Y/N) hummed beside him, her voice hoarse from crying in pain and relief.

    "Oh hush,” Steve whispered as he turned his head, pressing a gentle kiss to (Y/N)’s forehead. “She’s gonna be a mommas girl-” (Y/N) chuckled softly as she reached out, running her finger as gently as possible along Charlie’s cute little nose. “Just wait a few years, I’ll be right,” Steve had scoffed at the time but now as he sat in some too tiny chair with a crown upon his head and a plastic teacup in his hand he realized (Y/N) had been correct. 

  “Daddy! Daddy! Can we make cookies now?” Steve sighed as he looked towards the kitchen; the for once clean kitchen. (Y/N) had a day off and decided to clean and she’d done a damn good job too and he knew that if he and Charlie made cookies it would be a mess all over again. “Daddy pwease?” Charlie pouted, giving her father the same puppy dog eyes he often gave (Y/N). Steve sighed but smiled; there was no way he could say no to Charlie, it’s be nearly impossible for him to. 

   "Okay sweetheart but we have to pick up afterwards, okay?“

    "Thank you daddy!” Charlie squealed as she jumped up from her small table, rushing into the kitchen as she waited for Steve. Steve chuckled as he stood up, meandering into the kitchen where Charlie was looking up at him expectantly, a sweet little smile on her face. How could a sweet little kid cause any damage? It wasnt too risky to cook with her…was it?

    “Steven Grant Rogers!” (Y/N) nearly yelled at her husband. Steve flinched, nearly dropping the pan he’d been holding as he turned to sheepishly face (Y/N). “What- what happened?” Steve winced, looking around the kitchen in shame. So apparently a four year old and a grown man could cause a lot of damage. Dough caked the counter and cabinets, all sorts of ingredients covered the floor, not to mention both he and Charlie were caked in everything. 

   "We were just making cookies-“ 

   "Steve, I spent the entire day cleaning that,”

    “I know doll but Charlie wanted-”

    “Mommy!” Charlie squealed as she crawled off the chair she’d been sitting in. “Mommy I made you cookies!” Charlie raised her hands up to (Y/N), showing her the doughy mess she’d created.

    “Thank you baby girl,” (Y/N) smiled softly. “How about we eat some cookies together after I give you a bath you messy little monster?” Charlie’s squealed as (Y/N) picked her up, tickling her sides gently. Charlie cackled as (Y/N) marched off towards the bathroom only after she turned on her heel and mouthed the words “You’re cleaning this mess,” To Steve. He nodded immediately, swallowing around the lump in his throat. 

   As soon as (Y/N) turned the corner he set to work, cleaning the kitchen so well it looked better than when (Y/N) had cleaned it.


    He set the dirtied rag he been using on the counter, sighing as (Y/N) entered the kitchen, a wet haired Charlie in her clutches.

    “Cookies are done,” Steve smiled as (Y/N) pecked his cheek, their free hand patting his chest gently. 

   "Good job honey,“ She gave him a small wink as he grabbed a cookie for both her and Charlie. Steve sat down in one of their chairs, smiling softly as his wife and child ate together.

    "Daddy, will you read me a bedtime story tonight?” Charlie asked as she nibbled on her cookie, smearing chocolate all over her face in the process. Steve chuckled as he reached out, ruffling his daughters hair gently.

    “Of course princess,” Charlie smiled as she finished off her cookie, showcasing her chocolate stained teeth. “After we brush our teeth first,” Steve chuckled as he picked Charlie up, setting her on his hip as he made his way towards their bathroom. He set her down on their sink and grabbed her Disney themed toothbrush all the while piling the child’s toothpaste on the bristles. 

   "Okay, open wide baby,“ Steve whispered and Charlie complied. Her mouth slid open and Steve placed the brush on her small teeth, slowly rubbing it along in smooth circles. It took a few minutes due to her constantly squirming but finally Steve got it done. "Okay Princess, what story do you wanna hear?" 

   "Tell me more about captain america!” Charlie latched her tiny arms around her fathers neck as he laid her down in her pink bed. Steve chuckled as he laid beside her, pulling yet another Disney themed accessory over her, an obnoxiously bright pink blanket with all the princesses.

    Charlie didn’t know about Steve yet, she was too young to understand at this age, maybe when she got a bit older Steve would tell her but for now he contented himself with telling his war stories to his daughter (the pg, toned down versions of course).

    “Captain america was stuck in Austria, he was surrounded-" 


   "She’s got you wrapped around her finger,” (Y/N) smiled as she looked into the room only to find Charlie’s perched atop Steve’s chest, sleeping soundly. “I always knew she was going to be Daddy’s little princess,” Steve smiled tiredly as he patted the spot next to him, a slim bit of bed, just enough for (Y/N) to sit comfortably. 

   "You wanna come join?“ (Y/N) smiled as she tiptoed in, settling down onto the small bed with some difficulty. With his free arm Steve reached over and wrapped it around (Y/N)’s shoulder, pulling her even closer.

    "You’re the best dad ever,” (Y/N) yawned against him, quieting themselves rather quickly afterwards.

    “And you’re the best mom,” (Y/N) smiles softly as she kisses Steve’s neck, making the usually tense man melt into a puddle.

    “I love you Stevie," 

   "I love you too (Y/N),”

    “We make a pretty good team,” (Y/N) whispers as she reaches out brush one of Charlie’s curls away from her eyes. Steve’s heart swelled with pride, not only for his sweet baby girl but for his wife as well, the woman who took his hand in marriage, loved him unconditionally, had given birth to their child. 

   Steve pressed another kiss to (Y/N)’s forehead, letting his lips linger there before pulling back slightly, just enough to rest his cheek against the area he had just kissed. 

   "Yeah we do,“

Dorian comes to stand by his side and turns attention to the sculpture. Together they are always affected by its presence, although Felix would never pretend to be as burdened. There is loss for them both but more so for his father, grief dredged from a long well of memory when his is but a teacup in comparison. He has often wondered if it is a blessing or a curse that there was such little time shared before treachery tore them all apart.

“He would be proud of you, just as I am.”  A hand drops upon his shoulder, squeezing with reassurance. It is a difficult thing to refrain from shrugging away - not from the touch but the deep emotions coating the sentiment. He tries for levity to break away the lump inside his chest.

~Bloodlines chapter one (ao3 | tumblr)

You have no idea how long I wanted to commission @badasserywomen and I finally got the chance! And the result is breathtaking just as expected. Anyway have Dorian and Felix standing before Vaxus sculpture. 

  • AU where Kars crashes into Joseph's back yard while holly is a child. Holly was out there playing when he crashed. Seeing her, he said
  • "Where is Joseph Joestar" not knowing she is his child.
  • Holly, completely immune to his menacing aura, said "Daddy? Let me go get him, so wait here!" She skips into the house leaving Kars awkwardly standing there. She returns a few minutes later
  • "Daddy is on the phone right now so you'll have to wait. So let's play until he's done!"
  • She then grabs his hand and drags him to her room. She pulls out a chest of dress up clothes. "We're gonna play tea party, so we got to get you ready"
  • Kars, for reasons unknown to even himself, plays along.
  • By the time Joseph is done with the phone call, he enters holly's room "Ok holly, where is this friend you were talking abo-"
  • He sees Kars, sitting in a tiny chair, wearing a sun hat, a pair of women's sunglasses, a hot pink feather boa, and poorly applied makeup.
  • "Joseph" Kars says lifting the powder pink teacup to his lips, pretending to drink the nonexistent liquid.
  • Joseph closes the door and walks away 
I did it.

Put me on the list, I’m a sinner.

Irina Katsuki-Nikiforov is starting to go grey, and Yuri has no sympathy for her even though she has made a point of pulling the little silver hairs out of her head and waving them in his face.

“I’M DYING,” she screeches, always Viktor’s daughter even though she could be a Katsudon-clone.

“We’re all dying,” Otabek says into his teacup, and squints harder at the squirrel in the tree outside the window. Otabek and that squirrel have been engaged in a battle of wills for so long that it might now be Otabek and that squirrel’s grandson. “Some of us at a faster rate than others.”

Keep reading

Down the Rabbit Hole (pt. 3)

Previous and Next

Wilford’s bright pink mustache fades like a dying flower, and the cheerful light in his eyes turns into a blazing fire as he rises from his seat, leaning over Amy as he begins to tell her the tale, “Years ago, so many years now that we’ve lost count, Wonderland was ruled by the gracious White King. Wonderland flourished, and creatures could roam the forest as they pleased. There were even villages built beneath the forest’s great flowers.”

“Our village, for instance,” Bim says softly, tracing his finger along the rim of his teacup. “There were few survivors.”

“On the darkest day Wonderland had ever seen, the Red King stormed the White Castle,” the Host whispers. “No one knows what happened to our beloved King, but from that day forward, Wonderland was a different place. The forest became overrun with dark shadows that choke out anything living except for the Red King’s Googles.”

Amy thinks back to the way that the path had slowly become so dark that she could barely see where she was anymore. Was that what the Host was speaking of? “But I made it through the forest.”

“Only because I found you.” Bim smiles at her, and she remembers that same smile shining like a beacon in the shadows. “For whatever reason, I can traverse the forest with little difficulty, likely because of my evaporating skills.” Bim dissipates and reappears in the chair next to Amy. She jumps a bit when he does, but he continues smiling proudly. “When I found you, I knew I had to bring you here before the shadows got you.”

Wilford sits back down and stabs his cake a few times. “But now that you’re here, we’ve no way of getting you back home.”

Amy jumps to her feet. “What are you talking about? I got here, didn’t I? So, there must be some way to get back!”

The Host gives her a sympathetic smile. “Miss Nelson likely arrived here through one of the Red King’s rabbit holes. He likes to open them like portals into this world, drawing in curious young souls. We’ve no idea what he does with them, but when they go searching for a way back, they’re never heard from again.”

Amy backs away from the table. “No.” Her head starts to swim with the thought of never getting back home, never seeing her family or friends again. “There must be some way…”

Wilford pulls his hat down so that the brim of it hides his eyes. “There used to be a way, at the White Castle there was said to be a door that could lead back to your world, but when the Red King attacked, he likely destroyed it.” Wilford looks up at the Host and Bim. “Though, there is the prophecy…”

Host slams his fists down on the table. “No, Wilford. You say that every time!” Host covers his mouth as if he’s said something wrong.

“Every time what?” Amy asks. “What prophecy?”

Bim swallows hard and shakes his head. “Amy…”

“And how do you all know my name?” Amy feels her heart slamming around in her chest like a bird trying to free itself from a cage. “I want to go home!” She starts to run for the gate leading out of the Hatter’s yard when she sees someone approaching from the woods. Four pairs of eyes begin to glow from within the shadows. Red, yellow, green, and blue.

Wilford tips his hat back. “The Googles… Amy, quickly!” She turns to him, and he tosses her a small cake. “Eat it, now!”

Amy, too afraid to question, stuffs half the cake into her mouth at once. Bim races forward and catches her as she instantaneously shrinks down to the size of one of his fingers, and he carries her over to Wilford who slips her inside of one of his teapots, among a motley of hard candies where Amy hides herself.

The Googles approach slowly on horseback lead by the worst of them all, Anti. When they reach the edge of the Hater’s yard, Anti dismounts his black horse and saunters up to the table. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t my favorite trio of lunatics.”

prompt: ssmonth day 23, it was always you.

summary: innumerable heart of the wind / fluttering over our silence of love.   -pablo neruda

note: i missed writing for you all. ssmonth is like christmas. ❀

she’s different now, and he can’t help noticing. were he less prudent, he might have asked the dobe just what it was that made her scurry off to work each time he came around, or why it was she could look him in his stupid face but never at sasuke. he wonders if he wears it on his face each time, the seed of disappointment that digs deeper and deeper into his gut. “she needs time,” kakashi spoke to him one day, his nose deep in the pages of his orange paperback, “give her that, she’ll come around.” this was a level of transparency sasuke would never get used to.

he isn’t certain just when he started keeping mental tabs of her weekly schedule, only that he made it a point to be at hokage tower in the early evenings on tuesdays and on thursday mornings, or near the hospital just about every other day. false coincidence was the name of the game. their encounters were as brief as a short walk down the street, or up the stairs; the leisure of conversation would occasionally bring a soft smile to her face. but something always turned sour, something silent and nagging within her eyes. gaze averted, she would excuse herself to her tasks. peace times were packed with daily tedious work; sasuke never could have imagined hating the sight of her walking away as much as he did now. he definitely never imagined going as far as asking naruto.

“does she hate me,” he spoke one day, a tone low enough that it hardly escaped the low hum of life on the street outside of ichiraku.

naruto set his bowl down mid-sip, and sasuke felt his gut seize up. it couldn’t be a great sign when the human ramen vacuum stopped eating.

the blonde scratched his head, pensively, “it’s definitely not that…” blue eyes grew more reluctant, his foot tapped nervously, “she says she’s just…not sure.”

not sure? sasuke wanted to say, about what? about me? about my character? about loving someone who has quite literally just hurt her over and over and-? sasuke composed himself, “she said that?”

naruto nodded, “i guess she just,” he shrugged, “doesn’t know what you want.” he was silent at this, feeling the tension collect in his shoulders, along with the ever-increasing sinking feeling he experienced when he tried to begin to fathom what he might say to her. 

“hn,” he finally responded, pushing his empty teacup away.

blue eyes turned to meet the side of sasuke’s impenetrable expression. “what exactly do you want, sasuke?”

sasuke put his half of the tab down and exited the stand.


it’s friday, roughly half an hour after her shift at the hospital has ended. he figures just a half hour off work, she’d be taking her time, ambling her way home at a calm pace. it was a nice night. there were three discernible routes from the hospital to her house. the road most traveled crossed through the akimichi bridge. she loves that stupid bridge, he notes, crossing through the various channels of the village, wondering all the while if he has his timing right. the red of the bridge comes into view as he crosses a corner, eyes searching wildly for any trace of pink in the falling night. there, he catches sight of her at just the other end of the bridge, crossing leg after leg down the lane, face upturned to the stars. he wants to stay there, in the shadows, witnessing the small joy of her walking home on a clear spring evening.

just her, and a stupid bridge, and the stars.

he can’t help himself as his feet start carrying him across the bridge, or his voice as it rises up to meet her, “sakura.”

and he can’t help the way his mouth goes dry and every salient thought shoots directly out of his mind as she looks at him with those damned eyes. he wants to tell her just how suffocating it is when she looks at him like that. 

she doesn’t open her mouth to speak, but she looks at him, and for a moment, he wonders just how much she knows.

“i don’t know why it is things aren’t normal for us,” his voice is even, if only a little too low, “and i don’t know why it seems like neither of us can say something-” he stops. her eyes are steady on his own, he finally notices, unblinking, sincere. suffocating.

“you’re looking at me,” he says.

“you’re looking at me,” she somewhat shrugs, her voice low.

“you never look at me.” anymore. he doesn’t mean to be confrontational, but his eyes do not waver. 

green eyes grow deeper in their dolefulness, “i don’t always know that i can.”

this, he tries to breathe, i didn’t account for this. suddenly, every memory comes rushing into him, a life of regrets he can’t swallow and words, actions, he can’t right. pink hair flying into the open air, lost; emerald eyes searching for goodness where it does not live. please, sasuke-kun. he feels for a moment he might just blow away, ashes into the wind, just scattered. her eyes are so clear even in the dark; he knows he’s been here before. all those years ago, looking at her just as he is now—it’s been so long, and she’s finally here.

“sakura,” he speaks her name, hoping she can feel for a moment just how good it is to say it. she looks like she’s preparing, her eyes are dry, bracing for the force.

“i’m going to kiss you,” he says, taking steps toward her, “if you don’t want that, that’s okay. but i’m going to, if you let me.”

her face is composed and beautiful in the moonlight, a graceful yet indiscernible pain growing in her expression as he draws closer. prudently, he reaches his hand up to move the hair from her face. his breath hitches in his throat as she closes her eyes, allowing him to sweep his thumb down the length of her jaw. something stirs in her expression, softening slowly.

he places a kiss on her lips, soft and grateful.

holding her face in his hand as he pulls back, he speaks, “i can’t stay here.”

she opens her eyes at his words, the pain in her face deepens in the slightest, but she does not look away.

“but please let me know i can keep coming back.” to you.

thought consumes her expression as she looks at him now, as she reaches up to touch him. he relaxes beneath the graze of her lithe fingers on his face, wondering absently if he would ever wish to feel this again should she reject him. nothing feels like this, he knows. no one is like her.

“as long as you keep coming back,” she speaks in a voice even and assuring, hands clearing the hair from his eye-line. her gaze is strong, holding his own, keeping him on the ground.

sasuke wishes to stay here forever, breathing her in, frozen in this night.

ok i know that everyone knows they paint their nails but like…rat wears eyeliner too man imagine them painting their nails and putting on eye makeup together before battles  (ノ´ヮ´)ノ*:・゚✧

i bet 5 dollars that hog also sports liner under his mask. also im pretty sure they do make-overs and tea parties just look at the hog man with his itty bitty teacup and excellent pinky finger etiquette

anonymous asked:

Could you do Ereri & either 59, 93, or 98? Whichever you like more or haven't had requested already. I love your writing by the way! You're an amazing author!

Thank you anon :3 These are all very dramatic prompts. I’d try all three but 59 and 93 are kind of contradictory.

93. “I tried, but I just can’t stay away from you anymore.” 

~~

Eren watched the sun go down, and told himself he wasn’t enchanted. Probably. This was how they get you, he’d been told. They make you pine, they mesmerise you.

They drink you dry and you thank them for it even as you become a husk of your former self. Yeah. He’d read all the pamphlets, and none of it seemed right. He couldn’t do this any more; he was becoming a husk of himself anyway, so he might as well go.

As soon as he’d made the decision he hurried to shower, get changed, brush his hair. There was no rush. After Dark stayed open most of the night. Eren didn’t like thinking about what happened after it closed.

It was still rush hour, and the streets were crowded when he entered the tea shop for the first time in weeks. Just the smell of it brought a smile to his face, even as his heart thudded uncomfortably in his chest. There were lots of humans here this early, and he queued up.

Levi did not look pale and interesting, he looked pale and tired. He didn’t wear a velvet suit or a long cloak, he wore an apron and his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, and when he saw Eren standing in line he smiled, and it wasn’t a predatory grin. It was relief. Eren felt awful.

Eren ordered a pot of tea, and reclaimed his usual seat by the window. He’d wait for the rush, and watch Levi work in the meantime, trying to work out if he was enchanted or if he just liked tea or if he just. Liked. Levi.

The rush dwindled. Humans went home for dinner. The others would trickle in later, after work, after feeding, after dancing, after whatever it was they did.

“Haven’t seen you for a while,” Levi said, and Eren smiled and pushed the other chair out a little in invitation. “Been busy? Well, I hope.”

“Yeah, I’m well.” Couldn’t he tell? “I just.” Eren wrapped his fingers around the teacup, warm as he knew Levi’s fingers were cold. Levi had missed him. Of course he had. “I tried, but I just can’t stay away from you anymore. Did you enchant me?”

Levi recoiled, frowning. “You know I don’t do that shit.” He ran his hand through his hair, and Eren realised he’d offended him.

“I’m sorry.”

“How do you feel?” Levi asked.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Uh, miserable? Like I’ve fucked up?”

“There you are, not enchanted,” he smiled faintly. “If you were you’d be floating on cloud nine just because I’m talking to you.”

“Oh,” Eren sighed with relief. Not enchanted. That meant he just, uh, just fucking confessed, and Levi could probably hear the blood rushing to his face.

The bell rang over the door and Levi got to his feet to get back to work. “You’re cute, Eren. I’ll see you later.”

“Now I’m totally enchanted,” Eren said, grinning at him, and he knew Levi’s disapproving frown was feigned.

He couldn’t stay up until After Dark closed without wrecking his sleep schedule, but Levi let him in past the counter, and he curled up on the couch in his living area and napped until cold fingers against his cheek woke him up.

“You need to go home. Do you want me to walk you?” Dawn was a couple of hours off. Maybe he’d messed up his sleep schedule anyway. Eren sighed, thinking about other mornings like this, the quiet walk home, the sense of disappointment when Levi bid him farewell with a nod.

He sat up, rubbing at his eyes, and Levi sat beside him, so his earlier faux pas was clearly forgiven. Levi still looked tired. He’d never met a vampire so, so human, and Eren opened his mouth before he could think about the words.

“What’s it like being bitten? I want to try it.”

Levi opened his mouth, and shut it, and Eren realised he’d flustered a vampire. Amazing. “It’s like sex,” Levi muttered, looking away. “That’s why you don’t just ask for it out of nowhere like that.”

“What am I supposed to do then?” Eren asked, leaning forward, delightedly pushing his luck. “Cause now I really want to try it.”

anonymous asked:

I love your Natsume fics! If you are still taking requests could you do something with some sort of father/son bonding between Shigeru and Natsume?

x

Takashi doesn’t know Shigeru is home early when he comes in – which is probably the only reason he slams the door closed behind him hard enough that the panes rattle, and kicks off his shoes with more force than necessary.

Shigeru blinks, and sets his book aside as the boy storms around the corner like a small hurricane.

“ – can’t believe him, how many times do I have to say it?” he’s muttering fiercely to the fat cat trotting by his ankles. “Sometimes he makes me want to just – oh.”

Shigeru very barely manages to bite back a smile at the way Takashi stops dead in the doorway of the kitchen. Nyangoro crosses the room at a saunter, hopping up to settle on the seat of Touko’s empty chair and tucking his paws in comfortably.

“Nyangoro has the right idea,” Shigeru says, nodding towards Takashi’s chair. “Come and sit. I’ll lend a better ear than your cat probably will.”

There’s an obvious war going on in Takashi’s golden eyes, but teenage temper wins in the end. He shrugs off his school bag and sits with a thump, simmering with a very rarely shown irritation.

Intrigued despite himself, Shigeru watches as the usually mild-mannered Takashi struggles visibly with what he wants to say and what he thinks he shouldn’t. He’s frowning deeply, the closest he’s over come to scowling at his foster father and Shigeru shouldn’t be delighted by it, he knows he shouldn’t. Most parents probably don’t yearn to see their children throw fits and act out, but he has long since accepted that he and Touko aren’t most parents.

“Friend troubles?” Shigeru offers after a moment. Takashi flicks a quick look at him through his fringe.

Tanuma.”

“Ah,” Shigeru says mildly. Boy troubles, then.

Keep reading