hi heel sneakers

cinnamon. (jondami)

damian wayne runs away from home quite often. 

jon kent receives a lot of night-time visits.

1.4K+ words.

    Stupid, fools, the entire lot of them. Damian couldn’t believe it. They were all protecting that pathetic excuse for a human. That was the exact opposite of what they stood for, wasn’t it? Defend the innocent, bring justice to the criminals who ran around, acting as if they owned Gotham City. They didn’t. This place belonged to him. Not them

He heard a minuscule beep, and remembered to yank out the comm in his ear, crushing it with the heel of his sneaker. What he couldn’t break, par Oracle’s insistence that they didn’t stop functioning when someone socked you right where the little device was located, he pushed off the building. He had cleared himself of any tracking devices right when he exited the Cave. It was a miracle that he didn’t do the same to the comm, but it received the same treatment as all the others, just at a later time.

He scoffed, the air out of his mouth turning into a billow of cloud with the way the temperature was dropping. Gotham was always chillier at night, even without the threat of winter coming. He was grateful for the cloak that enveloped his frame, keeping him warm, or in a more accurate manner, warmer. It didn’t do much against the cold. 

He had gotten pretty far already, since at least a half of it was by one of his father’s precious bikes. He had crashed it somewhere, not caring in the slightest. He was leaving Gotham, and Wayne Manor was no longer visible, that is, if he actually looked back.

He ran, jumping across the rooftops without hesitance. This was his home…or was it? He shook his head at his thoughts as if trying to get them out. Ridiculous.

Run, run, run, that was all he did. Normally, he would have gotten tired by now but his energy remained considering his adrenaline, left over from the fight that had exploded between him and his father. Along with the breeze nipping at his cheeks, it numbed him. 

If you asked him, he didn’t know where he was running to. But no one did, so he continued his escapade. He found one of his cycles hanging in the alley below him, he was tempted for a moment but knew it contained yet another tracker, so he passed on, forgetting.

His mind was eerily quiet as he exited the city that he protected.

There was the familiar setting of land once he had separated himself enough from the over-populated and ever-polluted Gotham. He scampered up a tree that was still sturdy but soon to show signs of age. 

His gloves cupped at the seam of the window that kept insects from crawling in through the tiny crack that was at the base, ready to open it and slip inside.

What was he doing here? 

He paused at the sudden thought. It had been the first one of those in a while. He couldn’t answer it, however, and so he pushed it to the back of his head to remain for some soul-searching time later on. Eh, probably not, ever.

‘‘-Tt-’‘ The window had been left unlocked. Good for him, but idiotic for the boy inside the bedroom he was technically breaking into. Not that he thought of it that way, of course. This was a…house call. Yes, a house call.

He went inside with a low whoosh, looking around the room he had entered. It wasn’t messy, but it wasn’t necessarily clean either. Just enough so a boy’s mother wouldn’t pester, although there would be a few ill gazes.

‘‘Not tonight.’‘

His focus landing on a shaggy haired teen, who had his face buried in his pillow, his body moving slightly with every breath.

‘‘Hmm, is this a bad time for you? Should I come back on Monday morning then?’‘ Damian replied with a sneer.

Jon groaned, lifting his face up from the pillow, and taking a glance at the shadowed figure standing in the corner of his bedroom. Somehow seeming much more alert than he had been a simple five seconds ago.

Damian removed his gloves and mask, things that seemed pointless here. He clenched and un-clenched his fists multiple times to get the feeling back into them.

‘‘What happened?’‘ The blue eyed boy leaned against the wall behind his bed, patting the spot next to him, although that never worked. This time wasn’t any different it seemed as Damian paced the perimeter of his room, completely ignoring his suggestion.

‘‘They’re imbeciles!’‘ A burst of rage seemed to suddenly explode from Robin, his hands gesturing wildly to emphasize every word that came out of his mouth.

‘‘Are they now, Dami.’‘ Jon said smoothly, knowing the slightest hint of anything could set the other’s anger on him instead. ‘‘Quiet down, alright.’‘

‘‘Yes, yes they are.’‘ Damian huffed. ‘‘I was working with father on a case, and he wanted me to scare one of the men so they’d leave town along with their business. Drop a smoke bomb or something of the like. That was nothing. This man, he, he did unspeakable things toward several animals. He deserved a reckoning and I was that.’‘

Now Jon was a little frightened, that could either mean his partner had roughed said man up a bit, or gone the whole nine yards, death and all.

‘‘What did you do?’‘ His voice came out more stern than he had meant for it to be, and Damian raised an eyebrow.

‘‘What did I do?’‘ The costume clad vigilante laughed, one without any humor, dry and bitter. ‘‘I made him pay for his sins.’‘

Jon opened his mouth to say something but Damian held up a hand to silence him.

‘‘I didn’t kill him, Jon. I wanted to but I didn’t. I came pretty close though and you know how everyone is about that.’‘ The Arabian male seemed sad, if anything, just a hint.

The son of Superman extended his hands up and Damian relented, he looked weakened. Damian sat down in silence and Jon shifted around to give him room to himself, but a tanned hand gripped his wrist. 

‘‘No.’’ A single word uttered.

‘‘No, what?’‘ Jon spoke, confused.

A shake of his head.

Jon sighed, shuffling forward and gently cradling the scarred hands that were gripping him, their hold released but Jon didn’t let go.

‘‘You did good, okay? Understand?’‘ He meant it. He knew how brutal Damian could be and what it meant for him to go against his basic programming.

A hesitant nod.

“Well, I’m proud of you.’‘

Damian gave him a wide-eyed look, one that was rare when it came to the youngest Wayne.

‘‘I’m also extremely tired, and although I enjoy our talks, I need my sleep so can I go to bed?’’ A yawn slipped out of his mouth.

‘‘Yeah, I’ll get going.’‘ Damian was already putting his mask on. Not his physical one. A sort of look that passed over his entire face, making him cold to everyone.

Now it was Jon’s turn to raise an eyebrow.

‘‘Say what now? You’re staying.’‘ 

‘‘But-’‘ Damian began.

‘‘It’s late and mom would kill me if I let you go like this.’‘ He interrupted. ‘‘You know where the PJs are at, grab yourself a pair and get into bed before I change my mind or dad does one of his ‘checkups’.’‘

‘‘–Tt–I’m not gonna fit.’’

‘‘So? When has that ever stopped us before.’‘

Damian rolled his eyes and Jon grinned. That was good. It meant that he was coming back to himself. Superboy laid down on his side facing the wall, listening to the rustling of the multiple layers of Robin’s costume being removed, more rustling. 

Tomorrow, Damian would go back home like he always did. There was no need to discuss that.

After a bit, there was a small dip in the bed from new weight being placed onto it, and he could feel Damian’s warmth pressed up behind him. He promptly turned around, placing his ear right up against the other’s chest, hearing the thump of his heart-beat. It was soothing. A lullaby. It was what he tuned into, all the way across to Gotham, to help him sleep through the night. Damian sighed, but for once it wasn’t in annoyance, but bliss.

‘‘Good night.’‘

‘‘Good night.’‘

He had the vague sense of a arm around him but the comforting darkness was already enveloping him.


Christmas Gifts

A/N: You all have been amazingly patient for an update, but beyond that you have been so loving of my Rami stories….so coming off my hiatus I’ve decided to share a story which has been in my phone for months for Mr. Robot. Enjoy and let me know your thoughts?

Request: You tell Elliot you love him for the first time.

Words: 1349

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

did you ever write the fic rec ? 😮


prairie town by applecrumbledore  

The auto shop mechanic knocked the kickstand of his motorcycle down with the heel of his sneaker. He had pale blond eyelashes and a full mouth, wrinkled white t-shirt tight around his arms, jeans over big thighs. No edges. Loud in both volume and presence. Sasuke fidgeted with his hands inside his pockets.

this is an sns fic that i swiped from anges blog the author is like kinda cursed tho but it’s really good and has naruto and sasuke riding a motorcycle together. small town vibes and a really cool interpretation of how naruto and sasukes trauma would translate to a modern au

Monogatari by superpol 

One day he quits the Kazekage position, looks to the horizon, and disappears.

by far the best narugaa fic ive read! gaara is a farmer and i defs rec this to anyone even if ur not super into narugaa. an amazing character analysis on gaara and a really great fix it fic that handles his trauma and healing well! i think this is the only fic on this list rated M btw! 

houses swallowed by the earth by cambion 

In which Sasuke leaves Konoha still, but this time not alone.

i dont like this author that much but they also have objectively the second best naruto blog out here @yondaiime. (jk i love ange) a really cute and quick fic with really fun interactions between sasuke and taka and nart and sakura! 

Baby Animals, Weddings, and Other Things Not Normally Associated With Sasuke Uchiha by prettypriestess 

In which Konoha needs to upgrade their plumbing to be more resistant. (Or, the one where Sasuke and Naruto get genin and maybe someone buys a house.)

this was a really fun and cute fic! its written in like 2k12 so like it still has some tropes and shit im not a fan of and ~sexy jutsu~ use that im p critical of. but! naruto and sasuke adopt kids basically and i love that

Baker’s Dozen by mylilchickadee 

In the aftermath of war, Sasuke struggles to deal with his new life while Naruto struggles to deal with him. Love, friendship, and baking. Mangaverse COMPLETE

i really really enjoyed this fic and think its one of the better ones for portraying sasuke being depressed and suicidal in a way that doesnt make my skin crawl. i thought they handled some p interesting themes and topics in a really good and thorough way and it made me really emotional. trigger warnings for: suicidal and violence tho! 

The Spaces Between Us by stripeypirate 

The year is 1985. Sakura Haruno waitresses at a local diner and wonders if dropping out of nursing school means she’ll be stuck in sleepy, small-town Bedford Falls for the rest of her life, forever in her best friend’s shadow. Sasuke Uchiha’s a man on the run, thrust into a world deeper and darker than he ever anticipated.

The chilly Northwestern wind brings change as lives collide, and hearts are bared (as well as broken). The Double R Diner sits at the center of it all- but its foundation will need to be strong enough to weather the storm

(Falling in love with your best friend can be just as bad as falling in love with your worst enemy).

objectively the best naruto fanfic ive read. this is an inosaku and sns one! its a small town diner fic and is really well written and updates p regularly!! 

What About You by cambion 

“No one knows they’re gay when they’re twelve, Sasuke.”
“I did.”

Or, the fic in which Naruto’s best friends are both gay and he has a lot to figure out about himself. Vaguely post-699 ish.

theres an ongoing joke that ange is the only good fic writer in this fandom and honestly still holds true. another sns fic! this one has sasuke and naruto ~finding themselves~ in the woods and im really pumped for it to update! 

Words That Water Flowers - Chapter 7 - DecemberCamie - Hunter X Hunter [Archive of Our Own]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

Title: Words That Water Flowers

Total word count: 12768 -> Chapter 7 word count: 3867

Chapters: 7

Chapter 7 summary:

Mamihlapinatapei (Yagan)- a wordless, yet meaningful look between two people who both desire to initiate something, but both are too scared to initiate themselves

Only five more chapters to go after this one! Can you believe we’re this far into the story already?

I wrote this whole chapter in one night so I’m sorry if its not cohesive ^^; Also, there might not be a chapter next week? Maybe? I’m not a hundred percent sure yet, it depends on what happens with my tests. If I have to push it back a week I’ll make sure to leave a note somewhere on my tumblr. Other than that, I hope you enjoy this chapter! This is the last semi-fluffy chapter for the rest of the story, by the way.

Thank you in advance for reading!

“How’s that list going?”

Gon glanced over his shoulder, brow puckering. “Huh?”

“Your list,” Killua repeated. He dug the heel of his sneaker into the dirt and pushed himself forward. “Don’t tell me you can’t remember. I know you’re forgetful, Gon, but c’mon. I’m hurt.”

Gon stuck out his tongue. “I didn’t forget! I just…”

“You just-” Killua grunted as he threw his leg over a fallen tree trunk, “- what, exactly?”

“I ran out of people to add to the list,” Gon admitted.

Killua took a second to catch his breath, looking over at his best friend. Gon’s face was a blotchy mess and shone with a layer of sweat. But the way his hair flopped over, falling into bright gold-brown eyes, was enough to make Killua’s heart lurch.

He abruptly turned away, ears burning. It should be illegal for Gon to look so damn good like that- all disheveled and hot and-

“Killua? Are you oka-”

“Fine!” Killua straightened up and started the long and laborious trek the hill again. He could feel Gon’s worried stare digging into the back of his head but he ignored it. They’d been over this on the drive here; Killua could spend one day out in the wilderness with his best friend. The marigolds inside his chest wouldn’t stop him from enjoying the first warm day of spring.

Or he hoped so, at least.

Keep reading

Will You Ever Win [a Barry Allen AU] (Part 15)



| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 |

Barry is embarrassed. He just cried during sex and…well, he can’t get up to face you. Tears drip on the baby blue tiles, creating little puddles in the white cracks. His arms wrap around his knees, which are pressed against his chest; chin nuzzled his legs. He doesn’t want you to feel bad…oh, but here comes the waterworks again!

There’s a knock on the other side of the door. “Barry?” you whisper, slipping your pajama tank top back on. “Can I come in, baby?” Your ear presses to the wood, only hearing faint cries. It’s hurting, not knowing what exactly went on. A moment passes and then the doorknob turns, allowing you to enter.

With red blotchy eyes, Barry peeks up at you, eyelashes feeling heavy. Swallowing, he sucks in a breath, “I…I’m s-sorry… Ev-everything hap-pened s-so fa-ast and - and I-I-I…” he sobs, gulping, wet tears streaming down, “Wa-wanna be li-like th-at all the t-time… I wa…wanna b-be taken c-care of…” he admits, suddenly feeling extremely small.

Frowning, you bend down in front of him, hand caressing his hairy cheek. You stare into his soft green doe eyes. “Hey, hey, that’s okay for you to feel that way.” you coo, brushing back his messy locks. “Just tell me next time, baby boy, don’t run away.” you crack a smile, tilting his chin up; he sniffles. “What do you wanna do today?” you ask, thumb rubbing his scruff.

Barry pauses for a moment, sniffling and gazing around the tiny bathroom. Timidly, he points to his left, gulping, “C-can yo-you gi-ve me a b-bath? I-I kn…know I t-took one th-th-the oth-ther day, b-but…” he trails off, ducking his head in embarrassment. He feels like a damn child right n- Blinking, he hears the water splash, tub being plugged.

Quietly humming, you wait for the bathtub to fill up before adding some soap to the warm liquid. You hold your hand out for him, grinning when he takes it, standing on his knees beside you, rubbing his upturned nose. “Whenever you’re ready.” you nod, brushing your hair out of your face..

Slowly, he climbs into the water, sniffling and sitting. His legs are slightly spread, shoulders hunched. You squirt some shampoo in your hand, inhaling the strawberry scent before scratching his hair. His eyelids flutter shut, a sigh pushing past his lips. “Th-thanks…m-mommy…” he whispers, feeling your fingers rake through his hair. You scrunch your nose, dipping your index finger in the bubbles, collecting some and painting it on his chin; he giggles, bringing his shaky hand up to do the same.


Shaking the blow dryer, his damp locks flow back, your fingers running through them. He leans into the embrace, lips upturned into a gentle smile. “All your life you’ve never seen a woman taken by the wind…Would you stay if she promised you heaven…will you ever win…” you sing softly, readjusting your knees on the fluffy carpet, “Rhiannon….”

Sniffling, Barry curls his legs against his bare chest, calming down. He hums along with the lyrics, awkwardly stopping when the blow dryer shuts off. He didn’t want it to end. But, sadly, you turn your head to the side, waiting until there’s another knock on the door downstairs. A sigh wrecks through him and he shrugs a soft navy t-shirt over his fluffy hair. He’s not putting on pants.

The stairs creak as you pad down them. “M-mommy….” he says timidly, making you skid to a stop, “C…can we d-do so-so-something la-later?” he asks, frowning deeply into his scruff while he plays with the hem of his shirt. Ugh, this must be so awkward for you…

“Of course, baby boy.” you mumble, shooting him a grin. Your hand twists the doorknob, yanking it open; pajama bottoms swaying on your bare legs. “Cisco!” you beam, taking in the Meta Human CSI. “What’s up?” You step back, letting him walk through the doorway.

Cisco grins from ear to ear, keeping his hands tucked in his pockets of his tan pants. “Actually…” he trails off, spinning on the heel of his violet sneakers, peering up at Barry, who’s leaning on the wall. “I need your help.” he cringes, pointing at the other man and pulling a plastic baggy from his pocket. The dark purple button down moves around his galaxy cat t-shirt. “I…I need forensics advice. Julian is busy… please?” he begs, big brown eyes squinting above a forced smile.

No, no, he hasn’t done anything like that since… “I-I c… I c-ca-can’t…” Barry shakes his head, retracing his steps back up the stairs, “I…I-I’m s-sorry…” he mutters, blinking back tears. He won’t cry in front of people, he won’t.

“Can you just please look at it, please?” Cisco tries again, craning his neck as he steps forward. You keep yourself from sighing. You know he isn’t going to.

Barry shakes his head vigorously, pressing the back of his hand to the side of his mouth, hiding the scruff on his cheek. “I…I c-can’t!” he shouts, racing into the bedroom. Your heart drops, sighing slowly.

Slumping his shoulders, Cisco bites the inside of his cheek, turning to you. “I’m so sorry, I never meant to do that, I just…” he trails off, gulping. He feels so bad. He didn’t mean to push him that hard…

“It’s okay, Cisco.” you reassure, gripping his upper arm gently. “He…he’s having a tough time with…with everything. It’s not your fault, I swear.” you smile sadly, eyes bouncing towards the stairs.

He frowns but nods, “I understand.” he huffs, walking to the door, “It was a long shot, anyway.” he shrugs, “But, it was nice seeing you. I probably should get back to work.” he grumbles, shoving his hands in his pockets, sneakers bending on the edge of the door.

Nodding, you rest your body on the door, “You too, Cisco. See you around, hopefully.” you sigh, closing the door slowly. You let your palm press to the wood for a second before you venture upstairs. “Barr?” you call out, jogging to the bedroom. Your hand curls around the brass knob, jiggling it. Locked. “Barry, please!” you beg, trying the knob again. “Please don’t shut me out! Please!”

His body vibrates with sobs, but he manages to stand on wobbly legs, shuffling over to the door. Suddenly he feels dizzy. His palm slams hard on the wood, followed by his shoulder hitting the door frame. Sniffing, his hand spins the knob and there’s a click. When you enter, he doesn’t waste time falling in your arms, nose tucked over your shoulder. “I-I’m so-sorry, ‘m s-orry.” he repeats again and again.

Your mouth just touches his pale skin, worried eyes peering over his shoulder and arms wrapped around his torso, hands rubbing his back. “Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay…” you soothe, drowning out his whimpers.

Barry feels he’s in an earthquake; head spinning and chest tight, taking his breath away. Then, it all goes black and he feels limp.

anonymous asked:

jimon + "You love me, don't you?"

Jace is a foot away from the door when he stops. He turns around, very slowly. The heels of his sneakers scratch against the carpet as he turns.

His face is the picture of sadness. There is some melancholy mixed in with hopelessness there, too.

He sighs and looks at Simon, and then away, and then back at him. Finally he turns away, and runs a hand through his hair.

His bottom lip trembles.

“You love me, don’t you?” he says quietly, his voice rough with emotion. “Or maybe you don’t anymore. Maybe you never did. Maybe it was all in my head and you’ve never even liked me.”

Finally Simon stands up from where he’s been lounging on the couch. He walks up to Jace, and puts a gentle hand to his cheek. He smiles.

“Jace. We’ve been married for 5 years. You know I love you. But I’m still going to make you go pick up the pizza.”

With a grin, he pats Jace on the cheek and goes back to his spot on the couch.

An overtly dramatic sob escapes Jace’s throat, and Simon rolls his eyes.

“I know you too well to let you get away with that!” he calls over his shoulder.

Jace pouts.

“But I put in the order. That means you gotta pick it up. We established that in our vows. How can you break our vows, Simon?”

“We did not,” Simon says firmly, “You just don’t want to go out in the rain.”

Jace stamps his foot a little. “I really, really don’t. Please don’t make me.”

Simon shakes his head. “We had a deal, babe. You pick up the pizza and I’ll give you head tonight.” He turns around on the couch and cocks an eyebrow. “Are you really willing to give up that blowjob just because of some rain?”

Jace considers this for a moment, and then pouts even more which is actually quite a feat. Then he groans. “Alright, I’ll go. But it better be a fucking amazing blowjob. And amazing pizza.”

Simon blows him a kiss, and turns back to the TV with a big smile on his face.

Fic: It All Began at Starbucks (Chris Evans x Reader)

A Chris Evans x Reader Fanfic

Summary: Chris & Reader meet while waiting in line at Starbucks, both in between flights at LAX. This was prompted by Starbucks Anon.

Dedicated to: Starbucks Anon, @kryka83, @raveviolet, @evansscruff , and @shamvictoria11. Thanks for making this one possible, loves! xx

Note: This is my very first Reader fanfic, so please be kind. (It is so much harder than I thought it was going to be! Kudos to you guys for writing phenomenal reader fanfic! Jesus, you guys rock.) Also, I apologize in advance for the amount of sucky this turned out to be! Thanks for reading!! xx

If you would like to be added or removed from the taglist, let me know! :)

@pleasecallmecaptain @misshyen @mrs-captain-evans @imagine-assembling-the-avengers @melyssamariev @mumbles411 @ek823 @stayweirdandbeehappy @sanddollarsandstars @hibaabdo @evansscruff @princessofglitterland @raveviolet @wxrmxchinerox @a-wazo29 @whostheblondegirl @lovebug8301 @deansbaby67supernatural @thegirlwiththeimpala @shesaramblingriot @thyme-to-wonder @rogerscastillos @ididnotseethatcoming @geektastic84 @yougottalovefandoms @dawn-phantomhive @m-iglesias @youvegotyourvictory @sarahmatthews7 @time-lord-of-fandoms-97 @mya334 @faerieliights @ambergadiare @herorogerss @luna-swift @heather-lynn @mylexlife @katanajo @mecotter1 @captain-almighty @swissgirl10 @ya-girl-evanstrash @kingdomofparis @andreinaalvizo-blog @pitabread79 @toc1985 @claras-wintersoldier @shipperstoriesstuff @buckyisapunk @captainameriea @nerdwholikesword @inscribed-star @mculove @prettylittlerose21


Distracted. That was how Chris first found you at the Starbucks in LAX while waiting for his connecting flight.

“Can I help you? Ma'am? Ma'am.”

You were staring off into space while the barista called for your attention – or so he assumed since all he could see from standing behind you was your long hair tied back with a purple elastic –, and he couldn’t help the slight pique of interest in knowing what had been occupying your mind. He was a nosy fucker.

“Ma'am, are you ready to order?”

Placing an encouraging hand on your lower back, noting you were probably a foot shorter than him, Chris ducked his head low and murmured, “Hey…”

Keep reading


It’s unfair, you’re the only one growing up.


Ta-da! Here’s some salty Lucas and naturally hilarious Zay for your Tumblr travels :).

If you have any prompts/headcanons etc. you want written about for Lucaya, my virtual door is always open! Just send an ask and I’ll get right on it ~x~

(Let’s be real, Zay was probably doing this to get his otp tg. Nice going Zay.)

It had been going on all week.

When Zay had first hollered a pick-up line from across the art room to Maya, Lucas had laughed it off.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

"Please, my roommate and I just had a huge fight, he's locked me out, and I have nowhere to go. Please can I crash at your place tonight while he cools off?" Percabeth AU

Annabeth heard the shouting before she even opened her door. But as she picked up her empty laundry basket and headed out into the hallway, she would be surprised if the entire campus didn’t hear the raging argument coming from dorm twenty three.

Just as she closed her door, the one opposite opened and the loud voices became even louder as the fight spilled outside. Annabeth was frozen as the two boys continued to yell at each other and eventually the one with dark hair backed out into the hallway - holding a stuffed Panda for some reason - and slammed the door after him. He leaned back against it, clutching his pillow to his chest and resting his head against the wood with his eyes squeezed shut.

“Lover’s tiff?” Annabeth asked.

He lifted his head and sighed when he clocked her. “I must have done something terrible in a past life.”

She rolled her eyes and started walking down the hall, speaking over her shoulder at him. “Like what, Percy? Accidentally knocked on the wrong door at four o'clock in the morning a few hundred times?”

Percy hurried after her. “That was like, one time–”

She raised her eyebrows at him. But he just grinned. “Besides, if that happened then I would never have gotten to see you in those awesome hello kitty jammies.”

Annabeth pushed the door to the laundry room open with her hip. “Thin, ice, Jackson.”

“Uh huh, sure.”

She knelt next to one of the dryers and started pulling her clean laundry out. “Besides, I don’t think you can comment on my pyjamas when you sleep with a Panda Pillow Pet.”

Percy hopped up onto the machine next to hers and started swinging his legs so that the heels of his sneakers drummed against the glass door. He clutched said Panda to his chest. “Hey, this thing has got me through some rough times, okay.”

“Is that why you carry it around like a security blanket?”

“Hey, I’m carrying it with me out of fear.”

She looked up at him. “Out of fear? What exactly are you afraid of that a stuffed Panda will protect you from, Percy?”

He gave her a snarky look and she stuck her tongue out at him. “Not like that,” he said. “If I leave it in my dorm, my crazy roommate will attack it.”

“Come again?”

Percy leaned forwards with his elbows on his knees. “He is actually insane. I woke up this morning to find him pulling this pillow from under my head with a knife in his hand.”

Annabeth’s eyes bugged. “Are you serious?”

Percy nodded emphatically. “Yes. I’m telling you, he belongs on the psych ward.”

Annabeth finished getting her clothes from the dryer and closed the door, standing up with her basket and placing it on her hip like it was a child. Percy hopped down and followed her.

“You should go to the student adviser and request a different room. What the heck did he want o do with your pillow anyway?”

“Hell if I know, I couldn’t get a straight answer out of him. That’s why it turned into a screaming match. And it’s a Sunday, I can’t go to them until tomorrow.”

“What are you going to do tonight?”

Percy suddenly looked a little sheepish. “Well…”

They’d reached Annabeth’s dorm again and she pulled her key out of her pocket and raised her eyebrows at him. “Yes?”

Percy’s shoulder’s sagged. “Are you really gonna make me ask?”

She opened the door and walked inside, propping it open for him to follow her. “Do you really have no other friends?”

“Wow,” he said, throwing himself onto the end of her bed. “You wound me. Come on, just let me stay. Piper’s probably at Jason’s this weekend anyway, right?”

Annabeth looked over at him and his big green eyes, all wide and pleading. He was really putting it on thick and she had to hand it to him - it was working.

She sighed heavily, as if it caused her great pain. “Fine. I’ll sleep in Piper’s bed and you can take mine. But you’re buying me breakfast in the morning.”

Percy grinned widely. “It’s a deal.”


Your name: submit What is this?

The sound of the lighter being lit echoed throughout the empty park. Gilinsky took the lighter up towards the cigarette that was hanging between his lips. Jack was never one to smoke. However at times like this (high-stress), he cranked one out for a puff or two.

       Using the hand that didn’t hold the cigarette, he rubbed his shoulder trying to blow off some tension. He could feel the tension rising up giving him a headache. Gilinsky didn’t know why he was so worried. He was just gonna come out and say what he needed to. No beating around the bush.

       The sound of tires rolling on the stone pavement of the park dragged Gilinsky out of his thoughts. He put out the barely touched cigarette with the heel of his sneaker and shoved his large hands into the pouch of his hoodie.

       Out of the car came his best friend, Jack Johnson. Gilinsky and Johnson go way back to kindergarten days. However, lately there has been a strain on their friendship. It was like Gilinsky didn’t know the man standing in front of him anymore. He was a complete different person to his best friend of 20 plus years.

“I bet your wondering why I called you here.” Gilinsky called out as Johnson came closer.

“You know it’s like 2 AM and like 60 degrees right?” Johnson pulled his coat closer to him.

“(Y/N) wants to separate.” Gilinsky stated ignoring his best friends comment.

“I’m sorry man. That unfor-“

“She mentions you might have had something to do with it.”

Johnson’s breath got stuck in his throat. ‘Had (Y/N) told Gilinsky what we were up to? That was the only logical explanation as to why he called me here.’

“Listen man, I’m sorry.” Johnson started. However, he didn’t know how to finish that thought. What was Gilinsky gonna say when Johnson tells him that he’s been secretly fucking Gilinsky’s wife behind his back?

“Please. Keep your pathetic pity to yourself. I know what you guys did. You know, (Y/N) owned up to it. And I must admit. I was a terrible husband to her. Shit, I still am. I choose clubs instead of hanging out with her. I choose to leave her when I should be by her side. I do deserve to be cheated on because she deserves someone better.” Gilinsky looked at Johnson with a sour look on his face. “But my best friend… C’mon now. I expected more. You’re my family, my brother. How could you do something like this? You were the best man at my wedding. I could have tolerated anyone else but you.”

       Johnson sighed before running a hand through his hair.

“Listen you said it yourself. You choose to leave her when you should have been with her. I was there to fill the void she needed. It started off as just friends which turned into something more. It wasn’t intentional I swear.”

“I don’t care if it was intentional or not. Stop kissing my wife.”

“I will, when you start kissing her.” Johnson spat at Gilinsky.

       Gilinsky didn’t know what came over him. The next thing he knew his fist was colliding with Johnson’s jaw.

       The boys tussled around, each getting punches in. They didn’t stop until they heard a voice yell at them to stop.

“(Y/N)?” Gilinsky asked stunned. “What are you doing here?”

“I came here with Johnson. Jack, please don’t do this.”

Gilinsky chuckled at the neediness in (Y/N)’s voice.

“You’re such a hypocrite, it’s unbelievable.”

“Don’t talk to her like that.” Johnson stood in between Gilinsky and (Y/N).

“I can’t believe this. My wife and my best friend.” Gilinsky sighed rubbing his shoulder again.

“I’m sorry.” (Y/N) couldn’t say anything else. She didn’t know what else to say.

       Johnson reached behind him for (Y/N)’s hand. Gilinsky looked down at their connected hands, his heart clenched in his chest.

“So this is it, huh? This is actually happening. You’re leaving me for my best friend?”

(Y/N) let go of Johnson’s hand and moved towards Gilinsky.

“I’m not leaving you for him. But I can’t leave him either. I love both of you equally. I can’t just ditch either of you.”

       Gilinsky stood up taller. “Well (Y/N) decide. Is it me or him?”

A/N: Guess whose back, back again…Sam is back,back. Tell a friend. I’m back from my hiatus. I explain everything here. I’m slowly working my way back to tumblr and I’m excited. I hope you guys are too. I kinda want to a part of this. But in like 2 different ways. Like one ending for Johnson and one ending for Gilinsky. Or y’all could just vote for whichever one. Its up to y’all. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯


Masterlist | Ask

Sing For Me

**Another fic centered around black women, except this one isn’t sad, (haha). I know the struggle of trying to find fan fiction about BW, so I’ve decided to start writing my own.**

Warnings: Smut, Language

Originally posted by perfect-affection


Jonghyun sat with his elbows leaning on the soundboard, sneakers tapping against the hardwood floor as he bounced on the balls of his feet restlessly. He sat back in the plush, black chair, swiveling from side to side, biting into his thumb nail. He couldn’t focus. 

“……..oppa…” He blinked and glanced up at you through the glass that separated the two of you. He hadn’t even realized that he never started the music so that you could record again. He pressed a button on the soundboard, leaning forward slightly, “Uhh…let’s do another take.” He instructed, clearing his throat. You nodded and lifted the massive headphones back on to your head, giving him a thumbs up when you were ready. He started the music and sat back. He didn’t think that taking on the job as your writer and producer would be this hard. It wasn’t your singing that bothered him. It was you in general. It was always something with you. You were friendly with him, too friendly. Always touching his arm when you laughed, leaning in a little too close to him when he showed you something, wearing clothes that hugged your body in all the right ways. You smelled of coconut oil and vanilla. And your skin, God your skin, such a beautiful brown. You were glowing at all times. Positively stunning. A masterpiece that needed to be appreciated. He closed his eyes and listened to you sing. Your soulful voice slid over his words like honey. Was it wrong to want to hear that heavenly voice of yours moaning his name? Was it wrong that while sitting there, thinking about how it would be to reach out and touch the beautiful warmth between your legs, he subconsciously palmed himself through the now tight fabric of his black jeans? Everything about you seemed to have taken up every inch of space in his mind. He wanted to drown himself between the thickness of your thighs. It’d be a good way to die. Living out his last moments with your release on his tongue. If he were to go, that’s the only way he’d accept it. 

He dug the heels of  his sneakers into the floor, pulling himself forward so that his lower body was safely hidden from sight. “Shit.” He groaned, unzipping his jeans. He hadn’t even stopped to think about what he was about to do. How could he take the time to do something like thinking when he had thoughts of you filling up his mind? He shifted in the chair, getting comfortable. Just as he was getting ready to free himself from his boxers, you poked your head out of the recording booth, scaring him. “Jonghyun….” His eyes flew open and he scrambled to sit upright. “Yeah, __________?” You stepped out and sat down on the sound board near where he was sitting. He turned his body slightly away from you, propping an elbow up on the board to try and hide himself. “You know I’m on a deadline…what are you even doing out here?” Jonghyun shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat, “Thinking.” You crossed your arms, “Can you think during someone else’s studio time?” He hurriedly nodded, erection starting to become uncomfortable. Why were you being so inquisitive? Couldn’t you have just yelled at him from inside the recording booth? The longer you sat there the more he wanted to end the studio session. This was beginning to get awkward, and he was getting a cramp in his side from how he positioned himself. You moved closer and he pulled himself under the soundboard, making sure to keep you from seeing anything. “I need to finish this song today, Jonghyun.” He couldn’t help you. Not in this situation. “We’ll get it done. I just have to…handle some stuff.” You crossed your arms over your chest, the action pulling your shirt down a couple inches. His eyes flickered to your breasts for a moment before coming back up to your face. “What could you possibly need to handle?” You asked, irritated. 

To tell you, or not tell you? He voted for the former. Pushing the chair back, he stood up carefully. Your eyes drifted to where his erection strained against the front of his jeans, “Would you rather I be unable to focus then?” He asked you in a low voice. You blinked, standing up to leave the room. “Stay.” He said in the same low voice. Your chest felt heavy. Were things really about to go where you thought they were? He pushed himself to your back, erection pressing against your clothed backside. “Do you know why I’m like this?” He all but whispered into your ear. His lips were so close that whenever he spoke, they moved against your skin. A chill ran through your body, raising goosebumps on your arms. “Tell me.” You squeaked. Real smooth. He pulled your hands out in front of you, making you put them on the door. “It’s you.” His hands slid around to the front of your body, pulling you against him. He spread his fingers so that his palms rested flat against your stomach. “Everything about you.” Another chill. You inhaled a shaky breath, “J-Jong…” 
“You smell so good.” He nosed up and down your neck, one hand sliding down to the zipper of your jeans. “I bet you taste as good as you smell, _________.” Another chill. You closed your eyes, letting your head fall back to rest against his shoulder. 

The hand still on your stomach seemed to burn through the thin material of your shirt, branding itself on to your skin as he flipped open your button and unzipped your jeans. You exhaled, trying to ready yourself for what was about to come. His finger tip brushed lightly against your clit, his touch light enough to leave you wanting more than what he was giving you. “Shhhhhit.” You groaned, head falling forward. He pressed himself harder against you, grinding into your ass as he rubbed all-too-gentle circles into your core. The hand on your stomach knotted into your shirt as you listened to his breathing become labored. “Gahhh, you’re so wet.” He groaned, fingers finding your entrance. He used his middle finger first, testing you. You clenched around it, dragging your hips back and forth. Jonghyun cursed under his breath, attaching his lips to your neck. The air circulating in the room seemed to thicken, making it harder for you to breathe. “Sing for me..” He whispered into your ear. What?! Your eyes snapped open, “W-what….did you jus-..?” He kissed the side of your neck again before licking a stripe up to your earlobe. “Sing for me.” He was too close. Too close. His voice was deeper than usual and it was making you tingle all over. “I want to hear you sing a song for me…” Hadn’t that been what you’d been doing this whole time? Did he completely disregard the vocal slayage you’d just put down in the booth? “Jonghyun…” In an instant, his fingers were gone from you. You whimpered, pushing your hips back, but he was gone. You whirled around to give him a dirty look. What you found had you backing against the wall, short of breath. 

Jonghyun was standing with his fingers in his mouth, eyes on you. How was watching him suck your wetness from his fingers so gotdamn hot? “Sing for me…” He repeated, breathing heavy. The look in his eyes was enough to make you cum. It was beautiful. He looked like he wanted to break you in half and then some. You cleared your throat, looking away from him. “W-what should I sing?” You asked him in a small voice. “Whatever comes to mind, love.” He smiled, stepping back to you. “O-o-okay.” You blinked as he came closer, eyes shining with something mischievous. What could this look mean for you? “Turn around, love.” He demanded, voice low and oddly comforting. Feeling the need to please him, you turned back around, putting your hands flat against the cool, cement-block wall. Jonghyun’s hands slid against your hips, pulling you backward until you were bowed over in an almost ninety degree angle. “I don’t hear you singing.” He commented from behind you. He hooked his fingers into your pants and underwear, dragging them down your legs, pressing kisses to the backs of your thighs as he went. You’d never been exposed to him before, and being so now was high key embarrassing. He gripped your thighs, and you heard the soft thud of him dropping to his knees, spreading your legs open. No. No, no, no, no. “I still don’t hear you.” His breath fanned out over your core and your hands curled into fists. “M-my baby got a lot to learn…” Brandy’s ‘Slower’ automatically coming to mind. Jonghyun pressed a kiss to the back of your thigh, making you tighten your fists. 

Come h-h-here….let mmmmmm-…” You moaned as he flattened his tongue against your clit, dragging it back towards your entrance.  He repeated the action two more times, making it hard for you to get the words out. He stood up, leaning over you to speak into your ear as he rubbed his fingers in between your folds, “You really do taste as good as you smell.” He breathed. Your stomach muscles tightened and your hips twitched. “Finish the song, love.” You let out a shaky breath, inhaling again through your nose. “Let mama bring y-..” The blunt head of his hardened member prodded at your entrance, and he thrust into you with shallow movements, tipping in and out of you slowly. Without thinking, you pushed yourself backward. The sensation of him filling you with himself was one that you hadn’t been ready for. You bit into your bottom lip, pushing your hips back again, fucking yourself on to him like you hadn’t just been embarrassed only moments ago. His grip on you relaxed and he allowed you to do what you wanted for a bit. The slick sounds of you dragging back and forth over his length filled your eyes like a twisted song your bodies made together. You concentrated on the sound of him grunting, grip on your body becoming harsh again as you pulsed around him. “Shit..” He groaned, finally deciding to take control, guiding your hips. The fact that you were supposed to be singing was long forgotten.

Your body composed a song all on its own. From the way you moaned, to the way it sounded when your bodies came together in a cadence similar to that of an actual beat. But this was far from a solo show. Jonghyun joined in with the octave to your moans, your voices blending together as if you were singing a duet. He snapped his hips forward, pitching you into the wall. Reaching around you, he rubbed harsh circles into your clit, causing high-pitched whimpers to force their way out of your throat. You grabbed on to his wrist, body ready to shut down on you. “Jonghyun..” You whined, pushing your hips back harder. He matched you, thrust for thrust, the two of you working together towards the climax of your body song. Your legs began to shake as you struggled to keep yourself upright. This was harder than you’d thought it would be. Your thighs tensed and you squeezed your eyes shut, a stuttered whine yanking from your dry-as-cotton throat, feeling like sandpaper scraping against your vocal chords. Sensing that you were falling behind, Jonghyun pushed you up against the wall, and hooked your leg over his free arm, the angle of his thrusts pitching you further and higher than you’d thought you could go. A beat later, and Jonghyun was spilling into you. You panicked, afraid he’d leave you to finish yourself off. 

“C’mon, love.” He groaned into your ear, hips bucking frantically into yours. Your breath quickened you held on to his wrist harder, body shaking violently as your orgasm finally, finally, crashed down over you. You gasped loudly, nails digging into his skin. He rested his forehead on the middle of your back, rasping out a breathy laugh. Your legs had had it, you were falling. Jonghyun laughed as he slowed your fall down, causing him to slide from inside you. You laughed along with him, falling on to all fours. Your arms shook as you tried to keep yourself in that position. Giving up, you laid on your back, “I’ll have to reschedule finishing my album now. We lost a whole session.” You joked. Jonghyun chuckled, pulling your clothes back on. He hovered over you, “Fine by me. I like listening to you sing anyway.” 

Dick/Babs headcanon

Convergence style. Don’t worry, no spoilers - I haven’t read the issues yet.

After the marriage and the traditional photos are taken. Dick and Babs borrows Tim and his advanced photography equipment to take pictures of them ala the honeymoon travellers who takes pictures of themselves all across the globe. 

There’s leather jackets and jeans, there’s casual, stylish, outrageously funny and classic with a twist (because they would have taken traditional pictures in the wedding). There’s Nightwing in his full get-up and Dick’s gigantic Bat-bike (with blue stripes) and Babs just as a blur of white with no visible face sitting on the bike, supported against Dick whom is wearing a proud ear-splitting grin on his face. Then there’s flowers and champagne glasses and escrima sticks, laptops and batarangs. There’s one where Bruce’s cape-with-attached-cowl suddenly became a tent, cowl hanging down as an upside-down empty-eyed guardian and one where Tim’s wings became a blanket.

A carefully chosen assortment of those are for the superhero community and a few select media. There’s ridiculous poses and Dick throwing Babs in the air and she holding him tenderly. There’s tickle fights, thoughtful poses and battitude. There’s with wheelchair and without. Then there is serious, funny and loving faces.  

And one where Damian snuck in and you can see the heel of his sneaker in the corner as he hastily retreats. 

And it’s all taken in the Batcave in from of a gigantic green screen. Afterwards Tim just photoshops in whatever images they want as a background from the areas they are taking their honeymoon. And when they get back a few chosen ones are trickled to the media.

And then Tim adds a little watermark where it says Redbird photography. Because he’s that good and he’s really missed taking pictures and it’s a side-business he’d like to get into again that would suit both Tim and the family well. 

And when he’s gone through them all and decided which will be seen by others than the three of them, Dick thinks that the one he likes best is the one where he’s half in costume, half out, with a ratty old Gotham Knights long-sleeved tee underneath the uniform top which is pooling at his waist, one costume boot on and one bare foot, his hair a mess and a soft smile on his face. Babs is holding his mask and gloves out for him, looking at him all serious and intense, as if she’s about to send him out on a quest and worried he might not come back as whole and hale as he is standing before her now. Her veil is askew and she’s wearing his leather jacket with the blue-but-almost-black wide stripes on the sleeves that reminds him of his fingerstripes. And he realises that he has never loved her more than in this very moment. 

fic written by @pineapple-fanfics

length: 1162 words

summary: Tony and Steve get ready to go out, but they keep getting distracted by each other.

a/n: HI GUYS, I’M BACK FROM THE DEAD!! :) I hope this fanfic will make the stony hurt easier to deal with. Enjoy. :) - @pineapple-fanfics


Tony looked at himself in the bathroom mirror, leaned over the sink to apply styling gel to his brown hair. He was wearing a pair of dark trousers and a white shirt that was unbuttoned down to his belly button, revealing his chest and the arc reactor. 

Getting ready to go out on a date with his lover was one of his favorite activities. It was so relaxing and reassuring. Especially when Steve did stuff like he did in that moment, humming along to the music that was playing on their floor in the Tower, and moving his attractive shoulders around along the rhythm. 

He was pulling at the collar of his leather jacket, checking his looks in the mirror in their bedroom, before turning around on the heels of his white sneakers to dance towards Tony. His blue eyes gave Tony the bedroom look. 

Keep reading

I’m Here Now [M.C]

This was requested by Anon. Hope you like it!💛 

“Wait, wait start again!”

“Michael, do you seriously not remember the handshake we’ve been doing all tour?”

“I promise Y/N. I’ve got it this time.”

Michael held out his fist to initiate the little routine you two did just before he went on stage every night.

“Just don’t mess up the set okay?” you teased after the final high five.

“Don’t worry,” Calum scoffed, “he will.”

After a brief, playful scuffle Michael returned his attention to you.

“I’ll see you out there?” He asked under his breath

You gently stroked your fingertips through his whispy locks and nodded.  

A crew member poked his head into the dressing room, “Alright boys, time to go!”

Michael turned to leave but back peddled when he felt your hand pulling at his.

His quizzical eyes met yours, “Are you okay?” He asked with a concerned tone in his voice

“Um…Yeah…I just wanted a second alone with you.”

A grin lit up Michael’s face as he leaned into you, his lips relentlessly layering into yours.

The same roadie came jogging down the hall, “Mike c'mon! She’ll be here when you get back!”

Michael cupped his hand around the nape of your neck, softly twisting his fingers into your hair, “You sure you’re alright?”

“Even if I wasn’t, you have a show to play,” you reply, “Don’t worry about me.”

Just then, the band’s tour manager, Don, stalked into the room, “Michael you have to go to stage,” he said sternly.

“I know, I know.”

He shrugged on his guitar and pecked one last kiss against your forehead. As he passed through the door Michael whispered at a level he thought you couldn’t hear, “Can you just do me a favor and watch over Y/N while I’m gone?”


“Don, you really don’t have to stay with me.”

He had led you out to your seat on the lower floor with one of the band’s bodyguards. Don ignored your words so you tried once more, “I don’t need a babysitter. I’m just standing here, watching the show, nothing’s going to happen. Don’t you have work you should be doing?”

He looked over at you, then to his phone, which was riddled with text messages.

“Go!” You urged

Don nodded and disappeared under the stage just as the house lights fell.


Typically, you took one of the unoccupied seats near the end of a row but this show was near capacity; almost no empty seats to be found. Tonight you were seated alone in the middle of a particularly raucous group. You were able to tolerate their pushing and shoving through the first few songs; they were excited and you completely understood. But around the middle of the set, the alcohol started flowing. One of the women routinely vanished every few minutes and reemerged with paper trays full of frothy beers.

 Their cheers got louder and longer, their dance moves progressively got sloppier, and soon you felt like the arena walls were falling in on you. The breath caught in your throat and didn’t release. The vice-like feeling around your windpipe began the blur your vision. Your knees buckled from underneath you, the tattered vinyl folding chair behind you broke your fall. You tried to calm yourself by pulling in a few long drags of smoky air through your nose but it only made your head fuzzier. Despite the pins and needles pinching in your extremities, you fought your way into the arms of the bodyguard who was assigned to your row.

“I Ju…st need to g…g…et bac..sta…ge,” you gasp.

The man’s strong arm kept you upright and led you all the way to the couch in the band’s dressing room.

Curled up against the cushions, struggling to level your breathing, you heard a few roadies informing Don of what happened.

“Has this ever happened before?” One of the younger women asked.

“Yeah,” Don answered, “a couple times.”

“Well, what do we do?”

“Michael’s the only one that can ever calm her down.”

“We should tell…”

Don cut her off, “No. He needs to focus on the show right now.”


Your eyes fluttered open at the faint sound of someone yelling. As the voice grew closer you were able to identify it as Michael.

“Where’s Don?” He demanded angrily

“Mikey, just calm down for a second.”

“Don’t ‘Mickey’ me! I told you to look after her! You could’ve at least told me in my ear that something was wrong!”

Don’s voice remained steady, “Tell me that you wouldn’t have dropped your guitar and rushed back here.”

“That’s beside the point Don,” Michael continued the shout, “You know how she is when this happens! You know she’s scared and you know that she needs me!”

You rolled over to see him fuming through the doorway.

“Michael, stop” you utter.

He turned on the heel of his sneaker and the second your eyes locked, his entire demeanor softened. In three strides he closed the distance between the two of you. He dropped to his knees next to the sofa, stroking his calloused fingertips over your temple, “Shhh I’m here now Y/N”

You scooted yourself back and Michael filled the empty space. His gentle embrace cradling you against his torso. One of his thumbs slipped under your shirt and ever so slightly traced your spine, his gaze never leaving your face. You rested both of your hands against his chest as a few stray tears fell from your eyes. He pursed his lips as if here were coming in for a kiss. At the last minute, he poked his tongue against the tip of your nose. A small giggle flitted from the back of your throat and an inevitable smile parted your lips.

“There she is,” Michael cooed, “my beautiful girl.”