toes on tile

Imagine coming home after a long day to find John reading in bed.

Warnings: None.

A/N: This was @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash‘s idea XD

“John?” you called into the quiet house as you threw your bag onto the floor and kicked your shoes off, curling your toes against the tiled floor and dreaming of the moment when you’re finally able to get off your feet.

“In here, baby” John’s voice called from the bedroom.

It was typical of John to be awake at ungodly hours, but even you were a little surprised at his alert tone, given that it was nearly 3am.

You padded silently across the floor and peaked into the room, your breath coming out in a long, winded sigh as you lay eyes on him. He was propped up in bed, black rimmed glasses on his face and a thick novel in his lap. The smile that spread across his lips when he saw you warmed you down to your very soul and you were quick to close the distance between you and the bed, jumping in beside him.

“What are you reading, old man?” you teased him, much as you always did.

You pawed at the book he was holding, careful not to lose his place as you flipped it close to look at the cover.

“IT? Really? I never had you pegged for a Stephen King fan” you mused, cuddling up against his side to lay your head on his chest and drape your arm over his stomach.

The warmth of his body radiated against your chilled skin and you soaked it up happily, rubbing your face against him and deeply inhaling his intoxicating musk. The soft bedding seemed to form perfectly around you and hug your tired frame as it lay cradled next to John.

“It’s nice to read about fictional monsters for once” John replied in a short, huffed laughed as he set the book on the nightstand.

His strong arms wrapped around you and he kissed the top of your head with a long, slow kiss, followed by several short ones as he gently cupped your chin and turned your face up to meet his. When his lips met yours, you smiled against them.

“I need to shower, I smell terrible” you stated, laying a hand on his chest and leaning back to look him in the eye.

“I think you smell delicious” John pressed, burying his face into the side of your neck as he nibbled playfully.

You gave a squeal of delight but slipped out of his grasp and rolled off of the bed.

“Seriously, I’m disgusting” you repeated in a sad tone, wanting nothing more than to stay in bed with him.

“In that case, I should probably join you. Safety in numbers and all that” John suggested with a wolfish grin.

And you couldn’t argue with that.

Tags below cut.

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Stern Reminder

SUMMARY: Knowing Bruce Wayne as Batman is hard enough, but loving him is a task on its own. With his life on the line at every mission, you tend to forget yours is too. That is, until a sore reminder is spoken and Bruce slips up.

WORD COUNT: 1,815 words


NOTES: (y/nn) = your nickname. Enjoy!

(Y/n) doesn’t know what woke her. Maybe it was something deep inside screaming at her to get up, or a soft whisper from her mind telling her to rise. But she does as the unknown says, and blinks her eyes open as she takes the day’s first real breath.

She looks to her left and sees an empty spot next to her, making her sigh as she looks at the ceiling. Slowly, she sits up and stretches, looking at the clock that reads four am.

(Y/n) swings her feet over the side of the bed, letting her toes touch the cold tiles. She flinches a little but stands as her toes become used to the feeling of icy stone. She walks to the closet, not bothered by walking her own room in just underwear, and sifts through Bruce’s shirts. Her hand lands on a long black shirt and she pulls it off the hanger and slides it onto her body. It’s long, going just past her butt and the body of it wide.

She yawns as she walks into the hall. She knows where Bruce is, down in the lab where he always resorts to at these ungodly hours. She shuffles down the hall and carefully walks down a flight of stairs, holding the rail as she tries to shake off the sleep. As she enters the lab, she can see Bruce standing near his desk. She smiles to herself and walks with quiet steps to him.

When she reaches him, she wraps her arms around his torso and rests her head on his shoulder blade. He chuckles and turns around, wrapping his arms around her and kissing the top of her head.

“Why are you up, (y/n)?” he asks quietly, his voice deep in her ear.

“I came to ask you the same,” she tells him, looking up at him with a small smile. His eyes trace her as he recognizes the shirt.

“Isn’t that mine?” he asks and she nods. “Looks nice.” He smiles down at her and gives her a quick kiss before she steps back.

“What are you working on?” she asks as she sits in the chair. She watches as he works on small electronic pieces, Bruce looking under a magnifying glass to see better at his work.

“Just improving the mic on the suit,” he tells her and she nods, yawning. He sees this and looks over, watching her as she tries to rub the sleep out of her eyes. He walks to her and surprises her by picking her up bridal style, lifting her up and setting her on his lap as he sits. She laughs slightly, making his heart jump, and he pulls her close.

He turns the chair to the screens and leans forward, (y/n) with her face buried in his chest as he keeps her close, and turns on the news. He relaxes as he leans back and (y/n) curls up into a ball so she can fit. He puts his arms around her tight and watches the news flicker across the screens. Robberies, weather, traffic, repeat.

“Anything interesting?” (y/n) whispers into his shirt, and he runs a hand up and down her back as he sighs.

“Nope,” he answers, and she hums a response. “You should go back to bed, get some more sleep.”

“Not unless Batman comes to bed with me,” she says in a sing song voice. He laughs a little, kissing her hair.

“I have work to do, (y/nn),” he tells her and she sighs defeatedly, nodding.

“Okay,” she whispers sadly, making Bruce frown as he looks down at her.

“But I’m sure lying down for a bit won’t hurt,” he adds, and he can feel her smile. He chuckles as he turns the screens off. He picks her back up, letting her wrap her arms around his neck as he walks upstairs.

He has to kick the bedroom door open slightly, shutting it back the same way. He sets her down on the bed and kicks his shoes off, climbing under the covers next to (y/n). She scoots to him and he pulls her as close as possible. She lies an arm over him and rests her head on his chest, taking slow breaths as sleep begins to take over. Bruce watches her as he begins to feel the same effects of drowsiness, and soon he falls asleep with the image of (y/n) on his mind.


The phone rings, making (y/n)’s eyes blink open quickly. She sits up, Bruce’s arms still over her, and reaches for the phone. She has trouble reaching, Bruce groaning as he wakes. She grunts and gives up, climbing onto him and straddling his waist as she finally reaches the phone. He just laughs, his hands resting on her hips as she answers.

“Hello?” she answers, clearing her throat. Bruce watches her as one hands plays with the fabric of his shirt, the other holding the phone to her ear. She nods as someone says something and his fingers slide under her shirt, his skin warm on hers, watching her green eyes blink.

“I’ll have him check the report downstairs,” she tells the person in a defeated tone, looking down at Bruce. She sighs and hangs up, setting the phone on the night stand.

“Who was it?” he asks, his fingers tracing small circles on her hips.

“Allie XZ,” she answers, her eyes meeting his. “Said they sent a mission request to your inbox for immediate recovery of arms.” Bruce sighs, looking at her with tired eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he says and she smiles weakly, leaning down and laying her head on his shoulder, kissing his jaw.

“Don’t be,” she reassures him. “The world needs Batman, and that means I have to go without Bruce Wayne for a bit.” He sighs and kisses her forehead, making her smile.

“I’ll be back sooner than you know it,” he tells her. “You won’t even know I was gone.”

“I always know,” she whispers. “Come back in one piece, you hear me?”

“Yes, ma'am,” he answers, “loud and clear.”


(Y/n) walks through the kitchen, a piece of celery coated on top with peanut butter in her fingers. She takes a bite, the crunching sound filling the kitchen, and takes another so that the snack is gone. She hops on the counter and pulls out her phone as an alarm goes off. She looks around, the blue light over the door making her run to the lab.

“Bruce,” she calls out, sprinting down the stairs as he falls out of the car. There’s a large gash in his suit, blood leaking from between his fingers. “Oh my god!” she cries, dropping to her knees in front of him.

“What is it?” Alfred asks as he walks into the lab. He sees an injured Bruce, who grits his teeth in pain, and runs back upstairs for the first aid supplies.

“Come on, over here,” (y/n) says lowly, grunting as she helps him stand. He growls from pain as he shuffles to the chair, dropping into it with a sigh. (Y/n) reaches up and carefully takes his mask off, setting it on the desk and working to unclip his armour. She drops everything to the floor until he’s left in just his pants and a bloodied shirt.

“How did this happen?” she asks him as Alfred runs to her with the supplies.

“Caught off guard,” he groans, and she cuts his shirt away.

“Get towels,” she says softly to Alfred, who nods as he runs upstairs again. She stays silent as she drops his short to the floor, grabbing a needle and thread to stitch up the seven inch long gash. Bruce watches as she threads the needle, and goes to say something, but Alfred walks in.

“Here,” he says setting the towels next to her as she kneels next to Bruce. She nods and picks one up as Alfred takes a couple steps back, sensing her anger as he decides to head back upstairs.

(Y/n) takes a damp towel and presses it slightly to the wound as she sets the needle down. Bruce gasps from the pain, flinching back, and (y/n) puts a strong hand on his chest to keep him still. He takes a shaky breath and leans back as she cleans up the blood, her eyes finally meeting his.

“One piece,” she whispers. “I said one piece.”

“And here I am,” he answers.

“And if you weren’t here within the next hour, you would’ve bled to death, Bruce,” she argues, her voice cracking. Bruce just remains silent as she grabs the needle, pinching his skin and stitching the wound. He gasps and she keeps her eyes on the needle between her finger and the bleeding wound on the man she loves.

“I’m sorry,” he says as she reaches the halfway mark. She bites her bottom lip and nods once, stitching still.

Within the next ten minutes he’s stitched up. Twenty three stitches total, twenty three reasons for (y/n) to worry. She cleans the blood up with a towel and sets everything on the floor, looking up at Bruce.

“You never get caught off guard,” she says after a second, watching him as he finally takes steady breaths. “How?”

He pauses, his eyes trained on hers. “One mentioned you,” he says lowly, and she furrows her eyebrows as she shifts. She stills stays kneeling on the floor, one hand on his leg for balance.

“What?” she whispers.

“They said your name,” he explains. “(Y/n) (y/m/n) (y/l/n), one said it loud and clear.” He takes a shaky breath, dragging a hand down his face. “They said they we’re going to come for you next.”

(Y/n) blinks, an ounce of fear in her heart as she leans back a bit. “You killed them, right?” she whispers, her voice weak. “They can’t get me if they’re dead.”

“I got them,” he tells her. He leans forward, placing a hand on her cheek and brushing her skin with his thumb. “No one will ever get you, not under my watch.” She bites her lip to keep fearful tears from rising and he takes her hand, slowly standing with pain radiating throughout his body.

“No one,” he repeats, “will ever harm you as long as I’m around, (y/n).” He kisses her temple as they walk up the stairs slowly and she puts on a weak smile, nodding.

T E E N A G E  G I R L S  +  M Y T H O L O G Y: Rán

Her feet dangle over the edge, soft skin upon smooth tile, toes dipping into the cool water. The chlorine has filled her nostrils and is near intoxicating, a thick heady smell that tastes of victory and death. Her piercing gaze catches the other swimmers’ through wet lashes, gracing over their lithe, streamlined bodies. She is their captain, head of the swim team, and will show off her gala medals like war trophies for all to see.

meteor showers: mission impossible

first attempt

Sarada bides her time for three whole months, lulling her target into complacency. She studies his behavior patterns, memorizes his schedule, and employs gathered data to calculate the chance of success.

And when she’s finally got him isolated, she strikes.

“When did you fall in love with Mom?”

Sasuke fumbles his chopsticks, which is how she knows she’s startled him. His face—by all accounts, hewn from granite and sealed in marble—doesn’t so much as twitch.

“Well?” Sarada pushes, toes skimming the waxy kitchen tile. She’s no longer short enough to swing her legs through the void between her chair and the floor.

Sasuke stacks his picked-clean dishes, scrapes back his chair, and thumps over to the sink.


“Your mother won’t be happy if you don’t eat your lunch.”

Sarada’s chopsticks snap.

“She won’t be happy about that, either.”

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It was a Monster Mash(closed rp)

Cynthia crawled through the butcher shoppee, taking in the scents of the fearful humans. “You cant hide from my nosssee!” She purred teasingly, slowly standing on her hindlegs,” I will smell you out…”. She ran her tongue along her teeth her clawed toes tapping on the cold tile.

But then she smelt something else amoung the dead pigs and the sweating humans. A canine. But not just any canine.

“Who dares come into my territory…”