No Thoughts, Head Empty Just Thinking About John Falling Asleep On Like A Lazy Boy Recliner, Having Come

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SPN MOODBOARDS

just a fever ── simon 'ghost' riley

summary; he's not scared of a lot of things. except the first fever of his daughter.

wc; 0.4k

he has faced down barrels of guns with steely calm, walked through burning houses with his mask soaked in soot and blood. fear doesn't live in his bones anymore—at least, not the kind that comes from battlefields or the breath before a bullet flies.

but this... is new.

grace is burning up in his arms, small limbs restless and face flushed red with fever, and simon's chest feels like it's caving in. her breaths come fast and uneven, and her fingers, always clinging to his dog tags when she's sleepy, twitch like she’s too hot to hold onto anything.

she's just a baby. not even two.

he paces the living room barefoot, her little form tucked tight against his chest, his shirt damp where her forehead rests. you're on the phone with the pediatrician, voice calm but tight—trying not to let him hear the edge in it.

but he does. he hears everything at this point, every beat and every breath.

his hands are too rough for this. trained for holding guns, not tiny bodies burning with sickness. he keeps checking her temperature with a trembling hand against her neck, like it'll tell him something new. like anything will change.

watching grace whimper weakly in his arms, no strength to cry—he can’t protect her from this. and it unravels him.

you turn to him, finally off the call.

"they said it's common. her body's just learning how to fight things off. fever's a sign her immune system's working."

he nods slowly, but his eyes—those same eyes that have stared down warlords and monsters in masks— look hollow now.

"grace is strong," you add, gentler, placing a hand on his arm. "just like you".

but simon doesn’t feel strong. he feels helpless.

"she's never been this hot," he mutters, voice low, rough like gravel. "she looked at me like she didn't know who I was."

"she's tired, love. she knows who you are" you say softly, caressing his shoulder "you're her dad. of course she knows."

she stirs then, tiny fingers curling into his shirt again. her lips part and he hears the quietest murmur—“mgh…”

he exhales like he’s been holding his breath for an hour. cradles her closer. he doesn't even notice the wetness in his eyes until your hand brushes it away.

later, when grace is finally resting, fever breaking with a cool damp cloth and a lullaby that only you know how to hum right, simon stays by her crib. mask off. eyes open.

no guns. no enemies. just a man watching the smallest person he’s ever loved fight the first of life’s many battles.

he doesn’t flinch at gunfire.

but he’d rather take a bullet to the chest than watch his little girl suffer again.

a/n: making a series about simon being a dad !!! (probably a series of u meeting him too........ im down for it) (soon the masterlist)

Jason should kill the Joker and just not tell anyone. like, lets be real here, if he were to silently slip in and kill the Joker in his sleep, are any of the workers at Arkham really going to give enough of a shit to say anything??? with the paperwork they’d have to do, and the attention they’d get once the media caught wind of the break in/murder, i bet all Jason would have to do is leave like, a basket of muffins next to the dead body as a thank you and the staff would just dispose of the body and shut the fuck up about it.

i bet you he could get through a solid six to eight month period of being weirdly happy and interactive with the rest of the family before Dick finally asks why he’s been in such a good mood lately over family dinner

Jason, casually: i dunno, i guess i’ve just had a weight lifted from my shoulders; there’s less to drive me away now.

Bruce, thinking he’s finally done something right: aw Jaylad, i’m so happy you’re feeling more comfortable!

Dick, the only batkid around when Jason was Robin, remembering all the times Jason would transform into the happiest kid on the planet only for them to find out a week later it was because he’d pushed a bully down the stairs at school and fractured his wrist: hold on B.

Dick: Jay, what weight has been lifted?

Jason, still nonplussed: well i finally got my GED, and the Joker thing really calmed the lazarus rage. also Steph got me into puppy yoga, we go once a week.

Bruce:

Bruce: what Joker thing.

Jason, glancing up from his food: ? d’i not mention that? he’s dead, man.

Bruce:

Dick:

Dick: sorry, what?

Tim: why the fuck am i never invited to puppy yoga?

Bruce, having a panic attack: y- what are you talking about Jay-

Tim: i would LOVE to go to puppy yoga. what the FUCK?

Jason, shrugging: you can come to puppy yoga, replacement, it’s all good

Bruce: the Joker’s dead?

Tim: FUCK YEAH, PUPPY YOGA

Jason: i think they do it with goats too.

Damian: i would be interested in this activity.

Jason: hell yeah family yoga session

Bruce: JASON PLEASE EXPAND ON THE JOKER THING

Jason: no i don’t like your tone. anyway, dick, puppy yoga?

Dick:

Dick, glancing at Bruce’s glare nervously: …i would be down for puppy yoga

You know those posts about one of Bruce’s kids getting kidnapped and him having no idea which kid they have based on the vague descriptions he’s given? Well now I can’t only imagine Bruce getting the dreaded call and immediately pulling out a guess who board filled entirely with his kids. Like

kidnapper: we have one of your children

Bruce: I have so many of those you need to be more specific

kidnapper: the loud and annoying one

Bruce, flipping down Cass and Duke: that does not help as much as you think it does

kidnapper: well he has black hair?

Bruce, flips down Steph: keep going

kidnapper: uhhhh? He’s short?

Bruce, flips down Dick and Jason leaving Tim and Damian: more specific

kidnapper: he’s been condescending and judgmental since we got him

Bruce: yeah they both tend to do that

kidnapper: he keeps throwing around words I don’t understand

Bruce, realizing that Damian and Tim are significantly more similar than he thought: uhh more specific?

kidnapper: more?? look just wore us the mon— WHERE’D HE HIDE A KATANA???

Bruce: ah you have Damian

top 3 places to bleed out:

1. the snow

2. your lover/best friend/homoerotic comrade’s arms

3. bathroom floor

price with reader who never got much attention as a kid/growing up??

very self indulgent but hear me out. price is a lover man. he takes his time for his partners, gives them what they need, even if he's busy. you on the other hand are simply used to being put aside, people only listening to you half heartedly, not looking at you and getting distracted when you talk, other things were always more important than you and you felt that. you got used to it, it's normal to you.

but when you're with price he's the total opposite. he looks at you intently when you talk (if not hes leaning his head towards you so he hears you better), putting things down when you ask him something - hes attentive. he listens. and its absolutely strange to you, it makes you feel flustered, kinda watched. at some point you ask him why hes looking at you like that, the tv running in the backround. he furrows his eyebrows at you, with a confused chuckle. "what do you mean, love?"

"you're starin' at me." you accuse him, your cheeks getting hot.

"you're talkin' to me. where else would I be looking?" he jokes with a soft chuckle, wondering what the hell you're on about.

"your show's on." you say, gesturing to the tv. he looks at you like youve got three heads.

"I'm listening to you, love."

He's about to rain down a million smooches

Thank you so much to @tacticallyunsoundjohnnyboy for commissioning me to draw my favourite husbands 🫶

Honey, We talked about this.

MDNI 18+

mind is currently fuzzy and thinking about how god damn big simon is, and the struggles he would experience trying to fit his fat cock in your small cunt. “fuck luvie, need you stretched out just for me yeah?” his voice thick with arousal as his long fingers abused your cunt, completely slick and glistening as your cunt made the most lewd sounds from your soppy hole. “need my sweet girl all prepped for daddy yeah?” his gaze never leaving yours as you hiccuped, cheeks flushed with your hair stuck to your forehead, your legs bouncing as his fingers abused your cunt. it was adorable how you were making such a god damn mess and he hasn’t even fucked your cunt with his cock yet. god, he was going to ruin you.

once you were finally stretched out enough for simon’s liking, he gently rubbed his cock along your cunt, lubricating it with your arousal. “see this sweetheart? it’s gonna be deep inside you,” his cock messily rubbing around your cunt, his fat tip gently nudging inside you. “too big,” you whined as your face scrunched up from a slight burn from the stretch. simon let out a low tut, shaking his head as he watched a small bulge appear in your stomach, your cunt stretched out to accomodate to his size. “you can take it baby, but stretch,” he cooed as he slowly adjusted, “just a little bit more yeah?” his large calloused hands gently rubbing the sides of your body. a low hiss escaped his lips as you clenched around him, despite how you soaked his cock, your inner thighs glistening from your arousal alone, you gripped around him desperately, his cock barely fitting in. fully inside you as his fat tip nudged against your sweet spot.

simon’s ego swelled watching your small cunt squeeze him in, “you feel that baby?” his tone soft as he gently squeezed around the small bulge, “all for you.”