I Know It's Been Done Many Times Before, But I Just Love Gross Weird Creepy Awkward Simon And His Cute

Some Price requests for Night Fairy & Bayeis 🤍🫡

Dick waking up at 3 a.m. to a phone ringing loudly. The only night off he takes from Nightwing. He couldn't be grumpier.

Dick: What do you want? Money? A check? My soul?

The other end of the line was silent for a few seconds.

Tim: Hiiii to my favorite older brother

Dick: Dfq did you do?

Tim: Ey it's not only me!

Jason: Hi dickie!

Dick remained silent, as he assimilated everything and fought against sleep.

Dick: where do I have to go to look for you?

1 hour later Dick is at the Gotham police station, taking his brothers out while scolding them like never before (mostly for wake him up).

*Dick crashes out while on patrol and beats someone within an inch of their life*

Bruce: Dick might be a little bit fragile after last night, so let’s try to be sensitive.

Jason: Oh, believe me- I am going to be nothing but nice to Dick from now on. If he snaps and goes on a rampage, who do you think he’s coming for first?

Bruce: He’s not going on a rampage.

Tim: I bet he’d let me live. He likes me.

Damian: I’m just gonna say it. I never trusted him.

I love them your honor

ghoap au where soulmates share pain. ghost with chronic pain who takes care of himself enough to stay alive vs soap who’s got spread sheets and slide shows on pain management and pacing for the day he finds his soulmate.

simon knew it was over the moment he realized just how freaky you are.

simon knew he was massive—he always had.

it was a quiet fear that followed him, the thought that if he lost control for even a moment, he might hurt you. his touch was always careful, deliberate.

his hands were wrapped around your neck, not tight, but gentle—just enough to feel the pulse beneath your skin. his thumbs rested softly against your throat, his grip light, careful not to leave a mark. but when you started frantically grinding your hips against his, rolling your body in desperate need, everything shifted.

a low, guttural noise rumbled from his throat as his body responded on instinct. without meaning to, his hands tightened, gripping your neck for leverage as you moved against him. he froze for a second, startled by his own strength. but then—

it happened.

you clenched tighter around him, your head falling back as a broken moan escaped your lips. you were crying out, completely undone, lost in the moment. your hips bucked harder, desperate for more, and it hit him like a bolt of lightning:

you liked it rough.

you, his innocent, angelic girl — the one with soft smiles and bright eyes, the one who blushed at the smallest touch — had been hiding it all along.

he stared at you, stunned, as you begged with your body, your innocent exterior cracking to reveal the wicked, burning desire beneath. his angel wasn't just soft and sweet

—you were freaky.

a low growl rumbled in his chest as he leaned in, the ghost of a grin tugging at his lips. “you've been holding out on me, haven't you, lovie?” he murmured, his voice dark with amusement and something far more dangerous.

Alejandro has a single polaroid in his wallet.

It's a bike, shining a beautiful cherry red under the sun. Clearly freshly washed, not a speck of dirt on it. Behind it stands Rudy, his jeans slung low on his hips with the waistband of his boxers peeking out. He's shirtless, chest damp with sweat under the sun's rays and across his chest are bite marks of various depths, red and raw. Little cherries bracket his dusky nipples, piercing jewellery as red as the bike before him.

Alejandro considers it the greatest photo he's ever taken.

dead man walking

—

or, cyberpunk 2077 tarot (the magician) but it’s ghost

John reminds Nikolai of an ocean.

He'll make the comparison to dazzingly blue eyes but he keeps the truth tucked between two ribs, away from sight.

There are corpses in the midst, bloated and forgotten along the ocean floor. Occasionally, someone will toss a body over the side of the boat, and they'll join the cemetery of the nameless below.

Despite the calm of the water, something darker always lurks underneath, ready to drag an unsuspecting under it's depths. People see it's surface and make the assumption that safety is a given, approaching the tides with confidence. They're drowning is slow. Throat raw as they choke around the water that seems intent on finding a home in their lungs, eyes stinging as they thrash and fight a force that's godly in it's vigour.

He flows through life with a fluidity that is beyond practice. Places himself in front of a gun with smooth precision, the calm before the storm.

And at the echoing thunder of those he leads, he drags them off a cliff onto the rocks below. Backs broken, blood spilt and yet the water stays blue.

Above all, Nikolai opens his arms, and John floods his every sense.

Patience 💤