#in secret tattoo

[floccinaucinihilipilificationa]

[superbat-love]

"Hi, I'd like a tattoo, please."

Bruce glanced up from the design he’d been doodling to see a man in a cowboy hat, sunglasses, and a thick mustache. He nodded in acknowledgment, hiding a smirk.

This man had been visiting Bruce’s tattoo parlor for months, each time in a different disguise, always requesting a new tattoo. The first time Bruce tried, every tool broke against his skin. Plus, the man always returned with skin as smooth and unmarked as a newborn’s.

Metahuman clients weren’t unusual for him, but Bruce sensed this one preferred to keep his identity a secret, so he played along.

"And what kind of tattoo would you like, Mr...?"

"Colby," the man replied. "I’m a cowboy. From Texas," he added needlessly.

Bruce pushed his catalog toward him, but the man shook his head, likely having memorized it by now.

"Can I request a custom design?" he asked, pointing at the paper on Bruce’s desk.

"You want... a smiley face?" Bruce asked, glancing at the childish doodle Dick had left that morning.

"No!" The man looked flustered. "I meant the design you were working on before I interrupted you. I really like it."

"Ah." Bruce glanced at the sketch he’d drawn absentmindedly—a bat intertwined with the Kryptonian symbol of hope.

"Very well. Have a seat, Clark," Bruce said, nodding toward the tattoo chair.

"Umm, my name is Col—"

"Colby," Bruce interrupted smoothly. "Sorry, slip of the tongue." He continued setting out his kryptonite tools, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

[scorpioracers]

Steve mentioning in passing that he has a tattoo. And before Eddie can ask the important questions (where, when, why, what, can i see it??) the moment is gone. his brain was offline for too long at the thought of an inked up Steve Harrington he missed his chance.

But he can’t stop thinking about it. He’s always looking at Steve anyway (because how could he not) but now it’s ramped up 1000%. Any inch of skin on display and Eddie is zeroed in, looking for what he doesn’t know, but he needs to see it.

He’s being soooo obvious but he can’t help it.

He offers Erica ten bucks to push Steve in his pool to try and get Steve’s shirt off. “What am I eight? No. It will cost ten bucks for me to not tell him though..” She takes the money with a look he’s seen many times during DND night. Like she understands why he ended up a super-senior. She tells him she should have asked Mike.

Mike does it for free. But all that leads to is Robin hip-checking Mike in to the water, then Dustin and Lucas push Robin in and go in after her, and for some reason Argylle picks Eddie up and they end up in the pool too. He doesn’t get to see the tattoo and he reeks of chlorine for days.

-

Anyway in the ends Steve gets tired of waiting and one night when they’re both halfway to high he swings his legs over Eddie’s and takes his shirt off, grabs Eddie’s hand and places it on the little tattoo placed under his pec on his rib cage.

[perilusjax]

Prompt Title: Scary accidental Harem

Ghost Prince Danny

Danny was adopted by Pariah Dark after some... convincing (Clockwork, blackmailed his former lover >:3) Unfortunately, for Danny, the ghost becomes eligible for summoning.

At first, it was just some random shenanigans, like drunk teens, sleepover rituals, the usual. Until Fenton luck strikes, and he accepts his first sacrificial summoning.

Now Danny has a harem of both scary and hot men and women. Who can now visit his personal haunt/home anytime.

Also, Danny is like over a hundred years old now.

[lostlavenderer]

Me when I only put lotion on my tattoos and not the rest of my skin

[arty-e]

More traffic Danganronpa au designs

[morganski-19]

The One with the Gossip

The group is hanging out at the café, all in different conversations when Jonathan comes into the bar and flops down on the couch. Camera bag sliding off his shoulders.

“When does this place start serving alcohol?” he groans.

“In about thirty minutes,” Nancy starts, “are you ok?”

Argyle trades places with Robin, sitting next Jonathan. “That bad?”

Jonathan nods, widening his eyes. “Messiest wedding I have worked months. There were so many things and they just piled on top of each other. The amount of bridesmaids and groomsmen that had previously slept together and didn’t know about it was insane.”

Steve and Eddie turn their heads at the same time. “What now,” Eddie says intrigued.

“I love messy shit I’m not apart of,” Steve mutters under his breath.

“It was crazy,” Jonathan sits up, turning toward Steve and Eddie at the side table. “And it all started for the most stupid reason. The guys apparently had a bet when to see how many of the bridesmaids they could sleep with. And the girls didn’t know about it, and a few of them fell with their ‘charms’ and were none the wiser. Until, one of the groomsmen said who won in their speech.”

“Holy shit,” Robin says with a sip of her tea.

Eddie winces. “That is such a dick move.”

“How likely was it that they were part of those fraternities that just liked to terrorize people,” Steve asks. Having almost accidently joined one of these fraternities when he was in college.

Jonathan nods with disgust. “That only scratches the surface. The best man had won, having slept with six out of the seven bridesmaids, and he was engaged to the maid of honor.”

Everyone winces with disgust.

“Not cool, dude,” Argyle says with disappointment. “So not cool. How can people do this to other people. And think that they can get away with it.”

“Because they’re inconsiderate assholes,” Steve says at the same the same time Eddie says “They’re disgusting bags of shit.” They high five each other.

Jonathan lets out a long breath. “And I’m not done yet. It gets worse.”

“Oh my god, how,” Nancy questions.

Argyle stands. “I’ll be right back, continue without me.” He walks over to the bar and starts to talk to the barista.

“He got bonus points for sleeping with the bride. And the second-place winner, was the groom.”

“Holy shit,” everyone says in unison.

Jonathan nods with wide eyes. “And the groom got a bonus point for sleeping with his future mother in law.”

They were too stunned to speak, just letting the silence fill that moment. Argyle returns with a cup of something and places it in Jonathan’s hands.

“What did I miss?” he asks, looking at them all super confused. “Are you guys broken?”

Steve shakes his head, trying to wrap his head around what was just said. “I don’t think I’ve heard that one before.”

“And this is coming from someone who has actually slept with one of his frat bro’s moms,” Robin interjects.

“On accident. And she was his stepmom, that was much younger than his dad, well after I was in college. He doesn’t know, it’s fine.”

“Did that cause another sex ban?” Eddie asks.

Steve laughs. “No, that’s when the figured out that the previous sex ban wasn’t working.”

Jonathan takes a sip of the drink Argyle gave him. “Jesus, that’s strong. Did you bribe them or something?”

“Something like that. Seriously though, what did I miss?”

“Groom slept with the future mother-in-law,” Robin fills in, Argyle winces. “What is with people?”

Jonathan shrugs. “Don’t know. But it was a big wedding that they are not getting a refund for. And I still got cake, well what was left of it.”

Eddie leans forward. “What was left of it?”

“Yeah,” Jonathan nods. “Speeches were right before cake, so the bride took the entire top layer and slammed it over the groom’s head. Followed by the maid of honor taking two giant handfuls and shoving it into the best man’s face. Arguments broke out and all that shit. I stayed back to help clean up.”

“Had they signed the marriage certificate yet?” Nancy asks.

Jonathan sighs. “No clue, don’t care. It’s over and I got paid. A lot. This was not a cheap wedding. Oh right,” Jonathan reaches down into his bag and grabs a takeout container, handing it to Argyle. “Saved you a piece of cake.”

Argyle takes it, opening it and starting to eat it. Nodding his head in appreciation.

The rest of the group looks at Jonathan. “Where’s our cake?” Robin asks, a little hurt.

“You don’t live with me, you don’t get cake.”

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or taken off) @slowandsteddie, @annieofhearts, @cacdyke, @ubpd, @captain--low, @thespaceantwhowrites, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @lunaticparisianlady, @apomaro-mellow, @dolphincliffs, @dragonmama76, @maggiebug417, @stevesbipanic, @fearieshadow, @mentallyundone, @eightpackdiaz, @au79burger @bookworm0690 , @practicallybegging, @potato-of-the-lord, @autumncrocusandladybug

[lyn31]

🎼 Dress👗

Summary:

"Only bought this dress so you could take it off, take it off~" - Taylor Swift, Dress Starting with a secret relationship, stolen glances, subtle touch, marking each other and ended up with you waking up together. A collection of moment about your relationship with you childhood friend, best friend and as everyone else know him the stoic and strict doctor, Zayne. It's thrilling, it's sweet, and it's electrifying.

Disclaimer:

Alright listen, I love Caleb alright, as a friend, as a bro, he's like a brother that I never had so let me have this! My bro is still with me! But anyway... Fluff and technically AU Pairing: Zayne x Reader/MC

Ao3 link

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The room hums with conversation, laughter spilling over the clinking of glasses and the low pulse of music. Familiar faces, some barely changed, others worn by time, move through the dimly lit space, caught in moments of nostalgia.

Across from you, he leans back in his chair, effortlessly at ease. To everyone else, he’s just your best friend—same as always. The two of you, inseparable, yet nothing more. That’s what they think.

But then his eyes meet yours. Just for a second. A flicker of  longing that only you recognize.

You look away, pretending to listen to whatever story is being told beside you. He does the same, nodding along to a conversation he isn’t really part of. But the tension lingers, a thread pulling between you, tightening with every stolen glance.

No one here knows. Not your friends, not even the ones who know you best. And maybe that’s what makes this moment sharper, heavier. The secret tucked between smiles, the quiet thrill of pretending.

"Man, I still can’t believe it," someone says, shaking their head with a laugh. "You three? Still thick as thieves after all these years? How does that even happen?"

You barely have time to think of a response before Caleb jumps in, all easy confidence and that familiar grin. "What can I say? Some bonds don’t break. You spend enough time together, suffer through enough bad group projects, and suddenly you’re stuck for life."

Laughter ripples through the table, and you nod, playing along. "Yeah, at this point, cutting either of them off would feel like losing a limb."

"Aw, you’d miss us that much?" Caleb teases, nudging you lightly.

"You wish," you shoot back, and the group laughs again.

Zayne, as expected, doesn’t say much. He just sits there, quiet, unreadable, offering nothing but a small nod of agreement. To everyone else, it’s just him being himself—stoic, detached, not one for small talk. But you know better.

You feel it in the way his fingers tap idly against the table, a slow, familiar rhythm. You see it in the way his gaze flickers toward you, barely noticeable, but enough. It’s a reminder. A quiet acknowledgment.

And just like that, you’re back there—

Late nights spent in Caleb’s car, all three of you crammed inside, talking about nothing and everything. The glow of streetlights casting shadows over Zayne’s face as he stared out the window, quiet as always. You’d watch him, thinking about how unfair it was that someone could just exist like that—unbothered, impossible to read, while you sat there, heart twisted up in knots over him.

Inside jokes whispered across crowded hallways, his shoulder brushing yours as you walked side by side, the warmth lingering longer than it should. That moment in the library when he passed you his notes, fingers grazing yours, the briefest touch that sent something sharp and electric down your spine.

You remember waiting.

Waiting for a sign, for something solid, something more than the stolen glances and unspoken moments. But Zayne was always just out of reach, his walls too high, his silence impossible to read.

And you—too caught up in your own doubts to realize he was waiting, too.

You blink, pulled back into the present as Caleb keeps talking, effortlessly carrying the conversation. Around you, the reunion buzzes on—glasses clinking, old friends swapping stories, laughter rising over the hum of background music.

Zayne still hasn’t said a word. But under the table, where no one else can see, his fingers brush against yours. Just for a second. Just enough to remind you—

You aren’t waiting anymore.

A sharp voice jolts you out of your thoughts.

“Wait—hold on. When did you get that?”

You barely have time to process before Harper leans in, eyes locked on the ink at the nape of your neck.

“You got a tattoo?” she accuses, voice full of mock betrayal. “And you didn’t come to me?”

You blink, momentarily caught off guard. “Oh. Uh—”

“Wait—you have a tattoo?” Caleb cuts in, sounding equally shocked. His gaze flicks to your neck, then back to you, brows raised.

You wave a hand, shrugging like it’s nothing. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

Caleb scoffs. “Not a big deal? You used to freak out over temporary tattoos lasting too long.”

Harper leans in more, squinting. “Hold on. That’s a smart ink heartbeat, isn’t it?”

Caleb pauses mid-sip, lowering his glass. “A heartbeat tattoo?” His brows shoot up. “Alright, now you have to tell me why.”

You roll your eyes. “There’s no story. I just liked it.”

Caleb tilts his head, grinning. “Right. Because nothing says ‘casual impulse’ like permanently inking a heartbeat on yourself.”

Harper snickers. “Yeah, whose is it?”

You shrug again, keeping your expression neutral. “Mine.”

Caleb gives you a long, unimpressed look. “Uh-huh.”

“What?” You fold your arms. “It is.”

“Sure,” he drawls, clearly unconvinced but not pushing further. Instead, he just grins wider. “Damn. Never thought I’d see the day.”

You roll your eyes, but before you can say anything, you catch movement from across the table. Instinctively, your gaze flicks to Zayne.

He doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t react. Just takes a slow sip of his drink, as carefully blank as ever. But beneath the table, his fingers brush against yours. Just a fleeting touch.

And suddenly, you remember exactly why you got it.

Not just because you liked it.

Because it was his.

And because every time you tie your hair up, every time his eyes catch on the exposed skin of your neck, every time his lips find the exact spot where the ink sits now—you remember.

You glance back up at him, but his gaze has already moved away, back to the rest of the room like nothing happened. Like he isn’t sitting there, knowing exactly what that tattoo means.

And Caleb—oblivious as ever—just leans back, shaking his head.

The night is winding down. The crowd has thinned, leaving only scattered groups of lingering classmates, voices softer now, laughter blending into the hum of the venue’s closing atmosphere. You weave through them, making your way back from the bar, ready to call it a night.

Near the entrance, Caleb is saying his goodbyes, but as soon as he spots you, his brows furrow slightly. “You’ve been drinking,” he points out, crossing his arms. “You shouldn’t go home alone. I can drive you.”

You shake your head with a small smile. “I’ll just take a cab, Caleb. It’s fine.”

He doesn’t look convinced. “Yeah, no, that’s not a great idea—”

Before he can finish, Zayne stands. “I’ll drive her.”

The words are calm, matter-of-fact. He rolls down his sleeves as he straightens, glancing briefly at Caleb. “I need to head home anyway.”

Caleb exhales, look relieved. “Alright. Guess that works.” He turns back to you, pointing. “Text me when you get home.”

You roll your eyes. “Yes, dad.”

He smirks. “Damn right.” Then he claps Zayne on the shoulder in farewell. “Take care, man.”

With that, goodbyes are exchanged, and you and Zayne step out into the night.

The air is cooler now, crisp against your skin. You’re walking beside him, and without a word, he shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders, his hands lingering for a second before he pulls away. His scent clings to the fabric, warmth still trapped in it from his body.

“Wouldn’t want you catching a cold,” he says, voice quieter now, almost absentminded—like it’s the most natural thing in the world. But there’s a softness to it, a quiet care that makes your chest tighten.

And yet, your mind is already drifting elsewhere—because damn, does he look good tonight.

It’s nothing over the top. With his jacket on you, he’s left in just a crisp white button-down, sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms, tucked into tailored black slacks. Simple. Effortless. But there’s something about it—about the way the fabric stretches across his broad shoulders, about the way his arms look unfairly good like that, veins subtly lining his hands—

You’re too busy swooning to realize he’s stopped walking.

You only notice when you take another step and find yourself suddenly alone.

Blinking, you glance to the side—and meet his gaze.

He’s watching you, his expression unreadable, but there’s a small, knowing curve to his lips.

Then, he says your name. Just your name.

And somehow, everything else fades.

The city sounds dull, the cool air forgotten. It’s just him now. The sharp cut of his jaw in the dim streetlights, the way his dark eyes seem to pull you in, holding you there.

Something shifts in them.

“You’re not making this easy for me,” he murmurs, voice low.

You swallow. “What?”

He exhales, shaking his head slightly. “I’m good at controlling myself.” A pause. His gaze drags over you, slow, deliberate. “But not when it comes to you.”

Your pulse stutters.

His eyes trace the thin straps of your dress, the way it exposes your shoulders, your neck—the backless cut hidden beneath his jacket, the slit running high along your leg.  

He already liked the dress when he first saw you tonight. You know that. But right now, under his gaze alone, you can feel it.

Then he leans in slightly, his voice quieter now. “What do you think this dress does to me?”

You should be embarrassed. Flustered. And maybe you are, judging by the heat creeping up your neck.

But instead, you square your shoulders and meet his gaze head-on.

“I hope it’s a good one,” you say smoothly. “I bought this dress so you could take it off, after all.”

It comes out steady, confident. But the second the words leave your mouth, heat spreads—your ears, your cheeks burning.

Zayne’s reaction is instant. His pupils darken, something unrestrained flickering in his eyes. For a moment, he just looks at you, unmoving.

Then you notice it.

His ears.

The tips of them, red.

A slow exhale leaves him, and then he steps closer, his voice lower now, edged with something rough.

“Then I better get started on that,” he murmurs. “Preferably not on the sidewalk.”

Just like that, the tension shifts—still charged, but laced with teasing.

You let out a breathy laugh, but your heart is still hammering.

Because the night is far from over.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s rare for the three of you to get a day off at the same time.

With the way schedules clash—your shifts, Zayne’s surgeries, Caleb’s unpredictable workload—it almost never happens. So when it finally did, Caleb had immediately suggested the three of you hang out.

And you… may have dodged that invitation.

Just this once.

Because as much as you love Caleb, it had been too long since you and Zayne had a day off together. Just the two of you.

And now, here you are.

After spending the entire day lazing around at home, barely leaving the couch between naps, movies, and tangled limbs, you’re now soaking in the warmth of the bathtub, wrapped up in the scent of lavender and the heat of Zayne behind you, his chest firm and solid behind you, the rise and fall of his breathing steady—except for when his lips find your neck.

Again.

And again.

His mouth brushes lazily over your tattoo, lingering like he’s reminding himself it’s there. Like he’s claiming it all over again.

His fingers, damp and slow, skim down your arm, tracing absentminded patterns on your skin before they wander lower, teasing.

A shiver runs through you, and you tighten your grip on your wine glass, trying to focus on not reacting too much.

It was fine. Nice, even. Until suddenly—

His fingers shift.

And—oh.

The touch catches you off guard, a sharp, unexpected spark zipping down your spine. Your body jolts—and in the process, your grip on the wine glass wobbles.

Then, it happens.

The glass tips back.

A slosh of red spills right behind you.

Right onto Zayne.

There’s a beat of silence.

You turn slightly—just in time to see the aftermath.

Zayne’s expression is blank, lips parted slightly in delayed realization, his usually sharp features now half-covered in deep red. A drop of wine drips down his cheek, staining the pale skin of his throat.

He blinks once. Then, slowly, his tongue flicks out, tasting the stray droplet at the corner of his lips.

And that’s it.

Laughter erupts from you, full and unrestrained.

“You—” You can barely get the words out between breaths. “You look like a crime scene.”

Zayne exhales through his nose, lifting a hand to wipe at his face, but it only smears the wine further. You’re still giggling as you shift forward, already moving to climb out of the bath.

“Okay, I’ll grab a towel,” you say between laughs. “You should probably—”

Before you can finish, an arm wraps firmly around your waist.

You barely have time to yelp before you’re pulled right back against him.

The water sloshes over the edges of the tub as you settle on his lap, straddling him now. His arms tighten, caging you in.

You blink down at him.

Zayne blinks back up at you.

His eyes are slightly unfocused, his usually sharp demeanor softened by the alcohol in his system.

Oh. Oh.

You’ve seen Zayne like this before.

Drunk Zayne is rare, but when it happens, one thing is guaranteed—he clings.

And right now? That’s exactly what he’s doing. Sometimes you forget how much of a lightweight he is. Well, lightweight is generous—he really can’t handle alcohol at all, which is probably another reason he avoids it.

His lips brush your cheek, then your jaw, then your nose, peppering soft, uncoordinated kisses, like he has no plan other than covering you in them.

“Zayne,” you try, still half-laughing. “We should get out—”

He hums against your skin, clearly not listening.

His kisses trail lower.

The warmth of his mouth follows the curve of your throat, lingering just below your ear before drifting down.

Your fingers, still damp from the water, absently trace along his chest, gliding over familiar ink.

The thin, sharp line of his tattoo.

Your tattoo.

The heartbeat that matches yours, sitting right over his heart.

You trace the design slowly, feeling the way his muscles shift beneath your touch. Zayne exhales slightly, his body relaxing further against you, but there’s something more in his gaze now—something heated, something deeper.

Your pulse flutters.

Then, your lips curve, eyes flicking back to his.

“Want to continue this out of the tub?”

Zayne blinks at you, momentarily dazed, before letting out a soft chuckle. His hands tighten at your waist.

And then, his lips trail lower again, moving down—

And, well.

Looks like you’re staying in the tub a little longer.

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You wake up to the sight of Zayne’s face, close enough that you can see the faint traces of sleep still clinging to him—the slow rise and fall of his breathing, the way his lashes flicker slightly, the softness in his usually sharp features.

For a moment, you just watch him, warmth settling in your chest.

Then, memories from last night creep in.

Meeting up with Caleb.

Planning to finally tell him about you and Zayne.

You had expected some kind of shock—maybe even a dramatic reaction—but instead, Caleb had just grinned.

A big, knowing, downright cheeky grin.

And then, he said, “Took you long enough.”

That had been enough to send you into stunned silence. Zayne, ever composed, had simply exhaled through his nose in mild amusement.

Meanwhile, you had barely managed a flustered, “Wait, what?”

Caleb had just laughed, shaking his head. “Come on. You guys thought you were being subtle? I was just waiting to see how long it would take. Honestly, way longer than I predicted.”

You had groaned, covering your face with both hands as Caleb continued to tease, thoroughly enjoying the moment.

And then—just to really make a point—he had said, “By the way, if you two ever have a kid, I’m calling dibs on godfather.”

At the memory, a smile tugs at your lips, amusement bubbling up all over again.

That’s when you feel movement beside you.

Zayne shifts, his brows furrowing slightly before his eyes flutter open—heavy-lidded and still hazy with sleep.

He takes one look at you, then lazily scoots closer, burying his face against your chest with a soft sigh.

A chuckle escapes you.

“Good morning,” you murmur, running a hand through his sleep-mussed hair.

He doesn’t reply—just hums against your skin, his arms tightening slightly around your waist.

You glance at the clock. It’s still early.

Cuddling for a little while longer wouldn’t be a bad idea.

So you settle in, wrapping your arms around him, feeling the steady warmth of his body against yours.

Zayne exhales, his hold on you easy, content, as he nuzzles against your chest.

And just like that, neither of you are in any hurry to move.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You’re curled up on the couch, scrolling through your phone while waiting for Zayne to arrive. The soft glow of your living room lamp casts a cozy warmth around you, and the smell of sweet tea lingers in the air. You’d already set out his favorite snacks—anything sugary, because your serious, stoic boyfriend has the sweetest tooth.

No alcohol tonight, though. As much as you want to... You have a morning shift tomorrow.

Your thumb pauses on the screen when a post about a dress catches your eye. It’s elegant, a little daring, and something about it reminds you of the dress you wore to your reunion a few months ago. That dress—Zayne’s reaction to it—how he looked at you, touched you...

You glance down at yourself now—loose, comfortable clothes, what you usually wear at home. Practical, sure, but maybe not the most exciting choice.

Thinking for a moment, you finally push yourself up and head to your room.

Just as you’re adjusting the fabric of your outfit in the mirror, you hear the front door open.

“I’m home,” Zayne calls out, his voice steady and familiar.

Something about hearing him say home makes warmth bloom in your chest. You shake the feeling off, smoothing down your dress before stepping out of your room.

Zayne has just finished putting his things away when he turns toward you—and stops.

His gaze moves over you, slow and deliberate, and you see the exact moment something shifts in his expression.

“Looks like I’m a little underdressed for the occasion,” he says, his voice laced with amusement as he starts walking toward you.

You don’t move—just let him take you in, knowing he’s enjoying every second of it.

When he reaches you, he lifts a hand, fingers sliding gently through your hair, gathering it together and lifting it up, exposing the nape of your neck.

“Perfect,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin before he leans in and presses a kiss just below your ear.

A shiver runs down your spine.

Then he kisses you.

Your arms wind around his neck as his hands travel down—trailing from your hair to your neck, then lower, fingers brushing over your shoulders, playing with the thin straps of your dress.

Between kisses, he hums, teasing, “I’m supposed to take this off, right?”

You can feel his smile against your lips.

Your own smile mirrors his as you pull him in closer.

“Well,” you say, voice light, playful, “that was the plan.”

Zayne chuckles, his breath warm against your skin. “Then I better not waste any time.”

And with that, the night truly begins.

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Notes:

I'm framing this like a slow pace montage, following the song yk, which is why it's keep jumping, and If I do say myself it turn out alright! Love this song, love fluff and ofc love Zayne lol I just wish I can highlight more of Zayne's behavior but I feel like this fit the song vibes and lyrics more, next time then. If anyone has ideas about Zayne, I’m open to hearing them! This new hyperfixation needs to be quelled…....

[frostedshore]

i miss this little diva. when will i play sims 3 again? we'll never know

[littlemisscrybabysstuff]

I may have terrible mental health but at least I have a nice body

[badninken]

he's thriving

[nelkcats]

The King's Favorite

The only possession that Catherine left Jason was an ice rose. She commented that it was some kind of family charm, that it had been with them for many generations and brought luck and that she knew the rose would save him one day. The last image Jason had of his mother was her smile as she handed him the rose.

Jason was always curious about the rose, it was cold and he swore it was made of solid ice but that should be impossible since it didn't melt. He was never brave enough to tell Bruce about it; maybe it was dumb, but he didn't want his paranoid father to take away the last memory of his mother.

The day Jason died he mocked the rose, neatly nestled in his bag a few meters away. Luck? Not at all. Saving? What a joke. While he closed his eyes he regretted everything he did wrong, everything he didn't get to live. As his tears fell to the warehouse floor, the rose slipped out of his bag, as if it went through it.

Unbeknownst to Jason, the ice rose ended up near his foot and began to fuse with his skin, leaving a small blue tattoo on his ankle, and for some reason, in his last few minutes, Jason felt warm.

A month after being buried, the tattoo began to glow blue. At midnight a voice was heard in the empty Gotham Cemetery.

"Wake up, my little Rose"

Jason's eyes snapped open in confusion as he woke up in his coffin. The Ghost King smirked as he looked at his chosen one while sitting on his throne of ice in the Infinite Realms, a new heir, huh?

[the-unrivalled-pessimist]

crying real tears

[bludhavensbirdboy]

i’ve been thinking about the batboys and tattoos and my thoughts are that dick would be the only one with multiple tattoos hear me out and i’ll get to my dick thoughts 🤲

jason - i think jason looks like he would have tattoos cause he’s got the bike and the leather jacket and the whole aesthetic thing going on but i feel like at most he’d maybe have a tattoo on his pec or his ribs, nothing visible and something small and it would def be meaningful

tim - i believe tim would be on the same lines as jason with the small tattoo but just on his arm somewhere maybe on his bicep but i think it’s probs a silly tattoo that he got when he was like delirious or something, just something fun yk.

damian - is a child always will be bros peter panning it rn he can’t get tattoos so…

dick - finally the person i acc think would have tattoos, but i don’t think they’d be visible or like full sleeves i think dick has the most tattoos and they are littered all over his stomach, ribs, chest maybe some on his upper back like shoulder blades and maybe the odd upper thigh tattoo, i also think they’d be on the larger side and the first one would have been meaningful but he then started getting things he liked the aesthetic of. basically dick has a lot of tattoos but you are only getting to see them when he has his shirt off (give me one chance pls)

bonus - in my ideal dream land bruce has a tattoo for all his kids.

another bonus i think in an ideal world where the batboys have the time to heal piercings before fighting on the regular i think jason would have piercings, some ear piercings and maybe an eyebrow piercing and my fav little slut dick would have nipple piercings or a belly button piercings 🫢 (who said that…in my little dream land rn)

also chat idk if in canon they have tattoos or have opinions about such things pls just let me live if im wrong about this love yous 🙏🙏🙏

[sydtodd21]

bc who doesn’t love vintage Victoria Secret? 🫶🏻

[shapesintheklouds]

"Something special I made just for you.."

Secret Santa gift for Deery on discord, charpim for their SF tattoo AU! :D This was so fun to do and I did some research and found an edible flower called butterfly pea. When mixed with color changing alcohol it creates the most beautiful blue or purple colors! I thought it would be cute if Charlie treated Pim to some after work Christmas drinks (after going to several places to find this flower, anything for his cute boyfriend!)