#confuse his ancient ass
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Dream: I am Dream of the Endless. King of Dreams. Ruler of the Nightmare Realms.
Hob: Hi Duck!! 😄
Y/N: Hi Pookie!! 😄
(I just have this visceral urge to call dream pookie at least once🤭)
Dream: … hi
Long pause
Dream: I am confused, where did duck and - and pookie come from? Is that me?
Hob and you: yup! It’s you 🥰
Dream: …
Hob: well are you going to give us a nickname back?
Dream: … hi … loves?
Hob: hey at least his trying
You snickers: pookie bear is trying his best
You and Hob burst out into laughter
Dream:


#confuse his ancient ass#the sandman#morpheus#dream of the endless#robert gadling#hob gadling#morpheus x reader#dream of the endless x reader#hob gadling x reader#hob x reader#morpheus x reader x hob#dream x reader x hob#x reader#anon#ask
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Worst artist in the BurningCheese community decides to get uppity (again), makes fankid collage/group photo in celebration of us all sharing a brain cell
Left to right:
Leftmost is @stories4eve 's (1)*
Little bro being a nuisance up north is @sunny-sourzii 's (2)
To their right, and to the immediate left of the middle one, is @estarletnova 's (3)
Middle Pepper Jack, aka the best and coolest and most adorable one, is my little guy
Pepper Jack immediately to the right of mine is @ewitsewwie 's (5)
And then next to that, furthest right, is @rawaso 's (6) I'm still extremely sorry for thinking yours looked too similar to mine. What a fucking blunder honestly. I need new glasses
Bonus panel featuring my little guy's sister, titled "I Got Really Tired At The End And Just Wanted To Scribble". There are suddenly six versions of Matar Paneer's brother, at least one of them not even being a boy(?), and she is extremely confused. Either somebody explains to her what's going on or she starts stabbing the other 5 with her katar because she thinks they're evil doppelgangers of some sort
If any of the artists tagged here want the individual doodles of their kiddies just let me know. I made sure to save them all before editing them together. I'll send them to your ask box(es) or something
*I'm sorry to Eve for changing your kid's look. I honestly could not make sense of his appearance no matter how hard I tried. The other ones were difficult enough for me as they were lol. I did this for my own sake. Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa
#i am in fact Very Unhappy that there is apparently only an even number of these spicy cheese babies#an odd number would have equal distribution on both sides. I had to do something unconventional so it would look less lopsided#sunny's kid looks like he'd be an instigator so boom he gets to disrupt the lineup#i honestly felt pretty embarrassed making this bc i genuinely am the worst artist among us by a long shot lol#“coming up to the Renaissance painters with my macaroni art” sort of vibes ykwim#oh well at least i have heart i suppose. i have spirit. i have lunacy#anyway congrats to all us BurningCheese shippers i love you all very much#BurningCheese is peak and canon 😎😎😎 Burning Spice loves a woman who can beat his ass#cookie run kingdom#burningcheese#goldenspice#pepper jack cookie#x6 lol#matar paneer cookie#almost confused myself when writing who is left and who is right lol#it is OUR left and right not theirs. just to be clear#don't stay up until 3 am multiple nights a week kids it ain't good for you#paravani#little peacock bro gets his own tag now 😎 should've done that earlier lol#burning spice cookie#golden cheese cookie#they're not in the collage but whatever they're there in spirit#this took a week now you all have to look at it. LOOK AT IT#beast x ancient
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Health Code Violation- DC x DP prompt
"Hold on there. You're not permitted beyond this point." The floating teenage boy said as he tucked his clipboard under his arm.
After a battle with another world-ending villain Superman was killed in action and after a short debate the decision to revive him using the Lazarus Pit was made. However, the league members who were carrying his body to the pit didn't expect it to be blocked off with caution tape. A teenage boy with stark white hair and wearing a hard hat and orange construction vest.
"What are you doing out here kid? And what is with the tape?" Barry asked shifting Clark's heavy ass body from crushing him.
"I'm here to take a look at the leak." He said pointing a thumb in the direction of the green pit.
"The leak?" Diana echoed in confusion.
"Yeah, your planet has a leak. A few actually. Our realm hasn't been managed well and now that the old king is gone we need to fix some things. Right now the leaks need to be sealed." He said. "Also what's with the dead guy?"
"We were bringing him to the Lazarus Pit to revive him." Barry said blankly.
The teen shook his head in astonishment almost dropping his clipboard.
"You are what?! With the what?!"
"The Lazarus pit...?" Hal laughed nervously his face in a half-quirked smile.
"You call it a Lazarus Pit? Guys this is a pool of contaminated ectoplasm. Basically sewage. This thing is full of dead people juice. All those leftover emotions and obsessions are stewing in there. You toss that body in these pool and you'll make a revenant full of anger. It doesn't even have an ecosystem to cleanse it. It's like stagnant water." The teen said waving his pen around before pausing "Wait a minute....you people have been using it? No wonder it's so polluted! What is wrong with you?! Are you trying to contaminate your planet? Do you want zombies?"
It was kind of weird to be scolded by a kid, for everyone but Bruce. He thought of a more pragmatic approach. He didn't like the pit but he acknowledged it's usefulness.
"I understand. But we do want to save our friend and the only way is to use the pit."
"That's a big ask. The pit is one thing but bringing back the dead willy nilly? ...But I guess that's my domain now.. "
The teen mumbled to himself before sighing.
"Look, I want to help. I really do. But the pit is unstable and there are many more on this planet with the same issue. We can't risk an apocalypse and the chance they get into the wrong hands. This is for the safety of your planet." The teen said as mannerly as possible as he dismissed the heros.
"Come on, please. Our friend is dead. You don't want our friend to die." Barry said pleadingly.
"Very mature of you. A bit of shame might help you...alright fine but don't badger me again." The silver-haired being said taking out a small syringe and taking a sample of his own blood.
"It's diluted compared to the pure stuff but 10x stronger than the stuff in the pool. It's safer and once he's kicking again it'll drain out of his system." He tossed the needle to Barry and returned to taking samples of the pit. "This biohazard requires an ecologist. I'll have to import some blob feeders to clean up the toxins. Then either seal this up or link it to the network. But these dumb mortals are just going to keep dumping bodies into it."
The teen mumbled to himself as he tried to find a solution.
A week later all the Lazarus pits had disappeared. The Al Ghuls were scrambling as the source of their powers dried up.
Clark was alive and feeling better than ever. No pit rage at all.
Eventually the boy returned.
"I had a talk with the ancients and they agreed to let you have one ecto pool. Only one thought and it has to be managed by me. As long as you don't try abusing it by going into it while alive or not asking permission I'll allow you to use it. Also, be mindful of my cleaning wisps, they work very hard to keep the natural flow of the ecto cycle going." The teen said holding up a green little ghost blob and petting it.
#what should i name the little blobs#i know danny named each one#dpxdc#dc x dp#dc x dp prompt#danny fenton#danny phantom#dp x dc prompt
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Danny was in Gotham because if he wanted to be an astronaut when he's officially out of the coffin, he needed schooling damn it. he also needed that for the "being the future king and ancient of space" thing so he's tired and drinking "death wish" coffee(he loves the name and it has the amount on caffeine that should hopefully work on his half dead ass)
he did not expect to get kidnapped by a frazzled secretary and forced to do ceo work but he rolled with it. if he's forced to do paperwork might as well do it well.
Tim is confused and would be sure he's hallucinating if not the fact that half his work for today was in fact done.
"so you're 'Tim' Tam mistook me for?"
to be fair to Tam they did look at least similar not identical but that with the exhaustion black slightly longer hair and blue eyes(the he had some green in them and they were surprisingly bright for someone looking half dead)
#dead tired ship#possibly#dpxdc#dc x dp#i love this#feel free to use#danny and tim are NOT related#they're just little guys#with way too much stuff and way too little sleep#Tim is world class napper so gets a little more sleep#danny is surprisingly good at spontaneously running a company#Tam is getting a break#Luru's own
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Shen Qingqiu may know a lot about PIDW, monsters, the plot and papapa plot devices, but, traditional ancient music? Are they seriously going to ask him to learn all those old songs in addition to trying to save his ass from a horrible death?
So, in guqin classes with his students, Shen Qingqiu decides that it is not bad to teach them adaptations of modern music. Nothing crazy. Popular stuff, something classic Queen like exaggerations. He doesn't sing in English, but the music has this magnetic thing that can make a few of his disciples hum along, and it feels like they know the lyrics. Shen Qingqiu enjoys it very much.
Luo Binghe is the only one who actually hears him sing it. With English lyrics included. Of course, Luo Binghe has no idea what it means, but that doesn't mean he can't imitate it! So he's singing softly while washing some robes, enjoying Shizun's musical gift to him, when he hears someone stumble.
That someone turns out to be Shang Qinghua, the An Ding Peak Lord, who stands up from the ground with wide eyes. Luo Binghe interrupts his song, looking at him in confusion, when Shang-shishu... run at him?!
"Bro" Shang-shishu says, in a casual and unpleasant manner, with an expression on his face that Luo Binghe had never seen before, "What the fuck. What the fuck. Queen? Somebody to love? Are you kidding me? How did you get the Protagonist!?"
... and Shang Qinghua begins to speak.
Luo Binghe is sixteen years old, and at this point in his life, he is intelligent, manipulative, and able to handle the situations around him with cunning. So, he manages to keep a conversation going with Shang Qinghua by repeating strange words that he doesn't understand the meaning of, letting the man talk and say things like, Transmigrator? System? Username? How many years has he been there? How did he get the "Scum Villain" to treat him well? Is he preparing for the "Endless Abyss"? Since apparently, that thing, System, had told him that it was an "inescapable plot"...
Luo Binghe is evasive. He says he's been there since he was a baby, which turns out to be an appropriate answer. Bit by bit, he says he doesn't have many memories, which Shang Qinghua seems to understand? He says that some memories settle when he reaches adulthood? That this happened to him. He was twenty when he was really able to manage "both lives" in one coherent thing.
Luo Binghe listens, humming in all the right places, being elusive and evasive but Shang Qinghua doesn't even seem to suspect anything. He insists that he should prepare for the Endless Abyss and promises to get him some weapons and talismans that he can hide. He tells him that he hopes "His King" won't make such a fuss without so many monsters.
Finally, the evening falls, Shang Qinghua begs him to please keep seeing each other to talk, he is tired of being alone.
Luo Binghe looks at the wet clothes. He finishes washing and leaves with many things on his mind.
Shang Qinghua recognized him as a "Transmigrator", whatever that was, from the song. The song his Shizun had taught him. He had asked him how long he had been here. At first, the question hadn't made much sense, but looking back, recalling Shizun's complete change in temperament and personality... Luo Binghe can get an idea of how long Shizun has been there.
Besides, what was all that about "Protagonist"? Luo Binghe is not an epic hero blessed by the gods, and he doesn't have the abilities to be classified as one. Or does he?
That night, he makes an impeccable dinner. He makes sure to present all of Shizun's favorite foods, favorite tea, and favorite scented candles. A treat for the senses. When he sees his Shizun start eating, he just smiles sweetly before:
"Shizun, this humble disciple has a question about the future."
"Mnh, this Master listens."
"Why must this disciple fall into the Endless Abyss as an inevitable plot? Is there no way the System will allow this disciple to stay with his Shizun, or is this an unavoidable fate because this humble one is the Protagonist?"
The chopsticks fall from Shizun's hand. The expression on his face is one of the deepest horror.
"Binghe, what...?"
And his Shizun looks in all directions. He seems to be searching for something that isn't there. The "System", perhaps? Whatever that is, Binghe has never seen or felt it. And, at that moment, his Shizun doesn't seem to see it either. Or, he sees it, but what he sees seems not to be a response of cosmic horror. What he sees makes his Shizun's countenance turn peaceful. After terror and tension, his shoulders relax.
"First, Binghe has to tell me where he got all that... information" begins his Shizun. Binghe nods quickly; he won't have any problems with exposing Shang-shishu if necessary. He has no loyalty to him, not like he does to his Shizun. "Very good. Binghe, sit next to me and pour us some more tea. This is going to be a long conversation."
And it definitely was.
#svsss#svsss au#svsss ideas#mxtx svsss#shen qingqiu#luo binghe#shang qinghua#bingqiu#identity revealed#accidentally#shang qinghua brokes all the system protocols#and the system is just: fuck off im not playing anymore#basically gave them free rein to do whatever they wanted#as long as they respect certain inevitable points of the plot#there is no abyss skip#or yes?
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=͟͟͞♡ Healing Hearts =͟͟͞♡
=͟͟͞♡ Pairings:-Doctor Gojo x Intern F!Reader
=͟͟͞♡ Contents/warnings- Medical procedures, surgery descriptions, crazy sexual tension, eventually explicit sex etc. ER setting. Reader 26, Dr. Gojo 34, small age gap, work sex, complications, lots of humor, eventual drama and angst. Grey's vibes ✨️
=͟͟͞♡ Summary- You are the top Surgical Doctor intern, along with Maki, Yuta and Toge. You all are exhausted from passing the first month, sixteen plus hour days, days you don't even go home, all to get a top spot with the star Surgeon, Dr. Gojo, your resident doctor and boss. Or as you call him, Dr. Hojo. He's takes nothing serious but his surgeries it seems, and has a reputation for being a player, but he has that top spot, so you want to prove your worth! You just have to ignore those stupid butterflies he gives you, and those pretty blue eyes, along with his interest in you, and focus!
Comment to get added to the tag list
=͟͟͞♡ Playlist =͟͟͞♡ Masterlist =͟͟͞♡ Part two
♡ Part One ♡
Fuck, you’re exhausted, the first month of your internship as a surgeon was brutal, you haven’t had but a couple hours of sleep here and there, mostly on some of the hospital beds. Your bones ache, your skincare routine is barely hanging by a thread, and your hair is a wreck in a messy bun today. You thought med school was difficult, but it was nothing like this.
“Hey, you okay babe?” Your best friend Maki Zenin asks softly, you look at her and smile, nodding, she purses her lips, tilting her glasses. “No you’re not.”
“I’m wiped, Maki. This patient injected cocaine up his ass.” She bursts out laughing right in the middle of the hospital floor, you cover her mouth quickly, looking around. “Shh!”
“Shit, forreal? I thought my case was bad, he’s been here eight times for hits of pain meds since I have been here, he keeps bashing his hand on shit.” She sighs, handing her files to the desk then picking up several more.
You’re both in your pale blue scrubs, Maki’s pretty green hair is high up in a ponytail, now your other two best friends from your internship come up, Inumaki Toge and Yuta Okkotsu, both looking exhausted along with you. Yuta’s eye bags rival yours by far, he slicks back his dark hair as you all check the time on your watches.
“Another sixteen hours almost down.” He says through a yawn.
“Tired.” Inumaki says, and you sigh, nodding in agreement.
“Fuck that, we need to throw a party.” Maki says, somehow still so energetic, and you’re so confused how it’s possible.
“Party?” Inumaki asks, he’s certainly a man of few words, but his violet eyes explain whatever anyone needs to know.
“No way, Maki. Fuck that.” Yuta says, earning Maki sticking her tongue out at him.
“Buzz kill, ugh. Listen, this weekend, we’ll invite some of the people from our class, we can invite some of the other interns too. Ooh, maybe even those sexy resident doctors.” She wiggles her brows with a mischievous little grin.
“Maki, we're too old for that shit now.” You grumble.
“Bitch we’re twenty six? How are we old.”
“I feel ancient.” Yuta agrees. “Coffee everyone?”
“I have to stop by Doctor Gojo’s real quick, meet you all there?” You say, and they nod, waving you off as you head to your Resident doctor’s office. Dr. Gojo was the boss of you four, one of the residents along with Dr. Nanami and Dr. Geto. All three were fawned over by all the interns, except you.
Yes they were gorgeous, and yes Dr. Gojo was positively beautiful, with his snowy white hair, his glittery blue eyes, his big grin. But you were just too exhausted and too beat to really fawn over someone, especially someone you really could not be with, seeing as he is your resident, you’re just a little intern. Satoru also happens to be the top surgeon in the hospital.
You go to knock but see his door is cracked open, you carefully take the knob in your hand, twisting it and peeking your head in, seeing Satoru Gojo’s head fall back, as he’s gasping. You look curiously, but his hands are up on the desk, as he’s biting his lower lip, his brows together, eyes shut. You clear your throat and he jerks then, clearing his throat.
“Um… hey intern.” He says, his voice clipped. You shut the door behind you, tilting your head curiously at him, his face reddening slightly.
“Dr. Gojo, I have a question about this patient, is everything okay? It won’t take very long.” You say, and his eyes flicker over your face, an expression you can’t explain, as he sucks in a breath.
“I um… can listen… in… fuck, fuck!” He moans then, he clearly moans, and you hear a bump on his desk now. “Oh, oh that’s so much better.”
“I… what the fuck!?” He flushes then, sliding back, and one of the nurses jumps up, giggling now and wiping her mouth, she has pretty blue hair.
“Thank you Miwa, you’re a gem.” He stands, patting her head with a smile, and she giggles again, as you watch in confusion, your brows together, mouth open. “I need to talk to her about cool doctor things, I’ll see you around later?”
Cool Doctor things.
Blow jobs on the clock?
How is this your boss?
“Yes, Dr. Gojo. Hi there!” She waves at you, as if nothing has happened, as if she wasn’t just sucking Dr. Gojo off, and he’s looking bashful!?
“What the hell is this shit? Lock a door?” He comes to you, locking the big door with a click behind you. “Not now!”
“I forgot it was open, shit. I’m sorry. Stress relief, you know.” He smiles down at you, a stupid smirk you’d like to smack off his pretty face, hands in the pockets of his long white doctor jacket. “Don’t you ever need any?”
You heat up at his husky tone, as you realize just what you’d walked into. It had been a long time since you’d even thought that way, not just with Med school but now being an intern, especially since you broke up with your ex months back. “What? Yuck don’t come near me.”
“Why, ya jealous.” He brushes your hair back, earning your glare. “You’re awfully cute when you are.”
“Jealous of you? No thanks, I'm good. I sure am not part of your fan club.”
Satoru pouts. “Yeah, and you’re the only one.”
“Yep. Anyway, I’m now disturbed.” You shiver with feigned disgust, making him snort a bit in laughter. “But I only came in here to go over Mr. Lewis.” Sighing, you hand him the file with a gentle brush of your fingers against his palm. “He's been a difficult case.”
“Fuck, the cocaine dude? Ah shit, it’s that bad?”
“We have him stable, but something about it threw me off, how could it be that severe of an effect? Colitis has lasted days now and no improvement.”
“Mmm, true. But it makes sense, you can’t just inject cocaine into the anus and… have a party.” A hint of laughter escapes from his lips before he can control it, earning a stern look from you, making him study the file more carefully.
“Be serious.”
“I’m your boss, you know!”
“Yeah, somehow. Anyway, I feel there is something underlying. Perhaps exasperated by the cocaine.”
“Up the ass! Hah!” He’s smacking his long leg now, chuckling, earning your glare. “Oof you’re so serious, sorry, carry on.” He gives you a mock salute, and your eyes are so far back in your head they might stay that way.
“So I’m wondering if he has something else, untreated, the man has no history of any doctor visits since he was living with his parents.”
He taps his chin then. “Hmm, good point. It’s possible. Have we checked him for Chron’s?”
“Shit, maybe, that would make so much sense too, his white blood cell count is through the roof. I’ll leave a note to run some tests before I go.” You take the folder back then, your fingers brushing, and it brings a blush to your cheeks.
“What’s wrong, intern?”
“Just weirded out by you, Dr. Hojo.” He snorts then.
“Dr. Hojo!?”
“It’s what they call you, I guess it’s true.” You say, raising a brow, and he is leaning close, too close. You can smell that stupidly expensive cologne he wears every day, filling your senses far too much. You try to avoid those eyes, even though you look at them all the time, they still are…
Too much.
“And you don’t ever wanna just get eaten out?” You blush more now, looking down as he stands up tall, so fucking tall over you. “Don’t be shy now, we spend more time together than alone.”
“I don’t do that when not in relationships.” He pauses, and you expect some joke, since he takes nothing serious but surgery it seems. But he tilts your chin up, and studies you with those eyes, lids lowering ever so slightly.
“Aw, so you’re a good girl.” He says teasingly, causing a warm sensation to spread through your stomach at his words. You shake your head and try to ignore the fluttering feeling within you.
“Don’t say that!”
“Turn you on?”
“No! Jesus. I don’t care what people do with their bodies, I don’t care if you’re a whole manwhore-”
“Excuse me!”
“But I just need a relationship, I’m not attracted to just looks, there has to be a deeper connection.” He studies you carefully now, so serious unlike his usual goofy demeanor.
“Hmm, a challenge.”
“What now?” You glare up at him, clutching the folders to your chest tightly. “Not a challenge, you psycho. Go get all the blowjobs you want, like Thanos collecting all those infinity stones.”
He grins, sharp little fangs glinting, and you don’t like the effects it’s having on your body, or your mind. You can barely take a breath. “You’re actually so funny, holy shit.”
“You don’t really know me. Aside from work.”
“You never take me up on any of those offers of coffee, or grabbing a bite, all you do is work Missy. All work, no play, makes a sad girl.” He taps your nose, and it scrunches up, making him smile a bit. “Cute.”
“Whatever, I have to work my ass off, it’s important, I have to make sure I get to scrub in with you. That chance comes at the end of this month.”
“Well you’re the top intern I have, so don’t worry so much.” He pats your shoulder, and you blink a bit. “Surprised? How. You graduated top of the school, you bust your cute little butt, and you’re intelligent, caring for your patients. Of course I was picking you first.”
“Oh my god…”
“You’ve ruined your own surprise. Act surprised when you find out, mmkay?” You hug him then, heart racing as you think of it. “Oh so now you like me.”
“I can really scrub in to a surgery with you!?” You couldn't contain your excitement as you leaned back and looked up at Satoru Gojo. He nodded, his hands taking hold of your waist through your scrubs, and that touch?
Does things, fuck.
“I’m so sorry-”
“You’re fine, intern. Stay a little longer.” You nervously step back, his hands are still on your waist, making you tremble, as your eyes both lock.
“I can never fuck such an opportunity up. Um… thank you though, that gives me so much hope, maybe I can actually relax for two minutes!” He smiles softly, nodding, his hands falling to his sides. “I’m sorry I…”
“Interrupted? Nah. Think you made me cum quick.”
“What!?” You glare again, and his smirk makes you itch to smack him all over again. “Dr. Gojo!”
“You’re so pretty though, I think it made her job quicker. Win win.”
“I’m out of here. Ugh.” You turn away, hand on the knob, and then his comes on top of it and gently unlocks it with a twist, you feel his hard body against your back, and you get overwhelmed in his office, damn near unable to breathe, as he’s clearly…
Is Dr. Gojo inhaling your hair!?
“New shampoo?” He asks, you turn to glare up at him, putting your faces far, far too close.
“How would you know my…”
“You always wear that one that smells like strawberries, this one is more floral. Hmm I don’t know if I like it as much, but it’s still yummy.”
“I… you…”
“See you later, intern.” He says softly, then finally steps away, leaving you reeling as you hastily step out without a word, leaning your back against his door, shutting your eyes for a moment in the quiet hall his office is in. You shake yourself out of it quickly, he’s just being…
Dr. Hojo.
Notorious womanizer, but the best damn surgeon there was, a whole idiot and yet an entire genius. And not your type, not at all, even if he’s gorgeous, you did not like man whores, or men that aren’t serious, especially not your boss, anyway. Fucking your boss in this industry would essentially make everyone question every accomplishment as favoriteism.
You sure weren’t going to sacrifice all your hard work for some dick.
You bounce away, heading to the little cafe where your friends are waiting, sitting next to Yuta who hands you a coffee with a little smile. “Thank you, ugh.”
“You’re welcome, girlie.”
“So, party?”
“Maki!” You three say, and she sighs, shooting her espresso down.
“Next weekend! Come on you guys, what do you say?”
“Oh fine.” You concede. Maki, Yuta and Toge all live with you, in your town home, since you could absolutely not afford it yourself, with the shitty pay of your internship and the college bills. It was left to you, but you still had property taxes and other bills, so they helped a ton. “No one better fuck my house up, I swear.”
“Hell yeah, here’s to a party bitches.” She holds up her little styrofoam cup, and you all cheers each other then, laughing.
“Party, hmm?” Comes Dr. Gojo’s voice, he’s standing there with Dr. Geto and Dr. Nanami. You all get nervous then, but he grins. “I’m coming. What about you guys?”
“No way.” Nanami grumbles, he’s very serious, his glasses slung over his sandy blond hair, his face exhausted.
“I’ll come.” Dr. Geto chimes in, chuckling and sipping his coffee, he’s as tall as Dr. Gojo and well swoon worthy. He would be more your type you think, with that serious yet fun nature, whereas Dr. Gojo…
“C’mon Nanami. You gotta, you gotta, you-”
“Jesus you’re a child.” You say, and Gojo gasps at you, Geto and even Nanami laugh, only earning Gojo’s scowl.
“You brat, I’m a good eight years older than you!”
“You look like a twenty year old frat boy.”
"And you look like an angry little brat!” He shot back, only causing more laughter to erupt from the group.
“Okay, okay.” Dr. Geto holds up his hands now. “Let’s be nice, kids.”
“Kids! Suguru I’m older than you.” Gojo says with a glare.
“Like six months. Anyway, we’ll be there at this party, text us the details? We’d love to unwind.” Dr. Geto says, and Maki jumps up now, as you and Gojo are glaring at each other across your table. “Got it, thank you Maki.”
“Of course, we’ll invite both of your interns too. It’ll be much needed after hell month.” You just sit there, as they all talk, and Gojo is all pouty, like a baby. You peek at your phone now, seeing a text from your shitty ex, your face falls.
“Everything okay?” Maki asks softly, and you sigh, nodding.
“Just the ex.” You whisper back.
“Ex huh?” Satoru has somehow gotten behind you, leaning over, you smack at his hand then, glaring. “What, I wanna know!”
“You’re too fucking much sometimes. Ugh.” You stand up then, slinking past him. “I’m headed to get changed and then I’m leaving. See you all at home?” They all nod, eyeing you and Satoru curiously, you wave at the Doctors then head out.
Ugh, along with Satoru just being… weird and annoying, and your ex? He was a toxic, needy mess. He’d left you because you didn’t have enough time for him, and maybe you really didn’t, how could you have a relationship until your internship was finished? The first week none of you even left the hospital, sleeping in bunk beds and showering there.
But he constantly needed you, made you feel guilty, would fuck with your alarms and everything. Thank God he was long gone, even if he was annoying you currently, you delete his messages, heading to the locker room and hearing steps. You look back curiously to see Satoru holding the door open for you.
“What are you doing?”
“I am sorry, that was rude of me.”
“Yeah, well, what’s new.” You both walk into the locker room now, Satoru’s shrugging off his white lab coat, your cheeks heat up while you slip off your scrub top, it was normal to change in front of everyone, you all had co op locker rooms and showers even, all of you took years of anatomy, the human body was nothing really but parts.
But as you feel his eyes on you, when you’re down to just a black lace bra and a pair of boy shorts, you tense a bit, looking at him, shirtless, his lips parted as he looks at you. “I am sorry I know I annoy you, Miss perfect.”
“I’m no Miss perfect. I guess I have a lot to prove.” You say softly, trying not to drink in his rippling muscles, perfect well defined torso, cuts low where he’s now sliding up a pair of dark blue jeans.
His blue eyes fixate on you as he does, as you’re sliding on a pair of jeans yourself, buttoning them with trembling hands. “I had a lot to prove once too. I do understand.”
“You’re being serious?” You tease, earning a little smile, as he slides a black long sleeve shirt over his head. You get flustered as you realize your nipples are pressed against the cups of your bra, sliding your shirt and then a jacket on yourself, sitting at the bench to slide on your black boots.
“I can be serious sometimes, I just think there’s enough death, sadness, and depression in this career. Why not just try to have some fun? Otherwise, it’ll just consume you.” He says softly, in that husky voice of his, so sexy it alone could wreck someone. But his words…
“That makes sense.” You say softly now, standing as he does, grabbing your purse and locking up your locker, spinning the combination, at the same time he grabs his keys and wallet. “So you try to… brighten up things.”
“Yeah, someone has to.” He walks to you then, tapping your nose once more. “You’re too serious, you’ll have to lighten up, or this career will wreck you.”
You nod then, carefully, realizing perhaps this slutty, silly doctor had a lot more to him, than just being the perfect surgeon. “I’ll take that advice. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, also…” He leans forward as you all are stepping out of the locker room, headed toward the automatic glass doors, and you look at him curiously. “Nice panties.”
“Oh fuck you, Dr. Hojo!” You glare now, shoving at him, as he heads to his mercedes benz, and you’re in your ancient SUV that sounds like a beast.
“Night-night, intern.” He shoots you two fingers, sliding into his fancy car with blacked out windows. You roll your eyes, putting your car in gear.
What a day.
Part Two
#doctor gojo#doctor satoru#doctor au#gojo x reader#satoru x reader#jjk smut#gojo smut#jjk x reader#jujustu kaisen#jjk gojo#gojou satoru x reader#satoru smut#satoru gojo#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo x you#satoru gojo x y/n#current wip#work in progress#story preview#jjk fic#gojo satoru#jujutsu kaisen
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Imagine being a nymph
𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖡼.𖧧𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖧧.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖡼𖧧𖥧𖡼.𖥧𖧧.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧
You exist somewhere in between being older than most living things but young in comparison to the ancient forest you reside in. You laze all day on lush moss and wander through thick meadows in the evening.
You spend most of your time with your fellow nymphs and the Satyrs, who also inhabit the forest. You join the satyrs in their festive orgies, their never ending debauchery and stamina is always entertaining. The satyrs are very close with the nymphs, both being able to keep up with the others insatiable apatites. They often invite you to praise their god in the only way they know how; sex, parties, wine and more sex. No matter what season, weather or time of day the forest is always filled with the pleasured sounds of your shared revelry.
You have your fun luring Human adventurers away from their parties, giving them little glances of your body behind thick trees. Humans also like it when you pretend to not notice them when they "accidentally stumble" across you sitting in your meadow. Either way when you have them to yourself it's always a fun arrangement. They always seem enraptured by you, all you have to do is bat your eyelashes and they come to you like they're locked in a trance. Always so hesitant at first like their dirty mortal hands shouldn't touch something as divine as your skin, you dispel those thoughts very quickly.
Sometimes the nomadic Centaurs travel through the forest, the nymphs and satyrs are always more than happy to welcome them into their home. The centaurs are proud creatures so you have to flirt a little harder than you do with humans or satyrs but traveling for months with no relief is so burdensome and why deny the cute nymph offering exactly the relief you need? When the huge man-beast eventually grumbles some admission of interest you waste no time bending over, hands on the lush forest floor, presenting your ass for the centaur to completely ruin on his massive horse cock.
The occasional traveling Orc camp will pop up now and then, that's always exciting. Orcs are very simple creatures and require little to no coaxing. You can usually just skip into the orc camp and plop yourself down on the nearest burly green hunk. They may be confused at first but a sultry look and a well placed hand will have them grinning from ear to ear, already half chubbed. It's a good idea to try and find the chief or clan leader as they might announce to the whole camp that they've found a useful fuck toy for the night. You might spend the day getting pounded by orc after orc until the late hours of the night. The only trace you'll leave behind for them when they wake is a trail of flowers and a few puddles of cum.
Goblins are similar to orcs but even more insatiable. Walking into a goblin camp in all your beautiful naked nymph glory will get you jumped and fucked within seconds. The small creatures don't care much at all for civility or decorum, they see a pretty thing like you walk into their camp and they're already scrambling and fighting each other for a hole. Not that they have any problems with sharing, during these particular nights there's always multiple goblin cocks being stuffed into all your holes, fitting in as many as they possibly can. They fuck till they drop, literally thrusting into your cum soaked holes till they pass out on the grassy floor.
Elves however, are another story. Elves never lose their composure, always so regal. When they travel through the forest they let the nymphs trail along with them, if only because this is your home they're walking through. You've only fucked elves very few times. The first being a noblewoman who weaved flowers in your soft hair while stealing glances at your naked body. You pleasured her in her tent one night, lapping at her pretty pussy as she gave you quiet but generous praises while gently stroking your hair. There was also the respected guard captain who you caught pleasuring himself by the river, he seemed very grateful for your assistance, fucking you ragged like he hadn't touched another person in centuries.
If you're lucky you may stumble upon the Minotaur that lives in the forest. You and the other nymphs like to play this game where you tease and taunt the Minotaur until he chases one of you down and fucks you into the dirt. It's not clear if getting caught means you win or lose but the other nymphs will sit around you, pet the minatour and coo at you as you get ferociously fucked by the beast until it fills your belly with it's seed. You're almost unconscious when the minatour is done but that won't stop the other nymphs from licking up the monsters cum from your abused hole while trying to coax the Minotaur into another round.
𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖡼.𖧧𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖧧.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖡼𖧧𖥧𖡼.𖥧𖧧.
#posting alot as an apology for being gone haha 😅#well alot for me at least#monster fucker#monster x reader#monster x human#exophelia#monster fucking#monster lover#terato#terat0philliac#minatour x reader#orc x reader#elf#centaur#minatour#gn!reader
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DPxDC When You Are Suddenly Dating a Princess
This prompt is a variation of good!GIW AU (read here), but that's an excuse because I just wanted badass Jasmine Fenton and her good boy Jason Todd.
"Jason?"
The voice catches him off-guard. Not because he doesn't know it, no, quite on the opposite - he knows that voice very well, he's just heard it this morning when his beautiful girlfriend kissed him on the cheek and left for work.
It's just that he didn't expect to hear it at a closed auction full of magic artifacts, two states away from Gotham, and in a room full of rich-ass people from all around the world.
He turns around.
Jazz is looking at him with an expression of pleasant surprise, black off-shoulder silk dress with teal accents draping her figure all the way down to the floor - it's kind of reminiscent of Greek togas, with high waist and lots of folds on the skirt. It also makes his girlfriend look even taller than she is, which, Jason is fairly certain, was intentional.
She is also wearing a necklace on her neck, and just by one look at it, Jason knows that it costs at least five times more than the apartment they live in.
"Jazz?" He breathes out, astonished, but then catches himself and puts on a smile, "You look stunning." This is not the time to argue or ask questions; he is on a mission. And it's a time sensitive one, so no matter how curious he is, it can wait till later. They do live together, after all.
"Thank you," the girl smiles, and then briefly turns her head to a tall man in a very expensive dark blue suit standing beside her, "If you excuse me," she nods with an apologetic smile in the corner of her lips, and the man smiles back and takes a step away. Meanwhile, Jazz approaches Jason and casually places a hand on his elbow.
"Mind telling me what are you doing here?" She questions, and, wait, that was supposed to be his line! Jason blinks and shakes his head, snapping out of his stupor.
He can't exactly say, 'Constantine asked Batman for a favor because he knows the man is rich as fuck, so now Jason has to either buy or steal an ancient dagger for some bullshit magic ritual because he was the only one free tonight and John really needs that dagger and that ritual and Bruce owes him a favor, unfortunately'. Jazz doesn't know he is a vigilante/crime lord in redemption. She might suspect he is - that girl is perceptive on par with mind readers - but Jason never straightforwardly told her, and she never brought it up herself.
So, instead, he goes, "Sightseeing."
Jazz raises one eyebrow and pointedly looks around the dimly lit room full of magic users, rich collectors, socialites, and other shady individuals. Jason keeps smiling. Eventually, the redhead sighs and looks away, taking a step forward and guiding him through the auction at a leisurely pace.
"Looking for anything in particular?" She tries again, and Jason debates if he should answer her. On one hand, his head is buzzing with thousands of questions, starting with 'how did you even make it here when your shift at Arkham ended two hours ago' and finishing with 'to which group of shady individuals do you belong'. On the other hand, she clearly does belong here if her confident posture and outfit are taken into account.
And she is his girlfriend. Has been one for two years now. Maybe it's time to share some secrets.
"An obsidian knife with an owl on the handle," he finally says, and Jazz hums.
"A Tecpatl?" She clarifies, and Jason doesn't even feel that surprised by her sudden knowledge of Aztec culture. He nods. Jazz gives him a thoughtful glance, "And how important is it for you to have it?"
"To the point where I'm prepared to steal it if I have to," he laughs, but judging by the look on Jazz's face, she gets that he is only half-joking. She narrows her eyes at him:
"Is it for you, or for your, um, friends on the orbit?" She asks, briefly glancing up to the ceiling, and Jason feels very confused for a second there.
But then it hits him: she is talking about the Watchtower. She is implying the League.
Jason doesn't hold back a quiet curse, "Damn it, I should have hidden the guns better, shouldn't I?"
Jazz laughs softly, but it's a warm, affectionate laugh, "Well, yes, but you also shouldn't leave bloody bandages in the bathroom. And your helmet on the kitchen counter," she tells him, amusement lacing her voice, and Jason rubs his face with his free hand.
"Fuck," he mutters. And then, "Sorry."
Jazz waves her hand it the air, brushing his apology off, "Don't worry. I'm not in a place to blame you for having secrets, am I?" She muses, and, okay, fair. But before Jason can try to make her elaborate on the topic, she returns to her previous question, "So is it for a friend?"
The knife, right. Jason makes an annoyed face, scrunching his nose.
"Yeah. Bruce owes someone a favor, but he couldn't make it. Other stuff came up," he huffs. 'Other stuff' in question includes some off-world mission, so he really couldn't make it, but that doesn't make Jason any less mad about it.
"Let me guess, that 'someone' smells of cigarettes and liquor, has a British accent, and wears a trench coat," Jazz deadpans, and Jason stares at her with wide eyes.
"How- Are you sure you're not secretly a mind reader?" He asks. He knows for sure that Jazz doesn't have a meta-gene, but maybe she is a magic user? That would explain why and how she is even at the auction. Yet, the redhead laughs.
"No, sorry. Just met him a few times," she winces like she can smell the phantom smell of tobacco even when the mage is not here, "Can't say I like him, but asking someone to fetch him a Tecpatl seems like his style."
That only makes Jason even more inclined to believe his girlfriend is actually a magic user. But he doesn't get to ask because Jazz suddenly looks him in the face.
"Consider yourself in luck, by the way," she grins, "You won't have to steal it."
[part 2 ->]
#danny phantom#dc x dp#dpxdc#anger management#jason todd#jasmine fenton#cork prompts#ficlet#ghost princess jazz#it was starting to get too long so im splitting it in two chapters#maybe three#ill see how it goes
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Reader meows at their partner, their partner decides to FINALLY play along and meow back. Reader gives them a judgmental look and gose "grown ass man" and then leaves them seething. (Veritas, Kaveh, Sunday, Dan heng, Kinich.)
“You're a grown-ass man”
Tags: Ratio x Reader, Kaveh x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Dan Heng x Reader, Kinich x Reader, Humor, Lighthearted Teasing, Playful Interaction, Quirky Conversations, Lighthearted Roleplay, Banter.
A/N: how dare you hurt the pookies?!😕💔

Ratio had been lost in a heap of ancient texts when you meowed at him. His eyes flickered momentarily, then returned to his notes. However, you persisted, meowing once more, tilting your head as if you were trying to catch his attention. After a moment, he set down his book, the faintest smirk curling his lips.
"You’ve got my attention now," he said with a wry grin, leaning back in his chair. "Meow."
You stared at him, eyes narrowing in silent judgment.
"You're a grown-ass man," you quipped, shaking your head with feigned disappointment. Without waiting for his response, you walked away, leaving him seething with embarrassment that even his intellect couldn't resolve.
As the silence of the room settled back in, Ratio muttered under his breath, "I’ll show you… I’ll show you all." His pride, ever so finely honed, would have to settle this matter later, but not today.

You meowed softly, half-joking and half-curious. Kaveh didn’t immediately respond, his mind clearly preoccupied with his blueprints for the next grand design. But after another insistent meow from you, he looked up, blinking in mild surprise.
"I suppose if it’s important to you…" he sighed dramatically, throwing his hands up in mock resignation. "Meow."
You gave him a judgmental glance, one that he knew all too well.
"You're a grown-ass man, Kaveh," you said, your voice light but pointed.
The words stung more than he would admit. Kaveh, ever the perfectionist, stood frozen for a moment, his mind reeling. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He watched you leave, and in that moment, the grand architect of beauty was left questioning his choices with a furrowed brow and a silent, simmering annoyance.
"Unbelievable," he muttered to himself, before returning to his work. His pride would make sure to get even somehow, even if it was just with a sarcastic retort next time.

You meowed at him from across the room, your voice light and playful, but something in it caught Sunday’s attention. His eyes softened for a moment as he processed the unexpected sound.
He blinked, and then, in a rare moment of abandoning his usual reserve, he gave you a small, reluctant smile before offering a soft, almost melodic, "Meow."
You stared at him, eyes narrowing as you crossed your arms.
"You're a grown-ass man, Sunday," you said with a raised brow.
For a second, the smile faded, replaced by a distant look as though your words had struck a deeper chord. Sunday sighed, his wings twitching in mild discomfort, though his face remained calm. His gaze followed you as you walked away, and for the first time, he felt a twinge of something more than just the usual self-reflection.
"Perhaps... I am," he murmured under his breath, lost in thought, a mix of self-awareness and a quiet amusement filling the space as you left.

Dan Heng was leaning against a railing, quietly observing the stars in the distance. He had been contemplating something far beyond the reach of your teasing when you meowed at him. At first, he thought he misheard you, but then, the second meow came, and his eyes shifted toward you in slight confusion.
"...What?" he asked, his tone uncharacteristically soft but puzzled.
You meowed again, this time with a mischievous glint in your eye. He sighed deeply, obviously not used to this playful dynamic. But after a moment of hesitation, he straightened, and with a begrudging look, he muttered, "Meow."
You stared at him, your expression unimpressed.
"You're a grown-ass man." you stated dryly, turning to leave him behind.
Dan Heng, frozen in his position, felt a sudden heat in his cheeks. He scowled at the stars, a small, bitter chuckle escaping his lips. "Unbelievable," he grumbled. A little humiliation wouldn’t be enough to break his stoic composure—but he definitely wasn’t going to let this go. Next time, he’d show you just how stoic he could be.

You meowed at Kinich, catching his attention momentarily as he glanced up from sharpening his knives. His eyes flickered, sizing you up, clearly unimpressed. His lips twitched for the briefest moment before he grunted in annoyance.
"I don’t have time for—" He paused as you meowed again, louder this time.
With a sigh, he put the knife down. "Fine," he muttered, running a hand through his hair, before deadpanning: "Meow."
You stared at him with an exaggerated look of judgment.
"You're a grown-ass man," you quipped, shaking your head.
Kinich froze. His expression soured as he watched you walk away, that slight, reluctant frustration building beneath his usually stoic demeanor. With a resigned sigh, he leaned back in his chair and muttered, "You’re lucky I’m in a good mood today."
Though it wasn’t much of a concession, it was clear to him that next time, he’d let his sarcasm loose.

#x reader#honkai star rail#hsr#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader#ratio x reader#veritas x reader#veritas ratio#kaveh x reader#kinich x reader#kinich x you#kinich x y/n#sunday hsr#hsr sunday#sunday x reader#sunday honkai star rail#humor#lighthearted teasing#playful interaction#quirky conversation#lighthearted roleplay#banter#dan heng x reader#dan heng x you#dan heng x y/n#x you#x y/n#hsr x gender neutral reader#hsr x you#hsr x y/n
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CELESTIAL BODIES | POLY!JEGULUS X READER
as the title says | three fools in love | 7th year | fem reader |



I. The Moon
"I think I'm in love with two people," Regulus announced to his two best friends as he stared the ceiling of his dorm room, sprawled dramatically on his bed. While Barry was resting his head on Evan's thighs, pretending to read a book.
"Finally admitting it, then?" Evan didn't look up from where he was braiding tiny plaits into Barty’s hair. "Only took you half year."
Regulus shot up, side eyeing Evan. "What do you mean 'finally'?"
Barty snorted, abandoning any pretense of reading. "Reg, darling, you're about as subtle as an elephant. The way you look at Potter and Y/N..."
"I do not look at them in any particular way!"
"No? Shall I refresh your memory? You literally walked into a wall last week when we were our way to class, because Potter flew past the window during Quidditch practice," Evan pointed out.
"And you spent three hours in the library yesterday 'studying' while Y/N read poetry," Barty added, using air quotes.
Regulus buried his face in his hands. "It's impossible anyway. They're... they're together."
"And?" Barty raised an eyebrow, exchanging a look with Evan. "We're together, but that doesn't mean we wouldn't be open to—"
"That's different!" Regulus protested. "You two... it makes sense. But me? With both of them? It's complicated enough being a Black who's in love with a Potter, but adding another person..."
"Love's always complicated, petite étoile," Evan said softly, using the nickname that he gave Regulus as a joke during their first year but it stayed up to now. "But that doesn't mean it's impossible."
Regulus looked between his best friends and felt something in his chest. "I just... I want what you have. But I want it with them. Both of them. Is that selfish?"
"No more selfish than wanting the sun and stars," Barty smiled. "Which, coincidentally..."
"Oh, shut up."
But he was smiling now too, even as his heart raced with a new found possibility.
II. The Sun
James Potter had a problem.
Actually, he had two problems, both currently sitting under a tree by the lake – his girlfriend, you, reading poetry to his Quidditch rival (and frequent source of confusing feelings) Regulus Black.
"Prongs, mate," Sirius said from beside him, "you're staring again."
"Am' not," James muttered, definitely staring, as Regulus laughed at something you said. "Just... making sure they're not plotting anything."
"Right. Because my brother, who blushes every time you say his name and your girlfriend, who writes you love notes in Ancient Runes, are definitely plotting against you."
James turned to his best friend, surprised. "Regulus blushes when..."
Sirius groaned. "Merlin's pants, you're both so oblivious. Just go talk to them!"
"But what if—"
"James Potter," Sirius grabbed his shoulders, "my brother looks at you the same way I look at Remus. Trust me, I would like to say some.. a lot of things about this, but s'not the time. Nor the place. I see it in the way he looks at you, at her. In the way she looks at him the same way she looks at you. And you? You've been pining after both of them for months. So please, for the love of my sanity, go talk to them before I hex you."
James blinked. "Oh."
"Yes, 'oh.' Now get your ass up, you absolute moron."
III. The Stars
You weren't blind.
You saw the way James watched Regulus during Quidditch matches, the way Regulus's grey eyes followed James across the Great Hall. You noticed how they both gravitated toward you, how their touches lingered, how they seemed to orbit around each other, despite claiming they cannot stand each other.
It was rather fitting, really. James with his bright energy, lighting up every room he entered. Regulus with his quiet grace, reflecting that light in his own beautiful way. And you, somewhere between them, trying to bridge the gap.
"Your boyfriend's staring again," Regulus murmured, eyes flicking between your book, the black lake and definetly not James.
"Is he now? Must be staring at you I suppose." you replied without missing a beat.
His head snapped up. "I- what?"
You smiled, closing the book before turning to face him. "Oh, come on, Reg. You can't tell me you haven't noticed."
"Noticed what?"
"The way James looks at you. The way you look at him. The way you both look at me. The way I look at the both of you"
Regulus went very still. "I... that's..."
"Complicated?" you suggested. "Maybe. But the best things usually are."
"But you and James..."
"Are very much in love," you agreed. "Just like we're both very much in love with you."
The confession hung in the air between you, as delicate as starlight.
"Oh," Regulus breathed.
And then James was there, dropping down beside you both with his usual grace (or lack thereof). "So," he said, running a hand through his perpetually messy curly hair, "Sirius threatened to hex me if I didn't come talk to you both."
"About?" Regulus asked, voice slightly higher than usual.
James looked between you both, golden in the afternoon sun. His eyes catched yours and you nod reassurning. You two haved talked about this before, and it seems it was finally time to let the cat out of the bag.
"About how... I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you. Well, the both of you. And how that should probably terrify me, but somehow doesn't."
"And maybe…" James continued while grinning, "we should continue this conversation somewhere more private? Like, say, a certain someone's dorm?" as his eyes flicked back to your figure.
"Subtle, Potter," Regulus rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.
"You love it."
"Merlin help me, I do."
Later, tangled together in your satin bed sheets, you three fit perfectly together. James's warmth, Regulus's cool touch and your steady presence between them. Their kisses tasted different. James like sugar quills, Regulus like mint and the rich English black tea he always has in the afternoons, but they go together so beautifully.
"We should have done this ages ago," James murmured against your neck while Regulus kissed patterns across your collarbone.
"Better late than never," you gasped as Regulus nipped at your skin.
"Much better," Regulus agreed, reaching up to tangle his fingers in James's hair.
And really, what were a few months of pining compared to this? The sun, the moon and the stars, finally aligned just right.
© GLAMOURSCAT (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)
#marauders fandom#marauders#jegulus#poly jegulus#jegulus x reader#regulus black#james potter#regulus black x james potter#regulus black x reader#james x regulus#james loves regulus#sunseeker#starchaser#james potter x regulus black#regulus x james x reader#james potter x reader#james potter x you#marauders era#the marauders#dead gay wizards from the 70s#sirius black#evan rosier#barty crouch jr#barty crouch x evan rosier#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter fandom#harry potter fic#james potter fic#james potter fluff#regulus black fluff
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Giggly, fluffy, post deployment sex w/ Simon 🥴🫶 I don't know what possessed me to write this, but it's here I guess
like baaaaarely nsfw but still, mdni💕
"S' - Got the - zoomies." You pant, giggling breathlessly as Simon stills from where he'd been plunging into you, a confused brow raised, prompting you to explain yourself as you lay laughing beneath his massive torso.
"The fuck is a zoomie? S'that like a drug or some shite? Are you on drugs?" Suddenly he's massively concerned, always so worried about everything that could possibly harm you in any way. It also doesn't help that his phone is some ancient brick that's survived countless falls, literal gunfights, and his day-to-day life, which is a miracle in itself.
The perplexed look on his face only serves to make you laugh further, gripping your stomach as you wheeze incoherently, babbling about how he's so old, and that the stone age called. Meanwhile, he gives you a little slap on the ass, just to attempt to regain the reins on the situation and save himself the embarrassment.
"Zoomies are like - like cats!" You heave, still clutching your stomach, unable to stop the way you howl with laughter at your normally stoic boyfriend, blushing like an idiot, burying his face against your clavicle.
"I don't - I'm not going to ask." He sighs in faux disappointment, unable to hide the way his heart warms at seeing your bright smile, hearing you laugh after having been away for so long.
"M'kay." You agree, laugh dying down slightly, leaving you with a tummy ache. "Sorry, carry on."
#cod mw2#tf 141#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#Simon ghost Riley x f!reader#Simon ghost Riley x yn#Simon Riley x reader#simon riley x f!reader#Simon Riley x yn#Simon riley#ghost x reader#ghost x f!reader#ghost x y/n#ghost mw2#simon riley x you#ghost cod#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x y/n#simon riley cod#ghost call of duty#cod#ghost#Simon Riley smut#ghost smut
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I need Danny weirdly being
The infinite Realms version of Persephone
Where Clockwork has managed just like people into believing that his poor favorite son Danny gets taken away 6 months out of the year by Valerie aka the red huntress
And how she even changed phantom's name to Danny up on the surface just like Persephone's name in the underworld is Persephone top of world it's Kore
Clockwork is really out here with you on the fact that he wants his son back and promises not to attack and Danny's over here like we broke up years ago back in high school by ancient stop telling people that
The reason Danny keeps disappearing is because of college so he's absolutely confused in the background
~{…So here me out Male Wife X Girl boss }~
•Phantom or Danny•

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•
Clockwork was drinking some nightshade tea that was a gift from his Ghostling in his clock tower, when he heard the distinctive sound of a outer-world door slamming open in his clock tower shortly followed by the clicking of black heels he was very familiar with at this point.
“FATHER-IN-LAW”
Yelled a very pissed off Valerie Gray who is married to his Ghostling, Who surprisingly was not in her hero get up as she usually is when she comes to visit the realms even when she was with Clockworks ghosting.
“Ah Mrs.Gray what can I help you with?” Clockwork like a good Father-in-Law asked innocently before having one of the ecto-blasters that Valerie always keeps that her hips shoved into his face.
While Clockwork could have easily just destroyed her very existence in every timeline and made it so it would be like she never existed in the first place, but the only unfortunate part of being the Ghostly Father of Danny is that he would remember her and he would hate to make his ghosting cry.
“Don’t try to pull that ‘I don’t know anything about this’ bullshit with me” Valerie hissed out after a moment.
“But I truly do not know what your talking about Mrs.G-” Clockwork almost finished response before he was so rudely interrupted by Valerie who was yelling so much it was a surprise that she hadn’t her voice yet.
“Stop telling people I kidnapped Danny!, I have to keep fighting back other supernaturals who keep trying to kidnap Danny back into the ghost zone while beating off the supernatural hero’s who think I kidnapped my wife!” Valerie snapped much quieter but you could still hear the fire of her rage that the edges of her voice and after a brief pause she continued with
“Now you better stop or I will find a way to kill your ass permanently” and with that she left as soon as she showed up unannounced.
Clockwork just sat in silence for a moment
“I’m a keep doing it”
-•—••••••••••••••••—•-
•Little Things•
•Valerie is the husband and Danny the wife in this and no you can not change my mind :)
•Val only calls Clockwork “Father-In-Law” is because of her respect and love for Danny as her wife
•Danny calls Clockwork “Patér”
•Danny is completely cool with being called Val’s Wife and calling her his husband, if anything he likes it
•Val is sick and tired of supernatural entities/ supernatural hero’s trying to kidnap Danny back to the realms or trying to fight for his hand in marriage, Not that any of that worked but she’s getting real sick of it
~{ Will add on too later if I feel like it }~
-•—••••••••••••••••—•-
•Appearance•
Danny


With a shit ton of black and silver jewelry [+ and pants version!]
Val

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

~{And that’s it! Hope you gremlins like it sorry if it’s worded weirdly I am running on caffeine but this is a very funny idea lol, anyway until next time byeeeeee}~
#dc x dp#that weird thing in the woods#that-weird-thing-in-the-woods#dp x dc#dc x dp crossover#danny phantom#dc x dp prompt#dc x dp fic#dc x dp fanfiction#dcxdp#dp x dc fanfic#dp x dc crossover#dpxdc#dc x dp au#dp x dc prompt#dp x dc au#danny au#danny fenton#dp x dc misunderstandings#dc x dp misunderstandings#misunderstandings#danny x valerie#Valerie X Danny#red huntress#gray ghost
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okay i'm back to expand on toxic situationship simon vs smitten golden retriever könig fighting for ur attention!!!
when simon first met you, he had no intention of interacting with you let alone "dating" you. but it just kind of....happened. you had a way of worming your way into his thoughts and his life.
the problem was that he was not build for a relationship. he had problems. a lot of them. he wasn't the type to work on himself, he was the type to find distractions to cope with the mess that was in his head at all times.
the closer you tried to get to him, the further he pulled away. but then when you backed off, he remembered he needed you as a distraction. so he'd rein you back in only for the cycle to continue.
he ignored how much it hurt you, how sometimes your eyes would swim with tears when he gave you the cold shoulder and told you to leave him alone. it wasn't like you understood what was going on — simon refused to open up and tell you that he was just...fucking messy in the head. instead, he just let you think he was some sleazy douchebag who used you for a quick fuck only to toss to the curb when you annoyed him.
part of him wondered (but didn't care bc it benefited him) why you kept coming back after how much he hurt your feelings. but when he wasn't being an intentional jackass to get you to leave him alone for a week or two, he was a great guy. a gentleman. he spoke to you with a soft but not condescending tone and was patient even when you asked stupid questions. when he had you as his distraction, he enjoyed your company and you enjoyed his — only for him to turn around and spew vitriol out of left field.
it was during one of the times he had chased you off that you met könig. on an elevator of all things. the entire mechanical box shuddered with his weight and you were downright shocked as the hulking mass of him ducked to step in.
when you asked what floor, he spoke with a quiet, almost nervous tone to tell you. as you rode the elevator down, you couldn't help but notice how he sort of shrunk in on himself as if he was trying to take up as little space as possible — as if that was even possible. he was massive. he avoided your gaze in a way that was shy instead of suspicious.
it was kind of...cute.
when you both got off the elevator, the lobby, you took a deep breath and stopped him, asking as confidently as you could if you could have his number. his eyes had widened but he surprisingly didn't say no — jackpot!
tho you couldn't see all of his face — the bottom half of it covered by a mask and his large hood concealing his hair, you felt a bit of an attraction to him.
as you walked out, hastily typing his number into your phone as you parted ways, you realized you may have a thing for masked man since this man — könig, he had said with an accent, and the ass that was simon both wore masks.
in between the time of The Simon Cycle, you went on a couple dates with könig. he was charming and sweet, if not a little shy. he was clumsy and almost always bumped his head on doorways before shamefully rubbing the spot he bumped with a look of embarrassment in his eyes.
he was excitable and energetic. he loved animals and always pointed out whatever animals he saw while walking with you — people walking dogs, cats in windows, ducks floating on ponds.
the more time you spent with him, the more you forgot about simon.
until his name popped up on your phone one evening when you were spending an evening in with könig. it was nothing crazy, he wanted to watch his favorite horror movie with you (an ancient black and white).
könig caught sight of your frown as your phone rang, catching sight of the name 'simon' with a blank picture.
"who is this?" he had asked, tho it wasn't out of jealousy, just pure concern and interest.
you let out a sigh, "i dated him....sort of...? not really..." you had responded, earning a confused look from him.
you explained everything to him, from meeting simon all the through his on and off behavior. by the end könig looked upset on your behalf, shaking his head.
"if he cannot decide if he wants you, then he should leave you alone," he said softly, smiling under his mask with a crinkle of his eyes, "that way someone who knows that they want you can move in!"
that was one thing you liked about könig, he was actually open to communicate his thoughts and feelings with you. he told you were pretty, how he liked your laugh, how much he enjoyed your company and was excited to see you again when you both had time.
simon was closed off. he was quiet, mostly listening rather than talking. but he listened well. you remember mentioning that you broke your lamp and had bought a new one but couldn't figure out how to set it up. a week later, after a nice evening spent in bed together, you woke up to find him sitting on your living room floor putting together that lamp for you.
even though könig was...lovely. there was something about simon that was so intoxicating that you couldn't seem to let it go. but also the sex with simon was....spectacular. you never had a man so eager to make you cum until you were incoherent — never had a man who could.
and könig was....traditional. slow. he wanted to date for a long time before jumping into bed. he wanted to properly court you and go through a whole process. which you respected but...you were impatient. greedy.
it wasn't like könig was against you seeing simon. he had told you that you were free to do what you wished, but unless you made it official with the other man he was not going to back down from trying to court you.
so when simon called on you again a couple nights later, you answered.
he was glaring when he opened the door for you, motioning for you to enter before shutting and locking the door.
"why didn't you answer?" he grilled. clearly you ignoring his call when you were with könig annoyed him more than you thought.
you raised an eyebrow before slowly answering, "i was on a date, simon."
that seemed to make him freeze where he stood, eyes narrowing even more into a glare.
"a date?" he spat, "with who? you don't need to go on any dates, you're with me."
that made you roll your eyes so hard it nearly gave you a headache, "a nice guy named könig. simon, i'm not even sure you like me beyond wanting sex. i want a boyfriend." you huffed, "and clearly you don't want that!"
"oh yeah? then why are you here instead of with your boyfriend?" he hissed the last word in disgust.
"we're not official. he hasn't asked but we've been...seeing each other." you decided simply.
at that, simon jerked his mask over his mouth to kiss you in that heated way that made your legs tremble, "does he fuck you as good as i do? hm?"
that got your attention, a sly smile coming to your lips as he worked you out of your clothes.
he was jealous. this revelation was exhilarating to you. simon, the guy who acted like he couldn't care less about you, was actually jealous that you were seeing another guy!
the sex that night was as phenomenal as usual and more. he spent a good half of it with his head between your thighs, pinning you down with strength alone as he ate you to orgasm after orgasm until your cum was a sticky, stringy mess on his lips and chin.
then he worked you to two more orgasms on his cock, the last one he hadn't even needed to touch your clit before you were creaming around him with a sweet little squeal.
simon had a point to prove. you were his and he was not going to lose you to some asshole. deep down, he knew he didn't deserve you and that he should let the better man have you but he just couldn't. he needed you. he wanted you. he was selfish and greedy.
simon disappeared after that. but for once had actually communicated what was going on — deployment, he said. didn't know how long he would be gone. he had actually gave you a goodbye kiss that left you spinning.
the next time you saw simon, you were on a date with könig. it was a quaint little bar that könig said he liked. so there you were, sitting across from him at a booth, nursing a drink and softly talking with one another.
you didn't even know simon was back. he hadn't said anything. when he walked into the bar, his eyes scanned the place like they always did before landing on you.
his gaze lit up as he took a step towards you but quickly halted when he saw you were sitting across from another man. but that didn't stop him for long.
you cursed under your breath, catching könig's attention before simon was right there at the end of the table, glaring at könig.
"can we help you...?" könig asked softly, clearly a little nervous.
"hi...simon..." you sighed softly. könig straightened up in his seat at that.
"official yet?" he asked you, ignoring your greeting.
you gritted your teeth, casting a glance towards könig who looked confused.
"no." you answered simply.
with that simon, yanked a chair from a nearby table and sat right at the end of your table. you concealed a groan of despair.
simons glare fixed upon könig, a challenge clear in his stare alone. he reached forward and grabbed your drink from your hand despite your protest, lifting his mask enough to take a sip, the cocky smirk visible briefly on his lips.
könig quickly understood what was going on and his own eyes narrowed into a glare. you could practically see the sparks going off between them and buried your face in your hands.
it was going to be....a painfully long night, you feared.
#simon ghost riley x reader#könig x reader#konig x reader#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley smut#simon riley smut#ghost smut#cod smut#könig smut#konig smut#cod x reader
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The first (and last if he likes living) time Scarecrow went to Fawcett was because he heard about all the magic and ancient stuff that you can find there.
He needed to improve his fear toxin with elements that Batman would hardly identify, and, by the time he finds out it something magical or ancient, or by the time he involves Captain Marvel (if he does) on this, ¾ of the City would be on caos.
So he bought a ticket bus to Philadelphia, then another to Fawcett, where he began to look around the center of the city, where he found things, some of them legal, other than he’s 100% sure doesn’t exist anymore.
“And do you have something that can make a grown ass man scare the shit out of him?” He asked to the old lady who was selling venoms.
“Hmm… I think I have Boggart venom somewhere.” She said, looking into the boxes she had down the table. “Give me a second, I have to go down there to look properly.”
“Sure, no problem.” And the lady did in fact get into the box. “What the…?”
“You know we don’t curse here, right?” Said someone behind him. He knows that voice from all that commercial to report magic activity to the Justice League (to anyone but Constantine).
And from all that kind of videos he usually saw about him.
“Those are not family friendly words. Why don’t you try something like -Holy Moly- or -Great Heavens!-?” Captain Marvel asked while standing “at his level” (just Ms. Marvel and Wonder Woman are the same height as him).
“Captain Marvel” Crane growld.
“Scarecrow,” he responded. “Batman said you escape from Gotham. What do you want in Fawcett?” He asked politely, while two of his siblings, Bolt and Voltage, appeared from nowhere behind Marvel, pushing away the crowd.
“None of your business” he growled, letting his pheromones run free, trying to intimidate the biggest omega. “Now, why don’t you let me finish my things here before I make that beautiful face cry, and not in a sexy way.”
Silence.
“What?” Marvel asked with his eyes full of confusion.
“What you heard, honey, why don’t you be a good boy and let me get away with this?”
“Uuuuuh” the crowd said, while whispering between them.
“What?” He asked.
“You better run now that you can.”
“Why would-?” He didn’t finish his question, because Voltage’s hand was already in his neck, putting so much pressure on it.
“You have ten seconds to beg for your life.” He said, using his alpha voice, with his eyes glowing and lighting all around his body.
“And there’s only three seconds left.” Bolt growls, using her voice while brandishing a sword that definitely hasn’t to be there.
“Hey! Stop!” Marvel scream.
“If you don’t stop at this very second, I’m gonna call your mother.” Said someone on the top of the nearest building, making both Voltage and Bolt stop their murdered attempt.
“Ugh- Batman.” Voltage growled. “But he-”
“I don’t care.” He responded, interrupting Voltage, making the man let go Crane.
“That’s unfair” Bolt said, disappearing the sword.
“I also don’t care.” And he left, carrying Jonathan Crane on his shoulders back to the Batplane.
14 y/o Billy never knew what Crane was doing in Fawcett.
Rosa saw the videos and, despite the League’s insistence, she didn’t ground Freddy or Darla. On the contrary, they had a party at their house.
Teth Adam was there. He gave both Freddy and Darla a magic sword as a reward for protecting his brother.
None villian try that ever again.
Second part of my Billy Omega hc
#dc comics#shazam#batman#billy batson#captain marvel#dc universe#justice league#adopted billy batson#dc captain marvel#shazamily#freddy freeman#darla dudley#trust that batman will be questioning captian marvel about this#rosa vasquez#the vázquez are billy’s family here#billy batson is an omega#omegaverse#my hcs#hc#fawcett city#fawcett comics#scarecrow#gotham#Uncle Black Adam
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I wanna draw him reading this but I can't draw any cei wolves💔💔💔 "Poop..man? What did I ever do to them? Huh? This- This reads like a toddler wrote it." Somewhere in there he says he'll never understand this new age tech LMFAO
wolfman haha. More like poop man
#my old ass coquette princess💔💔#he's not mad just mildly confused#I love his crusty ancient boomer brain#pure ahh grandpa💔💔💔💔💔#rock afire explosion#rockafire explosion#showbiz pizza#rockafire#the rock afire explosion#the rockafire explosion#rolfe dewolfe#the wolfman#wolf pack 5#wp5#wp5 wolfman#showbiz pizza place
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just read “his lady love” and i’m completely obsessed with your writing, i definitely need a part 2 for that please 😭😭😭
His Lady Love (2)

pairing | aemond targaryen x vampire!mikaelson!reader
word count | 3.8k words
summary | you return to westeros, to find that the young prince has become a man and his burning infatuation with you has not died out and you reconnect with helaena
tags | no warnings? usual mention of targaryen incest (but let's be real, everyone who reads hotd fanfic has now normalised targcest), and child marriage (my poor bby Helaena), filler
note | oh my god, y'all 😭. idk what I was thinking with that dramatic ass mikaelson reveal. as we all know the reader is never described, but as we all also know the mikaelsons are white af. so I'm making it clear that the reader is NOT mikael's daughter, leaving the reader's description and race unknown, esther was busy getting her freak on and her real father will never be disclosed. because in my mind the reader or y/n is and will always be a curly-haired, brown-skinned baddie....so each to their own. AND I'm pretty sure this is going to be a series cause for the life of me I am unable to make a oneshot without further exploring a story.
likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated ✨
𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 — 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫
Five long years had stretched into nearly two thousand sunrises since Aemond Targaryen last laid eyes upon you. Each passing day weighed heavily on his soul, a slow burn of a thousand bitter memories. Some days, the tempest of his emotions roiled within him, bidding him to hate you—for your departure, for the way you had vanished from court like a wisp of smoke, leaving only echoes and shadows in your wake.
But the flames of that hate flickered and faded, giving rise to a deeper yearning, a gaping void where love had once flourished. Even now, after all this time, your spirit held his heart captive, stolen under the very nose of fate when you chose to forsake the realm.
In the wake of your absence, thirteen year old Aemond had become a specter haunting the hallowed halls of the library, pouring over tomes and scrolls in a frantic quest for knowledge of House Mikaelson—a house that seemed to dissolve into the mists of myth with each turn of the page. The histories were silent, and when he turned to his elders, the lords and ladies of the court, their ignorance stung deeper than any sword. Your name was but a whisper lost amongst the louder clamor of dragons and destinies.
Desperation guided his steps toward the Queen’s solar, where his mother resided. He pressed forth, demanding answers of her, yet it was peculiar; though he sought her wisdom and guidance, she seemed to have forgotten the very reason of why she had made you one of her ladies-in-waiting. Her brows knitted with confusion as he spoke your name, her big brown eyes clouded with a nostalgia she could not place.
Yet Aemond could see it in the gentle curve of her lips, in the way her gaze drifted past him, as if searching for a phantom. She missed you, that was clear. Her heart held a chamber of memories crafted from your offered comfort amidst the whispers of court intrigue, from the grace of your presence that had brightened the darker days.
The weight of five relentless years bore heavily upon Aemond Targaryen. Through trials of fire and blood, he had forged himself anew, emerging both mentally and physically formidable. He was now the most skilled swordsman within the keep’s sturdy walls, a warrior of such caliber that even the esteemed Ser Criston Cole would struggle to match his prowess. Secluded in the dim light of solitary training grounds, he immersed himself in the ancient tomes of philosophy and the illustrious history of House Targaryen, dedicated to honing his mind as keenly as his sword.
Yet in this relentless pursuit of strength and mastery, the warmth of his heart had withered, leaving behind only the chill of calculated ambition. His facade, meticulously crafted, rendered him cold and unyielding — a visage so fierce that even the bravest souls flinched at the thought of meeting his gaze directly.
Thus, it was with a jarring dissonance that Aemond entered his sister, Helaena's solar that day. It was a ritual he had come to cherish against the backdrop of his darkening spirit, visiting her and the twins for a fleeting moment of respite. However, as he stepped across the threshold, the air thickened and his breath caught in his throat.
Helaena sat with delicate artistry upon a chaise, embroidering threads of vibrant colors while keeping a watchful eye on her children. But it was not the familiar sight of his sister that seized him. No, there, in the heart of the chamber, stood his mother, Queen Alicent, holding the hands of a woman whose features were obscured from his view. However, even with your back turned, he recognized you and your unmistakable figure.
Alicent’s large, expressive eyes caught his, shimmering with an emotion he had not anticipated. “Aemond,” she uttered softly, the sound piercing through the tension-laden silence.
With the calling of his name, you turned, and the breath in his lungs faltered. The years stretched out like an endless tapestry between the two of you, but as he beheld you standing there after all this time, it felt as if no time had passed at all.
Five long years had passed, and in that span, Aemond had transformed. His once-boyish frame had hardened, each line of muscle now finely chiseled, his stature soaring to a height that eclipsed yours. He had shed the skin of youth and emerged a man forged by the fires of ambition and vengeance, yet he could feel a familiar tug at his heart as he stared at you.
But you… you had remained untouched by time’s relentless march. Your face, flawless and luminous, bore no marks of age; not a wrinkle nor blemish dared mar your smooth skin. Your form he remembered was preserved in perfection, your hair framing your figure in the same glorious waves that had enchanted him years ago.
You were the embodiment of memories he cherished, the same as ever.
For a fleeting heartbeat, Aemond dared to believe you were but a haunting mirage conjured by his yearning heart. If not for the watchful eyes of his mother and sister resting upon you, he would have thought himself lost to despair, ensnared by the fantasies of his own making.
An eternity seemed to stretch in the daunting silence that enveloped the two of you, the world around forgotten as each of you engaged in a quiet, yet profound examination. Your eyes sparkled like the night sky in the light of the day, and when you smiled—the same saccharine smile that had once filled his heart with joy during the innocence of his childhood—it left him breathless. “My prince,” you spoke softly, your voice dancing in the air, “how you’ve grown.”
In that moment, something within him shifted—a profound balm against the bitterness he had nurtured like a dark plant within his chest. All the resentment, the stinging remembrance of your abandonment, and the shadows of sadness that once clouded his thoughts dissipated at the mere sight of your smile. His throat was dry as a winter's night, thoughts scattered like ash on the wind, and yet, the corners of his mouth began to lift involuntarily, mirroring the warmth radiating from you.
Mikaelson.
A name that struck terror into the hearts of countless souls. Yet, here, in this strange realm of Westeros, where dragons soared and the icy dread of White Walkers loomed behind the walls, such fear was but a whisper lost to the winds. No, this land, though foreign and fierce, offered you sanctuary—not the kind woven from solace and warmth, but the kind fortified by distance and the absence of your cursed siblings.
Here, there were no vampires lurking in the cloaks of night, nor were there werewolves howling beneath the pale moonlight. Instead, there were dragons, fierce and resplendent, and direwolves, proud and wild. Most crucially, there was no Mikael—a freedom that tasted of hope amidst you heart's turmoil.
True, you thought often on whether you should have brought your siblings along, for Mikael would never find this place. Yet, a heavy foreboding gripped you; you understood all too well that the Mikaelsons (Niklaus) very presence would shatter the fragile peace you sought. Westeros was far from a land of plenty, riddled with poverty and further burdened by the cruel fate of women, yet in its chaos lay distance.
So, you fled, slipping away into the shrouded embrace of night, abandoning the only family you had known—or, more accurately, what was left of it. It was the sixteenth century, a time when hope flickered dimly in the eyes of men and women alike. You had not laid eyes upon Finn since Niklaus, in his relentless wrath, had condemned him to a tormented existence, and staked a dagger in his heart. Kol fared no better; his defiance had earned him Niklaus' ire, leaving him to face the very same fate that had befallen their eldest brother.
Months had slipped by as you braved the tempestuous seas, each wave an echo of your desperation, each gust of wind whispering promises of a new beginning. You had set sail toward the edge of the earth, guided by an insatiable yearning for freedom—until at last, you had discovered Westeros.
You had arrived in Westeros with an unyielding ambition, your ethereal beauty concealing a fierce determination that allowed you to easily compel your way into the court of Queen Alicent Hightower as one of her ladies-in-waiting. The smell of dragonfire and the whispers of civil war clung to the air, a distinct reminder of the foreign heritage of the Targaryens.
The first time you had seen one of the great beasts aloft, its shadow sweeping across the land, leaving you breathless and in awe. Dragons were an embodiment of the Targaryen power, but alongside that power lurked a shocking underbelly of normalized incestuous unions and the festering decay of traditional familial bonds. For a girl raised among the Mikaelsons, who had danced among the vices of immortality, this was both familiar and grotesque.
Your new world was laced with intrigue—rumors skittered through the halls like restless spirits. The whispers spoke of Princess Rhaenyra and the seed of doubt surrounding her claim to the Iron Throne, the barbs of scandal raised even higher by her many alleged bastards. These complexities intrigued you, compelling you to observe from the outside, where the machinations of power were far more amusing than any political play you had encountered in your old life.
Queen Alicent, though esteemed and regal, bore the weight of her flaws almost indiscernibly, like a cloak of gold marred by rust. From what you could tell, the Queen wielded herself like a pawn—her father being Otto Hightower, an unseen puppeteer, tugging at the strings of her choices. Maternal instinct flickered in Alicent like the candle flames that lit the chamber at night; she faltered and stumbled but made an earnest effort to nurture her children as best she could, though in your opinion she had failed miserably with Aegon. And yet, her fund of effort, a raw and poignant endeavor, resonated with you. The Queen was imperfect, yet within that human frailty lay a semblance of motherhood that Esther Mikaelson had failed to give you.
Thus, in your role as one of the Queen’s ladies-in-waiting, you discovered a sanctuary of sorts. The court became a twisted labyrinth of alliances and betrayals, yet amidst the swirling intrigue, you found comfort in Alicent’s earnest attempts at kindness towards you.
In the two years you had spent in Westeros, you had found solace in the delicate friendship you created with Princess Helaena—a rare gem among the Targaryens, whose sweet and gentle spirit seemed devoid of the cunning that defined her kin. Helaena's quiet understanding struck a chord deep within you, reminiscent of a time before death had twisted your mind. Once, you too had lived in a world that felt like a dream, until Niklaus tore down the veil of your innocence with his ruthless reality check. He had carved fear into your heart, reminding you of the darkness that lurked within the world.
But as you observed Helaena, an overwhelming sorrow enveloped you. The Queen's decree to betroth the princess to Prince Aegon sank like a stone in her gut. Aegon—a broken soul, defined by indulgence and ambition—was a force of chaos that echoed the wickedness of their own familial bond. In many ways, he reminded you of Kol, with his infectious charm and volatile spirit, yet where Kol harbored a flicker of love beneath layers of darkness, Aegon radiated a depravity that sent shivers down your spine.
Your heart ached at the thought of Helaena being shackled to a boy so unworthy of her light. The specter of Aegon’s reckless nature loomed large, and you feared for the princess's fate. You could see it clearly: with every passing day of their union, Helaena’s spirit would wither under the weight of neglect and cruelty, her gentle soul extinguished in the fires of a loveless bond.
And then there was Prince Aemond, the second youngest son of Alicent's brood—a striking boy marked by a fierce determination to embrace his responsibilities as a prince. You often felt a pang of sympathy when you witnessed the relentless taunts from Aegon and the scornful jeers of his nephews, sorrow swelling in your chest at the knowledge that he was the only Targaryen without a dragon to call his own. And it was hard to ignore the tender glances he cast your way, his violet eyes lingering on you whenever you graced a room.
However, nothing could have prepared you for the sight of Aemond standing at your door during the elusive hour of the wolf, his ethereal silver hair, tousled and framing a face streaked with tears, the light of hope dimmed in his now singular violet eye. Fury ignited in your core when he confided the harrowing tale of how Aegon had dragged him to the Street of Silk, that dark sanctuary of vice—your heart shattered for the innocence that had been ripped from him, for the heavy shame that now clung to him, marked by his brother who should have looked out and protected him. By now, Aegon was six-and-ten, he should have gleaned wisdom from his years, yet he chose the path of cruelty instead.
In an effort to soothe the wounded prince, you opened your heart and your arms to him. You conceded to his requests, bathing him with tender care, allowing him the sanctuary of your presence as he lay beside you. Your intentions were pure, untainted by anything but the desire to comfort a boy you had come to deeply care for.
And yet, with a heavy heart, you turned your back on Westeros, your mind haunted by the echoes of family. In that fleeting moment of vulnerability, you found yourself yearning for the bonds that had once defined you. The Targaryens, ensnared in their web of resentment and betrayal, made it clear that true loyalty and love were rare treasures. Their familial discord stood in stark contrast to the fierce devotion of your own bloodline. For all the chaos wrought by the Mikaelsons, love remained their unyielding anchor.
Niklaus, with his volatile nature, was both feared and revered by you; yet, beneath that fierce exterior lay a soul tormented by the shadows of his past, perpetually haunted by the specter of abandonment. Finn and Kol, locked in eternal slumber by Niklaus’s cruel whim, lay undisputed in their coffins, yet your brother stood sentinel over them, unwavering and steadfast. The thought of returning to him was chilling; the mere sight of you would surely earn a dagger in your own heart.
You resolved to escape, to steal away before Queen Alicent could impose a husband upon you like a gilded cage. It was meant to be a brief respite, a momentary retreat from your burdens. You had once believed that seamlessly integrating into the intricate tapestry of Westerosi society would be a simple endeavor. Yet, the relentless weight of expectations proved stifling. Each encounter demanded a dance of delicate grace, a façade meticulously curated to meet the desires of those around you, and in turn, it drained your very spirit.
Thus, you sought solace in the sun-drenched lands of Essos, a realm that defied the rigid conventions you had grown weary of. Essos was a land of vibrant colors and broken norms, where the sun shone unabated and the very air seemed to sing of possibility. Gone were the burdens of being gracious and demure, replacing those restraints with the intoxicating freedom to explore the wild tapestry of cultures sprawled before you. In a realm filled with mercenaries and traders, where the scent of spice mingled with the salty sea air, you couldn’t help but feel invigorated.
Shame washed over you like a cold wave, a sharp pang of regret settling in your chest as you sat in Princess Helaena's solar, surrounded by the laughter of her twins, Jahaerys and Jahaera. The children, mere five summers old, served as a vivid reminder of your absence; Helaena had brought them into the world at the tender age of fourteen, while you had been lost in the allure of Essos. Your own selfish pursuits had drawn you away from Westeros, leaving your dear friend to navigate the tides of motherhood without your companionship.
But now, fate had drawn you back to Westeros, though the reason for your return eluded you—perhaps it was mere curiosity, or a desire to witness the Targaryens as they embarked on a path toward their own ruin. Perhaps it was simply the lingering comfort of a maternal embrace that Queen Alicent had once offered you. One thing remained certain: you were back, unchanged yet bound by the curse that clung to the Mikaelsons. You still appeared as you had, forever encased at the tender age of six and ten, the same age at which you had died nearly six centuries ago.
The twins were a study in contrast. Jaehaerys, the young prince, was somber and introspective, casting shy glances your way from beneath the curtain of his silver hair. In contrast, Jaehaera exuded a lively spirit, her laughter as bright as the morning sun. She was a sweet girl, eager for your attention, her small hands clutching her beloved dolls as she beckoned you to join her in playful realms of castles and grand adventures. Every so often, Jaehaerys would join in, indulging his sister’s imagination by taking on the role of a fierce dragon, albeit with a reluctance that made his quiet demeanor all the more endearing.
“I have missed you,” Helaena said softly from her place on the chaise, delicate fingers working through the intricate patterns of her embroidery, her gaze never leaving the fabric.
You met her gaze, a frown momentarily shadowing your features, your heart tightening at the sight of her. A small, bittersweet smile tugged at your lips as you replied, "As I have missed you, princess. I offer my sincerest apologies for my prolonged absence."
“But you have returned, and that is what matters,” she replied with a tranquil certainty, her expression unwavering.
With a nod, you maintained your tight-lipped smile, the corners of your mouth struggling to lift fully. “Indeed, I have, and I hope to stay here for as long as fate allows.”
As you resumed your playful moments with the twins — Helaena’s voice broke through the lighthearted chaos as she called your name. “Pray tell, how old were you when you came to court?”
Your lips pursed gently as you recounted, your tone tense but soft, “I was but six and ten years, my dear princess.”
An oblivious smile spread across Helaena's face, illuminating her features. “And yet you appear unchanged, as if untouched by time’s passage. Like a Lepidoptera,” she remarked, her imagination weaving images as vivid as the embroidered fabrics around her.
Your brows knitted in puzzlement. "A what, my princess?"
"A Lepidoptera," she patiently repeated, her eyes shimmering with youthful curiosity. "It is a classification that encompasses butterflies, which remain breathtakingly lovely until the end of their days."
A bittersweet pang echoed within you at her words, for you were destined for a far different fate, cursed to wander the shadows as a creature of the night. Yet, you offered a slight nod, managing a soft, "Thank you, my princess," as you absorbed the weight of her innocent compliment.
“And yet, I cannot claim to have missed you as intensely as Aemond has,” Helaena mused, her gaze distant as you idly threaded your fingers through Jaehaera's shimmering locks of silver.
“I’m afraid I don’t quite grasp what you mean,” you replied softly, masking your understanding with a facade of innocence.
“I believe you are quite aware,” Helaena said softly, a melodic note in her voice, her smile lingering with a teasing warmth, “Aemond has loved you since he was a mere boy.”
You cast her a sidelong glance before adopting an air of nonchalance. “Love is a weighty term for one so young, Princess. Surely, it was nothing more than a fleeting fancy.”
Helaena shook her head, her needlework a steady rhythm in her hands. “No, I do not believe so.”
Deep down, you didn't believe so either. Ever since your return to the depressive halls of King's Landing, a sensation had accompanied your every step—a watchful gaze lingering upon you. Aemond had worked to keep it hidden, but your heightened senses revealed the quiet intensity of his interest, as vivid as the summer sun.
There had been numerous revelations awaiting you upon your return to the Red Keep—the prideful births of young Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, the scandal of Rhaenyra and her uncle Daemon's elopement, and the grim decline of King Viserys's health, shadows stained upon the Iron Throne. Yet, the most haunting transformation was that of Prince Aemond.
Aegon had blossomed into the drunken sleaze you had always anticipated, a replica of the whims that dictated his every choice, but Aemond—oh, how he was the exact opposite of what you had envisioned. The youthful boy, once soft and unassuming, had unfurled into a striking figure, sharpened like the blade of a Targaryen sword, each line of his form etched with the harshness of time and expectation. His stature now towered over you, his presence immense, a tempest contained within the boundaries of a man’s body.
He seemed to carry within him a quiet fury, a storm beneath the surface, and it stirred something deep within you, a memory of that boy who had once been desperate for approval and had hope for a dragon. His boyish softness had been replaced by the resolute presence of a true dragon, a stark reminder of the power and peril that resided within his bloodline.
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