#outsider looking in drabble

[alicemitch09writes]

can i ask more about sunayn facts? more so, about suna and his feelings all throughout hs to their reunion. i love them both SO MUCHHHH

more than anything, suna felt really intimidated by reader's presence. not just because she was smart and all, but because of how much she was slowly growing on him. 'twas why he's protective of her and quick to join osamu for lunch.

as mentioned in the fic (i forgot huhu) suna swore to himself never to make a move on reader, because he did not want to take advantage of her considering the state that she was in.

so as much as he can, he was by her side. it was enough for him to be her friend, seeing as she needed it the most.

however, he will not lie and say that it kills him to have the person he wants the most but hold himself back because she doesn't need romance in her life right now.

right after punching atsumu, reader was a bit disappointed with him. suna's words to her, when she heard about it was, 'i'm not sorry'. it killed him to see her disappointed, but it killed him even more when she shook it off and treated his hand. since then, he's tried his hardest not to make her angry at him. he just couldn't bear it.

reader would nag him at times, especially during lunch when suna wasn't eating properly and would offer her share. it was really embarrassing on suna's part. so he tries to eat healthier, just to appease her, and because he'll break and osamu would definitely know that he's crushed on his best friend.

(osamu's always known, ever since he joined them for lunch)

when atsumu tried to make amends with reader, suna was the second to get apprehensive about it (osamu, being the first). this explains his animosity towards atsumu before his grand speech and before reader walked in the gym.

for reader's sake, he acted civil towards atsumu. sure, he'd antagonize him however he can, for good show. but deep inside, he HATED atsumu, for the way he hurt reader and made fun of her feelings.

as much as he could hate atsumu, he was also quite thankful to see reader's shell slowly crack thanks to the setter. with this, suna remembers where he stands.

when they reunited again, suna was pleasantly surprised by just how vibrant reader's become.

with that, he returned to his high school state of being protective over her in his suna way. komori would tease him, saying he's acting like a boyfriend, unaware that suna froze at that.

washio subtly gave him advice that reader seems happier now and suna should take the chance to be the reason she's happier now. heck, even their manager - murase-san, was all 'you two would look cute together!'.

while the team is from a paper manufacturing company, they have several sponsors. one of them, of which, is a supporter/fan of suna. so when he found out that suna and reader finally got together, he gifted him a car. to say suna was shocked was understatement, but the old man said he knows what it's like to be in love yadda yadda spiel and just wanted to support his favorite middle blocker.

when they finally dated, their relationship was kept private. because in japan, dating your coworkers would raise suspicion. however, the two keep it very professional. thankfully, everyone supports the two.

suna's hand position became a sort of trademark that kids would approach him, and mimic him. at times, they would approach reader.

if ever fans - especially the younger ones, would want to see suna, they first search for reader. this continues until the two are in the olympics team.

that's all it got. hehehe

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAu Drabble - Shopping

I am back at it again because I had ideas. (don't worry friend @spotaus things are being planned and I got many many ideas :3 but before those happen stuff needs to be established and put in place!)

I was debating between like four different drabble ideas but settled on this one. Something calming for a bit :)

First Drabble Prev Drabble Next Drabble

as always. No editing and no beta.

*-------------------*

Dust shoots Killer another glare as he holds Nightmare clsoer "I mean it Killer. get out of my blindspot. It is getting annoying."

Nightmare looks from Dust to Killer and sees the large grin on Killer's face as he skips after Dust and Nightmare "Nah. I think it is good i am here because it is your blindspot!"

Dust grumbles as he holds Nightmare clsoer. Nightmare just pushes his skull under Dust's chin as he listens to the two bicker. Dust gives him a quick nuzzle before shooting Killer another glare "Why are you even here?" Killer still has a large grin on his face "I am backup!"

Dust groans "I am getting Nightmare clothes."

Killer nods as he follows them "backup!"

Dust huffs before looking back at Nightmare. Nightmare sees the glare disappear from his face as Dust lets out a sigh before smiling at Nightmare "makes you start to wonder who helped who out of getting stuck in a wall."

Killer gasps loudly "That only happened a few times!"

Ngihtmare grins and laughs as he leans fully against Dust again. He likes being held by Dust and Dust must like it too because he always holds him.

Nightmare figured it was because his spine is fragile and walking for too long starts to bother him but Dust still just holds him. always. Maybe he also likes being close like this?

Thoguht Nightmare isn't sure what Dust gets out of it but he must really like something abut the close contact.

They walk past another few people who look at them. Nightmare shoots a glance as Dust and Killer continue to bicker. They seem to shoot Dust and him worried looks but chuckle once they realise that Dust and Killer are just doing their way of bonding.

Nightmare always thought the flirting between those two was weird but then again he thought most things dating was weird. Maybe because he was still a child in his soul...

Not that it matters.

Nightmare shoots a glance and spots Killer grinning widely as his soul is clearly in soulshape and looks stable. Dust may have an annoyed look on his face but he has a tiny smile on his face.

Nightmare hides his face in Dust's sweater but he can't hide the purr. He wants them to be happy. They are happy even with him near.

Dust notices of course nad gives him another nuzzle "comfy? Spine okay?"

Nightmare nods "Yeah."

Dust hums to signal he heard him but still rubs his back.

They finally stop near one of the smaller houses which is the clothing shop for this town.

Dust tilts his skull as Killer snorts "oh that is adorable. ready to dress Nightmare as a tiny old man?" he grins

Dust shoots Killer a glare "It isn't that bad..." then he looks at the store "just... a bit old fashioned..." he looks at him "That okay?"

Nightmare nods before shrugging "I don't get why i need new things..."

Dust sighs. Killer leans on Dust's other shoulder and shoots him a wink "Because you are still wearing Dust's things. and quite honestly. Dusty does not have a large enough wardrobe to dress both of you."

Nightmare frowns as he pushes clsoer to Dust. He doesn't mind wearing stuff them them. It are things that are well worn and soft and smell of them and old laundry detergent.

Dust nuzzles his skull "It will be nice. You can check what you like and what feels nice and is comfortable."

Nightmare frowns "it is expensive." which is another reason why he doesn't want to get anything.

Dust frowns and Killer quickly answers "That is a worry for us. And Dusty said it is fine so it is fine." he grins.

Dust nods "made some money. more than enough to get you some things."

Nightmare wants to disagree more but Dust walks into the store.

The inside isn't like he thought it would be. there is actually quite a number of nice looking things and looks more modern than you would think from the outside.

DUst makes a pleased sound before smiling smugly "Seems like they were just showing off the knitwear because it is autumn." he shoots Killer a look "Almost as if i did my research and knew it would be okay here." and he walks further into the store.

Killer sputters before following them "I know that Dusty! You always do that! I was just joking around!" he pouts but doesn't offer anything. Really just a shadow. It reminds Nightmare a bit about how it was before. Killer beign his right hand and always by his side to help and protect him. It still feels different now and even when thinking back to those memories they feel different.

Killer spots him looking at him and grins before wriggling his phalanges in a tiny wave at him. Nightmare huffs and pushes back closer to Dust.

Dust is looking through some clothes on the hanger "Stop bothering Nightmare." he pulls something off and looks it over critically. he holds it up for him to inspect and Nightmare just shrugs.

Killer pouts as he crosses his arms "Just having fun. And tiny boss is fine with it!" he grins at him "Right nighty?"

Nightmare shrugs. he doens't mind. it is nice.

Dust rolls his eye lights and doesn't look at Killer "Even if he is fine with is safe it for later. first buying clothes. Then you can tire him out."

Nightmare huffs and grumbles. he doesn't need tiring out. he is perfectly fine. Dust holds up another sweater and he shrugs again.

"Oh hello there dears! Can you find it all?"

Killer nad Dust turn and Nightmare feels Dust freeze for a moment. Yeah not a surprise because the woman looks a lot like Toriel. But Nightmare doubts it is the her of this universe. The closer he looks the more this woman seems like a sheep monster.

Killer and Dust must see it too as Killer grins "Pretty much! but we got it!"

Dust shoots him a look "Killer knock it off." he looks at the lady "We are looking for stuff for the little guy."

The lady smiles sweetly "Oh! You two must be two of Sans- I am sorry, Crop's friends!" she looks them over and her gaze lingers on Dust for a moment before settling on Nightmare. Nightmare can't stop the instinct of holding on tighter to Dust. He doesn't like having stranger's gazes on him.

The smiles sweetly "I can see the resemblance! You must be very proud of such a young handsome little boy!"

Dust looks to the side and shrugs but his hold on him tightens. Killer snorts, which is fair as they aren't actually related. Maybe she just sees the resemblance before Nightmare now looks much more like a tiny swap sans, as that was the original form his mother used to craft their bodies. And Dust is the one of the four that still resemblance who he used to be.

At elast Nightmare assumes that is why people think they see a resemblance. That or they are just racists and think all skeletons look alike.

the woman smiles "I am sure there is something fitting for him. Do you need any help?"

Killer's laugh turns cold as he smiles widely "No thanks! We got this!"

Dust rolls his eye lights and nudges him in the side "Stop it." he looks back to the lady "I was wodnering what the... organisation was. I wanted to look at stuff his size..." and he looks at the things he had been looking at with a glare.

The sheep monster looks a bit paler after Killer's interaction but smiles sweetly at Dust. "It is a bit of a mixmatch. Of all the stuff that is handmade it only has a few of each size. you will have to guestimate those. The imported clothes are by the walls, those have more standard sizing."

Dust nods "I see." and he starts walking towards the side first to check the sizing.

Killer grins as he leans close and whispers "Holding a babybones does wonders for making you look approachable"

Dust shoots him a glare and hisses "One word and I will put you in a wall myself." and he stomps over towards the clothes.

Nightmare still doens't understand why Killer thinks that kinda flirting is efficient but what does he know.

Dust is clearly unimpressed with the clothing offered with the more standard design and fabric. but they use it to figure out which size he is before moving towards the handmade stuff.

DUst and Nightmare check what is nice and soft as Killer shadows them. Staying nearby and pretty much glaring at anyone who as much as glances in their direction.

They end up settling for two big sweaters and some sweats. They wait by the cash register as Dust has picked him up again.

The nice woman smiles at them "That will be 140!" she smiles.

Killer winces at the price and Nightmare pushes closer to Dust "I don't need two." wool sweaters are expensive...

Dust shrugs as he looks at Killer "Be usefull and hold him for a moment." and Ngihtamre feels hismelf be handed over to Killer. Dust takes out some cash from his inventory and counts quickly before putting most of the stash he had on the counter "That should be enough." he stashes whatever is left.

The lady counts it and smiles as she puts it away. She packs it in a bag and holds it out to Dust "Thank you for shopping! And Can I just say it is lovely to see such a devoted father."

Dust shrugs and mutters a thanks before shooting Killer a warning look.

Killer grins as he nuzzles Nightmare "How are you this huggable tiny boss?"

Nightmare shrugs but holds unto Killer. Killer is also nice to be held by.

They leave the store together and walk back towards the parking lot. Something about meeting up again to go back to Crop's farm. Nightmare isn't really sure. He is already getting tired again adn he mumbles unhappily.

Killer purrs and coos "It is okay tiny boss. babybones need their sleep and rest after all."

Dust nods "Shopping is always busy." he shoots Killer a glare "Why is why i didn't want you to get him tired or overwhelmed."

Killer groans "Yeah yeah you were right. you are always right. can i go back to nuzzlign the baby now?"

Dust looks considerate before nodding "You may."

Killer grins and the nuzzles resume and Nightmare wants to pout and push him off but it is so nice and he can feel himself start to relax as he starts to purr again.

He likes it when his family holds him.

*-------------------*

First Drabble Prev Drabble Next Drabble

[starrylevi]

heyo~

I was wondering if I could request a jealous/pining!Levi x reader? I’m a complete sucker for the “im falling for them but i’m too stubborn to admit it and too shy to show it” trope.

Friendly banter/teasing from Hange and clumsy flirting attempts from Levi are always a bonus🤎

Hiiii. I hope this is in the realm of what you wanted 😅

——

“Y/N’s looking pretty cute today.” Hange says with a goofy smile as they nudge Levi.

“I’m eating.” Levi says sharply but that doesn’t stop his eyes from briefly looking up from his plate to catch a glimpse of you before he goes back to staring at his food.

“Oh brother, just talk to them!” Hange sucks their teeth, staring at Levi who’s not giving them the time of day. They stare at Levi for a few moments before they start to smile goofily. “Yo, Y/N!”

Levi feels panic seize him by the chest and he almost chokes on the bite he was working on. “Hange.” He croaks out quickly before he reminds himself to keep his composure, calmly swallowing the bite that almost killed him a millisecond ago.

You obliviously make your way over to the commander and the captain, a bit of fear in your throat as you wonder why you’re being summoned.

“Good morning.” You greet them with a soft smile as you stand in front of their table. Hange’s smiling up at you while Captain Levi continues to focus on his food.

“Morning.” Levi mumbles. He doesn’t bother to look up at you. You think it’s because he’s just being grumpy, as usual, but it’s so you don’t see the light blush that’s creeping up on his cheeks. I’m going to kill Hange, he thinks.

“On your way to training?” Hange asks happily.

“Yeah…?” You ask with a nervous chuckle.

“Leave the poor girl alone.” Levi says coolly as he shoots a quick glare to Hange.

Hange continues to smile, clearly unbothered by Levi. “See you then!” They wave you off and you leave confused.

On the training field Levi walks around with Hange. They’re watching all the soldiers, eyeing all their forms. Hange notices when all of the sudden Levi’s eyes narrow. They follow his line of sight and let out a snicker when they see one of the male soldiers trying to help you. This man is way too close for comfort. Hange can tell Levi is trying not to let it bother him. He crosses his arms and clears his throat as they continue to make their rounds.

“Levi.”

“Hm.” Levi acknowledges Hange, glancing over to them for a brief moment before his eyes goes back to you again. Levi quickly realizes his mistake and gives his full attention to Hange.

“Everything alright?”

“Course.” He says with another clearing of his throat.

Hange quickly looks at you still trying to master the move, the other soldier nowhere in sight. They lean over to Levi, whispering into his ear. “Go help her.”

“Tch.” Levi yanks his head away from Hange, rolling his eyes as he gently pushes them away.

But Levi does just that.

He makes his way over to you.

He approaches you slowly, taking a breath before speaking. “Having trouble there, soldier?”

“Oh.” You look back at him with a sheepish smile. “Kind of.”

“Here, I’ll-uh…” He’s careful to not touch too low on your waist as he adjusts your stance. He can’t help but think how soft you are, how perfectly your body fits into his hands.

He does take notice of the small sharp breath you take when his hands gently grip you. “Thank you, captain.” You say quietly, letting him position you the way he wants you to.

“Mhm.” He says, not trusting himself to say anything right now. Not when you’ve given him the privilege to touch you.

It’s a brief interaction but it’s enough to leave Levi in a daze. He walks back to Hange who is giving him the biggest thumbs up.

“Stop it.”

Secretly, Levi’s proud of himself. He’s touched you. Now he just has to talk to you.

[opttagoyeo]

pwp drabble (i might get it going after finals 🥲 pray for me) so this idea was around since last year after the release of tarot card but in adult version (what a shock it still in my mind, ofc becuz it's not all flesh out. just the idea of naruto using his cloak as a makeshift bed for hina as he fucked her in the middle of the forest) so this is just a sneak peek!

prompt: Emperor Naruto and Empress Hinata sneak and have fun at the center of the forest near their castle. :P 🤤👌

or just my excuse to write pwp naruhina

His nostrils flared, breathing uneven. The gaze he bestowed upon Hinata wasn’t anything nearly kind. He gripped her waist harshly, controlling his urges not to pounce immediately on his poor wife. His black iris tempted to swallow his cerulean eyes. It made her ache, especially in her lower region. She pressed her thighs together underneath her flowing, lilac gown. It wasn’t as if this was their first time doing such an act of making love. However, it always makes her delirious to experience such a thing together with the love of her life.

Her pulse quickened, blood rushing on her cheeks. If that look can devour her, she would gladly do so just for her emperor's sake. Although at the back of her mind, she desperately wanna see that feral sight between her thighs. Just the mere thought had her gushing love juices between her lovely forbidden lower region. It made her incredibly excited, she shuffled against her position. Such thoughts are nowhere near to what a good empress should behave as, but her one of a kind husband had taught her from time to time that she can be a little more greedy than necessary. After all, didn’t she love him? He’d let her indulge to the sweet temptation and eye-rolling ecstasy he offered. In response, she’ll gladly give everything she has for him, as an appreciation for the ever so hardworking leader of the empire.

“Let me make you feel good, dear Empress.” he husked against her ears before he licked them seductively, voice a few octaves lower. Shivering under the attention of the blond male, Hinata moaned sweetly. Her back arched against the blond’s chest. Plump bottom having direct contact with his hardened groin had Naruto desperately clutching Hinata’s shoulders, greedy to just thrust up a teeny bit more to create more friction for the man. His desire reaches up to new great heights as he gaze lovingly to the woman in front of him.

[kelpiemomma]

I find it great that a lot of the fandom looked at two out of time, out of place characters. Ingo and Protagonist, two characters with similar origins and have so much to relate to and thus fans agree that it is criminal and inexcusable that Gamefreak barely interact in Canon.

Everyone literally said "Screw Canon, These two are found family, train guy is dad/uncle/friend now

Love your PLA fics of that dynamic. I don't know if you're still open to prompts. You don't have to do this if you don't feel it but here's a prompt I got for you.

Explore Ingo's and Akari's relationship that develops post-game.

Many fics have them bond during the main plot but not much do post game events.

(You could touch events that occured preplot or during plot and explore how characters felt before they met)

Ohhhh interesting interesting interesting..... I think that's because most of us find it easiest to maneuver them around in-game events, and I don't think I've done too much post-gaming myself (easily distracted, started two other playthroughs)

I am definitely intrigued by this idea though. Do you mean they have their basic interaction in canon, but the further relationship develops post game? And what are we counting as post game- calming all the nobles & fighting palkia and dialga, but pre-volo? Or is Volo still part of the main playthrough?

Because I can see (rolling in the dad direction, as I do, in various directions) Ingo being distantly friendly with the protagonist (let's say Akari, as is my usual :,D sorry) He provides training at the dojo with Zisu, sees Akari there mostly, but doesn't much interact with her otherwise. I truly can't imagine him seeing her kicked out of jubilife and not doing anything- moral-wise, at least, I feel like he would say or do something. Even if he felt it wasn't his place as someone not of Jubilife, I think that he (and most of us, I would hope) would protest kicking a kid out of a safe area. It's possible he either wasn't there (returned to the Highlands for a time) or saw it happening, but didn't see Akari's face and assumed she was just going out for another mission. By the time he does hear about it, or understand what happened, and goes looking Akari has already been picked up by Volo. Ingo asks Irida if she knows where Akari can be found and Irida promises she's somewhere safe but can't say more. So until she returns, all Ingo can do is be satisfied that Akari is safe. He no longer trusts Jubilife residents as he did, especially Kamado, and spends less time there. When Akari returns having tamed the two gods, Ingo decides that maybe it's a little fucked up that this kid has done all this on her own. She's still just like 15 at most, right?

He attempts to strike up conversations at the dojo without being creepy, because some part of him is well aware how it might seem if someone of his age shows too much interest in a teenager (the very thought turns his stomach in disgust. He feels regretful that he couldn't help earlier.) but thankfully Akari likes to talk about the Pokedex, and Ingo is a walking Pokedex as well in a way. There's no one able to battle quite like him, which actually helps Akari with her research. She starts searching him out more because he never requires anything or expects anything of her, and they can talk about pokemon or item crafting or food easily. In fact, she starts going to him when she finds strange pokemon in space-time rifts because Ingo almost always finds them familiar and has something to say about them. Sometimes they'll run into each other in the highlands and Ingo will take her somewhere cool, or just take her to a neat little meadow and tell her to chill out because she's spiraling in anxiety over the work she still has to do. They end up bonding over little things and helping each other, with Ingo gradually becoming the first person Akari goes to when she has news because his enthusiasm is always genuine and a little extra but it's nice.

They bond further after Akari battles Volo and comes down from the summit looking absolutely wrecked and in tears. She's been betrayed and had what she thought was a dear, close friendship destroyed. Ingo doesn't pry as much as he wants to- he's upset that she's upset, and he wants to know what happened because this time they're friendly. He cares for her as family and wants to hurt whoever hurt her. But Akari comes first, and so he takes her to his home and lets her wallow in her misery until she can tell him what happened. He asks if she wants him to track Volo down and take care of him, but Akari denies it and says he doesn't need to act like her dad when he isn't. Which kind of makes Ingo stop and think bc... Well. He doesn't have kids. Has never had much interest in having kids. But he likes Akari, and he thinks that she could use a father figure, and he wouldnt mind filling those shoes... So he accepts her request, but he tells her then and there that he doesn't mind acting as her father (figure) because he does genuinely care for her and her well being. Which isn't something Akari was expecting and she kind of stammers... Declines... Takes off. And it hurts but Ingo lets her go. It's her decision to accept or not, and he won't force her one way or another. He appreciates their friendship too much.

Akari avoids him for a couple weeks, which sucks but Ingo stands by his decision to not push. He continues his work in the Highlands, continues training at the dojo, until one day he finds himself standing in front of the photo parlor. He's gotten a picture of himself before, but he was alone and it didn't feel right. It felt like something was missing. Someone should've been by his side, at his back. He's lost in thought until he feels the wristband of his coat get tugged on and looks to see Akari standing beside him, shifty. She apologizes for running off and avoiding him, explains that she had to think, and he accepts her apology. Says he understands, because it was something he'd gradually come to realize and that he shouldn't have sprung it on her. And Akari is clearly Not Of This Time because she gets quiet and then asks him, really fast and kind of quiet, that he meant like being her DAD and not her DADDY right, because she REALLY didn't see him like that and- and Ingo immediately says NO ABSOLUTELY NOT. Just... Dad. Acting as a caretaker. Keeping her safe. Being a place of refuge. Platonic father feelings ONLY. And Akari looks relieved, and Ingo is also relieved because he definitely doesn't see her that way and is glad she now understands that. He shudders at the thought, and she laughs at him, and Ingo pretends to glare at her and scold her but she settles in a little closer.

She looks at the building with all the photos and paintings and asks what he was up to. He explains that he was wondering if he should try getting another picture done, that he'd had one taken before but had needed to throw it away because looking at it made him feel uncomfortable. Akari asks if he thinks it has something to do with the man in white and ingo... nods, because now that she mentioned it, yes. Because the man in white is not here, and Ingo is alone. Apparently he says that out loud, and Akari's face flushes as she takes his hand and drags him inside. Because Ingo's not alone anymore, she says, because they're family. So until the man in white is back, she's going to be where he was. And they take the picture, and it's not exactly perfect... She doesn't fit like he thinks she should, and the pose is weird and not quite correct, but as he looks at the photo she handed him before going to grab some of her gear to take up to the Highlands - there's something she needs to check on, she said, and since Ingo has decided she's his responsibility obviously her DAD needs to go with her! - he feels... Better. Not fixed, but still... Complete. He's not alone. He has family now.

He tucks the photo into his coat for safe keeping, and when Akari returns to his side (she said she'd see him as her father, would she call him dad? Should he call her his daughter? They'll need to talk about it.) he smiles, and she smiles back, and for now everything will be okay. He is not part of an incomplete set anymore.

[captainseamech]

Tag (re)Drop

//At long last, I finally decided to stop everything and focus on my blog by itself! This post is quite long (obviously) and a few tags were slaughtered in the process since I no longer use them and also to make place for new ones, but I hope this eases the tagging mess for once!!

🌊 | outside the ship / ooc

🌊 | inside the ship / ic

🌊 | stuck in my datapad / mobile

🌊 | coming aboard / threads

🌊 | message in a bottle / asks

🌊 | grayfaced annoyance / anonymous

🌊 | a reflection of myself / visage

🌊 | Lapis did a thing / arts & edits

🌊 | in troubled waters / memes & prompts

🌊 | watching over seas / dash comm

🌊 | this looks fun / dash games

🌊 | from another point of view / headcanons

🌊 | through the soul of a sailor / study

🌊 | you're not the only fish in the ocean... / musings

🌊 | all the beauties hidden underwater / aesthetic

🌊 | don't call me tidepod! / crack

🌊 | pay attention landlubbers! / psa

🌊 | maybe for later... / wishlist

🌊 | a story for another day / drabbles

🌊 | singing sea shanties / music & audio

🌊 | in the waves of love / ship stuff

🌊 | ocean man approval / promo

🌊 | ocean man brand / self promo

🌊 | captain's data log / status

🌊 | my new treasure / saved tag

🌊 | checking again / self reblog

🌊 | swimming along / queue

[universestreasures]

@crimsonkaiser​ Sent: An 𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐀 Sentence Starter (Accepting!) 

❝  i  was  never  complete  until  i  found  you.  ❞ [@ Aichiii

He should be feeling relief right now. No really, he should be. By some miracle, both he and Kai had managed to resurface at the same time. It seems whatever Toshiki and Ahmes were doing in their bodies had worn them out to the point where an opening was created for the two present souls to take back control. Without even needing to think, Aichi and Kai instantly clung to each other, hugging each other tightly as if they’d vanish if they let go. 

However, not even this moment can bring peace to the turmoil that the prince had sprouted in Aichi’s heart. After having fallen back asleep after his encounter with who he knew now as ‘Percival’ and ‘Toshiki’, Prince Ahmes had appeared to speak with. Along with a warning, his own memories played out before Aichi’s eyes, the very same ones he’s been having glimpses of for months now through his dreams and sudden images. Everything slowly came to make sense for him, but with that knowledge...came conflict. 

The way love in his heart for Kai blossomed upon their first meeting...The way he managed to get stronger because of him...The way he selflessly sacrificed his own well being so Kai could feed and be healthy...

Were all of those feelings...even...his? 

Was he...even himself? 

Aichi breaks away from Kai’s hold. With his stronger turned body, it was a rather easy to do. He’s honestly not so used to be so physically strong. He doesn’t have access to Ahmes’ powers, those being reserved for the prince himself. After all, he was just a vessel, wasn’t he? That’s what Ahmes had told him repeatedly, and despite not wanting to hear it at first, now he...

“Are those...your words, Kai Kun?” A pause follows the question, his gaze shifted towards the ground as he walks away from the other towards the balcony of the prince’s chambers. A full moon was out tonight, the very thing that was almost a constant in his recollections of Ahmes’ memories. It had seen everything, just as it was now watching things unfold now for better or worse.  

“Or...are they Toshiki’s?”

Who was Aichi Sendou? Prince Ahmes Reborn? A vessel? His own person? 

He...He didn’t know, both the truth or how to feel. His future, his life...had all seemed so clear before, but now...it’s as blank as an artist’s white canvas, with no clear idea for what it will become. One thing that is certain is that he is terrified to find out what his future will be, if he’ll even have one...

~

[shadowwalkerimagines]

『 Outsider: Promise 』 Mass Effect | You; Reader Insert; Second-Person Point of View; Gender Neutral; Female Shepard

Rating: G | Warnings for this fic: Existential Dread

Summary: When it stops being just a game, that’s when the fear and uncertainty kicks in. You’ve somehow managed to find yourself isekai’d into the world of Mass Effect and you’re pretty sure that triggers some sort of flag.

You sigh, hold yourself tighter, and you’re feeling less than comfortable in this position but the ache in your back and the strain in your arms reminds you that this is real. You’re not dreaming this impossible scene.

Shepard is discussing (arguing?) with Miranda and Jacob and you hope and pray that they won’t hand you over to The Illusive Man. Sure he’ll already know about you—that’s just how he and Cerberus and this whole game works—but you know about him, too. Know that no matter the outcome you won’t be safe because there is just so, so much yet to come for Shepard and her team, for the Normandy and this entire Galaxy. And it’s that very knowledge that has painted you one of the biggest, brightest targets.

If anyone got hold of what you know… it could spell the literal end.

You dig your nails into the flesh of your wrist—the biting sensation distracts you from your anxiety—and don’t even register that Shepard has ended the discussion.

You don’t know what decision they came to but Miranda and Jacob are filing out of the room, leaving just the two of you.

“Hey…” comes Shepard’s husky voice, low and careful, like she’s speaking to a frightened animal ready to flee. “Don’t worry, we’ll keep you safe.”

You can hear the conviction in her voice, how sure of that she sounds (she must be on a paragon route, your mind intrusively supplies), but you know better than to trust promises that can’t be kept. Especially in this reality full of so very many possibilities.

You lay your head against the back of your knees and close your eyes. “Sure,” you mumble, knowing she believes her words and will do anything she can to hold true to them. But you know reality isn’t as kind. 

[ihateclaws]

I have decided sole survivor in my sort-of au is literally called Sole, and they’re a they/them

[ofeternallightning]

Tag drop 1: ooc

❪ ⋅ 悠久 ⋆ — the voice behind eternity┊❛ shan ❜ ❫ ❪ ⋅ 悠久 ⋆ — lightning charred┊❛ tbd ❜ ❫ ❪ ⋅ 悠久 ⋆ — eternity paused┊❛ queue ❜ ❫ ❪ ⋅ 悠久 ⋆ — important notices┊❛ psa ❜ ❫ ❪ ⋅ 悠久 ⋆ — announcement of the shogun┊❛ blog psa ❜ ❫ ❪ ⋅ 悠久 ⋆ — for the other voice┊❛ ooc saved ❜ ❫ ❪ ⋅ 悠久 ⋆ — heed the shoguns calling┊❛ signal boost ❜ ❫ ❪ ⋅ 悠久 ⋆ — memories held by eternity┊❛ drabbles ❜ ❫ ❪ ⋅ 悠久 ⋆ — creations from eternity┊❛ edits ❜ ❫ ❪ ⋅ 悠久 ⋆ — sitting down dango┊❛ studies ❜ ❫ ❪ ⋅ 悠久 ⋆ — the nation of eternity┊❛ promo ❜ ❫ ❪ ⋅ 悠久 ⋆ — O'raiden shogun of eternity┊❛ self promo ❜ ❫ ❪ ⋅ 悠久 ⋆ — letters for the outside voice┊❛ ooc memes ❜ ❫ ❪ ⋅ 悠久 ⋆ — the other voice answers┊❛ ooc inbox ❜ ❫ ❪ ⋅ 悠久 ⋆ — dreams outside of eternity┊❛ wishlist ❜ ❫ ❪ ⋅ 悠久 ⋆ — for the nation of eternity┊❛ open to mutuals ❜ ❫ ❪ ⋅ 悠久 ⋆ — for those from other nations┊❛ open to all ❜ ❫ ❪ ⋅ 悠久 ⋆ — do not look if you aren't caught up┊❛ spoilers ❜ ❫

[for-ests]

When I talked to the moon last night, I told her about you.

husband!gojo x reader drabble. he loves his wife SO much. just little romantic rituals.

∘∙∘☾𖤓∘∙∘

Shirtless, leaning against the railing of his balcony, Gojo exhaled blissfully. The curtains from inside flapped against the wind, reminding him that he hadn’t slid the doors shut. But he didn’t mind, as he was able to view your half-covered body tangled in his sheets, chest rising and falling in slow, peaceful breaths. A smile on your face despite the deep slumber he lulled you into. 

Satoru did promise that you would never fall asleep without a smile on your face if you married him. 

And he was proud to keep it. 

You were everything to him, and he found a routine to follow after making love to you—wandering out to his balcony to thank the moon, the stars, or whatever was shining down on him from above. Like he often did as a child, gazing up at the moon as if it contained all of life’s answers, as if its wisdom whispered the key to your happiness. 

Satoru found solace in the moon. And when the moon told him about the sun, he told the moon about you. The brightest, most important star in his universe. Nothing would ever outshine you in his mind. 

He was so lucky to have you, and a day never passed without him acknowledging it. 

Overcome with emotion, Satoru’s fingers tightened around the metal railing, slumping over it, as if he was afraid to keep gazing at the moon and its brilliance. The same overwhelming understanding washed over him. Gazing up at the moon was the equivalent of looking into your eyes. 

Such beauty. An indescribable force. You. His Goddess. How lucky he was to have you by his side, in his bed, in his life. 

The brightness from outside shined so perfectly into your eyes, that they flickered open. As you sat up, the first thing you saw was your husband on the balcony, deep in thought. 

The muscles of his back seemed to contort under the moonlight. Your husband was so melodramatic. 

“Is it a full moon tonight?” You whispered groggily from behind, not giving him a moment to reply before embracing him and resting your head against his back. 

He didn’t need to ask why you joined him, as the first few times he asked, you always mumbled a cute and tired, “Toru, you know I can’t sleep without you.” 

Chuckling softly, Gojo turned around to face you and pulled you into his chest. “Look for yourself, my love,” he whispered, pressing a light, gentle kiss on your forehead. 

Exhaling, your nose scrunched, a playful glint in your eyes as you glanced up at him. Every time he held you so tightly, so carefully and protectively, you felt like you were falling in love with him all over again. 

The brightness of the moon was clear, and it seemed to light up the entire sky, casting shadows along the drifting clouds, and highlighting Gojo’s features. Sometimes, it was hard to believe he was your husband. How lucky you were. 

“What is the moon saying tonight?” you teased with a lighthearted tone. 

Satoru claimed that the moon told him to marry you, after all. You are my sun, Y/N. He whispered every time he had to depart from you. 

Without the sun, the moon would know nothing but darkness. And every morning, the light and joy you greeted him with was an everlasting reminder that he found his other half. 

Glancing back to the stars dotting the sky, hardly visible from the moon’s brilliance, Gojo’s eyes twinkled. “The moon congratulated me.” 

Arms slipping around his waist, you questioned in a curious murmur. “For what?” 

His head tilted back to gain a better look at you. “Somehow convincing you to marry me.” He smiled sleepily, leaning down to capture your lips again. Kissing you would never grow tiresome, it was the action he looked forward to most every morning and every night. It was like he would die without it. 

“Well the sun knows it didn’t take much convincing.” You took both of his hands in yours and tugged him back to the door’s entrance. “But maybe I can ask it again in the morning.” 

“Just to make sure?” He smiled. 

Falling back into the king-sized bed, you sighed innocently, beckoning Gojo to follow you. Once he did, you cuddled up next to him. One hand on his cheek, you pressed your lips against his. 

“The sun makes no mistakes, my love,” you mumbled against his lips. 

[alicemitch09writes]

hi! im really curious about this and has been on my mind for quite some time but let’s say... WHAT EAAAAF! what if....... !!! okay, just a what if 😣 suna was given a push (someone more stubborn than him OR there was just an encounter that made him... go for it) and actually pursue reader during their high school days, how do you think that would come to be and also, how would their dynamic change then!? (because it’s not like.... reader isn’t open back then. in the kageyama route, she even was with him during their hs days period !!!!!!!) so i was just thinking how it would differ from oli ! again this is just all hypothetical and got me all curious huhu (as in let’s say they work out, we don’t care abt atsumu and i just know kita would b supportive that’s ong!!!!)

to be honest, it would not end well.

the only reason kageyama had a chance was because he had hinata, and he was a good wingman. reader was taken completely by surprise by the duo, more so by kageyama.

suna, on the other hand? oof.

more than anything, she would reject him in the nicest way possible. but that would STILL crush suna so bad. and if it affected his play, then reader would probably have to force herself to leave because she doesn't want to ruin volleyball for him. that, or suna would just be another atsumu. idk either would be a possibility.

for better or for worse, atsumu would take note of this and would approach reader to talk about it. it'll worsen the team dynamic entirely.

so no, suna would NOT pursue reader in high school.

plus, it would be (at least in my fic) out of character for him to want to engage with her romantically considering the fragile state she's in. that's kind of manipulative and she doesn't need that, having a deep trauma from her emotionally manipulative father already.

[writingsbychlo]

PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE | mattheo riddle

summary; mattheo is your slightly toxic, slightly unhinged, but absolutely adoring and completely obsessed boyfriend.

word count; 7077

notes; literally the moment I started watching the PPP music video I was like 'oh it's so matty coded' and this came to mind immediately. I didn't intend for it to get so long, it was supposed to be a short drabble. whoops.

The first time you met Mattheo Riddle, you were just walking out of detention as he was walking in. 

Well, being dragged in by Madam Hooch, more like. He had blood on his face, and his knuckles, and he was smirking to himself as a sorry-looking Cormac trailed them inside. His eyes met yours, he’d winked, and you’d both continued to watch one another over your shoulders as you crossed paths, until the door shut. 

You were his, from that very first moment. 

The following days brought stolen glances across the classrooms and the Great Hall, his arrogant smirks and your shy smiles, and the look on his face that made you blush. You had to see him again, and opportunity presented itself that same Thursday, in Potions class, as Mattheo argued with Snape over… something. 

You’d tuned out, preferring to sit and watch him. He was just so pretty when he was mad. 

“That will be detention, Mr Riddle.” Snape drawled in that monotonous tone of his, and Mattheo glared across the classroom at the professor, who looked like he couldn't have cared less if he tried. “Unless anybody else has any objections, we can return to—”

Your book hit the ground with a resounding thud. The sound of it echoed around the room, and all eyes turned to you. You weren’t sure what exactly had brought it on, and your friends stared at you, horrified about the disruption. An excuse sat on the tip of your tongue, but then your eyes met those enchanting honey-brown ones, and he was smirking at you once again, a single brow raised. 

“Motherfucker.” You squeaked out, and after a pause that felt like it lasted an eternity, your professor sighed. 

“Very well. Detention for you, too.”

Your jaw dropped, heat flushed your face, and Mattheo’s smirk stretched into a smile. Another wink, and you were a goner. 

That same evening in detention, you’d been punctual and prompt, and he had sauntered in fifteen minutes late, sliding into the chair right beside you. Whispered conversations became jokes and confessions, inching closer and closer together, until you could count every little freckle that danced across his nose, and taste the nicotine and mint still on his breath when he spoke. His eyes held you captive, the stories he told had you on the edge of your seat, and the way his hand slid up your thigh had you burning. 

Your first kiss was a month later, when he’d made you promise not to get any more detentions just to see him. Instead, you’d waited outside the classroom, and the moment he’d been out, he’d given you that same flirty grin. Pressed up into the stone wall behind you, with one of his hands beside your head as the other sat on your waist, his tongue had slipped into your mouth. He’d tasted like chocolate and cigarettes, and you’d been intoxicated. 

And when he pulled back, his softest smile yet on his face as his hand had taken your own, you’d known that he was yours, too.

“What do you mean you’re going out with Mattheo Riddle?” Your friend hissed, her eyes wide as the two of you huddled close together, ducking along the corridors as you hurried to your next class. 

“Well, I mean that he asked me out on a date, and I said yes, so—”

“Don’t be sassy with me!” She scoffed, and you smiled, shrugging. She really had left herself wide open for that, it wasn’t your fault you took the chance she presented. “He’s bad news.”

“Oh, come on. What does that even mean?”

“It means that he’s bad for you. He’s bad for everyone!” Finally reaching the classroom —early, as always— the two of you settled in at your desk, unpacking your books, and still whispering despite the empty classroom you found yourselves in. Not even the professor had arrived yet. “He’s always getting in fights, and he’s always in trouble or detention, and— hey! I bet he’s the reason you’ve been getting a string of detentions lately, huh?”

You had no rebuff to that, heat coating your cheeks but you couldn't hide the smile that grew on your face at the mere thought of all your detention time spent together. “He told me not to do that anymore, that’s why he asked for a date! See? He’s good for me.”

“Oh, gee, what a saint he is.” She muttered, eyes rolling so hard you thought they’d fall out. All humour slowly dissipated between you both, and she frowned and opened her notebook, dipping a quill in fresh ink. As the seconds ticked by, tension grew between you both that you didn’t like. 

“Look, I know what people say about him, and the reputation he has, but he’s not like that with me. He’s not been like that with me.” Your hand lifted, scratching your cheek subconsciously. “It’s… not our first date. It’s just the first one I’ve told you about, because I knew you’d react like this. But, if you knew him like I did, you’d understand…”

Your voice trailed off, dreamy with a sigh and she turned to look at you. One of her brows raised as she put down her quill delicately. A beat passed, and her shoulders sagged, a little of the tension slipping free. “He really makes you happy? Because… I’m just worried about you, y’know?”

“I know, and I love you for that. But I just need you to be happy for me right now.”

“He’s going to break your heart. He’s going to make you cry, and hate the world, and I don’t like that.” 

Your hand slipped to hers, taking it in yours and squeezing. Flicking through your mind was the confidence brought on by every sweet word he whispered in your ear. All the soft kisses and touches. They didn’t know the kindness, and the devotion, and the loyalty. 

How could they, when they never gave him a chance? But his friends did, they saw the same side of him that you did. The version of him that would defend their name, and stop at nothing to make them happy. The version of him that didn’t believe the lies and the rumours, and never even looked at any other girls. 

They didn’t know how funny he was, how secretly cuddly he was, or how he just craved a little attention. They didn’t see him on the nights he’d sneak into your dorm just to crawl into bed and hold you, or the flowers he’d drop off outside your door. They didn’t see the love-hearts written on the corners of his notes in class or the way he got grumpy if he went too long without affection. 

You had good taste. You knew you did. It was just a shame nobody else saw it.

 “He won’t, I know he won’t.”

“I hope for your sake he proves me wrong.”

Mattheo was nothing if not a sweet-talker. He’d spent the morning covering you with kisses, and whispering into your ear about the date he would take you on tonight. By the end of the day, you’d been kissed on every inch of your face, and the husky tone of his voice was still ringing in your ears as he bid you goodbye, and promised to pick you up in a few hours. 

He’d been right on time, too. Knocking at your door at seven on the dot with flowers in hand and a whole new batch of compliments rolling off of his tongue. Gods, did Mattheo love to make you blush. Everything from looking you up and down seductively, to telling you that you were the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, he did it all. 

He kissed you like you were the only woman in the world, like he wanted you to feel his love and devotion as much as he spoke the words, and you melted into him every time. Whether it was a brush of his lips over your own, or his hands grasping at your body, pulling you so close you nearly fused as his mouth claimed yours, he did all of it so passionately. 

Now, he was kissing your knuckles, guiding you toward one of the more expensive restaurants in Hogsmeade, one you’d never been to before, and grinning at your expression. 

“Matty, this place isn’t cheap!”

“Nothing will be good enough for my girl, but certainly nothing cheap. For now, this is the best I can give to you.” Tugging you in close, the two of you stood outside of the beautifully decorated little building, and he nudged his nose against yours. “One day, I’ll take you all around the world, to eat the best food with the best views.”

“Oh…” Your hands settled on his face, thumbs rubbing across his cheeks as he smiled, and you pressed a kiss on his lips in gratitude as words seemed to escape you entirely. “I love you.”

“I love you more, pretty girl.” His arms were tight around your waist, not quite ready to go yet, and his lips parted like there was something more he had to say. “Listen, when we get in there, I just have to speak to one of the workers real quick, okay?”

“Okay.” It didn’t seem all that concerning to you, and with a final kiss to your lips, he was holding open the restaurant door for you. His hand was warm in your own as he led you through the building. But then he was guiding you right past the hostess station, and you glanced back to it, but his feet never stopped moving, and you hurried to keep up with him. 

Past tables and other workers, your jaw dropped with a soft gasp as he let himself into the back of the restaurant.

“Matty, I don’t think we’re allowed back here…”

“Don’t worry about it, baby.” Mattheo smiled, leaving another kiss on your cheek as he let go of your hand. “Wait here for me, ‘kay? I just need to speak to one of the chefs.”

With that, he was disappearing into the kitchens, and you leaned back against the wall, staring at the clock opposite you. Seconds ticked past, turning into minutes, ten of them, to be precise, before the shouting started. Mattheo was yelling, you’d know his voice anywhere, and when you poked your head around the doorframe and into the kitchen, it was to find him holding a vaguely familiar-looking chef by the collar, and slamming him into a wall. 

“Mattheo!”

Your voice fell on deaf ears, as the two began to push. Mattheo’s back hit the counter behind him, a sickening smack and a grunt of pain, before the two were throwing fists. Every crunch of bones on skin and every rattling sound of a body hitting the workstations and countertops made your stomach turn. You covered your ears, turning your back on it all and shaking your head. 

You didn’t need to see that. 

Eventually, the other chefs stepped in, dragging Mattheo out of the backdoor. When it was all over, you apologised profusely as you hurried through the kitchen to follow after him, hopping over the boy he’d beaten half-senseless who was groaning on the floor. 

Stepping out through the backdoor, Mattheo was pacing, spitting a bloody mouthful out onto the floor, and his head snapped up in your direction. Only when he realised who it was did his gaze soften, and he wiped his palm across the back of his mouth. 

A few seconds of silence passed as the shock settled and you checked he was okay, and when he reached for you, you turned from him. Storming away down the alley, you heard his frustrated groan behind you, the sound of him kicking a trash can, before he was hurrying after you. 

“Okay, I know that wasn’t how the evening was supposed to go—”

“Oh, it wasn’t?” Your laugh was so dry it almost made your chest hurt, and you didn't even bother to look back at him as you began to walk back through Hogsmeade.

“I fucked up, I know—”

“Understatement of the century.” You muttered, ignoring his attempts at excuses and explanations as you wove through the streets. People offered you both funny looks, no doubt because of the blood running from his nose as he tried to stop it, the pair of you mid-argument. 

When you reached the edges of the town, Mattheo fell into step beside you, his hand skimming down your back, burning into you through the thin fabric of your dress. A dress that had been a damn waste to put on.

“Don’t touch me.” You hissed, slapping his hand away from your lower back, and he whined.

“Oh, come on, baby. I’m sorry.”

“You’re not sorry! You planned this, and told me we were going on a date!” Your arms crossed over your chest as you stomped back out of the small village, beginning the walk back towards the school. “You lied to me!”

“Woah, now! Hey! I never lied! I fully intended to—” He huffed as you continued to walk ahead of him, all but speeding in your heels until you wobbled, and he cursed under his breath, catching you to steady you. Spinning you around, he tipped your chin up with one finger. “Listen, pretty girl. I never meant for all this to happen, okay? I meant it when I said I’d made us a reservation. I just figured I’d go and get my money from this guy, maybe even let him off a few galleons so he’d give us better service, and then we’d have a nice date. I didn’t expect him to start a fight!”

“He didn’t start the fight, you did!” You poked a finger into his chest, and he winced. Obviously, you’d found a bruise by mistake. Smoothing your palm over it in way of a silent apology, his hand cupped yours, holding it over his heart. “You said ‘Let’s take this outside’.”

“Okay, well, I was calling his bluff. I didn’t expect him to actually take me up on it!”

Your jaw tightened, and your lip wobbled. You felt ridiculous, you’d gotten all dressed up, and you were hungry, and he’d let you down. At your expression, his own face crumpled, and he sighed sadly as he cupped your cheeks. 

“Please, baby, don’t cry because of me. You look so pretty, you did your makeup so nice, I don’t want you to cry because of me. Let’s just go back and find somewhere else to eat, yeah?”

“I don’t want to, and we can’t! You’re dirty and bleeding, and you’ve got a black eye coming on. We can’t go anywhere.” You muttered, crossing your arms. He leaned in, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“I’m sorry. I love you, more than anything. I really didn’t mean for it to go like this. I won’t let it happen again.”

“Promise me.” You huffed, gaze finally returning to his, and he nodded emphatically. “No more acting stupid in front of me.”

“I promise, sweet girl. I’ll never mix business with pleasure again, okay? When I’m with you, it’s all you.”

Just like that, he had your walls crumbling. How could you stay mad at him, when he smiled so sweetly, and made you feel so special? You gave in, one hand lifting to his cheek, touching gently at the swollen skin around the cut on his face. He hissed and pulled back, and your frown only deepened. “C’mon, you can come to my dorm, I’ll clean you up.”

“You’re gonna’ clean me up?” His smile was like that of a puppy, taking your hand happily and guiding you back along the path. “I tell you what, I’ll force Nott to sneak into the kitchens and make us some pasta, in exchange for the room to himself tonight, how’s that?”

“And where will you be sleeping?” You smirked, and he matched it, shrugging. 

“I don’t know. Maybe the cold, stone floor in front of the common room fireplace.” Your eyes rolled, and he dipped his head, leaving a kiss on your neck. “Or maybe, my loving girlfriend will let me stay over, and I’ll make it worth her while…”

“I don’t want to look at your battered face.”

“Put a pillow over my head and get on top, then.” He snickered, and your jaw dropped.

“Matty!”

You brushed your fingers through Mattheo’s curls, and a sleepy rumble emanated from him. He nuzzled in a little closer. The tip of his nose rubbed your sternum and his arms tightened around you. He pressed a lazy kiss to your skin through your tee, melting into you further with the sigh he let go. 

You’d spent all day dozing on and off together, lounging in bed, and watching movies. You’d dragged yourself up at some point to grab a book, an attempt to be productive, but Mattheo had quickly put an end to that as he dragged you back into the sheets. Now, the evening was rolling around, the sun was setting, and the stagnation of the day was beginning to become bothersome. 

With another huffed-out sigh, Mattheo lifted his head, a frown on his lips as your hand slipped down to his cheek. He was sleep rumpled, a crease across his cheek from where he’d been lying on you, and you rubbed it soothingly. 

“I could do with some fresh air,” He eventually mumbled, twisting his head to kiss the palm of your hand. “Let’s go for a walk or something.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest. Lately, he’d been getting into all sorts of arguments and fights. Never with you, no, your little disagreements ended with him conceding and kissing you senseless. But, he’d been drawing a lot of extra attention to himself lately, and it wasn’t all that positive. You weren’t so keen to have another date ruined by his fighting or being dragged off to detention. 

“Maybe the courtyard?”

“We could stay here?” You suggested, and he pursed his lips, shaking his head. 

“No, I want to go out. You don’t have to come, baby. I’ll just go for a smoke break, I’m sure Theo is knocking around here somewhere.” With that, he hauled himself up from the bed, and you watched him go. Stretching out muscles that hadn't been utilised all day, you bit your lip, tangled up in the sheets still as you watched him fetch a fresh t-shirt and tug it on, before searching for a pair of jeans. 

You couldn't very well let him go alone, if he did, he’d smoke, and you hated that. But if you did go with him, you’d spend the whole time trying to stop him from riling up the Gryffindors he seemed to be having so many problems with recently. 

He found a pair, tugging them up his legs and buttoning them at his waist. He was determined to go then, and you rolled over to prop your head up on your arm. 

“I really can’t convince you to stay?” You teased, sneaking a bare leg out from under the covers that led all the way up, and giving him a flash of what else lay underneath. Rolling onto your stomach and letting the sheets fall, his eyes fell straight to the skimpy little bit of lace you’d donned earlier, barely classifying as underwear at all. 

He groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m gonna’ need a few more hours before I can go again, pretty girl. No matter how much you tease me with that little thong of yours.”

It was futile, once his mind was set, it was done. “Alright, fine.” You murmured, lips puckering as he leaned over the bed to give you a quick kiss. “I’ll come with you.”

“You will?” His face lit up, and guilt instantly flooded you. 

It wasn’t necessarily his fault. It was just a part of his culture. He’d been raised on impulsivity and violence and arguments. You knew all about his home life, his childhood and his upbringing. He’d had a rough time of it, the grizzly truth unveiled to you between late-night kisses and midnights at the tower as he smoked. You were surprised he even possessed the limited emotional functions he did, unlike his brother. You were supposed to guide him, to help him see better, to love him right and show him the purity of it. 

He tugged on your hands, an excited smile on his face as he helped you out of the sheets. He found your denim skirt on the floor, holding it out for you and letting you balance on his shoulders as you wobbled into it. 

“How about the forest, instead?”

At least there would be fewer people there. He nodded his head, swiping a kiss to your cheek as he mumbled a spell to set the bed off on making itself. “Whatever you want, baby.”

It would surely end badly, something or someone would send him into a spiral. But, until that happened, you wanted to soak up every second of that smile on his face, that you put there so easily. How anyone could think he was bad, when he smiled so sweetly, was beyond you. 

You brushed your fingers through Mattheo’s curls, and a sleepy rumble emanated from him. He nuzzled in a little closer. The tip of his nose rubbed your sternum and his arms tightened around you. He pressed a lazy kiss to your skin through your tee, melting into you further with the sigh he let go. 

You’d spent all day dozing on and off together, lounging in bed, and watching movies. You’d dragged yourself up at some point to grab a book, an attempt to be productive, but Mattheo had quickly put an end to that as he dragged you back into the sheets. Now, the evening was rolling around, the sun was setting, and the stagnation of the day was beginning to become bothersome. 

With another huffed-out sigh, Mattheo lifted his head, a frown on his lips as your hand slipped down to his cheek. He was sleep rumpled, a crease across his cheek from where he’d been lying on you, and you rubbed it soothingly. 

“I could do with some fresh air,” He eventually mumbled, twisting his head to kiss the palm of your hand. “Let’s go for a walk or something.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest. Lately, he’d been getting into all sorts of arguments and fights. Never with you, no, your little disagreements ended with him conceding and kissing you senseless. But, he’d been drawing a lot of extra attention to himself lately, and it wasn’t all that positive. You weren’t so keen to have another date ruined by his fighting or being dragged off to detention. 

“Maybe the courtyard?”

“We could stay here?” You suggested, and he pursed his lips, shaking his head. 

“No, I want to go out. You don’t have to come, baby. I’ll just go for a smoke break, I’m sure Theo is knocking around here somewhere.” With that, he hauled himself up from the bed, and you watched him go. Stretching out muscles that hadn't been utilised all day, you bit your lip, tangled up in the sheets still as you watched him fetch a fresh t-shirt and tug it on, before searching for a pair of jeans. 

You couldn't very well let him go alone, if he did, he’d smoke, and you hated that. But if you did go with him, you’d spend the whole time trying to stop him from riling up the Gryffindors he seemed to be having so many problems with recently. 

He found a pair, tugging them up his legs and buttoning them at his waist. He was determined to go then, and you rolled over to prop your head up on your arm. 

“I really can’t convince you to stay?” You teased, sneaking a bare leg out from under the covers that led all the way up, and giving him a flash of what else lay underneath. Rolling onto your stomach and letting the sheets fall, his eyes fell straight to the skimpy little bit of lace you’d donned earlier, barely classifying as underwear at all. 

He groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m gonna’ need a few more hours before I can go again, pretty girl. No matter how much you tease me with that little thong of yours.”

It was futile, once his mind was set, it was done. “Alright, fine.” You murmured, lips puckering as he leaned over the bed to give you a quick kiss. “I’ll come with you.”

“You will?” His face lit up, and guilt instantly flooded you. 

It wasn’t necessarily his fault. It was just a part of his culture. He’d been raised on impulsivity and violence and arguments. You knew all about his home life, his childhood and his upbringing. He’d had a rough time of it, the grizzly truth unveiled to you between late-night kisses and midnights at the tower as he smoked. You were surprised he even possessed the limited emotional functions he did, unlike his brother. You were supposed to guide him, to help him see better, to love him right and show him the purity of it. 

He tugged on your hands, an excited smile on his face as he helped you out of the sheets. He found your denim skirt on the floor, holding it out for you and letting you balance on his shoulders as you wobbled into it. 

“How about the Lake, instead?”

At least there would be fewer people there. He nodded his head, swiping a kiss to your cheek as he mumbled a spell to set the bed off on making itself. “Whatever you want, baby.”

It would surely end badly, something or someone would send him into a spiral. But, until that happened, you wanted to soak up every second of that smile on his face, that you put there so easily. How anyone could think he was bad, when he smiled so sweetly, was beyond you.“Baby, wake up.” The words were mumbled tenderly into your ear, and you groaned a little at the hand gently shaking your shoulder. “Come on, pretty girl, open those eyes.”

“What, Matty? It’s the middle of the night.”

“I know, that’s why it’s the perfect time!” Excitement tinged his voice, and as you forced your eyelids open, you found him standing at the edge of your bed, wand lit up dimly, and your coat in his hand. “Get up, baby. We’re going for a walk.”

“Now?”

“Yes. You don’t think the stars and the moon are romantic? Isn’t there just something… better about the night?”

Your smile was against your will, sitting up slowly and swinging your feet out of the bed, suppressing a yawn. “You’re lucky I wore full pyjamas to bed tonight.”

“You mean I could’ve walked in here to find you naked?” He clasped a hand over his heart, letting out a pained groan. He handed you his wand to hold, before dropping to his knees before you. 

“No, you perv! I meant that I’m wearing full-leg pyjamas, not my shorts!”

He only snickered to himself, while navigating your trainers onto your feet and tying the laces up for you. Once they were secure, he took his wand back, sliding it into his back pocket and clasping your hands in his own. With a kiss on your lips, he wrapped the warm coat over your shoulders. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be, Matty.”

He grinned at that, taking your hand, and leading you through the silent halls. Twigs snapped under your feet as you crossed the courtyard together, giggling and shushing each other, and you had to admit that he was right. Both the adrenaline of it all, and the beauty of the scenery, made for the perfect blend of excitement and romance. 

As you cleared the school building and began to make your way out across the fields, Mattheo’s arm looped around your waist, supporting you through every dip and hole in the grass, never letting you so much as stumble. 

“Nearly there.” He whispered into the cold night air as you approached the quidditch grounds, the different house flags blowing gently in the summer breeze. 

“Nearly where? I thought we were just going for a walk.”

He didn’t reply, and only a couple of steps later, the barely concealed voices of several of his friends carried across the pitch towards you both. “Mattheo Riddle, I swear to Merlin, if you’ve brought me along on one of your ridiculous schemes—” You shrieked, cutting yourself off as one of the Weasley’s firecrackers shot past your head, between the two of you, and Theodore’s laughter echoed out, following it. 

“Oi, Nott, watch it. If that’d hit my girl, the next thing to be hit would be your face on the fuckin’ concrete.”

“Relax, she ducked! No harm, no foul. Right, principessa?” Theo smirked, seeming to appear from the shadows as he sparked his lighter, and brought the flame to the end of his cigarette. Lorenzo was there too, a bag over one shoulder that rattled suspiciously as he came towards the three of you, and your arms crossed protectively over your body. 

“Matty, what is this?”

“Don’t flirt with my girl in Italian.” Mattheo glared at his friend, but it soon melted away as he was handed the cigarette, and Theo tucked his hands into his pockets, appraising you. 

“This, bella, is revenge.”

“What did I just say about the Italian—?”

“Why do you need revenge?” Your words crossed Mattheo’s who only huffed, but remained quiet as he passed the cigarette beyond you to Enzo. Nobody answered, and your boyfriend shuffled from one foot to the other as your narrowed gaze turned on him. “Mattheo.”

“The Gryffindors were talking shot about our upcoming game, and McLaggen and his mates thought it’d be funny to charm all our jerseys pink for practice, so we’re just getting even.”

“Why do I get the feeling that whatever you’re about to do is far beyond ‘even’? Pink jerseys don’t seem equal to… whatever you’re doing here. I want no part of it.” You spun on your heel, but didn’t get very far, not even a single step, before Mattheo was wrapping an arm around your waist, and pulling you into himself. You jabbed a finger into his chest, putting the full heat of your wrath into your stare, “You said we were going for a walk!”

“We are! We did. Look, this is gonna’ be fun, you’ll see. I know how much that one Gryffindor chick has been pissing you off lately. I'm getting revenge for you too, here!” He cupped your cheek, running his thumb over your lips, before planting a kiss there. “I’m avenging you, baby.”

He took your hand, pulling you along behind him with the kind of infectious excitement that made you smile, even when you didn’t want to. Sitting down on one of the benches, you watched with an amused smile at the way he and his friends whispered conspiratorially amongst themselves as they thought through just what they might do. 

That innocent adoration you had didn’t last long.

You’d been expecting a few stink bombs in lockers and foul-smelling potions tipped into the shower drains that would stink for weeks. Maybe even a hex or two for inconvenience. A shriek burst past your lips as another of Theodore’s rockets shot past your head, screeching as it went and your hands clasped over your ears. 

He was letting them off, inside. Glitter exploded everywhere, the few flaming pieces of ash sprinkling down eroded holes in the towels and jerseys hanging on hooks around the locker room. Glass shattered somewhere, and Theo all but howled with laughter as the rocket shot off into the night sky to fizzle out with a colourful bang.

Enzo was spray-painting something on the walls in the shower room, following his rude and physically impossible message spray-painted on the inside of the door that he was still snickering to himself about. 

Mattheo was systematically unlocking all of the cupboards, and placing a different bad-luck hex on every single piece of equipment. After leaving a sporadic spiral-dive hex on one of the brooms and putting it back, you’d had enough. 

Sweeping your hair out of your eyes, you stood, making your way over to his side. “Matty…”

“Yeah, baby?” He was distracted as he mumbled his response, careful wand-work as he charmed one of the beater’s bats to flop like wet spaghetti every time they tried to hit something. 

“Mattheo.”

At your tone, and the use of his full name, he looked up. He took in the nervous expression on your face, the sad and pouty frown on your lips, and sighed. “What’s the matter?”

“Don’t you think this is a bit much?”

“They were talking shit about us!”

“You're risking really hurting someone, though!” You gestured around, from his handiwork to the broken window and glass fragments on the floor. “You’re actually damaging school property!”

“A few spells will have it cleaned up in no time. Don’t be dramatic.”

You gaped at him for a second, before walking away, turning your back to him and plopping down back onto the bench with a huff. Behind you, you heard him kick something, swearing under his breath, before he stepped back into your sight. When you didn’t look up at him, he dropped down to his knees, forcing himself into your line of vision. 

He has his puppy dog eyes on, and pressed a kiss to each of your hands as he took them in his own. “I didn’t mean it like that, pretty girl. I just meant… you don’t get it. This is what we do. You’re just too sweet for this, you wouldn't hurt a fly. But this could be so much worse, it’s all a bit of fun, just trust me, yeah? I’m getting them back, for me, and for you.”

“But it’s a lot. And I never asked you to get even for me.” You whispered, and he nodded. 

“You don’t have to ask. I protect you, that’s what I do. It’s you and me, baby. For life.” You softened a little at that, and he noticed, his smile growing again as he knelt up, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. “I won’t do anymore, how’s that? I’ll round up the boys, and we’ll get out of—”

Just then, voices flickered through the room. The angry, panicked shouting of at least six different people, rapidly got louder as they neared the space you occupied. Enzo clambered up onto one of the window ledges, and peered out of the broken glass. “Oh, shit. They know. ‘Least ten Lions, coming this way. And fast. Fucking go!”

The first spell bounced through the open glass, sending shards flying as it caught the last of the jagged spikes still on the frame, just as Enzo ducked out of the way. Theo scrabbled past, and out of the back door, Enzo quickly following, and you jumped to your feet as Mattheo did. 

Another spell burst through, bouncing on the locked door, and the muffled voices of your accomplices felt a million miles away as fear struck through your body. The door rattled again, the lock creaking as the half-arsed spell they’d sealed it with threatened to give way. The pounding of your heart in your chest was deafening, roaring in your ears—

Then, a hand clamped down on yours, pulling you along. “Baby girl, let’s go! Come on, what are you doing?”

Mattheo tugged on your hand, like a splash of cold water the jolt he made snapped you to your senses. You stumbled after him, staring at his bouncing curls and the flush of his cheeks as he looked at you, guiding you out of the backdoor and into the night. Stumbling down the hill, the two of you ran so fast you almost fell several times, angry shouts following you out into the night as flashes and flickers of bright spells whizzed past you constantly. 

You let Mattheo guide you, running until your lungs burned and your chest ached from your pounding heart, but you’d lost them. You’d lost Theo and Enzo, too. Silence shrouded you both as you finally came to a stop, only the lapping water at the shore of the lake and both of your soft pants to break the heavy quiet.

He turned to you, one hand lifting to tuck some hair behind your ear, and you glared at him as he leaned in to kiss one of your no-doubt flushed cheeks. 

“You are so beautiful.” He whispered, knuckles still tracing up and down your jaw as he stared at you under the moonlight. 

“I’m so mad at you for that. I hate running, and panicking, and vandalising. All the things I hate, you just wrapped ‘em up in one.”

He smiled something wicked, and leaned in, to bump his nose with your own. “You love me, though.”

“Debatable, right now.” Your scoff was lost as he pressed soft kisses to your lips, coaxing you into remembering just how much you loved him. You were ashamed to say that it worked, as you parted your mouth a little more to reciprocate. 

You felt his smile pressed to your mouth as he did, that hand on your cheek smoothing out, fingers in your hair as he cupped your head, and angled your face for a deeper kiss. 

You were once again both panting by the time he pulled away, satisfied and smitten. 

“Come on, my angry girl. Let’s go for that walk now, yeah? Just me and you for a stroll around the lake.”

You winced as another cracking sounded out, the echo of Mattheo’s fist against the cocky Ravenclaw’s jaw had your stomach rolling. A boy you’d never much cared about. He was entitled and arrogant, and tended to run his mouth a little too much. He thought he was the best thing to grace the halls of Hogwarts, and a blessing to womankind, and you’d caught his eyes on you a couple of times. 

Of course, you’d never mentioned as much to Mattheo, in hopes of sparing him this exact situation. Mattheo didn’t take kindly to lingering gazes, and he didn’t tolerate leering ones at all. He was protective, overprotective, and he was a little bit crazy. He was also in love, and in his opinion, the cat-call the Ravenclaw had given to you and the choice words he’d accompanied it had crossed a line.

And they said Ravenclaws were the smart ones.

So, Mattheo hadn't hesitated. He’d dropped your hand, curled it into a fist, and swung on the boy before he’d even finished smirking at your shocked look. 

Now, you were sighing, as he took the Ravenclaw down to the ground, uncaring of the blow to his shoulder as the two rolled over the stone floors. Scuffling and throwing blows, a crowd formed around them, jostling you endlessly from side to side. He was winning, as always, beating the poor boy into the same blue as his house banners, and no amount of pleading on your behalf to just drop it was going to stop him now. 

You should’ve been halfway to Hogsmeade by now. You’d never make your reservation, and you’d gotten yourself all dressed up for nothing. Hours wasted on hair and make-up and picking out the perfect outfit for this date, all for Mattheo’s impulsive temper and one gross creep to ruin it.

The two continued to brawl, fists slamming, feet kicking, and blood splattering as the crowd cheered and shouted so loud it was deafening. You’d learnt it the hard way a long time ago that you couldn't do anything to stop him now, not when he got into this state, without risking getting hurt yourself. All you could do was wait, and hope.

Finally, the Gryffindor prefect stepped in. He was a sturdy man, broad-shouldered and thick-muscled, as was his friend, as the two grabbed for one of Mattheo’s arms each, pulling him off and to his feet. Blood streamed from his nose, and he grinned, pink tainting his teeth before he spat at the boy curling up on the floor. 

“You be fucking glad they stopped me, because I wouldn't have!” 

“For fuck’s sake…” You muttered, the heat of embarrassment crawling up your cheeks as several gazes fell on you. Elbowing his way through the crowd was an equally red Professor Slughorn, but his flush was from anger. 

“Riddle! Of course, it’s a Riddle. You can take yourself to detention.”

A whine slipped free from your throat as you crossed your arms over your chest. Mattheo attempted to shake off the two prefects, wiping his nose with his sleeve and wincing at the feeling. He shrugged, “I can’t tonight, professor. I have plans.”

“I don’t care! Detention, now!” 

Stepping over the Ravenclaw still whimpering at your feet, Mattheo smiled what you assumed was supposed to be a seductive grin at you as you neared him. With the split of his lip, the stain of dried blood on his face, and the splotchy swelling along his nose and jaw, it didn’t quite hit the mark anymore. You were too angry to fall for it. 

“So you’re bailing on our date, again?” Your lip wobbled, arms crossed your chest as you tried to glare at him, but the stinging in your throat betrayed you as your voice cracked. 

“Don’t cry, baby, you did your make-up so nice. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” He leaned in, lowering his voice in an attempt for intimacy, despite the Gryffindors tugging on his arms. “I love you.”

You sighed, but released your anger, cupping his face softly so as not to aggravate the painful patches further. “I love you too.”

His lips barely brushed your own before Slughorn was grabbing him by his collar, and yanking him away through the crowds towards detention. Once he was gone, the cowering boy on the floor dragged himself to his feet, his friends hauling him away, and he made the wise decision not to even glance in your direction. 

Even as the crowd parted and you made your way back to your dorm, the lingering feeling of anger petered out to immense disappointment. 

Your reflection was frowning as you stared at yourself in the mirror, pretty outfit and stunning makeup, all going to waste while your boyfriend rotted the night away in detention. 

Detention. 

The same place where your relationship had started, and a ridiculous idea began to root itself in your mind. Tipping out the contents of your school bag, your books and quills scattered across the bedding, and you repacked it with what you’d need instead. 

With a fresh spritz of perfume and a new swipe of lipgloss, you left your dorm, heels clicking against the stone as you hurried yourself along on your mission. The doors were spelled against sneaking out of detention, but sneaking in was surely a different case. 

Your suspicions were confirmed as you pushed the door open, the loud creak echoing through the room, but you were granted entry as you stepped inside. The door slammed shut behind you, and yet, Flitwick didn’t so much as flinch from where he was snoozing atop the desk at the front of the classroom. Mattheo watched with widening eyes and tissues pressed to his nose as you walked through the aisles and took a seat beside him at the desk he’d claimed as his own. 

“What’re you doin’ here, baby?”

You scoffed at his muffled voice, swinging your bag off your shoulder and onto the desk, before sitting down. Taking his hands in your own, you pulled them back, inspecting the damage he’d made to his pretty face. “It’s date night. I wasn’t going to let you sit in here all alone, when I put effort into looking this good.”

Your whispered words made him grin, and you took the tissues from his hands, dabbling softly at the last of the blood. When it was gone, you rifled through your bag instead, producing a small vial of swirling purple liquid. Upon seeing it, he groaned. “Oh, no, I hate those. They taste gross and musty.”

“Maybe if you hadn't done this to yourself, you wouldn't have to take it.” You uncapped the vial, and as the smell drifted to him, he gagged. You raised it to his lips, and he offered a sullen look but parted them for you to tip it into his mouth. Swallowing it came with a grimace, and you wiped your thumb over his lips to get rid of the sticky residue it left. Within seconds, the swelling on his jaw was going down, the cut on his nose was healing over, and the nasty bruising under his eyes was fading away. “That’s better. My pretty boy is back.”

He blushed at that but offered a cheeky grin, and leaned in to kiss you sweetly. Before his lips could meet yours, you swerved, and he grunted unhappily as his mouth landed on your cheek instead. 

“You’re not kissing me while you still taste like that gross potion.”

“Typical.” He mumbled, but left a few more peppered kisses along your jaw. You worked as he did, laying out the various snacks you’d brought with you along the table, and as he caught sight of the chocolate frog, an excited gasp slipped free. He snatched the frog up quickly, tearing off the foil wrapper and snapping off a leg. 

He lifted it to your lips, always offering you the first bite, and you let him feed it to you while he watched on. Happy you’d taken it, he snapped off another, dropping the chunk into his mouth and chewing happily. 

“God, I love you so fucking much,” He sighed as he finished eating, finally leaning in to claim this kiss he had been denied earlier. “I’m gonna’ marry you someday.”

“Yeah, and you’ll probably get yourself arrested on the big day.” Your voice was bitter but your smile was the same as whenever he talked of his plans or your joint future. He knew you were bluffing too, closing the gap between you both once again, and nipping gently on your bottom lip. 

“I always come back to you though, baby.”

That made you kiss him properly because you had no retort to offer. It was true, he always found his way back to you. He was crazy, reckless, and impulsive, but he was in love with you, and he didn’t care to hide it. 

Not from the others in the detention room, not from the people in the halls, not from anyone on this earth. It was the two of you together, he’d never leave you behind or let you down, and you could trust him in that. 

So, maybe he did prove ‘em right. But he also proved you right. Mattheo Riddle was so much more than they all said he was. He was loyal and loving, and he was yours.

[troublesomesnitch]

Meeting Vhagar - Drabble

Aemond x Wife!Reader

Much to your dismay, Prince Aemond insists on bringing your little son to Vhagar. Set sometime during the Dance.

Contents: Just a little practice thing... Dad!Aemond, Targaryen parenting, subtle fluff. Little bit of subtle angst too. No filth this time..

Words: 3000, and very sloppily proof read.

The carriage can only take you so far as to the Iron Gate. 

Beyond its massive doors, the Rosby Road winds North, poorly maintained and full of potholes, as it is the shortest of the main roads, and thus the least important. It is not as busy as others, and the gate is not guarded as well - clearly, as the men who should be protecting it are presently engaged in a game of cards, laid out on top of a large, flat rock.

That is where the driver will wait, but it is not your destination. 

There is another little trail. One that runs in the opposite direction, scarcely used and partially hidden, visible only to those who know it. No horse or wagon can make the journey, and there is no option but to walk - first along a narrow, trodden path, and then further still, down treacherous steps, carved into the very rock the city rests upon. Past the watchtower, and across the Northern beach, to the vast caves of Maegor the Cruel, where Vhagar has made her nest.

You walk alone, just the two of you. The prince in his coat and boots, and yourself in attire much less suited for the occasion. Fine shoes, fine skirts, and with your little son cradled in your arms. 

The gentle rocking of the carriage has lulled him to sleep. Four months old, he is, and a source of such joy that your poor heart can scarcely contain it. From his first high-pitched cry when you brought him into the world - oh, the pains of labour were all but forgotten, as was the threat of the raging war. And when the prince came to see his son, you could hardly even bear to let him hold him. 

He wanted to bring the boy much sooner, but both you and the dowager queen staunchly put your foot down against that. Children should not be brought outside the home until they have at least lived through the first perilous weeks, and possibly even their first fever. And even then, most would argue, they have no business being around ferocious animals. 

“I don’t like it,” you say, for the umpteenth time, taking the hand offered to you by the prince to help you cross a treacherous stretch. “It is mad, bringing an infant to such a beast - ” 

“Vhagar should know him,” he says, steadfast and determined. As he has done whenever you voiced your concern. 

It does nothing at all to calm your nerves. But it is his most compelling argument, and the only reason you have allowed this lunacy in the first place. So the dragon would recognise the boy as his, and as one of her own. So she would know to protect him, if - something should happen. 

You make it halfway across the pebbled beach before the prince pauses. And you do too, lifting your gaze to follow his line of sight; see what he is looking at. 

An enormous, greyish mass, some yards away, that at first you thought was a moss-grown rock, or years of washed up seaweed. But the mass makes a rumbling noise and begins to shift and lift itself, slowly and carefully, as though with much effort. Part of it becomes a leg, another part unfurls into a great wing, and the rock nearest to you becomes a head, with a mouth full of jagged teeth, and two eyes opening slowly. Amber in colour, and with slitted pupils staring straight at you. 

“She can sense me,” the prince declares, with no small amount of pride, lifting his chin and straightening his back. 

You, however, are paralysed, utterly shocked by her vastness. You have never seen Vhagar this close before, and though you knew of her impressive size, it is one thing to see her soaring across the sky, and quite another to be right next to her, unprotected and vulnerable.

It seems to you that the span of her wings could cover half the city, that entire buildings could fit in her mouth. And certainly, she could end all three of you with her fiery breath, or with a single swipe of her claw or her massive tail. One wrong move, even if accidental, even if she did not mean to - you would all be dead. 

“Come,” the prince says, pushing at the small of your back. But you stall, digging in your heels, frozen in place at the sight of her. 

“I’ve changed my mind,” you stammer. “We should go back - it is not safe…”

The prince gives an overbearing, if somewhat irritated sigh. 

“Dragons are loyal beasts,” he reassures. “Vhagar is loyal to me, she obeys me - ”

“She is a beast,” you hiss, hugging your drowsy son closer to your chest. “She cannot be trusted. It is too dangerous - I won’t let you bring him any closer - ”

Prince Aemond does not like to be challenged. He turns around to look at you coolly, his voice low and scornful as he speaks. 

“Is your opinion of me so unfavourable, wife, that you think I would risk harm to my own son?”

“No,” you respond, quietly, but truthfully. Since you were married, your opinion of the prince has only risen, slowly but surely. And it continues to do so, still - though perhaps not right now. “I don’t like it - ”

“Mhm - so you said,” your husband says dryly, all but wrenching the swaddled boy from your arms. 

He does not complain, the boy. Prince Aemond comes to visit often, at least once a day, and sometimes more. He sits with the child, reads to him, lets him fall asleep in his arms - not for very long each time, but it is at least enough for the little boy to recognise his father’s low voice and stern face as something safe and comfortable. As is evident from the way he now settles against the prince’s leather-clad chest, tangling his little fist into a lock of his hair. 

The beast remains still, pensive as her rider approaches, her serpent’s eyes fixed on the thing in his arms, on what he is bringing her. Your most precious treasure, your life’s very purpose, completely at the mercy of the greatest dragon in the world. 

You might have felt more at ease if the soft, sparse hair on his head had been silver like his father’s, but alas, it is not. It is exactly like yours, and only the bright violet of his eyes gives away his true inheritance. 

And that seems like too little a thing for such a large creature to notice. 

Prince Aemond calls out in that strange language of his, with the open vowels and the rolling R’s. It is beautiful, especially in his mouth, and the dragon responds at once, contorting herself to let him touch her wrinkled neck with affection. Which is a strange sight, but what is even stranger is the way she grumbles - as though she likes it. He speaks to her as if she was another person, in long, full sentences that are much too complicated for you to even attempt to understand. There is only one word you can make out, for the sole reason that he says it twice - yoreliatzeh, or yorelatzya, or something akin to that. You haven’t a clue as to what it means. 

Vhagar snorts once, and the prince steps back to give her room to move, to rise up onto her legs and bring her head closer, her nose almost touching his hip. While you stand at a distance, staring at the utterly bizarre scene playing out in front of you. A fearsome, vicious beast, sniffing the child like a dog would. Gently and carefully, only she is so big that each of her cautious breaths is like a small gust of wind, making your husband’s hair billow about his face. When she makes a grunting noise, he carefully unwraps some of the swaddlings, holding the child up to let her see him better, smell him better. 

He is bright, your darling boy, and curious, like all babes and children. His eyes are wide as they take in Vhagar’s scaly form, and he gives a soft squeal of surprise or wonder, kicking his little feet under the blankets. Reaching his arm towards the beast's massive head, her massive teeth -

“Aemond, please - ” you gasp, clutching your hands to your throat. 

The prince turns his head to give you a stern look, one that clearly shows he is running out of patience. And maybe this time it is justified, because your fearful outburst startles the boy, who begins to squirm unhappily in his father’s arms. Fussing and whimpering; a sound that is as painful to you as salt to an open wound. 

“Bring him to me,” you plead, “can’t you see that he is frightened - ” 

“He is frightened because you are frightened,” the prince says, as soft spoken as always, but with a hint of something sharp underneath.

He cradles the boy closer to his chest, bouncing him gently, holding his head and murmuring soothing words. Exactly as you would do, and to the same effect. It calms him down, and his big, round eyes start darting around again, taking in his surroundings. The dragon, the grey sea, the fine silver clasps on his father’s clothes. It does seem that the latter intrigues him the most. 

Vhagar lifts her neck and tilts her head just slightly, seemingly very interested in the child, in this tiny little creature; the way he moves his little limbs, and his soft coos and noises. There is an almost… thoughtful look in her eyes, or at the very least a curious one. 

It makes you wonder about the extent of her perception. Whether she truly knows that this is Aemond’s child, that it came from him, from his body, his flesh. If she can sense it somehow, through the bond they purportedly share, or if she understood it when he spoke to her. 

How intelligent is a dragon? Are they like dogs or horses, able to learn the meaning of certain words, but not the full breadth of language? Or do they think as people, with nuance and emotion, and a mind as vivid as your own. 

You do not know. You suppose no one really does. 

“Come,” the prince calls, reaching his arm towards you, beckoning you closer. However, a single glance at Vhagar, whose mighty gaze is now focused on you, is enough to inspire disobedience in even the most well-behaved wife.

“I would really rather not - ”

“She must know the both of you,” he insists. 

“Is that - necessary?” you squirm, wringing your hands, very much aware that you are not a dragon rider, that you haven’t a drop of Valyrian blood. “Vhagar has no reason to think fondly of me…”

The prince scoffs. 

“Are you not the mother of my child?” he says. “Now, come.” 

You must go to him. He is your lord husband, and he is a prince, and such is the way of things. But you are not at all glad to, and you walk with shaky, reluctant steps, gripping onto his elbow and cowering behind him like a frightened child. 

You close your eyes when the dragon lowers her head once more, bringing it towards you. A sudden, low-pitched growl makes your heart tremble, but the prince speaks a soft command. Lykirī, Vhagar. Lykirī.

It has a calming effect on you too. As does the arm he keeps outstretched in front of you - solely for your comfort, you assume, as it would make no difference whatsoever, should Vhagar decide that she does not like you. But you appreciate the gesture nonetheless.

The air is warm, this close to her, and your skirts move around your legs when she breathes, slowly and deeply, while the prince speaks to her in soft tones. That word again, the one from before, and many others. You know the words for wife, for king, for father, brother, sister, even for dragon, but he says none of those now, so you have no guess as to what he is telling her. Or if she understands. Or what he would call you, if not his wife. 

This woman is my - spouse? lady? lover?

You do have a kind of love for him, and sometimes you think he does for you, too. Sometimes. One can never be sure of anything with the prince, who keeps himself so closely guarded. Even after more than a year of marriage. Even now that you have given him a child. 

The birth went mercifully well, but your recovery was long, and he has only recently begun to come to your bed again. And so far, only a handful of times. The first time, it was so painful for you that the act could not be completed, and the second time, he finished so quickly that it barely even counts. The third was better. Pleasurable for both of you, but still strange after going so long without it - at least for you. It is both likely and possible that the prince satisfied his urges elsewhere while your body was indisposed. You do not know. Nor do you wish to. 

The ground shifts beneath your feet, and the heat around you lessens, as does the heavy smell of burned flesh and brimstone, the very same one that so often clings to your husband’s clothes. When you open your eyes it is to the sight of Vhagar, settled onto her belly, her head laid atop her claws. Calm and docile, and with a deep rumble coming from her chest - one that is probably a sign of contentment, even if it sounds utterly terrifying. 

“Touch her,” the prince commands, giving a gentle push to your back. “You have nothing to fear, touch her.” 

It is quite clear that Vhagar is unruffled by your presence, that she is resting. But with her eyes heavy and half-closed, it makes her look so menacing, so evil - even though you know that evil does not exist inherently in any beast. Only in those who train it. 

You draw in a steadying breath, gathering up your courage, reaching your hand out - only to then think better of it and let it fall. 

“I am afraid to,” you whisper.

The prince sighs. But his hand closes gently around yours, bringing it to rest on the side of her nose, first the tips of your fingers, and then your whole palm. 

It is like nothing else you have ever felt, her scales. You always imagined that a dragon’s skin would feel like leather, but Vhagar’s skin is so much tougher, so much rougher, like running your hand over little rocks. And she is warm - so warm, as though a fire is always burning somewhere in her throat. 

She does not object at all to your touch, even when the prince withdraws his own hand, leaving only yours. Only you and Vhagar. The largest, oldest being in the world. 

To think, the things she has seen. The conquest, the Dornish Wars, the very founding of the realm of the Seven Kingdoms. Dozens of castles have crumbled in her fire, and thousands of people have perished, and she has fought and won hundreds of battles; torn through stone, rock and earth as though it was boiled jelly. 

It is at once terrifying and romantic, like something from a fairytale, or stories of ancient times. A creature of such myth and legend that you almost feel as though you should bow down to her, as one does before a great matriarch.

Vhagar the Conqueror. Queen of all Dragons. 

She closes her eyes when you draw back. 

“He might ride her too, some day,” the prince says quietly. Wistfully. 

“But dragons only have one rider - ” you protest, cutting yourself off when you realise what he meant. What he left unsaid. 

This is war. The realm is at war. Death is everywhere; at the end of a blade, in the point of an arrow. And if not on the field of battle, then in tainted water or plague-ridden camps; empty bellies or festering wounds.

“You shouldn’t say such things,” you mutter, looking down at your feet. Your dirtied shoes. 

The prince does not answer. A heavy mood has settled over the rocky beach, something vast and bleak and empty, only compounded by the surroundings. The colourless sky, the sombre crashing of waves. Even Vhagar gives a doleful sigh, as though she too is weary of what is to come.

She has been the prince’s companion since childhood. He was born to the queen, but Vhagar made him what he is, made him ruthless, made him brutally ambitious. Made him Aemond One-Eye, Aemond the Kinslayer. Prince Regent, Protector of the Realm. She has known him boy and man, as well as any, and better than most. She has known him in life, and she may yet know him in death.

You push that thought away as forcefully as your mind allows. You shouldn’t think such things. 

A coo from your son breaks the tension, and his eyes turn to the sky, where a large heron is flapping its wings. The afternoon is turning to evening, and soon the bell will ring for supper - something warm and comforting, you hope. You are cold, your breasts feel sore, and you have most certainly had enough excitement for one day. For several days, in fact.

“Can we go, please,” you breathe, looking up at your husband with wide, pleading eyes. 

“She is tired,” he says, with a soft glance at Vhagar’s terrifying face, and a gentle touch to her side. “Yes, we should.”

—

You walk slower on the way back. Uphill, with sore feet, and your boy now fast asleep in your arms. Safe and snug where he belongs. 

“My Prince,” you begin, sweet and innocent. “What does… yoreliatzeh mean?”

There is a sly little smile on his face when you look at him, a self-assured look in his remaining eye.

“Jorrāeliarza,” he corrects, with an artful pause before he continues. As though to keep you in suspense. “It means dear. Or… beloved.”

If he sees the sudden blush on your face, he does not let on. 

“Jorālitzeh.”

“No,” he says. “Jor-rāe-liar-za.”

“Jor-rāe-liar-za,” you repeat, trying your very best to mimic the exact movements of his mouth, the way he gently rolls his tongue. “Jorrāeliarza.”

“Better,” he nods, and then you round a corner, just in time to see the guards hastily hide their cards away, and the driver shuffling back towards the carriage, eagerly shoving his winnings into a pocket. 

Jorrāeliarza. Jorrāeliarza. Jorrāeliarza. 

Dear. Beloved. 

You like that very much.  

Please feel free to come into my asks or DMs with critique of my fics! Constructive is preferred, but not required.

Tags. @arcielee, @targaryen-madness, @aemondsbabygirl, @qyburnsghost, @blackswxnn

I am a mess with the tagging, I'm so sorry if I forgot or wrongly tagged anyone. Let me know, I will fix it.

[yuujispinkhair]

Boyfie Sukuna picking you up from your late shift

A while ago, a sweet anon sent me an ask about protective boyfie Sukuna picking up reader from a late shift, and I loved it so much because I would have really needed him too when I was still doing late shifts. So here is a little drabble about Kuna picking us up from work. I hope you enjoy it 💗

Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female). Fluff. Word Count 900. Mentions of smoking. Minors don't interact. Dividers @/benkeibear

"Ok, let's do this," you mutter to yourself as you push open the heavy back door, trying to hype yourself up and steeling yourself for the darkness that will await you outside of your workplace at this time.

You hate your late shifts when you're the only one left in the building and have to use the exit in the back. Your pulse already speeds up at the thought of having to walk down the dimly lit back alley to reach the main street and the subway station.

But you have no other choice, and so you step out the door and into the dark alley. And immediately jump when a low voice drawls,

"Hey, princess."

You dart around with a hand clutched to your chest and your eyes wide, even as your brain begins to register that you know this voice. And, of course, your gaze lands on a very familiar tall, muscular figure with a beautiful, tattooed face and slicked-back pink hair.

Sukuna.

He is leaning casually against the brick wall, one hand shoved into the pocket of his black jeans, the other bringing a half-smoked cigarette to his lips. He smirks around the cigarette, maroon eyes looking amusedly at you.

"Did I scare you?"

You glare at him, even as you feel a huge relief wash over you. Relief and that all-too-familiar fluttery feeling in your stomach that you always get when you see your boyfriend.

"Kuna! What the... yes, you scared me! What are you doing here?"

Sukuna exhales slowly, watching you through the cigarette smoke with those beautiful cat-like eyes as he shrugs and smirks that devilishly attractive smirk,

"Making sure my girl gets home safely, of course."

You can't stop the big, happy smile from spreading over your face. This side of your boyfriend always makes you so weak for him. This sweet side of Sukuna that contradicts everything the people who told you he wouldn't be good for you said.

Yes, your boyfriend has a bad boy reputation. But yet, here he is, picking you up after your late shift without you having to ask for it. So protective and caring when it comes to you.

"I'm glad you are here, baby."

You smile and get on your tiptoes to kiss Sukuna's tattooed cheek, feeling the anxiety you felt earlier leave you completely. When Sukuna is with you, you know you are safe.

Sukuna grins as he flicks his cigarette away and wraps one strong arm around you to pull you against his tall body. His lips brush against your forehead in a quick but tender kiss.

"Let's go home, princess. Dinner is waiting for you."

"You already cooked too? Are you practicing to become a househusband, Kuna?"

You grin up at Sukuna playfully, and he laughs, but he sounds very pleased when he replies in that sexy, velvety voice,

"For you? Always."

He winks at you and offers you one of his muscular, tattooed arms as if he is a knight or an actor in a 1950s rom-com. And you take Sukuna's arm and hold on to him as you walk down the dimly lit alley together.

Usually, you are scared to walk down this narrow, dark street. But not tonight. Not when you are holding onto Sukuna's arm, your hand wrapped tightly around his bulging tattooed biceps, his tall, strong body so reassuringly brushing against your side.

The dark alley and the nightly city have lost their scariness now that Sukuna is with you and tells you about the dinner he cooked for you and how he beat his brother at a video game they were playing earlier.

You know you are safe when Sukuna is with you. Even the two sinister-looking guys loitering around at the end of the alley quickly leave after casting one look at Sukuna's tattooed face and his tall, muscular body.

You smile and snuggle against Sukuna's warm body, thinking that there are definitely certain benefits to dating a bad boy.

You reach Sukuna's car shortly after, and he holds open the passenger door for you while smirking that sexy, boyish smirk, always acting like an old-fashioned gentleman when it comes to you.

You watch him while he drives, one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on your thigh, interlacing his long tattooed fingers with your smaller ones.

And you can't stop smiling from ear to ear. Sukuna cooked dinner for you. He came here to pick you up. And you know that he's turning up the heating in his car just for you. He runs on the hot side and doesn't need it. But he's doing it for you, just like he is doing so many little and big things for you all the time. Anything for you, without you ever having to ask for it. Because he loves you.

It makes your heart feel so full.

You lean across the center console at the first red light, pressing another sweet kiss to Sukuna's cheek. But he turns his face so your lips end up on his. You feel his grin against your lips as his large hand captures your chin, cupping it firmly, holding you in place so he can deepen the kiss, licking into your mouth with a few playful flicks of his pierced tongue before he pulls away again.

You smile, your fingers tightening around Sukuna's hand, which is back in your lap,

"Thank you for picking me up, baby."

You see the corners of Sukuna's lips lift in a matching smile even while his gaze is fixed on the street before him, and his voice sounds playful but warm at the same time,

"You're welcome, princess. From now on, I'll pick you up every time you have a late shift. There's no way you're walking through dark alleys without me."

Protective boyfie Sukuna makes me SWOON aaaahhhh. Honestly, this gave me such a feeling of safety. In my old job, I had to do late shifts, too, and I was so scared walking down to the train station and waiting for my train because all those sinister-looking men were already starting to crawl out of their holes, and I felt very unsafe there. Protective boyfie Sukuna would have made me feel SO safe.

I hope this could give you comfort, too 💗💗 Thank you so much for reading!! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.

[rememberwren]

Just a Ghoap/military!fem!reader little sex pollen drabble for the anon who requested it ages ago :) dub con, fingering. Reader is carried by Ghost but otherwise featureless and without description.

-

Ghost can take the screams. He can take the cries, the pleas, the begging. He does take it, planting himself outside the singular bedroom door of the safehouse they’re holed up in until the storm passes, his dark eyes watching Johnny pace a hole in the goddamn floor, ready to come between you and the Sergeant should needs must.

But it’s the silence that breaks him.

It’s even caught Johnny’s attention. The man stops his pacing and stands facing the bedroom, his face somber, both of their ears cocked toward the door as they listen for any sign of you on the other side. Maybe the wet sounds of you fucking yourself on your own fingers. Maybe more begging—begging for Ghost or Johnny or both at once to come in and stuff you full with their cocks.

No sound comes.

“Fuck it,” Ghost says, beginning to strip. “I’m going in there.”

“The hell you are,” Johnny says, stepping into Ghost’s space. He points a finger towards your pointed silence. “She’s been compromised; she cannot consent!”

“She’s in there dying, Johnny,” Ghost says, the sound of ripping velcro loud in the quiet of the house. “She needs to get fucked or she’ll die. I’ll take the fucking discharge.”

“She’ll hate you for this.”

“She’ll be alive to do it; that’s good enough for me.”

Johnny grips his bare arm once he’s stripped out of his kit, fingertips digging into scarred skin. “You’re not going in there without me. If one of us has to do it, then the other has to help him keep his head, aye? You’ll do no more than what you have to do to keep her alive.”

Ghost brushes off Johnny’s touch, something which is normally welcome. He’d break Johnny’s wrist for suggesting otherwise if he didn’t think Johnny might need both hands for what’s to come.

When they unlock and open the door to the bedroom the silence is near eerie. You’re not on the bed where they left you, and it takes a moment for their eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room and find you laying on the floor beside the bed, like you had rolled out of it or fallen in your attempts to make it to the door. Your body is still except for the bone-deep shivers that wrack your figure. Ghost goes to your side and rolls you over onto your back, puts a hand to your forehead and withdraws from the way your skin burns with fever.

“Go start the shower. Tepid, Johnny. Not cold,” Ghost instructs him.

“Aye,” says Johnny, rushing into the tiny adjoined bathroom. The sound of water follows.

“Come on,” Ghost mutters to you softly. He tries to work his hand between your legs, but they are clamped shut tightly, the muscles seized up. It reminds him too much of the stiffness of a dead body. Instead he begins the arduous work of stripping you down, unlacing your boots, working your pants down your wide hips and thighs. It’s good enough.

Johnny reappears. “Shower’s ready. How is she?”

“Brain’s turning into a nice golden chip,” Ghost mutters, standing and hauling you up with him. You’re heavier than you look, especially when your body refuses to go limp in his arms. He steps into the bathroom and takes brief stock of it: the small, dirty porcelain tub, the shower faucet that is more of a dribble than a spray. He climbs into the tub with his clothes on and lays with you, both your bodies filling it to the brim as the cool water rains down on your figures.

Johnny kneels at the tubside. “What’s she need?”

“To cum,” Ghost says. He tries to work his hand between your thighs again, but your body actively fights against him, muscles trembling from the strain. At last he can work his fingers between your legs and he finds you sodden, soaked, dripping from the burning heat of your core. All he has to do is brush his fingers over the swollen knot of your clit and your body seizes against him, your jaw unclenching around a shriek as you cum for the first time. You arch against him like a cat, groaning like the frantic touch is the best thing you’ve ever felt. Pure pleasure to your frying synapses.

“Jesus,” Johnny mutters.

“Good girl,” Ghost mutters, unsure if you can even hear him. You’re still fighting against him, but not as much—or perhaps your body is growing tired, weak. He can work his hand between your thighs now, gathering your slick onto his three middlemost fingers and dragging the wetness up over your aching clit, rubbing in soft, rapid circles. This time when you cum, your knees snap open wide, cracking against the sides of the porcelain tub as your hips thrust upwards, chasing his fingers. The sounds that pour from your mouth combined with the way you writhe against him has his cock hardening against your back. Ghost takes even, measured breaths, trying to leave his body behind and focus on your own.

Johnny is fairing no better, shifting on his knees, cock pressed against the side of the porcelain tub. He reaches a hand down and adjusts himself, but lingers too long, until it’s impossible to call it anything but what it is: playing with himself.

A groan rips from your throat, forming syllables, nonsensical. You roll in Ghost’s grasp, your clothes clinging to your wet skin until your clothed breasts are pressed to his chest. Your eyes are open now but so frighteningly empty, glossy with fever and bloodshot. Your gaze doesn’t focus on him as you struggle to grind yourself against the hardening tent in his pants, fingers stiff and useless even as you grab at and cling to him.

“Give her some fingers,” Johnny insists. Your head turns toward the sound, and you scramble out of the tub, flinging water everywhere as you push him backwards off balance, pin him to the ceramic tile floor, and grind your cunt against his cock.

“Fu-uck,” Johnny groans, hands finding your hips. He stills you, the muscles in his arms straining as you put all your strength into defying him. “Lass, you don’t know what you’re doing—!”

Ghost climbs out of the tub, dripping wet. He turns the water off—hopeful that your fever is already beginning to abate now that they are giving in to your body’s needs—and loops an arm around your waist, wrenching you off of Johnny. Some help his Sergeant is. (Ghost had expected him to be about this useless.)

“Sit up,” Ghost barks. Johnny can still follow orders, sitting up and scooting back until his back is braced against the wall. Ghost puts you between his legs, facing away from him. “Hold her open.”

Johnny grips your thighs, fingers dimpling the soft flesh. His face is pained—whether that pain is coming from his cock or from his soft bleeding heart, Ghost doesn’t know. Doesn’t really care. He searches the soaked space between your thighs, finding your entrance and slipping two thick fingers into you.

You howl, body bowing against Johnny’s. Inside, you are like burning silk, soft and molten, squeezing tight around the girth of his fingers. He hooks them softly, aiming for that spongy area behind your pubic bone and works to fuck you with vigor, the wet squelches of your cunt nearly obscene in the enclosed, tiled space.

Your mouth forms words, simple ones: “Yes, yes, yesyesyesyes,” until you are hissing the word, your head thrown back to rest on Johnny’s shoulder and expose your corded throat, shirt sticking to your skin. When you run out of breath, you can’t draw in more, your body frozen in time, trembling with need. When you cum, you fucking squirt, a rush of wetness that follows his fingers when he trails them out of you and skims them over your clit to prolong the orgasm.

“Jesus,” Johnny mutters again, burying his face against your neck.

“No gods here,” Ghost reminds him. He reaches up and taps his wet fingers against Johnny’s cheek, thrills as Johnny turns his head and opens his mouth to take them, to suck them clean, groaning.

“No,” you shriek, wrapping both hands around Ghost’s wrist. You tug with all your strength, his fingers slipping wetly from Johnny’s mouth. “No—back inside, please put them back, please—”

But Ghost knows that these are only temporary fixes to get you off of death’s doorstep. If he wants to truly save your life, he knows the cost. What’s the use in prolonging your pain?

Ghost should pay up.

“I’ve got something better for you,” Ghost promises. To Johnny, he says: “Help me get her to the bed.”