#for the love of God someone please write him

[just-some-random-blogger]

HAPPY NEW YEAR IN MID JANUARY! I HOPE EVEYTHING HAS BEEN AMAZING WITH YOUUU AND WILL CONTINUE TO BE <3

i bet the wedding was amazing but also a relief to be over now <3 slayed. also you telling me you peaked, as if this was an exam HAHHAHAH. PEAK TO YOUR HEARTS CONTENT 😋 i dont believe in spoilers. you do you boo <3

What will it take for my poor girl to not have to beg for someone to love her and be considerate to her.

😬 death prolly

im gonna be honest with you, when i was writing the scene with her and caraxes, i wasnt trying to make it look like she wanted to kill herself... in all honesty, i dont think she was. i think she was mostly like 'if i cant have daemon, ill have caraxes' and then at some point she was like lmao this is a dragon 😆 i could get killed HAHAHAH

also HAHAA DAEMON ACCUSING HER OF INCEST HAHAHH NO CUZ WHY IS THAT SO FUNNY. tbf i think daemons just irrationally jealous of everyone. if she ever gets pregnant i dont think his first thought would be 'ah yes you fucked your twin brother' it would be like 'ah yes you fucked someone else because ive been pulling out' yknow

LAUGHING AT ARRYK IS REAL BUT ALSO FOULLLLLL. he loves herrr 🥺 dont be meannnnn

MEDIEVAL DNA TEST HAHAHAHAH. bestie i dont think daemon is smart enough to put one and one together

Oh my god Arryk stop tattling on my boy Caraxes like that. He was just trying to show some affection and protectiveness!!! It's not his fault that years of bonding with daemon also turned him a little dense and emotionally constipated like his master

;KAGHSFLHA'LSFHL'HASFHSA I LOVE HOW IVE HAD PEOPLE GO AFTER ARRYK FOR TATTLING HAHAHHAHHAHAHAH. HE WAS A WOUNDED PUPPP. also the insinuation caraxes is emotionally constipated because daemon is 🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯 YOURE SO BIG BRAINED FOR THAT!!!!!!!! I kinda hate that for caraxes though. i 10000000% will be diving into caraxes and yn relationshippp ))))):

The way I 100% believe that the foundation of the brothers' relationship is that daemon will ALWAYS do the exact opposite of viserys tells him so the fact that he told daemon to return to his lady wife, it will lead him to run as far away from her as possible (aka stepstones)

💯 no notes

[...] WHAT THEY COULDVE BEEN IF DAEMON WASNT SO DENSE AND THICK AND STUPID AND UGHHHHHHH

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE I NEED THIS FUCKER TO RECEIVE THERAPY FROM BRAAVOS OR WHATEVER BECAUSE HIS UNRESOLVED CHILDHOOD TRAUMA AND THE LACK OF PARENTAL LOVE HE RECEIVED IS GOING TO DESTROY THE MC AND I CANNOT STAND FOR IT I WILL DIE

and you're so right

FUCK YOU FUCK THE WHOLE TSRGARYEN DYNASTY YOU FILTHY LYING WHORE OF A DRAGON RIDER GO FUCK MYSARIA IN A WIG AND CALL OUT YOUR WIFES NAME AND TELL HER YOU WANT HER BECAUSE YOURE TOO SCARED TO SAY IT TO YOUR WIFE AND GO TO THE SHITTY STEPSTONES SURROUNDED BY NOTHING BUT UGLY LOOKING PIRATES FOR THREE WHOLE YEARS WITH SHITTY FOOD AND SHITTY WINE KJHGRRYVHBEBN LTLV

I LOVE THE FACT IT HURT COS IT HURT ME FR WHEN I WROTE THIS I WAS CRYING TOO HAHAHHHAH. IF I DONT CRY WRITING IT, I DONT THINK ITS ANGSTY ENOUGH BESTIE. YOU PROLLY CRIED COS OUR BRAINS ARE LIKE THIS 🤞🤞🤞

UGH I LOVE YOU SO MUCH I LOVE HOW YOU GET ME AND MY PARALELLS AND MY ANGST AND UGHHHHHHHHHHHH KISS YOU SO MUCHHH

Tormented Spirit | 10

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, panic/anxiety attacks, suicidal ideation, attempted suicide, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: GUYS ITS STILL TOO FUCKING LONG I HAD TO CUT IT AGAIN T_T blah blah canon stuff/high valyrian inaccurate blah. please please leave comments/reblogs because they really help me with the fic. | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat @prettybiching @myllovellybones

Daemon does not come home to you that night. When you awaken, you feel sick to your stomach. The thought of food repulsive though, so you spend the morning looking for your husband, until your body betrays you and feels sick because of not having eaten. You realize that your state is not borne simply from worrying about the prince, but probably also because of this supposed life you carried within you.

You try to deny it though, chalking it up to your mind playing tricks on you. After all, it's laughable that you suddenly experienced these symptoms just after all the fuss of learning you were with child.

You thought you finally found Daemon when you heard Caraxes was in the dragon pit, and so you run there, run, much to the protest of Arryk, who was hot on your heels. He managed to convince you to slow down by telling you that you would eventually get to the dragon pit if you walked, but you would never get there if you pass out.

You'd never been so happy to see the blood wyrm.

"Daemon?" you call out, searching for him.

Caraxes is busy feasting on meat and Arryk is busy watching him, body tense and senses on high alert.

The dragon keeper comes to you, shaking his head, "se dārilaros iksis daor kesīr dombo." The prince is not here anymore.

You understood nothing, save dārilaros, which you knew meant prince, and figure he's probably telling you he is not here, which you could gather from simple observation.

You turn to Caraxes and point, "zaldrīzes." Dragon.

The man brightens, as he understands, "Caraxes."

You nod, placing a hand on your chest. You do a walking motion with your fingers towards Caraxes.

His eyes widen and he shakes his head and hands.

You clench your jaw and turn to Caraxes, nodding your head in understanding.

The dragon keeper relaxes.

He mistakes you.

"Arryk," you turn to your ward, "can you come here please?"

Arryk's eyes linger on the dragon a moment before turning to you. You settle him in front of the dragon keeper, and while he is distracted from trying to figure out what you were doing, you circle behind your knight and sneak past both, making a beeline towards Caraxes.

The dragon notices you immediately and watches you near. He lifts his head and sniffs the air, and only then do the two men realize what's happening.

"PRINCESS!" Arryk shouts, sprinting towards you before coming to an abrupt stop.

Enraged, Caraxes cranes his long neck, roaring at Arryk, making him topple back on his bum.

The dragon keeper screams a command and raises his hands.

Amidst the peril of it all, you are calm as you look up at Daemon's companion. It stems from the truth that it would be far less complicated and less painful to be eaten by a dragon than to tell your husband you are with child and deliver it.

The red creature screeches as snaps his teeth at the two men, causing his keeper to step back and Arryk to crawl back with him.

Caraxes then averts his attention, shaking his head as he circles around you, effectively blocking the two from seeing anything other than his massive, scaly body.

In truth, you think your heart might be impaired, because it doesn't race at all as the beast seemingly imposes upon you. He cannot seem to stop pacing around you, as if he was restless, anxious even.

Your face contorts at the bleating sound it makes. He lowers his head slightly inhaling and exhaling deeply. He makes another noise and you swear to yourself, the creature looks like he's fidgeting.

You feel bad, for it seems... you've upset him, "apologies... I was hoping you'd eat me."

Caraxes screams loudly again when he spots two other dragon keepers come to you from the other side. He threatens them with a snap of his teeth.

"Daor!" they scream in unison. No.

Caraxes seethes and screeches, as if saying, 'do not tell me what to do'.

He circles around you again, and this time, he shoves you forward with his wing. You yelp as you are knocked to the ground with a thud. You manage to brace yourself, grazing your hands as you did, but your chest still hurts at the impact.

The keepers scream in horror because of this, fearing that you would soon be eaten.

"HEY!" Arryk screams, thinking he can distract Caraxes. He can't, and he is losing his mind. Hoes not know what to do but to shout your name in terror. He can't help but draw his sword and immediately the dragon keeper is yelling something, motioning that he stop.

You whine as you roll on your side. Caraxes growls as he bites your arm. The fear finally sets in as he does this, and his powerful maw pulls you up to sitting position.

The dragon keeper, who ran to retrieve you, shrieks out upon witnessing this.

You gasp when Caraxes roars back, and you squeal when his wing comes over you. The strangest thing occurs to you in that moment, and your heart finally begins to race— not because it sinks in how much danger you were in, but because, suddenly, you knew you were not.

You come to a stand, and with no regard for your safety, you reach out for the dragon's skin, somehow shocked by how warm and hard it is. "Caraxes."

He hears you, though you barely raised your voice. He is sensitive to the sound of his name. Caraxes moves back, pulling away enough to be able to coil his neck and look at you.

The dragon keepers, who were so on edge, altogether fall silent when they see you in the midst of the blood wrym.

Arryk nearly broke into a other sprint upon finally seeing you, but he manages to hold back and lowers his sword, unwilling to sheathe it.

Caraxes produces a sound you think is akin to a mewl, as much as a mewl a ten foot beast could make. You huff and feel your breath hitch. You close your eyes and reach out to him, ready to accept whichever fate awaits you, companionship or death.

You gasp, eyes instantly opening when you feel the wetness on your hands. Caraxes presses his snout to your palms, and you squeak, quickly pulling back at the heat of his huff.

He lifts his head and begins to pace around again. You are certain now that the beast was, in fact, restless.

"Paez ilagon!" you exclaim, raising your hands at him.

Caraxes huffs, debating if he should heed your command.

"Paez ilagon," slow down, you repeat as the dragon fully faces you.

You, and everyone else who witnesses it, are shocked that Caraxes listens. He quits his pacing and slowly comes to a halt, looming over you.

Your lips wobble, humbled by the idea such a fearsome creature would obey the commands of such a pathetic being. You begin to weep, as Caraxes lowers his head, sniffing you. Your hands dart out to him when he gets too close. You slightly topple when he nudges you with his snout. You feel the warmth of his breath seeping through your dress as he brushes against you. You can tell he is trying his best to be gentle, but even then he is too strong that you have to repel him. He makes the faintest of sounds.

"Gods be good," you mumble as you gaze upon the creatures scales, "you can smell him, can't you? Daemon?"

Caraxes remains pressed against you a moment longer.

You sniffle and momentarily fantasize about the child growing within you. You lean into him in defeat, "you silly thing."

His throat emits a low rumble.

"It would have been better if you made me a snack," you mumble against him, feeling your tears drip.

Caraxes slowly lowers his head until he is laid on the floor. You remain leaned on him for a moment, and then you pull away with a sigh. You look upon the dragon, thinking he is so much like his rider, and stroke his cheek one last time before pulling away.

You walk towards the dragon keeper you had blindsided and lower your head in shame, speaking the word you had learned for Daemon, "usōvegon." Apologies.

He stares at you for a moment, taking in your now messy hair and dirtied face, and replies with something you do not understand.

You nod at him without meeting his eyes then hurriedly walk off. Arryk is quick to follow after you, and his skidding makes Caraxes screech at him. He flinches at the sound, looking behind him warily. You do not.

When Arryk finally catches up to you, he takes your arm and calls out your name. He is alarmed by the red smeared down your philtrum and cheek.

"Forgive me," you mutter, unable to meet his gaze. You do not stop walking, "I- I was overcome... I did not think of anything but myself. I did not mean to cause anyone such immense distress."

"What were you trying to do?" Arryk quips, taking in your dirtied face. He did not know if it would be appropriate to wipe it with his cloak.

You shake your head, still unable to look at him.

"Princess," Arryk speaks like a plea, "did you know Caraxes would not hurt you?"

You gulp, quickening you pace.

Arryk huffs in frustration, calling out your name.

He forces you to stop by dashing forward, coming in front of you. You look up at him, eyes teary and mouth parted.

"I beg you," he clenches his fists, before succumbing to his urges. He grabs his cloak and wipes your face, brushing the dirt and blood as neatly as he can, "please tell me you did not knowingly put yourself in danger."

The tears running down your face help him clean you off. You honestly say, "I don't know if I should tell you."

Arryk is heart broken. He clenches his jaw tightly and releases his hold on you. He steps aside and you begin walking again.

You feel awful as you look at him. He is sullen as he walks beside you. You wipe your nose on your sleeve, "apologies, Arryk."

He shakes his head and opens his mouth. His jaw hangs for a moment, but then he closes his mouth, saying nothing.

You turn to your side when you hear your name called.

Alicent, who was making her way to the king's quarters, runs up you, eyes widening at the blood on your face. The red had spread as it mixed with your tears. She quickly pulls out her handkerchief, "your nose is bleeding!"

Your eyes widen, as you did not know this, but you quickly take her wrist and slowly pull away, "it is nothing."

"What happened to her, ser?" Alicent turns to Arryk.

Arryk is eager to tattle, "she was at the dragon pit and-"

"I fell," you cut him off, blocking your sister's gaze upon your ward, "I-"

"You fell in the dragon pit?!" she bristles further. Your feigning backfired. "What did Daemon do?!"

"The prince is nowhere to be seen," Arryk scoffs.

"I was- am looking for him!" you blurt

"Caraxes nearly attacked her," Arryk adds.

"Arryk!" you whip your head to him then back to your sister, "he did not!"

"He shoved her back and she fell!" he explains, "that's why her nose is bloody."

Alicent calls your name as you call Arryk's.

Your sister takes your shoulders, eyes immediately watering, "did you want to get hurt, sister?"

Your jaw slacks, "I- I-"

"Does Daemon posses you to do such things?" your baby sister begins to cry.

You shake your head rapidly, "no! No. I swear to you, this has nothing to do with him."

"Then what?" Alicent asks with a broken voice.

You gasp for air and feel a shiver run down your spine. You cannot tell her the truth, so you explain instead, "my nose already bled yesterday, which is why it's bleeding now."

"What?!"

"I already fainted yesterday and fell quite hard, which is why my nose is bleeding again."

"Mother, please," Alicent whispers.

"Alicent, I swear to you, you need not-"

"How could you let this happen to her twice?" Alicent turns to Arryk.

Arryk lowers his head, "I have failed-"

"I snuck behind him," you blurt, "do not fault him for my impulsiveness."

Alicent's heart is crush as she watches you wipe your face.

"It is not Arryk's fault that my nose is bloody. It is neither Caraxes fault for shoving me. It is mine. My body is weak and I have spent all day looking for my husband, against the behest of my maester."

Alicent clenches her jaw. It is Daemon's fault.

"I will go to the maesters' ward and submit to whatever is prescribed to me," you place a hand on her shoulder. You sniffle, "do not speak to father of this."

"Make sure to go to the maester's then," you sister warns.

Dejected, you look away and walk off.

Alicent takes in a breath before grabbing her skirts, marching over to the king's quarters.

Viserys is in the middle of gluing his diorama of King's Landing when he hears a knock on the door, "come in."

Alicent enters, sighing deeply before pulling a smile.

"Alicent," his blank expression slightly lightens.

She curtsies, "your highness," and walks over to him. She turns her attention to whatever it was the king was building.

Viserys shows raises a block, "a new tower."

Alicent smiles softly, "pretty."

The king raises a brow upon noticing the stiffness to her demeanor, "is everything alright?"

Alicent betrays herself on purpose by nodding her head too quickly.

Viserys puts the tower down. He reaches for her arm, "what's wrong, my girl."

She takes a sharp breath, "my sister—"

He furrows his brows.

"—she... she has a bloody nose from falling."

"She fell?"

"Twice," Alicent fidgets with her hands, honest agitation for her sister taking over her, "because she's been looking for Daemon."

His reaction to the name is instant. Viserys' jaw clenches and his fists ball in anger, "Daemon."

Daemon struts down the great hall, making his way towards the Iron Throne. The night was now deep and the few candles lit in the room only increased the tension between the brothers.

The prince looks up at the king. The king and two kingsguard stationed on either side of the throne look down at him. Viserys clenches his sword, "and where have you been?"

Daemon scoffs, aimlessly looking around, "have you summoned me to nag?" He clasps his hand in front of him, leaning on one foot, "I already have a wife for that."

His brother laughs, hard. It echoes across the hall, but it is by no means genuine, "I would not have ever known with all the time you waste in brothels."

Daemon grinds his teeth, face contorting, "so you've summoned me to reb-"

"Did you say it?" Viserys snaps.

"... what?"

"An heir for a day— did you say it?!"

"..."

The king's nostrils flare.

"... we must all mourn in our own way, your grace."

Viserys sighs, lowering his head in defeat for a second, then erupts, "MY FAMILY HAS BEEN DESTROYED!" He seethes, "and instead of staying at mine, or Rhaenyra's side you celebrate your own rise with your whores and your lickspittles!

"And wife," he scoffs, "your poor wife... do you even know that your mount has injured her?"

Daemon stiffens.

"She came to the pit looking for you and the beast caused her a bloody nose."

"What?"

"You chose her Daemon. And in choosing her you prove time and time again, I bend to your desires only to be repaid with disrespect. You have no other allies in court but me, yet-"

"You do nothing but distance me from court! From the City Watch, even with- with her... you do nothing but heed the whispers of that leaching old man."

"Leaching old man?" Viserys raises his brows.

Daemon nearly vibrates in anger.

"You mean Otto Hightower?" the king's lips curl, "the man who begged me—"

He laughs dryly.

"—over and back to spare her sickly daughter from enduring a lifetime with a the likes of you!"

Daemon is wounded, "I am your brother."

"Then why do you cut me so deep?"

"I see that man for what he is."

Viserys huffs, "a loyal and faithful-"

"A cunt!"

The king leans back. His kingsguard are ready to draw their steel. Viserys realizes there is no getting through to him. He looks away then turns back to glare at him, "jiōragon hen ñuha laehurlion." Get out of my face.

"Lēkia," Daemon steps forward, muttering the word that meant older brother.

The kingsguards step forward, showing a glimmer of their swords as a warning.

"I hear it is the first time your Hightower bride has been separated from her twin. It would do her health good to visit Oldtown."

He clenches his fists tightly.

"Perhaps she might get strong enough to grant you a child," he clenches his jaw, "maybe once the gods have granted you a boy or girl, you will understand my grief." Viserys motions with a nod, "you are to return to your lady wife with no quarrel. Take him out of my sight."

Daemon does not wait to be apprehended and storms out of the room. He is bristling as he gets out.

"Mazeman bona ziry gōntan daor jikagon sȳrī." I take that it did not go well.

Daemon turns and sees Corlys standing by the door, hands clasped in front of him.

"I wanted to speak to you of something important earlier today. I hope your mood is not too bad foul-"

"Ȳdragon se sagon gaomagon lēda bisa jenigon," Daemon snaps. Speak and be done with this bother.

Corlys straightens his back and motions with hand, "it is regarding the Stepstones, your grace."

Daemon furrows his brows, vaguely recalling this topic being broached during one of the council meetings. The two of them discuss this as they walk down the hall. By the time the prince reaches your shared quarters, he's agreed to help the Seasnake with his concern.

You leap from your bed when the door opens. Daemon freezes as you scurry to the door, hastily running to him without even putting on your slippers. You stand before him barefoot, heaving as you clutch your nightgown. He stares at you, hands clenching into fists.

"Usōvegon," your lips tremble.

Daemon's face falls a fraction as he watches your eyes water.

"Usōvegon," apologies, you repeat. "Please..." you slowly reach for him.

He watches your palms press against his chest. He makes no attempt to move.

"Do not be cross with me any longer."

A deep breath flares through his nostrils. He realizes then that he is exhausted and shuts his eyes. He leans his forehead on yours and takes your wrists. He huffs at your feel, "you are freezing."

"I-"

Daemon seals you into an embrace and the warmth of his body quickly seeps onto your much colder one. A shiver runs down your spine. You immediately wrap your arms around him and nuzzle your face into his chest. He mimics you, brushing his cheek against your hair, taking in the faint smell of citrus. He remembers what his brother said and repeats it, "ñuha mijegindita ābrazȳrys." My poor wife.

You don't know what he says, so you make sure to tell him what wants to hear— what you think he wants to hear, "I will not defy you ever again."

He does not care about that. He pulls back and looks at you. He wipes the tears off your face and a line forms between his brows, "Caraxes attacked you?"

One of your hands instinctively comes to your philtrum, "no. I-" you shake your head, "I fell."

You don't know why you think Daemon would be satisfied with your answer. He presses, "tell me exactly what happened."

You huff, "I was... yesterday, I fainted—"

"Fainted?"

"—then I fell."

He shakes his head, "this happened in the dragon pit?"

"... no. When... when I was chasing after you."

Daemon brushes your hair back.

You cannot hold his gaze, "I went to the pit, hoping you'd be there and-" you realize you cannot tell him what happened. You cannot tell him you walked to his mount and his mount did not attack you because he could smell part of him in you. You huff, "-and Caraxes got close and knocked me over."

"Did he try to bite you?"

You debate for a second before shaking your head.

Daemon sighs, "he must have smelled me on you and got excited."

Your throat tightens. Goosebumps form on your arm when Daemon traces your nose with his thumb.

"And your nose bled?"

You do not want to answer.

He sighs, "I will reintroduce you to him, so that he does not act so-"

"It's not his fault!" you blurt, "not really."

He knits his brows.

"When I fainted and fell, my nose already bled, so..." you motion with a finger, "Caraxes simply... set off a previous injury."

He says absolutely nothing.

"My body is weak," you mumble, hoping to explain it better, "I've had worse injuries."

"Do you tell me this so that I will not bring you to Caraxes?"

"No," you shake your head, "no. Just... so you do not..." worry, you almost say, but then the idea feels presumptuous.

"Not fault my beast for acting like one?" Daemon asks, as he heads for his cabinet.

You look at him for a moment then follow. You decide to hum and proceed to help him get undressed.

Your husband examines your face. The moonlight mixed with candlelight makes your skin glow. He is loathe to think your tears add to it, but it's unfortunately true. Your being glistens because of all these things. He interrupts your unbuttoning by taking your cheeks and slowly wiping off the tears on your lashes.

You blink at him, "better?"

"Gevie," he says, brushing your throat with his thumbs.

You nod, though you still did not know what that meant. You push his doublet past his shoulders and once his dress shirt remained, he is quick to remove his shoes as you bring his clothes to the hamper. When you walk back to him, he is picking out clothes from his closet. You are deeply confused when he hands you a stack of shirts.

Daemon moves to his other cabinet and says, "pack those in my trunk for me."

You freeze and blink rapidly, "I-" you turn to his truck, which was atop his closet. Your heart races, "I cannot reach it."

Daemon pulls out more clothing before looking at you. You watch him closely as he stands and reaches for the trunk. He places it on the floor and opens it.

You slowly kneel on the floor beside it, doing your best to keep calm in this moment. Are you leaving? You nearly ask him, but you don't because he clearly is. You begin to fold his clothes, but you cannot hold your peace, "where are you going?"

Daemon stuffs his clothes into his trunk and sighs before crouching down to fix them, "the Stepstones."

"W-what?"

"The Seasnake needs help with the Crabfeeder, so I will help him."

"Why?" you blurt all too quickly.

Daemon straightens up. He looks down at you as you shake your head and quickly finish folding his clothes.

"Why must it be you?"

The voice of his brother rings in his mind. Do you carry such low regard of him just as he? "Why can't it be me?" he snaps, "you think I will be of no help?"

He is taken aback by how you chuck his clothes into his trunk rather aggressively. His face begins to harden with anger but then you make a noise and lean into the trunk, heaving deeply in and out.

"Wha-"

You cut him off by reaching for his legs. He is frozen in place as you embrace him from where you knelt on the floor.

Whatever choler was building in him quickly dissipates and morphs into... fear, or rather, worry. He calls out your name, reaching for your head.

"You cannot leave me," you shudder, gripping his calves for dear life. You look up at him, face wholly distraught but not teary. You find yourself too tired to shed a tear.

Cannot leave you? He does not like the way you imply he would be unable to if he wanted. Daemon watches you as you slowly bring yourself up to a stand. He does not help you as you pull yourself up using his legs and waist.

Your hands remain gripping the sides of his shirt as you stare at him. You take in his stoic expression as you gather the nerve to repeat, "you cannot leave m-"

"And why can't I?" he quips as his insecurity gets ahead of himself.

You hear it in his voice. You hear how he thinks you're challenging him. You shake your head and correct yourself, "n-no," you shudder, "no, Daemon, no. I- I want you to stay." You brush your palms up his chest.

He can feel the tremble of your hands as they come to his cheeks. He knit his brows at your confession. He has to ask, "why?"

You could tell him many reasons. The one possibly most relevant to him is that of the fact you were carrying his unborn child. A shiver runs down your spine; you are not foolish enough to believe this would be something that would make him want to stay. You could always tell him you needed him, your health needed him, because it was true. As much as he clawed your fragile heart, he made it soar in ways you've never experienced. But there was a rather simpler truth to that need, though attached to a very complicated feeling, "because I love you."

Daemon's expression falls. Though his lips barely part, you can tell that he is gobsmacked. You release a shaky breath as you swipe his chin and jaw with the pads of your thumbs.

Should he be so shocked? Love in a marriage is not so uncommon, even if it is arranged, even if it felt opposite in the beginning.

So, what?

What was your love to him? It would wax and wane like his brother's— and his brother, his fucking brother. He could not grant him the satisfaction. Daemon takes you by the wrists and slowly pries you off, "you are mistaken."

You take a deep breath at his words. You are perfectly still.

"I do not feel the same," he mutters.

Daemon was not one to lie, convinced such an act was beneath him, reserved for incapable, lesser men; half-wits, and yellow-bellies. The only reason he could say this was because the cup in which you held your love for him was far deeper than the one he had for you, and he was aware of it. He loved himself far more than he could ever bring himself to love anyone; he would always be first.

Still, he was not an incapable, lesser man, nor was he a half-witted yellow-belly. He knew of the cup he held, which oft overflowed. The mere thought of you triggered a smell in the air, and at the mention of your name, his bones ignited. You were his, and you held his regard, his affection, his lust, and, yes, his love.

All of this, he was about to explain, but then your reaction blind-sided him.

You nod, "I know."

How terrible it was to hear it. He knew his words where callous. He knew wuch an admission is a gash from a jagged blade— to not be loved by who you loved. Yet your casual resignation to this information stung, nay, scorched his heart.

Is it cold? Is his love so dry you cannot even feel it?

His grip on you falters.

You bring your hands to his shoulders. You rub his bicep and smile softly in reassurance, "I do not mind."

"What?"

Your smile widens a fraction, "I know you enjoy the... delicateness of my body, both intimately and-" you motion to yourself, "-regarding my affliction."

He knits his brows.

"It is wholly contrary to yours, and it is mirthful to you," you nod again, "I understand."

"Do you?" he raises his furrowed brows.

You slowly loosen your hold on him. You pull away to fidget with your fingers, "do I not?"

"No," he scoffs under his breath, chest tightening far too much he has to move past you, "I don't think you do."

You are quick to grab him but it slips, "then make me understand."

Daemon stops in his tracks, turning back to you as his breathing picks up.

Your own does the same, but your gasps get shorter and shorter, so much so, you feel yourself get lightheaded. Your husband has to grab you to keep you upright, but you want to show him you have the will to overcome this, that you aren't dead weight, so push him away and mutter, "I- I can do it, Daemon."

He misinterprets you. You scorch him again. He squeezes your arms, "you don't want my help now?"

"No," you say as try to catch your breath, "I- I just-" you cannot continue.

Daemon has to sit you down to help calm you down. He tried to keep you upright, but then he realizes you were consciously trying to lean into his chest, so he lets you. You press your cheek against his warm muscles and sigh at the beat of his heart. You wrap your arms around him, "I want this."

He stares at your brown hair for a moment.

"I want all of this," you sigh, "which is why I want to be what you want me to be."

He finally lets himself embrace you, but just then, you pull away to look at him.

"I can do it," you nod as you take a final deep breath, "I can be a dutiful wife— I will be a dutiful wife. I will not defy you. I will do as you please. I will not expect more than I ought."

"You cannot do everything for me," Daemon says with slight contempt, a line between his brows.

"I-" you shake your head, "... I know," you shake your head faster, taking his hands, "but can I make you stay?"

He looks at how you hold him. He feels sick.

"What can I do to ma-"

"You do not understand," he pulls his hand away, "my brother wants me to leave. He is sick of me and prays for my riddance."

You watch as Daemon stands and paces around.

"He told me to bring you to your twin in Oldtown, and I would sooner eat Caraxes' shit than be tossed aside to the fucking Reach."

You shake your head, "why does he want you to leave?"

"He is weepy over the drunken words I spoke."

"Well, what did you-"

"Does it matter?!" he snaps, raising his hands, "I must leave!"

He is clearly upset. You nod your head and come to a stand, "then I will speak to the k-"

"No!" he shouts, "I will not have my wife act on my behalf, as though I rolled my belly."

"You are not rolling your belly, I am."

"You think there is a fucking difference?!" he quips, marching in front of you, "no! I am to leave in the dawn, so pack my fucking things, woman!"

You grit your teeth in an attempt to steel yourself away. It does not prevent the tears from running down your cheeks.

Daemon's nostrils flare as you go back to his trunk and sort out his clothes. He hears your soft whimpers and slowly begins to deflate. He wipes his face, slowly turning to you. He watches tears drop onto his garbs, "have you nothing to say?"

You sniffle and shake your head rapidly.

"No?!" his expression pinches.

You stand and grab the rest of this clothes. You sniffle with difficulty then sigh deeply. Your voice is shaky, "I want only to please you."

Daemon chuckles dryly, aimlessly looking around, "you think this pleases me?"

"Then tell me what will!" you whip your head around, clutching his clothes tightly in your arms, "I implore you." You step forward and haphazardly drop everything to his trunk, "I cannot please you if you refuse to tell me what you want."

"I want to go to the fucking Stepstones!" he points to nowhere.

You are shattered. How terrible of him to make it so painfully clear that what he wants does not even involve you. He does not want you, or even if he did, you cannot be enough. You lower your gaze.

"I want you to beg me to stay."

You look up at him. You chuckle dryly under your breath when you realize he's being serious. Your sorrow is not enough, it seems, now he wants even your shame.

Daemon tenses when you get on your knees.

You grip the fabric of his trousers as tightly as possible in an attempt to steel yourself, but it does not prevent your tears from falling. You shudder, "please."

"..."

"Stay. I beg you."

Your prince gazes upon your bitterness. He brushes your cheek and feels the coldness of your tears. He sighs because this does not affect him the way he had hoped.

It is not enough.

Dawn breaks, and Caraxes is restless. Daemon's things were being secured on his dragon, but that is not why so many dragon keepers had to keep him in check.

There, by the entrance, you stood with your hands clasped together and your head hung low. Both your wards behind you, eyeing your prince, who was doing his best to calm his ride as the last of his things were readied. Daemon did not know Caraxes was acting this way because of your distress, but the keepers slowly began to realize this was the case.

One of the keepers call out, "ñuha dārilaros, aōha ābrazȳrys." My prince, your wife.

"Rȳbagon, Caraxes!" Daemon snaps at his dragon to listen. Caraxes shakes his head and the prince spares the dragon keeper a glance, "skoros hen zirȳla?" What of her?

"Aōha zaldrīzes kostagon yknagon zirȳla boter." Your dragon can smell her suffering.

The prince turns to you, back to Caraxes, "iksis ziry zirȳla, Caraxes?" Is it her, Caraxes.

You lift your gaze when you hear Daemon call for you. He beckons you over and before you can move, Arryk grabs your arm and whispers, "I do not think this wise."

You slightly turn to him, "he will not harm me. You saw how Caraxes acted yesterday."

"It is not the dragon I worry about."

You look at the man, seeing how his jaw is clenched. You place a hand on his shoulder plate before walking towards your husband.

Rather immediately, there is a shift in Caraxes's demeanor. He huffs and screeches, neck coiling so his head could come near you. Daemon barks out multiple commands and his mount finally obeys.

The prince knits his brows then turns to you, reaching out a hand. You take it and find yourself pulled into your husband's arms. Your skin pricks with goosebumps when he whispers in your ear, "he wants you."

You sigh and close your eyes, resigning yourself to Daemon. He links his fingers into yours and places it atop his dragon's snout.

Caraxes sighs and slightly leans in.

Daemon is astounded by this, "I did not know he could possibly care for someone more than his rider."

You slowly open your eyes and look at the creatures ruby scales. "He does not," you mutter, rubbing one hand on your belly.

He does not hear this. When he turns you around, he catches you rubbing your stomach. He sighs and takes your hand, "do not weep so bitterly."

You cannot do anything but the opposite. Tears stream down your cheeks, "do not be so cruel then."

Daemon watches how your lips wobble. A line forms between his brows, "do not make this harder than it should."

You pull away from him and lower your gaze, "then just leave me now, and spare me the slow torture."

He tenses at your words. His expression hardens, "I did not ask you to see me off."

"Shall I leave then?" you snap, eyes red as you look back at him.

"Yes!"

You grab your skirt and walk towards the twins.

Daemon is stunned. He turns around and watches as you storm off. He calls your name, once, twice, and then he is sobered by the scream of Caraxes. You do not even stop by the entrance anymore, and walk past your kingsguards, who are quick to follow after you.

Here you were doing his bidding, following his wishes, yet there was no satisfaction. All there was... was less of you, less of your strength, your light, your fire.

Daemon turns to Caraxes, who was restless again. He pushes past the dragon keepers and saddles up. He orders Caraxes to start walking, so he does. The blood wrym begins to crawl towards you and the prince has to reel him back, barking out orders of obedience far too loudly.

Caraxes gives a loud screech before following the order. He huffs so deeply that the wind it produces makes you topple.

Your knights are quick to keep you upright, and though you so badly want to turn around, you remind yourself that your husband has done nothing but all he wants since you've wed. If he wanted you to stay, he would have told you.

You wouldn't know then that Daemon made Caraxes stop in his tracks. You wouldn't know that as he watched you walk off, he was mumbling under his breath that you turn around. You just kept walking yet he still waited for you to turn back, even after your figure had disappeared.

He would also never know that you headed down to the docks near the Keep, just to watch Caraxes fly away one last time. He would never know how your skin pricked with gooseflesh at the sight of the red winged beast soaring above. He would never know how hard it became for you to breathe.

"Gods, please," you mumble as your eyes endlessly watered, "swiftly return him to me."

Arryk and Erryk, stood on either side of you, glared at the sky as they heard your broken voice. They were on high alert as the docks were busy at this hour, and yet, it was necessary to convey their contempt, even if the person it was meant for could not see.

"Give me back my husband," you look at your reflection in the water, "or take me to my mother."

Before your words even register to either of the twins, you've already jumped into the water. Erryk nearly jumps in with you before realizing his armor would surely make him sink. "PRINCESS!" he screams as he undoes his armor.

"THE PRINCESS!" Arryk screams to the fisherman, "SHE'S FALLEN INTO THE WATER!"

The commotion is great. It is loud and frantic, yet as your body plunges and slowly begins to float, you care little. You feel someone fish you out of the water by the arm, and you want nothing more than to break free and swim towards your demise. But then, you hear your wards calling out your name, and you realize you cannot.

You say nothing once you are on land.

Both Cargylls has a hand on your arm, and each of them are worriedly questioning you, "are you alrigh- what happe- what were you thinki- are you faint- my princess-"

"I need to see him," you say.

Arryk and Erryk freeze. The look at each other, not knowing what to say. Arryk offers, "my princess. I fear you cannot see Dae-"

"Not him," you look between them as you gather your skirts. It is arduous, as it is soaking wet.

Otto was on his way back from the scrolls room when hears the shout from across the hall. He tenses like a rock at the recognition of his daughter's voice.

You hadn't realized how tired you were until you saw him. Your knees immediately buckle and you fall to the floor as you call out, "papa!"

The Lord Hand dashes to you, dropping the scrolls he had along the way. He gets on his knees and picks you up. He is aghast by your dripping state, and his anger is soon turned on your incompetent guards, "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY GIRL?"

"Papa," you mutter once you are in his arms.

Otto cradles you, looking down at your sorry form. A deep line is between his brows.

"He left me," you whisper, tears wetting your already wet cheeks.

Daemon. Lord Hightower clenches his jaw. It's always fucking him. "Come, my girl," he mutters, trying to bring you to your feet, "let's get you-"

Your voice is soft, yet it still cuts him off, "you must not leave me."

Otto is frozen. Arryk and Erryk are frozen too.

"If you leave me too, I do not think I will survive."

[xoamiiren]

Okay but listen.... the jungwon part of the blurb where they call the reader noona, the one where he's an intern in an office - a masterpiece. Literal work of art. Please, for the love of God, consider writing something like that some time bc it's absolutely divine❤️

WORK FOR IT, ⋆｡°✩ 𓈒𓈒 I miss you.

𖥔 PRECIS. In which, the very popular office intern, has had enough of your teasing. PAIRING. office intern!jungwon x office siren!reader GENRE. fluff, suggestive WARNINGS. skinship, mild kissing

authors note ୨୧ I feel like a genie! Your wish is my command, engene. 💕

─────────

The hum of the copier filled the print room as you busied yourself, hands deftly arranging papers into neat stacks. The door clicked open and shut behind you, but you didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

“Noona~” came the familiar, honeyed voice.

“Good morning, Wonnie,” you replied smoothly, your tone teasing, as if you hadn’t noticed his obvious stares all morning.

Before you could fully process, warm, surprisingly strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you back against a firm chest. You froze only for a second as the scent of apples and fresh linen surrounded you. His lips brushed against your neck, soft and fleeting, sending an involuntary shiver through you.

“Jungwon~ that tickles, honey,” you laughed breathily, attempting to keep your composure as his hold tightened slightly.

He let out a low whine, his head burying into your shoulder. Then, he shifted, and you braced yourself on the counter when his hips pressed insistently against you. His hands slid down to rest on your hips, holding you in place.

“Jungwon—what has gotten into you?” you asked, giggling as you twisted to face him, your back now pressed against the counter.

Jungwon’s face was flushed, his glasses slightly askew, and his ears burned bright red. His lips were pressed into a pout, but his eyes gleamed with something bold and unrelenting.

“Noona…” he breathed out, his arms on either side of you now, effectively caging you in.

His voice was a mix of frustration and yearning. “I miss you. You’ve been avoiding me all day.”

Your lips quirked up in amusement, but he barreled on, his gaze locking onto yours, his cheeks impossibly red.

“You were eyeing me in this morning’s meeting, rubbing your heel along my leg, then leaving as soon as it ended. Then, you didn’t even drink the coffee I made you. And after that—” His voice dropped slightly, his frustration slipping into something almost pleading. “—you left with Sunghoon for lunch, and now…” His voice cracked slightly as he leaned closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“Noona, you’re driving me crazy.”

You chuckled softly, uncrossing your arms to reach up and fix his glasses with delicate fingers. His gaze flickered down to your lips as you pecked his softly.

“Wonnie… shhh,” you whispered, glancing toward the blind-covered window. The last thing either of you needed was someone catching this little rendezvous.

But as you leaned back in to kiss him again, Jungwon snapped. His hand cupped the back of your head as deepened the kiss, the sudden intensity stealing the air from your lungs. The dominance in his movements shocked you—he wasn’t holding back anymore.

“Jungwon,” you gasped when he pulled back, only for his lips to find your jawline, trailing heated kisses down your neck.

“Noona,” he whispered between kisses, his tone a mix of desperation and satisfaction. “Don’t avoid me again… Please.”

You swallowed hard, heat rushing to your cheeks as you gripped his shoulders. “Okay, okay, I won’t,” you managed, voice breathless.

The printer beeped behind you, a sharp reminder of where you were, but the way Jungwon looked at you—lips swollen, eyes dark with desire—made you forget anyone else existed.

[manmuncher777]

i feel Nanami's type is either Megan thee stallion (generally anyone that's curvy) orrrr someone who's the complete opposite 🤷 you're sooo cute btw

oh my gosh!! my first nonnie!!! Hi my love, thank you for being my first ;). You’re even cuter, don’t get me started 😝

I totally get you vision for Nanami. so why not write both? (All body types are beautiful, I hope my writing can reflect that for everyone. Please feel free to share if you felt I represented something wrongly!❤️)

Curvy

Being a curvy woman had its ups and downs. One of the down being your heavy fucking tits, that constantly caused your back to ache, however. One massive fucking positive was that your husband was Obsessed with them.

“Back ache again darling?” he drawled, coming up behind you, hands resting at your hips.

“Yeah Ken, not great today.”

“Let me hold them for you sweetheart..” And that sweet tone of his did nothing to hide the lust on his face. The pure adoration as he shamelessly let his eyes travel down towards your cleavage as you faced him.

“Really Ken?” you asked him, quizzical look on your face.

“Really baby, let me make you feel better.”

Hands hands soon replacing your bra as He cupped your tits. you were sat on your couch with him, relaxing that evening while his huge hands took the weight of your tits off your back. you would be lying if you said it didn’t feel amazing. Like a weight had been lifted. literally. Your back already feeling better. But you didn’t miss the movement of his fingers. Every now and then his thumb swiping over the cushiony skin of your nipples. His eyes watching Your breatss, not the moving you are so engrossed it. He loved the way they looked in his hands. so pretty

He also loved your ass. Fucking hell. Any form fitting clothing had him foaming at the mouth, nothing was going to stop his from resting a possessive hand on the skin when you went out together. You could be going grocery shopping, simple pair of jeans on, and he’s gripping the fat of your ass. As if it were completely natural to him. When you wore a skirt. god he wanted you sat on his lap. never leaving.

and those form fitting dresses you liked to wear, shapely legs strutting along. You were tall, and kento loved it. He loved watching yo, just admiring you from a far. it was never just about your body, but god did he love it

not curvy

To kento. You were everything. But your body was just a bonus to him.

You had always had insecurities, perhaps you were a bit more lacking in certain departments. But to Kento, you were perfection

He loved your tits, so pretty and perky. The way you would wear a backless dress so easily, showing off that extra bit of skin that had him biting his lip as he watched you. The way your nipples perked so easily, he especially loved when you went braless. being able to see the perked skin through the material of your shirt, it had him staring like a pervert.

“Ken I need to go clothes shopping again soon, want to join”

“of course my love, why do you need to go clothes shopping, you only went last week?”

“I need some new bras, my others are a bit old now.” you mentioned absentmindedly, not seeing how your husbands eyes were currently glued to your tits. Your braless tits.

“just go braless forever. you know it’s my favourite” He says, stalking towards you as his hands trace over your clothed boobs. Not missing the way your nipples perked under his touch.

Your ass was another favourite also. the way it fit so perfectly in his hand, the way it complimented your figure so perfectly. He loved watching you move, the way those short little skirts fitted you, god it was like he was seeing an angel. Nanami didn’t need bold curves to love your body. besides, he was instead drawn to balance of your figure, the way your clothes highlighted your stunning legs, how nice they looked in a pair of heals. He wanted every inch of your skin to be covered in his marks

[venusentranced]

Could u make a short writing abt jay? Idk why i see no sub appreciation for himmmm i totally can see him being desperate

i am a sub!jay enthusiast! a sub!jay defender!

jay has always been rather service oriented, cooking, cleaning, and caring for his friends and loved ones like his life depended on it. never the one to be selfish, he’s always around to help someone whenever they need. sometimes though, like right now for example, he gets to be the one taken care of.

“please.” his voice is barely above a whisper, hair splayed out on the charcoal pillowcase and face flushed a noticeable red. your hand danced along the waistband of his boxers, hooking your finger under the elastic and running along its length, “please what?” his eyebrows are furrowed as he lets out a displeased sigh. “touch me, please.” the last bit of his sentence came out much softer than intended, a strange mixture of whiny and hushed. he props himself up on his elbows, a disheveled and pouty look on his face, his pupils were blown out and eyes are slightly red as he fights back the urge become teary eyed. you pull the fabric down in a quick motion, freeing him from the confines of the soft prison and he takes a deep breath. “you’re such a good boy, jay,” your praise is music to his ears. “always so polite and well mannered.” you bring your face down to his tip and spit on it, his small gasp not missed amongst the static air and faint sound of the television in the other room. “thank you…” jay is trailing off, he’s listening just like always but he’s distracted by the sight and feeling of you spreading spit across his tip and shaft. he blinks a few times before laying back down on the bed, “please suck me off, please,” he doesn’t want to wait anymore as your hand leisurely makes its way up and down. you take a moment of false contemplation, “please!” he’s much louder now, there’s determination behind his voice. while under most circumstances it’d be fun to keep going back and forth you decided that he really did deserve an easier go of things. with a bit more spit you kissed the pale brown tip and wrapped your lips around him, slowly making your down his length, which is no small feat. “thank you, thank you!” jay’s voice calls out so sweetly and his face is blotchy as his eyes well with small tears, your mouth keeps so good and he wanted this so bad. you take a deep breath before picking up the pace to give your boy what he wanted and deserved, small moans begin to fall out from his lips. the sound is lewd and wet and the room is hot—you’re hot, suddenly he’s hot. he looks down at you and you’re already looking right back at him. he mutters a small curse under his breath, pulling his shirt up to let more of the air touch his skin. “please don’t stop, keep going.” his hand slowly slides down towards your head, a gentle grasp on it, he’s not pushing you down but he really doesn’t want this to stop. your mouth around him and his dick covered in spit and precum, he’s pleading with every god he can think of for it to not stop. you pull off of him to catch your breath but you use your hand to keep stroking him; he whines and it’s a sound you could never get tired of. “you sound so pretty, be louder.” you meant for it to sound nicer but by the way he whimpers and nods in agreement you don’t think it matters. just as fast as you were off him, you’re back on, you always start slow because when he hits the back of your throat you choke a little—an inescapable side effect of giving head to jay. he moans at the sensation, “faster, please, wanna cum..” his wish is your command and you take the liberty to use both your mouth and hands. now he is much louder, he’s whining and moaning and every now and again whimpering. you can always tell he’s approaching his orgasm when he starts searching for your approval, his eyes have little tear stains next to them and his features are painted that same washed red. “please let me cum, i’ve been good!” you don’t respond as your mouth is a bit busy at the moment, “please, please, please, pleasepleaseplease…” he may be able to go on forever. you hum to him, the vibration is just the right amount to send him over the edge. you pull off as the thick liquid begins to fill your mouth, white strings flowing down your hand and spraying towards him abdomen. jay is panting and writhing but he’s so happy to have his release, “thank you so much.” even in a state of pure euphoria, he’d never forget his manners.

i did not proof read this so i’m sorry if there’s any mistakes, but i hope it helps satiate the hunger for sub!jay <3

[corpsedogs]

✿ my annoying siblings (req)

tim drake x f!assistant

more focused on the bat-family

( ♡ he just likes his assistant, is that wrong? )

“Yeah, okay I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks again.” Tim says before looking at the end call screen on his phone. Dick, who was sitting on a chair leaned back to look at him, “Who was that?” he asked. Tim didn’t look back but answered, “My assistant.” Dick’s eyes raised as he looked towards Bruce’s direction.

“Do you know about this?”

“No.” Bruce answers as he looks through his case files.

Stephanie perks up from the conversation. “Why’d you hire one?” Tim looks up at her, “I just needed help at work. You know, to balance my work better.” Tim shrugs, placing his phone in his pocket.

Damian crosses his arms, “Since when are you not capable of doing your tasks?” Tim glared at him, “I am capable, I just needed some help.”

Tim had hired a new assistant, you. It's been a few weeks since he has hired you, his initial plan was to keep you for a week before working by himself again. But god, how it made his life so easier.

Schedules, back reading paperwork, research. It was all done once he went back to see you. Not only that, but he also found you endearing. He would always admire how hard you worked and how you would always get the job done.

He can’t help but smile when you enter his office as you hold onto some paperwork in your arms or when he listens to your voice on the phone as you update on his schedule.

Jason raised his brow as he saw him staring to space, “You good?” Tim was snapped from his thoughts “Huh? Yeah.. just thinking about work.” Jason shrugged, not giving a care as he walked towards the exit of the batcave.

A day passed by and Tim was in Wayne enterprises. He looked up ahead and saw you making some coffee, he didn’t hesitate and walked to your side. Tim cleared his throat as you looked at him surprised, "Oh, sir. I'm so sorry I didn't see you. Did you want some coffee?"

“Yes please.” He says giving you a warm smile. You nodded as you prepared a cup, “Do you have any preferences?”

“Two sugar, with a splash of creamer would be great. Thank you.”

You nodded at his request and started to pour the warm water onto the cup.

Tim crosses his arms, “Anything I should take note of today?” he asks, you thought for a bit before shaking your head “Uh, no one seems to be asking for a meeting and.. the things you requested should be coming in here soon. So I suppose your schedule is quite free, should I write something down?”

Tim didn’t realize he had been zoning out while staring at you until he was back to reality. He blinked twice when he noticed you had been speaking. “Sorry, what was that?” he asked, feeling a bit dazed. “There's nothing important to report,” you repeated, “So your schedule is quite free today.” you said as you gave him his coffee.

Tim slowly took the warm cup from you, “Thank you.” he said, his fingers brushed against yours when he took the cup from your hands.

Free time.

He had been so busy lately that having a free day seemed strange. "You sure I don't have anything scheduled?” he asked, a bit of skepticism in his tone. You took out your phone to double check and nodded, “Well, yes. Unless you want to meet with someone today.” He took a sip of his coffee, savoring the bittersweet taste, “I was thinking…”

“I was wondering if… you’d like to have lunch with me?” You blanked out for a minute, “Me?” you pointed to yourself. “Oh, I mean. Sure, I’d love to sir.” Tim was surprised by how easy it was to convince you to accept his invitation. Not only that, but your eagerness to go was also surprising. Normally he’d expect someone to be skeptical when a boss asks you to have lunch with them.

He smiled warmly at you, “Great, I’ll pick you up at your desk at 12.”

Noon arrived. Tim was a bit nervous as he stood in front of your desk. He had taken off his suit jacket and loosened his tie for the occasion. Tim took a deep breath before tapping the top of your desk to get your attention. “Ready?” You nodded, “Yes, let me just tidy my things.”

Tim watched as you gathered your things, placing them in their proper folders. Once you were ready, the two of you left the building as Tim gestured to you to walk ahead of him.

The cafe wasn't a 5 minute walk for the building, when you approached the cafe, he opened the door for you, gesturing for you to walk in first. You sat down in one of the booths, “Is there a reason why you took me out for lunch sir?” you asked.

Tim shrugged his shoulders as he sat opposite of you, “I thought I’d treat you since you’ve been such a great help lately.”

“Oh, thank you.” you said. Tim could sense a bit of embarrassment in your voice as he replied.

The waitress came by to take the two of your orders. Tim looked at you first, “What’re you gonna have?” You looked down at the menu, then back up at him, "I’ll have the chicken parm and water, please." Tim nodded, then ordered once it was his turn, "I’ll get an iced green tea and the club sandwich."

The waitress took your orders and left the two of you to chat. Tim leaned back in his spot and studied you a bit more before he spoke, "How’s being my assistant like so far?”

You avoided eye contact a bit, “It's nice, the job is for me and I get nice pay.” you answered. He tried to reassure you, “I’m glad you like the job. And also, I don’t bite. You don’t need to be so nervous.”

“Well, it’s a little difficult for me to talk friendly to a higher up.” you nervously chuckled. “You don’t need to feel nervous talking to me. You’ve been doing a fantastic job as my assistant, if anything, I should be nervous talking with you.” he said jokingly, trying to lighten the mood.

You softly smiled, “Well, it was nice for you to take me out to lunch sir.” He smiled back at you as he spoke, “You’re welcome, but don’t call me ‘sir’ when we’re outside of work.”

Night time passed, Tim was on his Red Robin suit sitting on one of the rooftops watching from below. Behind him was Jason and Stephanie who accompanied him on patrol. Jason sat by him as he tapped his fingers on the stone floor, “So..” he trailed, “Who’s your date?” Stephanie asked.

Tim raised his brow at the two, “What date?” Stephanie crossed his arms “The date you had at the afternoon.” Tim looked at the two of them, deadpanning “What date...” oh no.

Tim stood up, “Have you two been spying on me??” Dick’s voice entered in the earpiece “And me.” he fuzzed in. Tim rolled his eyes in annoyance, “All of you were spying on me??” he asked, a bit frustrated.

Jason smirked, “What’s the matter, Red? Didn’t want us to find out who you were swooning over?” Tim narrowed his eyes at Jason, “I am not ‘swooning’ over anyone.” he replied.

Stephanie smirked as she joined in, "You definitely were. Who is it?"

“It’s nothing. Just lunch with an assistant,” he said. Jason scoffed, getting more of an idea of who “that assistant” was. “Since when did you start taking an interest in your assistants?”

Dick chimed in again ”That was your assistant??” Tim looked up at the sky in frustration, and nodded. Stephanie started to laugh, “Oh my god, you’ve got the hots for your assistant!” Tim huffed, he knew where this was going to go. “Why were you three spying on me anyway?”

“Because, we’re nosey.”, Dick said through the comms again. Jason crossed his arms, “You should get used to it by now.” Before Tim could say anything, Barbara chimed in. “Guys, task at hand please.” she said, thank you Barbara. “Let’s talk about this later.” Dick said, before he tuned out.

Tim is positive he won't see the light of day soon.

🍰 part two? maybe? please reblog and comment to support me 🙏

[trixie2023]

Reece. I have named him Reece. I love him and I need someone to write about him.😫. I’m not a writer and Definitely not an artist. That’s why I need someone to write him/Reece. I hate that I couldn’t find a better pic of him but y’all know who he is😉

I’m in lust I mean love with him❤️

[fun-esta]

[tackykachowch]

By the way, did we ever talk about how stupid it is that they made Silco the reason Felicia died? I don't mean that he killed her personally, but that he jumpstarted violence on a peaceful protest. Because that's sooo who Silco is, right? A character who makes impulsive and poorly thought out decisions, right? A character who goes into a fight headstrong without carefully planning his moves and strategy and just YOLO-ing it, right? Right?? ......sigh

And don't even THINK about giving me the whole "wElL hE cHaNgEd SiNcE tHeN dUh" crap. Even s2 is smart enough to show us him writing something in a notebook in a flashback, which implies that he was the brains behind the Lanes' creation/revolution as a whole. And if he was he would never sabotage his own plans with something so stupid as throwing a single molotov at enforcers. Literally who does that???? Silco we know would probably organize an attack under the guise of a peaceful protest, but not just. Straight-up ruining just a regular peaceful protest. That's stupid. And Silco is the last character in arcane that would do something stupid. Literally the whole plot of season 1 relies on him being intelligent and sneaky with his plans are you kidding me.

[randomfandomss]

WHERE IS THE COMPULSORY BAKE OFF CONCLAVE FIC?????

With these queens in the tent?!?! It would totally fuckkkk!!!!

[belle-rosse]

In the trailer for act 2 we see the Firelights think that Ekko is dead because, well, no one is aware of his situation with the Hexcore.

And then there’s that frame of Sevika talking to Vander’s statue, where she says, 'we have lost so many.' Interestingly, that same statue has 'Ekko' written on it, which we clearly see in season one.

Could it be that Sevika tells Jinx that Ekko hasn’t returned? That Jinx believes Ekko is dead too? Is this what triggers the undercity alliance, including the firelights?

I am thinking thoughts. I cannot stop thinking thoughts. This won't happen but I need to see it happen.

[starryeyeddreamer21]

god Alastor au

Before earth and even before angels God made powerful beings to join him in heaven they were even closer in his image than humans giving them the title gods (lowercase g).

Alastor was one of these beings. He wasn't the most powerful or the smartest but he was a trickster god (think Loki) so he was crafty.

So when God decided him and his siblings were too powerful Alastor came up with a plan that would save himself.

He made a deal so God would take his soul instead of his life.

Unfortunately for Alastor he didn't get to keep his freedom. He was locked up.

Heaven was expanded, angels were created, then earth, then humans.

Alastor was locked up long until after Lucifer fell and another angel took his place. An angel named Emily.

Emily was curious and while exploring she managed to find Alastor in the darkest corner of heaven. She didn't understand who he was and so they started talking.

Alastor was shocked at how much had changed since he had last seen light. He was excited too. Evil? In the world? He wanted to be out there with it.

So he waited. He bided his time, getting closer to Emily and gaining her trust. He would teach her magic so she could eventually let him out but he actually started to like her too. It had been a long time since someone was so genuinely nice to him.

Emily would also keep him updated on current events. One day she showed up seeming unnerved and told Alastor that God was gone. Apparently no one knew where he was and he would only (very rarely) talk to Metatron.

This was music to his ears. This would make his approaching escape much easier.

Finally he decided Emily was ready to help him escape. The spell was difficult and drained her almost to death. Alastor healed her the best he could but she would never be the same.

He could see the betrayed look on her face and when he apologized he really did mean it. He didn't want her to get hurt it was just the only way.

He left, sparing only a second to grab the small radio Emily had gifted him when they'd been invented.

He made his way to earth and he loved it there. The chaos and sin was perfect for him and he could get away with anything.

Unfortunately heaven came after him. He spent a good 30 years on earth before he had no choice but to run or be caught.

The only place he could go this time was hell.

[panchulien]

Me 🤝🏻 You

Bullying Nik for self enrichment purposes

(I love the rejection one it hurt so bad)

ahaha yesss YES >:) i love putting him in situations!! thinking about how he would react to certain things is so fun. i love this guy...

[musashi]

they should invent a asking for help with writing that doesn't completely ruin your self esteem/excitement

[yuurikatsukienthusiast]

Victor, when I catch you, Victor...

Yuuri was so happy at first too ☹️

[shawnxstyles]

fuck.

[kangaracha]

daffodil + chan

a song

the prompt: daffodil (a god bows before a mortal)

read it on ao3

---

"You have no power over me."

running through his hands like water, and suddenly the earth is not his to control. The skies do not turn with the twist of his head, lightning does not fork in the air when his eyes, dark as night and yet still lit by some unearthly light, fall upon you, his mouth wide as if to gasp for a breath he cannot take-

And yet, still, it shivers down your spine; the magic that draws you here even as you rip it apart, the prize of your conquest to rip the world into two.

"Take it back," he hisses through his teeth, the ground trembling with every syllable that slides down his tongue. You watch his mouth as it forms the words, the flash of teeth behind thin lips reminding you of the way that the swordsman you'd fought through to get here had smiled at you - the last of his seven challenges, the last of his demons, or angels, or citizens of the sprawling, damned city he claimed as his kingdom.

And here you stood, at the pinnacle of the eighth, and stared him in the eye without cringing away because now you knew the truth. Now you knew that what he whispered in the dark was a lie and what you saw with your eyes wasn't always true, and though he may be a god and a king amongst beings that you could never hope to rival, a god can only hold as much power as you give him. A god can only claim dominion over a beast that bowed to his dogma. 

You see now that you are no beast. You are no believer in any lie he utters to the darkness.

"Take it back," he says again, the note of his voice changing. He pleads, his brow furrowing and his shoulders curling in as if waiting for the final blow. "Take it back now, before it's too late."

"I can't," you tell him, and you watch him fall to his knees, and you know that it's wrong and your heart pounds in your chest and it

like the ground does at the impact of his knees, crumbling into the pieces it was in when you first took his hand, alone on the side of the road with only one thing to call your own. And what was that thing, the little warmth you'd held to your chest in the dark and the cold? What had you traded away for the comfort of the house that crumbled around you now? Why had you destroyed him to get it back, where was it now, why did it not appear within his hands at this, the hour of his reckoning?

"Please," he spits into the cold ground, the dirt and the leaves and the curl of ivy that grows up the walls around you, old and ancient and not yet sprouted from its roots all at the same time. His hands curl in the dirt like he can reach down and pull the earth to him, like he can stop the wane of his power if he just tries to hold on a little bit tighter. "I know what you want, and I don't have it. I can't lose-"

Broken, fragile thing. Small god of limited earth, crouched at your feet like he might worship you instead. You'd thought him all-powerful once, and then you'd thought him severe and his servants and beasts and playthings petty, and then you'd thought him

because he'd smiled at you in the garden that bloomed from his own hands when you expressed your desire for a flower to tuck in the braid of your dark hair, and his hand had been soft in yours, and when he looked out across his kingdom and the clamouring faces of the people he'd brought to live there, he'd looked at them the same way that he'd looked at you.

Beneath your foot, the ground cracks, fracturing outwards like a spiderweb. It's your heart, you realise morosely, sinking from your chest and into the depths of the earth, disappearing with whatever he'd taken from you; and it was a wretched thing and it had betrayed you a hundred times over, but you still mourn at the loss of it and all the dreams it had carried with it. It blooms in your flowers in the corners of the room, embeds itself into the land and sings along with the song of his power, a thing you can hear but cannot touch, a beast once born that now does not belong to you.

"I'm sorry," he says, his breath like mist in the cold air, and even without your heart, you can't bear to see him so cold.

Your hands reach for him without permission, your body kneeling in the dirt before you can stand your feet firm upon the earth and refuse to move. He flinches away, but your fingers are soft upon his chin and the curve of his jaw, gentle when they brush the soft dip of his neck. "I only wanted to know what it was," you tell him with a voice that cannot hold itself steady. "I thought if you loved me, you would give it back." It's the only voice you have - you are not like him, or like Felix, speaking with many tongues. You don't have any power of your own.

"It's because I love you that I can't give it back." His voice is hoarse, every word a knife that he swallows without ever once flinching. "It's because I love you that I couldn't tell you what it was."

"But didn't I deserve to know?" you question. "Doesn't my life belong to me?"

Finally, his eyes rise, looking up at you with a fire that belies the cold of his skin. "Of course it does," he gasps, and his hand reaches up, dirt-stained fingers dragging at your cheek. "That's why I gave it to you, and I never asked for anything else."

"But you wouldn't give back what you took in the first place."

The sudden violence of his voice crumbles the walls and fractures the sky, the clouds blooming te dark colours of a bruise. The absence of his hand on your cheek stings in the cold; his face turns away, screwed up in regret and a pain he won't allow you to feel. You lurch forward before he can disappear, drawing him into your arms; stiff shoulders, spine of beaten steel, slow beat of a heart you once held in your hands. 

He'd stood so tall and unmoving in the morning light, when you'd first walked down this path, and now in the dark of the setting sun and the ending of the earth, his weight slumps into your grasp, his resolve melting into the warmth of your body. "I didn't want you to suffer again," he says to the soft cotton of your shirt and the curve of your collarbone, his breath a whisper against your skin. "I couldn't watch that, when you asked me to make sure it would never happen again."

Surprise comes in the pause of your breath and the still of your arms, the jump of a heart you're not sure you still possess. "I asked you to make me forget?" you question the world behind his back, and into your neck, he sighs.

"You couldn't forget," he murmurs. "She was dead before I found you, and when I took her from your arms - you couldn't forget. There was nothing I could do to fix what had been broken. And then you begged me to let you forget, so I remembered her for you." He pauses, his throat hitching like he's swallowing something down. A sob maybe, or the tears he will never let fall. "I can't give her back though. She's not here anymore."

You push him upright, your hands on his shoulders, his neck, his face. Brushing away the hair that falls in his eyes, wiping at the blood that drips from the cut on his cheek. "Why didn't you tell me?" you ask, because the answer is incomprehensible. "Why did you let me go this far?"

"Because I was scared," he admits, and his teeth clench and his spine stiffens against the urge to hide away from you again. "Because I'm a wretched, evil, stupid thing who thinks they can-"

His words die in your throat; vile, wretched things that you store away to spit out later, into the ground where they belong. He is none of that; he is soft, and hesitant, until your fingers find the sharp curve of his hip and the lines of his back, dragging him closer and his lips open like there is nothing in the world to devour but you and