#hell I’m the only one who bothers to make sure he does it BEFORE he gets the zero in the grade book

[theamazingannie]

Not my mom asking me what my brother’s email and password is and me knowing it lmao. Why does no one around here even acknowledge that I’m more of a parent to my brother than they are

#she’s mad that he listens to me better than he listens to her #not only do not constantly yell at him and not bother to work with him #but Im the one who wakes him up in the morning #Im the one that makes sure he showers and goes to bed at a decent time #Im the one who helps him with his homework #hell I’m the only one who bothers to make sure he does it BEFORE he gets the zero in the grade book #and he doesn’t even see me as an authority figure because they don’t respect me so why should he #if I try to punish him or reinforce his behavior in any way they always overrule me #and then give him a worse reinforcement tactic that clearly doesn’t work #like i really feel like we’d be better off if they just fucked off and left me completely in charge of him #they refuse to take any accountability yet blame me for anything he does wrong #they are literally such shit parents and it took them so long to realize it because my sister and I parented ourselves #but my brother was spoiled too much growing up so he never learned how and they never learned how to parent #and refuse to learn now #they get mad if I try to offer any tips despite being the only one who’s ever successful #they ignore the fact that I have a degree in psychology and took classes in childhood development because I don’t have the experience #but apprently they don’t have the experience either or else they’d be better at this! #Ugh it’s so annoying watching them do everything wrong and being comoelehlt powerless to do anything #i cant imagine how bad it would be if I wasn’t here #they’d probably beat him constantly since I’m the only one that can stop them #the only thing they really provide is transportation and money #and still they’re too lazy to drive us around anywhere half the time and are constantly blowing their money on frivolous things #so we don’t have enough sometimes to pay bills or have nice dinners #that *I* make btw cuz they’re too lazy to #which is fine cuz I don’t work but before I moved back in they were eating ramen noodles and mac and cheese every day #and have the audacity to say I don’t do shit around here #they would FLOUNDER without me #god i cant wait until I can get out of here but I literally don’t know if I ever will cuz ive not been well mentally #and theyre behavior isn’t helping

[angelsheartts]

୭ JEALOUSY ˚. ᵎᵎ ~

#pairing : lucifer, adam, alastor, angel dust, husk, valentino, vox, x gn reader.

#cw: jealousy?, +18 in valentino's/vox's part, suggestive content ig, cuss words lmao.

#notes: u guys don’t know how much i wanna know why lilith made a deal with adam, and how could she even fumbled lucifer.

⋆.ೃ- LUCIFER .

i don't think lucifer gets jealous easily, at least, but if he is jealous, he will surely become reallyyyy clingy and will try to show off. i mean, he's the sin of pride, after all.

being the partner of the king of hell really meant that there would always be people staring at you, even ones who had no shame at all and would flirt with you, sometimes even in front of lucifer.

"would you mind if I bought you a drink, sweetheart?" a powerful overlord asked you, making lucifer raise an eyebrow and look at the overlord with one of his annoyed characteristics expressions, and before you could even reply anything, lucifer had already bought you both the whole menu of drinks while clinging onto you. "do you think this is enough for you, (name)?" he asked, making the overlord stop bothering you both and making you gasp a soft sigh, knowing he did all of this with such an innocent face, as if he wasn’t getting annoyed just a second ago.

⋆.ೃ- ADAM .

his ego is too big for him to even consider the idea of being jealous, but boy, does he want to get rid of the fucking asshole who is talking to you.

even though you were adam's third wife/adam's first husband, you were nice to being around. not like your husband, who always made snarky comments about everything and everyone.

sometimes, though, people would flirt with you without you noticing, making your husband really irritated and dragging you away while flipping off the angel who initially flirted with you and making some snarky remarks about them. "(name), that bitch was literally fucking you with his eyes! you should have called me before, next time make sure to be around me, got it?" adam called out, making you giggle since his insults were sometimes so unexpected.

⋆.ೃ- ALASTOR .

alastor is the kind of guy who wouldn’t get jealous; maybe once an extermination you would see him acting a little possessive over you, but really, this guy knows your soul belongs to him, so why would there be a need to feel jealous?

actually, only your friends at the hazbin hotel where the only ones who knew about your relationship with alastor; it made sense, since he knew you could get in danger if someone else found out.

that didn’t meant that angel dust wouldn’t take the opportunity to flirt with you as a joke while trying to get a reaction from you. "(name), i think you would get pretty popular if you started to appear on my films" he said jokingly to you, while alastor just looked at him with his usual smile "i don’t think that (name) would want to get involved in that kind of stuff, angel dust, isn’t that right, dear?" alastor answered, kissing your cheek, and leaving you speechless since he mostly kept his affection for when the both of you where alone.

⋆.ೃ- ANGEL DUST .

for me, he may get jealous depending on who's hitting on you; if it’s some random imp, it won’t really bother him; he will just tell them to fuck off themselves and leave you alone, but if it’s someone like valentino, oh boy, he acts VERY different.

angel dust didn’t really like you being in the porn studios were he works, because he knows that valentino is waiting to say anything to you, and because he simply thinks you don’t belong in a place like that. he thinks you’re much better working at the hazbin hotel or wandering around the pride ring.

"(name), aren’t you a supportive one? you know that if you want, i could make you a star lik-" "val, we're on set soon" angel dust spoke, looking angrily at valentino. "well, looks like your little boyfriend doesn’t want me to talk to you; i’m sure we’ll have plenty of time the next time," valentino whispered, making you stand there awkwardly.

as you both were finally at the hazbin hotel, anthony asked you not to come next time, since he really didn’t want valentino talking to you ever again. "(name), you know i really don’t want to get you in trouble, and you know that outside of the studio we can do whatever the fuck we want, but still, thanks for the snack you brought." he said, smirking, and letting you cuddle into his arms like you always do after an exhausting day.

⋆.ೃ- HUSK .

husk would only get jealous or, well, mostly, frustrated if someone interrupted you both, like if you both are just having a wholesome moment and someone just steals your attention from him, he’s a cat after all AND will be grumpy afterward.

you were having a nice chat with husk while having a drink at his bar, but as he was explaining you something, alastor came along and asked you something between the lines of 'if you had seen charlie or vaggie' since he had to talk to them about some business about the hazbin hotel.

after alastor left, you turned to look at your partner, noticing how he had been growling this entire time. it wasn’t really loud, though. "tsk, that radio demon really needed to ruin the atmosphere," he said, making you give him a look "what? you know, i dislike the idea of him thinking that he can just do whatever he pleases with my stuff." hearing your partner's words, you knew you had to reassure him that even though alastor had interrupted you both, your attention was still set on him and no one else.

⋆.ೃ- VALENTINO .

he’s valentino, he surely and kind of obviously gets jealous whenever you’re talking to someone that isn’t him.

the workers in the studio know that since you worked there, you've only filmed with valentino; nobody questions why, and nobody really cares whatever reason their boss has to not let you fuck with others.

today, though, a worker intended to jokingly flirt with you. "(name), i think that if we make a video together, even the most pure souls would want to watch it" oh, well, that wasn’t even a little funny to valentino.

"such a slut for me, mmh? you really thought my sweet (name) would even think about fucking with you?" valentino smirked, while thrusting into you. he had his eyes set on the demon who flirted with you, not even caring about the fact that he was on set.

⋆.ೃ- VOX .

this man has the same jealousy problems, or even worse, than valentino. he's actually such an attention whore, so he obviously would despise everyone who tries to flirt with you.

actually everyone who works for the vees knows how jealous vox is, and that’s because this is a situation that often happens: if someone is even looking at you a little longer than usual, he will become insecure and try ANYTHING he can so he can have your attention on him. like i mentioned, he’s an attention whore.

today, the outfit that velvette chose for you might have made some people stare back at you. i mean he can’t judge them; you looked so fucking good in it, but hell does he want to have you all by himself, so what does he does? take you to his office so he can have you all by himself.

"(name)," he mutters while keeping his hands all over your body. "you knew what you were doing, huh? making everyone stare at your body, but i’m such a good partner for not making a fuss about it, right?" he asked, waiting for you to atleast praise him, 'cause like a already mentioned he’s an attention wh- lmao.

#lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel adam #alastor #angel dust #hazbin hotel husk #valentino #hazbin hotel vox #female reader #gn reader #lucifer x reader #adam x reader #alastor x reader #angel dust x reader #husk x reader #valentino x reader #vox x reader #hazbin hotel #jealousy #smut

[samandcolbyownme]

hey can you do one where like y/n does only fans and colby finds out about it?

Warnings: strong language, onlyfans star!reader, friends to lovers

New series called Snippets. I will write a little for each request and then keep them all together so I can come back later and use them to write a full one shot. Hope that makes sense! Thank you!

══════════════════

Colby sounded different on the phone, he didn’t tell you anything was wrong, but you could tell there was something bothering him.

You liked Colby.

A lot.

The one thing that’s been holding you back from telling him about said feelings, is mainly your onlyfans page. You were sure whether or not Colby would be okay with that, and to be honest, you pay your bills with that money.

You wanted Colby, yes. But you weren’t sure if he wanted someone that has shown their tits for money.

After an hour and a half of taking pictures in different colored lingerie for your page, you wrapped it up at the perfect time because you hear the front door open and close with a powerful shove.

You shove your tripod in your closet and the lingerie at the bottom of your bottom dresser drawer and turn around just as there’s a knock on your door.

“Come in.”

The door opens and Colby walks in, “Hey.”

You give him a smile, “What’s up, Colbs?” Your smile fades when he doesn’t look at you for a few seconds, “Colby?”

His words shocked you, “Do you do porn?”

You blink a few times, “um. I mean yes and no.”

“What do you mean yes and no?” He turns towards you, “Do you just go through guys? Like what? how does that work?”

You hold up your hand, “Whoa, back it the hell up. What is your deal?”

Colby sighs, “My deal, is that you do porn and you never told me?”

You laugh slightly, mainly trying to cover up your nervousness, “Colby it’s not straight porn. Okay? I do OnlyFans. I don’t do anything nude. Well..”

He looks at you, “What do you do?”

You grab your laptop and bring it towards you. You get in, clicking around until you pull up your page, “Here. Look. The only really bad thing is that I show my boobs. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it.”

He walks over, sitting down beside you as he takes your laptop. You can tell there’s a positive change to his demeanor and you bite your lip, “So.. who told?”

Colby laughs, “well.. actually.” He looks over at you, “one of Sam’s buddies sent him a screen shot and asked if it was you.”

He looks back at the computer screen and scrolls down, “It was this picture actually.” He point to the screen and you purse your lips, “That was a money post.”

“What’s that mean?” Colby looks at you and you can’t help but giggle, “It means.. you have to pay to see the photo.. and who ever sent that to Sam.. paid to see it.”

“So, they’re subscribed to you?” Colby asks and you nod, “or someone else he knows is?” You shrug, “I’m not sure, Colby.”

He just stares at you, “Huh.” He jocks his jaw and nods, “Mm. Okay.”

“So what? Are you like mad at me? Not friends anymore?” You purse your lips, “Like does this make you look at me different?”

Colby shakes his head, “Not really. Well.. I mean, okay. Yeah I see you differently now, but like..” he scratches his brow, “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I didn’t want to tell you because I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about it and I didn’t want to risk ruining our friendship.”

Colby chuckles, “Ruined?” He shake his head, “No. not at all. As I said. Different.. a hundred percent.”

“Different?” You ask as you tilt your head and he nods, “Oh yeah. You’re so much hotter than I originally thought.”

You can feel your cheeks growing warm and Colby’s next question didn’t help any matters, “So how do you feel about potentially doing porn?”

Fuck, you think, “Um. I mean..” you laugh slightly and look down before looking at Colby, “Maybe if it was someone I was comfortable with?”

You nod, Colby heavy on your mind, “Yeah. I think I could do it.”

A smirk grows on his lips as he slowly leans in, giving a nod to the right with his head, “Go get those pretty little outfits, because we’re about to be making you bank, baby.”

══════════════════

Let me know how you like these snippets so far and as always, ilysm thank you for reading 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

#samandcolby-ownme #snippets #Colby Brock #sam and colby one shots #Colby Brock smut #colby brock one shots #Making Bank #updates #anon request #onlyfans!y/n #onlyfans star!y/n #colby brock x reader #dirty colby brock #colby brock dirty imagines #smut #fluff #friends to lovers #sam and colby

[am-i-interrupting]

Making Self Deprecating Jokes Around Them

For @aliceneedsphalis

Alastor

Before you got together, he’d chuckle at the jokes but as he started to care about you the laughter would begin to fade.

He’d begin to ask the question, “Who made you think of yourself this way?”

If you could give him the name of people, expect them to be gone when he “crosses paths” with them.

It’s completely unrelated to what you revealed, he promises.

No, no, he just happened to stumble upon them acting a fool and decided to set them straight is all.

It wasn’t until you got together that he started to refute your “jokes.”

The first time he gave a gentle flick to the back of your head, you turned to him gobsmacked.

“Why did you do that?!” “I have rules, my dear, and one of those is to not let the object of my affections talk bad about themselves.”

At some point, you just expect it.

On occasion, you’ll say something and expect it only to not get it.

“What are you doing?” “I’m waiting on you to flick the back of my head.” “Why is that? I do have a sense of humor.”

He’ll wait until you let your guard down and then flick your head as he walks by. It’s no fun if you know it’s coming.

He does try to build your confidence though.

Randomly he’ll pop into your room with a list, a list of all the negative things you’ve said about yourself.

He’ll hold you in front of a mirror and make you look at both yourself and him as he praises what you’ve unconsciously revealed you dislike.

He doesn’t hold back his amusement as he watches you squirm.

Husk

He lets you make the jokes even if he doesn’t like them.

He’s not going to laugh. He barely even reacts.

One day though, he’ll let slip how he feels.

“Do you really think it’s funny, hating yourself? Because I don’t. You cope however you need to. I’m not going to blame you for that but it hurts to see someone I care about so much treat themself so badly.”

He might team up with Charlie or Hell, even Rosie to try to figure out a way to change your coping though.

It’s not overt but more so an offering of different ways for you to cope instead. Giving you more options than the one you have even if you still fall to the crutch.

He’s not one who’s too much of a fan of PDA, much less words of affirmation in public.

In private though, he’s constantly building you up.

He whispers how beautiful, funny, insightful, and strong he thinks you are.

He’ll be half asleep and playing with your hair, watching it weave through his claws, as he looks at you with pupils so blown they take over all the color and go on about how lucky he is to have you.

Rosie

“Now why would ya say that about yourself, hon?” is what she asks the first time you make a joke of that kind.

She wants to help you get to the root of your problems.

She’s going to subtly break into your walls and get the damn to break that holds all the secrets to why you feel this way.

She may or may not give Alastor some names if she hears them.

She might get some kind of positivity train going.

One day you just get a bunch of letters and gifts from friends that explain how much they appreciate and care for you. When you wonder aloud if there’s any special occasion you missed, Rosie just shrugs.

She is a bragger by nature, I believe, but she’d take care to make sure you were in ear shot if she could when she starts bragging about you.

She wants you to know how much she truly cares and appreciates you.

She’ll let everyone else know in the process though.

Vox

This man did not give a single flying fuck about how you saw yourself until he started caring about you in an intimate way.

It’s not that it didn’t bother him before but it didn’t bother him enough for him to make time to do something about it.

He’s a busy man and he’s used to being surrounded by people (*cough cough* Valentino *cough cough*) who will talk his ears off about their problems that he doesn’t actually care about.

He’s not just going to make you spill why you see yourself the way you do without a good enough reason.

He might even laugh at some.

He is a nervous/uncomfortable laughs though so just because he laughs doesn’t mean he finds it funny.

Even when you start dating, he’s not going to ask you why. He’s just going to listen to you ramble about your life and death and out pieces together.

Certain people he looks for on his camera and they disappear.

Aside from singing your praises and showering you with gifts though, he doesn’t really know what to do.

#vox x reader #hazbin vox x reader #hazbin rosie x reader #rosie x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin husk x reader #husk x reader

[rafeandonlyrafe]

only a little jealous

words: 700

warnings: established relationship, girls flirting with your boyfriend, drinking

“no seriously, does she not know that we are together?” you ask your friend, watching a girl flaunt herself in front of rafe, who looks completely disinterested as he sips his beer. you’re not even sure if he realizes that she’s showing off for him as she’s dancing right in front of where she’s sat.

“she probably doesn’t care.” your friend replies, and her words ring true when the girl makes eye contact with you, smirking. 

“oh, hell no.” you say, leaving your friend by the table as you head over to rafe. you walk past the girl, making sure to knock into her as she sways her hips. you sit yourself down right on rafes lap, who gives you a big smile, the first one he’s had on his face since you left him to go chat with your girlfriends.

“hi beautiful.” rafe says, squeezing your bare thigh as you peck a kiss to his cheek, leaving a mark with your peach lip gloss.

“hi handsome.” you say in response, smirking as the girl walks away now that you’re back, taking up all of rafes attention, not that he even cared about her in the first place. “you okay, baby?” he asks, squeezing your hip. you nod, but you know the sour look on your face is still evident. 

“babyyy.” rafe warns. you roll your eyes and fall against his body, resting your head against his neck. “i just hate the way everyone flirts with you.”

rafe lets out a barking laugh, making you furrow your brows and pinch his side. “rafe!”

“no, it’s cute, it’s so cute.” rafe laughs, arms squeezing you tightly against him. “you’re so jealous.”

“i’m a little jealous.” you correct him. “and it’s only because girls trip over themselves for you.” “if you’re only a little jealous why’d you come over here as soon as a girl got within five feet?” 

“i just missed you. i’m going back to my friends right now.” you say defiantly, too stubborn to admit that it really bothered you.

“okay…” rafe looks expectantly at you, and you eventually get up. you leave him with a kiss on his lips as you head back to your girlfriends, always meeting his eyes and seeing the smirk on his lips when you glance over at him.

you let out a sigh of relief with topper comes to sit next to rafe. you hope that no girls would interrupt their conversation so you decide it’s finally time to dance. it’s toppers party, and he assured rafe that there wouldn’t be too many guys, that way he could feel secure with letting you go off on your own.

a favorite song of your friend group comes on and you all squeal, heading to the dance floor to twirl around and sing. you dance for a couple more songs until your feet start to hurt in your heels and you need a drink. you leave your friends, promising you’ll be back soon.

you head to the makeshift bar, grabbing a white claw before heading to find rafe. you see him still sitting in the same chair, but instead of topper occupying the sofa next to him, it’s two girls. one is dressed in an incredibly low cut top, you’re honestly surprised that her boobs aren’t completely exposed. 

rafe isn’t even looking towards them, but you can see him replying with one word answers. your blood boils, wishing that people would just leave your boyfriend alone, especially when he clearly wasn’t interested. it’s not like there girls were just looking for a conversation as they twirl their hair and bite their lips.

you walk over, realizing you know one of the girls from high school.

“oh, hey madison.” you say, faking the excitement in your voice. “i see you’ve met my boyfriend. so sweet of you girls to attempt to entertain him while i was dancing, but rafe seems awful bored, so i’ll take over from here.”

madison goes to reply, but you cut her off with a big smile plastered on your face. “buh-bye!” 

you sit down on rafes lap, not even watching them walk away as you place your hand on rafes jaw, guiding his lips against yours. slightly too buzzed to feel embarrassment, you let yourself get lost in the kiss.

“literally so jealous.” rafe mumbles against your lips, biting it gently before releasing it with a chuckle.

“oh if you wanna see jealous, i can go dance with topper.” you say, starting to get up, but rafe grabs your hips and pulls you back down onto his lap, “oh, i don’t think so.”

#reupload! #rafe fic #rafe fanfic #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron one shot

[endless-ineffabilities]

in the shadow of your heart (part two of two)

Daemon Targaryen x f!Reader

requested by anon: inspired by the plot of the movie Flipped, where the reader openly pines for Daemon, but he always brushes her off until one day, she stops bothering him.

word count: 11.2k ▪︎ part one ▪︎ masterlist

themes: pining, angst, language, Daemon being Daemon, slight Cregan Stark x f!reader, some smut (18+)

“Greetings, Prince Daemon.” Cregan Stark is the first to speak. His genial manner is something that draws everyone to him, warm and earnest. The Lord of the North is much beloved, and with good reason. As he assesses Prince Daemon, he easily notices the agitation in the prince’s stance. The confusion in his eyes. If Cregan also notices the subtle envy collecting in Daemon’s expression, he does not let it show.

“Lord Stark,” he saunters in your direction, slowly, like a predator who has finally cornered his prey. Taking in the competition like a practiced fighter.

“Lady Y/n.” He calls you by name, and you realize how much of a rarity it is. It’s always just You, a statement more than an endearment, or my little shadow. You still don’t know what to make of the latter. Shadow. Does that mean you are indispensable, a part of him he can never shake? Or does he see you as an unwanted presence?

“Daemon. How have you been, my prince?” An attempt at cordiality from you. You know Daemon doesn’t care much for such dialogue, but what else is there to say?

Why did you not show up at my nameday, like you promised?

Have you been finding comfort in Mysaria’s arms?     

Have I even crossed your mind, even once, or is my absence something that you welcome?

But you don’t make any of these thoughts heard. You don’t believe there would be a point. Besides, there is no need to air out your grievances whilst in the company of Cregan.

“I don’t know, my lady. Perhaps you could enlighten me. I have roamed nearly every inch of the palace grounds, and I’ve only just found you. You have not come to see me as of late, either.”

“I was not aware that you were expecting me, my prince.”

He scoffs, hating how formal you were being. Was this a show you were putting on for the Stark boy? Where are your throwaway smiles and your playful quips? Your appreciative gaze, drinking him in as if it were always the first time?

Cregan comes to your rescue, “I’m afraid I may be to blame for taking up the lady’s time, Prince Daemon. She makes for excellent company, as I think you know. She’s kindly been showing me around King’s Landing.”

“You’ve been around King’s Landing before, Stark. We were not aware you have taken a particular interest in the ins and outs of the city, but we’d be more than happy to provide you with our best maester to tell you everything you need to know. I’m sure the lady has much better things to do with her time. Besides, after a while, you might like a change of scenery. One that she wouldn’t know how to provide.”

What in the seven hells is that supposed to mean? Of course, the first time you meet in a long while, Daemon has surely stored some kind words to tell you.

“Don’t worry, Daemon. I can assure you that we’ve been making good use of our time together,” you look at him directly, no longer bothering with the niceties. Daemon knows how you really are, after all. He’s seen you flustered, embarrassed, angry. Mostly, he’s seen you pining. Wanting. For him. You’ve always been open around him, not holding anything back. Daemon enjoyed your brazenness, so unlike the other frilly maidens who clamber for his attention. But what changed?

“If you don’t mind, Lord Stark, I’d like a moment alone with the lady.” Daemon readily meets your gaze, barely giving mind to Cregan, who is now halfway covering you from his vision, as if preparing to protect you from him should the need arise. The nerve of this fucking Northern Lord.

“Honour demands that I only leave if this is what the lady wishes, Prince Daemon.” Cregan declares, his voice steady.

Bloody Northerners and their honour. “I was not presenting you with a request, Stark. Try not to get on my nerve.”

“Alright,” you speak up, “it’s okay, Cregan. I’ll come find you later.”

Daemon notes the familiarity with which you addressed the Stark boy, and it doesn’t sit well with him. “Yes, run along, young wolf.” He doesn’t drop your gaze, doesn’t watch Cregan walk away.

So, he also does not notice Cregan throw you a comforting wink as he disappears from view, leaving you with Daemon on the rooftop. Daemon’s mood considered; this is probably for the best.

The air is thick with words unsaid, and while Daemon relaxes his stance, his face betrays a storm of emotion. Ones that he is not equipped to deal with. Jealousy? Unrequited yearning? Uncertainty? What can he possibly say that would be enough? So he settles for, “You look well, my shadow.”

“As do you, my prince. Enjoying the comforts of home, I’d hope?”

“Tell me this,” Daemon impatience flares, “why have I not seen you around? They used to be rare, the days in which you would not simply make your presence known to me.”

“That’s why I got to be called your shadow, was it not? That I was always following you around like a pest, driving you to irritation. There were moments wherein I could swear that I saw you grimace at my arrival - ”

“A pest?” He looks taken aback. He reaches for your arm, but you sidestep and fold your arms behind you, “Y/n, where is all this coming from?”

“I think you know quite well, Daemon.”

“Would it delight you to hear that I may have missed your company, no matter how unreasonably persistent it might have been?” Daemon’s smirk is dangerous, capable of breaking through your icy approach.

“Unreasonably persistent? Is this your way of making amends, my prince? You might need a lesson in tact from your markedly more diplomatic brother.”

“I was never one to bother with needless flattery. Unless directed at me, of course.” His smirk grows even wider, enjoying the resurgence of your familiar banter.

Your tone turns sour, almost angry even, one that Daemon has not heard before, “You promised that you would attend my nameday festivities, and yet you did not. I waited for you, like the stupid little shadow that you have deemed me to be, and for nothing. I don’t know why I even expected you to come, given what you clearly think of me.” Your voice breaks at the end, and it snags at Daemon’s heart.

“I did not think you cared much for such frivolities, and…well, I…”

“No, I did not. I don’t. I only cared whether you would be there, so that I might see you. So that you might greet me with the smug smirk of yours. So that you might even ask me for a dance,” you pace around Daemon, your mind lost in thought of what could have been, “But no matter. It’s all over and done with now. We can keep such nonsense in the past, Prince Daemon. You no longer need to waste your time with me.”

“Y/n,” he says your name with such clarity, such emotion, as he moves to narrow the space between the two of you, “I sincerely apologize if I was not there for your nameday. Had I thought that my presence would mean that much to you, then I surely would have come.”

That’s not enough, Daemon. That’s not what I need.

You notice the sincerity in his eyes as he continues, “I don’t want you to be cross with me. And… I don’t want you to think that I… think little of you. You are not. You are - ”

“You were like my sun, you know. My entire world revolved around you. You were in everything that I could see.” Your face morphs into a mixture of sadness, and longing, and acceptance. Daemon notes that you were speaking of things as if it were already in the past, and he does not like it at all.

He lets you continue, even though it pains him to see the turmoil in your expression, “Daemon, I… I thought about you when I woke, and when I went to bed. You were intoxicating… and fucking infuriating, because you clearly did not share the same sentiment when it came to me. I was simply there.”

“Listen, I don’t know what you fucking expect of me,” he counters, not willing to comprehend that your words can bring him to fold so quickly, “but you know exactly who I am. What I am, my shadow.”

“Did I not make it clear to you just how I felt?” You ask. Your gazes are locked and heated. The distance between you has narrowed, and he can feel your warm breath on his face. He notices the way your chest rises and falls, the slope of your breasts, the furrowing of your eyebrows which he finds endearing. You stand so close, an alluring distraction, nearly making him lose all train of thought.

“For fuck’s sake, of course. Everyone could see it!” He snaps, raising his voice at you.

“And yet, it did not matter.”

“No, it matters - ” he pauses, looking away, “I just… don’t know…”

You straighten, “You know what, it’s perfectly fine, Daemon. Why were you looking for me?”

“I thought I already mentioned. I was wondering where you’ve been all this time. Whatever wrongs you believe I have done to you, it was never my intention. I do not wish to be rid of your presence. It does not…” When his eyes capture yours once again, you see the inner turmoil reflected within, “It does not feel right without you around… my shadow.”

You want so badly to take his hand as you had done so many times before, and reassure him that everything is fine. But Rhaenyra’s advice had struck you, so well that it rings true in your mind as you look at Daemon. “Make him hunger for you,” she had said, eyes glinting mischievously, “so that he may realize what it is he may be at risk of losing, if he does not get his act together. And, well, if he still does not treat you as you deserve, then surely someone else will.”

You would have chased Daemon to the ends of the Seven Kingdoms, but you can only pursue someone so far before you might tip over the edge of the world yourself.

“I understand, Daemon. I am not angry at you. Truthfully, I don’t think I could ever be.” You offer a comforting smile, but it does not reach your eyes.

“Very well, then. On the morrow, I shall once again conduct my training in the courtyard. I expect you to be there.”

When you narrow your eyes at his implication, he adds, softly, “I mean, I want you to be there.”

You smile, and echo his exact words from weeks ago, when you gave word to him about your festivities, “I’d be loathe to miss a good training display of yours, my prince. I’ll be there.”

There may be a lot more than needs to be said, that Daemon wants to say. But he cannot find the words. He is not even certain what it is that compelled him to seek you out today. Or if he is, he is not ready to face it yet.

“I shall take my leave, my prince,” you curtsy, “I’ll be seeing you.”

He watches as you walk away. He is covered in sunlight from where he stands, the wind gently blowing mild and pleasant. And yet he feels cold, and his spirit is strained, as if this unspoken stalemate between the two of you casts a gloom over his days. As if you had taken all warmth along with you.

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

Daemon swings forcefully, toppling his opponent to the ground.

“Again!” He yells, “I thought you cunts are supposed to be decent fighters, at the very least. And yet even the whores in the Street of Silk might make for better competitors.”

Not one of his gold cloaks makes a move, and they all look at him warily. Their commander has been heated all morning, and they have taken the brunt of his rage.

The spectators have created a wider berth around him than usual, while they mostly whisper to each about the prince’s nasty temper.

One of the braver gold cloaks, Maron Tyrell, decides to approach him, “My prince, perhaps we should conclude our training exercise for today. The men are drained and wish to - ”

“We finish when I say so,” Daemon emphasizes every word in his displeasure, “not at your fucking heed.”

Maron persists, forgetting to mind the risk of talking back to Daemon when he is in this state, “We noticed that a certain Lady is not among the spectators, my prince. Your shadow, I think that is what you deem her to be, and rightfully so, I mean… don’t you think that actually made this morning’s activities more bearable, without her needlessly yapping at you at every-”

Maron does not get to finish his jibe about you, as Daemon pummels the young knight into the ground. His fist collides with Maron’s face, again and again, until he is pulled back by several of his struggling men.

“Prince Daemon!” A cacophony erupts around the courtyard – pleas for him to cease, gasps of shock and worry, even some callous laughter at the absurdity of the situation. The rogue prince has assailed one of his very own men. One of his loyal devotees. An undignified act, even for the volatile prince.

“Get your fucking hands off me,” Daemon squirms out of the grip of his men, and storms out of the courtyard, people parting like waves in his path. His knuckle is bruised and partially covered in Maron Tyrell’s blood. Yet, he cannot bring himself to care.

For what is a man without his shadow? He might as well just be gone.

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

"Lord Mathias Tyrell, the Lord of Highgarden, your Grace." A member of the Kingsguard announces the new arrival, his clear voice resounding in the throne room.

The imposing hall is nearly empty, apart from King Viserys who stands at the foot of the Iron Throne, several members of the Kingsguard, and his Hand, Lord Otto Hightower.

The elderly Tyrell walks in with a dignified air. There is a slight hunch in his posture, but his gaze is trained straight ahead. King Viserys meets him halfway, with a welcoming smile on his face, "My Lord Tyrell, what a pleasure this is, truly."

"My King," Mathias bows his head once, then looks at Viserys again, eager to finally make his appeal known, "I do hope my arrival is not untimely. It has been a while since we last convened, you and I."

"Not at all, Mathias," Viserys says, "I am always at your disposal for any important matter that you wish to bring to my attention, as I understand this is the case at present."

"Yes, well, let me begin by relaying my wife Lady Lenna's well wishes for you, my King. She feels honoured to have been a friend to your late wife Queen Aemma, and we only hope the best for your family."

Viserys nods amiably, accustomed to such flattering declarations from Lords and Ladies alike. He also knows by now that such, while potentially genuine, are usually followed by either a complaint or a petition. As if he was being softened up for what follows.

“Which is why it saddened me greatly to hear that a certain member of your family had attacked one of mine. The inducement of this remains beyond my understanding. My nephew, Maron, a member of your gold cloaks, is currently being attended to by our finest maesters, after suffering several injuries at the hands of Prince Daemon.”

“What?” Viserys’ friendly expression falls, “Daemon?” He looks toward Otto Hightower in hopes of some clarification.

“My King, we have just received word of this incident, and we were planning to discuss this in our council meeting on the morrow. The prince is required to attend, after all, which gives him a chance to elucidate his actions.” Otto explains placatingly.

“Daemon,” Viserys repeats his brother’s name, breathing it out like a curse. It was no longer any surprise to him to hear of such an act committed by his brother. He merely hoped that their occurrences would grow fewer and farther between.

“I knew you would understand the seriousness of this matter, my King. House Tyrell has, after all, always supported House Targaryen since the age of the Conqueror. All I want is for Prince Daemon to answer for what he had done to my nephew, in any way that you see fit.”

Viserys puts on his best placating smile, “Of course, Mathias. It shall be done. Now will that be all? I’m afraid I have some other matters to attend to.”

The Lord of Highgarden does not fail to notice the poorly hidden irritation in the King’s face, and he is quick to be done with the formalities of making himself scarce, exchanging a few choice words before bowing and promptly leaving the throne room.

“Well?” Viserys looks around the throne room, addressing whoever might have answers, “where the fuck is he?”

Otto squirms where he stands, “I can send for him right away, your Grace.”

They will soon realize that Prince Daemon’s whereabouts will elude them that day, as he had taken refuge in the clandestine quarters of the Lady Mysaria after the incident in the courtyard. However, the usual pleasures will not be exchanged between the two. Daemon no longer possesses the eagerness to lose himself in his apparently favoured woman. Mysaria does not press on, letting the prince get some much-needed rest. She does take note of one name uttered from his lips as he succumbs into slumber. Yours.

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

The members of the Small Council settle around the table, each one placing their round totem in front of them. The council meeting has begun.

Each Lord sits alert, ready to present their reports and findings for the week. Lord Corlys on the ongoing war in the Stepstones. Lord Beesbury on lowering the common tax for grain. Lord Lannister on arranging a play for the nobility. And so on. At the head of the table, however, their King does not appear to give off his usual air of graciousness. He leans to the side of his chair, routinely running his hand over his face in frustration.

Lord Beesbury speaks up, “Your Grace, shall we start with - ”

“Where is my brother?” Viserys’ voice is irate, his query directed at Lord Otto.

“We summoned him, your Grace, but he made it clear that he had other pressing matters to attend to.” Otto speaks slowly, clearly, in hopes that Viserys does not take his frustration out on him. “He mentioned having to meet with the Lady Y/n,” At this, Otto looks at your father across the table.

“My daughter?” Your father says, “I assure you, your Grace, I am not aware that she has any pressing matter with Prince Daemon. I would not even go so far to say that they are acquaintances.”

“Oh, Lord, you must know,” Tyland Lannister says, almost mockingly.

“Know what, my Lord?” your father asks, incredulous.

“Your daughter has been openly pining for the rogue prince. It’s common knowledge. She has not been shy about her affections, mind you,” Tyland smirks.

“I know nothing of this. My daughter has just begun a courtship with Lord Cregan Stark himself, and this I approve of. It would be unseemly for her to get involved with Prince Daemon in the way that you are insinuating.”

“What is the truth?” Viserys raises his voice, then turning to Otto, he adds, “Have you heard of this development?”

“I did not believe it to be consequential, your Grace. The prince has his share of admirers, after all.” Otto replies.

Viserys sighs heavily, thinking of how things will never just be simple when it comes to his brother. “Well, has he been receptive of the young lady’s affections?”

Lord Beesbury says, “The consensus has been that the prince has largely ignored them, your Grace.”

“Seven hells,” Viserys lets out a dry laugh in disbelief, “How come everyone knows of this matter except for me, the man in question’s own brother?”

“If I may respond to what Lord Beesbury just claimed, it does not seem that way. At least not anymore. Word has been circulating of yesterday’s incident, and apparently, the reason why Prince Daemon assaulted Maron Tyrell is because the latter brought up the subject of Lady y/n, and not in the nicest way.” Tyland says.

Lord Corlys intervenes, “Might we get on with more urgent business, lords?”

Viserys sits silently for a moment, letting all of the information sink in. He looks around the council table, baffled at the ridiculous scenario in front of him – the highest-ranking officials of the Seven Kingdoms prompted to engage in chitchat all because of this whole affair between yourself and Prince Daemon. “My lords,” he finally says, “Lord Corlys is right. We have better things to do with our time than to fucking gossip. I shall deal with my brother myself.”

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

The same morning, in another corner of the sprawling castle, you stand in your chambers, arranging the books on the shelf. You have just gone on a stroll with Rhaenyra, and are just taking a short rest. You startle slightly when your lady-in-waiting Hestia walks in.

“Good morrow, my lady.”

“To you as well, Hestia.” You smile in return.

“I have a message to relay, my lady,” she timidly says, “Earlier, when you had departed, Prince Daemon visited your chambers.”

You freeze. “Daemon?”

“Y-yes, my lady. I had walked in to change the linens, and he was already sitting there at your desk. Waiting for you, it seemed.”

“And? Did he mention anything to you?” You ask gently.

“He wants to meet you in the godswood, my lady. He said that he will anticipate you there at around noon.”

You note to yourself that noon is fast approaching. “Hmm. I see.” Hestia smiles comfortingly at you, and you can deduce that there is more that she wants to say.

“How did he seem, the prince, whilst he was here?” You engage her further, genuinely curious yourself.

“If I may be blunt, my lady, he seemed quite distressed. He appeared as if he was lacking in rest, and well… he really did seem eager to find you.”

You walk over to your chair and slump down in a dramatic huff, “Ah, it appears that I have found myself in quite the conundrum.”

Hestia smiles, following you, “What a conundrum, though, my lady. Prince Daemon and Lord Cregan vying for your hand? Nearly every eligible lady in all the kingdoms would feel envious of you.”

Your smile is wistful when you say, “It’s not quite the fairy tale that it seems, Hestia. I mean, you know how Prince Daemon is.”

“So it is Prince Daemon whom you favour?”

“What made you think so?”

“Well, I can’t be certain, my lady. It’s just that… he’s the one you chose to mention. His is always the name that you bring up, as opposed to Lord Cregan’s.”

Huh. I really must have been fixated on Daemon, haven’t I, if everyone is still of the impression that I want him, even with Cregan in the picture.

Do I want him?

“My lady?” Hestia’s voice breaks you out of your thoughts, “are you alright?”

“Yes,” you clear your throat, and stand, “I think I have somewhere to be.”

“To meet with Prince Daemon?”

How could I ever not want him?

“Perhaps.” You look back at Hestia, eyes glinting in anticipation, before leaving your chambers.

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

You walk through the hallways, still uncertain whether the godswood will be your destination. Whether Daemon will be your destination.

The weather is quite lovely anyway. Why not sit and enjoy some calm in the godswood? Deep down, you know that your reasoning, while sound, is a mere excuse for wanting to see Daemon.

Turning the corner, you see your father coming your way. He calls for you with a wave, and you rush toward him with a smile, “Good morrow, father.” You kiss him lightly on the cheek. “I was just heading to the godswood. Perhaps I shall take a book from the library and - ”

“To meet with Prince Daemon?” Your father's voice is stern, and you become nervous.

You tilt your head, unsure of how to respond. Your father continues, “This matter was brought to my attention, in the council meeting of all places! I felt like a bumbling fool. My own daughter, and I did not know.”

“You’re certainly not a fool, father. And - ”

“How long has this been going on?”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow.” Your brows furrow in frustration.

“This affair between yourself and Prince Daemon. Do you not have any mind for decency? How must this look? Cregan Stark is courting you, and here you are, running around with the rogue prince.” He speaks in hushed whispers, as if he is afraid of being overheard, but the anger in his tone can easily be detected.

“I am not sure what you heard, father, but I am not having an affair with Prince Daemon.” You lean back, also growing irate at his tone.

“Everyone knows, my child. I do know that you are intelligent, and that you mean well, but this - ”

“I was quite… smitten with him. Only that. But it is over now.”

“Is it? Then how come he apparently came to your defense yesterday, assailing Maron Tyrell when he spoke out of turn about you?”

“What?”

“Word has spread, and King Viserys has been saddled with the laborious task yet again of having to make amends on his brother’s behalf.”

“Oh, I didn’t know.” You remember that you meant to visit the courtyard for his training, but instead opted to read with Cregan Stark in the library. You did not think Daemon would particularly mind, and truth be told, you wanted to give a taste of his own medicine. You made your mistake in believing that Daemon might approach it just like anyone else – with a reasonable amount of impatience and irritation. But of course, it’s Daemon.

You want to appease your father’s worries, so you say, “The next time I see Daemon, I shall make things clear. There will no longer be anything between him and I. Not that there ever was anything before.” You can’t help but look away sadly, but then your father pulls you in for a hug.

“I trust that you will do the right thing. Lord Cregan is a man of true honour and kindness. You deserve someone like him.”

“I know.”

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

Moments later, just before you make a turn into the open area of the godswood, someone catches you by the elbow.

“Hello, lass.” Cregan says. “I am happy to see you.”

“Cregan,” you attempt to hide your surprise with a smile, “ perhaps you were simply following me?”

“That idea did cross my mind, yes,” he jests in return, “but I’d much rather have you aware of my presence so you can indulge yourself in my undeniable charm.”

“Ever so humble, my Lord of the North.” You have grown accustomed to his witty quips, easily shared, making whoever he converses with comfortable. When you had mentioned it, he assured you however that the doting glint in his eyes is reserved for you only.

“Having a good day so far?” He draws you in close by the waist, his sincere gaze boring into yours.

“Very much so, thank you. I was just about to, uhm, spend some time in the godswood.”

“I shall accompany you then, my lady, if you would allow me.”

“Oh, I - ”

“There you are.” You turn towards the familiar voice. Daemon has found you. “I thought I heard you.”

“Ah, Prince Daemon, ever a pleasure.” Cregan loosens his hold on you, but he does not let go. You notice Daemon’s eyes draw downward to Cregan’s arm around your waist, and his jaw clenches.

“Oh, I wish I could say the same, young wolf. But I have been waiting in the godswood for the Lady Y/n, and I can see that you are taking up her precious time. Keeping her from me.” Daemon spits the final words, making his annoyance clear.

“Daemon, I was just about to come see you,” you say.

“I thought you were going to spend time in the godswood?” Cregan looks at you confused.

“Yes, she is,” Daemon chimes in, “with me.”

“Simply to talk.” You start to become anxious with how the two men are sizing each other up, cold expressions plastered on their faces.

“No matter,” Cregan shrugs, “might I accompany you too, my lady?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

You and Daemon speak at the same instant, your contrasting responses putting a pause on the whole exchange. The silence is filled with tension, with Daemon staring at you intently. A slight smirk rests on his lips, and you can tell, he is enjoying this. He takes pleasure in being able to get under your skin.

You might be right, but in that moment, Daemon’s mind also wanders to the smoothness of your skin. The fire in your eyes. His stare grazes your decolletage, exposed by your dress, the very same dress he had disparaged weeks prior. How foolish of me. Anything she wears is immediately more refined as a result. Although I’d much see rather that dress on the fucking floor.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that there is still something between the two of you.” Cregan’s voice cuts through the silence. When you turn to him questioningly, he explains, “I have heard whispers here and there about a possible mutual affection that you share.”

“Prince Daemon and I are merely friends,” you clarify, “and even this I have reason to doubt.” You glare at Daemon, imploring him to not cross the line.

“We are friends,” Daemon grits his teeth, “come with me, Y/n.”

You continue to challengingly stare at Daemon, and any passer-by would immediately feel the tension. They would also be quick to assume that the connection lies between yourself and Daemon, not Cregan. Not that you would be willing to admit it straightaway.

“Forget about the godswood,” you look between both men, “Rhaenyra tells me of a travelling theatre troupe that will be conducting their show in the Red Keep this afternoon. I think I fancy heading over and seeing it for myself.”

You start to walk away, not paying mind to either the dragon or the wolf.

I’m done with this bickering. Let them follow me if they wish.

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

After a short period of deliberating and preparing, you find yourself walking the streets of the Red Keep, with Daemon walking close to one side and Cregan to the other.

Hestia follows suit, conversing with Cregan’s young squire, Pod. You had looked back to her to give a comforting smile, and you could tell that she was slightly intimidated by the member of the Kingsguard accompanying your little group. The knight is a looming figure of hunkering armour, walking close behind her and Pod.

Daemon and Cregan both offered an arm for you to hold onto at the start of your stroll, but you avoided the pain of choosing by clasping your hands in front of you, walking forward with your head held high.

You reach the city centre, and Cregan points to a fountain in the middle of the plaza. “I remember when you took me there, darling. We had the most pleasant afternoon.”

Daemon snorts upon hearing that, “The bloody fountain?”

Pod comes up to speak with Cregan about the tasks he has to fulfill for the day, demanding his attention, and they shuffle to the side in discussion.

“Yes, Daemon, the bloody fountain. We sat, had the best lemon cakes, and conversed with the common folk. Activities that are not to your taste, I’m sure,” you matched his sardonic inflection.

“I thought you would have preferred mulberry tarts,” Daemon responds, matter-of-factly.

Your lips part in mild surprise. “How could you have guessed that?”

“You might have mentioned it once, weeks ago.”

“Huh.” You continue to stare at him in disbelief. So he does listen to me.

You had the impression that all those times when you prattled in his ear, your words would simply dissolve into air. Like an incessant tune droning on in the background. Daemon always looked as if he was pondering some other more important thought.

“You continue to surprise me, Daemon.”

“And you never fail to pleasantly disrupt my life at every turn,” he remarks, the corners of his mouth turning upward.

“Since you used the word pleasantly then I shall assume that it’s a good thing. But disrupt? How so?”

He kicks a pebble across the cobblestones, lost in thought, “This is the last thing that I would have ever expected, my shadow.”

You continue to look at him in suspense, your heart thudding in your chest. Try as you might, Daemon still has that effect on you.

He continues, “I never expected to�� feel this… about you.”

“Feel what?” He turns to you, and softens at the sight of your innocent expression, your eyes wide and glistening. You’ve always gazed at him in such an open and caring manner, unaffected by the reality of his reputation. Very much unlike other people, who are almost invariably wary or distrustful when dealing with him. He has accepted that he needs someone like you. But recently, it became clearer. He only needed you.

“Prince Daemon,” a familiar soft, accented voice calls out.

The spell is broken. You turn toward the new arrival. The lady Mysaria.

“Good day, my lady,” you greet her reluctantly. You badly wish to move close to Cregan and engage him in conversation, just so you would not be privy to the interaction between Daemon and Mysaria, but something keeps you rooted in place.

“Good day to you as well, lady Y/n.”

“Have you come to watch the performance?” you tilt your head toward the stage that is being set up on one side of the plaza.

“I’m afraid I don’t have the time for such frivolities at present, my lady,” she smiles thinly, before turning to Daemon, “I am glad I found you, my prince. I would have waited until you eventually came to see me again, but since you are here, I want to return this to you.”

She reaches out her hand, and in it lies an ornate ring, decorated with an exquisite blood-red ruby. An inscription in High Valyrian is carved on the band.

Daemon snatches it swiftly, “Right. Good eye.”

“I recognized this to be one of your Targaryen heirlooms. You must have dropped it when you spent the night with me.” She steps closer to him, caressing his arm.

Your heart sinks. What did you expect – that Daemon would ever commit to you? He has been making gestures that are unusual for him, giving you just the slightest hint of hope. And now, this.

He was right. You do know exactly who he is. What he is. The lady Mysaria can be taken as confirmation of this.

“Would you excuse me?” you clear your throat, and start to walk over to Cregan.

Daemon notices the drop in your spirits - in the frown that formed on your lips, and the way your shoulders scrunched forward. He knows that you are aware of him looking at you imploringly. You refuse to meet his gaze, and continue to ignore him as he stares daggers at your retreating figure.

Daemon shrugs Mysaria’s hold off his arm, taking a step back. He is not certain what to say, and Mysaria senses his agitation.

“You desire the lady Y/n,” she states, not a shred of doubt in her enticing voice.

“You know nothing of it,” Daemon spits defensively.

“You do. You want her. I can see it in your eyes,” Mysaria repeats, “It’s a novel thing, as you once told me that she is someone whom you merely tolerate.”

And I fucking wish I knew better. “I’ll be damned if I’m not capable of changing my mind.”

“Or perhaps you always wanted her, and you just were not aware of it? You did speak plenty of her even before,” she muses, as she knows that Daemon will not deny her keen eye for observation.

Daemon and Mysaria look over to you, as you stand with the rest of your group. You smile, and stroke Hestia’s back soothingly. Cregan leans over to you, and you laugh at whatever he has whispered.

Daemon sulks, hands firmly clasped in front of him. “Fucking Stark.”

“She wants you too, you know,” Mysaria smiles.

This piques Daemon’s attention, though his face remains sour, “Don’t toy with me. Perhaps she did, but now - ”

“She still does. In time, you will both see the truth of it all. Good fortune, Prince Daemon.” she walks away, her long tresses blowing softly in the breeze, but pauses and turns halfway, “Just don’t be stupid.”

Daemon nods once, feeling hopeful anew.

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

One brisk morning, you sit peacefully in the gardens, a new book in your hands. You sit comfortably, your legs tucked underneath you on the seat. Daemon once remarked of how he liked the careless way with which you sit, to which you rolled your eyes, “Don’t mock me, Daemon. My father has scolded me plenty about how I don’t sit like a proper lady.”

Daemon just snickered at that, and playfully pulled at your ankle. That was one of your more amicable exchanges. Even now, your mind trains back to him, as if his absence is a thing that demands to be felt. Even after you believe yourself to have grown resolute at giving up any romantic notion when it comes to Daemon, after the encounter with Mysaria a few days prior.

Hestia sits beside you, crocheting, her needle deftly held between her slender fingers.

“My lady,” she says, looking to the side at the hedges, “I think you have a shadow.”

You follow her gaze and see him. The prince currently occupying your thoughts. As he always has. Daemon leans against the bark of a tree, evidently watching you. A smirk forms on his lips when he sees you finally notice him.

Your shadow.

You throw him a questioning look from afar. He merely shrugs his shoulders and starts to confidently walk toward you. He reaches you, and you just stare at each other in relative silence.

“You,” you say, as he had always done upon seeing you.

“Excuse me, lady Y/n, Prince Daemon,” Hestia curtsies to the both of you, then proceeds to take her leave. She smiles slyly at you over her shoulder, and you know she will want to be filled in about what happens later on. You consider yourself fortunate that your lady-in-waiting grew to become one of your closest confidantes.

“My shadow,” he says smoothly, then sits beside you.

“I might go so far as to say that the tables have turned. You are my shadow now, Prince Daemon.”

“Hmm,” he sneers, “No Stark boy today?”

“He’s visiting his sister, but he shall return soon. He promised me.”

“I’d much prefer it if he were to never set foot in King’s Landing ever again,” he comments casually.

“Jealous are we, my shadow?” you look at him teasingly through your lashes, realizing in that split moment, how easy it is. Being around him feels natural, despite the flares in his disposition and his offhand remarks.

You also realize that it is not completely the same with Cregan, as sweet and perfect as he might be. There is a sense of trying to fulfil your duty as a lady from a noble house, when it comes to your courtship with the young wolf.

But you have always chosen Daemon. If only he would choose you in return.

“I could ask the same of you. I saw the way you were glaring at Mysaria,” he smirks, raising his eyebrows tauntingly.

“I was not glaring at her.”

“Oh no, apologies, not glaring,” he raises his hands in faux surrender, “Not glaring. Seething.”

“Can you honestly blame me?” your face turns gloomy as you look off into the distance.

Daemon feels the drop in your demeanour, and his heart sinks. Must I always be the root of her heartache? Have I not done enough?

As if on instinct, he reaches across, and squeezes your hand, “My shadow, you must know, I have not bed any other, have not even looked at any other, ever since…”

You look down at your joined hands, his hand wider and calloused around yours. You’ve always known, when you would hold his hand to give him comfort, that it was always for your sake as well. His touch calmed you, but it was as if you had to steal moments of it for yourself.

This feels different. His thumb lazily strokes the back of your hand. You watch his eyes roam your face, from your eyes to your lips and back.

You wait for him to say the words. To say anything that would validate your longing.

“Now, I’m going to attempt something, my shadow, and you mustn’t be angry with me. Alright?”

“Daemon.”

“Alright?”

“Okay.”

Your breath catches in your throat when he leans closer, close enough that you feel his warm breath on your skin. Even closer, as you feel his lips graze yours, ever so gently. His eyes continue to search yours, gauging your reaction.

Then he presses his lips to yours. The countless times you had imagined that way it would feel, certainly does not do it any justice. Not even a little bit.

You let out a sound of appreciation, a soft little moan against his mouth, overwhelmed by the sensation. He pulls away for a second, hums affectionately, and runs his thumb over your lips. You let out a laugh, feeling light-hearted. He smiles at you, at his little shadow, before motioning towards your lips with a tilt of his jaw.

You kiss him again, and he feels his heart beating faster than ever before. The rogue prince, quite possibly one of the most notorious philanderers in the Seven Kingdoms, feeling flustered over you. You blossom into him, revealing yourself like you never had, his beloved shadow being engulfed and warmed by his sunlight.

His mouth becomes insistent in brushing against yours, his tongue tracing your lips. A shiver runs down your spine, your nerves set completely alight. His tongue mingles with yours, and you savour the taste of peppermint and sweet wine.

Reluctantly, grudgingly, you find whatever little impulse you have to pull away.

Your breath comes out in pants, and you raise your fingertips to feel where his lips were once on yours.

He studies your face, wondering what thoughts fill your mind.

You stand abruptly and begin to pace in front of him.

“Shadow?” he stops you, keeping you still with his hands on your shoulders.

“W-why?” you question.

He is still half-dazed from your taste, your scent all around him, “Don’t you see? I want you.”

“You want me?” your tone rises in disbelief.

“Must I repeat myself?” he nearly rolls his eyes, but keeps his manner sincere, “I’ve never been the sort of man to deny myself the desires of my heart. And my heart only wants you.”

Just give in. Kiss him again, throw reason away to the wind. Forget any doubt, any past grievances. He says he is yours now.

But you remember all those moments wherein you made yourself available to him. To be his friend, his source of comfort, his defender. Any way he wished to have you. You desired him. You wanted him. You loved him.

You love him. But for so long, he turned the other way. You had held your heart out for him to take, and he did not. He merely tolerated it.

“Daemon,” you shut your eyes, needing to clear your head, “what of Cregan?”

“What of him?” he hisses, eyes narrowing.

You become infuriated, “Seven hells, I am in the middle of a fucking courtship!”

“An empty formality.” Of course Daemon would believe so.

“We should not have kissed. It is not respectful to Cregan.”

His hand moves to grip your face, tilting your head, and you are caught up in the passion in his violet eyes, “Did you not enjoy it? Did you not like kissing me?”

“You know I bloody well did.”

“We can speak with your father and end this farce of a courtship. You need not continue - ”

You interrupt, “It wouldn’t be right. Cregan is a decent, and loving man. My father says so himself. He would make for a good husband.”

“And I wouldn’t?” his hands drop to his side, and he takes a step back.

“I don’t know. I have to learn how to trust you again. After everything.”

His eyes are tormented as he looks away.

“Daemon, I need time. I want to be completely certain if I will have to give up a life with Cregan.”

“Because he matters so much to you,” he sighs, appearing dejected.

“I’ve grown to value him for who he is. He’s my friend, and I had entered this courtship in hopes that it would help me forget about you. And I was thinking that perhaps, I could learn to love him… in time.”

“Don’t,” is all he can bring himself to say.

“I did not believe you cared for me, as I did you. It is only now that this,” you gesture between the two of you, “ever became anything. For you, at least. There was once a time wherein there was only you for me, but now, I just need some time.”

Daemon says nothing, letting your words sink in. His jaw clenches, deep in thought.

“Daemon,” you take his hand, “say something.”

He doesn’t. In a flash, he simply connects his lips to yours again, sucking the breath from your lungs. Your worries cease, as you give in to him. You reach upward to entangle your fingers in his silver hair; his hands hold your waist tightly.

In true Daemon fashion, his lusty resolve breaks, and he lets his hands slide downward to grip your backside. You moan, and bite his lip as a result.

He smirks, breaking the kiss, his forehead pressing against yours, “Okay, my shadow. I will wait.”

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

The days are long and languid. Daemon thinks so. He does not have much to occupy his time apart from his duties as Commander of the City Watch. He used to gain just the barest enjoyment from it, from ensuring that the city’s vermin are put to justice. But everything feels gray, devoid of any appeal. Nothing made him incandescent. He merely watched, and waited. For you.

He remembers you as he sits in the courtyard. He remembers the way you cheered for him while he trained, the way you sneered at his opponents, cussed at them even. The intensity in your expression was almost too much at times; you were so invested in his insignificant, little displays of skill. You were always there for him.

He remembers you when he strolls into the gardens, where you first met. You had been reading in solitude that fateful afternoon, your brows furrowed over a passage that baffled you. Something about witches in the histories of Westeros, you told him afterward. He responded, “Why, do you fear you might be a witch yourself? You certainly possess the ferocity.” So crude, you thought, so intriguing. So this is Prince Daemon Targaryen.

“Careful now, my prince. I just might put a spell on you.” you smiled at him, the very first time. He thought you very comely, but then again, he thought the same of several dozen other ladies. You thought him inexplicable, his reputation preceding him. The Rogue Prince, the rebellious second son. The patron saint of delinquents and whores, Otto Hightower once told your father. But you thought him amazing. Different. Dangerous. That very night, he filled your dreams. Since then, Daemon Targaryen became your sun.

On one of these mindless strolls, he comes across you. He cannot help it, and so he trails you, like a shadow. Every step feels heavy, because you are not alone. Your arm is looped around the wolf boy’s, walking too close for Daemon’s liking.

When he sees you kissing Cregan Stark, he sees red. He feels ill, fueled with rage. He saw it unfolding, the Stark boy running his fingers over your cheekbone, and then slowly closing the distance between you two. You stand arrested by the moment, seemingly apprehensive, but you don’t move away. The way the Stark boy curls his fingers firmly on your waist, drawing you close, he wishes he had done that.

He wishes he had pulled you close when you wiped the sweat from his forehead on those days you watched him train. In those moments when he was overcome with emotion and you would hold his hand. He had walked away, or turned to someone completely insignificant, when he could have held you. When he could have kissed you, much better than the Stark boy kisses you now.

Every part of him wishes to end the Stark boy’s life. He wants to strike him down in front of you. He wants to get you back.

But seven hells, Viserys would cast him out for good. He has only just returned to his brother’s good graces, the incident with Maron Tyrell having just been resolved.

And you. You would never forgive him. You would never speak to him again. And he can’t have that. He can’t live with that. He won’t.

He needs you, he knows this now.

He loves you, he is certain.

You had become Daemon Targaryen’s sun. As he was once yours.

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

There is a storm raging over King’s Landing. Heavy rain is pelting against your windows, and thunder echoes across the skies, a blanket of shadow covering the kingdom’s capital.

You sit in front of your mirror, absentmindedly running a comb through your hair. The week has felt long and languid. You certainly think so. You’ve had much to occupy your time – Cregan, duties with your father, lessons with the Septa, poring over books in the great library.

And yet, everything feels gray, as if devoid of warmth, not unlike the state of the city at present.

Daemon has been flooding your thoughts, despite your reluctance. You have been trying to not let your mind flash back to the kiss, without much success. A knot in your belly formed the moment Cregan’s lips touched yours, because you realized that you wish it had been Daemon instead.

It is as if your heart is sound in its resolve, its verdict clear. It is now left to you to either embrace the truth that it speaks, or stifle it, for the sake of an obvious consolation.

Daemon. You close your eyes, in remembrance of how he tastes. What if he loses heart? What if he no longer waits?

A sound catches your ear, one you think to be a faint knock, but it is overshadowed by a crackle of thunder booming outside at the same time.

The knocking repeats, a consistent rapping on the heavy wooden door.

You cautiously walk over, confused as to who would be visiting your chambers at this late hour.

“Who’s there?” you call out.

“Shadow.” You freeze, you would recognize this voice anywhere.

With tentative hands, you push the door open, and you are at once met with the sight of Daemon. His hair is unkempt and he is clad in only a loose white poet shirt, and dark trousers.

Words fail you, and you drink in the sight of him, as if it was the first time.

He rasps, holding your gaze, “I’m done waiting.”

“Daemon.”

He lunges forward, flooding all of your senses, gripping your face tightly in his hands and smashing his lips to yours. It’s different this time. More heated, passionate, greedy. He kicks the door shut with his foot, and he leads you deeper into the room.

“Daemon, what - ” you break away, in an attempt to catch your breath.

His forefinger flits across your lips, silencing you, “Hush, my shadow. I need this. I need you.”

You hum in agreement, and throw all caution to the wind. This is your Daemon. It has always been clear, he is the one you will always want.

Your hands roam, feeling his neck, his collarbone, and his chest exposed by the flowing shirt.

He stands captivated by you, and the gentle way in which you touch him. Your eyes filled with adoration. This is exactly what he needs. The storm might be raging outside, but right now, in this glowing candle lit room, he has his sunshine.

You had gone from being his shadow, to his light.

“I love you,” his voice is a mere whisper, and yet it electrifies your entire being, “I love you, my light.”

You look at him in a daze, and your vision becomes cloudy as a tear threatens to fall, and it does, when he kisses you again. He lifts you up on the table, and you wrap your legs around his waist. You lean backward, pulling him with you, making his pelvis press onto yours.

He groans, his frustration heightening even more when your hands roam under his shirt, gliding across the chiselled plains of his stomach, down to the line of his trousers.

He breaks the kiss, burying his face in your neck, “I want to… do this right.”

He straightens, kissing you once, before declaring, “I shall wed you first, my dearest love. Then, I shall have you.” His hand comes up to squeeze your breast, as if to make a promise, “All of you.”

Heat rushes to your face, and you can feel all this yearning prompting a knot to unravel low in your belly, “I must admit this is not what I expected of you, my prince. You were never one to exercise such restraint.”

“Be that as it may, my light, this is different. You are not like the others. Granted, I am not one to shy away from the pleasures of the flesh.” His fingers caress your ankles, before slithering gradually up your legs. He savours the softness of your flesh, squeezing your thighs, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You will soon find, my light, that fucking is a pleasure, and I especially want to show you how satisfying it can be,” his hands slide higher, and higher, “in every way possible.”

“Daemon,” you bite your lip, encouraging him, “my love.”

“Yes, my light?” he taunts.

“For fuck’s sake,” you curse impatiently, guiding your pelvis so that his fingers finally graze your undergarments.

“Impatient are we?” he shifts the cloth to one side, tracing one digit over your folds, “You are exquisite.”

“Mmm,” you tilt your head back, and brace yourself on the table, your hands struggling to keep yourself upright, “please, Daemon.”

Urged by your mewling, sensual music to his ears, he pushes one finger inside your warmth. He pumps it inside, outside, watching you all the while.

With his other hand, he undoes the delicate string on the front of your nightgown. The thin fabric haphazardly falls to your waist, revealing your torso to his hungry eyes.

“Fuck,” he hisses, pushing another finger inside you, picking up the pace. He then moves to plant a sloppy kiss on your lips, before trailing downward, licking and pecking his way until he reaches your breast. His tongue swirls freely on your nipple, and your hand comes up to brace itself onto his hair.  

“This is fucking torturous,” he nearly growls, once again kissing you. Daemon wants to lose himself in the sight of your unravelling, as you unabashedly fuck his fingers. He prays to the gods that he might learn to control his lust, his desire to just forego tradition and bury his cock deep inside your pussy threatening to take over him.

“Gods, Daemon, this is so much better than I imagined,” you pant, your lips turning up in a smirk.

“Is that so, my light? Have you touched yourself to the thought of me?”

When you nod, he purrs in your ear, his lips grazing the skin, “Have you dreamed about fucking me? As I have you?”

His thumb circles rapidly around your clit, while his two soaked digits relentlessly plunge into your pussy. “Y-yes, Daemon.” His movement grows ever so careless and wild, fingers curling inside you, eager to bring you to climax. Your eyes flutter closed, as your pelvis begins to feel tense, that familiar spasm gathering below.  

“Let go, my light,” he commands, “Release yourself onto me.”

Once more, you pull him by the neck, and taste him. When his tongue collides with yours, you let go, gushing down on his fingers. He feels your juices drip down to his palm, but he makes no move. He leans back, memorizing the sight of you. His shadow, his light, covered in a sheen of sweat, thin nightgown pooled by your waist. Your legs spread wide open for him, your cum still warm on his skin.  

He cleans his hand, first sucking some of your orgasm off his fingers, and wiping the rest on the back of his shirt. He leans forward, palms on either side of your thighs on the table.

“Daemon?” you breathe, eyes half-lidded from the aftermath, “What is it?”

“I love you.”

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

Daemon’s arm is wrapped around you, as your head rests on his chest, listening to his faint heartbeat.

You found yourselves lying down on your bed, atop the silken sheets, after that delightful table incident, deciding to call it thus as you now fondly think back to it.

You had been sharing stories of mixed significance, ranging from what you had for breakfast to the culmination of the war in the Stepstones.

“I may have to go into battle,” he confesses, “sometime in the days to come.”

Worry floods you, knowing how reckless he can be when faced with the thrill of war. Violence is not something that deterred Daemon, let alone the pain of death. If anything, he seemed to welcome it, and it frightens you.

You do not want to ever lose him. It was true then, but now, your very being depends on it. With him gone, you are afraid that you would never be whole again.

“Must you go?” you whisper.

“You need not worry, my light,” he kisses the top of your head lovingly, “I will always return to you.”

“But must you go? Is it necessary that you be there?” you prop yourself up on one elbow, so that he may see the sincerity in your expression.

“No,” he decides, “the war is all but won. There are just some loose ends to tie up, and the Velaryon army is more than capable of putting an end to it all. I had just half a mind to proffer aid from myself and a portion of the King’s army.”

“So let the King’s army go, and you can stay here with me.”

“My love?” he grins, “are you truly demanding that of me?”

“Just this once?” you plead, smiling at him, “I don’t wish to forbid you from ever stepping into battle. I just… I’ve only just had you. I prefer not to take any foolish risk, as little as it might be.”

A smile forms on his lips, as he relishes in knowing that you truly must care for him.

“As you wish,” he relents, “I shall stay.”

You kiss him, certain that you will never tire of the feeling of his lips flush against yours.

You look down at him with stars in your eyes, “I love you, Daemon.”

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

The members of the Small Council try to hide their surprise at the presence of Prince Daemon, already sitting comfortably at his chair, as they enter the room and each shuffle to their place around the table.

“My lords,” Daemon casually greets, “I had thought you all had forgotten about the council meeting.”

“Prince Daemon, I assure you that we are exactly on time,” Lord Beesbury responds, failing to understand the jest.

Viserys is the last to walk in, accompanied by his Kingsguard. He pauses upon seeing his brother, but quickly carries on to his seat at the head of the table.

“Brother,” Daemon says, amused, “do try not to look so amazed.”

“Daemon,” Viserys merely nods in acknowledgment, before turning to the rest of the council, “let us begin.”

The minutes seem to pass by at a snail’s pace, at least for Daemon. He unknowingly gazes out the window now and again, as if in a daydream, eliciting several scolding glares from his brother.

Taxes, festivities, tapestries, resources. All these concerns fly over his head, especially since it was only the night before last when he finally claimed you. Or more aptly put, when he surrendered himself over to you.

“Princess Rhaenyra is to embark on a tour to several neighbouring cities, as part of her duties as princess of the realm, and as my heir,” Viserys announces, before addressing your father, “She kindly wishes to have your daughter, the Lady Y/n, as her companion for this particular excursion.”

Daemon’s interest is restored at the sound of your name, and he straightens, eager to hear the rest. Little does he know, Viserys notices this slight movement, peering at him suspiciously out of the corner of his eye.

“Oh, what an honour that is, your Grace,” your father beams, “she will surely only be glad to accept the princess’ request. I shall relay the news to her when she returns from Storm’s End, in around a day or two.”

“Y/n is in Storm’s End?” Daemon speaks for the first time since the council discussions began, and all heads turn to him. There is an intimacy with which the prince mentions your name, a genuine curiosity with which he inquires about you, that drew everyone’s attention.

“Yes, my prince,” your father responds carefully, “she wanted to treat with Lord Cregan Stark, who has been visiting his sister Sara, the consort of Lord Baratheon’s eldest son.”

“How goes the courtship, my lord?” Tyland asks purposefully, knowing that it might turn Daemon irate, as he is already sulking in his seat, looking as if the wrong word might set him off.

“I’m afraid she plans to put an end to it,” your father finally says, regret perceptible in his voice, “as she has divulged to me that she might never see Lord Stark as more than a friend.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, my lord,” Viserys expresses genuinely, although he continues to closely watch Daemon’s reactions. His amusement grows at his younger brother’s inability to hide his emotions when it comes to you. First, intrigue at the mere mention of your name, then disappointment upon hearing that you are to see Cregan Stark, and finally the most obvious sense of relief regarding the end of your courtship.

A laugh threatens to escape Viserys. Being the elder brother that he is, he craves the pleasure of playfully taunting Daemon over his increasingly apparent affection for you.

“Nothing to be sorry about, dear brother,” Daemon speaks, breaking Viserys out of his thoughts.

“Oh?” Viserys turns to him in anticipation.

“My wish is to wed the Lady Y/n, as promptly as can be expected.” The entire council falls into silence, and Viserys finally lets out the dry laugh he has been holding back.

“M-my prince?” your father looks as if his heart would cease, and he certainly feels so, his chest significantly tightening at the prince’s declaration. Due to elation, or horror, he is yet to determine.

“Seven hells,” Otto exclaims, turning to Viserys, “won’t this be improper? The Lady Y/n has just ended a courtship with another lord, immediately to be wed to the prince?”

“I don’t suppose so,” Viserys easily counters, placing his hand atop his brother’s, “Daemon, I would hope that the lady is aware of your desire to be wed to her, and that you are not simply about to spring this upon the poor girl?”

“Of course she is,” Daemon confirms, his voice steady, “we are in love, if you cunts must know.” He could not help his less than tasteful remark, growing defensive about you.

“Gods be good,” Lord Beesbury balks at the prince’s crudeness.

“Alright,” Viserys raises a hand to appease the council, “Daemon, brother, I would be glad to see this come to fruition. Your marriage to the Lady Y/n would be exceedingly advantageous after all, for both our Houses.” He addresses your father, “I would assume that you believe so as well, my lord?”

Your father’s thoughts race, and with your best interests in mind, he speaks only to Daemon, “Do you truly love her, my prince?”

There is not a shred of doubt in Daemon’s voice when he answers, “More than anything.”

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

You sit in your usual spot in the gardens, accompanied by Hestia. A book rests on your lap, but you pay it no attention, your mind elsewhere.

Having just returned from Storm’s End, you feel at peace. You already knew that Cregan would accept your choice, but you did not wish to cause him any pain. It may have just been his natural charm, or a sense of ease with which he can hide his displeasure, but when you finally confided in him about Daemon, he was only quick to offer you a smile and pull you into his arms.

“Quite frankly, my lady, it only seemed a matter of time before Prince Daemon would break and accept that he needs you,” he said sincerely, his smile unwavering, “and I can recognize love when I see it, and it certainly exists between the two of you.”

Love. You shut your eyes, thinking of him, and savour the warmth of sunlight on your skin.

“My lady,” Hestia whispers, and your eyes slowly flutter open. You see her looking toward a figure in the distance.

“I think you have a shadow.”

🖤🖤🖤

The longest fuckin chapter I've ever written, gods be good. It did get a bit rushed towards the end. There was meant to be this whole scenario about Daemon heading into battle after hearing that the reader went to Winterfell instead to treat with Cregan Stark. Then I read how long it actually takes to travel from King's Landing to Winterfell and the timing just didn't fit with the events.

The parallels between Daemon and the reader were my favourite parts to write. They really are just two sides of the same coin.

Also, I did not expect myself to be writin' spicy content for this chapter, but I guess it just happened?? Oh well. 🤷‍♀️

I apologize this took aaaages to be put out. The amount of times I altered some parts I'm telling you, y'all would have just wrenched my laptop from me and I would not have blamed you 😂

My inbox was indeed flooded with demands for this chapter and I can only thank you all so much for wanting to read on!!! 🤍

taglist: @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @itscheybaby @my-dark-prince @keep-beating-my-dear-heart @mamamooqa @63angel @azucarmorennna @kate16sstuff @thoughtfulfreakalpaca @alexandra-001 @babywolff @gloryekaterina @writer-lee5 @lockleysgrl @alexa4040 @piceous21 @softtina @bregarc @ramennoodles212 @siriusdumblittlepuppy @captainweirdo42 @thx-rn @merovingianprincess @clarap23 @itisjustwhatitis @blushinyouth @aeisnoa @a-lil-bit-nuts @paprikaquinn @just-some-random-blogger @cantstoptherecs @baybieruth @wondergal2001 @pax-2735 @immyowndefender @moonmaiden1996 @wrendermeuseless @schniiipsel @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @icarusignite @flourishandblotts-inc @siriusdumblittlepuppy @booknerd2004 @just-a-harmless-patato @moni-cah @boofy1998 @huntycola @sanguinalia @thelastcitysposts @daeneeryss

#daemon targaryen x y/n #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen imagine #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon #daemon targaryen #matt smith #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targaryen smut

[avocado-writing]

Poly aziracrow based on 2x04, where Crowley and R react to Aziraphale during this scene👀

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZM2KFemoQ/

notes: yes. this isn’t the first time I’ve had a request about his voice in this scene. and I will NEVER get tired of them ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

pairing: aziraphale x reader x crowley

rating: M (smut at the end)

tags: the light, the dark, and the space in between-verse; references to ptsd; slightly Dom!Aziraphale

You hate this bloody war. 

You’ve been part of a few, and all of them have left their scars on you. In you, buried in your soul. You remember your time in those trenches barely thirty years ago and bile claws at your throat. 

No. Don’t think about that. Concentrate on this. Concentrate on this horrid little demon who’s threatening the two people you love. Hands behind you, you finger a decorative paperweight, wondering if minions from hell are susceptible to being thwacked over the back of the head. 

He finishes his little tirade and tries to read Aziraphale’s name from a book (you’re amazed that the cretin is literate). But his demonic lips can’t make heads nor tails of the syllables. 

“Azil-pha-pha-la-luh—”

Aziraphale’s brow furrows just slightly, lips purse.

“Aziraphale.”

It’s not often you see your angel reach the end of his tether. He is a holy being after all; the pinnacle of patience, epitome of virtue. But sometimes, when something grinds his gears just right, that voice will come out. 

It does something to you and Crowley both, and the two of you exchange a glance across the room. This will be explored later. 

The demon, irritated, snaps his little book shut, then does a double take as his gaze passes over you. He didn’t even notice you were here. You try to look the picture of innocence as you ready the paperweight, thinking about the best way to swing a bludgeoning weapon when he has that ridiculous hair. 

“And you? What’s going on with you, why are you here?” He steps forward and takes a deep sniff. “You don’t smell divine.”

“Oh god, don’t bloody smell me!” you hiss, planting your hand on his chest and shoving him backwards. Aziraphale and Crowley move towards you to intervene if needed, but you wave them off. 

“Don’t bother with him, nightingale,” Crowley sighs, voice unbothered and bored, “he’s not worth your effort.”

You turn to the mirror in the dressing room instead and focus on smoothing out your clothes, ignoring the foul little gremlin until Crowley and Aziraphale sort him out. Which they do, inevitably, because they’re very clever and wonderful. The three of you head back to the bookshop for a very necessary glass of wine, and within the hour you’re all piled on the sofa, slightly blotted and very glad for each other’s company after a rough day. 

You and Crowley are either side of Aziraphale, each with a leg hooked over one of his plush thighs. You’re doing that thing they love where you compliment them about how smart they both are, and they get all smug and silly (and you love it); but halfway through you catch Crowley’s eye behind those dark little glasses and something shifts subtly. 

“You know, angel, you really gave that lapdog a dressing down earlier.”

“Oh, well, I’m not sure I’d go that far,” Aziraphale says, but he’s all puffed up like he gets when he’s flattered. Crowley runs a finger up the seam of his trouser leg, gently, slowly. 

“And you know what really sealed the deal? That voice you used on him,” you continue. “There was something quite dominant about it. Sexy.”

You snake your hand up his chest. Finally he cottons on. 

“Oh.”

“I think we both just wondered what it might take to get you to use it again.”

Aziraphale takes a final sip of his wine before carefully placing the glass on the table. He sits back, looking between the two of you, and there’s no missing the glint in his eye. 

“If you wanted me to tell you what to do,” he says lowly,

and you shiver, “you need only ask. I’m sure I’ll do it if you both behave.”

Crowley shifts. You can see the effect Aziraphale’s had on him: the tightening of his trousers, the bob of his adam’s apple as he swallows. 

“So. Will you behave?”

“Yes,” you and Crowley both whisper at once, voices thin and needy. 

Aziraphale smiles. 

“Then I think you’re both wearing far too many clothes.”

Your clothes end up a muddled pile on the floor, and between the two of you, Aziraphale doesn’t leave the couch for the rest of the evening. He has you ride his thigh while Crowley swallows him down his pretty little throat, whispering his praises to both of you in that delicious voice. 

“Look at you both. Being so good for me. I love you both so much, my darlings.”

You bury your face in his shoulder, face burning with desire. He has Crowley fuck you over the arm of the couch as he watches the show, palming himself through his trousers, telling you where to touch each other. You’re happy to be his puppet, his plaything, anything. 

So long as he keeps talking.  -

taglist: @angiestopit @dazed-soul  @foolishprincipalitee @smile-eywa@staygoldsquatchling02 @underratedboogeyman @specter-soltare @candlewitch-cryptic @cool-ontherun-world @emilynissangtr @willbedecided @bdffkierenwalker @cool-iguana @ilyatan @civil-groupie @willyoubethepookietomypookster

#crowley x reader x aziraphale #ineffable husbands x reader #good omens x reader #david tennant x reader #michael sheen x reader #Request #Fic: the light the dark and the spaces inbetween

[lunarw0rks]

do you think any of the 141 guys would be ok with a hairy girl? i don’t shave down there and this guy i was going to hook up with was grossed out by it so i’m a bit upset yk? :( if this is weird just ignore! <3 thank you!

a/n: not a weird request, anon! it's easy to be ashamed about it, i know i have before, but you have to remember that it grows for a reason! <3 don't be ashamed of body hair just because of some douche!!! what matters is that you're healthy and do what you want with your body and what naturally comes with it :) you deserve better than a prick who's grossed out by hair of all things. ☆ if it's any consolation, the cod men wouldn't be. hope my writing helps you feel better ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⭑ ✧˖ warning(s); hurt/comfort but horny, nsfw °.🪐⋆｡°✩ ‧₊˚ ⋅ જ⁀➴๋࣭ ⭑๋࣭ ⭑

『 price 』

── I feel like price is quite hairy; everywhere. it's not like he has the time, or the desire to be waxed. he's old enough, that he just doesn't care anymore. beyond some trimming and cleaning up — he won't bother. now, with a partner? absolutely loves it. it's something for him to brush his fingertips over when he cuddles you. and it just proves you're a natural woman, which is all he can ask for.

☆ if you even think about being insecure, he'll shut you up, one way or another. first, it's a gentle scold, reassurance that he loves the way you are. something like body hair isn't going to get in the way of that.

☆ if it ever did, you have his full permission to ring his neck <33 if being verbal doesn't work... there are other forms of worship he'd inflict on you ;)

☆ you catch him in a good mood; he'll eat you out until you're convinced, no matter the amount of hair. a bad mood; he'll have you bent over until the doubt is fucked out of you. it's never bothered him before, there isn't a chance it's going to when you're screaming his name.

♡˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ♡

『 simon 』

── at first, you thought you had soiled the intimate mood and his completely. like it was a point of no return, but it wasn't. simon was just shocked, and he couldn't help his natural scowl. for him to even be close enough to be intimate with someone, is a massive milestone. for him to notice your body hair? not a chance. he won't mention it unless you do, and in this case you did.

☆ you'd made a comment about your hair, how you hadn't shaved. "is that really what you think of me?" his words came out a bit firmer than he wanted them to. he didn't mean it that way, but he couldn't help his disbelief. he was with you for a reason, why the hell would some body hair be a concern?

☆ before you can respond again, even think about looking more upset. he's all over you once more — but he's taking his time. not that he's one to rush often, but this time he knows he should take this slow. simon touches you like you'll shatter, his roaming mouth even gentler.

☆ truly a night to remember, but not because of its lust. that would be the second thing on a list of fond memories. his tenderness would be; the hardened lieutenant reassuring you until you have no choice but to believe him.

♡˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ♡

『 soap 』

── though he's well groomed, and prides himself on the hair all over his body, his significant other being hairy doesn't bother him a bit. finds it incredibly attractive, someone with small features that make them, them. you would be the you he loved so much if you suddenly changed yourself for him. soap has a hard enough time believing that he deserves you in the first place, so your insecurity about something so small has him dumbfounded.

☆ shocking him into silence? not an easy task, but you did it. and now... he has to make his best effort to show you how little the hair bothers him. soap could drone on and on with verbal praises, but that only does so much. what better convincing, than raw actions?

☆ his silence is almost eerie; the cloud of desire and longing that fogged his eyes. you were his, no matter how you looked, and he was going to make sure you knew it once the night was over.

☆ absolutely ruins you, like he had done many times before, only tonight is especially messy. pulls out all the stops — prolonged foreplay, hands guiding you, etc... forces you to keep eye contact with him, and on your body as he pleasures you. and still, he doesn't say anything except praises for your natural self, right into your ear. "fuck, look at you, bonnie. good f' me, aren't ye, pretty girl?"

♡˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ♡

『 gaz 』

── it was a blissful moment until you expressed discomfort towards him dealing with your hair. he's irritated, but not an ounce of it is towards you. who made you feel that way? how could someone like you be insecure? did he need to do more to ensure you knew he paid little mind to something so trivial? he was laser-focused now, and it wasn't going to break. you'd never seen him like this, it was daunting, almost.

☆ he made it clear, that this wasn't a burden of his. "don't ever say that again, sweetheart. don't even think it." gaz whispers into your ear, hand running over your frame from top to bottom. "look at yourself, so goddamn gorgeous, hair or not — you don't see it. I'm gonna make sure you do, no exceptions." though his expression was stern, his speech couldn't have been more tender.

☆ you won't even lift a finger, unless it's to hold onto him for dear life, to paint a picture. yes, he's being tender and reassuring, but that doesn't mean gaz rearranging your guts. his attention to every detail on your body, his whispers of praise, his skilled mouth kissing every inch of your flesh.

☆ you'll think twice before you doubt yourself again. and he's a damn persistent man — so good luck to you if you do ;)

♡˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ♡

#mw2 #call of duty #task force 141 #mw2 fanfic #task force 141 x reader #tf 141 x reader #141 headcanons #cod headcanons #cod x female reader #cod x y/n #cod x you #cod x reader #mw2 x reader #simon riley #soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #john price #captain price #simon riley x reader #soap mactavish x reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #john price x reader #simon riley smut #soap mactavish smut #gaz smut #kyle garrick smut #john price headcanons #john price smut

[megxplryxb]

Our Little Secret

Disclaimer: GIF is not mine.

Pairings: Steve Harrington fem!reader

Warnings: Minors Do Not Interact! Jealously, enemies to lovers, smut, bathroom sex.

The blaring music and chatter of the rowdy crowd on the other side of the door had long disappeared in to the background as the sound of Steve Harrington’s skin slapping against your own echoed throughout his downstairs bathroom. His rapid thrusts sending you closer and closer to another orgasm as he nipped at your throat, leaving a trail of violet bruises behind as evidence of your current hook up.

You shut your eyes, hissing in pleasure while Steve continued to bite and suck on your skin as he bucked his hips in to you, a low groan escaping him as he chased his own release.

"Jesus sweetheart, you're...so...fuckin' tight, feel so good around my dick.” Steve growled, grabbing your waist, slamming in to you from behind, throwing your head back to lean against his chest for support as you watched him come apart in the mirror. You were wrecked at this point, completely cock drunk on Steve’s dick as the smell of sex and alcohol began to consume the room. You were totally hypnotised by the pretty sounds coming from him, the way he kept his glossy eyes on you in the reflection of the glass as he edged you both closer, hair an utter mess as he swiped it from his face...he was utterly fucking beautiful but you'd never tell him that.

You weren't entirely sure how you ended up bent over his parents expensive marble sink but you knew it had started with an argument, just like every other one of your encounters with Steve. You had never seen eye to eye with the boy, not in High School, not as Dustin's babysitter and definitely not as co-workers in Family Video. His constant need to flirt with every cute girl that walked in to the store made you gag out loud, rolling your eyes while he ran to the back to make sure his hair looked good before making his move on the unsuspecting female customers. Much to you and Robin's astonishment some of them even fell for his ridiculously shitty pick up lines and for some reason, it kind of bothered you.

"You know he just does that to piss you off, right?" Robin revealed on a late night weekend shift while you were stacking video tapes, nudging her head towards Steve who was leaning over the desk, flirting with some airhead who was giggling at his god awful jokes.

"Does what?" You questioned, trying your best to ignore the fake sounds of laughter at the counter to get on with the task at hand.

"Flirting with the ladies…He only does it make you jealous." Your friend stated as you scoffed at the thought, refusing to look in Steve's direction, afraid to give him the slightest bit of satisfaction that he might in fact, be getting under your skin.

"And why would he do that?"

"Duh, cause he's totally in to you." She said as you let out a loud enough laugh that Steve and the girl turned to face you both before going back to their conversation again.

"Yeah, right Rob, we can barely survive a shift together without killing each other. Plus, why the hell would I be jealous of those poor girls having to endure his cheesy chat up lines?" You asked as your friend shrugged her shoulders.

"I don't know, but you've been stacking horror movies on the kids shelves since dingus started talking to the pretty blonde, ten minutes ago." Robin teased, smirking smugly as you realised you were putting The Exorcist beside E.T - The Extra Terrestrial.

“That doesn’t mean I’m fucking jealous, Robin! I’m just tired of doing all the work while he stands around doing nothing as per usual.” You huffed in an angrier tone than before as Robin tried to change the subject, sensing how annoyed you were.

It was safe to say that Steve Harrington drove you fucking crazy. So, when Robin begged you to come to one of Steve’s many house parties you flat out refused, not wanting to spend your rare day off from work in the same vicinity as your colleague. Especially, if it meant having to witness him in a lip lock with some random girl all night. But somehow, you had let Robin convince you to join her at the party, your friend pleading with you to be her wing woman while she attempted to get to know Vickie a little better without “turning in to a babbling idiot”.

You somehow managed to avoid Steve for the whole time you were at his party, dancing with Robin and Nancy, beating Eddie at beer pong, even turning down two guys who were trying to get you to go home with them. So, when Robin had enough liquid courage in her to confidently talk to Vickie without you being present, you downed your final drink and slid off of the kitchen countertop, making your way through Steve's house, finally reaching the front door to make your exit.

“Leavin’ already?" The familiar voice asked as you turned to see Steve standing with some girl hanging from him. Fucking typical.

"Yep." Is all you said, not wanting to stop and talk.

"Didn't expect to see you here." He said, completely ignoring the brunette beside him.

"Trust me Harrington, your house was the last place I wanted to be on my night off."

"Why'd you come then?" Steve challenged as you folded your arms.

"Cause she asked me to." You stated pointing at Robin who was still in the kitchen, blissfully unaware that you were gone. "She was nervous about seeing Vickie, said she needed some backup." You explained, as he nodded, understanding how anxious Robin got around her crush.

The girl standing beside him let out an aggravated sigh, finally gave up, realising she wasn't getting anywhere with Steve now that you had his full attention. Steve didn't even notice she had walked away, he was too fixated on you, scanning your body, taking note of how your outfit complimented your figure, curves being hugged in all the right places as you stood looking at him. You were so fucking pretty and you didn't even know it but Steve desperately wanted to show you.

"You really going?" He quizzed as you placed your hands on your hips, letting out a deep breath.

"As much fun as it would be to stay and watch you flirt with the entire female population of Hawkins High, I think I'm gonna pass and head home." You said turning on your heels to reach for the door knob.

"It really bothers you doesn't it?" Steve smirked as you turned your head to face him again.

"What?" You huffed in frustration.

"Me, flirting with other girls." He replied as you let out a sarcastic laugh, shaking your head. "You really are so fucking full of yourself, you know that?" You spat, hoping the heat rising to your cheeks wasn't overly visible with the make up you were wearing.

"Maybe I am but I think m’right, aren't I?" He questioned, walking closer towards you as you decided to hold your ground.

"Sure, yeah, it bothers me when you flirt with every chick that walks through the door in work instead of doing your actual job...you know, the one you get paid to do?" You teased as he grinned at you. “Is that the only reason?"

“Can’t think of another.” You shrugged.

"I can." He challenged. "Please, enlighten me..." You mutter in a sarcastic tone, rolling your eyes.

"Maybe you're jealous."

"Maybe you're fucking delusional." You fought back as he smiled at you.

"Just admit it princess, s'ok." He whispered, closing the space between you, waiting patiently for your response. You weren't sure if it was the alcohol or the way he was looking at you or the fact that you knew you looked good but you felt a growing confidence inside yourself, so you tugged at the hem of his shirt, licking your lips as he watched you with complete curiosity.

"Is that what you want me to say, that I'm jealous? Is that why you do it, to make me jealous?" You challenged as he remained silent, smirking at you. “You think I don’t see the way you look back at me for my reaction every single time, cause you aren't really interested in any of those other girls, are you Steve?" You flirt, still playing with his shirt as he looked down at you, completely turned on by the way you were teasing him.

"You gonna tell me it's one sided, sweetheart? This little game we play...I think you enjoy it just as much as I do." He purrs in your ear and your heart stops at his sudden confession because you weren't actually expecting him to admit it and now that he had, you were more intrigued than ever, feeling the sudden ache between your legs. Cause as much as you didn’t want to believe it, trying to push it to the back of your mind every time he looked at you, you knew you wanted Steve Harrington and you hated yourself a little bit for that.

"The fact that you aren't walking away here kind of tells me everything I need to know, princess." He smirked, locking eyes with you, moving even closer as you tried to regain your composure.

"Kind of hard to move with your dick pressing against my thigh, Harrington." You replied, pressing your tongue to your cheek as he pushed his body against yours, an arm wrapping around your waist making you gasp out loud, the sexual tension between you almost crippling at this point. “Want me to put it somewhere else instead?" He suggested as you looked up at him through your long lashes, nodding.

"Need you to use your words baby, m'not gonna do anything unless you tell me what you want." He said moving his thumb over your lips.

"You're really enjoying this aren't you?" You huffed as he let out a little laugh. "Just need to know if you really want this to happen?" He asked as you pressed a soft kiss to his lips, removing them before he even had a chance to kiss you back.

"Steve, just fuck me already." You pleaded as his eyes filled with lust.

So, he took your hand, dragging you to the bathroom, locking the door behind him as he caught your lips in a passionate embrace, tongue dancing with your own as he pushed you back against the door while you began to unbutton his shirt. “This stays between us, got it?” You requested as he nodded his head, capturing your lips again. He tasted like beer and bubblegum and you couldn't get enough as you pulled him closer.

"So fuckin' beautiful." He murmured, lifting your top over your head, tossing it on to the floor to join his shirt. You watched as he got on his knees, unzipping your skirt, slowing pulling it down, leaving wet kisses on your inner thighs as your skirt finally hit the floor. You bit your lip with how close he was to your core, noting there was only a thin piece of fabric between his mouth and your cunt. "Can I taste you pretty girl?" He asked, looking up as you nodded again.

"Words baby, need your words." he purred moving a hand over your panties, tugging them down until they were around your ankles, lifting your heels off of the ground to fully dispose of them, stuffing them in to his pocket as your cheeks flushed realising he could probably tell how wet you were now.

"Do it....please." You whimpered, feeling his tongue immediately swipe through your folds, lapping up your juices before he started to swirl circles around your clit. "Fuck, Steve...that feels so fucking good, oh my god." You gasped, gripping at his hair as he buried his head deeper between your legs.

"So wet for me baby, you taste fucking amazing, knew you would." He moaned, palming his hand over his tight Levi jeans.

"Steve..." You hissed as he gently slid his index and middle finger in and out of you. "Not gonna last much longer if you keep doing that.”

"Gotta stretch you out baby, you're so tight and I'm pretty big, don't wanna hurt you." He hummed, sucking on your clit. You knew he was big, you'd seen the outline of his dick when you went to Eddie's to watch a horror movie and Steve got hard during a sex scene sitting next to you. Plus you heard all of the rumours in school too, you just didn't know whether Steve had started those rumours himself before that night in the tailer.

"St...oh shit, stop, I'm gonna come." You cried as you felt his lips curl in to a smile. "Go on baby, come f'me, come on my tongue." He demanded, flicking his muscle against you faster and faster as you bucked your hips, the coil in your stomach finally snapping as you reached your climax, biting your lip to stop everyone outside the bathroom door from hearing you.

Steve didn't give you much time to recover from your orgasm as he pulled you over to the marble sink, kissing you again as your hands moved to his jeans, unbuckling his belt and unzipping them as his dick sprung free. Jaw dropping at the sight of it, pre cum already leaking from the tip but Steve stopped you just as you tried to wrap your swollen lips around it.

"As much as I would love for you to suck on my dick right now, I need to fuck you before someone rudely interrupts us." He growled, as you voluntarily bent over the sink while he lined his cock up to your entrance before pushing in to you, letting out a loud moan at the feeling of being inside of you— as if he’d waited forever for this moment.

So, thats how you wound up getting fucked by Steve Harrington in his bathroom. His dick making you feel fuller than you ever had before and your tight cunt making it impossible for him to last much longer.

"Shit, Steve...I can’t, s'too much." You whimpered, gripping the countertop with one hand while the other grasped the back of his neck as your stomach tightened with a familiar feeling building once more.

“Can’t take anymore baby, huh? I know you’re close, can feel your pussy clenching around me, m'close too, you feel too good on my dick." He whispered as he continued to pound in to you while you rolled your hips on to him. "Where can I..."

"Inside me, please. m'on the pill, s'ok." You nodded as he pulled out of you. Your eyes widened feeling the sudden emptiness without him inside you.

"Steve why did you-" You asked as he turned you around, lifting you on to the countertop before sliding his cock back in to you again, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist with the feeling of him filling you again.

"Want to look at you when you come." Steve said as you bit your lip in sheer pleasure while he bucked his hips in to you. "You're so beautiful." He whispered nestling in to your neck.

That was it.

"Steve, I'm gonna..." You cried, closing your eyes, digging in to his shoulders as you winced in pleasure.

"Me too baby." He moaned, fighting back his own orgasm until he felt your body tighten and shudder around him, finally releasing the hot white ropes of cum in to you, his forehead leaning on your shoulder for support as you both tried desperately to catch your breath. It was only after a few seconds that Steve realised he was still inside you, eventually sliding out, helping you down from the counter. You avoided eye contact with the boy, not quite believing what had just happened between you. It was the last thing you ever expected to happen.

Once you both had come down from your high, you began to find pieces of your clothing that were scattered around the room, getting dressed just as quick as you had undressed each other previously.

“You ok?” You heard Steve mutter as you bent down to retrieve your skirt from the cold floor as he buttoned his shirt back up.

“Yeah, m’fine.” You replied, jumping in to your skirt, zipping it up as he kept his eyes focused on you. You weren’t expecting Steve to stay around while you dressed yourself, figuring he’d just walk out like he hadn’t just fucked you but he didn’t seem like he was in any rush to go back to his party.

"So what now?" He quizzed, buckling his belt, leaning against the countertop as you threw your top back over your head.

"What do you mean?" You asked, trying your best to fix your hair so it didn't look like you just had the hottest sex of your life with Steve Harrington.

"Are we just gonna go back to pretending we hate each other or?"

"Pretending?" You questioned, raising a brow at him as he let out a small laugh.

"Sweetheart, I just came inside of you, harder than I ever have actually. I don't really do that with people I hate." He revealed as you blushed.

"Me either...but that doesn't mean this is going to happen again." You warned as he rolled his eyes. "You know it's gonna happen again.”

"Steve!"

"What? One of us has to be honest here." He smirked as you shook your head, readying yourself to exit the bathroom.

"You forgetting something?" He coughed, swinging your panties on his index finger as you felt your cheeks go bright red again.

"Oh my god, Harrington, give them to me!" You giggled as he cupped your face, lightly kissing your lips unexpectedly as you kissed back, cursing yourself for the way you melted in to him again. You tried to grab your underwear but he scoffed shoving them back in to his pocket. "I just meant you forgot to kiss me goodbye, I'm keepin' these." He teased as you huffed, admitting defeat.

“You’re an asshole, Steve Harrington.”

“Yeah, but it turns you on.” He grinned as you took one last look at him before exiting the bathroom, trying your best to hide the smile that was quickly spreading across your face.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #steve stranger things #stranger things smut #steve harrington stranger things #king steve #steve the hair harrington #steve harrington fanfic

[themultifandomgal]

Tommy Shelby- 1 Becomes 2

They say that when you know who the one is you just know. I thought I knew, but I was wrong. So wrong. So wrong in fact I ended up here in small Heath having to take a barmaids job and sorting out the protection from the Peaky Blinders just to keep myself alive.

When I met my now ex, he was kind, handsome, a true gentleman. He had a well payed job and was respected amongst his colleagues. Woman wanted him, men wanted to be him. So when he took an interest in me there was no way I was going to pass up on that opportunity. Woman were envious which gave me a confidence boost… that is until a year into our relationship. He changed from the most gentle, kind guy to an evil son of a bitch. Threats were constantly made, bruises were often appearing on my arm in the shape of fingers, I tried to leave before, but he’d always suck me back in “I do this because I love you” he’d often say “there’s no one else but you. I need you” and I believed him. I believe him until I saw him fucking one on his coworkers butt naked bent over his desk. That was it. The final straw. He didn’t care about me, hell he probably never did. So I packed up my shit and left, but those threats he made never seemed empty.

I’d heard about the Peaky Blinders through the grapevine like most people, but most people don’t pack up their lives and leave to meet the dangerous men of Birmingham.

I finish closing up the Garrison when I hear the bell ring signalling that someone has just entered. I don’t bother turning around thinking it will be one of the regulars

“We’re closed” I say sounding bored

“Good job my brother owns the place eh?” Turning round I see Tommy Shelby strolling his way towards the bar I’m behind, cigarette hanging out of his mouth, peaky cap on his head as it always is. No one can deny that Tommy Shelby is handsome, but men have done nothing but cause me pain and heartache

“Mr Shelby” I acknowledge “whiskey?” Tommy grunts in response

“Make sure it’s…”

“Irish I know” I give him a little smile before turning round and grabbing a glass and Tommys usual whiskey. I slide it over to him as he stubs out his cigarette. I continue wiping down the surfaces trying to ignore the fact that Tommy Shelby is watching my every move making me nervous “is there anything else I can get you Mr Shelby”

“Enough with the formalities. Call me Tommy”

“Ok, Tommy, is there anything else I can get you?” I repeat my question

“Maybe” he replies, but doesn’t continue. Instead he downs his whiskey then rolls another cigarette on his lips before lighting it up. I stand there in silence, not really sure what to say until he finally tells me more

“I have a proposition for you” Tommy points his cigarette towards me while wearing a smirk across his face

“What… what’s that?” I nervously ask

“I want you to accompany me to the Cheltenham Race. I’ll purchase you a dress to wear”

“But why?”

“I heard your ex will be there with his new girl”

“Ok?” I frown still not knowing why Tommy wants me to go with him, but all he does is smirk before leaving alone in the pub.

The day of the CheltenhamRace arrives, Tommy picks me up in his car and drives us there. The ride was fairly quite, but a good quiet. It didn’t feel awkward at all, we we just both enjoying each other’s company. When we arrive, Tommy helps me out of the car

“Thanks you” I smile holding on to my clutch that Tommy bought. I feel him place his hand on my lower back, guiding me into the building

“You look beautiful by the way” Tommy lowly says, just quiet enough for only me to hear and close enough that I can feel his breath by my ear

“Thank you Tommy. You look very handsome yourself”

“This way” Tommy guides me, his hand never leaving the lower part of my back.

We end up in a room where jazz music is playing and many men and woman are dancing. That’s when I see him. I freeze staring at him from across the room

“Let’s show him what he’s lost then eh?”

“Pardon”

“Care to dance?” Tommy holds out his hand, this time he genuinely smiles at me. Not a smirk a real smile. I smile back and take his hand in mine and we begin to dance 

“I’m still confused to why you asked me here” I tell him as our bodies are pressed against one another

“Your ex…”

“No I know he’s here, but why do you care?”

“He’s been threatening you, talking shit about how if he wanted he could come to small Heath and take you back”

“How did he find out where I was? I didn’t tell anyone”

“Do you know who he works for?” Tommy asks. I shake my head in response “Billy Kimber”

“Shit” I breath out feeling scared

“But, he won’t fucking come near you now he knows your under the Peaky Blinders protection”

“Why do you care about me Tommy?”

“I’m drawn to you YN, like I’ve never been drawn to anyone else before. Let me keep you safe”

“I don’t know what to say”

“Say ok” Tommy says dipping me and looking into my eyes. Tommy Shelby is an enigma, but I truly don’t care. There’s something about him that now I’ve had a small taste, I know I’m going to be addicted.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders reader #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

How would the male companions go about helping/comforting a tav who’s “monthly visitor” came to town during their journey??

A/N: The timing of this ask is impeccable because guess what I just got? Lol. But seriously I would be mad as hell in the 5 or 6 days I’m supposed to stop my mind flayer parasite AND save the universe I ALSO had to deal with cramping and bleeding. Nu-uh. Nope. Sign me the fuck out. Goodbye cruel world, I would be DONE. 

TW: Mentions of Menstruation; Blood 

Tried to keep this Tav as Gender Neutral as possible so that it could apply to anyone who menstruates.  <3 

Please Like & Reblog! 

Male BG3 Companions Helping Tav w/ Their Period

⭐ Astarion: 

He probably notices it before Tav does

Of course, he offers to help “clean up” ;) (this may or may not get him a kick in the balls)

No, but seriously, if he and Tav are in a relationship, he’d have no qualms going down there himself every so often to “alleviate” some symptoms. That is, of course, if Tav would go for that kind of thing. Astarion won’t keep pushing it if Tav says “no”. He respects the hard boundaries Tav gives him. 

Of course, he teases Tav a bit. Not horribly, and it’s all in good fun. But enough to let Tav know that this matter doesn’t disgust or upset him in the slightest. It’s blood for devil's sake! What creature would be better prepared to handle it than him?

If any of Tav’s clothes end up stained or they end up bleeding through them, Astarion has just the thing to take the stains out. Turns out, knowing how to get blood out of most fabrics is quite beneficial knowledge in the vampire community. Plus he has an instinct for knowing where the best tailors and seamstresses in Baldur’s Gate are. Should Tav need an emergency change of clothes, he knows just the place! 

Then again, Astarion himself has no problem with the blood stains. After all, they’re traveling around killing monsters for gods sake! If anyone has a nasty comment about how much blood either he or Tav is drenched in, they better be damn quick on their feet. His arrows can shoot pretty far. ;P

As far as cramps or pain goes, if his previous, ahem, suggestion was shot down, he’ll make sure Tav takes a moment here and there to rest. He might even bother Gale, demanding some sort of heat pack. Scratch that. He’s most definitely harassing Gale for some sort of heating pack spell. 

If Gale refuses, he might even try and figure out how to fix one himself. Granted fire and vampires aren't the best of friends, but Tav is the only one in the last two-hundred-plus years to see him as a person. A little scorching here and there means nothing if Astarion can let Tav know how much he values them. 

🔮 Gale: 

He’s clueless, okay? Tav would have to outright tell him. I mean yes, he was raised by a single mom, but she didn’t exactly share the details of this stuff with him. And it never came up all the years he was with Mystra because goddesses don’t exactly reproduce the way other Faerun humanoids do! Please forgive him, he really does want to learn.

He immediately offers to find a spell or potion to either pause or skip this one altogether. He gets that Tav may want to opt out of dealing with it for the time being, seeing as the two of them have much more pressing matters to attend to. 

He’ll cast it himself if Tav wishes. Or he’ll find another trustworthy wizard to recommend. Although he does prefer to do it himself, he understands Tav might be uncomfortable with the thought of their new partner doing such a thing for them. His entire life has been spent studying magic, so of course he immediately thinks to use that to remedy any problem Tav has. 

Nevertheless, should Tav choose to deal with it in the old-fashioned non-magical way, he’s perfectly accepting of that as well. He’ll enquire about which local herbs are suitable for such applications, possibly even soliciting the help of an herbalist or surgeon. 

Gale wants to give Tav as many options for comfort as possible. If Tav’s concern is about heavy bleeding, he looks for answers on natural remedies to lighten the flow. Or he may even speak with a midwife about the best clothes and absorbent materials to use in the coming days.  

As awkward as he can be in social situations, he’s oddly great in this endeavor. He treats it the way he would a Weave experiment- with an open mind and curiosity. At the end of the day what matters is Tav knows how much Gale admires and respects them. And that he doesn’t think of them any less for having this bodily function. If anything, he admires Tav more for being so forthcoming. It’s an ask that actually strengthens his and Tav’s relationship. 

🗡 Wyll: 

Wyll probably shies away from it the most. It’s not that he doesn’t want to help Tav in any way he can, it’s just that he’s a gentleman, and to his knowledge, speaking of certain subjects with the one you like, isn’t something a well-behaved gentleman would do. That being said, a true gentleman is always prepared to put away their discomfort in order to aid their friends, so that’s exactly what he does. 

He enlists the help of Shadowheart almost immediately. He knows realistically, there are others he could ask (midwives, doctors, healers), but Shadowheart is an ally and a Cleric to boot. So her skills as well as her knowledge may very well come in handy. 

He’ll go along with whatever Tav decides, but he, like Gale, recommends Tav either suspend or skip this round. He thinks it wise to have all their wits about them for the battles ahead. With demons like Mizora and Raphael running about, none of them can afford to get distracted. Again, if Tav chooses to push through it, he’ll be kind and supportive, and request Shadowheart’s healing in subduing some of the more troublesome symptoms. But deep down, he’s happier should Tav decide to use magic or spells to resolve the issue for the time being. 

And then, Wyll goes all out in preparation for the next one. Once their fight is won, he can turn his attention back to his family- his Father, and of course, Tav. He makes sure his family home has a room for them, customized in many ways to Tav’s liking. Wyll has their favorite color blanket, a soft pillow, their favorite flavor tea in an enchanted flask to keep it just the perfect temperature… the list goes on and on. 

He loves Tav so much. He just wants them to be comfortable, and to feel safe to express whatever feelings they have. After all, Tav is the best thing to ever happen to him. 

🌱 Halsin: 

The nice thing about him being ‘one with nature’ is that he has no unease regarding the subject. He is an archdruid, and some three-hundred years old at that- believe me, there’s very little Tav’s body could throw at him that he’s not ready to receive. 

Out of all the companions, Halsin is the one most likely to not immediately suggest using magical means to pause or skip it. Instead, he has more natural aids at the ready- herbs, teas, heat packs, massages, and well, yes, even that. ;)

The difference between Halsin suggesting it and Astarion suggesting it, however, is that Halsin’s motivations are more focused on what he can do for Tav and their body; they’re not based on the idea of mutual satisfaction. Halsin has had countless lovers and years to understand pleasure. He knows you take turns giving, and he’s well very versed in that. 

Or if Tav isn't up for that, he'll offer to shift into a cat and rest on their abdomen, using his body heat to lessen Tav’s cramps. 

He’s also the most ‘normal’ when it comes to continuing their journey. He won’t make a habit of fussing over Tav unless they specifically request him to do so. Periods, however annoying and painful, are a part of life, of nature. Halsin believes it best to learn how to accept nature, and live in harmony with it, rather than try and prevent it. 

If Tav does want to explore other means of stopping this particular cycle, however, Halsin will help them any way he can, even if he doesn’t think it very wise to mess with the flow of nature like that. As a druid healer himself, he knows a few things or too about reproductive spells. He can make it so the symptoms lessen, or temporarily subside until their perilous journey has come to a close. 

Halsin may not want to settle for a single lover, but out of all of them, Tav seems to shine the brightest. He would do anything within his power to aid them. 

Bonus! 💪 Minsc (and 🐹 Boo!): 

He offers to fight it lol. Just straight up. 

“What is this thing causing you stress? Tell Minsc where it is so he can destroy it for you!” 

Boo basically has to be the one in charge of the situation, but then again, what’s new? 

Boo finds the supplies Tav might need, and directs Minsc to them. Boo also directs Minsc towards either Shadowheart or Halsin, because they’re better suited for dealing with these sorts of things. 

Once Minsc understands what Tav meant, he apologizes with a bouquet of wildflowers he picked. 

And by ‘picked’ I mean mostly smooshed before ripping their roots out of the ground.  

He's really trying okay, give the man some credit.

And give Boo treats to thank him for his service.

#astarion x tav #gale x tav #wyll x tav #halsin x tav #bg3 x tav #baldurs gate imagine #bg3 imagine #bg3 #hc #tw: periods #tw: blood #tw periods #tw blood

[forestkniight]

Quitting I.M.P.

So... this is my first post on Tumblr! I'm not sure if I formatted everything correctly, but I hope it's somewhat readable! I decided I would go a bit tame on my first post since it's also been a long while since I've written anything for fun, but I hope y'all enjoy!!

Pairing: Blitz x Reader

Warning: Swearing

Word Count: 1.8K

You felt the anger boiling over as you and the other I.M.P. crew crossed into Hell from where you were on Earth. 

It was supposed to be a simple mission. Kill some cheating husband or something of the sort. It should have been a quick in and out, and to be fair, it was. That’s not what bothered you. 

For the past couple of missions, Blitz had taken away your chance to kill anyone. Every time you set up to kill the target, he would swipe in and kill them first, or he would have Millie or Moxxie take care of it. You knew you were one of the more recent additions to this business, but you had done more than prove yourself working with them in the first few weeks. It pissed you off, and this time around wasn’t any different. 

You were packing away your lunch quickly as you tried your best to mask your frustration and anger. 

“Are you good? You look like you want to bite off someone’s head,” Loona said as she took notice of how hard you were clutching your bag. 

“Just peachy,” you muttered as you began heading out. 

Luck, however, was not on your side as you remembered that the entire crew was supposed to go out for drinks that night. 

“Took you long enough, (Y/N)! The fuck were you doing anyways,” Blitz asked as you stepped back into the main lobby. 

You had to fight off a snarl that threatened to come out. Both Millie and Moxxie noticed something was wrong since your sweet demeanor was nowhere to be found. You took a breath before responding.

“I was packing up my stuff for the night,” you calmly responded, ensuring your emotions weren’t showing. You knew leaving it all pent up would end up bubbling over, but it hadn’t happened yet.

“You could just leave it here! Drinks are on me tonight!” 

You clutched your bag tighter and saw Moxxie looking back and forth between you and Blitz. 

Moxxie was the only one who knew about your crush on your boss because he happened to find you drunk at a bar one time and wanted to make sure you got home safe. Boy had you spilled a lot of information about your feelings that night. Luckily for you, Moxxie wasn’t the meddling type, though he did encourage you to tell Blitz how you felt. 

“Respectfully, sir, I’m really tired, and I just want to go home,” you said with a bit more hostility than you meant to.

The crew looked at you, confused. 

“Maybe we can do this another-“ Moxxie tried to interject, but Blitz interrupted him.

“The fucks got your panties in a twist?” 

You felt your eye twitch as Moxxie cringed. 

“I don’t know SIR. How about the fact that these past few clients we’ve had, you’ve managed to take the opportunity from me to kill them,” you spit out in exasperation. 

“Are you fucking serious right now,” Blitz moved closer to you, “You’re getting paid regardless. Why the fuck does it matter?” 

You clenched your fist tighter but stayed firm where you stood.

“I didn’t join this fucking business just to stand around and look pretty asshole!” 

You saw Blitz’s eye widen at the curse word since he wasn’t used to hearing it come from your mouth. 

“If you think I’m shit at my job, then fucking fire me or tell me what I’m doing wrong,” you yelled at him.

He remained speechless before you saw his expression change.

“Maybe I fucking should! At least someone who is actually pretty to look at, just in case, you bitch!” Blitz yelled in your face.

The silence that followed was extremely tense, as you and Blitz were suddenly very much in each other’s space. You felt your heart completely break, and Moxxie saw the quick, pained expression you couldn’t hide before becoming stoic. 

“Sir, that was uncalled for. They are highly skilled at their job. It would be a mistake-“ 

“No, you know what Moxxie? You heard it from the boss himself,” you laughed mirthlessly, cutting Moxxie off.  

You backed away from Blitz and picked up the bag you had dropped at some point during the screaming match. You began walking towards the door. Moxxie tried to stop you, but one stare showed that you weren’t fucking around. You heard Blitz sigh behind you.

“(Y/N), wait-“ Blitz started as you turned around quickly with your hand on the door handle.

“No, Blitz. I’ll make this easier for you. I fucking quit. Find someone better than me in all aspects,” you say harshly. 

You couldn’t help the tears that were pooling. Blitz’s eyes softened when he noticed, but you didn’t see it. You were ready to go, so you pushed open the door.

“You can’t just quit like that! On such short fucking notice! I can’t find someone that fucking quick,” Blitz yelled.

You couldn’t hear the desperation in his voice, only that he was yelling at you. 

“Don’t fucking yell at me! This business is no longer my fucking problem! God, I can’t believe I ever had feelings for you,” you scream at him as you walk out the door and slam it behind you. 

You were unaware of the chaos you left behind when that door closed.

~~

It had been a week since you quit I.M.P.

Luckily, you were wiser with your paychecks than Blitz, so you had enough to tide you over while you searched for a new job. 

Everyone except Blitz had come to visit you separately. The first and shortest visit was Loona. You had forgotten your favorite necklace in the office and begged her to drop it off. 

When she arrived, she was surprised to see you in disarray. Your hair was slightly messy, your eyes puffy, and you hadn’t changed out of your PJs. It was the day after, and you were utterly heartbroken. 

“Thanks, Loona,” you whispered as you took your favorite necklace back.

“No problem. Blitz saw me leaving with it, though. Moxxie managed to step in before he could reach me. Not like I would have handed it to him anyway.” 

There wasn’t much conversation before she decided to return to the office.

The following person to visit was Millie. Luckily, she saw you in a better state than Loona did, but your eyes hadn’t lost their puffiness. 

“Me and Mox miss you, (Y/N). It’s not the same without you,” Millie said as she passed you a pint of ice cream. 

“Right…”

“I’m serious! We know you’re good at killing, but you were also fun on the field!” Millie looked at you, and you knew she was being genuine. You thanked her, and she stayed with you that night, watching many movies. 

The last person to visit was Moxxie, who had much more to say.

“I’m sorry (Y/N), but what made you think that was the best way to confess?” Mox said as he stood right next to you in your bed. 

“It just came out, Mox. I didn’t mean to,” you sighed as you tried to fight off the tears again, “I wanted my words to hurt him as much as he did.”

After speaking those words out loud, you curled into yourself and silently cried. You heard Moxxie sigh.

“(Y/N), I really think you should talk to him,” Moxxie said, something in his tone. 

Still, you didn’t respond.

“I know he can be- “

“Moxxie….I need you to leave,” you said with a tear-filled voice. 

“(Y/N),” Moxxie tried to start again. 

“Please,” you begged. 

“Fine…I’ll be back, though,” he said, sighing. 

You felt a kiss on your head, and a few seconds later, you heard the door close. You let yourself cry and spend the rest of the day in bed.

~~

That was two days ago. You finally had enough and knew the money wasn’t never-ending. You began your job searching, but you weren’t having any luck.

You sighed as you dropped face-first on your couch, trying to forget all the horrible interviews you had been on today. You weren’t a perfect fit for any of the jobs, and you were beginning to wonder if it was worth it to return and get your job back.

You looked at the time and realized that you had been out all day. You decided to change into your comfy pajama shorts and tank top, deciding you weren’t going out anymore. If you were still working at I.M.P., you would have much more to do on a Friday night. 

You turned on the TV, letting it lull you to sleep as you spent another night alone.

~~

You were awoken at 1 AM by knocking on the door. You groaned as you wondered who could be waking you up at this hour. Moxxie did say he would be back, but you didn’t think it’d be in the dead of night. You yanked the door open, speaking before processing who stood before you.

“Damn it, Mox, I was slee-“ You cut off your words when you realized it wasn’t Moxxie in front of you, but Blitz.

You moved to shut your door again, but he shoved his foot in the door frame before pushing the door open and inviting himself in.

“That’s fucking rude,” Blitz said harshly as he took a look around your apartment.

“Says the asshole who’s inside an apartment that he wasn’t invited into,” you spat back at him. 

You saw Blitz roll his eyes and turn back to face you fully. You avoided his eye contact as you walked to your kitchen to get a drink of water. You heard the clicks of Blitz’s boots as he followed you.

As you filled your cup, you tried to think of what to say, but luckily, you wouldn’t have to.

“Can we talk?” 

“There’s nothing to talk about, Blitz,” you said as you moved past him to walk to your bedroom, “I don’t work for you anymore.”

“Christ on a stick (Y/N), can you stop being a bitch for 5 seconds,” Blitz told you as you set your water down on your nightstand.

“Get the fuck out of my room! No, out of my house,” you yelled, walking towards him, having half a mind to toss him out. 

“No, not until we fucking talk,” Blitz said as he closed your bedroom door and walked towards you.

“I’ve already said there’s nothing to talk about,” you yelled in exasperation.

“Fucking fine,” Blitz yelled back. 

You watched him turn to your door, hand on the handle. You were confused as to why he wasn’t leaving.

“Are you waiting for an invitation, Blitz!? Get the fuck out,” you began walking towards him again. 

“Fuck this shit,” you heard him mutter before he abruptly turned around.

You had no time to react before Blitz pulled you into him and kissed you hard. You let out a squeak of surprise, and Blitz used this to deepen the kiss. After the initial surprise, you began kissing back. The kiss was desperate, your teeth clashing and your pulse rising significantly.

You had no idea this was where the night would take you.

I hope that was fine! Please bear with me as I try to get used to Tumblr (and forgive any formatting errors)!

Also, please always let me know if I forgot to tag a warning!

#blitz #blitzø #blitzo #helluva boss blitz #blitz helluva boss #helluva boss blitzo #blitzo helluva boss #blitz x reader #blitzo x reader #helluva x reader #helluva boss x reader

[softguarnere]

Hi, Dove!

It’s been awhile! I hope you’re doing well!

Sending in an request, idk where this is going😂

Okay so female reader with Liebgott and something along the lines where one of them yells “BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, YOU IDIOT!” in the middle of an argument. I’m not really sure about the rest of the details, so you can do whatever you want😂

Have a great day!

Hardheaded At Best

Joe Liebgott x reader

A/N: Hi lovely! Thanks so much for another wonderful request! I hope you enjoy it, and that you have a great day as well 💕 (This is written for the fictional depictions from the show - no disrespect to the real life veterans!) Warnings: language, mentions of war

When was the last time that you felt this angry, this fired up? Some distant part of you wonders as white-hot wrath courses through your veins. Your nails dig into the soft beds of your palms, barely containing yourself as you stalk through the hallways, boots echoing off the walls of the remnants of Haguenau’s buildings. Although you think you’re doing a pretty good job of appearing calm, the people who pass you by give you concerned looks as they watch you go. Is it that obvious?

Either it’s not, or Liebgott is good at pretending. Because when you stomp into the room, he only glances up at you. He doesn’t look ready to fight, or even to throw a witty remark your way.

For a moment, you just stand before him, spluttering as you work out what to say and gasping as you try to catch your breath over the adrenaline caused by the anger surging through you. Finally, you manage to spit out the simplest question you can manage. “Joey, what did you do?”

The two of you are the only ones in the room. There’s no one else around. No one else to look cool for, to perform for. Yet Joe continues calmly smoking his cigarette. He blows a smoke ring, as if you haven’t just demanded an answer, then grinds out his cigarette and looks up at you, completely neutral.

“I did what I had to do.”

“Am I the only person in second platoon not going on this patrol?” You wonder aloud. “Tab said that you volunteered to take my place.”

Joe shrugs. “Yeah.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, forcing a lungful of air to try and calm yourself. You don’t want to yell. Hell, you and Joe were so competitive back in Toccoa, half teasing and half not as you competed against each other in everything, that you’ve been determined not to argue since you finally became friends back Holland. But this – this is testing your resolve.

“Why would you do that?” You ask slowly, emerging from behind your hand to look at him again – still infuriatingly casual.

“(Y/N), the war is almost over.”

“So they say.”

“I’m not risking losing you over there,” Joe says. “We’ve been watching each other’s backs forever now. But we’re too close to making it out of this thing to risk it all now. Besides, what’s the point of having two translators?”

He’s not risking losing you over there? “But what about you, huh? I don’t want to lose you either, Joe.”

“Had to be one of us.”

He’s right. Someone has to be able to communicate with the prisoners that will be taken. But if someone has to go, you would prefer that both of you cross that river. Then one of you wouldn’t be waiting anxiously all night. You could watch each other’s backs, just like you’ve been doing.

Any points you might make to refute his lodge in your throat, sticking there while you fumble. Liebgott is hardheaded at the best of times; you don’t know what to say to make him see this from your perspective.

The conflicting emotions must show on your face, because Joe cocks an eyebrow in question. “Why does this bother you so much, anyway? It’s not like this is the first time only one of us has gone on a patrol.”

No, but it’s the first time that this has happened since you became friends. Since you started caring about him. Since you started worrying about losing him . . .

That’s when the realization hits you. The emotion that underlies all of your internal conflict isn’t anger – it’s fear. Fear of losing someone you’ve grown to care for.

“Joe, I can’t let you go alone. I’ll talk to Speirs myself. I – “

“(Y/N), no!” In a second, Joe jumps up from his chair and places a hand on your shoulder to stop you. His eyes are wide, and he’s got an expression that you’ve never seen before, and that you can’t quite place. “I got you taken off that patrol for a reason.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have,” you retort, a renewed wave of anger sweeping over you. “It wasn’t your choice to make.”

“I did it because I love you, you idiot!” Joe exclaims. Then he blinks, as if stunned by his own words. Perhaps they did not have his permission to be spoken. Or maybe they weren’t planned, or he doesn’t know where they came from.

You certainly don’t. Don’t know where they came from, that is. Joe never seemed interested in anything romantic with you. You, however, have occasionally allowed your mind to wander to a place where your friend is something a little more – a place where he holds your hand and reserves all his warmest smiles just for you. You never would have imagined that his mind had wandered in a similar direction. “You – you what?”

Joe hesitates, then nods, confirming his words to both you and himself. “I love you, (Y/N). That’s why I got you taken off the patrol. So that I don’t have to worry about you.”

“That’s why I want to be on the patrol – with you! So I don’t have to worry.”

“Oh.” Joe blinks again, taking it all in. “I tried to protect you. You tried to protect me. We both fucked up.” He tilts his head, studying you. “Do you really?”

“What?”

“Love me?”

“Yes,” you answer with no hesitation. It’s strange to say it out loud. To realize it, here, in this moment, at maybe the same time that he did. And right before the patrol places you on two different sides of that river, where God knows what will happen.

Gently, Liebgott takes your hand. His lips are warm when he presses them against your knuckles in a sweet kiss. “Then I have a reason to make it back across the river.”

Your heart trips over itself in your chest. How cruel is fate, to let it happen like this. “You better. Joseph Liebgott, I swear to God, you better come back from the patrol.”

But maybe fate isn’t cruel after all. Because you’ve hardly left the room, hardly stepped outside, when Major Winters stops the two of you and informs you that Joe will not be crossing the river – he will be staying firmly on this side to provide covering fire, with you.

The major walks away like nothing happened, leaving the two of you confused, but smiling. You can’t help but laugh as you take it in. “What happened?” You wonder aloud. After all, how are they going to take German prisoners without a translator?

“No clue.” Joe squeezes your hand. “But I ain’t complaining.”

It’s brief, but from across the street, Webster catches your eye. The Harvard man gives you a nod. He’s a writer. A romantic, even.

You return the gesture, wondering if Joe saw it as well. “Yeah. Me neither.”

#joe liebgott #joe liebgott x reader #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagine #my writing

[simp4fictionalmenandjesus]

yandere rin itoshi>>>

he will be soooo cold and not outwardly affectionate (at first) but on the inside he is absolutely OBSESSED.

like rin will seem literally so indifferent to you, but every-time you glance at him, he’ll be purposely not making eye contact because if he does he will be SOOOO RED, because even though it doesn’t show, your slightest acknowledgment cause rin to FREAK out. ‘omg omg omg she’s looking at me what do i do… she’s so pretty fuck i love her so much. if she keeps looking over here i don’t think i’ll be able to restrain myself🙏🙏🙏.’

you would think that when you start dating it gets better but bro… it gets worse💀💀💀. you’ll text him, not anything specific, just a normal text, something as simple as ‘hi, what are you up to?’ and he will leave you on read. it takes him around 8 hours to reply because he is overfilled with joy that you texted him. he is giggling and kicking his feet in the air type shit.

one day you texted him, asking if he wanted to get dinner, this was the first time that rin’s teammates have ever witnessed him smile. you texted him before his game against the U-20 japan team, wishing him luck and telling him you’d be cheering in the stands, and omfg. everyone in that locker room was like 🙀. rin was straight up smiling, and not one of those devious smiles his teammates were used to, this smile was a soft, ‘i’m so in love’ smile. you best believe that someone, (bachira), teased him PROFUSELY.

talking about the U-20 game, the first thing he did on court, before directing murderous thoughts towards his brother, was look for you in the stands. when he found you, he smiled softly, which you 100% could not see because well, you didn’t bring binoculars. after the match, he went to find you immediately, he didn’t even bother changing out of his jersey, so bro was sweaty as hell.

he hugged you incredibly tight, like bone crushingly tight. he lifted you up the ground and was kissing you profusely. this was actually the turning point in your relationship where rin started showing affection.

he introduced you to the blue lock team that day, just because he did not want to let you out of his sight for a second but he had to recuperate with ego and the team. so essentially. rin forced you to wait outside the locker rooms for him while he showered and since he was clinging to you straight after the match, his teammates finished before him and walked out of the locker room to see you, in rin’s jacket.

again, everyone went 🙀. you were bombarded with questions about your relationship, and by the time rin finished with his shower, you were already well acquainted with the blue lock boys.

rin was not happy about this at all. how dare they, his rivals, talk to you. he definitely dragged you away and kept you for himself, if his teammates and you exchanged numbers, he’d immediately block them and delete them off your phone.

he wouldn’t show his obsessive tendencies until you’ve been in a relationship with him for longer, the only reason he hadn’t kept you exclusively by his side so far was because he didn’t have the power to do so. he forces you to go to all of his games, press conferences, sometimes he’ll even drag you along to his practice whether you are busy or not, in fact, you probably won’t be busy because he’s made sure that you don’t have a job with long hours or a job at all. oh? what if you’re hanging out with friends? well, that won’t do… it’s time for some guilt tripping. “oh… but I need you there, are you friends more important than me?”

You’ll be spending every hour of the day with him, because after his games, press conferences and practices, he’ll bring you out for a meal, and then you’re going back home with him.

rin is the type of person who wants their loved one to rely solely on them. he’s really subtle with it too. he’ll slowly incorporate himself into every factor of your life, he wants your life to revolve around him, just as much as his revolves around you.

If you ever do realise how possessive and frankly, psycho he is, and try to leave him... well, i did say this man is a simp, rin will be begging on his knees, tears falling out of his eyes, hugging you tightly and not letting you go. honestly, you’ll be shocked because this is the first time you’ve seen him be sooooo emotional.

and if you try to get help from law enforcement? well, i hate to break it to you, but that’s never gonna work, because blue lock, and subsequently the government spent so much money to make these insane strikers and rin is one of, if not, the best strikers in the world. it’ll be covered up and you’ll be trapped.

as soon as you’re in captivity, his affection will dial up to 110%. now, he let’s his innermost thoughts out, because you’re finally all his. <3

#yandere rin itoshi #yandere itoshi rin #yandere rin itoshi x reader #yandere itoshi rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi rin x reader #blue lock x reader #yandere blue lock #rin itoshi #itoshi rin #yandere blue lock x reader #s4fmaj fics

[igotanidea]

Shitstorm: Jason Todd x stripper!reader

Yes I know the picture does not fit here perfectly, go ahead and judge me :D

part 1 : Backyard

***

The pack of cigarettes flew her way in a perfect arc. Y/N was quick enough to catch it and only then took a look around to check whether it was some higher power being generous after a hell of a night. Spoiler alert : it wasn’t.

„Hm. It’s you.” she smirked looking at the familiar black-haired boy standing on the bottom of the stairs to the club.

„I always pay my debts sunshine.” Jason smiled mischievously.

‘Great. That makes us even and we can gladly forget about each other.”

For no particular reason he was making her nervous, be it on purpose or accidentally. And it was weird. All things considered, she was the girl who was undressing for half-drunk, aroused men in a club. Having eyes and interest on her should be nothing special given the specific of her profession, and yet Jason’s attitude was-- different.

As cliche as that sounded.

Just to calm her nerves she reached one cigarette and lighted it up, letting the addiction take control of her thoughts and making them just a bit clearer. It was nice and peaceful and for a moment she forgot about this annoying piece of muscles still standing down there with his hands in pockets.

„What?” she hissed

„Charming as usual.’

‘We only talked once.”

„Twice.”

„This is not talking.”

„Last time I checked exchanging words were count as conversation.”

„Smart ass” she muttered wondering about the best way to walk past him. Currently it was a bit impossible because his tall muscled frame was blocking her only way out.

„Is that all you have to say?”

„Did you lost your brother again, little boy? Maybe I should go check inside for someone interesting.”

„Come on, I can tell you’re eyeing me like I’m your next client. I’m not so little and you know it” he grinned not even bothering to play coy. Completely unlike last time.

„Seen better.” she shrugged not giving him any satisfaction nor boosting his ego.

„You sure? Thought you were a stripper not a hooker?”

‘How do you know nothing changed since last time?”

‘Did it?” this time his tone was a bit more serious as he looked at her. He didn’t want it to be true. As pathetic as it sounded he needed this girl to keep her sharp mind and even sharper tongue. He had some business that needed to be taken care of. Concerning that last villain he’s been chasing. With no success.

But.

Now he might have leverage.

Before she could make a move, as agile as a cat he slid to the top of the stairs, taking a spot next to her leaning on the door. She rolled her eyes trying to shove him away, but it only caused him to laugh.

„Why are you here again?”

„Business.”

„That’s vague.”

„Got your interest though.”

„If you’re looking for some fun and changed so much since the last time you run away from the crowd, may I remind you there are plenty girls inside. I can even recommend one or two who would love to have their hands on you. I have no idea why do you always keep destroying my work breaks.”

„I was hoping that couple from last week would be here.”

„They broke up.” she chuckled

„Oh, really, who would have thought?” Jason chuckled back „they seemed close.”

‘You have no idea.” she instinctively passed him the pack of cigarettes

‘Is that an invitation to further talk?” his eyebrows raised but being a chain smoker he could not refuse

„It’s an invitation to shut your mouth. For a guy, you do talk freaking lot.”

„Told you I got business to discuss.”

„And I told you --”

„I’m serious y/n.” he looked at her with a mix of annoyance, desperation and honesty.

„I’m at work.” she turned her head away from those pretty green eyes.

„Didn’t notice. Besides, you got ten minutes of break left.”

„So now you’re stalking me and know my schedule?”

‘Sure.” Jason shrugged „I also know where you live.”

„Bullshit!” she she blew smoke straight into his face „if you knew you would wait for me there, cutting my any way out. And yet, you’re here. In the dodgy neighbourhood, in a seedy strip club.”

„Aren’t you ever scared your attitude would get you in trouble?”

„You have no idea, pretty boy. Talked my way out of most of them. Got scars to prove it.” she pulled her skimpy top off slightly showing him some scars on the side and belly. „So you better not mess with me.”

If only she knew she has been talking to the Red Hood all this time.

Unless, which was actually very probable, it wouldn’t have any effect on her.

For a moment both of them went quiet. Thinking about the strangeness of the situation they found themselves in. In a different timeline they would never met let alone start becoming... something. What that something was, was still to be defined (or not), but for some indescribable reason that little bantering was becoming quite enjoyable.

Finally as her break was coming to the end she threw the cigarette on the ground extinguishing it with a shoe.

„What’s the business? And if you can’t describe it in three sentences max I swear I’ll stop listening and throw you down the stairs.”

„Deal!” Jason laughed and shook her outstretched hand „I need a pair of sharp eyes, a fast working brain and a cute face to watch someone for me.”

‘Ok. I wear lenses, my brain goes off sometimes making me do reckless things and I my face is far from cute when I get angry. Do I still qualify?” she raised an eyebrow suddenly uncharacteristically animated at the proposition. A magnet for trouble that girl was.

„Trust me sunshine, you’ll the perfect candidate for the position.”

And just like that she became some sort of spy. Or- was about to become, cause her little adventure was only about to start.

Did Jason have regrets and guilts about dragging her into the Red Hood and the Bats’ shit? Yes. Maybe a little. But still, he didn’t know her well enough to get actually worried even if something were to happen to her.

Brutal approach, but absolutely necessary in the line of work. You get some you loose some and the casualties were an integral part of his life.

Do not get attached. EVER.

And she didn’t need to know about his other identity and his whole plan. Just the parts that were important from her point of view. Observing the villain, getting close to him using her professional skills. Be some sort of double agent.

Just work. Nothing more nothing less.

And that little stinging in his chest was only the effect of some earlier shooting that happened this week leaving him slightly injured.

Nothing more.

Definitely no regret from just throwing her into the middle of the shitstorm.

***

Spoiler alert: Y/N was not stupid.

And knew where to dig to find the information needed to the full picture of the situation.

She didn’t do shitstorm.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd x y/n #red hood x y/n #jason todd x you #red hood x you #jason todd fanfiction #red hood fanfiction

[kindlingkeen]

I need to know if I’m alone in this or maybe missing something.

It always bothers me when people say Tim’s childhood was so much worse than Jason’s, or even says they’re the same kinda thing. Am I the only one in this?? (More specifically when they compare them) Like it feels like they’re minimizing Jason’s story to nothing, when it makes his character up as much as his death does. (I’ve even seen people compare Tim’s childhood to Jason’s death, which is. A choice.)

Granted, I’m not a big Tim fan (he’s a cool character, just not the one I focus on) so maybe I’ve missed some part of his canonical backstory or ive subconsciously got something against his character idk.

But from my understanding, Tim is a rich kid who was taken care of (as in, he always had what he needed), just his parents were neglectful? Or away? (Not to say this isn’t bad, of course wouldn’t wish that on a kid either)

But Jason’s lived surrounded by crime and poverty, hell we see panels where he’s hurt and generally not havin a great time.

And I’m fine with people making angst worse because like, favourite character. I’m sure I’m guilty of doing the same to Jason (fave character bias and whatnot) it’s just something that strikes me as odd. But hey, maybe I just don’t know about some canon panel that shows Tim’s childhood as a tragedy where he almost died countless times (another thing I’ve seen fans use)

So yeah. Generally, what do you think about this? I am not too great with character analysis & whatever else, but I like the stuff you’ve said in regards to characters. I know you’re a Jason fan, unsure about how you feel about Tim/how much you know, but curious about your opinion anyway. Thanks.

You are not alone, anon.

You’re also not missing anything in canon, Tim’s childhood was not a tragedy (his parents traveled a lot and he spent his time in boarding school). Were his parents on the neglectful side? Yes. Does that equate to being parentless and living on the street before the age of 12? No. I answered an Ask about Tim a little while ago explaining why I don’t really care much for Tim in the comics or a lot of fanfics. And I only ranted a little about how projecting Jason’s trauma onto Tim is Not. Cool. So maybe check that out.

As for my opinion on this … *takes a deep breath* Let me start by saying that everyone should like what they like, read what they want, write what they want, etc. No judgement or shame intended at all.

But … my opinion is that the enemy-to-caretaker trope is to blame for the over abundance of this dynamic in the fandom.

It seems like this trope grew out of/is a Gen take on enemies-to-lovers. I have absolutely no problem with this trope in general. In fact, I quite enjoy it in certain settings. But the thing is, lovers can be equals. But a caretaker, that has an inherent power imbalance to the relationship. A caretaker takes care of a person who is in some way weaker or less able than them.

So, to make Jason a caretaker for Tim, you somehow have to make Tim weaker, and with time and repetition that’s gotten amplified to much weaker.

The easiest way to do this is to jack up the angst and trauma of Tim’s origin story and increase his overall vulnerability. Because in reality, the inherent power imbalance between Jason and Tim is not that significant. Jason is only two years older than Tim. They’re both supposed to be badass vigilantes who can fight and solve crimes. Tim’s home life was loads more stable and supportive.

Play a few games of fanfic telephone, and all of a sudden you have a baseline of touch-starved Timmy who was made to sleep in a cupboard under the stairs as a wee little niblet and then Lazarus-mad Jason came along and tried to murder him repeatedly (nope), slit his throat (‘twas but a scratch), and generally traumatized him beyond repair (Tim is Robin, pretty sure he’s been beaten up before). 🤦‍♀️

That’s my opinion, anon! Thanks for the ask! 💙

#keen converses #an essay on the influence of the caretaker to enemy trope on the batfam fandom #tim is like plain cheerios #they’re fine #but why would i choose them when i can have honey nut #<- jason being the honey nut here #jason todd #tim drake