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just-some-random-blogger · 6 months

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The Salt In My Blood

You were the beloved Jewel of the Realm, the youngest Targaryen born to Alyssa and Baelon. Though your nature resembled more a lamb rather than a dragon, you posed a threat at court, for a single word out of your mouth inspired a thousand actions from The King and The Rogue Prince. Thus, your match with the Lord of the Iron Islands.

Daemon Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader x Dalton Greyjoy | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, targcest (sister!reader), reader has valyrian features (silver hair, violet eyes), power imbalance, graphic depictions of violence/assault/murder/death, canon divergence/inaccurate timelines, ye old misogyny, fuckedupedness of men, smut (dub con, loss of virginity, piv, biting, marking, breeding kink, corruption kink, baby trapping, cockwarming, cunnilingus), internet translated high valyrian, angst, social commentary, typos, etc.

A/N: !!mind the warnings!! This is really yucky because it is. all men do is hurt women. Also I did basic research for Dalton Greyjoy and just used him cuz I needed a character. idk what he's actually like and I'm 99% sure this timeline doesn't add up so, just roll w it ok? Ok. If my internet translated high valyrian sucks, well, it be like that. And surprise surprise i made another song for a fic because i should make use of my music degree while im jobless 💔 my heart goes out to @arabellasleopardcoat because her fic capital really poked my brain and got me fired up enough to write/create again, even if just for this fic. i love you.

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @delicious-xx @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony @risefallrise @thebullship @sa3losa @sloanexx @azperja @happilyhertale

Father, father, shining star, save my brother from the war. Mother, mother, hold me close. I fear brother won't come home. So, I pray, night and day, I do my duty here. Find me, oh [a] husband, so fierce with not a fear. Father, father hears my prayer. Mother, mother dries my tears. All my strife ends tonight for my husband's here.

"But what if someone sees," you whisper.

Daemon clutches your hand tighter as you hurry down the hall. He looks over to you, your expression matches your shaky voice.

Perhaps, had the conditions been different, he'd be softened by your words. The ferocity of his protectiveness would have made him stop in his footsteps and clutch your cheek. Perhaps he would have promised to safeguard you.

But these conditions did not elicit such urges from him. No. It stoked the fires bacchanal in his gut. The stolen taste of your honeyed lips in the garden was not enough.

Daemon finally brings his darling sister into his bedroom, and there, he answers you, "who would dare spy on the king's heir, the prince of the realm?"

Your breath quickens at the sound of your brother locking the door.

The prince of the realm stalks over to you, a dragon gazing upon a meek lamb.

Again, you whisper, "what if someone finds out?"

Daemon could growl. He almost did as he grabs your waist and sinks his head into the crook of your tender neck. You don't even react when he does this, save for your gasp.

Oh, how like you, how docile and doe-like, never one to raise your voice, or fight back, especially not with him.

"Let them find out, sister," he claws your clothing, "then they will not steal you from me."

You are so pliant as he squeezes you, so soft as he roughs you back to his bed. You let him handle you like he did your dolls growing up. He treated them with less than a quarter of the gentleness you would; they'd end up tattered and broken because of him by the end of your playing session, much to your heartbreak.

Though you cried about it, you never once held it against him, because each time, Daemon would wipe your tears and apologize. He liked breaking your dolls. He liked being your comfort.

He knew without a sliver of doubt you'd let him do the same to your body. You'd let him break you, then kiss the tears off your cheeks. You'd let him, for he was your star, and you were his doll.

Daemon presses you beneath him. He lays you down where he sleeps. He kisses you, the way he has sometimes imagined he would while touching himself, or while in the arms of another. His long, silver hair cascades down his shoulder, joining your long, silver hair that's spilled on his pillows.

For so long, he's denied himself of you, because you were too pure, too darling to be tainted.

You whimper as he pushes your skirts up, bunching them by your ribs.

But now, it's all different.

His mouth suckles its way to your neck.

"Daemon."

Now, it's not about denial. It's about what's right. It's about what you deserve.

"Daemon-" you whimper when he reaches into the waistband of your smallclothes, "-wait."

He breathes hotly against your jaw. He grabs your knees and parts them for himself.

You push his shoulders back, catching his attention. He is displeased, and not even your glassy eyes could quell it. He warns you with an annoyed sound.

You gulp but mutter anyway, "this is wrong."

"Wrong?!" snaps he.

You tense at his anger, yet even then, you caress his cheek gently, "I am to be married to Lord Dalton Greyjoy."

"And you would have me believe you want him?" Daemon quips, "that you do not want me?"

You push yourself up on your elbows. Tears begin to spill from the corner of your eyes, "Daem-"

"Why do you think I am doing this?" He pushes himself against your core.

You whimper at the contact. He is hard.

He grabs your wrists and pins them to your sides, "I do this for your sake, little girl. To save you from your prison."

You gulp and blink rapidly, your silver lashes lace with tears.

The slightest semblance of remorse flashes on your brother's face.

With your head lifted, you watch as Daemon brings his hands to your ankles instead. He rids you of your shoes and chucks them over his shoulder.

Slowly, he strips you naked until you are left in nothing but the jewelry and the stockings he bought you once before.

You cover your breasts, and he lets you while he kneads at your slightly parted thighs.

His eyes are glued on your womanhood, on the curls that don't see the light of day and the flesh that's never been touched by a man.

Daemon clenches his jaw as his fingers inspect the heat there. The two digits find molten wetness flooding your entrance. You make a breathless sound and squeeze your thighs, trying, with pointless effort, to stop him. His eyes flick to your face, the look of embarrassment, of shock, of pleasure visible to him. He debates forcing your legs.

He licks his you-coated fingers and tuts instead, "open."

You look at him, your Daemon, with a faint line between his brows. You close your mouth and lick your lips. Your hands find their way back to your breasts.

The sight is maddening, especially with how the jewel of your necklace looks between the squished mount of flesh.

"Open," he commands with less patience.

Daemon watches his darling princess part her legs for him. His trousers strain more than it did already.

He watches you closely and motions with a finger to your chest, "those too."

You do not immediately comply. In fact, you look at Daemon with pleading eyes. He raises his brows at your bratty demeanor, and shakes his head, "are you disobeying me?"

You see the threat in his eyes.

"Kessa nyke mazverdagon ao rūnagon aōha dīnagon?" Shall I make you remember your place?

You shake your head and pipe softly, "daor." No.

Finally, you reveal your breasts to him.

He smirks, "good girl."

Your brother kneads your delicate flesh and grinds his clothed groin against your weeping cunt. The sound you emit makes the feel of the clothes on his skin unbearable.

He grabs your hands and places them on his waistband. He looks down at you as he rids himself of his top. By the time his burning chest is free, you've gotten half the wits to undo his breeches.

His eyes don't leave you as he takes off his shoes.

You timidly pull his pants down, sitting up slightly as you do. You make a soft sound when his manhood flings free. Daemon shoves you back and does the rest himself.

"Daemon. I don't think-"

Your voice is crushed by the feel of his cock sliding into you. A rush of heat ripples through your body. He leans down and kisses your shoulder as you whine.

"Enough," he pants. He uses all his restraint not to fuck you dumb then and there. He grabs your thighs, pressing them into your chest. He can feel your tension. If he fucks you now, he could leave you unable to walk straight. But as sweet as that sounds, he doesn't actually want to hurt you, not that way.

Daemon sinks down to your jugular and kisses you there before he brings his hungry mouth to your breast. He sucks and nips, imagining it being heavy with milk for his babe, the babe he'd put into your belly.

The thought makes his moan and rut his hips.

You make a strained sound and your hands push at his arms. You call his name again, soft and shaky.

Daemon tries to ignore you, his palm coming to your lonely breast on the other side, but the persistent call of his name makes him sigh.

He lightly grazes your nipple before he releases your flesh. He trails kisses up your skin until he lands on your face, your face, which was now wet with salt.

"You need to relax. Mmm?" he coos, kissing your lips, "skoro syt gaomagon ao limagon? Hm?" Why do you cry?

You adjust beneath him, repositioning your thighs, digging your fingers into his nape. You whimper, "lēkia."

Daemon's belly burns. Look at you, crying for your older brother.

"Kessa, ñuha hāedar?" Yes, my little sister?

"Iksan zūgagon," you mutter, tears streaming down your temples. Your nails scratch up his scalp. I am afraid.

Daemon, selfish as he is, does not like the fact that leaves your lips. His brows furrow. He rubs your thighs in an attempt to comfort you. He kisses the corner of your lips, "hen lēkia?" Of your older brother?

You shake your head quickly, rubbing your thumb on his jaw.

His brows furrow tighter. His hold on your thigh tightens, "hen bona Āegenka Āzma?" Of that Iron Born?

You stay still. You take a moment before mumbling, "Viserys said I should marry him for my own good-"

"Fuck that cunt Viserys," he spits angrily.

Your lips quiver.

The anger in Daemon's chest dissipates as you rub the deep line between his brows. He props himself up, sinking a hand by the side of your head. He looks down at you.

"You cannot protect me forever," you whisper, finally relaxing beneath him.

Daemon watches as you lick your lips.

You gulp, "I am a Targaryen princess. I have duties to the realm, to my family."

"Your duty is with me," he grabs your hand, bringing it to his chest.

Your violet eyes sparkle as you examine his features. You tuck the long tresses that block his face behind his ear. Your belly ignites at the fierce beauty of your beloved brother.

"I burn for you," Daemon says, "I know that you burn for me."

"But Daemon-"

The gentle thrust of his hips stifle your words.

You whimper and instinctively mold your body against him. Your legs tighten around his torso as his thrusts grow more and more confident.

"Enough," Daemon repeats this time softer, head sinking back into the crook of your neck, "you have always belonged to me, and you know it."

Daemon kisses you, delighting in the gasp you give when he plays with your pearl. He muffles the sound of your mewls with his mouth.

"They insult us all by daring to mix dragon blood with fucking sea squid," he pants, "you were meant to carry my seed, be my bride."

You moan, feeling a foreign force in your belly.

"I will not let that sewer monster be the one to make you a woman," Daemon licks a stripe up your neck.

You tangle your fingers into the roots of his hair, "Daemon."

His nails scratch up your sides, "twas I that watched you blossom into womanhood, tis I that should be the one to take it."

Neither of you speak after he says this. You both simply whimper, wordlessly agreeing your bodies were made for each other.

The prince had not a single care in the world. He urges you to scream out to him with the flick of his pelvis. He didn't care if anyone could hear, neither did he care that anyone would see the viscious marks he was leaving all over your throat.

You were better than he had ever imagined, and he was determined to make you his. He was intent on emptying his stones, over and over again, until you could take no more, until you were too exhausted to leave, until your body had no other choice but to carry him a child.

And when he finally does spill into you, coming with a grunt and a soft, "you're mine," you, the virgin princess finally understand the fuss over sex, and reply to him with an, "I love you."

Daemon fucks you until his bed is soiled with a mix of your come. He fucks you until every minute movement from him makes you shiver and whine. He fucks you until your skin is marked with tender bites. He fucks you until you beg for respite, and then he keeps himself inside you after.

You were a worn little thing, and yet you managed the energy to still cling to him as you dozed off.

He kisses your temple and sleeps soundly, knowing he's done it, he's made his claim; you were his. That was irrefutable. Only a madman would deny him of you now. He basks in the pleasure of your body, and in the knowledge his baby sister so wholeheartedly trusted in him to let him do this.

One can only imagine, then, the mortified horror you felt when you were given to Lord Greyjoy anyway.

This was not part of the plan. You were meant to meet Daemon. He told you you were going to speak to the king together, and yet here your eldest brother was, ushering you towards your captor-husband to be.

"My princess," Dalton says, reaching a hand to you.

You stare at his glimmering eyes, finding nothing but malice and lust behind them. You turn to your brother for help. You do not want to touch this man.

Viserys offers you none and looks away. It hurts when he does so, especially since he does so with such apparent scorn. He smiles at Dalton, "greet your lord. You will soon be wed to him, sister."

You muster enough artificial interest to smile. Goosebumps form on your skin when he kisses the back of your hand.

He notices and chuckles, rubbing where he kissed, "such demureness. Do not be frightened of me, my dragon. I would not hurt such a pretty thing."

You clasp your hands together after he releases you.

"Not unless you ask," he adds, bursting into a laugh.

Neither you or Viserys return the amusement. In fact, the latter's face contorts at the distasteful joke. His nostrils flare, "you dare jest such uncouth things in front of your king?"

Dalton Greyjoy is unbothered, but stifles his laughter. He clears his throat and bows, "my apologies, my king. Tis the Ironborn in me. I cannot help my nature, much like you cannot help yours."

You feel light headed the entirety of this interaction. The room feels like it was closing in on you, and you kept glancing at the door, praying that your other brother free you from this torment.

He does not. He does not come. In fact, you do not see Daemon anywhere the entire day.

Dalton keeps you by his side, taking your arm in his as he makes you stroll him around the Red Keep. You do so, of course, no matter how strong the urge to run away and hide from him was. The entire time, Dalton recounts his stories of battle, his stories at sea, his stories of life. He's sincere enough, but you are not interested in the slightest.

"I think you'd enjoy the feel of sea salt against your skin, just as much you enjoy the whip of the clouds," he grins with genuine enthusiasm.

Any response you have is put out by his next words.

"I can introduce you to my salt-wives."

"Salt-wives?"

"Aye," he says proudly, "I'd say I have about twenty, but I cannot assure you its accuracy."

You are horrified. Finally, you have the gall to pull away, "what?"

Dalton chuckles, somehow amused, but his brows furrow, as if irritated, "we Ironborn keep salt wives in our ships, to give us comfort and warmth when the sea gets too rough. Is this princess so sheltered to not know this?"

You curdle when he reaches for your neck.

"You needn't be jealous. You'd be my one and only rock wife."

You scowl at his condescending tone, "I thought that was just a wives' tale."

He laughs. It is rich, amused, and foreboding. He shakes his head, "it's about as much of a wives' tale as your dragons are, princess."

Later that night, you weep at the king's feet, begging him not to marry you off to such a man.

Viserys does not hear it, and it is only then that Daemon finally appears.

When he does, it's as if the gods themselves breathed life into you. Quickly, you run into him and sob into his chest.

Daemon holds you tightly and glares at the king, "what have you done to her?"

Viserys scoffs. The dark room, illuminated only by the fireplace and a few lit candles, feels to him like it's darkened because of Daemon. He shifts where he sits, "I? I found her a husband."

Daemon's eye twitches, "you gave her to me! You said it just this morning."

You look up at Daemon, hopeful at the sound of his words.

"I said I would think about it once you report your patrol at the City Watch to me."

Daemon releases you to impose on his brother, "I kept your city clean from crimes and safe for the people."

"And where did you go after?" Viserys narrows his eyes.

You rub your arms as you watch your brothers argue.

Daemon does not respond.

Viserys turns to you, "tell your beloved sister where you went after your patrols."

Daemon does not move.

Your chest tightens at the silence, "... Daemon."

The said man opens his mouth, "I went to get a dri-"

"A whorehouse!" Viserys blurts, rising from his seat to glare at Daemon. He turns back to you, pushing past him, "I would know. I paid every whore in Fleabottom to seduce him."

Your heart leaps into your mouth, "w-what?"

Daemon is stunned.

"See now," Viserys is close enough to clutch your cheeks, "your beloved brother is a man like all the rest. No more is the dragon righteous than the kraken."

Your eyes begin to fog with tears. Your hands begin to tremble. Why was he doing this to you?

"Greyjoy is no less a dog than the rest of us. He at least, is honoring a tradition. Daemon honors only his cock."

You turn to Daemon, hoping to find this was not the case, but his expression says it all. You let a pained whimper, "you teach me so cruelly, brother."

"I teach you," he swipes your tears with his thumbs, "for your own good."

"You fucking--"

You scream in terror as Daemon lunges at Viserys. You reel back and watch as the two crash down to the floor, the younger of them finding the upper hand. They roughly struggle against each other.

You can no longer remain simply screaming when Daemon grabs Viserys by the collar and slams him repeatedly against the ground, especially not when Viserys claws at Daemon's face to get him off. You dash forward just as the guards order the prince to stop.

It only takes another scream from you, begging them to stop, for the kingsguards to burst into the room.

You grab Daemon's arm, and out of instinct, he swats you back, hand hitting your nose with rage powered force.

You shoot back into a kingsguard, feeling your face throb in pain. You swipe your philtrum and find red on your fingers.

It takes Viserys screaming your name for Daemon to stop and realize what he's done.

The impact of hitting the armored man makes your back twinge, but it does not hurt nearly as much as the back handed hit you received from your brother.

The kingsguard catches you and stands you upright. He quickly asks if you are alright, but doesn't wait for an answer because he's then shoving Daemon back, putting himself between him and you when he tries to come near.

Daemon glares in offence.

"Throw him in the fucking dungeon," Viserys spits out as he is helped up by another guard.

Daemon fights back, but is no match against three guards.

He screams your name as he is dragged off.

You clutch your face as he tells you he didn't mean to hit you. You face throbs as he tells you he loves you, and only you.

For once, you doubt his words.

Viserys comes to your side, placing a gentle hand in your shoulder. You watch as he commands a servant to get something for your injury.

He clutches your cheek that was struck and sighs, "if you wed the Red Kraken, you will strengthen our hold on the Iron Lands. Dalton Greyjoy is a formidable warrior. I couldn't think of a more capable man to safekeep the Jewel of the Realm."

As he stroked your hair, you realized that Viserys was right. It didn't matter who it was, all men were the same. When your septa warned you of men's depravity, you believed your brothers to be the exception. Now, you knew exactly why you were called-

"Little lamb," Viserys coos, "I only want what is best for all of us."

You were too naive to believe in good things.

And so you marry Dalton Greyjoy the next day.

The haste with which the wedding is prepared is to prevent you from changing your mind, you figured. That, and to keep Daemon in prison for the least amount of time.

Part of you wanted to visit him, but part of you wanted him to suffer. In the end, you realized you were too weak to behold your brother as a prisoner.

Daemon screams and bangs at his bars, demanding he be released. But the prison guards have handled worse and throw cold water at him to shut him up.

He knew by the time he was free, he would be too late to stop your marriage, but still, he meticulously planned what he would do the moment he was.

That night, after the wedding festivities were over, Dalton takes you to your room and makes you his wife.

"It's been a while since I've had a virgin," Dalton says, caressing your cheek, "don't worry, I will be gentle."

You want to scream, you want tofight him back, but you remember you're not a virgin, and fear paralyzes you. You mumble, "m-my dragon riding."

Dalton pushes back bour silver hair and kisses your shoulder.

You can't help but think of Daemon in this moment, but it makes you feel sick, and so you will him out of your head. You mumble again, "my dragon riding may taken my womanhood."

Dalton pulls away and stares at you for a moment.

"I- I was told as a child, it happened to many Targaryen princesses."

He pulls his hands, which were on your hips, away then shoves you down on your bed. He smirks as he undoes his clothing, "then I can be rough with you, aye?"

You quiver at his gaze.

He laughs, shaking his head, "didn't I say I would not hurt you? Unless under your request?"

You inch back as he crawls over. He grabs your ankle, then the other, causing you to panic. You instinctively kick him off, but instead of being deterred, he is excited.

"Sh, sh, sh," he hushes, "it will not be unpleasant, my dragon."

Your skin pricks with gooseflesh when he removes your shoes, your socks, then sneaks his hand up your skirt.

You whimper and turn away, finding you could no longer kick back when he seizes your knees.

"Please-"

"Shhh," he hushes, giving you the first solemn look he has this entire day he's been smug, "I've had much practice from my salt wives. You, my rock wife, will taste the fruits of my practice... as I taste you."

You gasp when he suddenly rips your underwear off.

"I swear to you, your body will enjoy it, even if your mind wants you to believe otherwise."

You muffle your mouth with your palm when you feel Dalton sink in between your thighs.

He was right.

The entire time he touches you, it feels like your skin was being scorched. Your heart was not in it, but your body twisted in pleasure. You hated that you longed for Daemon, even after the fact you were not enough for him; he was still the only one you, and this moment proved it.

You were brought to tears at how pathetic it was. Tears streamed as you reached your peak, one of the many you receive from your... husband.

He handled you with carnal instinct, just as Daemon did, but unlike him, Dalton did not kiss your tears. In fact, he did not kiss your face once. It is you that initiates such a thing, amidst the throes of your lewd pleasure. He grabs your jaw when your lips connect, and quickly releases his load into you after.

Your peak is cut short because he pulls out just when you reach it.

You watch as he rolls over and goes to sleep without another word.

The next morning, the servants call you Princess Greyjoy and it haunts you.

"No need to look so sullen, wife," you hear over your shoulder.

If the cold from the early morning wasn't enough to make you shiver, the kiss on your shoulder was.

The ship rocks as you tear your gaze away from King's Landing, King's Landing that looked so tiny now from where you stood. A sea of tears laid between you and the home that will never be yours again. You turn to Dalton. He leans his elbows on the edge of the ship and looks up at you, "we can do many things to liven your mood."

You watch him as he rubs your hips. Your stomach curdles but you manage to offer a smile, "I... am flattered, but I do not want to distract the captain of this ship."

Dalton chuckles and straightens up, "trust me. The crew would appreciate it if you did."

You squeak when he yanks you into him.

"Right boys?!" he calls loudly, "shall I make a salt wife out of my rock wife?!"

The crew cheers and it makes your skin burn in mortification.

The next thing you know, you are thrown over his shoulder. He slaps your ass and takes you to his quarters. The crew laughs as he does.

You helplessly grunt when he drops you on his bed-- your shared bed. You silently peer up at him as he stares at you. You are relieved he paces across the room, towards his table. He grabs something and chucks it at you. You flinch but manage to catch it.

He sits on the table as you inspect the pouch. You open it, finding herbs inside.

"I heard you've been drinking that," he says.

You look up at him.

"Haven't you?" he asks.

You smell it and wretch. It smells exactly like-

"Moon tea," Dalton says, making your blood run cold, "for the bastard in your belly.*

You are frozen in your spot. Your stomach drops when he stands and walks over. He grabs your chin. It is not harsh, but it strikes fear in you anyway.

"I asked you a question, wife."

You open your mouth, but no words come out.

"HAVE YOU BEEN TAKING THE FUCKING TEA OR NOT?" he screams, grabbing your neck.

Your hands fly to his grip. Your fingers attempt to pry him away.

You wheeze when he squeezes you. Your flail your legs and try to kick him off. You can't. Just as your vision begins to go dark, he releases you. You fall onto the bed and frantically try to catch your breath. You cough and hear him smash things around the room.

And so you behold the man who said he would not hurt you unless you asked him, brutalize the furniture.

You think your chances are better in the sea rather than on this boat. You slowly maneuver towards the door while he is distracted. Just as you are about to sprint, he grabs you and throws you back down on his bed.

"You stupid slut!" he screams, "you think you can run?!

You try to scream for help, but the pain in your throat when you try to stops you. Not a second later, you scream anyway.

He slaps you across the face, promptly silencing you. The sting is ten times worse than what Daemon did.

"I was promised a Targaryen princess, not some whore of a dragon!" he screams, kicking the chair by his desk across the room.

You feel lightheaded. You see double.

He laughs angrily, shaking his head, "dragon riding, my arse."

Indistinguishable sounds leave your lips.

Your heart drops as he storms over.

"Who's the father of your bastard child?!"

"ANSWER ME!" he demands, grabbing your shoulders, dragging you to your feet. Your head recoils at the sheer force of it. You take a moment to steady your head.

Your eyes search Dalton's enraged features, hoping to chance upon a sliver of compassion... in vain. The sound that leaves your mouth is response to the bruising squeeze of your arms. You cannot help but whimper as tears stream down your cheeks, "you're hurting me."

He is further angered by this. He gives you a powerful shake. Your head lashes back again and you scream.

"Give me a name!" erupts the lord.

You no longer have it in you to hold your tongue, and so you confess, "Daemon!"

Dalton releases you. He is repulsed, "your brother?" He scoffs, "you revolting, little worm," he slaps you again, making you lose your balance.

Before you crash into anything, he grabs you and keeps you upright. You can feel your cheek and lips swell at his assault. You taste iron on your lips.

"And here they had me believing you were some meek lamb," he laughs dryly, brushing your hair back, "you're nothing but a whore, grown from perversion and abomination."

Your expression hardens. You glare at him and rebut, though your head was pounding, "and your sea rituals are more righteous than my family traditions?"

Without another word, Dalton shoves you back, propelling you into his desk. Your skull crashes against the edge with a horrendous thud.

You fall limp onto the floor. Dalton cares little if you were dead or unconscious. He walks out of the room right before he can witness the red staining your white hair.

Dalton is no fool. He knows better than to disfigure a Targaryen princess.

He walks towards the wheel of the ship and continues the course to what his crew believed to be a shortcut to home. In truth, he was bringing the ship to its doom, to face you with with a trail of the sea.

He would crash the ship into a chokehold of rocks, and if you survived, if he found your floating body, he would keep you, as you proved your resilience. But if you were swallowed into the depths, if he was unable to find you in the debris, he would praise the Drowned god for your riddance.

The same want with his crew.

Of course, there was a bit of this that felt like suicide, but he knew he was too vengeful to die, so he knew he had nothing to fear.

When the Greyjoy ship finally reached the rocky pass, Dalton was promptly warned of the danger by his lookout, who he obviously ignored.

He ordered to hoist the sails, and, blindly, the crew followed, even through apparent worry.

It didn't take very long after for the ship to crash into the cliffs.

The crew clamors. They scream and panic, turning to their captain that could not care less. He pretends to steer them to safety, but he actually slammed them further into their demise.

The deck begins to crumble. The mast snaps. The sails break off. Dalton calls to abandon ship.

The crew don't need any more convincing.

One by one, each man for their own, they try to escape with their life.

By the time Dalton jumps off the ship, the thing is half submerged in the water, crumbs of it on the side of a rock.

It was pure chaos.

Dalton swims far enough from the destruction, and knows his god smiled upon him and his decision when he sees a large wooden slab he can climb on.

He does just that and looks out to his crew, helping the ones that manage to swim over, commanding the others calling for help to simply swim or drown.

He looks around, trying to make out a body of a woman, a blob of a dress, a head of silver hair in the aftermath.

"My wife," he screams, "has anyone seen my wife?!"

He wasn't concerned, of course. He just wanted to know his fate as a husband, but this did make for a good alibi.

His surviving men look and swim around for you. They find no trance.

Dalton presses his lips, "little dragon couldn't fly away."

They take refuge on a cliff. Lord Greyjoy tells his crew not to bitch and panic because they will surely be found by a passing ship soon enough.

He had planned this shipwreck after all.

By the time Dalton and his remaining men were saved, a flash of red circled in the setting sky, hovering over the massive rock that held the shipwreck that bore the sigil of Greyjoy.

Caraxes screeches as his rider commands him to get closer to the scene. The dragon hesitates but eventually lands on the cliff. Waves crash upon the area, causing the beast to bleat when he is wet.

Daemon is frantic as he gazes upon the destruction. He is distressed unlike he's ever been. His voice is distinctly desperate and hysterical. He screams out your name, even though it was nothing against the roar of the splashing waves.

He heaves heavily as he erratically decides to dismount and jump into the water.

As he wades, he tries to convince himself that what he was doing was for naught-- perhaps you were not here to begin with. But the gut feeling was overwhelming; it was sickening.

He tries to believe that bottom feeder, Greyjoy, saved you before his ship crumbled. He tries to convince himself that cunt's lust for you was enough reason to keep you alive.

But he remembers the servant he threatened with a knife whilst demanding to know which route your ship would take. He thinks of how he almost shit himself while confesssing to Daemon that Greyjoy planned to pass through a rocky region as a shortcut. But Daemon's flown over that area, and knew it was out of the way to the Iron Islands.

After squeezing out what's left from that servant, Daemon's face falls when he mentions that rusted octopus had an argument with a servant girl that came to serve the princess a cup of tea.

Daemon was no fool. Dalton was a butish barbarian. If he found out you were drinking Moon Tea, he would do his worst on you for blemishing his pride.

And so he swam. Daemon swam, dove down, and searched for your body until he had to stop because Caraxes was getting restless. He commanded him to calm down, but he could only do it so many times until he, himself, was the same.

He eventually gets back on Caraxes. Daemon can't bring himself to leave just yet however, and finds himself praying to whatever god out there to return his love back to him.

Caraxes circles the area one last time before heading off. For some reason, Daemon feels the urge to check underneath a large slab of shattered wood. He commands his mount to lift it, and the dragon screeches as he does what he can with his hind legs.

The sound that leaves the prince's mouth is what could only be described as pure anguish.

A head of silver hair floats up and wafts in the water along with a tattered dress. Your body garnered a horrid tone of grey and you were missing your shoes.

Daemon cannot contain the tears that gush out of his eyes.

Caraxes carries your body in his claws all the way to the Keep.

The way in which he commands his ride to set your body down is frantic and incredibly detailed. Part of him realizes Caraxes probably recognized you, considering the way he laid on his belly and sniffed you as Daemon buckled to his knees and lamented over your frigid body.

He speaks to you in High Valyrian. His salty tears drip on your salt water drowned body. He promises he will never trick you, never argue with you, and never make you cry ever again if only you open your violet eyes.

He rocks back and forth with you in his arms, unsure which of you he was soothing by doing this.

He swears he will turn the sea red with blood and burn the whole Iron Islands to avenge you.

He is incredibly uncomfortable of the chill of your skin. He shakes his head, telling you dragons must not be kept cold. He kisses your face in an attempt to warm it up. He recounts a time where you accidentally spilled candle wax on him, burning his skin, and tells you that you still need to make up for your offence. He tells you he will forgive you if you simply hold him back.

Viserys had to account for three dragons by the time he found out what was happening, one was Daemon, whose grief morphed into murderous spite. He threatened to slay anyone who wanted to take you from him. Not again. Another was Caraxes, who refused to leave his heartbroken rider's side. The last was your dragon, who felt the loss of your connection, and went into a rabid state mourning.

It takes 5 people to secure your dragon in the pit, 5 people to subdue Caraxes, and 3 people to separate Daemon from your corpse.

The king takes a moment to clutch your hand. His face flinches. Where once your hand was so warm, no warmth now remained. He steps back and watches the maesters cover your body and take you away.

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your-stranger-halfblood-things · 2 months

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Neil definitely took Todd's messed up poems out of the trash and hid them under his mattress after reading them because they were a treasure to him. He didn't mention them to anyone and swore that he'd take the "bad" poems home with him over the summer.

They weren't bad, not in his eyes. How could they be? Todd made them. Anything Todd made was absolutely amazing. So that's why he kept them. And when Todd was in the bathroom or down the hall, Neil would take these poems out and read them.

He loved every single one of them. He loved seeing Todd's work before Todd could perfect it. It was like seeing a new side of him. It made him love the other boy even more.

When Neil died, Todd found Neil's bed stripped. He had still not accepted his friend's death, but it didn't matter because no asked him, it already was sealed.

The curious thing though, was that when the bed was stripped, Neil's collection of Todd's poetry was found and thrown away in the same trash where he originally found it. And when Todd went to throw away another piece he'd failed at making, he saw his own crumpled work from months before staring back at him.

He was confused. He had thrown those out months ago, but what was it doing here? He threw them out because they were terrible and his work was worth nothing, not even a penny. If Neil was here, he'd tell him otherwise. If Neil was here, he'd be holding up the papers before Todd could throw them out and say something along the lines of "Todd, this is amazing. You are amazing! Your work, it's fabulous! I want to perform it some day" but then Todd would still throw it out.

Had Neil kept them? Every mistake he made? Every crumpled up price of trash?

Todd fell to his knees. Neil, the one person with true belief in him, was dead. If only he listened to Neil, if he saved his work and shared it. If he had talked to Neil more and helped him-

Todd was sobbing and pulling at his hair, gagging on his own spit. He tried muttering an apology, he wasn't sure if it was to his old work or Neil's ghost, but either way, he was blabbering his sorries.

If they had had more time, they could have talked about this, but they can't. Neil is dead. Gone. Never coming back. So no, they couldn't talk about this.

Instead, Todd would stay a crying mess, sobbing sorries until Charlie found him and helped him up.

#woahhh more angst?? who would've guessed #anderperry angst #anderperry #dead poets society #dead poets fandom #dps fandom #dps #dead poets fanfic #dps fic #todd and neil #todd anderson #todd x neil #neil perry #neil x todd #neil and todd #charlie dalton #nuwanda #poetry

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whumpypepsigal · 6 months

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Road House (2024): “I’m sorry.”

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percesdead · 4 months

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me, crying over my own writing: this guy's a fucking bitch

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angstylittleguy · 3 months

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Broken

The first time Dalton shrinks in front of Bennett. The experience leaves him injured and mistrusting of Bennett, who doesn't quite understand what he's done wrong.

tw: anxiety, uncomfortable touching

character context: Dalton is a size-shifter whose height is affected by his emotions. Bennett frequently gets stuck in time loops and the only way to get the loop to end is for him to survive the day.

word count: 2.1k

-> In Which Everything Goes Wonderfully Wrong masterpost link: Here

-> character introductions and moodboards: Here

Dalton felt an itch begin to spread across his skin. It started on his chest and it felt like his heart was being squeezed. He took in a sharp breath, gaining the attention of Bennett. His eyes snapped over to him.

“You okay?”

The itch was spreading, moving down his arms and his legs. Not now, not now, Dalton thought, his heartbeat spiking. He felt like he couldn’t catch his breath.

Bennett was staring at him with concern, briefly glancing around the library to see if anyone else had noticed his panic. Dalton’s hands were on both sides of his head and he was bent over the table.

He had to focus. Swallow down the itch. This could not happen right now, not in a crowded place like this. Not in front of Bennett.

Bennett reached a hand out to him. “Dude, what’s going on? Are you alright?”

The unexpected touch on Dalton’s arm pulled him out of his concentration, and he felt himself drop down a couple of inches. Once it started, there was no containing the shift in size. Without a word, Dalton stood from the table and rushed to the nearest aisle of bookshelves.

It was just his luck, Dalton thought. The university library was a horrible place for him shrink down. What was worse, was that it was happening in front of Bennett. He had only just met the guy a couple days ago, and he was one of the only two people that knew about his abilities. Rory had left them alone for just a measly few minutes to go and find a book she needed, and now she wouldn’t be around while Dalton was small and unprotected.

He reached an isolated corner in the back of the library—just in time, too—and Dalton felt the world shift before his eyes as his stomach dropped. He fell to his knees in an attempt to lessen the temporary vertigo. With labored breaths, Dalton looked up, seeing the shelves tower high above his head. He was about half the height of a regular-sized novel right now, and he was out in the open for anyone to see. Anxiety gripped at his throat.

Thundering footsteps caught his attention, and without a moment’s hesitation, he sprinted to the nearest bookshelf in an effort to conceal himself.

Bennett slowly came down the aisle. “Dalton?” he called, “Where’d you go?”

Dalton shouldn’t say anything. He shouldn’t reveal his hiding space. He’d never been around Bennett small. He would be completely at his mercy. He had no idea how Bennett would react.

Then again, Dalton was in the middle of a public library at his university. Anybody could find him, and when he was this vulnerable there would be nothing he could do if they decided to do anything to him.

His safest option would be with Bennett, no matter how unfamiliar that territory is.

Dalton peeked his head out from his hiding place. “I—I’m here,” he called. He hated how his voice trembled.

Bennett’s eyes shot down to the ground, and Dalton watched in anxiety-riddled silence as he waited for Bennett to spot him.

He hated the fascination that took over Bennett’s features when their eyes locked. Dalton couldn’t help but to take a couple of steps back as Bennett lowered himself to the floor.

“Holy shit!” A smile crept onto Bennett’s face. “You’re so little.”

Dalton flinched at the volume of his voice, stumbling back a couple more steps. He was nearly totally concealed by the shadows of the bookshelf, and frankly, he felt much safer in there. Even if Bennett hadn’t done anything, he couldn’t help that his flight instinct was screaming at him to run.

“Keep your voice down,” Dalton told him, his own voice hushed.

“What was that?” Bennett asked, leaning forwards. “I can hardly hear you.”

He was close. He was too close. “Step back,” Dalton said, voice brittle. He held out a hand as if that would do anything.

Dalton couldn’t pinpoint the expression that painted Bennett’s face at his words, but he didn’t like the way his eyes softened. “Hey, man,” Bennett said, “it’s just me.”

Yeah, no shit. Dalton did not know Bennett. They had only just met. He had no idea how Bennett would act around him at this size. “I need you to go get Rory,” Dalton told him.

“Why? What’s she going to do that I can’t?”

She would know how Dalton was feeling. Her abilities made sure of that. And even though he would never wish this kind of anxiety on his worst enemy, having someone know exactly what was going through his mind would be better at handling him small compared to someone that Dalton only knew as… sporadic.

“No—nothing,” Dalton responded, too stressed to argue. “Just, we need to get out of here. Like, right now.”

“Okay,” Bennett nodded. “I can handle that.”

He reached out a hand and scooped Dalton into a fist.

The claustrophobia was immediate. Dalton felt like he was being squeezed—no, he was being squeezed—and the air was quickly stolen from his lungs. His ribs felt like they were going to shatter. He was going to tell Bennett that he was holding him too tight, but his world was lurched forwards as they took a giant step forward.

Dalton wanted to yell, wanted to demand that Bennett put him back down because he regretted his request to leave immediately, but the fear of being heard (or worse, seen) by others made him keep his mouth shut.

“I’m gonna put you in my hoodie pocket,” Bennett said as they approached the table they had been working at. “So, I can grab our stuff.”

Without warning he was shoved into his front hoodie pocket. Dalton fought an unmanly yelp as he scrambled for purchase in the fabric.

It was hot, it was tight, it was moving, and there was nothing Dalton could do about it. Where was Bennett taking him? Was he going to tell Rory what was happening? Or would Dalton be stuck with Bennett alone until he was able to grow to his normal size?

The walk felt much too long, or much to short, Dalton couldn’t decide. Bennett’s calloused hands found their way around him again, and Dalton was forced back out into the open. His head spun as Bennett adjusted him right-side up, and Dalton was then—rather carelessly—dropped onto a hard surface. He hit hard, not prepared for the drop, and fell on his side, a hard ough! escaping his lips on impact. He propped himself up on one elbow as he took in his surroundings, afraid to find out where Bennett had taken him.

He was in a dorm room, and Dalton could only guess it was Bennett’s. It was messy—clothes scattered on the floor, loose papers sprawled across the surface of the desk—and as he looked around it seemed that Bennett caught on to what he was thinking.

“Uh, sorry about the mess.” He began to pick up his clothes and throw them into his wardrobe. “I wasn’t really expecting company.”

Dalton, finally free from his fabric prison, took this moment to catch his breath. Not being Bennett’s center of attention and being high off the floor was a lot better than what had happened to him so far.

He couldn’t bring himself to stand just yet. His stomach was still lurching from the jostling movements and his legs were weak with anxiety. Dalton watched Bennett shove his clothing into his wardrobe with enough force to snap Dalton in half at this size if Bennett felt like it. He needed to get up, needed to put himself somewhere he felt a little safer.

Dalton sat up, the pain around his ribs almost immediate. They felt bruised—maybe worse—and Dalton knew instantly that coming here was a bad idea. He should have known that Bennett was just too curious about his abilities, and that nothing good could come from this little unwanted adventure.

Bennett sat down at his desk, towering over Dalton’s pitiful form.

“So, now what?” Bennett asked, harshly propping his elbow up on the desk and cradling his chin in his hand. “How do we make you big again?”

Dalton swallowed thickly as he looked up at Bennett, unable to hold eye contact any longer before he forced his head to look back down. “Time,” he choked out.

Bennett hummed, the fingers of his free hand appearing out of nowhere and grabbing hold of one of Dalton’s arms. His forearm was pinched between two fingers, squeezed just a little too tight. He was then forced to turn his arm over as Bennett examined his too-small limb. “What are you doing?” Dalton asked him, forcing his voice not to tremble.

“Just looking at you,” Bennett answered. “You’re just so small it’s actually insane.”

There was a lump in Dalton’s throat. “Please—please let go.”

“Relax, dude. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

It was too late for that, Dalton wanted to say. But he kept his mouth shut and let Bennett continue to gawk at him. He just prayed that he got bored soon.

“Your hands are so tiny,” Bennett said. “They’re like the size of my fingertip.”

His fingers moved down the length of Dalton’s arm, pinching his hand as he marveled at Dalton’s size. Bennett chuckled. “I can’t help but to laugh,” Bennett told him, “this is just so crazy.”

He then yanked on his arm and Dalton lurched forward. His ribs screamed with pain and without a hand to catch himself with, Dalton rolled sideways onto his shoulder. He hit the surface of the desk with an oof.

“Sorry, man.” Bennett was still chuckling, oblivious to Dalton’s discomfort. “I just…” His voice trailed off. “Wow.”

With each prod and poke and unintentional careless action, Dalton felt more and more broken. Tears began to well in his eyes—tears that Bennett didn’t notice due to his curiosity that overpowered his sensitivity—and a sob caught in his throat.

Dalton bit his lip, struggling with the internal conflict of wanting Bennett to understand and fearing his own vulnerability. Fear left him frozen where he fell, head and shoulder pressed against the hard surface of the desk. Bennett’s touch never relinquished.

As Bennett’s finger lingered on his side, Dalton’s breath hitched, the ache in his ribs intensifying. He wanted to speak up, to tell Bennett to be more careful, but fear held his tongue.

A finger ran down the length of Dalton’s side with the intention to forcefully lift him from his spot on the desk. Finally, a single tear rolled down Dalton’s cheek. A choked sob escaped through his lips, and Bennett’s touch froze in its place.

Dalton swallowed hard, his whole-body tensing as Bennett’s finger pressed against his bruised ribs again. “Bennett, please,” Dalton managed to choke out, his voice trembling.

Bennett paused, noticing the fear in Dalton’s eyes. “Oh,” he said quickly, withdrawing his hand. “Did I hurt you?”

Dalton nodded silently, his chest tight with anxiety.

“I—I’m sorry.” Bennett was cupping his hands together, holding them close to his chest. “I didn’t realize.”

Dalton didn’t move for a few long moments. He allowed himself to cry. To grieve for a loss of normalcy that he hadn’t realized he lost. He waited for the stinging sensation in his ribs to mellow out enough for him to sit up, to look at Bennett with red, tear-stained eyes and demand that he go and get Rory so this nightmare can come to an end.

Bennett was already crying. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I wasn’t thinking and—”

“That’s the problem,” Dalton replied bitterly, his voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t think.”

A silence settled between them, thick and heavy with unspoken words.

“I’m so sorry, Dalton,” Bennett finally said softly, his voice tinged with regret. “I’ll try to do better. Next time—”

“There is no next time,” Dalton interrupted. “Please, just call Rory.”

Without a word, Bennett turned away from the desk. He dialed a number on his phone and put it to his ear.

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wilsons-three-legged-siamese · 5 months

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MY DEAD POETS SOCIETY PROMPTS <3

• what if Todd punched Cameron, not Charlie?

• after Todd's embarrassment from Keating, Neil has to comfort him

• Meeks convinces Charlie to dance with him on the roof

• Neil is extremely clumsy and ends up breaking his wrist three times in 3 months

• Neil and Todd fall in love, but to their delight, Nolan finds them out

• The Dead Poets have a reunion, but they find out Neil and Todd/Charlie and Meeks/Meeks and Pitts/Charlie and Knox have a child

• Meeks has to tell Charlie he's asexual, after having sex for 4 months

• Cameron steals Meeks' glasses

• Meeks and Cameron go through Neil's laptop, just to find google Docs filled with fan fiction about everyone

If you write these and publish, no credits needed, just tag me because I wanna read them- (I don't have an AO3 account so uhhh..)

#dead poets society #neil perry #todd anderson #anderperry #charlie dalton #steven meeks #gerard pitts #john keating #knox overstreet #vermont #poetry #angst #fluff #what am i doin with my life

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lambertdiary · 1 year

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can I have a dalton x reader where he has a nightmare that the lipstick demon has her trapped in the further and is either killing or torturing her and dalton wakes up from it, the reader isn’t in the bed with him so he panics and walks to her dorm knowing he won’t be able to sleep unless he knows she’s safe and when she opens the door to him he breaks down crying and she comforts him, let’s him stay over as well

A/N: omg i was so excited to write this as soon as a read it. thank you for your request!! please let me know what you think, feedback is always appreciated.

Word count: 1.7k+

Warnings: established relationship, angst, The Further, mentions of anxiety, mentions of death, language, fluffy/comforting ending

MASTERLIST ✩ SEND ME A REQUEST

Nightmares

It was pitch black outside and Dalton was washing his face, currently recovering from a nightmare. They are a part of him and he’s used to them by now, but lately they have been way more frequent… and terrifying. The worst part was not knowing if these ‘nightmares’ were actually nightmares or if his soul was wandering around in a different realm, leaving his body unguarded.

He unusually kept stuff like this to himself though, when he was younger he did it cause he didn’t think adults would understand or even believe him, but now it was just easier to stay silent rather than have people worry or feel sorry for him.

He looked at the time. It was 11:30 PM, meaning he still had a lot of time to sleep. ‘Good’, he thought, walking back to his dorm and wrapping himself around the sheets once he found the comfort of his bed. It didn’t take long for him to fall back asleep, almost having a peaceful night until a cold breeze went through his body, sending chills down his spine. He opened his eyes thinking was still in bed, but the pure darkness surrounding him proved him wrong.

He started to sweat, looking around him trying to decipher if this was another one of his bad dreams, praying it was. But this time, he had a bad feeling.

He closed his eyes in an attempt to wake up, but when he felt something tug the hem of his sweatpants he opened them again and tried to escape, failing and falling on his back. Luckily he spotted a bright light appear next to him, so he grabbed the lamp and brought it closer to the entity, making it crawl away.

Dalton could feel every emotion turn into fear, making it really hard for him to think properly. His hands were shaking and the light wasn’t doing a very good job at making things less scary, everything around him was still… nothing. But whatever his situation was he knew he had to find a way out.

He felt his feet getting heavier with every step and his typically anxious self feeling worse than ever.

He was about to find the way back to his body, having memorized most of the paths by now, but a loud scream stopped him. A scream he was terrified to admit he knew who it was from. He froze there, almost as if he was trying to convince himself that none of it was real and his mind was playing dirty tricks on him. But there it was again, this time a lot louder and the terror more evident.

He knew exactly where it was coming from too. Suddenly a red door appeared before him. Dalton approached it slowly, carefully. It has been a while since the last time he saw said door but the memories that came with it lingered in his mind constantly. He forced the door open and he heard loud stomps coming from somewhere. His heart was racing and his breathing was complicated. He didn’t wanna find out what he knew he was about to but if his suspicions were right, then he had to do something and it had to be quick.

When he fully entered the lair he examined every corner of it, eventually getting to a dark space, darker than every other part of the room. But thanks to the weak blaze of a candle he was able to see someone inside a cage.

“Y/N!” He screamed. But before he could get to her, he felt a hand grab him by his ankle, making him fall and dragging him away and back to the door. He grabbed onto something on time, stopping him from being expelled from the wicked hole.

Dalton waited for the hand to let go of him, eventually standing up but for some reason he was unable to move. Then for a moment everything was calm, almost too calm. No eerie sounds coming from anywhere, no wails from trapped souls and no demons in sight. But after a while, he heard a song echo through the demonic cave. That damn song.

Dreadful memories started to flood his mind when he saw the demon that has been stalking him his entire life. He was holding big heavy chains as he walked to the corner where his girlfriend was trapped. He wanted to run and save her, but a force was still keeping him there.

Once he lost sight of it, he struggled to break free from whatever was forcing him to remain motionless, trying to call out her name but his voice vanished thanks to the anxiety that overtook him. After a few more tries he started moving again, and as he got closer he felt like his heart was about to explode out of his chest. With every step everything got louder, including Y/N’s screams.

At the last turn he spotted both of them. A cold, tight knot formed in his gut as he recognized what was happening. The Red-Faced entity was pinning her down as he chained her to the cage, his grasp so hard he could see wounds form on her skin. His shaky breath must have alerted him of his presence, and as soon as he made eye contact with it he could see a devilish smile form on his face. His long and filthy hands began to move to her neck, positioning there and applying an inhumane force that could kill her within seconds “Y/N!”

He woke up abruptly, gasping loudly as he tried to steady his breathing. He grabbed his phone and checked the time again. 3 AM. He started calling Y/N and sending her a million messages, all of them went unanswered. On a normal night he would understand, he didn’t expect his girlfriend to pick up at 3 AM, but right now he needed her to answer. He needed to know she was in her room, safe and sound.

Quickly, he put on a hoodie and shoes, he ran out of his dorm as fast as he could, still trying to get a hold of her over the phone. Nothing.

“Fuck” He muttered to himself.

Once he finally entered the building he ran up the stairs not having time to wait for the elevator, sprinting through the hallways until he was standing outside of her door. He was desperate to know if she was okay, but at the same time he didn’t wanna sound insane and creepy, so he opted for not so loud knocks, it was 3 AM after all.

But nothing was happening. He kept trying but his plan wasn’t working “Y/N?” He softly called out her name. Getting desperate, he began to knock louder and louder. Gradually turning into something he was sure the entire building could hear.

At this point, he was knocking so hard he thought he broke one of his fingers but that was the least of his worries. He saw the door open, but it wasn’t Y/N “Where is she?”

“What the fuck?” Annie (Y/N’s roommate) asked, confused and absolutely furious “Do you know the time?” She was raising her voice, which Dalton understood completely, but he was angry that she didn’t understand his reasons.

“Who is it, Annie?” The only voice he wanted to hear came from inside, and Dalton could feel the life coming back to his body.

“Oh my god, Y/N, you’re okay” He ran inside and practically jumped on her bed, hugging her and kissing her face.

“Yeah I’m okay, are you okay?” She sounded tired, but worried “Dalton?”

“I’m sorry” He broke down crying. He let out all of the tears he had been holding from the moment he woke up.

“Dalton stop, talk to me” She grabbed the sides of his face forcing him to look at her, glancing at the tears on his eyes. She was starting to panic now “Oh my god, Dalton, you’re shaking”

“I will never let anything bad happen to you”

“Dalton, please tell me what’s happening. You’re scaring me”

“Listen, I understand this is a hard time for you guys but you can’t have your psycho boyfriend come pounding on the door at fucking 3 AM, I have a big test in the morning” Annie tried really hard to hold back her insults. She liked Y/N, they were good friends but no amount of friendship could excuse this.

“I’m sorry, Annie” Y/N responded, still holding Dalton’s head and brushing his tears away.

“Whatever, I’m going upstairs” She responded annoyedly, dragging her blanket across the floor as she exited the dorm.

Once they were alone, Y/N returned her attention to his boyfriend “Dalton-”

“I had a nightmare that you… that you were trapped and I couldn’t save you” He was still crying, which made it difficult for Y/N to fully understand what he was saying.

“Dalton, look at me, breathe for me?” She placed a hand on his chest, where his heart was, and started breathing slowly, inhaling and exhaling, waiting for him to do it with her.

Dalton mirrored her and finally began to calm down, his breath was steadier and his heartbeats went back to normal “I had a nightmare, I saw you trapped in The Further and I tried to save you but it was too late-” She would never tell him that, but she was freaked out by the words that were coming out of his mouth. She knew none of it was real but knowing these things truly exist and something like that could potentially happen made her tremble.

“Baby, I’m okay” She interrupted him, hugging him tightly and slowly caressing his back in an attempt to comfort him “It was just a bad dream, okay?”

“I know but it felt too real, I had to make sure you were okay”

“Well, I am, don’t worry Dalton, it’s over now” He held her for a while, the fear leaving his body and calmness replacing it.

“Wanna stay with me tonight? Wanna cuddle?” He nodded and waited for his girlfriend to hold him. He held her tight as if someone was trying to rip her away from him. Scared that something like that might happen.

“I’m sorry I woke you up” Y/N hummed in response, letting him know it was okay “I’m sorry Annie is mad at you”

She chuckled “I’m pretty sure you are the one she’s mad at”

“I can live with it"

#dalton lambert #dalton lambert x reader #dalton lambert fluff #dalton lambert angst #dalton lambert fic #dalton lambert imagine #insidious #insidious the red door #dalton lambert imagines #ty simpkins #insidious 5 #dalton lambert smut

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neilperryzlefttit · 3 months

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You've got a nine-five

So I'll take the night shift

#bat babbles #knarlie #knarlie angst nfdjjd #dead poets society #dps #charlie dalton #knox overstreet

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omgrachwrites · 11 months

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In Another Life - Dalton Lambert

Pairing: Dalton Lambert x Reader

Summary: You confess your feelings to Dalton, the only problem? He can't return them.

Warnings: tiny bit of fluff, angst, unrequited love :(

A/N: Just a short lil something! I'm so sorry I've been MIA I've been so ill but I'm better now! I hope you guys enjoy this, I love you all! xxx

You had been acting weird lately and you knew that Dalton was starting to get worried about you, you saw the worried looks he constantly threw your way. He’d even started talking to you almost as if he was trying not to spook you. You knew it wasn’t fair to keep such a big secret from him but if you told him it would ruin everything.

One day, the both of you were studying in his room when he finally spoke up, “Y/N?” he started, taking your hand in his, “what’s wrong?”

“Huh?” you looked up at his gorgeous worried face. You stared blankly at him for a couple of moments before you realised what he’d asked, “it’s nothing, I’m fine,” you were lying through your teeth.

Dalton just stared at you, a little crease forming in between his eyebrows as he frowned at you. You felt a twinge of guilt as you looked at his concerned face, “Y/N, I know you too well,” he paused, “I know something is bothering you.”

You sighed as you shook your head, “can’t you just drop it? I don’t want to talk about it.”

“No, Y/N. I won’t just drop it, not when you’re clearly not okay,” he sighed, “we’re friends aren’t we?” he trailed off, looking at you with those big blue eyes that made you melt.

“Of course we are.”

Dalton nodded, “so, are you saying that you can’t trust me with your problems?”

You looked anywhere but him as you replied, “it’s just something I need to deal with on my own.”

He looked at you sadly as he linked his fingers through yours and squeezed your hand, “you never have to deal with your problems on your own. I’m here for you, Y/N.”

You looked up at him, his soft eyes swirling with endless shades of blue, a small smile spread across his face as his thumb soothingly rubbed against your knuckles. You had to tell him, you couldn’t lie to him for much longer. It wasn’t fair. You fiddled with a loose thread on your jeans as Dalton patiently waited for you to open up to him.

Finally, it seemed as though his patience was wearing thin, “Y/N, please. Tell me what’s wrong.”

You were terrified, “if I tell you, I’ll lose you,” you whispered.

Dalton shook his head, his voice still gentle, “you’re never going to lose me, you’re my best friend.”

“I’m in love with you,” you said it quickly before you had time to second guess yourself.

Dalton froze and you instantly knew that you had made a mistake as he tried to process your words, “you’re in love with me?” he asked.

You nodded, your heart quickly sinking as you tried to explain yourself, “I know you don’t feel the same and it’s fine, I just thought you should know,” you said as if he hadn’t just forced it out of you. You were praying to every God in existence that he felt the same but when his face dropped you knew you had your answer.

You didn’t want to hear his reply but you knew you had to hear him out so you braced yourself. You braced yourself for the heartbreak that was about to come.

“Y/N,” he started, taking both of your hands, “you know I care about you, you’re my best friend. You know how special you are to me but um,” he stuttered as he looked at the floor before he took a deep breath as he looked back up at you, “but I don’t feel the same. I um, I’m actually seeing someone.”

You felt tears sting at your eyes as your heart split in half, it was bad enough hearing him say he didn’t have feelings for you, it was even worse hearing him say he had feelings for someone else, “oh,” you said pathetically as you looked at the floor.

“Hey, hey,” Dalton whispered, tilting your head up so you looked at him, his face was apologetic as he wiped the tears that blurred your vision, “it’s okay. Let’s go somewhere and talk about this, we can get something to eat.”

You shook your head, “I’m not hungry.”

“Then let’s talk about this.” Dalton begged.

You knew you had to talk about it but you couldn’t without breaking down, “I’m actually just going to head back to my room.”

“Alone?” Dalton asked, looking at you sadly.

“I need to be alone right now,” you stand up as you forced back tears.

Dalton sighed with a nod when he realised you weren’t going to change your mind, “okay. I’ll come and check on you later.”

You nodded, barely hearing his words as you left his room, letting out a choked sob. You got back to your room as quickly as you could without actually running and you immediately curled up in bed, pulling the covers over your head. You cried your heart out, your tears staining your pillow, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. It hurt so much.

Hours passed and you stayed in the same position, ignoring your phone every time it buzzed or rang, you knew it would be Dalton apologising. You didn’t want him to apologise, it wasn’t his fault he didn’t return your feelings. Finally, after you dodging every single one of Dalton’s calls there was a knock on your door and he lightly pushed the door open.

“Y/N? Are you okay?”

You’d stopped crying but the pain was still unbearable, you heard him sigh as he walked over and perched on the end of your bed, “Y/N. Please, talk to me. Can I get you anything?”

You shook your head refusing to speak to him, “can I do anything to make you feel better?”

“I would just prefer it if you left,” you mumbled.

“Oh,” you could hear the hurt in his voice, “of course, if that’s what you want. I’ll leave, I never meant to hurt you, Y/N.”

��It’s not your fault,” you whisper as his footsteps made their way to the door.

He hesitated as he turned back to face you, “there’s been so many nights when I’ve pulled an all-nighter, trying to talk myself into having feelings for you. We’d be perfect if only I felt the same. Maybe in another life,” he let out a little broken laugh that crushed your heart.

“In another life,” you agreed.

#angst #dalton lambert #dalton #dalton x reader #dalton x you #reader insert #dalton angst #insidious #insidious 5 #insidious the red door #the red door

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anguishmacgyver · 1 year

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#I challenge and invite you to tag this with SO much angst #take no prisoners #macgyver #macgyver 2x02 #angus macgyver #jack dalton #anguishmacgyvergif #lucas till #george eads #angst

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star-laboratory · 15 days

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this song was written with them in mind

#Spotify #dead poets society #dps #dead poets fandom #charlie dalton #knox overstreet #knarlie #one of your girls #troye sivan #knarlie angst ily

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mauvefayette6 · 1 year

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Hello !! First I hope you’re doing okay and you’re having a wonderful day ! I wanted know if it’s possible to request a oneshot with Neil Perry ! Like their first big argument and good old angst about him forgetting a date to go hang out with his friends or whatever you want 🤭!! but with happy ending because I love him way too much !! Thank youuu and have a wonderful day again !

Promises [ Neil Perry x fem!Reader ]

You waited, dressed and ready to go. Neil promised, he said he would be there by 9 pm so that you could make it to your reservation. It’s 10:30pm now with no sight of him. You decided to call his number again to see if he would answer.

The person you’re trying to reach isn’t available, to leave a voicemail wait for the beep. Beep…

“Hey Neil, it’s (Y/n) again. Just wondering when you’ll be back? Return my calls when you’re able to…” You whispered the last part before hanging up. You turned your phone off, your heart sinking as tears began to form in your eyes.

Neil wasn’t the type to just forget about you or a date or a commitment just in general. What if he was kidnapped? Mugged? Robbed? Shot? So many thoughts ran through your mind. You began to hyperventilate, you got up and began to pace around your apartments kitchen.

“Please answer,” you mumbled looking at your phone.

12am rolled around and you decided to call again. Maybe he was caught up at work and his boss was being an ass.

“Hello?” Finally, Neil answered.

“Hey, where have you been?” You mumbled. You felt your body relax at the sound of his voice.

“I’m hanging with Charlie. He thought it would be a great idea to come to the bar for a couple of drinks. Why?” He asked. The feeling of worry vanished and was replaced with disappointment and anger.

“Goodnight.” Was all you mustered up. You hung up and walked to your bedroom.

A bar? Drinks? Charlie Dalton? You weren’t mad about the date. It could have always been rescheduled. You weren’t the kind to stop Neil from hanging with his friends. But, to miss all your calls? To ignore you to drink with his friends? All he had to do was call you and ask to change the date! You didn’t care!

You undressed yourself and put on your nightgown. You took your make up off and did your face routine. You did it all with furry. Your heart was racing and your hands were shaking. Tears in your eyes you laid in bed. You checked your phone to see no new messages. You scoffed and fell asleep.

The next morning rolled around as you began to get ready for work. For a brief moment you forgot about it. That’s until you received a phone call from him. You decided to ignore him. You didn’t want to start the day off on the wrong foot. You opened up your door and began walking to work.

The busy streets of Chicago gave you a peaceful vibe. People hated the noise of the city but you loved it. You were from a small town in Virginia and Chicago was such a different vibe from there. You clocked in and turned your phone off. You wanted no distractions, no messages, nothing.

You walked out of work and to your apartment. Walking from the elevator you saw Neil Perry holding a bouquet of roses. You scoffed and walked towards him.

“You weren’t picking up my calls so I decided to see you…” He said but you ignored him. You unlocked the door and slammed it in his face. He knocked on your door but you ignored it.

“Is everything okay?!” He shouted knocking on the door. You grumpily walked to the door and opened it. “I’m going to take that as a no…”

“Yeah Neil, I’m not very happy with you right now,” you scoffed not allowing him inside the apartment.

“What did I do?” He asked and you rolled your eyes.

“Not only did you have me worried but you also ditched me to hang out with your friends,” you explained and the realization dawned on him.

“I thought I was missing something, I swear I’ll make it up to you,” he begged but you shook your head.

“It wasn’t about the date Neil, I don’t care about it. I care that I was here, crying and worried! I thought you were injured, I thought someone had mugged you and left you to die! Do you ever understand how scared I was? I left you hundreds of messages! A ‘I’m fine’ or a ‘I’m out with my friends’ would have been great! But no you decided to not answer me!” You shouted with tears in your eyes. Your voice was shaky, “I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if you had died Neil, but you didn’t have a care in the world!”

He stood there, his heart aching.

“I didn’t know… Charlie took my phone and I was out with my friends. You know I haven’t seen them in years.” He said attempting to defend himself.

“This is pointless Neil. I just, I just don’t want to see you right now. I’m angry and disappointed. Your lack of empathy is sickening right now. I want to be alone,” you said slamming the door in his face. You leaned on your door and began to sob. The feelings coming all at once like a wrecking ball. It was like he didn’t understand how it felt to be up all night waiting for someone to answer you.

You woke up the next morning. Luckily for you it was your day off. You laid in bed with your favorite candy and confort show on. Your phone was on your nightstand charging. You sobbed every few seconds. You hated arguing with Neil, growing up your parents were verbally abusive towards each other. Arguing and yelling was the thing you always tried to not do.

You heard a knock on the door. Maybe you could pretend not to be home.

“I know your home,” you heard from the other side. Neil. You sighed and got up. You walked to the door and opened it.

“Before you start talking hear me out, please.” He said and you sighed. “I realize how big of an asshole move that was. I didn’t want to worry you or ditch you or cause you any harm. I had a rough day at work and well I need to blow out some steam and Charlie offered to take me to a bar and grab some drinks while the guys were in town. I forgot about our plans and while I was going to check my phone Charlie took it out of my hands. I didn’t purposely ignore you and the second I got it back I answered you. It wasn’t my intention to ignore you and I will be having a chat with Charlie about not taking my phone. Please forgive me…” He stopped and looked at you. Tears were falling from your eyes as you brought him in for a hug.

“I don’t like arguing with you Neil. I was just so worried yesterday. My mind doesn’t work like everyone else’s. My mind doesn’t go to ‘he is probably still at work’ I instantly think you’re being murdered or something…” You cried, your face nuzzled on his neck as he hugged you tightly.

“I promise it will never ever happen again, I swear it.” He whispered not daring to let you go.

——

A/n: Hey!! I’m going to start doing all requests now just so I can get some stuff out! Requests are temporarily CLOSED!!

#dps #dead poets society #dead poets society scenarios #neil perry #charlie dalton #todd and neil #stephen meeks #before midnight #nuwanda #mr keating #neil perry x reader #neil perry one shots #angst #neil perry angst #neil perry x fem!reader

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marauderswolf22 · 8 months

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im re-reading dead poets society (i've read the book only once but watched the movie abt 4 times) and shit i love it so much

#it's 11 pm and im exhausted so im gonna continue in the morning unfortunetly #i've read literally 2/3 (100 from 150 pages) AND IM SO SCARED FOR ALL THE ANGST #if you didn't read/watch it GO NOW #it's so good im telling you #and every new time im even thinking about it im analysing mostly the characters in a different way #dead poets society #neil perry #todd anderson #charlie dalton

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redsummermoon · 1 month

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Goodbyes

Charlie Dalton x reader

CW: female reader, use of Y/N, angst, Charlie going back to school, brief mention of underage drinking

can you tell i don't want to go to school [1.5k words]

Charlie and Y/N had just spent the most amazing summer together. They’d gone to the beach, splashed in the waves until the sun dipped below the horizon, and laughed over melting ice cream cones. They’d snuck into late-night movies, thrown parties that left them both giggling and stumbling over each other in a tipsy haze, eventually passing out in a bathtub because it seemed like a good idea at the time. It had been a summer full of memories and mischief.

But now, with summer winding down, the reality of Charlie’s return to Welton Academy was sinking in. Y/N was in his room, trying to help him pack. It was a disaster zone, with clothes, records, and books scattered everywhere, and a lone suitcase sitting half-open in the middle of the chaos.

“Charlie, you seriously weren’t going to pack like this, were you?” Y/N asked, holding up a wrinkled shirt with a mock look of horror.

Charlie grinned, lounging on the bed as he watched her. “What’s wrong with my method? You just toss everything in, and boom, you’re done. It’s efficient.”

“Efficiently awful,” Y/N shot back, starting to fold the shirt. “You’re hopeless.”

Charlie smirked, rolling onto his side to get a better view of her. “Hopelessly charming, you mean.”

Y/N snorted, tossing a pair of socks at him. “Yeah, charmingly lazy.”

He caught the socks and grinned wider. “You know you love it. Besides, aren’t you the one always saying I need more structure in my life? I’m just giving you something to work with.”

Y/N shook her head, trying to hide her smile. “I’m beginning to think you’re doing this on purpose just to keep me here longer.”

Charlie’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Maybe I am. What’s it to you?”

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Y/N teased, picking up another shirt and folding it neatly. “Having me cater to your every need while you just lie there and look pretty.”

“Well, someone’s got to look pretty around here,” Charlie shot back with a wink.

Y/N rolled her eyes, but her cheeks warmed at his teasing. “If you think you can charm your way out of packing, you’re sadly mistaken, Mr. Dalton.”

Charlie sat up, his playful grin never wavering. “You know, I’m pretty good at charming my way into things too. Especially when I’ve got someone like you to sweet-talk.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, but she kept her tone light. “Nice try, but flattery will only get you so far.”

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “How far, exactly?”

Y/N felt her pulse quicken. She was used to Charlie’s flirtations, but there was something different in the way he was looking at her now. Something that made it hard to breathe. “Not far enough to get out of packing,” she replied, trying to keep her cool as she handed him a stack of folded shirts.

Charlie chuckled, taking the shirts from her but not breaking eye contact. “Alright, alright, I’ll behave… for now.”

She laughed, the tension easing just a bit, and they both got back to work. Y/N was folding and organizing, while Charlie made half-hearted attempts to help, all the while sneaking glances at her.

But as they continued, the mood slowly shifted. Y/N could sense Charlie’s thoughts were elsewhere, his usual lightheartedness giving way to something more serious.

He wasn’t his usual, carefree self today. There was a tension in the air that Y/N could feel but couldn’t quite place. As she worked, she felt Charlie’s gaze on her, more intense than it had been before. He was always teasing, always flirting, but today it felt different, heavier somehow.

“What’s with the long face?” she asked, trying to lighten the mood. “You’re acting like you don’t want to go back to Welton.”

Charlie hesitated, his hands still on the records. “I don’t,” he admitted, his voice lower than usual. “I mean, I do. But… I don’t want to leave.”

Y/N paused, looking up at him. “Well, you don’t have a choice. It’s Welton. And you’ve got to go back. We’ll still see each other during the holidays.”

“Yeah, but it won’t be the same,” Charlie said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. “This summer… it’s been different. I don’t want it to end.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. She had felt it too. They had been so inseparable, it had felt like nothing else in the world mattered when they were together. But she didn’t want to dwell on it, not now. Not when he was about to leave.

“Hey,” she said, forcing a smile. “We’ll make the most of the time we have left. And we’ll make sure next summer is just as good, if not better.”

Charlie didn’t respond right away. Instead, he stood up and moved closer to her, his gaze locked on hers. “You know, Y/N,” he began, his voice softening in a way that made her nervous, “I’ve been thinking… about us.”

Y/N’s stomach flipped. She had a feeling she knew where this was going, and she wasn’t sure she was ready for it. “Charlie, don’t,” she said quickly, trying to cut him off before he could say more. “We’re having a good time, let’s not ruin it.”

But Charlie wasn’t going to let it go. “No, I need to say this,” he insisted, taking her hands in his. His touch was warm, and she felt a shiver run through her. “I’ve been feeling this for a while now, and I can’t leave without telling you.”

Y/N tried to pull her hands away, but he held on, his grip gentle but firm. “Charlie, please. You don’t have to—”

“I like you, Y/N,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’ve liked you for a long time. More than just a friend. I didn’t want to admit it because I didn’t want to mess things up between us, but I can’t keep it to myself anymore.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. This was the moment she had secretly hoped for, yet dreaded at the same time. She wanted to say something, to tell him that she felt the same way, that she had been falling for him all summer. But instead, all she could think about was how he had waited until now, the last possible moment, to tell her.

“Why now?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Why did you wait until the night before you’re leaving to say this?”

Charlie looked pained. “Because I was scared,” he admitted. “I was scared of what it would mean for us. I didn’t want to ruin what we had. But I can’t go back to Welton without you knowing how I feel.”

Y/N shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. “You had all summer, Charlie. All summer to say something. And now, when you’re about to leave, you drop this on me? What am I supposed to do with that?”

“I don’t know,” Charlie said, his voice cracking. “I just couldn’t keep it inside anymore. I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t lose me,” Y/N’s voice began to tremble. “But this… this isn’t fair, Charlie. I don’t know what to do with this. If we start something now, what happens when you’re at Welton? You’ll forget about me.”

Charlie shook his head fiercely. “That’s impossible, Y/N. I’ve been coming back to you since the moment I met you. There’s no way I could ever forget about you.”

Y/N’s heart ached at his words. She wanted to believe him, to throw herself into his arms and tell him that she felt the same way. But the timing was all wrong, and it hurt too much to think about what could happen if things didn’t work out.

“I need to go home,” she said, her voice breaking as she pulled away from him. She couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. “I just… I need some time to think.”

“Y/N, please,” Charlie said, reaching out to her, but she stepped back, shaking her head.

“Goodbye, Charlie. Have fun at school,” she whispered, turning and hurrying out of the room before he could see her break down completely.

Charlie stood there, frozen, as the sound of Y/N’s footsteps faded down the stairs. He looked around his room, at the mess they had been trying to sort through, and suddenly, the weight of everything crashed down on him.

Charlie felt more alone than he ever had before.

Part 2

#charlie dalton x reader #charliedaltonxreader #charlie dalton #dead poets society #dead poets fandom #dead poets fanfic #dps #dps fanfiction #dps fandom #dps x reader #dps charlie #charlie dalton x reader angst

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