Whoever Tf Was In The Writers Room And Made David Aka Ollies Dad Hold His Cold Hand, Ollie Is Dead Already

whoever tf was in the writers room and made david aka ollie’s dad hold his cold hand, ollie is dead already and david is sobbing, kissing his hand muttering “my beautiful boy, i’m so sorry i failed you” JAIL ABSOLUTELY FUCKING JAIL

Daeron Targaryen - Flawless

Summary - A commoner and a prince defy societal norms but as their secret affair is exposed, they grapple with intense emotions and the fear of their love being destroyed. They must choose whether to defy the world for their love or succumb to the pressures tearing them apart.

Pairing - Daeron Targaryen x reader

Warnings - None

Word count - 2130

Masterlist for Daeron • House of the Dragon General Masterlist

I fell in love today. There aren't many words that you can say that could ever get my mind to change. She's enough for me, she's in love with me.

"If we're caught, there will be a heavy price to pay," I whispered, my lips grazing Daeron's as we huddled together in the dim stables, the air thick with the earthy smell of hay and the soft snorts of nearby horses. 

My heart pounded in my chest, each beat a reminder of the risk we were taking, and yet it only deepened the pull I felt toward him. The danger was intoxicating, fueling my desire for the man before me.

"I do not care," Daeron murmured, his fingers tender as they traced along my cheek, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear before cupping my face. 

His touch was so gentle, it made my knees weak. His violet eyes, those piercing, otherworldly eyes, locked onto mine with a fire that sent shivers down my spine. 

Then, without warning, his lips claimed mine. Familiar and firm, the kiss ignited something deep inside me, a flame that only he could kindle. The taste of him, the warmth of his hands moving against me, sent waves of longing through my body. 

I surrendered to it, letting him guide us down onto the soft, hay-covered floor. 

His hands, rough yet achingly tender, roamed over me, sending sparks of electricity with every touch. 

The tension between us was palpable, the thrill of being discovered heightening the already burning heat that simmered in every breath we took.

"Here?" I asked, my voice a breathless whisper as I momentarily pulled away, gazing up at him. My heart raced, not from fear, but from the sheer weight of my feelings for him.

Daeron wasn't just a prince to me. He was more than the silver-haired, violet-eyed fantasy I had dreamt of. He was real, here, with me, like something out of a story too good to be true. 

I had always thought him untouchable, a man destined for greatness far beyond my reach, and yet, in this moment, it felt like we had defied the world and carved out a place for just us.

"Do not deny me," he breathed against my skin, his lips brushing along my neck, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. 

Each kiss, each small bite, left me trembling, and I knew I would carry these marks long after the moment ended—a visible reminder of what we'd stolen from time.

"I wouldn't dream of it," I whispered back, my fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer as he fumbled with the laces of my dress. 

The anticipation between us built like the brewing of a storm, the tension rising, until it felt like we might shatter from the force of it.

But the storm came differently. The stable doors creaked open, a sound so mundane yet terrifying in that moment. We froze. Too late.

"Daeron!" A voice boomed through the quiet space like a thunderclap. My blood ran cold as I shoved him off me, scrambling to sit up. 

My hands shook as I tried to lace my dress, my fingers clumsy with panic.

In the doorway stood Gwayne, Daeron's uncle, his large figure casting a dark shadow over the stables. His face, twisted in disappointment, was a mask of barely contained fury. 

He looked at us as though we were children caught misbehaving, but there was something crueler in his eyes—contempt, as if we were something beneath him. Filth.

Daeron rose first, and I hurried to follow, my cheeks burning with humiliation as I fumbled to fix my dress, every second stretching into an eternity of shame.

"What is the meaning of this?" Gwayne's voice was as cold as winter's first breath, each word cutting through the air like shards of ice. 

He looked between us as if we had committed some great sin.

"Nothing," I mumbled, my voice barely audible. I couldn't bear to meet Daeron's gaze, though I could feel the tension radiating off him. 

I wanted to explain, to defend what we had, but the words died in my throat.

"It is exactly what it looks like," Daeron said, his voice steady as he met his uncle's glare, his shoulders squared in defiance.

For a brief moment, his boldness sent a flicker of warmth through me, but it was quickly drowned by the flood of shame that pooled in my stomach.

Gwayne's lip curled in disgust. "If you're going to indulge in such... affairs with women like her," he spat, his words dripping with disdain, "at least have the decency to be discreet. Or is that too much to ask?"

My heart twisted at the words. Women like her. The insult stung like a slap, his meaning clear.

In Gwayne's eyes, I wasn't worth Daeron's time. I was nothing more than a passing indulgence, something beneath Daeron's station. A common girl. A nobody.

Daeron's hand reached for mine, but I stepped back, my entire body stiff with humiliation.

"Women like her?" Daeron's voice was tight, strained with disbelief and hurt. "She is not—"

"You know exactly what I mean," Gwayne cut him off, dismissing his defence as if it were beneath him.

Tears stung at my eyes, the weight of my reality crashing down around me. Of course, this was how it would end. 

Daeron, a prince destined for greatness, and me, the blacksmith's daughter, foolish enough to believe in fairy tales. 

How had I let myself think, even for a second, that we could ever be more than a secret tryst?

But then Daeron's voice, soft and urgent, broke through the chaos. "I love her."

The words stopped me cold. I looked up, shocked, searching his face for any sign that this was some cruel jest. 

But his eyes—those beautiful violet eyes—held nothing but sincerity. He meant it.

Gwayne, however, was unimpressed. "Don't be ridiculous," he scoffed, dismissing Daeron's declaration with a wave of his hand.

"You think this is love?" Gwayne's voice dripped with venom, his gaze flicking over me like I was dirt under his boot. "This is folly. A prince does not sully himself with... commoners."

It was too much. The weight of Daeron's love, the sting of Gwayne's scorn, the sheer impossibility of our situation—it all overwhelmed me. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't stay.

Without a word, I turned and fled.

Daeron's voice called out to me, but I didn't stop. Not until I reached the empty streets beyond the stable did I let the tears fall, silent and unrelenting. 

Tears for what we had, for the love I had found—and for the reality that had torn it apart.

─── ✦⋅♡⋅✦ ───

A week had passed since that treacherous moment in the stables—a week that felt like an eternity. Every day, Daeron sought me out, and every day, I found a way to avoid him. 

Each time I caught sight of his silver hair in the distance or heard the familiar lilt of his voice in a crowded street, I slipped away before he could catch me. 

I knew that if I saw him—if I let him speak—my resolve would crumble. I couldn't afford that. 

Not if I wanted to move on, not if I wanted to survive this heartbreak, I needed distance.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, I found myself at my favourite place, opposite the riverbank, away from the prying eyes of Oldtown's streets. 

Here, I could think, breathe, and mourn the love I could never truly have. 

The gentle sound of the water soothed my soul, the quiet trickle of the current carrying away my unspoken pain. 

I held a small daisy between my fingers, twirling it absentmindedly as I stared at the water. My thoughts were scattered, filled with memories of him—his touch, his smile, his violet eyes that seemed to see straight into my soul. 

I didn't know how to stop loving him, but I had to try. It was the only way to protect myself from a heartbreak that already felt inevitable.

But the peace I'd found was short-lived. Footsteps crunched behind me, slow and deliberate. 

Someone sat beside me, and without turning, I already knew who it was. His presence was as familiar to me as the air I breathed.

Daeron.

I glanced over to see him, his silver hair catching the fading light, his violet eyes locked on mine with an intensity that made my breath hitch. He was silent, watching me, waiting for me to react. 

My heart pounded, and instinctively, I moved to stand, to flee, but his hand shot out, gently covering mine, the warmth of his touch rooting me in place.

"Please, don't leave," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. His plea wasn't just in his words—it was in his eyes, the way his fingers trembled ever so slightly over mine.

I sighed, unable to meet his gaze for long. "Daeron, you know we can't do this," I began, my voice breaking under the weight of the truth. "We were never meant to be."

"No," he interrupted sharply, his voice laced with frustration. "Don't say that. Don't you dare say that."

I shook my head, the weight of the world pressing down on me. "Your uncle was right," I whispered, my eyes fixated on the moving water. "I am flawed. I'm not—"

"Stop," he said firmly, cutting me off with a fierce determination. He reached up, cupping my face with both hands, forcing me to look at him. 

His touch was tender, but his words were anything but. "Do not ever think that. The only flaw here is that you're flawless. Too perfect for a world like this, for people like my uncle who are blind to your worth."

His words hung in the air, leaving me speechless. The walls I had built around myself, the ones I'd spent days fortifying to keep him out, began to crack. 

I could feel the warmth of his hands on my skin, the urgency in his touch, and despite my better judgment, my resolve began to weaken.

"Daeron, I can't—" I started, but he silenced me with a look, his thumb brushing my cheek as his gaze bore into mine.

His love was a gift I didn't know how to accept. I wanted to believe his words to trust the fire in his eyes that promised a future I never thought I deserved.

But how could I? The world wasn't kind to girls like me.

"I love you," he declared, his voice trembling with an intensity that left no room for doubt. 

"I do not care what anyone thinks or what anyone says. I will defy them all. I will defy my uncle, the court, the world if I have to—because I cannot live without you."

My breath caught in my throat. There was no hesitation, no doubt in his words. 

He spoke with the conviction of someone who had decided to throw caution to the wind, to face any storm for the sake of the one he loved. 

His declaration was a promise, a vow. And in that moment, I realized he meant every word.

"Please," he continued, his voice dropping to a whisper, "don't shut me out. Don't leave me again. I will fight for you, for us—just let me."

Tears welled up in my eyes, but this time, they weren't from pain. They were from the overwhelming rush of emotions his words stirred in me. 

I had been so afraid, so convinced that I wasn't worthy of him, of this love. But here he was, on his knees beside me, begging me to let him love me.

I nodded, my throat too tight with emotion to form words. "I'm sorry," I finally managed to whisper, my voice barely audible. "I'm sorry for pushing you away."

He shook his head, dismissing the apology without a second thought. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

Before I could say anything more, he pulled me toward him, his lips finding mine in a kiss that was desperate and raw, as if he feared that I might vanish if he let go. 

His arms wrapped around me, holding me close, and in that moment, everything else faded away—the judgments, the fears, the obstacles that had seemed insurmountable. 

All that mattered was him. All that mattered was us.

As we sat there by the river, the world around us fell into silence, and for the first time in days, I allowed myself to believe in a future where we could be together. 

A future where love, not fear, guided our path.

Because Daeron had chosen me. And no matter what stood in our way, I would choose him too—again and again, for as long as I lived.

The only flaw, you are flawless but I just can't wait for love to destroy us, I just can't wait for love.

A/n - Inspo of course came from 'Flawless' by The Neighbourhood, I need them to come back desperately :(

writing fight scenes or other tense moments: long run on sentences, borderline purple prose, you can feel the tension while you're reading it

writing anything else: he went here and did this. then he went over there and did that.

BAEKHYUN — 'PINEAPPLE SLICE' MV

— Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov

Drafting/Writing a Modern jace one shot rn and idk if I hate it or love it :/