#brother bright the wiser | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

elaratyrell · 8 months

Text

Poor Unfortunate Souls {Part 1/3 -> Part Of Your World}

*All images found on Pinterest. Moodboard made by yours truly*

Dark! Ursula! Aemond x Fem! Eric! Reader x Ariel! Jacaerys

Warnings: Nothing in this chapter.. reader almost drowns but is saved. Daemon’s an asshole. *Divider from Firefly Graphics*

Synopsis: Jacaerys Velaryon, the reluctant heir to Atlantica. The moment he saw you, he knew he would never see someone who could capture him with their beauty again. You would haunt him eternally. In a desperate attempt to meet you, he turns to Aemond Targaryen, an outcast from the merfolk, to help him walk amongst the land dwellers. But when Aemond lays his eyes on you, he knows he has to have you. By any means necessary.

Part Two Jace's Ending Aemond's Ending

Jacaerys Velaryon. The son of Queen Rhaenyra and the heir to the underwater kingdom of Atlantica, the home of the merfolk. An adventurous young merman, he was often found exploring sunken shipwrecks or the deepest sea caverns in search of treasures and trinkets…

Even when he was supposed to be attending his royal duties.

He couldn’t help it. He knew his mother wanted him to step up as her heir and become the prince he needed to be for his people, but he knew he wasn’t the prince they wanted. He wasn’t the prince they needed. He lacked the drive and ambition for ruling as king. He wasn’t interested in politics, or ruling over the merfolk.

In fact, he often felt conflicted between two worlds.

His home, the ocean, was where his family and his people were. And even though his four younger brothers and two sisters often drove him insane, he loved them dearly. And he loved his mother… his stepfather, Daemon, on the other hand, he barely even tolerated. He disliked how much of an influence he had over his mother, and how much power he held in the kingdom.

The other half of him, however, wished to be above the surface of the waves, where he could feel the full warmth of the sun, the softness of the sand on the shore and the cooling sea breeze…

He wanted to be where the people were.

Out of the water and living among them.

He knew it was outlawed to travel to the surface after his father, Harwin, was murdered by humans. He was incredibly young, barely over five years old, and his brothers Lucerys and Joffrey were too young to even remember, but that didn’t stop him from sneaking off to watch them from a distance. And besides, he was certain the kingdom was so against humans because Daemon seemed to loathe them, often spreading his rather false horror stories over humans and their prejudices against merfolk. There were even whispers of him trying to convince Rhaenyra to go to war with the surface world. Jacaerys disapproved of this, but knew his mother was wiser than that.

And while Jace certainly resented the humans who murdered his father, he knew not all humans were that cruel, just as not all merfolk were like Daemon. He still found himself greatly intrigued by the surface dwellers. Whether they were sailing on their great ships, or frolicking on the beach, or dancing… he wanted to try dancing…

But he knew he could never trade his tail for legs.

And so he spent his days exploring with his companion since birth, a fish with glittering olive green scales and bright orange fins called Vermax, eagerly taking any trinket or human object he could find at the bottom of the seabed or in a long abandoned shipwreck.He would take it to the surface to have it inspected by a seagull, Cannibal, before taking it to his secret grotto, a deep sea cavern where he stored his treasures.

He was often scolded by his mother for forgetting his duties, often arriving late or failing to show up at all sometimes, just like earlier in the week, when he failed to show up to a royal concert when he and Vermax had an unfortunate encounter with a shark while exploring a shipwreck. He had completely forgotten about the concert, going to Cannibal about the two interesting objects he’d found to add to his collection. When he had returned to rather sheepishly apologise to his mother, he had both her and Daemon lecturing him over duty and his careless and reckless behaviour whenever he opened his mouth to try.

It had even gotten to the point where Rhaenyra was now sending Syrax, her golden crab companion, to watch him and make sure he wasn’t getting into trouble, reporting back to her over whether he’d been to the surface. Jace had visited the surface world far less frequently as a result, only managing to do so when he out swam the crustacean. It wouldn’t surprise him if she sent his younger brother Lucerys or his uncle Aegon after him next. Or, heaven forbid, one of his sisters.

It was after one such scolding that Jacaerys found himself at his grotto, admiring his growing collection and daydreaming about being among the people on land. Being where he could walk, run, dance… where he could ask them the thousands of burning questions he had… where he could stay all day in the sun.

Where he could be part of their world.

He smiled to himself at the thought of walking on two legs, but found that fading into a disappointing frown as he looked down to see his tale, scales glittering scarlet and ebony in the fading sunlight.

Everyone assumed he had everything anyone could ever need in life. But he didn’t. He felt torn, ad though he didn’t belong under the ocean, but above the surface.

He wanted more than this.

He let out a soft exhale of disappointment, allowing himself to float down to the bottom of the cavern and landing on a slab of rock jutting out from the stone floor.

“I just wish to be part of that world, Vermax. Up there. All these treasures I have… they’re neat. And it seems as though I have everything… but it’s not enough. I want to live among them. I have everything I could ever need, and yet I want more…” He murmured, too caught up in his own thoughts to notice the stone entrance to his grotto sliding open.

A low whistle of mild impressment did, however, catch his attention, followed by a amused voice.

“Mother’s going to kill you.”

Lucerys was leaning against the closed entrance to the grotto, his arms crossed. Both Velaryon boys were rather similar, with dark curls and deep brown eyes. But Lucerys’ hair was shorter, and a slightly darker brown, and he had more black scales than Jacaerys, whose tail was mostly red, like their mother.

Jacaerys shot up, his cheeks slightly flushed. “Luke-“

“What is all of this stuff?” Luke asked, looking around the grotto rather amusedly.

“It’s… it’s just my… collection…”

“Impressive. I always wondered what you were doing when you constantly snuck away,” He mused. “But like I said, if mother finds out about this, you’re dead. She’s worried about you, always obsessing over the surface world and neglecting your duties...”

Jace rolled his eyes at his younger brother. Above him he heard a distant booming noise. Glancing up through the hole in the cavern roof where the surface of the water was visible, he saw a thousand colours light up the sky in a flurry of sparks and fizzing. He ignored his brother’s continued chattering, transfixed on whatever was happening in the world above.

“I told her that you were either crazy, or this is a just phase…”

“What do you suppose…?” Jacaerys muttered to himself, ignoring his brother’s teasing antics and swimming up to where the noise and bright flashing colours were coming from.

“But I didn’t realise you were this obsessed- where are you going? Jace! You can’t go up there! Humans are trouble! Mother said so!” Luke called after his brother, but he was already gone, Vermax hurrying after him. Luke glanced over at where Syrax was perched on a nearby ledge.

“So… should you follow him or should I?” He asked.

Syrax, realising Luke didn’t want to be the one to do so, hopped off the ledge and hurried after the older prince, who had now reached the water’s surface.

Jace gazed up in sheer awe at the great ship sailing towards him, the illuminating the night sky in a flurry of sparks in the most vibrant shades of scarlet, blue, emerald and gold. The sails billowed in the ocean winds, the largest of which was imprinted with what Jace could only assume was a royal sigil.

As Jace moved to get closer to the ship, he let out a yelp, feeling a sharp a pinch on his arm, Looking down to the culprit, he flicked Syrax off him and rubbed his arm, the skin slightly reddened from where the crab pinched him.

Diving back beneath the waves to move closer to the ship, Vermax hot on his tail. When he reached the great vessel, Jacaerys hoisted himself up and managed to climb up the side of the ship. He knew it was a risky move. If he was caught by the sailors, he would be captured or even killed. If was caught by his mother or Daemon… it might be even worse. But his curiosity had gotten the better of him.

He kept hidden in the shadows, peering through a gap on the side of the boat. There was cheering, dancing, drinking and singing, a celebration of sorts, and it somewhat relieved Jace that the sailors were probably too occupied with the festivities to notice him.

A sweet melody filled Jace’s ears as the sailors danced. A flute, he believed, was playing. He remembered reading about them in an old book he’d recovered from a shipwreck. He’d always imagined how their tune sounded, and he wasn’t disappointed.

He wasn’t sure what was being celebrated, but it seemed to be a most joyous occasion. Everyone seemed in the highest of moods and the most joyful of spirits. It was wonderful to see this side of the surface dwellers, and he couldn’t look away.

In fact, he was so entranced by the humans that he found himself jumping back in shock as a rather strange and hairy creature, a dog he believed came bounding over to him. He had read about them but had never seen them in person before, but it seemed friendly enough, sniffing him with interest and wagging its tail.

Jace smiled, rather tentatively reaching out to the animal, only to shrink back into the shadows as a female voice called out to the creature.

“Max! Here boy!”

Jace cautiously peered back around, his eyes widening as he laid eyes on who might possibly be the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

You.

He watched as Max eagerly bounded over to you, jumping up to lick your face in greeting. You laughed, gently pushing the dog away from you slightly and patting his head.

“Down boy. Good boy. C’mon what’s got you so excited?” You smiled, looking over in Jace’s direction and causing him to duck back into the darkness again. His cheeks were flushed pink, his mouth slightly agape. He knew if Luke were here, he would never hear the end of it. But after having seen numerous paintings and drawings of human women in books he’d found, as well as meeting with countless potential matches organised by his mother, be found that none of them, even the most notoriously beautiful mermaids, compared to you.

He found himself peering back around to admire you once again as you sat down with Max, rubbing the dog’s stomach and watching the ongoing celebrations. You were dressed rather simply in a white linen shirt with the top two buttons undone and a pair of blue breeches, a pair of black knee high leather boots on your feet. Your hair was down and loose, fluttering in the nightly see breeze.

You were absolutely beautiful.

A sudden loud screech to Jace’s side caused him to reluctantly tear his gaze away from you, sending the culprit a nasty glare.

“Quiet, Cannibal.” He hissed, not wanting to draw attention to his hiding place. Cannibal edged closer to Jace, seemingly wanting to see what- or who- had caught the young prince’s attention. When the bird laid eyes on you, he let out an even louder screech that sounded a little like a squawk of amusement, only to have Jace grab him by the beak to shut him up.

“I said quiet.” He shot the gull another glare before returning his focus to you. “I’ve never seen a human up this close before.” He breathed as he watched you play a small, cheerful melody on a flute, the flute he must have been hearing earlier, Max running around in circles around you as you twirled around, the both of you almost dancing together to the tune.

“She… she’s very beautiful…” He murmured, shooting yet another glare to the bird as he let out a slight muffled wheeze through his closed beak. Jace followed Cannibal’s gaze to where Max continued to dance around you. “No, not that thing.” He muttered, using the hand wrapped around Cannibal’s beak to move the bird’s head upwards to look at you. “The human.”

“Silence! Silence!” A man suddenly announced, his arms outstretched as he stood in the centre of the deck. “It is now my deepest honour and privilege to present our esteemed Princess Y/N with her birthday gift.”

“Y/N…” Jacaerys murmured dreamily, watching you step forward with a chorus of cheers from the crowd onboard. “Princess Y/N…”

The man stepped to the side to present a large object concealed by sapphire blue cloth and tied with a scarlet ribbon. “Happy birthday, Y/N.” He smiled, and with one tug on the ribbon, the cloth fell to reveal… a statue of you.

You were dressed in an extravagant gown, your arm raised in the air, your gleaming sword pointed towards the sky. Your expression was not warm as it was in reality, but one of hardened steel.

It was a warrior’s statue.

Jace tilted his head, his brows furrowing. The statue captured your beauty, that much was certain, but there was something missing from it. Maybe it was lacking your smile that sent a swarm of butterflies to erupt in his stomach, or the sparkle in your eyes. Whatever it was… it made the statue seem… unlike you.

“Wow… Grimsby you shouldn’t have.” Your voice sounded rather exasperated. “It’s… truly something to behold.”

Jace smiled. He could tell you were struggling to muster a compliment, but didn’t want to seem ungrateful.

“You like it?”

“It’s… really something…” You muttered, staring up at the statue, your lips pressed into a thin line and your eyes crinkled at the edges as you winced slightly, looking physically in pain at the sight of the gift. “Although it seems rather-“

“I commissioned it myself,” Grimsby declared rather proudly, his hand placed over his heart and making you immediately close your mouth. “Although… I had hoped it would be a wedding gift…”

“Oh don’t start, Grimsby,” You groaned, turning away from him and leaning on the side of the boat, just above where Jacaerys was hiding. “Are you really still sore that I rejected the proposal from that Dornish prince?”

“It isn’t just me, Y/N,” Grimsby sighed, stepping forward. “Your parents, the entire kingdom wishes for you to happily settle down with the right man-“

“Exactly, Grimsby! I need to find the right man,” You argued, sitting down on the side of the ship with one hand holding the rigging of the boat to prevent yourself from falling. “I know he’s out there somewhere. But I don’t want to marry for duty. I’ve always devoted myself to that. I want to marry for love. I want to find someone who… who has the same ambitions as me. Who… wants to see the world and sees past the fact I’m a princess. Someone who understands what it’s like to yearn to be out there exploring the world. Someone who understands freedom, and who wants to break free… and who understands that a part of me belongs out there in that world. Out there in the seas.”

Jace’s expression brightened at your words, his heart fluttering in his chest at you possibly sharing similar struggles to him.

It was like you were too good to be true.

That could be him… he could be that man for you…

“I’ll find him one day. He’s out there somewhere I… I just haven’t found him yet.”

“Well, perhaps you haven’t been looking hard enough.”

“Not helpful, Grimsby.” You grumbled, rising to your feet and looking out at the ocean, as black as the clouds brewing overhead. “Believe me, when I find him, I’ll know. Without a doubt.” Your words were firm, your expression one of clear resolve. “When I see him, it’ll… it’ll just hit me like… like lightning!”

No sooner did those words leave your mouth, you and Jace looked up as the deep growl of thunder rumbled overhead, a flash of lightning lighting up the sky.

“Hurricane!” A sailor yelled. “Stand fast! Secure the rigging!”

You immediately sprung into action, leaning forward to pull on the ropes as the waves lapped against the ship more aggressively than before, the wind whipping through your hair and rain beginning to pelt down from the sky as though the heavens themself were opening.

Jace grabbed ahold of the ship, failing to grab Cannibal as the gull was blown away by the wind torrents with a loud screech of protest. While the others focused on untying the lifeboats, Jace watched as you leaped up the stairs two at a time to reach the steering wheel of the ship that was spinning out of control, trying to stop the ship from capsizing into the water. A large surge of water passed over the ship, drenching you completely and those onboard.

Despite gripping onto the ship as tightly as he could, Jace soon found himself falling back into the water, barrels, crates and even the sailors following him beneath the surface. He swam upwards as quick as his tail could move, breaking through the surface to see a jagged flash of lightning hit the main sail of the ship.

Flames blazed through your royal seal emblazoned on the sail, burning through the cloth and spreading to the mast of the ship.

Jace gasped as he saw the ship uncontrollably heading towards a cluster of jagged rocks jutting out from the sea, you still at the wheel struggling to gain control of the ship. He wanted to scream at you, to climb onto the boat and help you steer the ship to safety, or to just grab you and get you off the ship, but he knew he couldn’t. He watched with a horrified expression as the ship rammed against the rocks, throwing more sailors and cargo, including you and the statue, overboard and into the depths below. The mast snapped, falling forwards and spreading the fire to the rest of the ship.

Jacaerys swam forward to see you help Grimsby onto the lifeboat to join several other of your crew mates. He felt a small sigh of relief to see you safe as you hauled yourself into the small boat, but it the feeling was short lived as you frantically looked around the small cluster of life boats, your gaze ultimately returning to the raging inferno consuming the ship.

“Max!”

No, no, no, no.

You couldn’t go back.

Jace couldn’t watch you do that.

To risk your life and possibly lose it.

He followed you as you swam back to the burning ship, hauling yourself back onboard to save your beloved dog.

“Jump, Max! Come on, you can do it. Come on, boy, just jump!” You desperately cried out to the animal, unable to move further forward thanks to the flames and the collapsed mast.

Jace squinted, trying to see you through the billowing smoke, his breath caught in his throat. As he saw your silhouette emerge through the smoke, he released the breath he was holding, but it got caught in his throat as your foot suddenly fell through the deck and out of his sight.

Max fell off the boat and into the sea where he was pulled onto the lifeboat by the surviving sailors, who cried out to you as you desperately tried to free yourself from where your foot was stuck, the flames flickering higher and higher around you, the smoke filling your lungs and choking you from any oxygen.

You managed to loosen your foot enough to pull it out of your boot as the inferno raged on, but it proved feeble as a barrel of gunpowder rolled past you and into the flames. As soon as the ship exploded, Jacaerys surged forward to where the ship wreckage was sinking beneath the waves, frantically looking around for any sight of you, the flames providing enough light for him to see clearly. Upon seeing no sight of you, he rose back to the surface. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw you, unconscious, balanced on a plank of wood from the deck. No sooner did he see you, the violent waves caused you to slip from the plank and under the water.

As you sank deeper and deeper, Jacaerys swam after you, managing to grab ahold of you and heading in the direction of the shore. He made sure to keep your head above the water so you could hopefully breathe, not even caring whether you were dead or alive at that moment. He just needed to get you to safety.

His arms ache as he finally reached the shallows, struggling to drag both you and himself onto the beach. He cradled you in his arms, his chestnut eyes scanning your form for any sign of life. For any slight twitch, any movement, any breath. Yet your eyes remained closed, your skin pale and your mouth slightly agape.

“Is she… dead?” The word almost got caught in Jacaerys’ throat as he turned to where Cannibal landed beside them on rather shaky legs.

Please don’t be dead… please don’t be dead…

“She… she can’t be dead…” Jace murmured, a finger gently opening one of your eyes. Upon seeing them up close, he realised how beautiful your eyes were. Cannibal hopped between you and Jace, pressing his head against your foot, letting out a small, sorrowful caw.

“Wait… wait look! She’s breathing!” Jace exclaimed as you let out a small exhale, your chest beginning to gently rose and fell. He sent a small disapproving look to Cannibal. “You know that’s not where they breathe, right?” He muttered as Cannibal leaped the air and landed on a nearby rock.

Jace rolled his eyes, looking back to where your breaths were becoming less shallow and more even. “She’s so beautiful…” He whispered as he looked down at you. Your clothes were torn, and one of your boots was gone, your dripping wet hair plastered over your forehead. Jace reached over to gently brush it away from your face.

As his hand moved to gently caress your cheek, he found himself humming a small tune his mother used to sing to him at night. It was an old tune from generations long since passed, sung in an ancient language that was no longer spoken by merfolk other than the royal family, although Jace’s was a little rusty at best after missing so many lessons. It was a lullaby that always soothed him after a night terror when he was young.

His humming soon evolved into him softly singing the song, and a smile spread onto his face as he saw your eyelids flutter and open ever so slightly, your soft, small hand reaching up to place over his. When your hand made contact with his, Jace felt his heartbeat quicken, his skin feeling as though it were on fire from your touch.

A loud bark made him flinch back away from you, spotting Grimsby and Max on the horizon. He dived into the water as the dog bounded over to you, eagerly greeting you by slobbering on your face as you slowly sat up, one hand- the hand that touched Jace’s- resting on the side of your head as you groggily looked around.

“Y/N! Oh thank goodness,” Grimsby breathed in relief, his hand reaching into his pocket and taking out his slightly damp handkerchief, which he used to dab his clammy forehead. “You really delight in these sadistic strains on my blood pressure, don’t you?” He muttered, leaning down to help the princess to her feet. “Are you alright, my dear?”

“I… I saw… a boy. He… he rescued me…” You muttered, one hand still clutching your head as you regained your balance. “He was singing to me. He had the most beautiful voice…” You trailed off, swaying slightly.

”Oh, Y/N,” Grimsby sighed. “I think you’ve swallowed a bit too much seawater.”

“No, I saw him.” She protested, looking out at the shore. “I heard him.”

“Of course you did, my dear,” Grimsby sighed, wrapping an arm over the girl’s shoulders. “Come on. Off we go. Come along, Max- Max! What is that dog barking at now?”

“Max!” You called out, followed by a sharp whistle that got the dog’s attention from where he was barking in Jace’s direction, the prince hiding behind a rock.

As you, Grimsby and Max left the small beach and headed towards your castle, Jace watched you go, Cannibal perched on the rock in front him.

“I don’t know when, I don’t know how… but watch and you’ll see, someday I’ll be part of that world. I know I will be!” He declared to his feathered companion, a steely determination set in those deep brown eyes of his. “No matter what it takes.”

A short distance away, Jacaerys was being watched by an ancient beast. A large, bronze eel, one eye a glittering green and the other glowing a vibrant sapphire blue. She watched him silently for a moment before dipping beneath the surface to return to her master.

It was only a matter of time before the young prince sought him out.

“You summoned me, mother?”

Queen Rhaenyra smiled fondly at her second born son as perched regally on her throne, her golden trident, the source of her power passed down from her father, resting beside her.

“Yes, Lucerys. I wished to ask you about your brother.”

“J-Jacaerys?” Luke stammered.

“Yes. I tasked you with watching over him but you have yet to report back to me. Your sisters have noticed certain things…”

“O-oh?”

“Apparently he’s to himself, daydreaming even more than usual, not swimming to sunken shipwrecks looking for trouble… it’s almost as though something has consumed his mind completely.”

“Well… he seems normal to me mother.” Lucerys chuckled nervously, making Rhaenyra raise an eyebrow.

“Rhaena and Baela said he swam past them in very high spirits this morning, putting flowers in their hair and singing to himself.”

“Well… well I-“

“Lucerys, I know you’re keeping something from me, sweet one.”

“Ke-keeping something, mother? I would never.”

“Really? Because Rhaena and Baela told me something else rather interesting.”

“They… they did?”

“About Jacaerys… his mood. His high spirits and his daydreaming. It’s as though he’s come alive. I’ve seen the signs before, both in myself and others.”

“You… have seen what?” Luke visibly gulped as Rhaenyra beckoned him closer.

“Isn’t it obvious? Jacaerys is in love, is he not? Or at least infatuated?”

“I… I don’t know mother-“

“Come now, Luke. I understand that you and Jace are at that age where you don’t feel the need to tell me everything, but this is important…”

Luke felt face flush slightly. If Rhaenyra found out, she’d be furious. But what would be worse is if Jace got captured, or killed.

“Mother… I do not know-“

“I only wish to know who the lucky mermaid is…”

“Mother-“

“Or merman perhaps? He is rather good friends with Cregan of the Arctic waters, is he not?”

“I- I wouldn’t know, I-“

“Unless you simply do not wish to fulfil the task I have given you and have been neglecting your duty-“

“I tried to stop him mother!” Lucerys suddenly exclaimed, making Rhaenyra raise her eyebrows in slight surprise at her son’s outburst.

“Stop him? From what?” Rhaenyra’s expression changed from one of mild amusement to immediate concern.

“I tried to stop him from doing it but he never listens to me. Just because he’s older, he thinks he can swim to the surface even though I warned him about the humans-“

“Humans? What about humans?” Rhaenyra demanded, gripping her trident harshly and making Luke stop in his tracks.

“Hu-humans? Why mother, who said anything about humans?” He chuckled, glancing away from his mother.

“Luke…” Rhaenyra warned, rising from her throne. “What has your brother been doing? Tell me. Now.”

“I… I don’t know what happened mother. He saw these flames in the sky and he followed them to the surface. I tried to stop him, I promise I did. When he returned the next morning he was a completely different person. Happier. And yet somehow more annoying-“

“Luke…”

“Anyway,” Lucerys cleared his throat. “I asked him what happened and… and…”

“And what? And what, Luke?”

“He said he’d saved… a human…” Lucerys muttered. “A princess.”

“He saved a human? Those murderous savages.” A voice spoke from the shadows.

Lucerys felt his heart sink as he realised he’d failed to notice Daemon’s presence, too focused on trying to protect his brother’s secret from their mother.

“I…” For once, Lucerys had found himself at a loss for words.

“I think that’s everything we need Lucerys… you may leave.” Daemon ordered, but Lucerys stood his ground.

“No. I want to know what you’ll do-“

“Luke, go to your chambers.”

“But, mother-“

“Lucerys. Go.” The sternness of Rhaenyra’s words and the fire within her eyes made Lucerys reluctantly comply, swimming off with his heart sinking at what he’d done.

“Humans? Love? He’s going to get himself killed.” Rhaenyra sighed, looking over at her husband. “What do you suggest I do?”

“The only way we can save Jacaerys is if we rid him of these absurd thoughts. We need to act quickly.”

“I do not want to push him away more than I already have.” Rhaenyra said as Daemon swam over to her, resting a hand on her shoulder.

“If we don’t act now, you’ll lose him to the surface. You of all people know what they do to our kind. He’s your heir, Rhaenyra. Your first born son. To protect him, we may need to hurt him.”

“But, Daemon-“

“Do you want him to resort to extreme solutions like your brother did? Do you want him to suffer that same fate as Aemond? Or turn to him for a solution?”

“Jacaerys isn’t like Aemond in any way. He is not cruel, or cunning like him. He would never seek him out. He knows better.”

“For now.” Daemon replied. “But love can cloud and deceive the mind in ways that can make the greatest of men fall.”

“Vermax, what’s going on?” Jace asked as the small fish attempted to herd him in the direction of the grotto. Jace rolled the stone away, moving forward to enter, but his companion stopped him in his tracks, swimming right up go his face and turning, flicking his tail into Jace’s eyes.

“Ouch! Vermax,” Jace rubbed his eyes, wincing slightly at the small sting. “Okay, it’s that important of a surprise.” He sighed, complying with Vermax’s wishes. “If you wanted me to close my eyes you could just ask nicely.” He muttered, feeling himself being gently nudged slowly into the grotto, his arms held out in front of him in case Vermax decided to steer him into a wall. Again.

Jace had been in his grotto so many times he knew where he was when Vermax moved in front of him again, this time flicking him on the hand to stop him in his tracks.

“Really? Again?” Jace sighed. “At least it was more gentle that time.” He muttered. Vermax nudged his hand, and Jace opened his eyes, letting out a small gasp at the sight in front of him.

There, placed in the centre of his grotto, the new centrepiece of his treasure collection… was your statue. He turned to the small fish, a wide smile growing on his face.

“You’re the best, Vermax,” He grinned, swimming over to the statue. “It’s perfect. How… how did you find this- how did you get this in here?” He asked. “Nevermind, I know I’ll never find out. Oh gods, it’s perfect- she’s perfect. It looks just like her- well, her eyes have more sparkle in real life, and they’re kinder too…”

He swam circles around the statue, analysing every angle. “It really is a work of art,” He murmured, a hand reaching up again to rest on the statue’s stone cold cheek. “If only it were real. Then we could run away from all our troubles… and find a place where we can belong. Don’t you think that would be the best thing, Verm-“ As he turned to address his closest friend, he was instead greeted by the face of his mother. A face that was half concealed by shadows and that was twisted in both sorrow and fury.

“M-mother. I can explain-“

“I think everything is quite clear to me, Jacaerys,” Rhaenyra interrupted, swimming out of the shadows, golden trident glinting in the fading light. Jace felt himself wince at the harshness of her tone when she spoke his full name.

“I consider myself a reasonable mermaid. A reasonable queen. And a reasonable mother,” She continued, her voice although soft in volume, was also cold in time. “I set certain rules to protect my people. To protect you. And I expect those rules to be followed.”

”But, mother, it’s not what you thi-“

“Is it true you rescued a human from drowning?” She demanded. Jace felt his mouth dry up. She knew? Luke… or Syrax, somehow?

“I… I had to. She… she would have died…”

“Contact between the human and mer worlds is strictly forbidden. You know this, everyone knows this. And I thought you of all people should understand this.”

“She would have died mother!”

“And that would only be one less human to worry about,” Daemon spoke up, emerging from the shadows behind Rhaenyra.

“You don’t even know her!” Jace protested, placing himself in front of your statue, as though he was protecting you.

“Know her?” Daemon let out a mocking laugh. “We don’t need to know her.” He snarled. “Humans, they’re all the same. Spineless, savage, harpoon, fish- eaters who are incapable of any feeling-”

“I love her.” Jacaerys blurted out, stopping Daemon in his tracks and making Rhaenyra’s expression morph into one of horror.

“No…” She breathed. “No, Jacaerys it… it cannot be true… have… have you lost your senses completely? You haven’t even met her! She’s human.”

“And you’re a merman.” Daemon sneered.

“I don’t care.” Jace retorted defiantly. “I’ll find a way.”

“Jacaerys, so help me, please do not escalate this.” Rhaenyra warned.

“Escalate it? What can you do mother? I’m not a child anymore!”

“We clearly aren’t getting through to him,” Daemon said. “You know what you have to do, Rhaenyra.”

“W-what’s he talking about, mother?” Jace asked, backing up so he was blocking the statue completely, a weary edge to his tone.

“I need to get through to you Jace,” Rhaenyra’s voice was solemn. “And if this is the only way…” She looked away from her son, raising her arm so the trident was pointing to an upper shelf of the grotto. “…So be it.”

“Mother, don’t!” Jace exclaimed, the realisation finally dawning on him. But it was too late. The trident was now glowing with lightning and flames, casting the grotto in a harsh orange light. Beams shot from the trident, perfectly landing on their targets.

His entire book collection? Gone.

His paintings, his jewellery collection, his candlesticks and compass? Reduced to dust.

Everything, from his gadgets and gizmos to his whozits and whatzits, were completely destroyed.

“Mother, mother please stop,” Jacaerys pleaded, desperately grabbing onto Rhaenyra’s arm, his eyes glassed over with tears threatening to spill at any moment.

But he wasn’t going to give Daemon the satisfaction of letting them fall.

“Mother- mother no, please no!” He yelled, following her gaze to where she aimed the trident at your statue, reducing it to rubble mere seconds later.

Jace let go of his mother, letting himself float to the grotto floor in front of where your statue was standing so proudly moments ago.

Rhaenyra, tore her gaze away from her eldest son, quickly swimming away from the irreparable damage she’d caused, both to herself and Jace. She too didn’t want to let the cracks show. Daemon stayed where he was, admiring the destruction of the treasures created by the beings he despised so.

“If you truly loved the humans, Jacaerys, if you truly wanted to be where you belong, you should go to them,” He said coldly, cruelly. “Because you certainly don’t belong here.”

As Daemon swam from the grotto, followed by his companion, a blood red moray eel called Caraxes, Jace finally let the tears spill, his chest heaving with the sobs that racked through his body.

“Jace…”

“Go away.”

“Jace, I’m sorry-“

“Sorry? Sorry that she destroyed everything?” Jace exclaimed, turning to glare at his younger brother. “Look what she did Luke. Look what Daemon made her do.” He turned away again as his voice cracked, another wave of realisation hitting him that his pride and joy, his wonderful collection that had taken him years to put together, was gone.

And your statue along with it.

“Jace, I didn’t know this was going to happen. I thought you might get in trouble and-“

“Just go away,” He whispered.

Luke hung his head low, reluctantly leaving his brother alone and joining Syrax, Vermax and Arrax, an infant ray who shimmered a pearl white, with the exception of his golden underside and eyes to match. Like Vermax, he was not yet fully grown.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do. I can’t leave him, and… I hate seeing him like this, annoying as he is. It’s all Daemon’s fault, that son of a-“ Lucerys’ ranting was cut off as Syrax pinched his lips between her claw. Before he could prize her off him, a large shadow loomed over the group, and the three sea creatures ushered the younger prince behind a rock, hiding him from sight.

It was an eel, but it was considerably larger than Caraxes, by two times at least. She looked more like some ancient sea serpent, for she was an ancient creature. Her bronze scales that once gleaned brightly had dulled with age, but her eyes still gleamed just as bright, as did the small clusters of blue and green streaked along the top and underside of her body. One eye was a vibrant green, like grass in the height of springtime. The other was an unnaturally vibrant blue, glowing brightly in the night like a sapphire.

Vhagar was surely an fearsome sight to behold.

Lucerys watched the beast slither into the grotto. He went to follow her, but Syrax stopped him by pinching his side.

“I can’t let him be eaten, can I?” He hissed, rubbing the reddened skin. “I have to do something!” He protested, but Syrax and Arrax blocked his path adamantly. Even Vermax was more focused on keeping the younger prince hidden than going to Jace, grabbing long stems of kelp and dropping them over Luke, who brushed them off him immediately.

“You have to let me help him? It’s just some old eel, right?”

Jacaerys had wiped his eyes, but was still staring down at the rubble, not wanting to lift his head to be greeted with the sight of his former grotto, once a proud collection, now reduced to nothing. He didn’t want to cry again.

He let out a deep, shaking breath, trying to slow his hammering heart and calm the tremble in his hands. And yet every time he closed his eyes, all he saw was the princess he saved.

“Mijegindita riña… Mijegindita dōna riña…”[Poor child… poor sweet child…]

Jace’s head shot up to be greeted with the sight of Vhagar circling him like a constrictor about to suffocate it’s prey, her blue eye glowing violently in the darkness. He recognised the language as High Valyrian, the ancient language of merfolk. But he was far from a fluent speaker. In fact, he was rather terrible.

“I-I’m sorry I… I don’t fully understand…”

“It seems as though you have a very serious problem… if only there was something that could be done…”

The beast continued, this time in a modern tongue. Her voice was more of a deep, ancient rumble, coming from within. She didn’t move her mouth when she spoke, but Jace saw the glinting of those dagger like teeth. It was as though she were a vessel for someone else to speak to him. As though someone was speaking through her.

“Perhaps there is something that could be done for you…” Vhagar continued, circling closer and closer around Jace, turning her head towards him so he could clearly see her in the silvery glow of the moon above.

“I… I know you…” Jace breathed, and she retreated back into the inky murkiness of the shadows. “But that’s impossible… you… you and him… you were both banished… after what happened with- with Luke…”

He was only young when his uncle Aemond was banished, and Lucerys was too young to properly remember everything, but the memories still stuck with the elder prince vividly. He remembered the glint of the blade in the torchlight, he remembered Lucerys lunging at Aemond, and the young man’s screams wailing through the kingdom.

That was many years ago. Over a decade.

“Don’t be scared…” The voice spoke. “I represent the person who can help you. Someone who can make all your dreams come true…”

“I don’t think-“

“Just imagine-“ The voice cut him off, Vhagar’s head slithered past him, that piercing blue eye focused entirely on the prince. “You and your princess. Together, forever.” There was a slight mocking edge to the voice as it spoke, making Jace frown.

“No… no I can’t.” Jace faltered, knowing the offer, although tempting, was surely tainted with something far more sinister in return.

“Aemond has become incredibly powerful. He can use his power to help you...”

That stopped Jace in his tracks. He’d heard the rumours of his depraved uncle turning to dark magic in his exile. Some said he’d saught out the sea witch, Alys Rivers, who had mysteriously vanished months after his banishment.

“No I... I couldn’t possibly go to him. No. Get out of here! Leave me alone!” He exclaimed, lunging forwards and out of Vhagar’s reach to sit on one of his now empty ledges and facing away from the beast.

”Suit yourself,” The voice said as Vhagar retreated. “It was only a suggestion.” As she left, her tail flicked upwards, causing your statue’s face, still somehow intact unlike the rest of the statue, to land beside Jace. He reached over and picked it up, cradling it in his arms, Daemon’s words echoing over and over again in his mind.

“If you truly loved the humans, Jacaerys, if you truly wanted to be where you belong, you should go to them…”

“…Because you certainly don’t belong here.”

And for once, Jacaerys agreed with Daemon.

He was his mother’s heir, and yet he had no qualities of being a king. He wasn’t studious, or particularly charismatic in the eyes of the people. He did his royal duties when he remembered, but he had never aspired to be a king.

He remembered every little slip up, every time he’d been late to an event, every time he’d disappointed his mother and his siblings. Even little Viserys and Aegon could do a better job that he could. Even Luke with his mischievous ways, and young Joffrey, carried out their tasks to perfection. And his sisters, Baela and Rhaena were born to lead.

He wasn’t born for that.

He didn’t belong.

When he watched you on that ship, when he watched the people celebrate your birthday, and dance and sing and tell stories, he felt more at home. Like he could belong.

Daemon was right.

His mind was made up.

He was going to see Aemond.

“Wait!” He called out, and Vhagar’s face loomed into view once again.

“Take me to him.”

A/N: I know, I know, and I’m sorry to the Aemond girlies who are disappointed he didn’t show up. But I can promise you that he will be centre stage throughout most of Part Two

Masterlist

Tag list:

@thekittyxo-blog @iamavailablesstuff @eggofpower @thatbitchanna27 @aleemendoza2425-blog @ekavamonfort @rhaenattargaryen @ewwwitsel @marytargaryen @snowprincesa1

If you want to be added to the tag list for this story feel free to ask

#Aemond Targaryen x reader #Aemond Targaryen #Jacaerys Velaryon x reader #Jacaerys Velaryon #Jacaerys Velaryon x reader x Aemond Targaryen #House of the dragon x reader #House of the dragon #Aemond Targaryen imagine #Jacaerys Velaryon imagine #House of the dragon imagine

351 notes · View notes

aria-chicken-flugget · 1 year

Text

Dinner with the Birches

Judd x Fem!Reader

Rated Mature for strong sexual language and content MINORS* Please do not read/interact

Fic length: 3.8k words

Warnings: Mentions Knife Play, Pet Play and Choking (Those cheeky Hormone Monsters eh ;) eyebrows eyebrows~)

Summary: You're invited to dinner with the Birches, a very loving, kind and sex positive household. How will you fare as an easily embarrassed teen who just so happens to be crushing on their eldest son...

A/N: This is my first piece for Big Mouth! Cross posted from my ao3 account under the same title. Fic under the cut, enjoy :3

“Di-Dinner? I mean, are you… are you sure that that’s cool?”

You chuckled nervously, absently circling the hem of your new, hot pink shirt between your thumb and forefinger. Leah threw her head back with a laugh before checking her nails,

“Oh my God, (y/n), you forget how my parents let just about anything come for dinner.”

A horrifying flashback of Jay Bilzerian giving them post-its for dinner came to mind, with a quick roll of her eyes at the memory and a smile towards you, “You are of course more than fine, they love you.”

You took a breath and offered another soft laugh, shaking your head,

“You’re totally right, they’re… they’re really sweet. I guess I just feel bad, it’ll be my third time in a row.”

Smiling softly to yourself at the thought. You checked yourself out in your floor length mirror, smile growing as you twisted your hips to check each angle of yourself,

“I really like the shape that this shirt gives me.”

“Omg! You look amazing, it really accentuates your waist and curves.”

She gave a wink and you both laughed,

“Thanks Leah!”

Connie chimed in from atop of your bed with crossed ankles,

“I just love women building up women! You two are as good as your big, beautiful boobahs in that shirt, baby~”

You flushed with a whine,

“Connie!”

Rolling your eyes some, unable to deny it and allowing a small smirk. She had a point, your boobs did look pretty good in your new shirt. Connie’s brows wiggled comically with a low and velvet tone,

“I bet Judd’s gonna love the shirt ~”

Lilting his name in emphasis. Your cheeks begun heating up, your wide eyes flit to Leah, as if afraid you were about to be caught out. Fortunately, she couldn’t hear Connie and was distracted by her phone. You waved your hands dismissively at Connie with a low hiss,

“Connie please, the guy’s a total psycho-“

Sounding unconvincing even in your own ears. Realistically on a personal level, you only knew what you had heard of him from Leah. You knew in yourself that you were rationalizing with an excuse and worst of all, so did Connie. Connie kept gushing,

“He’s gonna love it so much that he’ll wanna tear it right off of ya, and then tie you up to the bedposts with the pretty pink shreds, OOH Baby!~”

Raising a hand to her forehead in a dramatic sweep and squirming with a laugh to herself. Your cheeks were bright red as you whined,

“Connie! Would you quit it?”

Folding your arms across your chest as you tried desperately not to imagine being tied up by Judd…

“I hardly know him, Con. Besides he’s Leah’s brother, it’d be totally weird to think of him in that way.”

Emphasizing with a nervous chuckle, but it seemed your randy hormone monstress was keen on ignoring you,

“Ooh ooh what if he does it shirtless? Please God let shirtless Judd tie her up - We loveee a shirtless Judd, he is hotter than the fireworks comin’ out of my pussy on the fourth of July!”

“Oh God, Connie! Please do not go on, I do not want to know how that feels.”

You shook your head vehemently, facepalming. Ah fuck… now you can’t stop thinking about shirtless Judd.

“Do you remember when we saw shirtless Judd for the first time, after he sharpened his knives out back, smellin’ like woodchips and cigarettes? Whew baby~”

Connie held her chin in her hands as she playfully kicked her hoofs back and forth atop of the bed, opposite Leah who was thankfully none the wiser and still on her phone. Your hands felt clammy, you swiped them against the jean of your thighs. Swallowing a cotton ball and ignoring the balmy feeling of your flushed chest, you fanned yourself with a forced laugh,

“Whew… is it warm in here?”

Leah peered up from her phone,

“Hmm? I don’t think so. Oh wait, we should probably get going soon, Mom says dinner’s gonna be ready in a half hour.”

***

The front door swung open to a beaming Elliot Birch,

“If it isn’t the wonderful (y,n)! What a pleasure it is to see you again. Please, please come in!”

Gesturing with a sweep of his arm as he stood aside, you offered a bright smile,

“It’s lovely to see you again too, Dr. Birch.”

Smile widening at his ‘This Apron’s a Feminist’ apron. What an icon. Leah appeared bored, rolling her eyes half heartedly as she breezed inside past the both of you. Smirking,

“God Dad, do you have to be so corny every time? You saw her yesterday.”

“Well when in the presence of excellence one simply must, especially if that’s everyday~.”

He held his clasped hands to his chest with a soft sigh. You felt warmth in your chest at the kindness of your best friend’s Dad. He was like a pseudo parent, with enough light and love for all. You allowed a flattered giggle, but any other thoughts stopped dead as Judd turned the corner with his shirt over his shoulder. Abs and lean muscles glistening with a sheen of sweat. His trademark scowl upon you at the door, he gave a grunt of recognition,

“Hey.”

Flicking his knife in an effortless swish. Trying to ignore Connie going nuts behind you - and dare you admit, ignoring a fluttering in your stomach - all you could manage was a,

“Uh –“

Mouth open in a small ‘o’ for a dumb moment, fortunately Diane’s voice sounded from the kitchen and saved you from an awkward moment longer,

“Judd hurry up hon, dinner’ll be ready soon.”

His scowl somehow deepened with another grunt. Scorching emerald eyes met yours and the intensity behind them winded you. Was that a smirk? It happened too quickly for you to really tell, and before you could register it, he was stalking the stairs two at a time. You were left watching his taut back muscles with your mouth hung open as Elliot giggled with Leah. Connie was trying to tell you that he really did like the shirt after all, but you were too busy trying to clear your throat and come back down to Earth. You took a deep sigh, trying to cover it with a glance around the Birch family home, and distracting yourself with the pleasant aroma of a home cooked meal. You felt yourself tense, feeling curious eyes on you still. Ah shit, Leah and her Dad were right there, weren't they. They hadn’t witnessed your fluster, surely? Hopefully? And now you had to get through an entire dinner with Judd across the way… You could feel Connie’s eyebrows wiggling from where she nestled herself onto your shoulder, lashes fluttering. God Dammit, Connie.

***

“Uhh uhhh fuck, (y/n) looked so fucking good in that tight little shirt. That pretty pink fabric - her tits were practically popping out, what a little cock tease~”

Maury mused in a gravelly voice, Judd blanking him as he flung the knife in his hand at his target on the wall. Bullseye. Maury perched on the edge of the bed with an excited bounce,

“Bullseye! Judd, hey Judd – what if you used one of those knives in some knife play, huh? D’you think (y,n)’s into knife play? OOH what if you used one of your knives to slowly cut away her pretty shirt and, and just fucking motorboat those puppies haha. I tried that last week at a sex party with John Stamos heh-“

“Stop. Fucking. Talking.”

Judd interrupted with a low rasp, jabbing a knife in his direction as a warning. Then stalking away to the bathroom to shower before dinner. Hopefully the water can wash away his thoughts.

“Maybe you could beat one out in the shower before seeing those perfect tits again at dinner. OR, even better – skip dinner, bring her upstairs and plow her ‘til your shooting blanks!”

Judd growled a guttural sound at the silhouette outside the shower curtain, dangerously low. Rubbing his eyes under the hot water. Maury’s low chuckle emanated against the walls of his mind,

“Oho ho ho hoh it’s gone straight to your balls-“

“Next time you speak, I’ll stab you.”

Fuck you, Maury.

***

You were sat next to Leah with their parents heading the table, leaving you sitting opposite Nick and Judd. The room was quiet save for the clinking of cutlery on plates and rhythmic stabbing of Judd’s knife upon his plate. Anytime you peered over at him you felt your cheeks grow warm, and so were quick to avert your gaze. Hoping to distract yourself, you broke the silence,

“Thank you for having me over again, Dr and Mrs Birch.”

“Oh please, call me Diane, (y/n).”

“It’s a pleasure as always, (y/n) and please call me Elliot.”

Judd stole a glance your way to see your sweet smile, your bashful gaze turned to your food as you were tucking a stray lock of soft hair behind your ear. He soon returned to stabbing his plate. Leah’s sly smile grew as she observed the two of you, looking rather pleased with herself as she popped some food between her lips. Nick seemed to be ignoring everyone, head in his palm as he poked noncommittally at his food. Diane placed her cutlery down with a gentle voice,

“What’s the matter, Nicky?”

“Ahh, ’s nothing. Fought with Andrew.”

Elliot chimed in with concern,

“Oh no, what did you fight about?”

“Which one’s gonna fuck who, next?”

Judd interjected with that casual rasp, earning a light scold from his parents and you’d choked on your food. Nick whined,

“Shut up, Judd!”

He offered a sinister chuckle,

“What, worried he won’t feel your little dick if you did it?”

“Judder butter, play nice please, we have company.”

Elliot gestured towards you, who was being whacked on the back by Leah in an effort to stop your coughing. You waved them off good naturedly, eyes streaming as you wheezed,

“I’m alright, really.”

“Besides, it’s not the size of the boat but the motion of the ocean.”

Elliot flourished. You tried to laugh it off to cover your wheezing cough from returning, gulping down your water. Breathless, you managed with a coerced smile,

“Does your family always talk about penis every time you have dinner?”

“Sometimes we talk about other genitals too.”

Leah sounded almost bored, entirely desensitized to it. Your brows downturned with another nervous chuckle. Catching Judd’s serious gaze on you, you immediately glanced away with a deep flush. Elliot laced his fingers as he addressed the table,

“As you may know, (y/n) we’re a very sex positive household. We don’t want our beautiful children to feel any shame when it comes to something perfectly natural, such as us normalizing small penises -”

“Oh sure yea, let’s completely forget about my problems and talk about genitals again.”

Nick muttered under his breath. Elliot reached for his youngest son’s hand,

“Nicky, having a small penis is nothing to be ashamed of, don’t let anyone get to you about it.”

You could feel yourself tensing, eyes wide as your gaze flit around the table, lips taut as if sewn shut. Elliot finished with a honeyed tone,

“Whether you decide to be intimate with Andrew or not, anyone would be lucky to be with you.”

Judd chuckled lowly as Nick whined in protest,

“I don’t want to fuck Andrew! Argh, gross.”

“Elliot, honey, maybe we should try to talk about something else?”

Diane offered, sensing the table dynamics being thrown for a loop. Elliot kissed the back of her soft palm with a smile,

“Alright, sweetheart, anything for you~. Leah, (y/n), how’re rehearsals going for your new play?”

“Oh they’re going great so far, actually, thank you. We got the leads, we’re sisters in the show.”

You chirped, beaming as bright as the sun getting to talk about what you loved and best of all, you would get to work with your best friend. If you had a magnifying glass, or if you were in fact even paying attention to it at all, you may have been able to see Judd’s lips curve into a pleasant arc. Decidedly less menacing than usual. Maury and his gaggle of penises would be having a field day. Elliot beamed,

“Oh that’s wonderful!”

“Oh God what about that scene we have to rehearse for, tomorrow though? Talk about annoying.”

Leah mused, you turned to her with lightly knotted brows,

“Which one?”

“The one with Daniel – ugh. I think they’re still making your scene together an interpretative sex scene.”

“Wh-what?”

“Ew wait, Head Pusher?”

Nick screwed up his face in disgust as he asked, Judd stopped stabbing the table. You were too busy tensing up with an unpleasant feeling crawling up your spine to notice. Elliot chimed in,

“'Head Pusher?' Should we be concerned about this young person?”

“Nick said I slashed his tires.”

“Right before Nick was sick in his hat, ha.”

Leah interjected with a laugh so that it was uncertain whether anyone had actually heard Judd’s criminal offense. You whispered to her,

“Do your parents know about that party?”

“Oh it’s fine, we got grounded for it, they know.”

“Oh okay hah.. ha..”

You tried a laugh but all this oversharing was… odd for you, to say the least. Not to mention the discomfort seeping into your lower abdomen at the thought of having any kind of scene with Daniel the Head Pusher.

“Yes I was… sick in his hat haha ha..”

Nick rubbed the back of his neck as he caught Diane’s narrowed gaze before he shot out,

“But at least I didn’t cum in the living room, that’s the worst thing to happen in that room.”

“Worst thing so far -”

“That was your friend. Your friend came in the living room.”

Leah pointed out with a scoff, her fork pointing his way, once more over shadowing Judd’s ominous threat. Judd was chuckling to himself at the news,

“Ha, Nice.”

All the while you had some salad lodged in your throat again, bobbing up and down unable to get it down. Nick uttered to himself, surprised,

“That wasn’t supposed to reflect badly on me, I don’t really know what to say now.”

“Does Andrew have a bigger penis? Is that what’s been upsetting you, Nicky?”

Elliot took his son’s hand again, voice rung true with concern despite the nature of the question stirring different reactions from the table. Nick slid his hand out from his father’s grasp as if he’d burned to the touch,

“Oh God Dad, no!-“

“His chode is bigger than your little dinger though, bet.”

“Fuck you, Judd!”

“Well someone should- and that someone is you~“

Connie muttered in your ear, almost making you jump out of your seat. Leah offered,

“Nick girls don’t care about penis size as much as guys do.”

“This wasn’t even what I was talking about! You all assumed and started talking about dicks!-“

“You know pleasure isn’t always strictly penetration, in fact I’d argue the opposite –“

Diane began and you’d finally swallowed the lodged food. You stopped trying to eat in favour of rubbing the tense spot on your brow,

“Oy vey-”

“Oh totally, but the effort in trying is better than a fucking head pusher, gross.”

“Hear that, Nick? You’ll get points for trying - if you can actually find someone that wants to hook up with you first, haha.”

“Is it so bad that he hasn’t uh.. done that stuff yet? I mean he’s still young, we all are… still young. Young and pressured ha ha... ha.”

You found yourself interjecting Judd’s low sting in a ramble, cheeks growing warmer by the minuet as it tumbled out like word vomit. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Judd after catching his unreadable gaze. Lately when you looked at Judd and caught his thousand yard stare, it made you feel things in the pit of your stomach that you only really seemed to hear about. Leah quirked a blonde brow at Judd’s response, or lack of one thereof. Diane smiled at you,

“I think that’s true, too. There’s a lot of pressure on young people to do things they may not even be ready for.”

“I hope no one’s ever made you feel that way, (y/n).”

Elliot once again with concern ringing true in his tone and intent, but only causing your shoulders to tense with a flush crawling up to your ears. You cleared your throat in an effort to even your voice,

“N-no no, not at all, thank you uh, for your concern haha I am just swell.”

Jesus Christ, swell? That’s what I’m going for? Well, too late now. Your held your arms with your head hung in a dip, Elliot was ready to preach to you about loving yourself when it was likely the last thing you needed in that moment. Judd seized you up from across the table, scowl deepening before eyeing his parents. He was quick to pluck the balsamic dressing bottle up, and tossed it over at Nick’s head,

“Hey Nick, think fast.”

“Ow Judd, what the fuck? What was that for, asshole?”

He chuckled that low sinister laugh at the connection the bottle made to his brother’s head,

“I told you, I’m an agent of chaos, you little scrunt.”

Nick rubbed the spot with a whine before slapping Judd’s arm. Diane raised her voice some,

“Judd! - Boys, stop that right now!”

“I need to get the fuck to college.”

Leah held her head in her hands for a moment, meeting your gaze between her fingers,

“Please tell me you’re finished with dinner, we can hang out upstairs if you are.”

***

After some time with Leah in her room, you were on your way out when a sweet chittering sounded by your feet,

“Hmm?”

A racoon had weaved itself between your ankles with it's excitable trill. You simply bubbled with laughter as you crouched down to meet it, any prior nerves melting away as the little racoon let you pet their fluffy head. It bumped its head up into your hand as you pet it, stroking between their eyes with your index finger,

“Well aren’t you sweet! You seem uh pretty domesticated for a wild animal?”

“Raccoons can’t be fully domesticated -"

“Jesus!”

"-but apparently they’re pretty good at catering small events.”

You shot up at the sound of Judd’s velvet voice coming out of nowhere from behind you, hand flying to your chest. Judd seemingly unfazed by the outburst had continued over it. His lips curled in an impish smirk. The racoon that was perched in your hand had fled behind Judd’s calf with a warbled chitter. Your lips curving in an unexpected smile as you met Judd’s dark smirk,

“We should get a bell on you or something, you scared the shit out of me. That was some Adam's family bullshit right there.”

“Ugh fuck, she’s into pet play? Please tell me she’s into pet play and wants to put a pretty bell collar on you or, or on herself, Mmmngh~”

Maury was still foaming at the mouth in the background, Judd grunted at him but made to ignore him as his slight smirk fell on you,

“You’re one to talk, your dumbass dramatic reaction just scared the little guy.”

Your attention drawing back to the little fella chittering from behind Judd’s leg. You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress your smile as you did. Folding your arms with a quirked brow at Judd, before crouching down once more with a gentle smile,

“I’m sorry little one –“

Maury opened his mouth to speak as you began leaning down with that open collar, Judd glared at him murderously,

"Don't even think about it."

Before you could get into your apology, the fluffy racoon seemed to have immediately forgiven you. They hopped right into your arms, making you giggle in delight,

“Well alright then~”

“God she’s as bright as the sun, that usually disgusts us in a person.”

Maury rubbed his furry chin in thought, observing (y/n) with the racoon. After a moment more of laughter, you realized Judd was observing you with a quizical brow. You cleared your throat and stood tall, scratching the back of your head,

“Anyway, I uh.. I should be heading off now. It was nice to meet you um..?”

“Cookie. That one’s Cookie.”

You could hardly suppress your smile at the name, biting down on your plush lips,

“Cookie. Unexpectedly cute.”

“Just like Judd~”

Connie wiggled her brows with a seductive lilt, to which you rolled your eyes. Judd was no where near ‘cute’… but you couldn’t deny that learning small things like this about him made you smile, and spread an unexpected warmth through your chest. Judd allowed a small smirk,

“Cute? You don’t know why they’re called that.”

That near psychotic smile matched with that low husk made you question your initial analysis. Either way you chuckled softly, tucking your hair behind your ear with a confident smile,

“Then maybe you should tell me about it sometime.”

That stopped his smirk short, his brows raised as his lips parted in a small ‘o’. Your own smile dropped at his response. Oh shit, did I say something wrong? Before he could respond, Leah emerged from her room,

“Oh, (y/n) you’re still here?”

Judd grunted with a deepened frown, side eyeing Leah as he heard her voice from behind him. Your rosy cheeks and bright eyes met hers with a faintly opened mouth, as if about to speak. Leah leant against her door frame as she mused in a lilt,

“Well it’s dark now, I don’t think you should go home alone –“

“I’ll drive you.”

Leah smiled with raised brows, I didn’t even have to finish~

“Oh ok, are you s-sure? Thanks.”

Judd grunted in response,

“Yea, common.”

Fishing his keys from a surprise compartment behind a painting.

“Be safe, kids~”

Leah winked at you from her doorframe, you caught it as you peered over Judd’s shoulder before heading down the stairs.

“Oh Shit - Leah knows you wanna bump beautifuls with her sexy jungle cat of a brother!”

“Wait what?! I thought she meant ‘be safe’ because he drives like a maniac?”

“Oh my sweet summer child-“

Connie cradled you in her anthropomorphic hair arms without any space between you, you kept inhaling her fur. You felt like you were a dog toy being squeezed. You tapped her furry side,

“Uh, Con.. Connie – can’t breathe!”

She let you go with a small apology, watching as Judd met the bottom of the stairs, grunting at you in a way that prompted your frozen limbs to move again. Connie lilted,

“I’ll let Judd do the chokin’ baby~”

Ah fuck… now you’re fantasizing about fucking in the back of his car.

#Judd Birch x Reader #Judd Birch #Big Mouth #Judd x Reader #fanfiction #fanfic #light smut #Dinner with the Birches #tw: knife play mention #tw: pet play mention #tw: choking mention

2K notes · View notes

joaniejustwokeup · 1 year

Text

Decided to make this prompt it’s own post- originally based off @noir-renard’s tags on this photo post:

I had an idea for where it could go…

Jason uses Bruce’s account to bid on the car.

Danny uses Vlad’s account to bid on it.

They drive up the price ridiculously high.

Danny wants the car to go on a summer road trip/ college tour with Sam and Tucker.

Jason wants to use it to pick up his brothers from work and school to embarrass them. He’s sure he can convince Alfred to let him be the designated chauffeur for a bit.

Danny just barely places the winning bid in time.

When he gets the car he tricks it out with a bunch of anti-theft and especially anti-ghost security measures. No way he’s letting Johnny or Technus or some other random ghost steal it from him, this car is his. He also adds special storage for ectoplasm and ecto-dejecto, since they’ll be on the road for a bit, but also in case there’s an emergency and they need to get out of town fast. And then they’re off on their summer adventure!

They stop in Gotham to check out Gotham University, and because Sam love the aesthetic and Tucker loves Wayne Tech, leaving their car in a lot frequented by tourists.

While he’s out on patrol Jason suddenly sees THE FUCKING CAR!!! Holy shit it must be destiny. Fuck it, Red Hood is stealing a car today because dammit this was supposed to be his janky-ass dead guy car. He’s gonna reclaim his undead honor and this shitty car if it’s the last thing he does. Only one problem. The car immediately zaps him, knocks him out, and soups him with the automatic thermos the second he touches it (what’s this? A halfa Jason Todd au??? Oh dear!).

Danny, Sam, and Tucker return none the wiser, having had a great day touring the city and the university’s campus. But soon they’re back on the road, having a couple more weeks of travel and touring campuses planned. They finally return to Amity Park, and it’s only then that Danny realizes the car had captured some random ghost while they were on the road. At least it looked like the car had fed them from the ectoplasm storage while they travelled, so they should be healed of any souping-related injuries.

Danny decides to release them in his royal keep in the Infinite Realms (AND a ghost king Danny au? wow who would’ve thought), so that he can have Wulf on hand to portal the ghost back to their haunt if they mean no harm, or contain them in the Ghost Zone if they turn out to be violent.

Jason is spewed out of that freaky thermos into a throne room of black marble, surrounded by glowing, translucent beings. Everything has a Lazarus-green glow, and something deep in his chest seems to be humming in recognition, like a tuning fork resonating with an entire orchestra (is that how tuning forks work? Jason doesn’t fucking know).

Above him floats a teenager in a black and white jumpsuit accented with pieces of medieval armor and a cloak lined with swirling stars and nebulae. Atop his snow white hair sits an obsidian crown bathed in green flames, the same bright Lazarus green as the boy’s eyes. He’s holding the thermos almost sheepishly, looking at Jason in shocked amazement.

“Holy fucking shit- I SOUPED RED HOOD??? RED HOOD’S A GHOST?!?!?”

Meanwhile, the Batfamily has been frantically looking for Red Hood for weeks now. No one knows where he’s gone- his tracker showed him traveling from state to state seemingly at random, before stopping and disappearing entirely. His last tracked location was in a small midwestern town called Amity Park.

#dpxdc #dpxdc writing prompt #janky dead guy car au #halfa jason todd #ghost king au #free to use #my writing

835 notes · View notes

crowborn666-nsfw · 6 months

Text

Scales

Leviathan x Fem!Reader

Tags: inexperienced!reader, envious Levi, AFAB anatomy, use of Levi’s tail, Levi has a forked tongue, oral (reader receiving)

~~~~~~

Your phone has been going off for an hour now, texts from the brothers on whatever nonsense had captured their attention that they wished to share with you. Leviathan, on the other hand, scowled with each notification, hands gripping his controller tight.

You were none the wiser of his jealousy until you felt his tail wrap around your ankle.

“Levi? What’s wrong?”

He grumbled under his breath, setting aside his controller. “They want all your attention.”

You realized what was wrong then, turning to put your phone on silent.

“I put it on silent, does that help?”

“Why do you even hang out with a yucky otaku like me?” He continued to sulk, avoiding your gaze like a petulant child. You couldn’t help but giggle at him, leaning forward to peck his cheek.

“That’s why.”

Leviathan spluttered, going red in the face. “Y-You can’t just sneak attack me like that! Th-That’s unfair!”

“Then why don’t you make it fair?” You challenged, grinning at him.

Only for that grin to be wiped off your face as he leaned in to plant a kiss to your lips. Now it was your turn to go red, your hands clutching onto Leviathan’s hoodie.

You both separated, gentle silence filling the room before you lurched forward, pressing a sloppy, inexperienced kiss onto Leviathan’s face. He steadied you both, brain malfunctioning at your action.

Up until your phone, despite being silenced, buzzed again.

Leviathan pushed you down onto his couch, drawing a gasp from you. Your eyes met his, full of envy and desire.

Leviathan swallowed your surprised moan, hooking his arms under you as your back arched. The tip of his tail had snaked into your shorts, pressing into your clit and rolling it in small circles.

“Levi!” You gasped and moaned, hips bucking against his tail.

“Gonna… gonna get you off with just my tail,” he proclaimed, eyes glowing orange as he picked up the pace, “None of the others can do that, can they?”

“N-No, no they ca-aah!”

Levi swallowed your sounds, his hot breath mingling with yours as his forked tongue invaded your mouth. You whimpered as pleasure shot through you, your hands digging into Leviathan’s back. You writhed underneath him, face burning bright red as you felt yourself come undone.

As you panted underneath him, Leviathan’s eyes widened as he realized the position you both were in. He began to stutter out apologies, only stopping when you grabbed the front of his hoodie to stop him from backing away.

“More Levi! Please! More!”

Your begging and another buzz from your phone was all it took for that switch to flip inside Leviathan once again. Leviathan dove to kiss you, his hands and tail wrapping around your waist. Your hands dug into his hair, moaning and shuddering as his forked tongue smoothed over yours.

Leviathan’s fingers dipped below the waistband of your shorts, pulling them away as he kissed down your body. You watched him with red cheeks and wide eyes, shuddering with each kiss and nip pressed to your inner thighs.

“L-Levi—”

“Can I taste you?” He asked, meeting your gaze as he sucked a purple bruise into your thigh.

Words were caught in your throat, and with another nip from Leviathan you gave a nod.

He was on you in an instant, forked tongue sliding through your folds with a lewd sound. Your hands found his hair and horns, holding on for dear life as Leviathan ate you out like a starved man. You squirmed under him, not used to this odd feeling between your legs.

As his tongue slipped into you, the end of his tail slithered around your thigh to rub circles on your clit. You moaned loudly, hips bucking towards him from the pleasure.

It wasn’t long until he had you coming undone a second time, Leviathan moaning at the sudden rush of your taste on his tongue.

He pulled back to let you catch your breath, licking up the traces of you from his chin.

“A-Are you alright?”

A glance towards him showed his reddened face, badly hidden behind a hand.

“I’m okay.” You replied, reaching out to him with grabby hands. “I want more, please?”

If Leviathan’s face could get any redder. He felt like he was dreaming, like he’d been placed into one of his mangas.

Then your phone buzzed again.

#obey me #obey me smut #obey me leviathan #leviathan x reader #obey me levi x reader #obey me levi smut

319 notes · View notes

holdmytesseract · 3 months

Text

moodboard by @chennqingg <3 | divider by @jiyaxedits <3

Through The Years

Jotun!King!Loki Laufeyson x fem!Æsir!Queen!Reader

Summary: This story takes you and Loki on a journey through the twins life. From their first steps all the way to their first time falling in love.

Warnings for this Chapter: bit angst? sad/slightly desperate Loki, drama, yelling? fluff

Word Count: 3k

a/n: This chapter is a very important one, I'd say. After all, we are going to find out who is going to be the heir to the throne! 👀

Also, I thought I post this today, because it's Tomathy's birthday! 🥳🥰

Tags: @eleniblue @muddyorbsblr @mochie85 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jaidenhawke @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @multifandom-worlds @huntedmusicgardenn @lokiforever @captain-camille @lokisgoodgirl @smolvenger @hisredheadedgoddess28 @glitchquake @chennqingg @icytrickster17 @princess-ofthe-pages @crimson25 @buttercupcookies-blog @elegantcheesecakecrown @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @loz-3 @herdetectivetheorist @simping-for-marvel @km-ffluv @stupidthoughtsinwriting @jennyggggrrr @lady-rose-moon @salvinaa @lovingchoices14 @irishhappiness @sheris532 @princessdragon23 @xxannyxx

❄️ Chapter Three ❄️ Chapter Five ❄️

Ice Flower AU Masterlist ❄ Loki Masterlist ❄ Masterlist

Chapter Four - The Crown Prince

"What bothers you, my king?" You asked your husband in a soft, hushed voice - not to startle him. He was standing on the big balcony of your shared chambers, gazing into distance. Loki and the landscape to his feet were bathed in bright, soft blue moonlight; illuminating the dark. Summers on Jotunheim were beautiful, you learned. Some might would not expect this, but it was true. It wasn't super warm though, unlike on Asgard. Warm enough to grow crops and such, but that was it. Certainly not warm enough to run around naked - at least for you. While Loki stood there in nothing but his sleep loincloth, you were tightly wrapped up in your Asgardian dressing gown - plus some warm fur slippers. The nights were colder anyway.

"Is it what I think it is?" You questioned him further; now wrapping your hands around his strong torso; hugging him from behind. "The announcement?" You felt how Loki took a deep breath and sighed, "Yes, my queen." before he put his big hands on your smaller ones. "I... I am afraid I made the wrong decision and..." You ran your thumb in a caressing manner over the bulging muscles of his abs. "And?" He swallowed. "I never wanted to choose. I knew from the moment they were born that I had to one day, but... I never wanted to carry this burden. Why cannot decide someone else? The people? Or our advisors?" You sighed as well, knowing how bad he felt. "I know, my love, I know, but... Unfortunately, it's the king's decision. It always was; always will be." He scoffed, clearly affected by all this. "I remember that day... Clearly. Father chose Thor. Being the first born was to his advantage, but... Nevertheless, Odin would've chosen my brother. He believed he was the better king. Wiser. More mature. I accepted it - and in the end, I'm glad he didn't choose me. Because if he had, who knows if our paths ever crossed? I doubt it." The king squeezed your hands gently; loving - bathing in your embrace. "Well, I am glad, too, love. I am lucky to call you my queen now - and wife. I wouldn't want any other princess. Just you. Always you..." He muttered, pausing. "But this is different... Our boys are twins. No first born. No one of them has an advantage. By the norns, I wouldn't even want that... We always treated them equally - how it should be and now... Now I am forced to favour one of them. As a father, this is cruel."

Your heart broke at his words. You knew very well how he must feel. It wasn't fair - but that was a burden of being alive... Sometimes it was just not fair. "I know, my love, I know," you whispered and pressed a lingering kiss on the soft skin of his bare back. "I find this just as cruel as you do. Parents shouldn't have to ever put one child over the others and it's just not fair, but... Life unfortunately isn't fair..." You spoke the words on your mind, but stopped to press another reassuring kiss on his skin. "You need to remind yourself that this is a decision you make as a king. Not as a father." You could hear your husband swallowing again, before he turned in your embrace and lowered his upper body, in order to press his forehead against yours. "Should I mirror your words in front of them? Tell Áki and Váli that I'd never make this decision as a father, but have to as a king?" You nodded. "Yes. I think it would be important for them to know." Another deep sigh left your husband's lips. "I hope they'll understand... I don't know what to do if they don't."

You loosened your grip around his torso and lifted your hands to cup his cheeks; giving Loki a soft smile. "They'll understand. I know they will." The king nodded, squeezed his eyes shut and held you even closer. You let him, of course, enjoyed the tight embrace you were in.

"Let's go to bed, my king, shall we?" "Yes." You led Loki back to your marital bed then, sunk together with him in the sheets and held him close. It was just what he needed that night. The undying, unshakeable love and support of his wife.

Nevertheless, didn't have Loki a restful night. He tossed and turned from time to time; thoughts running wild inside his head. That was the reason why he was up quite early; watching the sun rise over Jotunheim.

You woke up with the sun as well; sleepy eyes searching for your husband. "Loki?" "Over here, my love." Your eyes followed his voice. He was sitting on the settee in front of the empty fireplace; gaze settled on you. "Good morning, darling." You smiled sleepy; stretching your limbs. "Good morning." You could feel his beautiful ruby eyes on you; watching you with an overwhelming amount of love and gentleness. But when your gaze met his, you could also see how troubled he was. Still. Your expression softened. "C'mere, my love." Reaching out your hand towards him, you waited for him to take it.

It only took him a few seconds to bridge the distance between the settee and bed; eagerly taking your hand into his and intertwining your fingers. You pulled him gently closer, until his legs hit the edge of the bed and he had no other choice but to lean down. With a soft, loving smile, you caught his lips with yours; kissing him lazily. Loki's eyes fluttered shut; heart beating faster. He'd never get tired of kissing you. Never.

"Have you decided yet?" Your sweet voice urged to his ears; pulling the king down on the harsh reality. Perhaps he got lost in your eyes for a few moments... With a deep sigh he nodded, "I have, yes." and told you this important decision.

"What do you think of it? Do I... Do I make the right choice, my queen?" Loki was so uncertain and troubled. You'd even go as far and say that he was afraid. So, you tried your best to comfort him. Just like you did last night. "I'd say you do, yes." You said honestly, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "He'll make a great further king. I am convinced by that."

Mere hours later, the king of Jotunheim was in his throne room, sitting upon his throne. His leg bounced nervously up and down; he definitely felt the burden of the upcoming event on his shoulders, weighing him down. Like hypnotized, he stared on the big doors, waiting for them to open - which they did only a few minutes later, revealing two guards and his twin sons. The guards let them in, took a bow and closed the doors again, leaving the three men alone.

"You wanted to see us, dad?" Áki was the first one to talk; being definitely the braver twin. Puberty changed the young men, of course, but not their characters. Áki was brave and talkative, while Váli was shyer and more reserved. Not that Váli didn't have braveness within him, but not as much as his brother.

Loki nodded, took a deep breath. "How to begin with?" He muttered to himself, before standing up and stepped closer to his sons. "I have to talk with you both about something important. But not here. Let's take a walk, shall we?" Said and done. Father and sons left the palace only minutes later. "Do we have to be afraid of what you need to tell us?" Váli asked, eyeing Loki with a slightly worried gaze. "No, it's... It's..." The king took another breath. "You are now 20 years old. You've grown into big, strong and wise men - without a doubt. And I couldn't be prouder of you. I really am - and so is your mother." The twin brothers exchanged a sceptical look. Not that they never heard those words from their father before, no - quite the opposite, but... Something in Loki's voice was different. Áki and Váli could tell. "You learned so much in all those years. About Jotunheim, about your heritage, about how to act as princes - and you're doing it to perfection." Loki paused. "It is time for me to make a decision. I avoided it for a long time; tried to escape it, but... I can't do it much longer. Our people, the advisors - yes, the whole kingdom expects from me to finally decide. And I have. I had to."

Váli frowned at his father, while Áki already had a guess. "What is this all about, dad?" Loki sighed. "The throne. My successor." Váli was definitely more surprised than his brother. "T-The throne? You are telling us who the crown prince is going to be?" "Exactly, my son." Áki just nodded. "We're ready for it. I am ready for it." Loki smiled at his sons. "I know you both are. I just don't know if I am ready. Well, I guess I'll never be - but that doesn't matter." The king swallowed hard. "But before I am going to tell you this, I want you both to know that it wasn't an easy decision for me. I thought long about this. Mostly even at night. I want you to know, that I made this decision as a king - not as a father. I never would. My love for you is equally strong. It always was and it always will be. I love you more than life itself, my sons." Áki smiled, just like his brother. "We love you, too." Váli agreed. "We do - and we know that you'd never favour one of us above the other as a father, but have to as a king."

Those words meant a lot to Loki; helping to ease his fear and worries a bit. He stopped and turned to place a hand on a shoulder of each twin. "This means a lot to me. I'm glad you understand. Now that that's settled..." Loki swallowed hard. "Váli, Áki... Each of you is perfectly qualified for the throne, but... I'd like you to be the future king of Asgard, Váli." The young man's eyes widened. He absolutely hadn't seen that coming. He always had expected his brother to be the future king. Áki was stronger, braver - a warrior and a true Jotun, while Váli was... Just himself. A bit dreamy, quiet and had his nose always buried in a book. Despite that, he looked like his mother - an Æsir. Not Jotun. Was that really what his father wanted? What the people wanted?

"W-What? M-Me?" Loki nodded. "Yes, you, Váli." "B-But... Why?" The king smiled softly. "Because you are smart, wise and kind. You always make the right decisions. You are well-read and know how to rule." Váli was literally speechless. His lips moved, but now words left his mouth. "And I am not?!" The angry, clearly jealous voice of Áki cut through the air. Loki quickly redirected his attention, looked his other son in the eyes. "I never said that, Áki. You are smart and wise. You have a lot of kindness in you as well, but-" "But what?!" The furious prince literally spat. "You're a bit hot-headed. You have so much passion and energy flowing through your veins. You, my son, are the greatest warrior I have ever seen. Even greater than I am - which is why I believe, that it would be better for you to defend our home. Make sure it's safe. I want you to stand at your brother's side as his first advisor and leader of our army."

Unlike his brother, Áki rather had expected to be crowned future king. He always found himself perfect for this. Worthy of becoming a king. He didn't want to be jealous of his brother. He really didn't, because he loved Váli dearly. But the heat of the moment and his slightly hot-headed nature blinded him.

Áki answered nothing to his father's almost desperate try to explanation. He just scoffed and stormed off, leaving a distraught Loki behind. This certainly didn't go as planned. That was exactly what Loki always wanted to prevent... What he was fleeing from...

It was already quite late, when Loki decided to approach his son again, in order to talk to him. The king knew, that he couldn't spend the night in peace without having talked to Áki. You told Loki to give him some space, which he understood - but he couldn't wait any longer. He had to talk to him. So, Loki went to his chambers, but found them empty. Áki wasn't there. It didn't stop the king, though. He had a guess, knew exactly where he would most likely find the prince. While Váli preferred to escape into the secret room in the library, whenever he needs to be alone, his brother fled to the training grounds. That's where Loki went next - and he was successful. Áki was there, letting out all his anger and frustration on a Jotun sized target. His sword beat down on it, over and over again; abusing the wooden surface and causing it to splinter. Loki took a deep breath, feeling his nerves again.

"Son..." Áki immediately stopped at the sound of his father's voice. Breathing heavily, with his chest rising and falling quickly, he turned around to face Loki. "What do you want?" "I want to talk with you." Áki released a breathless, derisive chuckle. "Didn't we already talk enough?" Another deep sigh left Loki's lips; desperation crawling up in him once again. "Please, Áki. I know this frustrates you, but-" "No!" The young prince cuts him off. "I don't understand your motives, father! We both know I'd be the better king!" Áki insisted; fury ruby eyes meeting his father's identical ones. "I never denied that! I know you'd be a great king!" "Then why I won't get to be king?!" Loki inhaled sharply and closed his eyes for a moment. "Because of your temper and hot-headed nature. Those aren't exceptionally bad characteristics - and you know that, but-" "But what?!" The prince spat. "Let me finish my sentence, young man, and you'll hear!" Loki had a short fuse sometimes as well. Like father, like son... Áki clapped his mouth shut at Loki's small outburst and took a submissive step back; turned into a little boy again within seconds. "A-Apologies, father." Loki gave him an intense look and crossed his arms over his chest. "I believe that you can use those... abilities of yours way better in being the leader of our army. You fit perfectly in this role. You were always destined to be a warrior. Just like I am. Just like your mother was." The king's anger deflagrated quickly again, when he saw the hurt and sorrowful look in his son's eyes. A little boy once again, indeed.

Loki sighed and stepped closer to his son; placed a hand on his bare shoulder. "Look, I... That is exactly what I always wanted to prevent. What I always was afraid of - since yours and your brother's birth. I knew I had to choose someday - and it scared me to death. Because of that. Because I had to disappoint one of you. I am sorry, son. I truly am. I... I hoped I would be able to compensate your loss of the throne with the position as the leader of our warriors and first advisor, ruling at your brother's side and supporting him like nobody else could..." Loki swallowed, "But I'm afraid, I failed." and shook his head. "But my decision stands. My offer stands." He sighed. "Again, I am truly sorry, Áki. I hope that one day you can wrap your head around this and forgive me - and perhaps accept my gift for you. You can be angry. You have every right to be angry, but please... Don't blame your brother for this. Don't let him feel your wrath." With those words Loki let go of Áki and stepped back in order to leave. "And please... Don't let me lose my son. I couldn't bear it." The king knew when he lost - and that was the case, so he turned around and walked away.

What he didn't expect, though, was Áki's voice, holding him back. "Dad, wait!" He almost yelled, before adding in a quiet voice: "Please..." Loki stopped dead in his tracks. "I... I didn't mean to react the way I did. I shouldn't have reacted that way. It was... inappropriate." Loki swallowed and turned around slowly to face Áki again. "You're right. I have a temper... And I am hot-headed as well. It took over. I got lost in the heat of the moment. I should be grateful for what you're giving me... Not angry." Loki's words hit the young prince; cleared his foggy brain. He could see straight again. "If anyone should be sorry, it's me. Please forgive me, dad." Áki lowered his head in shame and regret.

The king couldn't believe his ears. His son's opinion changed within seconds. His heart skipped undeniably a beat; hoping for an immediate reconciliation with his son.

Loki stepped closer again - and once more found his hand the young warrior's shoulder. This gesture caused him to lift his head again; looking straight in his father's eyes. All Loki could see now in those pools of red was regret and pure honesty. He smiled softly. "Apology accepted." Áki's eyes widened. "W-What? Really?" Loki nodded. "Yes. Like I said... You had every right to be angry. I often acted the same way when I was your age." "Really?" "Really." "S-So... You're forgiving me?" Another smile grazed Loki's cerulean lips. "Of course, son. You're forgiven - but... Apologise to your brother as well. He's blaming himself already the whole day... He even thought about refusing the throne, handing it over to you and learning to fight...." Áki's eyes widened. "By the norns... Of course, I am going to apologise!"

#the ice flower au #jotun!loki #jotun loki #jotun loki x reader #jotun loki x you #jotun loki smut #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki #loki x female reader #loki x you #loki fanfiction #tom hiddleston x reader #loki fluff #loki x y/n #loki laufeyson x reader

118 notes · View notes

em-writes-stuff-sometimes · 2 years

Text

dōnus riñus (sweet girl) │ Chapter 1: Wedding

terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!

Chapter 1 │Chapter 2 │Chapter 3 │Chapter 4 │Chapter 5 │Chapter 6 │Chapter 7 │Chapter 8 │Chapter 9 │Chapter 10 │Chapter 11 │Chapter 12 (COMPLETE!)

Synopsis: As the second-born daughter of Aemma and Viserys, you never expected to be married off to your uncle, Daemon Targaryen. The wedding is here.

(Set in Episode 6 - however, Daemon never married Laena, and he's returned to King's Landing after ten years in exile.)

Hello all! Welcome to my first foray into fanfiction with everyone’s current favourite, Daemon Targaryen. This will be NSFW! TRIGGERS: incest, purity culture, breeding kink, age gap, dubious consent, public bedding.

"The marriage between the second daughter of King Viserys I and his own brother, Prince Daemon, raised eyebrows upon its first announcement. Many assumed the match would echo the Rogue Prince's unfortunate first union with the late Lady Rhea, despite his wish for a Valyrian bride being, finally, fulfilled. It surprised all who took witness to see the intensity of Daemon's devotion to his second wife, a regard that would persist through a long and happy union between uncle and niece."

- 'Fire & Blood, Being a History of the Targaryen Kings of Westeros' by Archmaester Gyldayn

“You look so pretty,” Helaena says behind you.

You smile weakly at your little sister through the mirror before you while your ladies tie you into the gown you wear. Glancing further back, you note the tension between Alicent and Rhaenyra as they sit in your solar and watch as you are readied.

You can tell Alicent is fighting the urge to say something critical to Rhaenyra—your older sister pours herself another goblet of wine, the second in a short time. You wonder if she is drinking to avoid interacting with the Queen, or if she is using the drink as a crutch to cope with the fact you were marrying … well. You smile faintly to yourself—it is probably both. The awkwardness is palpable, but the familiarity of it warms you even so.

“Lovely.” Alicent smiles perfunctorily, her attention diverted more by her own child busying herself at your vanity than you yourself. This does not bother you—you would not claim to be close with your stepmother, but nor are you the enemy she has made of Rhaenyra. “Sweetling—leave your sister’s things alone, please.”

“No, it is fine.” Helaena is a gentle creature, and you know she is earnest in her desire to be helpful. “Why don’t you choose my jewels, ’El?”‘

“Really?” she asks, bright eyes excited.

It makes little difference to you, so you nod. She turns back to your vanity and begins to rifle gently through your collection of necklaces, rings, bracelets and brooches.

“How would you like your hair, Princess?”

“Leave it,” Rhaenyra says as she stands. “I’ll do it.”

Ceryse jerks back in deference as your sister approaches you. You look up at her when she comes to rest behind you, dragging her fingers idly through your hair and humming.

Rhaenyra drags a chair forward and presses you down into it, stepping into place behind you with a silver-handled brush. She runs the bristles through your hair gently, working from your ends up. It reminds you of childhood, of growing up—you never knew your mother well, a faded idea more than a concrete memory, and so your recollections of safety and warmth and a mother’s love are entangled with the presence of your sister, older and wiser and everything you had ever wanted to be once.

Your eyes burn.

“How do you want it?” she asks. Her reflection smiles.

“Up. Nothing ostentatious.”

Alicent protests. “This is a royal wedding, darling. A display of the Crown’s prosperity. You must show them the might of House Targaryen—”

You feel Rhaenyra huff, though there is no outward indication of her annoyance. She has become very proficient at concealing her disdain for her former friend. “A bit of hair will hardly perform such feats, my Queen. Besides”—she turns to you—“this is your wedding, hāedus.” Sister. “Your choice is what matters.”

You see Alicent roll her eyes in the glass before you.

You frown. “My choice has never mattered.” It feels as though you are parading stolen goods before their rightful owner.

“Hey,” she says softly. You look up. She gazes upon you sympathetically—you are relieved to find no bitterness in her expression. “You know he will be kind, don’t you?”

Ah. You have successfully managed to avoid the obvious topic of conversation over the past few sennights, until now. You hate that Helaena and Alicent are here as witnesses, though Helaena has no interest in the conversation going on beside her; Alicent’s eyes watch you like a hawk.

“I didn’t think ‘kind’ was a word one could use to describe Prince Daemon.” Alicent takes her own sip of wine, her eyes glittering meanly. “He certainly has a reputation.”

You wonder if Alicent is trying to be helpful or not. Most likely, she seeks only to start a fight. With your sister or with yourself, you have no idea. It was not like her to behave inflammatorily towards you. You have no desire to bring attention to yourself as the tension between your sister and stepmother mounts, unbeknown to little Helaena as she hums to herself. She still has not chosen for you, though you can see she has narrowed her selection down somewhat.

Rhaenyra smiles at her—it is more of a baring of teeth than an upturning of lips. “People don’t understand our uncle, Your Grace.” She taps your upper arm; you lift up your hand and she passes you the brush to hold as she begins to divide your hair for braiding. “He is… rough around the edges, ‘tis true. But he is hardly a monster.”

Alicent sniffs. “A glowing assessment of his character, I am sure, stepdaughter.”

She tosses her hair back; it is finely braided at the temples, travailing into an ornate half-updo that glitters with the emeralds in her hairnet. She has dressed in her signature colours for this occasion, matched by your sister’s preference to black. The sleeves of her green gown glitter golden in the afternoon light, spreading slivers of shining light on the stone wall behind her.

Rhaenyra opens her mouth—you know it is something rude from the mulish expression on her face. You have no intention of listening to their back-handed wordplay today; something snide about the gracelessness of fucking your best friend’s father, then something outright offensive about the whorishness of spawning three bastard children, and a screaming match that will bring half the Kingsguard to your door in your current state of disarray. No, thank you very much.

“Helaena,” you say, diverting the girl’s attention. “Have you chosen anything for my hair?”

She beams, brandishing her selection. “I thought the pearls would go nice with your dress.”

Rhaenyra takes them from her outstretched palm, smiling at her in acknowledgement before examining your hair critically. It warms your heart to see some harmony here, the obvious outlier being Alicent. You grimace as Rhaenyra begins to tug the strand of pearls through your braids, weaving them into your hair. Fortunately, Rhaenyra and Alicent do not resume their previous conversation.

You are interrupted by a clatter at the door—it opens to reveal the beaming face of Laena Velaryon, your cousin and one of your favourite people in King’s Landing. She looks exquisite; her gown of black and gold cinches in below her breasts before spilling over her rounded belly, and her wild hair is pulled back at the top.

“How is our bride?” she asks, stepping into the room. She genuflects cursorily to Alicent, barely sparing a glance at her before striding over to you and Rhaenyra. She eyes your updo with praise and kisses Rhaenyra softly on the cheek. “Beautiful work, cousin.”

“Thank you.” Rhaenyra smiles. Her hand brushes lightly over Laena’s belly as she passes the pearls through another section of your hair.

“I am well, Laena,” you say.

She is an infectious spirit, your cousin—her and Laenor are what makes the Red Keep so vibrant, a home you are happy in. You are suddenly immensely grateful that your father chose the Velaryon scion as your sister’s husband, though it is an unconventional partnership that exists between the two. Laena is most assuredly happier in her marriage with Ser Harwin, her twin girls and impending child hallmarks of a fruitful union. Not that Rhaenyra is childless; but it is obvious that Jace and Luke and baby Joff are not Laenor’s, for all he dotes on them. “How are you?”

“Excellent,” Laena replies.

You notice Helaena has left the room; you are disappointed momentarily, as you had thought to allow her to help you with putting on your jewellery. Your attention returns to Laena.

“This babe is far more active than my Baela and Rhaena were,” she is saying. “I fear I may make water should he continue to kick so low.”

“He has more room!” Rhaenyra laughs “It is the nature of babes in the belly—they kick you until you piss yourself, and then tear their way through you on their journey into the world.”

She ceases her musings abruptly when you pale at her words.

“I am actually here for a reason,” Laena says, glancing ruefully at your sister. “Joff has spat up all over Luke’s doublet. Luke’s quite hysterical—neither Laenor nor Harwin can calm him down. He’s claiming he has nothing to wear to the feast.”

Rhaenyra has finished threading your hair and steps back to admire her work. She sighs. “I told Laenor not to hand Joff off to Luke, he’s been fussing all day.” She locks eyes with you. “I am sorry, sister. I’ll have to go deal with my boys before they blow up the Keep somehow.”

You smile at her—with three young sons, it is no wonder she perpetually sounds fed up.

There is a pause after Laena and Rhaenyra leave the room, arms entwined; you realise you are alone with your stepmother. She stands and glides over to you. There is something unreadable in the expression on her face as you look at each other.

“I want you to have your guard up,” she says to you. Her tone is uncharacteristically uncertain. She hesitates before placing her hands on your shoulders, her fingers clenching down, though it does not hurt. “Daemon Targaryen is ruthless. Dangerous, even. I did not want this for you.”

“Daemon is my uncle. He will not hurt me.”

You say it with more assurance than you feel. The truth is, you do not know the familiar stranger your uncle has become to you. As a child, he was Daemon-the-uncle, fun and free and your dearest friend in the world; as Daemon-the-man, he is unreadable, an unknown to you. You have no idea if you are right.

“Perhaps not physically.” Alicent pauses, prevaricates—her breath hitches and her hands flex from their resting place on you. “You know what is… expected of you? This evening?”

You nod, refusing to look at yourself in the mirror. You just know that your cheeks are flushed, for your skin belies every shift in emotion, an open book easily read by others.

“Septa Marlow—” You cut off. You will not recount that story; it is embarrassing enough thinking about it. Still, you want to assure your stepmother that you are more than the small girl she sees you as. “I will do my duty, Your Grace.”

“I know you will, darling,” she says.

She moves over to the jewels her daughter laid out for you, and you swallow when you see the rope of Valyrian silver, pendants inlaid with gold and onyx and diamond. One of Daemon’s courting gifts. You think there is something amusing about Helaena selecting one of the few pieces of jewellery gifted to you by your uncle, now to wear for your wedding to the same man today. She fastens it around your neck, gently rearranging it so that it falls into the hollow of your throat.

“I only ask”—she stops—“I know it is unfair, this bedding… This was not my intention.”

Alicent had questioned the point of giving Daemon a new bride—especially a Princess, second in line to the throne at one point in time—when he had refused to give the first children. It was said all over the Seven Kingdoms that he had not visited the Lady Rhea’s bed even once. Of course, your father, being who he was, almost completely misinterpreted his wife, agreeing that ‘some assurances’ were necessary. Grand Maester Mellos, ever unhelpful as he was, indolently recalled a time where royal beddings were witnessed by the Small Council to verify the consummation had occurred. Naturally, Father saw this as a perfectly acceptable solution, never mind the fact that it was Maegor himself who had begun it. You shudder when you think of how vociferous your uncle’s fierce protestations were when you were both called into the Council chambers.

“Absolutely fucking not,” Daemon says.

He stands next to you, fists clenched and jaw working in his fury. You say nothing—you have not processed the insanity that has just been commanded of you. Your fingers twist into the folds of your skirt, self-soothing to restrain the urge to laugh hysterically or perhaps even throw a fit alongside your uncle.

“When did I offer you a choice?” your father asks. His disposition suggests he is amused by Daemon’s outburst, that he sees this as one giant joke. You cannot believe your father would be so callous, and all you can do is watch. “You never lay with Lady Rhea. I’ll not give my daughter to you so you can squander two Targaryen lines.”

“So this is your brilliant solution?” The air is markedly tense as your uncle speaks—you see more than one Kingsguard’s hand drop to the pommel of their sword. “Having everyone watch? Inspecting her afterward, as though she’s some brothel whore? What—do you want to traumatise the girl?”

He gestures angrily toward you, though he does not look at you even once. You think you can hear Ser Criston mutter something unpleasant about Daemon’s familiarity with whores from his station behind you. You ignore your sworn shield as usual.

Lord Lyonel tries to allay him. “Prince Daemon—”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion, Lord Hand,” Daemon says—even though he delivers the title, his tone is anything but courteous.

When he is reminded of who begun the tradition, he is truly wroth. “I already have the blade, so I suppose you may as well name me ‘Daemon the Cruel’ and be done with it.”

You step up.

“Kepus,” you whisper from next to him, lightly touching his arm. It would not do to have him exiled again—you would much rather keep Daemon as your intended than wed Lord Jason Lannister.

“Lykirī, talus,” he says. Quiet, niece.

You bristle. Who does he think he is?

“Kepus,” you say louder, more forcefully, stepping up beside him. His eyes flicker down to you, narrowing consideringly. “Aōle jikāks arlī daor. Līr jaelzi gaomās.” Don’t get yourself sent away again. Just do what they want.

The path of least resistance is preferable, as being a lady of nobility has ingrained into you. You refuse to think of the ramifications of encouraging this madness.

“Lo ābrari Dāro Viliniot vumbiarzo iemnȳ ojenillo harrī gaomi jaelon daor, yne imandūljā.” Forgive me if I don’t want all of King’s Landing in the room as I fuck my wife. He turns to face you. His nose flares, his countenance twisting into something mocking as he looks you up and down. It is possessive, predatory. “Unless that is what you want?”

Your rejoinder is sharp. “Kelīs! Vēdrot ynoma iōrō daor.” Stop! I am not the one you are angry at.

It comes out as a hiss, but you are not quite as irate yet.

“Fine.”

None save Rhaenyra and your father have understood this conversation. They have both watched this interaction with surprise, for an angry Daemon is usually much more predisposed to cruelty, and this display has been suspiciously absent of such behaviour.

“This is not over. And”—he points at Grand Maester Mellos—“fuck you very much for this little suggestion. I’d watch myself if I were you.”

At the sound of Grand Maester Mellos squawking his indignation and your father calling out to him, Daemon turns and storms out of the room.

“Līr issa,” you say to Alicent. She hums an inquiry—you realise you had forgotten to switch back to the Common Tongue. “It is what it is.”

“Yes.” She huffs a laugh. “Very wise.”

She helps you smooth out the back of your gown as you stand. You turn to her, abruptly grateful for her help today. You have complex feelings about Alicent—she has been a fixture in your life for as long as you remember, and unlike Rhaenyra, you do not really recall a time when she was not the Queen. She has been as kind as a young bride to an older widow with a small child ever could be, and you would love her well if it were not for the callousness with which she treated your sister.

A knock on the door. Alicent bids them entry—Ser Criston, arrived to escort the bride’s party to the sept. It is time.

With Rhaenyra and Laena absent, and your youngest sister having departed quietly under the Kingsguard’s escort, all you can do is clasp onto Alicent’s arm and allow her to lead you out of your childhood room. You spare one last glance to the room before the door closes; the soft rose curtains, the chest of dolls at the foot of the bed, the open wardrobe, clothing half-packed in cases scattered on the floor. It is hardly the grandest room in the Keep, but it had served you well. You were happy here. After today, you would move across the Red Keep to new quarters more befitting the Prince and his lady wife.

The door closes. It feels like an ending.

The Sept is what the residents of the Red Keep call the grand room that winds above the serpentine steps across from the royal stables.

Since Maegor had destroyed the Sept of Remembrance, there has technically been no official place of worship in the capital. It is an understatement to call it a ‘room’, exactly—the ceiling seems to loom so far above you, and you feel even smaller than you usually do, the cavernous chamber echoing with the rumble of excited observers. There is plenty of space for the major lords of the Realm to take their places as guests to this prestigious event, though it is by no means a gathering space for a large crowd. You stand behind the divide just next to the door with Alicent and Ser Criston, awaiting your father, trying desperately to ignore the twist of your gut at the sound of all the people. You’ve never liked crowds. Ironic, for a Princess.

“You look beautiful, Your Highness,” Ser Criston says. You furrow your brow—what a strange and abrupt conversation starter. Alicent looks sharply at him.

“Thank you, Ser. You are in fine fettle as well.” It feels distinctly discomfiting to say so. He is wearing what he always wears, though you suppose it is perhaps a bit shinier than usual. Do the Kingsguard have special polish for their armour on important occasions? you wonder to yourself. The notion entertains you.

The door rattles as your father ambles in, hobbling on a bad leg. You wince sympathetically as you and Alicent move forward to help him into the room. He has been faring progressively worse as of late—the Maesters have done little to avail him of his ills.

Alicent fusses over him, her hands fluttering over his doublet, straightening his empty right sleeve so that the fabric appears stiff; it is almost as though a limb occupies the space once more when she does this. “Have you taken your milk of the poppy, husband?”

He clasps her hand in his, chuckling at her concern.

“Yes, my dear. A small dose, though!” He looks to you conspiratorially, and your chest tightens at the look of mischief on his face. For a moment, you feel like a little girl with her beloved papa again, and then you remember. “Besides, I only need to walk my daughter to the end of that aisle, don’t I?”

“Yes, Papa.” You smile weakly. The congregation has hushed; the ceremony is about to start. You move to take his remaining arm, and Alicent walks off to take her seat. The light sounds of the harp begin to float through the hall.

“Ready, child?” your father whispers. You cleave to him childishly, nodding. He raises his hand to your face, stroking your cheek. He looks wistfully down at you. “My daughter. My second-born. I am so very proud of you.”

You smile, ruthlessly suppressing the urge to cry. His validation has always been the most valuable thing to you, even while you know he has done little to deserve such juvenile adulation, especially lately. Nonetheless, you clasp his arm and begin your walk down the path. You stare straight ahead, steadfastly ignoring the rows and rows of occupants that you pass on the way to the front of the chamber. You smile when you see Helaena standing at the front, awaiting the shedding of your cloak. You catch your uncle’s eye as you walk—he is staring at you, hands clasped in front of him, the very picture of courtly valour were it not for the ravenous expression that paints his face as he watches you approach.

You know what he sees. Today, you are resplendent in a gliding gown the colour of snow, the ruffle of many layers of sheer fabric in a fine weft, a delicate combination of embroidery and metalwork inlaid with precious stones over the bodice and travelling down the skirt. The gown itself is eye-catching in a way that makes you uncomfortable, but your father insisted on a display of wealth to reinforce the legitimacy of today’s event to watchful eyes. Despite having been practiced frequently in the short time House Targaryen had held dominion over the Seven Kingdoms, many still look upon your family’s Valyrian intermarriages as foreign and sinful at best. To avoid the discomfited wagging of tongues, you have donned the sigil of House Arryn, your mother’s family, as your maiden’s cloak; it serves as a reaffirmation of the Vale’s loyalty, who had long been incensed over the rumoured crimes of the Rogue Prince against their own Lady Rhea and the Crown’s subsequent inaction over the previous decade. You are Targaryen and Arryn both today.

The High Septon’s voice is droning. “Who comes before the Seven this day?”

You project your voice, relieved that it does not sound thready or tremulous as you had feared. You clearly state your name and title. “A woman grown, trueborn and noble, I have come here to be wed.”

“Who comes to claim her?”

“Daemon, of House Targaryen, Prince of the Seven Kingdoms.” His voice travels well, and you swear you can hear ladies’ sighs in the crowd as he speaks. You want to roll your eyes.

“Who gives her?”

“Viserys of House Targaryen, First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, gives this woman.”

And with that, your father passes your hand over to Daemon’s, outstretched and waiting for yours. You grasp onto your uncle and step up so that you are level with him. His hand is warm, spreading heat through your chilled fingers. You turn to face him, swinging your cloak around. The metalwork of your dress jangles lightly as you move.

“You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection,” the Septon says.

Daemon moves forward. You feel his breath on your face as he untwists the knot holding your cloak around your neck, grasping onto the fabric and passing it over to the waiting Helaena without looking away from you. She takes the cloak and steps back.

The dark cloak of House Targaryen swings over your shoulders as your uncle settles it around you. It feels right to have your actual House’s colours on now. When it is tied, you await the Septon’s next words, your left hand clasped in his.

“We stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife: one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.” The Septon winds a ribbon of red silk around your joined hands as he speaks. “In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger—hear now their vows.”

You look up at Daemon, heart pounding, throat dry. What if you forget the words? What are the words?

His hand clasps tighter around yours, joined by the ribbon, jolting you out of your spiral. He smirks down at you, eyes glittering. Ready? he mouths.

You nod.

“I am yours and you are mine, from this day, until the end of my days.”

You speak in near unison, the airy tones of your much higher voice intermingling with the rumbling cadence of Daemon’s. Those ladies sigh again.

“Let it be known that they are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder. I proclaim thee man and wife.”

Daemon’s free hand strokes up over your jawbone, tipping your face up to his. He bends down to kiss you, no more than a light brush of lips before he departs. He tastes of sweet wine and sunlight.

“Gevie,” he whispers, briefly touching his forehead to yours. Beautiful.

You are broken from your reverie by the applause that erupts and echoes across the cavernous chamber. Pasting what you hope to be an expression of polite enjoyment over your face, you and your new husband turn to the audience. It would not do to show anything but total composure before the lords and ladies of the Realm.

Your uncle’s voice hums through the din. “Ready?”

You look up at him and smile, this one real.

Read on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/41942436/chapters/105320844

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #house of the dragon fanfiction #daemon targaryen x oc #terms of endearment │ daemon targaryen x reader

2K notes · View notes

perseephoneee · 2 months

Text

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓘𝓘𝓘

In which, you, a lady of the ton, are forced to participate in courting season. Except that courting season comes with one particularly silver tongued Prince who is making it his mission to drive you absolutely insane.

↳ fic masterlist ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist

a/n: sorry for the delay!! i'll try and get chapter IV out much faster

“He’s so infuriating,” you groaned, flopping down onto Ivy’s bed as she sat at her vanity, peering at you with amusement.

“But how was Thor–”

“He insults my wit, my wit,” you huff, rolling your eyes. “My wit is what makes me interesting.”

“I think it’s interesting you’re focused on Loki when his brother is the one that’s courting you,” Ivy mumbles, looking at her nails. You send her a glare, biting the inside of your cheek. You had come home from the races coursing with adrenaline. It was a lot more exhilarating than you expected, even if the company was lackluster. You hated the stares from the rest of the ton as you sat with the two princes. While you appreciated Thor’s company, having a verbal sparring match with Loki was not on your agenda for that day. Which is why the second you got home, you ranted to your sister.

“This whole courting situation is rather tiresome,” you groan, holding a pillow over your face. Ivy chuckles, grabs the recent gossip column (Lady Valkyrie), and sits beside you on the bed.

“You’re the talk of the ton,” Ivy sighed, slight envy in her tone. You sat up, looking at her curiously. “Everyone is gossiping about you and Prince Odinson.”

“I don’t want to be the talk of the ton,” you rub your eyes, glancing at the words on the page. Lady Valkyrie talks about your ‘spitfire personality’ in a way that gives you slight satisfaction. “Why can’t you be the talk of the ton?”

“Because I am not as interesting as you,” Ivy says, eyes bright as she looks at you. “And that is alright.”

“You deserve it more than me.”

“It is not a matter of being deserving; it just is.” Sometimes, Ivy could be wiser than you gave her credit for. You wrapped her up in a hug, resting your head on her shoulders as she patted your head. “There’s another dance happening today if you want to come?” Ivy looked at you expectantly, but you just shot her a look. “Or not.”

“Why are there so many events?” you inquired.

“I assume people are desperate to meet the one,” Ivy sighed, getting up and returning to her closet. She held up two different gowns, raising an eyebrow in question. You pointed at the right one and then went back to scowling. “You should go.”

“I’ve done enough socializing for one lifetime,” you curled into a ball facing the window. “I’m going to stay home and read.”

“Fine, have it your way,” Ivy hummed, already messing with her hair.

The truth was that you needed more books to read, having already exhausted your collection. Which in and of itself was a feat, considering you seldom ran out of books to read. You decided to take a self-care day, heading to the town and finding a new novel to distract yourself. The town wasn’t that far of a walk, and you needed the space to think critically about your situation.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like Thor; you did. He was kind and courteous and found you attractive and not at all crazy (or he found you crazy but didn’t care). Still, you didn’t feel that spark. That sense of electricity that was described in your romance novels. You just felt…the same. You had never been in love, though; there was no barometer.

The air was crisp, and you enjoyed feeling the wind tossing your hair around. You gave polite nods to anyone you passed but generally kept to yourself. The bookstore was close ahead, though, and you were anticipating your next novel. Unfortunately, any chance of solace you had was ruined by the sight of a familiar raven-haired prince exiting the shop. You felt yourself glower as you approached, and he shot you a smile that read as anything but happy.

“All alone?” Loki asked, raising a brow as he looked you up and down. You huffed, rolling your eyes.

“I’m allowed,” you went to move past him, but he blocked the entrance. “Is there something the matter, your highness?” Loki shook his head, moving out of your way. You pushed into the store, hearing the bell ring above your head as you headed straight for the section in the back left. You felt Loki follow you inside, trailing behind you as you started looking at different titles.

“I didn’t take you for a romance reader,” he said, voice close to your ear. It made you jump, and you turned to find him directly behind you.

“Do you have no sense of personal space?” you hissed, but he ignored you. Loki grabbed a book from right above your head, grimacing as he flipped through the pages.

“Terribly drab.”

“Bold of you to comment on what is romantic,” you snatched the book from his hands, hiding your grimace. It wasn’t a novel you would’ve chosen of your own volition, but you felt insistent on not letting Loki know that. You put the story back on the shelf, grabbing a different title instead from an author you admire. You appreciated that while the book involved romance, other storylines were going on that didn’t make it dreadfully dull. There was adventure, treasure, and more. Loki narrowed his eyes at you as you held the book to your chest.

“For a lady being courted by a prince, you don’t seem to be excited about the ordeal,” Loki exclaimed, startling you.

“That’s none of your business–”

“It’s my business when it involves my brother,” Loki leaned against a shelf, arms crossed and head tilted like you were a fascinating creature. You hated how relaxed he seemed, even as there was a split-second thought that he looked good posed against the various hardcovers.

“You don’t seem that interested in any of this, either,” you shot back.

“I’m not; people are boring,” Loki chuckled, a dark sound that sent chills down your spine. You fought the urge to shiver. “Let me help you.” You narrowed your eyes, unsure what he was getting at. “Whatever reason you are participating in the season, it’s not because of personal want. My father is eager for one of us to get married, and it won’t be me,” Loki sighed at this point, turning so his back was against the shelf and looking up at the ceiling. “I’ll help you secure my brother, and in turn, you help me get out of my familial expectations.”

“I don’t need your help with your brother,” you scoffed.

“Sure you do,” Loki smiled like he knew a joke you weren’t a part of. “Considering he could be courting another lady at any moment, your obstinance won’t get you anywhere. You’re also the…best choice.” He had to spit out his words at that like it pained him.

“Best choice?” Your words caught in your throat when Loki stepped closer, towering over you with the haughty air of someone who knew they held all the power.

“I don’t like you,” Loki murmured, close enough for you to hear every word. “But you’re more interesting than the rest of the ton. If anyone will join this family, I would hate for it to be one of them.”

“It sounds like you do like me,” you replied, heart beating slightly faster.

“Careful what you say, pet,” Loki stepped back, taking the heat from the air with him. Clutching the book to your chest like a shield, you carefully observed the prince before you. You didn’t need help, or at least, you didn’t think you did. You were under no illusions that you’d experience a love match. Still, perhaps Thor was your best option. It would satiate your grandmother, and you wouldn’t have to see her disapproving gaze daily.

“If I say yes…what do I have to do?” You whispered, eyes looking down. You could almost feel Loki’s satisfaction in a way that made you grit your teeth.

“Just wait,” he hummed. “You’ll know soon enough.”

“You’re terribly ominous.”

“Perhaps,” he grinned, his smile half-cocked and a serpentine glint in his eyes. It felt like making a deal with a demon, a promise that would only do more hurt in the long run than good. You can’t help thinking about your grandmother and this ridiculous expectation she put on you. You didn’t want to get married; you didn’t care. But the woman was more impatient than not, and you hated how she beat down Ivy for her inability to secure a match. It took you several seconds to meet Loki’s green eyes and even more before you could steel your mind into an impenetrable fortress.

“Then yes,” you mutter, eyes narrowed. “I say yes.”

Loki just chuckled. “Then let the games begin.”

taglist:: @gruftiela @eleniblue @iwrite-things @youneedanap @huntress-artemiss @linaax @pisces-celeste @marygoddessofmischief @saay-karani @choki.laufeyson

#my writing #my fic #loki #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #thor #thor odinson #marvel #marvel fic #marvel x reader #tom hiddleston

64 notes · View notes

ladywaffles · 4 months

Text

icemav + reckless

a discord prompt written for @sluttyhenley A sappy little Top Gun New Year's Eve prompt I forgot to post last night! Happy New Year, my friends!

In just a few hours, it will be 1996.

It will officially have been ten years since he met Maverick.

They’re all holed up in some shitty dive bar with a jukebox that predates Reagan, and the alcohol is free-flowing.

It’s probably the last time that they’ll all be together for the foreseeable future; it’s a miracle that none of them have taken promotions that have put them on desk duty.

Slider throws an arm around his shoulders, Wolfman’s got a mischievous glint in his eye.

They’re well away from base in their civvies; no one wanted to get clocked today. It’s a boys’ night out, one last hurrah for the men of ’86 before orders come down the pipeline and split them up after a scant eight weeks working together, before their careers take them out of the cockpit and ground them for good, never to fly with each other again.

“You know, Slider,” Ice muses, just loud enough that Slider can hear him. “This reminds me a lot of that first night at Top Gun.”

“You know what, Ice?” Slider plays along. “I think you’re right!”

Wolfman flashes a sharp grin, tapping Hollywood to let him know he’s heading out.

Merlin and Maverick sit at the bar, none the wiser, enjoying their beers as the NBC live coverage of Times Square plays on the TV behind them.

Slider slips over to the jukebox as Wolf darts up to the tiny stage. He passes Ice a microphone, “with the longest cord we could find!” Wolf tells him. Slider shoots him a thumbs-up above the heads of the crowd, and Ice makes his way to his target.

“Excuse me,” Hollywood says dramatically, tapping on Maverick’s shoulder. Maverick furrows his brow.

“Wood, don’t tell me you’re already wasted this early in the—”

“Is this guy bothering you?” Ice interrupts, cool as can be. Maverick stops short in the middle of his sentence, then catches on.

“Ice, don’t you dare—”

The Righteous Brothers kick up on the jukebox. “Oh, my looove,” Ice croons to Maverick, “my darling, I’ve hun-gered for your touch!”

Hollywood joins in, serenading Maverick as his face turns bright red, even under the dingy light of the bar. Somewhere in the crowd, Wolfman and Slider join in, and then the entire bar is coming along, slightly off-key, a little too loud, singing “Unchained Melody” at the top of their lungs as Maverick, larger than life and slick as can be, tries to shrink into his barstool. Merlin won’t have it, though, and he forces Maverick to stand up at the end and accept the ovations from his adoring crowd.

The boys crack a smile, and Merlin vacates his seat so Ice can slide in next to Maverick, whose cheeks are still flaming red.

“You know,” Ice says with a grin, “I’ve never seen you quite this red, even when you’ve got sunburn.” He jabs an elbow into Mav’s side, but Mav pushes him off.

“That was very reckless of you,” Maverick says lowly, intending to scold but coming off somewhat impressed. “Singing to me in the middle of a civilian bar like that.”

Ice shrugs, bolstered by his success and the alcohol already in his system. “What can I say, I’m a natural at it.”

“I bet you do this for all the girls. Does that play often work for you?” Maverick asks. Ice winks at him.

“I’ve never done it before. You’ll have to tell me how I’m doing.”

“You think it’s going well?” Maverick says. His voice is still low, but for an altogether different reason.

Ice leans in, knowing smile on his lips. “Why don’t you tell me in the morning?”

Maverick groans. “I cannot believe you just did that.”

Ice calls for another round for him and Maverick, then closes out both their tabs. “Ten years it took me to get the full story out of you, Mitchell.” He downs his vodka in one go, fully aware of Maverick’s eyes on his throat as he swallows. “You can’t have thought I was going to let you live it down that easily.”

Maverick knocks back his shot. “So then, sailor,” he looks up at Ice. There’s two hours to midnight yet. “You in town for long?”

“Not for much longer,” Ice answers truthfully. “But if you’ll have me, I’ll come back to you whenever I can.”

Maverick smiles, a big toothy grin that makes him look like that fresh-faced punk of a lieutenant he first met ten years ago. “I’d like nothing better, Ice.”

#top gun #icemav #lamby.prompt

142 notes · View notes

searchingforserendipity25 · 4 months

Text

‘there was horror beyond horror. and yet we would not be the quendi, if we were blind to beauty even in the darkness. when we skated on the thin, thin black ice, and all the stars reflected upon it such we seemed to walk among the heavens. and the ice made such a singing -’

fingon did not continue, and maedhros did not reply.

fever-bound, too hot to touch, too bright to look upon, he was all mislaid spirit and striving flesh. his eyes moved under his lids restlessly; if he heard him at all, he gave no sign at all.

fingon had not known maedhros had stood aside at losgar until he heard the healers speak of it. it was good to be able to wash his face and neck and wound without hatred, but hatred had been easier.

he had bought a great deal at the price of an impossible deed and a lost hand, peace above all, this uneasy truce and this uneasy becalming, the long recovery. but the hatred, too, had been left to rot with morgoth's chains.

he could not be sorry for it - but he did feel its lack, no less than maedhros, who thrashed in stilted movements, expecting to be constrained.

fingon knew him. he had hated him for years and years. it had kept him alive, warm within, his urge for justice; and now it was guttered in him, watching maedhros burn inside himself.

and yet. he heard it still. that sweet, high sound, the warnings of the helcaraxë. danger, danger in every step, and no safe place to tread, a layer of ice as fine as a sword’s fine edge between going forward and sinking wholly. maedhros had stood aside at losgar, but not in alqualondë, and not in tirion. even if he kneeled to fingolfin, and was faithful, and made peace.

a traitor will always turn again, turgon had told him, pale with fury, when he came to visit from across the lake to demand news of what passed after the landing of the eagle; and turgon was wiser at times than his brother - if not wise enough not to come to his brother’s aid, amidst the kinslaying by the sea.

maedhros’s breathing was ragged, greedy, his chapped mouth drinking in the herb-scented air. he had such a will to live in him, and such despair. fingon could feel it even now, a dark thing moving underneath, the coals that fed the brightness of his spirit. fingon knew himself in battle with it, custodian over his quest-prize till he woke.

‘i will tell you of it when you wake,’ fingon promised, and wrung the cloth. it would be says yet before maedhros woke, and not love alone kept him to his side.

#fingon #maedhros #silm fic #russingon #my fic #the love was there...so was all the rest (love is its own foresight. fingon does not need divine visitations to be warned and ignore it)

86 notes · View notes

misc-obeyme · 10 months

Note

I just saw the rock band au and that was amazing! I got a request, The brothers visiting MC in the human realm possessing a human soul could this be MC own reaction

Oh, anon, I'm so glad you liked that rock band story! It gave me a little trouble, but I think it turned out pretty good despite that!

Okay, okay. So I feel I must apologize because this ended up being kind of... ridiculous? I don't know if you wanted something more serious and dramatic, but for some reason I found the idea of the brothers possessing people in the human world just to see MC rather humorous. So I'm afraid that's the direction this one went in! But if you were wanting something more serious, please let me know as I have ideas for this request that would result in a lot of angst instead.

Thank you for the request!

GN!MC reacts to finding the brothers have possessed a human in the human world in order to visit them

Warnings: possession which necessarily means that the random humans don't have control over their own bodies, but this is pretty lighthearted and they would mostly be unaffected by it

Lucifer

You're sitting in a public place somewhere - like the park or a cafe - when a good looking man randomly sits beside you. He's dressed like some big shot - a fancy suit, an expensive watch. You don't know him, but he smiles at you and says hello, using your name to address you.

How confusing? Who is this guy? You're pretty sure you don't know him. You can't just say that, though, can you? What if you do know him and you just forgot his name? You settle for a general greeting and completely forgo using his name, since you don't actually know it at all.

He chuckles. Don't worry, MC. You didn't forget his name. This is actually Lucifer possessing a human so he could come visit you in the human world. And that's when you notice the ruby eyes. You're amazed. He must have something important to say to you. Normally, he'd just show up in his own body, right?

But wait, how did you not realize that demons can possess humans like this? What's going to happen to that nice person he's invaded like that? Express your concern and Lucifer will calm you by telling you that the man he's possessed will be none the wiser. So there's no need to worry about him. He'll forget this ever even happened. Now hurry up and return to the Devildom, please. There's quite a stack of student council paperwork that needs your attention.

Mammon

It's an unusual circumstance, but you're at the bank. Maybe you needed to get a new debit card or you're thinking about taking out a loan. You've been waiting in line, but now you are finally called up to the teller. It appears to be a nice young woman with bright blue eyes. You're about to start telling her about what you need when she reaches across the counter and grasps your hand.

You look up in surprise and see that her eyes are practically sparkling. Is it just you or do they seem to have a little glint of gold in them…? She leans across the counter and whispers at you. MC! Don't ya recognize your first man?

Well you certainly do now! You demand to know what Mammon is doing in the body of this bank teller! He better not be up to something shady… He's going to attempt to reassure you. It's nothing like that! He just wanted to come visit you! It was a surprise, that's all!

You're suspicious. You ask him directly if he's planning on stealing money from the bank. He pretends to be offended. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to exchange human world money for Grimm? If he was to steal money here, he'd have to spend it here, too. Now that he's thinking about it though, that doesn't sound too bad… Tell him to get out of here before you banish him yourself. (You don't know how to do this, but he doesn't know that.) He agrees reluctantly, but only if you promise to come back to the Devildom quickly.

Leviathan

You're just going about your day, walking down the sidewalk, when you come upon a line unlike anything you've seen in a while. You don't know where the end of it is, but it appears that all of these people are waiting to get inside a store for something. A video game maybe? You're afraid to ask. You go on your way, walking next to the line, looking at your phone, when someone grabs your arm.

You whirl, about to whack them over the head, but they fling up their hands. MC! Please don't hurt him, he just didn't want you to walk past! You stop because of the fact that this stranger knows your name. When he lowers his hands, you see a pair of orange eyes and instantly know this has to be Levi. But his body belongs to some rando? What is going on?

He possessed someone to visit you, but saw this line on his way to where you are and got sidetracked. He's embarrassed to admit that he doesn't even know what the line is for. He just assumed it was something limited edition and that he likely needed to get one for himself before he lost his chance.

You're not surprised by this, but you are surprised by the possession. Was that really necessary? Couldn't he have just called you or something? That just isn't the same as seeing you in person. And since you wouldn't summon him yourself, he had to do something else to get to the human realm. Tell him that he had better go home once he's had his fill of waiting in line. He'll go, but he's going to get whatever this line is for. Gets you one, too.

Satan

You're taking your precious pet to the vet for a check up when it happens. You encounter the usual vet tech, someone you've seen plenty of times before. But something seems a little off about them. They sound different, they're more casual with you, and their eyes seem really really green? Have their eyes always been green? You honestly can't remember.

They take you into one of the vet rooms. Then they turn to you and there's a light shining in their eyes unlike anything you've ever seen. MC, it's him. It's Satan. Do you have any idea how many cats he's had the pleasure of petting today? So many. He came here like this just to say hello to you, but now he never wants to go home.

You're in shock. Does he know enough about being a vet to stay here for any real amount of time? He's offended at your question. Of course he has extensive knowledge on the medical treatment of animals. And anyway, all he really does is weigh them before handing them off to the vet. Okay, but what about that poor soul he's possessed? Please give him more credit, won't you? They won't remember a thing once he's gone.

Tell him that if he goes back to the Devildom, you'll go to all the cat cafes with him when you come back. He's a little annoyed at you for trying to bribe him like that, but he can tell that you're stressed about your vet tech being possessed. Very well, he'll go. But don't think he won't remind you of this promise when you finally come back.

Asmodeus

You are at home, minding your own business, when your doorbell rings. You open it to find someone in a big floppy hat and a pair of dark sunglasses. There's a swarm of paparazzi behind them. They push their way into your house and close the door, locking it behind them. When you finally get a good look at this person, you are in shock to see that it's a famous pop star. She's trying to look as unobtrusive as possible, but there's no mistaking her.

Oh, MC! You've saved him by letting him into your house! He had no idea this person was going to be hounded by paparazzi like that! Not that he's not used to it, of course. But he really came here to see you! Takes off the sunglasses and suddenly you realize you're actually talking to Asmo.

He must be insane. He has possessed a pop star in order to come see you in the human world. Why in the world would he do that? He explains that he just wanted to see what it was like to be this famous person! It really didn't measure up to being himself - he's far more beautiful of course - but it was certainly an interesting experience! If he's going to possess someone to visit you, might as well make it worth the effort.

Tell him that he has to return that pop star where he found her before he goes home. He can't just leave her, dazed and confused, in your house. He waves you off, it's no problem. He's going to take care of her, the poor thing. He's going to do her makeup and nails before he goes, though. She'll be thankful when she comes to. He's also going to insist on staying with you for a little while. You can't get rid of him so quickly!

Beelzebub

You're sitting in the park, maybe reading, maybe feeding some ducks, when someone sits on the bench beside you. You turn to look and see a beautiful woman dressed in athletic gear like she just sat down from a jog. There is a pile of churros in her hands, which she clearly got from a nearby vendor. She smiles and offers you one.

You find this very unusual and you're not sure about taking food from strangers. You're about to decline, but she seems to be able to tell. Don't worry, MC. These churros are really good. He's already tried ten of them. And then you get a better look at the eyes - purple and pink - and everything clicks into place.

You can't believe Beel has possessed some poor jogger and stuffed her body full of churros. Doesn't he realize what a problem that is? This body isn't his! She's going to be insanely sick later! He's really sorry, but he couldn't resist the smell of those churros. He only possessed someone near you so he could see you. The food just sidetracked him.

Take all the remaining churros from him because he will eat them if you don't and this unfortunate jogger will be the one dealing with it later. Tell him that you'll bring him all the human world food he wants when you come back. He accepts this offer. Promises to be patient and wait for you.

Belphegor

You walk out your front door and nearly trip over something curled up on your doorstep. You look down to find… a person? What is this random guy doing here? He looks normal enough, but he's sleeping in front of your door? You can't just leave him there, right? Should you call the police? You opt for shaking him awake. As soon as the eyes are opened and blinking up at you, you know something isn't right.

Sorry, MC. He was coming to see you, but he fell asleep before he could ring your doorbell. Yes, that's right, this unsuspecting human has been possessed by Belphie. You pull him to his feet and brush off the person's clothes, which are only slightly dirty from him being on the ground.

You ask him who he's possessed and he tells you that he has no idea. It was just someone who seemed close enough for him to reach you. He just really missed you. You're his best napping partner, you know. How is he supposed to get any decent sleep when you're always gone?

Tell him he can't go around possessing random humans just because he wants to nap with you. He'll have to nap with Beel for now until you return to the Devildom. He won't be happy about it, but he'll listen to you. Fine, but you had better come back soon. Everybody is losing their minds without you, it isn't just him. So hurry up, will you?

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me headcanons #obey me fanfiction #obey me fanfic #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me brothers #request #anon request #misc writes

160 notes · View notes

jakesflora · 6 months

Text

Forgive Me.

Jake Kiszka Priest AU

word count: 2.1k

you have a confession.

warnings: smut, sacrilegious.

You never missed a Sunday, being a catholic was all you knew, since you were a child and your parents dragged you and your brothers to church bright and early every sunday. You had heard news among the grapevine that there was a new priest coming, to take over for Father James, as he was getting older and needed to retire. You were dressed in your finest attire, to meet the new priest, dressed in a pretty black skirt, with a white sweater to cover up as much skin as possible. Your heels click on the stairs as you walk up to the doors of the church, the older ladies greeting you as you walk in. Father James, was standing at the end of the pews, greeting you with a smile, “Very nice to see your face this morning, Y/N” you sent him a warm and welcoming smile, he had always been nice to you. Everyone had been speculating why exactly he was leaving, some people said it was because he needed to retire, others said he committed blasphemy and he's no longer able to be a preacher. Rumor has it, the new father is much younger, and less experienced, but he was in fact a very holy man according to most. You took your seat at your normal spot, three rows back, towards the middle of the aisle. The ushers at the back, shut the doors as you heard the familiar bell start to ring, signaling that the service is starting. Father James walked in from the back of the church, followed by a young man, his hair was a medium shade of brown, and his eyebrows were slightly furrowed as his brown eyes scoped out the many pews filled with people. Father James, cleared his throat and spoke into the mic, “This brings me pure sadness to say, but this will be my last sermon with you all. It's been lovely to get to know you all, this will be your new father,” the man raised his hand from beside him, sending all of us a wave. “His name is Jake, but you may call him Father Jake, he will be around after the sermon, to ask questions and hold confessionals if you would need one, may god be with you all.” and with that he started his normal trek on about god, and his disciples.

After he finishes speaking, he bids you all goodbye, telling you all once again that the new Father Jake would be available in the confessional room if needed. A ping of guilt flashed into your eyes knowing good and well there were things you never felt quite comfortable telling Father James given he was so much older and wiser than you. After mostly everyone had cleared out from the pews and were now just standing outside talking amongst each other, you trotted your way down the narrow hallway towards the back of the church. Hidden in the back corner was the confession room, where most women had spent most of their time with Father James telling him about the urges they had to do something most people would say is unholy, and by most people meaning the catholic church. You gently placed a knock on the door, the knocks echoing in the hallway as you did so. “You may come in,” you heard from the other side of the door, doing as the man said, you turned the knob and opened the door. Once inside there he sat, the man you have come to know as Father Jake. He cleared his throat and spoke up, “How may I help you today?” as you walked your way over to the chair in front of his desk, you felt as if his eyes were burning holes into your body, into your flesh, and you weren't sure exactly how to feel about it. In fact, maybe it was all just in your head. You sat down in the chair across from him, crossing your legs like a proper lady. “I’ve come to confess some…urges, if you will.” the nerves were evident in your voice, but in a way you did not feel ashamed, he seemed young enough to understand how it is to be a person your age and feel the things you feel, as he couldn’t be over thirty years old.

“Ah yes, what would those urges be…? What's your name? I did not catch it.” he spoke, sorting out papers clattered about the wooden desk top table. “My names y/n” you said, a small smile upon your face. “Lovely to meet you father.” he looked up from his papers, once again looking at you like something was severely wrong with you, so you just continued to speak. “The urges father, they get so hard to fight sometimes, I've always wondered how it felt, the feeling must be good enough for so many people to stray away from their beliefs because of it.” he was listening to you quite intently, playing with the cross rosary that was once clad to his chest, now gripped in his hands, his brow furrowed. “The feeling of what y/n? What is this feeling that you are so ashamed of?” You shifted in your seat, almost in a way kind of scared to tell him what it is that you’re truly feeling. “Well Um..,” you were fiddling with the ruffles of your skirt, trying not to make eye contact as the thought of saying these words to someone, a holy man like him, seems so wrong. “I wonder what being touched by another feels like, and I know it's against the rules, and in no way am I rebelling but there's something that's so interesting about it.” with the last bit of that sentence you grew the urge to finally look up at him, to meet his brown eyes. His eyes were dark, and it was almost scary, he looked almost.. evil? You didn’t quite know the word for it. “So you think, that the touch of another is enough to break your vows to the church, your vows to the lord?” He now stood up, the vestment he was wearing now straightening up around his waist, and the rosary now falling back to its original place. He was now towering over you, his hand coming up to hold your chin in his hands, “Is that what you’re telling me, sweet y/n?” Your mouth had slightly parted, any spit that was in your mouth has now dried up, swallowing hard to the best of your abilities. “I…I’m sorry father I just.” With a jerk of your chin he cut you off. “Say no more, I've heard enough. It's time to confess your sins before the lord.” He pulls you up out of the chair, with one pull of your arm. Standing beside him now, you realized how much larger he was than you, how much stronger he was. He pointed to the back of the room, where there was a large painting of Jesus on the wall. “Go to him, get on your knees before him, and beg for forgiveness for even thinking such a thing.” He dropped your chin, your legs shaking as you walked over to the painting and did exactly as he told you to do, now rested upon your knees in front of the painting. You heard his feet behind you, and the door lock click as he made his way over to you meaning he in fact locked the two of you in here. There was a feeling in between your thighs that you had never quite felt before, why is it happening now? What even is it? You heard the scraping of a chair on the wooden floor, his chair now beside you as he sat down in it. He grabbed your hair roughly, pulling your head back to look at him. “Do you feel forgiven my dear? I think I know another way you could be forgiven.” The rasp in his voice is much more evident now than it was earlier. “Let me show you.” He grabbed your hand, placing it on his crotch, rubbing it slowly as he let out a low groan. “What are you doing Father? This isn't right.” he refused to let your hand go, still making you rub his now growing cock. “Isn't it though sweetheart? Let me show you how it feels to be touched, while the lord is watching us.” the feeling between your thighs grew tenfold, immediately complying to what he was saying and doing. He lifted up his vestment, taking off the pants he was wearing underneath it. Exposing the cock that was now hard at the thought of taking your innocence and ruining it.

Turns out Jake wasn’t a holy man at all, now was he? “Now let's take off that pretty little skirt of yours that I've been looking at all day.” He lifted you up off your knees, ripping off the skirt that was once what was hiding the wetness of your panties from him and the rest of the world. “That's what i'm talking about, look how pretty you are angel,You're an angel sent from the lord himself.” all you could do was whine, no words came to mind minus the thought of him touching you. He pulled your panties to the side and ran his finger up and down the slit of your pussy, playing in the pile of wetness that has gathered upon your clit. He smirked, knowing good and well that all of this was for him, he lifted his fingers up to his mouth with your wetness still coating them, popping them in his mouth. “Oh angel, you taste so good. I just want another taste.” that did not stop you from grinding your hips on his still hardening cock noticing that the friction felt really good. He wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you safely in the air as he walked you over to his desk, where he laid you down before getting on his knees himself. He pulled you right to the edge, so that his mouth was now level to your cunt, as he began to lick gently at the sensitive nub between your folds, now not being able to keep the moans of his holy name from slipping your mouth. He gripped your thighs so rough that there was going to absolutely be bruises as he completely devoured your dripping cunt. Your hands now tangled in the brown hair that you had watched walk in earlier, legs wrapping around his head not wanting this to ever end. He smirked into your wetness like a cocky son of a bitch before adding two fingers into the mix now working them in and out of you with a quick motion. Your back begins to arch off the desk at all the feelings he was making you feel. You felt a low burning sensation in the bottom of your stomach, “Father I--” was all you were able to say before he completely stopped. “Not yet, I want you to cum on my cock, I want you to bless me with your cum little dove”

You looked down at him, now watching him stand up and pump his cock a couple of times, pushing the hair out of his face as it was stuck to his forehead with a mix of your wetness and sweat. “Now, this might hurt angel, but I promise it will feel great in the end.” That was the only warning he gave you before he slammed his cock into your little innocent pussy that's never taken cock before in its life, much less a man the size of him. He let out moans of your name as he slid his cock in and out of you, all you could do was whimper as he ruined you, taking the one thing that you were told to keep as long as you could, away from you, but god almighty did it feel good. Your nails dug into his back, leaving scratch marks as the rosary around his neck dangled in your face. His hand reaching up and grasping hard at your neck as he squeezed as hard as possible. “Dirty little slut, how dare you do this? You’re ruined.” he spat, smacking at your cheek as gently as possible. You felt the feeling once again building in your lower stomach, “Father I-- I.” you could hardly get out words. “Bless me angel, give it to me” was all he had to say before you were writhing in pleasure around his cock. Which was enough to send him over the edge as well, filling up your now fucked out pussy with his cum as he slowly slowed down his pace before pulling out of you completely. He placed a kiss on your forehead, “Consider yourself forgiven, in my eyes.”

74 notes · View notes

taizi · 1 year

Note

If you’re still taking prompts… disaster twins being disasters?

Casey can remember being this excited maybe once or twice before in his entire life, but that’s it. He doesn’t realize he’s bouncing in his seat until Michelangelo flops over him, arms folded around Casey’s shoulders and chin propped up on top of his head, grin present in the bright tone of his voice.

“We might be hyping this up too much,” the youngest Hamato—second-youngest, now, Casey reminds himself somewhat shyly—says good-naturedly. “It’s just a spar, CJ.”

“I know,” Casey says quickly, clamping his hands on his knees. He feels like a little kid again, being warned that if he can’t sit still he can’t stay in the dojo to watch training. That’s not anywhere near what Mikey said, but he’s not risking it! He refuses to miss this! “But it’s just—I haven’t seen sensei spar with anyone but Commander O’Neil in ages.”

He doesn’t say that Uncle Raph was killed when Casey was so young that he barely got to keep any memories of him. He definitely doesn’t say that when Uncle Tello died, sensei destroyed a string of Krang corps single-handedly, stumbled home half-dead, and then didn’t come out of the silent lab for three days. When he did finally emerge, some intrinsic, important part of him was gone for good.

By then, Master Michelangelo was too brittle for physical combat, pouring all of himself into the mystic arts instead. April was the only one left who was unafraid to drag Master Leonardo onto the mats, to bring some life back into him. And it was fun to watch, but it wasn’t those high-energy spars he could remember being awed by when he was a child, when all four of the turtles were together and the apocalypse seemed like something they might survive after all.

“I bet I whooped his butt, too,” April interjects loudly from the cozy-looking beanbag chair she dragged into the dojo. Leo shoots her a mock-offended look, hand over his heart, the whole nine yards.

He’s wearing a pair of bright pink cordless headphones, and his warm-up stretches have a lot more energetic bopping around than perhaps strictly necessary. Raph is smiling crookedly as he guides Leo through the forms, watching carefully for any sign of lingering tenderness or soreness and finding none. He’s probably as relieved as all the rest of their mismatched little clan that Leo has healed to this point—casts and leg brace finally discarded, energy ratcheted up to eleven.

Across the mat, Donnie is pretending to be buried in his phone, but he’s watching Leo as raptly as Raphael. If he thought for a second that Leo was nursing some hidden-away hurt, he would find a way to divert the match without anyone the wiser. And it would be something needlessly showy and stupid, too—Casey has the sudden vision of a lair-wide blackout. He pats the penlight clipped to his belt to make sure it’s there, just in case.

But Leo is in fine form, and Splinter steps onto the middle of the mat with a judicious air.

“Now I want a clean match, boys,” he orders, arms folded. “No shenanigans!”

“Aw, not even one?” Mikey pipes up.

The Hamato patriarch considers this carefully, then says, “I will allow ONE shenanigan!”

“Alright Michael!” Leo cheers. “Use those favorite son privileges for good!” He barely dodges the half-hearted strike from Splinter’s tail.

Then Raphael is placing his hands on Leo’s shoulders and giving him a friendly jostle, in the manner of ruffling a puppy’s ears to get it all riled up (a life-affirming maneuver that Casey only recently discovered for himself one early morning coffee run with Cass when they crossed paths with a nice lady and her wriggly baby pit bull) and Splinter is stepping back off the mat and Donnie is sliding his phone away.

“Let me know if you need me to go easy on you, little brother,” Donnie says magnanimously.

“You hatched four minutes before me,” Leo replies. His tone suggests this is an argument they’ve had at least one billion times.

“No one likes a sore loser, Nardo.”

April makes a coughing, cackling sound, and then shouts, “Someone get ready to do the heimlich! My man’s gonna choke on that hypocrisy!”

“APRIL, you were adopted and you can be replaced!” Donnie shouts back over everyone’s laughter. Casey feels like he’s sitting in the sun, surrounded on all sides by warmth and light. He was raised on the scraps of a ruined world, the scraps of love and joy that his family had left to offer him. They gave him everything they could, but he knew they were digging into the bottom of the well. Here, those things are a renewable resource. All the good just stretches and stretches and stretches forever.

Master Leonardo was not a bitter person. But he was very rarely a happy one. Uncle Tello and Rapha were gone and Master Michelangelo was aging rapidly before his eyes, three times as quickly as he should have. April and mom and all the faces that Casey saw everyday were weary and worn thin, constantly braced for the next horrible thing to come.

It heals something in Casey’s chest that he didn’t know was hurting to see them like this instead. A festering, years-old wound finally draining, finally given clean air and room to heal. April’s still heckling and Mikey is still draped over Casey, sturdy and boyish and the brightest thing for miles. Raphael is leaning against the wall, grinning, as eager to watch the show as everyone else. Splinter looks unrelentingly fond and also like he’s expecting this to be a trainwreck.

In the second before Splinter calls the beginning of the match, Donnie’s eyes narrow suspiciously and he says, “Wait, what are you listening to?”

A shit-eating grin stretches across Leo’s face, and in lieu of answering out loud, he lifts a hand and dramatically finger-spells K-A-R-M-A.

“Oooooooh,” Mikey and Raph and April all chorus delightedly.

“Oh, goddammit,” Donnie bites out, visibly preparing to fight for his life.

Then Splinter’s hands come down and the twins burst into movement. There are no weapons in their hands, it’s nowhere near as showy as their fight with the Krang had been, but it’s amazing in its own way.

They’re fast, much faster than the masters of Casey’s timeline because they’re so little in comparison, lean and lithe and all gremlin energy. The two of them move like they know each other as well as their own selves, the blocks and blows meeting as if they were choreographed well in advance, and every step is so quick and so clean that Casey can barely follow it. Five minutes in, Leo’s eyes glow white and then Donnie’s do, and Donnie barks out a surprised laugh.

Mikey yells, “No inside jokes that’s not fair!”

“It’s a nice break from that song. I've heard him humming it in the back of my brain all day,” Raph says ruefully, then quickly holds his hands up when Leo’s head whips around in his direction. “No offense! I like it! Just not—not 16 times in a row, big guy.”

Splinter steps in the instant Leo winces, having landed too heavily on his bad leg after a showy flip.

“Alright, silly melons, that’s enough. Match goes to neither of you because you play too much.”

Whatever complaint the twins might have made is entirely forgotten as they turn to face their dad blankly. Donnie says, “I’m sorry, did you just call us silly melons?”

“Melons are green, yes? And stupidly expensive at all times for no reason.” He pulls a paperback book out of the inner fold of his robe and thumbs through it. “Children like nicknames. The experts have said so.”

Looking torn between helpless confusion and hysterical laughter, Raph says, “What are you reading, pops?”

“Melons cost like $8 in Chinatown when they're in season, where the heck have you been shopping?” Mikey interjects loudly, shooting over the back of the couch like spending too much of the grocery fund on overpriced produce is the first and final straw.

“Seriously, Splints, what are you reading?” April asks, trying to get the book from him.

“Silly melons??” Donnie and Leo demand again. Training for the day is entirely derailed, though that might have been Splinter’s ploy in the first place.

Master Leonardo wasn’t a bitter person. Despite the weight of the world on his shoulders and all the losses he carried around in his heart, Casey’s memories of him are good and warm and only bittersweet because of those final moments, and because of how much Casey misses him every day. Still—even if he was careful not to let it show—Casey knows that Master Leonardo didn’t have a lot of opportunities for joy.

That’s the thing that’s taken the most getting used to here, Casey thinks, watching everyone. That’s the difference his family makes. This Leo doesn’t have to reach very far for a reason to smile.

He glances over his shoulder and his smile widens to include Casey, and Casey hurries off the sidelines to join the rest of them.

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #disaster twins #rise leo #casey jr #hamato leonardo #hamato donatello #ratdad #my writing #prompt #anonymous #tmnt fic #swiftie leon agenda continues #working title for this is 'flexing like a goddamn acrobat'#idk whats up with tmnt fics being the vehicle for me forcing my music tastes on my readers lately but it is what it is #this is so silly but i had fun writing it

214 notes · View notes