#non-consensual daemon touching

[25centsoda]

Whumptober 2023 Day 9 - Star Wars

The Organas are forced to hold another party to ensure that they continue to toe the Imperial line. Unfortunately, there's a new guest tonight, one that's far too interested in their twelve-year-old son, Luke. No. 9: “Learning everything ain't what it seems, that's the thing about these days.” Polaroid | Mistaken Identity | “You're a liar.”

Luke stayed at the edges of the party as much as he could, clutching Artoo, who was in ermine form. It wasn’t a proper party, anyway; not one his parents wanted to put on. It was more like an excuse for the Imperials to come in and look under all the couch cushions for signs of Rebel activity. They wouldn’t find any. His papa, Bail, and his mama, Breha, were too good at hiding in plain sight.

“How are you doing, star flower?” Papa managed to disentangle himself from one of Luke’s Imperial cousins and drifted over to where Luke was standing. Papa’s daemon, a snowy owl, nuzzled Artoo’s nose, and Artoo purred. Luke smiled.

“I’m alright. How much longer, Papa?”

Papa sighed. “Not too much longer, I hope. Dinner is soon, and then perhaps I’ll be able to shuffle everyone off by claiming that it’s your bedtime.”

“I’m not that young!” Luke protested.

[elaratyrell]

Poor Unfortunate Souls {Part 3/3 -> FINALE} … Jace's Version

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

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

Warnings: Language probably, reader is still mind controlled, Aemond's a dick, Aemond kicks a dog but it's unharmed, non- consensual touching (Aemond's gets a little handsy {well, tentacle-y, if you get my drift}), minor angst but a happy ending!!! Not entirely proof read (yet) *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.

Chapter Synopsis: Jace desperately tries to stop your wedding to Aemond before sunset, but will he be able to break the spell his crazed uncle has on you? And if he does, will you feel the same way about him?

Part One Part Two Aemond's Ending

A/N: I'm sorry this has taken so long to write, I've struggled with motivation and burnout. BUT... the trailer, Harry's recent instagram posts, all of the Ewan content we've been getting over this past week and listening to the little mermaid soundtrack on repeat has relit a spark inside of me. Enjoy! Aemond's part should be published before Christmas

Jace hadn't dared to leave his room all day.

He didn't want to in fear for seeing you or Aemond.

The thought of you marrying that monster made him sick to the pit of his stomach.

And he felt embarrassed.

Embarrassed over how stupid he had been.

He should have known that Aemond had an ulterior motive. He should have known there was something else planned. Looking back on it, it was obvious that his uncle had developed a depraved obsession with you. The way he knew about you, tried to intercept him at every turn. Jace thought that Aemond just wanted him to fail but seeing that... it had made everything abundantly clear.

And now his soul was to be claimed by Aemond. And what would most certainly be an even worse fate awaited his family, his people, especially poor Luke. Aemond would save the worst for him. And you... Jace immediately shook the thought from his mind. He didn't want to think of what Aemond had in store for you.

At some point during the day, Jace had moved from leaning against the door to sitting by the window. His gaze would rest on his two legs, something that he had always dreamed of possessing, now seeming obsolete. Where he had previously looked upon them with wonder, he now looked at them with nothing short of resentment, disgusted with how his selfish impulsiveness had sealed his entire kingdom, family and the woman he loved to a terrible fate.

He regretted ever following your ship that night.

He regretted seeing you, falling for you, letting those feelings and fantasies of living on the surface with you cloud his mind.

And yet despite that, his heart sank when he saw your wedding ship leave the port from the view of his window, head resting against the glass, watching as you drifted further and further away from him. Were you feeling nervous? Happy? Did you think of him at all?

You hadn't even said goodbye.

Perhaps Jace had merely been a burden, a duty to you. Someone that you felt you needed to help, but not to care about.

His eyes squeezed shut as he felt a new wave of tears cloud his vision for what was likely the twentieth time that day. His body heaved in a silent sob, his head dropping to rest on his brought up knees.

He could only imagine the look of disappointment on his mother's face if she could only see him now. Or the cruel, mocking one that would no doubt cross Daemon's as he showed Rhaenyra that every jab he had sent Jace's way had been true. That he was nothing but a weak, unworthy prince of the realm. An unfitting heir to the throne that Aemond would likely attempt to usurp from her.

Feeling a small nudge against his cheek, Jace tilted his head to see Syrax perched on his shoulder. Perhaps it was his own tear stained vision, but it almost seemed as though she were crying too.

Jace lifted his head and attempted to give her what he hoped was a small smile, but his face shortly crumpled again, tears streaking down his cheeks. Syrax placed her claws either side of his face in a sort of hug, her head resting against his. It was strange, but it comforted him, quieting his sniffles and calming his breaths.

Yet all he really wanted was to see his mother, to feel the warmth of her embrace one last time. To amend their relationship that had been fracturing for some time now.

The somewhat tender moment was interrupted by a loud smacking thud against the window, causing Jace to jump and Syrax to almost slip and fall from his shoulder.

Jace hastily leaned forward to unlock and open the window to let a very distressed Cannibal into the room, the bird squawking loudly as he landed on Jace's knee.

Jace attempted to calm the bird down, but nothing seemed to work. Cannibal hopped of the prince's knee, hovering in the air, as though miming himself flying in the sky. He then suddenly dived onto the unmade bed, hiding behind the bedpost, staring at the ground like he were spying on something.

Jumping onto the bedroom floor, he covered his left eye with his wing, his beak upturned in an almost sinister grin as he let out a choked squawk that bordered on a laugh, pointing at his chest with his other wing. Hopping to face the other way, he pinned his wings by his side, wiggling his body from side to side.

Jace rose to his feet and hurried over to the desk, grabbing a sheet of parchment. He opened the ink bottle, dipping the quill inside several times before scrawling onto the parchment. Black ink dropped onto the parchment, and his handwriting was nothing short of a scratchy sprawl that was just about readable. He lifted the parchment to show Cannibal and Syrax, who had joined the bird on the floor.

'Aemond and Vhagar?'

Cannibal squawked loudly, jumping in the air, covering his head in an almost facepalm.

Jace's brows were furrowed in evident confusion as he watched Cannibal try to get his point across again.

He hopped to the side, raising his wing over his head, feathers arranged to mimic your hair.

'Y/N?'

Cannibal nodded with another squawk before continuing.

He walked a few steps pretending to be you before resuming his Aemond persona, creeping up behind where he had been you seconds before, once again letting out that strange laugh, his wing patting his chest as though holding something. His other wing stretched out towards where you would be standing, feathers wiggling slightly. From an outside perspective, the sight would look almost comical, but Jace was too concerned over what Aemond could be up to properly notice.

'Aemond's necklace?'

The bird nodded again before flapping to the dresser and grabbing the dinglehopper resting atop it, holding it in one wing and up in the air jabbing it in random directions across the room.

'My mother? Her trident?'

Cannibal dropped the fork, returning to being Aemond once again and picking it up, then miming placing a crown atop his head.

'Aemond is going to steal the throne from my mother?'

Clearly growing impatient, Cannibal flew up to hover in front of Jace's face, squawking loudly at him before returning to the ground and bringing his wings together.

Jace placed the parchment down, his expression clearing as he grabbed the quill again, hand trembling slightly as he brought it down.

'Has he cast a spell on her? So I fail by sunset and he can then use my soul to trap my mother for the throne?'

Cannibal cawed softly, his head bowing in a single nod.

Jace dragged a hand through his curls, his jaw clenching and eyes steeling in resolve. He grabbed Syrax, stuffing the crab in his pocket before bolting out the room, Cannibal hot on his tail.

Upon reaching the port, he placed Syrax down on the ground, his chest heaving in deep breaths from sprinting down there. The setting sun was cast on the water's surface, making it seem like liquid gold. The boat, your wedding boat, was sailing towards the horizon.

Before the sun sets on the third day...

He didn't have much time, but he knew he had to at least try to save you from Aemond, even if he couldn't save himself.

Without hesitating, he leaped rather clumsily into the water, hearing Cannibal's squawk of alarm before sinking into the cold depths below.

It was a strange feeling, opening his eyes to the stinging rush of the water blinding him, arms flailing to keep himself afloat and break through the surface to breathe. He had no co ordination in his legs, which desperately kicked out beneath him to propel himself upwards.

He couldn't swim.

He suddenly felt himself being pushed upwards towards the surface, soon feeling the sun's dwindling warmth as he broke through, letting out choked splutters as oxygen filled his lungs again. Cannibal was hovering overhead, Syrax now balanced on one of the many barrels she had no doubt cut free to help support him, and Vermax appeared beside him, guiding him towards it.

He nodded in thanks to his companion, holding onto the barrel and resting his head against it as he caught his breath, wet curls plastered on his forehead.

Syrax dived beneath the water. When she resurfaced, she had the rope tied around the barrel between her claws, which she then tied around Vermax, pointing towards the boat. Jace began to kick out with his legs to help his friend while Cannibal flew off, loudly screeching as he did so. Jace's gaze was fixed on the boat, his kicks growing more and more forceful.

Syrax watched them for a short while, making sure they were on track to hopefully reach the boat in time before diving underwater once again and swimming in a different direction to find Rhaenyra.

The boat had seemed to come to a stop, making Jace and Vermax's journey that much easier. But as they grew closer to the grand vessel, far more impressive than the ship he had saved you from what now seemed like years ago, the soft melodies from the musicians sent a ripple of sickness through him.

The ceremony must have begun.

He had hoped that he could find you alone without involving any of your people. He didn't want to expose he or Aemond to them. That could give Daemon the excuse he needed to declare war on the surface, and he had enough issues to deal with as it was.

But you were the priority for the moment.

One problem at a time.

If he had to interrupt the ceremony and attract the entire kingdom's attention, that's what he would do.

Vermax pulled him to where the anchor was docked so he could grab the chain to pull himself up towards the deck. The metal dug uncomfortably into his palms, but he held on tightly nonetheless as he turned to his closest companion, giving him a small smile. He held out a hand for the fish to lean his head against for a moment before beginning to climb.

Whether that would be a bittersweet farewell or a simple a brief goodbye would remain to be seen.

Every one of his muscles ached and burned with fatigue as he continued his climb, but he still persisted, fuelled by his determination to save you from Aemond's clutches. He glanced down as he reached the deck, only to find Vermax gone, the barrel floating away, the rope untied, the water directly beneath him rippling slightly from someone- or thing- sinking beneath the surface.

Jace peered over the top of the deck, watching as you walked down the aisle. His breath hitched in his throat at the sight of you, of how breathtaking you looked. Any warmth he felt from seeing you disappeared when his gaze moved to where Aemond stood waiting for you, a small, yet rather smug, smirk on his face, arms clasped behind his back. His platinum locks were half tied back out of his face, a leather patch covering his scarred eye. He was dressed entirely in black leather, and seemed as though he would be more suited for a funeral rather than a wedding, a stark contrast to your angelic beauty.

Following you was Max, carrying a blue velvet cushion in his mouth to a chorus of aws from the crowd. He placed the cushion between you and Aemond, a low growl rumbling in his throat as he glared up at the latter. Yet you just stood there, staring blankly straight ahead. Aemond glanced towards the crowd for a moment before gesturing to the officiant to begin.

"Dearly beloved..."

Seeing everyone distracted, Aemond took that opportunity to kick Max away, the dog whimpering softly but appearing unharmed as he stalked away to sit by Grimsby. As Aemond had raised his leg, a flash of metal caught Jace's attention, and he just about managed to see a glimpse of the dragon glass dagger strapped to Aemond's side beneath his overcoat. His hands gripped the side of the ship tightly, cheeks flushed scarlet in anger as he watched Aemond grab your hands tightly, his eye raking your figure in a most sinful way, practically undressing you with his eyes.

Swinging a leg over the side of the boat, Jace crept onto the deck of the boat as quietly as he could, crouching down to sneak behind the back row.

"Do you, Aemond, take Y/N to be your lawfully wedded wife, for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do," Jace heard Aemond reply, an air of smugness in his tone. And he had every right to be. The sun was nearly set beneath the horizon. Jace wasn't exactly sure what he was going to do, but he needed to act now.

A soft squawk above Jace alerted the prince, and he glanced up to see Cannibal flying overhead, followed by an entire flock of gulls. Jace followed the bird's gaze to where Aemond was stood, too engrossed by you to notice.

Until they dove towards him, that is, attacking on his left side.

Aemond managed to duck before they reached him though, glaring at the flock as they circled back around, no doubt for a second attempt.

The distraction allowed for Jace to edge around to the opposite side of the boat to get towards you. As he crept closer and closer, he heard cries of alarm in the crowd, followed by a scream as a heard of sea lions flopped onboard.

Jace ducked down behind a chair to avoid Aemond's gaze, the guests having since ran from their seats to escape the animal's path, leaving you and Aemond stood at the alter. Out of the corner of his eyes, Jace saw your guards raise their weapons to the animals.

He pushed the chair out of the way, standing between them and the sea lions, hands outstretched as he frantically shook his head at them.

"Stop! Don't shoot!" Grimsby had pushed his way to the front of the crowd. "Do not shoot. They won't harm her!"

"You!"

Jace turned to meet Aemond's glare, trying not to let the way you had grabbed your captor's arm for protection get to him.

'She is under a spell. She doesn't love him', he reminded himself, but it stung all the same.

Aemond opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment a circling pelican swooped down and dump its full beak of water on top of Aemond, drenching him completely. Aemond opened his good eye, his lips pressed into a thin line. There was a still silence so thick that even the strongest of swords could struggle to cut through.

Once again, Aemond opened his mouth to speak, but all that left his mouth was a yelp of pain as Max bit down on his leg. He kicked out his leg in an attempt to wrestle the dog off of him, but the animal's jaws were like a vice.

"Max! Max, let go now!" You yelled, glaring down at the dog, who slowly loosened his hold on Aemond, shrinking away from you.

Aemond smirked at Jace, despite his appearance, gesturing to the nearly disappeared sun.

Jace stepped towards you, his hand reaching out to brush against your upper arm. You turned to face him, the expression on your face one of pure indifference. Max crept behind jace, nuzzling against his other hand for comfort.

"Yes?" You raised an eyebrow.

Jace desperately searched his mind for anything, anything, that he could do to break Aemond's hold. But how could he? He wasn't educated in magic. He knew nothing of it. And he couldn't even try to talk to you in hopes of getting through to you.

A loud, shrill squawk behind you cause both you and Jace's gaze to turn to where Aemond had now grabbed Cannibal by the throat, the bird's beak clamped down on his pendant, glowing a vivid sapphire blue.

Of course.

The realisation dawned on Jace.

Aemond's source of magic.

He moved past you, crashing into Aemond and sending the both of them crashing to the floor. Upon impact, Aemond let go of Cannibal, sending the bird flying along with the pendant, which landed on the ground. Separated from the user of its magic, it shattered on impact with the boat's deck. From the shards of dragon glass arose a small ball of blue light, Jace's voice singing that song echoing from within as it floating towards him, leaving a small plume of blue smoke in its wake.

Jace watched as your hand came to clutch your head, your eyes flashing a vivid blue for a moment as the spell over you broke. You glanced down at your dress, before looking back up, a look of pure confusion on your face. Aemond had staggered to hit feet, glaring at Jace.

He let the voice float towards him, his voice growing louder the closer it came, circling around him and rising upward until it reached his throat, the light fading but the song growing stronger, this time coming from Jace.

Gone was the burning pain in his throat whenever he would open his mouth, or the constant sore hoarseness that brewed at the back of his mouth. Instead, he finally felt complete. There wasn't the feeling of having a sort of compression inside of him, the barrier had been lifted.

He turned to you, a smile spreading across his face as you stepped towards him, that usual warmth in your eyes replacing the vacantness that Aemond had created.

You came to stand in front of him. "Jace? It... it was really you?" Your voice was quiet, but thick with emotion.

Jace reached out, taking your hand in his slightly trembling on. "It's me."

You smiled warmly up at him. "I knew it," You whispered. "A part of me... it knew you were the one." Your grip on his hand tightened slightly as you pulled him closer towards you.

"Y/N, get away from him," Aemond growled, but you didn't listen. You didn't even grant him the courtesy of looking in his direction, keeping your eyes locked with Jace's.

"Y/N, I wanted to tell you... I couldn't he..." Jace tried to explain, but you shushed him, his forehead resting against yours.

"It's okay, Jace. It's okay," You whispered, taking his head in your hands.

"Y/N, no!"

Jace's ignored Aemond, his gaze flickering briefly down to your lips. He knew he needed to kiss you, but couldn't bring himself to do it without you wishing it. But you smiled, giving him a nod, tilting your head towards him slightly.

Jace leaned forwards, his lips a breath away from yours when a searing pain cut straight up his legs, causing him to crumple to the ground in your arms.

"Jace? Jace, what's wrong?" You asked. "Your leg?"

"No, no don't..." He weakly pleaded as you rolled his trouser leg up

He gritted his teeth in pain, his entire body tensed as he watched the skin on his legs shed into scales.

"What the... you're... you're a merman?" You whispered, eyes widened in shock.

"I tried to tell you..." Jace replied, ripping his trousers off to free his fully reformed tail. "I'm... I'm sorry..."

"Jace..."

"You're too late, nephew."

Jace looked up as Aemond came to stand in the centre of the deck, the triumphant smirk returning to his face. "You're too late," He chuckled darkly thunder rumbling overhead. A bolt of blue lightning crashed down and struck Aemond directly, and when the flash faded, Aemond had also returned to his natural form, those six tentacles replacing his legs to a chorus of gasps from the crowd.

One of his tentacles suddenly shot out and grabbed Jace by the tail, dragging him towards the edge of the boat and throwing him overboard.

"Leave him alone!" You yelled, rising to your feet and moving to follow them, but Aemond's tentacles kept you back.

"I apologise that our union was rudely interrupted, ñuha dārilaros," He smirked at you, one tentacle wrapping around your waist and pulling you to him as he ripped off his eyepatch to reveal the sapphire underneath. He knew that you would not look upon it with disgust like everyone else did. "But do not worry..." He continued, another tentacle creeping under your dress and up your leg. As the tip brushed against your clothed cunt, you let out a small gasp, causing his smirk to widen. "I will return for you soon... and I have every intention of making you mine..."

And with that, he released you and dove overboard.

Jace hadn't managed to swim far.

Not with Vhagar circling the shape, the massive beast circling him, trapping him for when Aemond joined them, that blue eye of hers glowing dimmer than before, but still glowing nonetheless.

"Poor, poor prince," Aemond's mocking tone alerted Jace to his arrival. "Poor little nephew."

"Do not mock me, uncle!" Jace exclaimed, hands clenched into fists by his side as Vhagar disappeared into the kelp below. "You cheated."

"Hm..." Aemond tilted his head to the side. "I do not recall our contract saying that I could not interfere. Love comes with its challenges and I merely wished-"

"No. You wanted her and used me to get to her. And then so you could kill me!" Jace interrupted.

"Don't be so dramatic, nephew," Aemond smirked, a tentacle grabbing his arm to pull him along behind him. "It is not even you that I am after. Not really anyway. There's a much bigger fish that I have to-"

"Aemond!"

The exiled prince's smirk widened as he turned to face Rhaenyra, her trident pointing directly at his throat.

"Sister," He greeted. "How are you?"

"Let my son go." She demanded, her eyes alight with a fire that concealed the worry behind them.

"Not a chance, sister," Aemond replied, his hold on Jace tightening. "He's mine now. We made a deal." His voice progressively grew in its mocking tone as he brandished the gold scroll with Jace's contract on. Rhaenyra's gaze scanned the scroll, her expression contorting to one of horror.

"I-I'm sorry, mother! I... I'm sorry, he-"

"Hush now, nephew. Can you not see we are having a conversation?" Aemond interrupted him, another tentacle wrapped around Jace's mouth to silence him. "Now, sister, where were we?"

Rhaenyra glared at Aemond, and pointed her trident at where the scroll was dangling from his grasp, a jet of gold light striking it with the intention of destroying it, but instead it harmlessly rebounded, the scroll now glowing bright blue.

"You see, sister? The contract's legal. Binding and completely unbreakable," Aemond replied smugly. "Even for you." He smirked, knowing he had her trapped. This was a plan, years in the making, finally being executed. And it was so satisfying for Aemond to watch unfold. "Of course, I always was someone with an eye for a bargain, so to speak. And the son of the great, powerful queen of the oceans is a rather precious commodity, do you not think?"

He relaxed his tentacles, both the contract and Jace being released, but before the prince could swim to Rhaenyra, the scroll stretching and fading into blue light which then surrounded Jace, spinning around him like a tornado.

"But, I also consider myself as reasonable, and I could be willing to make an exchange for someone... for something... even better..." Aemond added, a tentacle reaching out towards Rhaenyra's crown, making her flinch away from him in disgust.

"If you think..." Rhaenyra began, but when her gaze shifted to Jace, she faltered.

The light surrounding Jace had grown brighter as it slowly drained his strength, the prince beginning to shrink, his face hollowing and skin shrivelling. Yet he still managed to shake his head at his mother, despite knowing that it would likely prove pointless.

Aemond smirked at the sight, a new contract appearing before Rhaenyra. "Do we have a deal?"

"Mother... don't..." Jace gasped out, but Rhaenyra simply gave her son a small smile, raising her trident once again and with another flash of gold, her name was signed at the bottom.

"It's done," Aemond murmured, the scroll rolling itself up and disappearing. He waved his hand, and the blue whirlpool surrounding Jace grew and moved to instead enclose around Rhaenyra. The light burned harsher, shrinking and shrinking before dissipating to reveal Rhaenyra, once the proud ruler of Atlantica, nothing more than another soul claimed by Aemond, a grotesque creature identical to the hundreds of others trapped in Aemond's lair.

Jace swam over to where Rhaenyra was, her sad eyes gazing up at him as he shook his head. "Mother... I'm so... oh gods, I'm so sorry..." He bowed his head, eyes squeezed shut. When he lifted his head, Syrax had joined him, her whole form bowed down before her companion, who could only stare.

Aemond chuckled cruelly at Jace, lifting Rhaenyra's crown to place atop his own head. "At last... it's mine.." He murmured, lifting the trident as Jace turned to glare up at him.

"You are not even the heir!"

"I will be by the rising of dawn, taoba!" Aemond snarled in response. "When I eradicate Rhaenyra's entire lineage, the throne will be mine."

"Then Aegon will-"

"You think my drunken fool of a brother would dare oppose me?" Aemond tilted his head to the side. "Naïve, nephew. So naïve."

"You're a monster!" Jace spat at him, lunging forwards, but Aemond's tentacle smacked into him and sent him flying to the seafloor.

"Monster? No, nephew. A monster is the fool who banished me when her brat of a son removed my eye. A monster is the so called just and noble queen who banished me for demanding retribution for my permanent scarring. A monster... is responsible for the death of my mother, and she sealed the fate she is now subject to the day she sent me away." He pointed the trident towards Jace. "So don't you think for a second, nephew, that you can fool with me by branding me the monster. You foolish, little-" Aemond suddenly let out a grunt of pain, his free hand flying to where blood clouded the water from the graze on his upper arm.

Jace looked behind his uncle, spotting you several metres away, glaring at Aemond. Beside Jace, was a spear lodged into the seabed.

"Y/N, get back to the surface-" Jace began, but a tentacle clamped back around his mouth.

Aemond sent his nephew a small smirk as he raised his trident towards you. "What do you think nephew? Hm, it is tempting. However... even if someone doesn't seem to love you at first, there are other ways that you can claim them mentally... and physically." His lips curled into a grin as you shrank back slightly. "Yes, I can just put her under my spell again, and in time, she may return my love for her. But whether she does or doesn't is irrelevant... she'll be mine... and never yours, nephew."

Jace once again lunged towards Aemond, but was pinned down by several more tentacles.

"Oh nephew, do not humiliate yourself," He smirked, moving the trident slowly. Your gaze followed its path to where the ship was floating above the water a distance away, your face contorting into one of pure anger. You immediately began swimming as fast as you could to the surface.

"Vhagar, tolī zirȳla!" Aemond exclaimed, his beast emerging from the undergrowth on his orders. [after her]

Jace thrashed around, but his restraints held firm, rendering him helpless. He could only watch as you broke the surface for a mere moment, managing to splutter out something towards the boat before Vhagar dragged you back down again, her tail wrapping around you like a boa constrictor.

"I wish for you to witness this, ," Aemond said to you, once again pointing his trident to the ship. "I love you... but that does not mean I cannot hurt you."

Jace desperately strained against Aemond's hold, managing to break his arm free. He leaned forward, using all of his strength to grab the only thing he could.

Aemond's hair.

He yanked on it as hard and fast at he could, causing Aemond to grunt in pain as his head was rapidly pulled back, knocking him off balance just as the trident glowed gold, causing a flash to shoot out from the trident away from the boat. Instead, it struck Vhagar directly in the heart, causing the beast to explode into nothing more than a few shredded scales that floated to the seabed.

"No... Vhagar..." Aemond breathed, outstretching his hand to where she was, her scales falling onto his hand.

Jace pushed the tentacles off of him, hurriedly swimming over to where you were once again making your way to the surface. He pushed you upwards, one hand resting on your waist as he helped you.

You let out a choked gasp as you grabbed ahold of the small rowboat you had used to reach Jace, letting out a series of coughs.

Jace kept his hold on your waist. "Are you alright?" He asked worriedly, and you nodded in response, air filling your lungs.

"Yes... yes I... I'm fine..."

"Y/N, you need to get out of her," Jace urged.

"No, Jace-"

"You don't understand-"

"I can't leave you!" You insisted, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck. "I'm not leaving you..."

"Y/N, I-" Jace began, but his gaze travelled to the water surrounding you both.

Even with just the silver glow of the moon and the distant light from the boat, he could tell it was clouded black with ink.

"Y/N... you need to get back to the ship-" Jace began, but a trembling beneath you both stopped him in his tracks.

"Jace, what-" You let out a gasp as you and Jace were both lifted from the water, separated by the spike of a crown. You gripped hold of the metal tightly, refusing to look away from Jace as Aemond emerged from the water.

"Jump!" Jace yelled, reaching over and grabbing her hand, the both of them leaping down beneath the waves.

Jace immediately pulled you protectively behind him as you stared up at Aemond towering above you. He must have been at least twenty feet tall, his eyes alight with pure, unbridled fury.

"You are a fool, nephew," He sneered at Jace, voice deep and booming louder than any thunder that rumbled in the storm clouds overheard. A tentacle came crashing down between the two of you, causing Jace to push you away out of its path.

"I now rule the ocean, Jacaerys! Even the waves obey my every whim! The sea, and all it's spoils will now bow to my power. And you... you will face my wrath," A wide grin now appeared on his face as he raised the trident and brought it down into the water, circling it around Jace to create a whirlpool around the prince sending him spiralling to the seabed, the water ensnaring him, trapping him on a rock. Lightning lit up the sky, the waves growing more violent, sweeping you further and further away from Jace and closer towards Aemond. All around you, wrecked ship broke through the surface, the barnacle encrusted wood rotting and the faded sails torn.

You grabbed ahold of a ship that swept by, holding onto the wood as tightly as you could, small splinters digging into the flesh of your palm. As the ship swerved away from Aemond, you took the opportunity to climb aboard. It seemed relatively newer than the other resurfaced wreckages, despite it's dire condition. Grabbing ahold of the wheel that was spinning out of control, you looked over to where Aemond was shooting lightning down at Jace from the trident.

"Just hold on a little while longer, Jace," You murmured, turning the wheel with the current and towards Aemond. Fortunately for you, the waves were heading directly towards him, the strong winds propelling you forward.

"Come now, nephew. You cannot evade this fate!" Aemond taunted. "Do not worry, I will take good care of her. So much for your true love, hm?"

He raised the trident once again, but before he could bring it down upon Jace, you steered the boat directly into him, the bowsprit, jagged from being broken, impaling him directly in the gut. Aemond yelled out in pain as you jumped off the ship, swimming away as fast as you could against the current. Turning back for a moment, you saw Aemond fall back as lightning shot through him, his eyes rolling back as he sank beneath the waves with a violent crash, sending a mass tidal wave that swept you along with it. You were smothered by the wave, only managing to resurface for long enough to take another gasp of air before being dragged under again.

You waited it out, managing to stay afloat as the wave calmed, treading the water as you looked behind you for any sight of Jace.

But all you saw was dark blue smoke billowing upwards towards the sky.

You let out a deep breath, keeping your head above the water as you kicked towards the beach, visibly close. The moment your feet made contact with the seabed, you practically crawled onto the sand, every muscle, every bone, every cell in your body completely exhausted.

"Y/N!"

Your head turned to the side to see Grimsby and Max running towards you from further down the beach, the ship a short distance away. The wave must have swept them up as well.

"Grim..." You murmured, gripping onto his arm tightly as he helped you to your feet, Max jumping up at you, glad that you were back to being yourself again. You gave him a soft smile, gently stroking his head.

"Oh heavens. Y/N, are you alright?"

"Fine..." You replied, glancing down at your tattered dress, completely soaked through.

"Come, now, princess. We must get you in a warm bath, and fresh clothes-"

"No! Grimsby, I need to wait for Jace and see if he's okay."

"Y/N, as your closest advisor, I strongly... well... advise... that you at least get some food in your stomach."

You sighed, still staring out at the horizon.

"If you survived, I have no doubt that he did as well," Grimsby said gently.

"Fine," You muttered. "I'll go and change. But you're staying here to look out for him."

"A-as you wish... but Y/N, will you not need help to get to the castle-"

"No," You replied firmly, already trudging up to the castle, your bare feet dragging slightly on the sand, Max right on your heels.

Carlotta was anxiously waiting by the castle gates upon your arrival, rushing over to you and immediately fussing over your rather bedraggled appearance. You brushed her off, walking to your chambers to change.

You felt sick to the stomach at the white shirts, the blue dresses and black trousers... anything in those colours that only reminded you of Aemond... of what he had done...

You threw them out of your wardrobe, ordering Johanna to wash them and take them into town to donate to anyone who needed them.

"May I make a suggestion, princess?" Carlotta spoke up.

"I would appreciate that," You sighed.

"I have the perfect one for you," She smiled knowingly, waiting for you to step aside so she could reach into the wardrobe, taking a hanger from the rail and holding it up to you. "Well? What do you think, princess?"

"I think..." You murmured, cocking your head to the side in contemplation. "That it's perfect."

Jace had watched as the whirlpool around him disappeared. He had seen Aemond collapse, watched as he sank out of view. Swimming to where he had fallen, he found his uncle, now back to his usual size, a rather large wound to his abdomen staining the water with a reddish hue. He reached down, taking the crown off his head, looking down at it.

He couldn't imagine it atop his head.

Feeling a warm hand rest on his shoulder, he turned to find his mother, restored to her full self, smiling down at him.

"Mother..." He murmured. "I... I'm so..." He bowed his head, letting out a deep breath. "I'm so sorry..."

"Oh, Jace," Rhaenyra tilted his chin upwards. "I'm the one who should be sorry. I shouldn't have pushed you away. Destroyed you beautiful collection. Can you ever forgive me?"

"Only if you forgive me," He whispered, immediately being pulled into her warm embrace. He immediately wrapped his arms around her tightly. When they broke apart, he reached down to where the trident laid several feet away from Aemond, holding it out to his mother, who took it from him with an appreciative smile.

"I can't... become king..." He sighed. "Not... not here."

"I know, my darling," Rhaenyra sighed, her free hand resting on his cheek. "The matter of my heir will be settled in due time-"

"Baela would be a good candidate," Jace spoke up.

"Indeed she would," Rhaenyra softly smiled.

"Jace? You're alive!" Luke exclaimed as he swam over.

"Luke, I told you to stay at the palace."

"I did, mother. I stayed for half an hour, and then left to follow you," He replied, faltering slightly as he saw Aemond's corpse. He stared down at the body, letting out a small scoff. "Well thank the gods," He muttered.

"Luke," Rhaenyra warned.

"He was a monster, mother. He tried to kill me!"

"Well, he's dead now. Thanks to your brother."

"Actually, it wasn't me," Jace piped up. "It was Y/N's."

"Y/N?"

Jace sighed, glancing up to where the water's surface was glowing orange with the dawn.

"Jace?"

"I need to show you something."

"Jace... if this is going where I think it is-"

"Please," Jace's eyes were pleading. "Please, mother."

Rhaenyra shared a glance with Luke, who nodded in encouragement. She let out a small sigh. "Very well."

Jace could sense Rhaenyra apprehension as they looked out towards the beach, the rocky shore that had greeted him after making his deal with Aemond separating them from the land.

"Is that her?" Luke asked, pointing towards where you were hurrying down the beach. All Jace could do was nod in response, his lips parted slightly as he gazed at you in awe.

You were dressed in a glittering red gown, the bottom of the skirt grasped in your hand. It had thin straps across your shoulders and a cowl neckline, hugging your curves perfectly. Your hair was loose, and still damp, your face void of any makeup, those ruby earrings you bought at the market dangling from your ears.

And to Jace, you had never looked more beautiful.

"Nice," Luke grinned with an approving nod, earning a glare from both his mother and older brother. "She's pretty..." He mumbled.

Jace swam forward, hoisting himself up on a rock, the very same rock that he sat on when he'd saved you on your birthday. He watched you walk along the beach, your gaze fixed on the horizon, Max barking happily at your feet.

"What is that?" Luke exclaimed. "It's all... weird and hairy!"

"Hush now, Luke," Rhaenyra murmured, her gaze resting on her eldest son. There was a soft smile on her face, but her eyes were brimmed with sadness. "He really does love her, doesn't he?"

"Must do," Luke replied. "I mean, he was ready to sell us to Aemond for her so... ow!" He yelped as Syrax, who had joined them on a nearby rock, pinched his arm in disapproval.

"He does, doesn't he?" Rhaenyra repeated her question, this time directing it towards her companion, who nodded in response.

"I was never truly permitted to be free and lead my own life," She mused. "It was expected of me to take the throne, I was raised for it. And there was no other worthy heir to claim it in my stead. It is just a shame... that it took him going to Aemond of all people to make me realise that I should not expect my children to suffer that same fate." She nodded to herself. "I suppose only one problem that remains..."

"And... what is that?" Luke asked, gently rubbing his reddened arm from where Syrax had pinched him.

"How much I am going to miss him..." She sighed.

Luke gazed up at his mother as she lowered the tip of the trident down on the oceans surface, casting a small ripple that grew as it came closer to Jace, the water surrounding the rock glowing gold.

Jace looked down as the gold consumed his tail, turning back to his mother in shock that soon turned into a soft smile as the light consumed him.

Max let out an excited bark, taking off down the beach, you hot on his tail.

You stepped into the water, the gentle waves lapping around your ankles and your free hand coming to shield your eyes from the bright light. When it faded, you expected to see Jace, but you were greeted with nothing.

Your shoulders heaved in a silent sigh, your head shaking in disappointment as you turned away, but Max letting out another bark caused you to turn back, a wide smile spreading across your face.

Jace emerged from beneath the waves. He was walking towards you on legs, dressed in a crisp white shirt and burgundy trousers, his chocolate brown curls fluttering in the sea breeze.

The moment he laid eyes on you, he broke out into a run, with you rushing towards him as well, throwing yourself into his arms. Jace lifted you up and span your around, his hold on you tight, as though you would slip from his grasp again.

But you weren't going to let go.

When he placed you back on the ground, Max excitedly circling around you both as you took his face in your hands and pressed your lips to his.

Jace immediately sank into the kiss, his heart fluttering.

"I love you," He murmured as you broke apart, his forehead resting on yours.

You smiled, hands sliding upwards to tangle in his curls. "And I love you, Jace. So much," You whispered.

A/N: One more part left...

…All I'm going to say is I hope you enjoyed the sweetness of this ending because Aemond's ending is going to be complete filth.

Hint: it involves tentacles.

Masterlist

Tag list:

@thekittyxo-blog @iamavailablesstuff @eggofpower @thatbitchanna27 @aleemendoza2425-blog @ekavamonfort @rhaenattargaryen @ewwwitsel @marytargaryen @snowprincesa1 @bes2005 @audigay @whodis-26 @sweethoneyblossom1 @smayhem @yeahright0h @itlover8000 @hiraethrhapsody @bellstwd @xxvelvetxxxx @jacesvelaryons @aj3684 @watercolorskyy

If you want to be added to the tag list for this story, for any characters or my hotd fics in general, feel free to ask

[kabrumithrun]

New Fic: Where Does a Body End?

https://ift.tt/zp09lnA by subwoofer An advancement in Mithrun's relationship with Kabru causes some unwanted memories to re-emerge. Words: 5164, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: ダンジョン飯 | Dungeon Meshi | Delicious in Dungeon Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Mithrun of the House of Kerensil, Kabru (Dungeon Meshi) Relationships: Kabru/Mithrun of the House of Kerensil Additional Tags: Flashbacks, Non Consensual Daemon Touching, There's A Tag For That, Wow!, Smut, Size Kink, Post-Canon https://ift.tt/zp09lnA

[wangxianficfinder]

Heavy Angst

~*~

I will find you by ThisIsWhereTheMagicHappens (T, 13k, wangxian, modern au, heavy angst w/ happy ending, hurt/comfort, panic attacks)

【银 劍 探 心】| Silver Jian Seeking Hearts by stiltonbasket (M, 21k, wangxian, tgcf fusion, calamity lwj, reincarnation, heavy angst w/ happy ending, WIP)

💖 Mo Dao Zu Shi: The Musical by ILikeReading101 (Not rated, 117k, wangxian, major character death, angst, grief/mourning, temporary character death, song fic, time travel, pain, suffering, happiness, family feels, happy ending, be aware of all the tags, WIP)

🧡Misunderstood by Silver_Flame_2724 (M, 250k, wangxian, heavy angst, fluff, eventual happy ending, implied/referenced rape/non-con, misunderstandings, self-harm, self-hatred, family fluff, mental breakdown, cannibalism, reincarnation, WIP 31/33)

❤️ And Miles To Go Before I Sleep by Glitterbombshell (T, 23k, WIP, WangXian, Heavy Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, LXC is not really a good brother in this sorry, Canon Divergence, rogue cultivator!lwj)

The dreamers. by orange_crushed (E, 17k, wangxian, spells & enchantments, dreamsharing, smut, war is hell, heavy angst w/ happy ending, temporary character death, resurrection, loss of identity, hurt/comfort, trauma, memory loss, marriage proposal)

a shattering of souls by coffee_and_cardamom (M, 42k, wangxian, major character death, canon compliant, daemon au, heavy angst w/ happy ending, hurt/comfort, feels, blood & gore, dub con, protective LWJ, daemon touching, daemon separation)

Seeking Solace by DragonHeart (Taer01) & Taer01 (M, 85k, wangxian, major character death, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, mental anguish, mental instability, blood & gore & injury, implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced rape/non-con, implied/referenced torture, fluff, WIP)

💖 myself through someone else’s eyes series by thunderwear (M, 59k, wangxian, LJY & LSZ, LXC/NMJ, LXC/JGY, JC & WWX, post-canon, permanent de-aging, depression, implied/referenced suicide, accidental baby acquisation, getting together, love confessions, heavy angst w/ happy ending)

总有一天; a place to hide (can’t find one near) by yiqie (E, 76k, WangXian, Modern AU, Pianist, Getting Together, Mental Health Issues, Suicide Attempt, Suicidal Thoughts, Depression, Hospitals, Overdosing, Eventual Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Additional Warnings In Author's Note)

blue skies forever Series by rikke (M, 11k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, major character death in a necromantic way, necrophilia also in a necromantic way, canon divergence with the bad ending route, lwj is wwx's corpse boyfriend)

the best good thing by almostsophie1 (T, 12k, WangXian, Space, Post-Apocalypse, Touch-Starved, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Hurt/Comfort)

a star called sun by thelastdboy (E, 76k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Heavy Angst, Self-Worth issues, Amputation, Situational Mutism, Slow burn, Angst with a happy ending)

to remember names of plants series by detention_notes (T, 8k, wangxian, diary/journal, character study, angst, parenthood, pining, anger & fear, found family, grief/mourning, reminiscing, yearning, canonical character death)

happy and beautiful by nienie (T, 1k, LQY/WWX, one-sided wangxian, modern, angst, jealousy, hurt no comfort, weddings)

Traditions of Grief by ReleasedFromHisCage (Not rated, <1k, wangxian, major character death, angst, grief/mourning, hurt no comfort, canon compliant)

As the world caves in by LiveLoveLesbian (G, <1k, wangxian, major character death, modern, protective WWX, established relationship, inspired by don’t look up, fluff, hurt no comfort)

Cut Him Out in Little Stars by ChaoticAndrogynous (E, 69k, wangxian, major character death, graphic depictions of violence, canonical character death, grief/mourning, existential angst, angst w/ happy ending, memory loss, dementia, suicidal thoughts, battlefield surgery, blood & injury, immortality, loneliness, isolation, consensual non-con)

Salt to the Sea by Starmins (M, 31k, wangxian, JYL & WWX, modern, grief/mourning, roadtrips, canonical character death, love & loss)

see you yesterday by glyphic (M, 138k, wangxian, time loop, modern w/ magic, memory loss, case fic, WIP)

❤️ whipstitch by curiositykilled (M, 131k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Dysfunctional Family, Torture, WWX Lives, but basically no one else, Case Fic, Cultivation Sect Politics, Past Abuse, WWX Whump, YL WWX, JL Needs a Hug, JL Tries, Yunmeng Bro Reconciliation, Past Character Death, Body Horror, Non-Consensual Body Modification, POV Alternating, Flashbacks, Eventual Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Suicide Attempt, PTSD, Depression, Not A Fix-It, Mouth Sewn Shut)

Dead Not Gone by Tysis (T, 22k, wangxian, fix-it of sorts, Wens live, JYL & JZX live, ghost WWX, protective juniors, angst w/ happy ending, semipermanent hiatus, unfinished)

Velle: To Will, To Wish by Aerlalaith (T, 30k, wangxian, angst, hurt/comfort, blood & injury, injury recovery, canonical temporary character death, father-son relationship, family issues, healing, grief/mourning, trauma, nightmares, single parent LWJ, learning to parent)

🧡Discarded by teawater (E, 178k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Dying Lan children, Hurt/Comfort, YL WWX, Golden Core Reveal, Case Fic, Depression, Family Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Worth Issues, Angst with a Happy Ending, and it's not always dark, POV Multiple, BAMF WWX, dubious morals in the Lan sect Feels, Pining, Grief, Fix-It, BAMF LWJ)

Sacrifices Made with Blood by NocturnalFriend (M, 80k, WIP, WangXian, Time Travel, Trauma, Eventual Healing, Trust Issues, Hurt/Comfort, Character Death, he get's better though, Temporary Character Death, Fix-It of Sorts, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Time Shenanigans, Idiots in Love, nielan (implied), past!LXC is a mess, Angst with a Happy Ending, Wanxian gets a happy ending, Temporary Mute Character, Sick Character, sick lwj, fusion of canon, Heavy Angst)

For the Dust and the Dirt by Nyxelestia (M, 63k, WIP, WangXian, ChengQing, Time Travel, Fix-It of Sorts, Torture, Aftermath of Torture, PTSD, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, fix it after breaking it worse, Recovery, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Eventual Happy Ending, Mystery, Sort Of, Starts With Heavy Hurt, But Lots of Comfort After, WWX Whump, Mentions of homophobia, Self-Loathing, Módào Zǔshī & The Untamed Combination)

Letting go of self-restraint by Mydla (E, 134k, WangXian, Omega Verse, Trauma, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Flashbacks, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Self Confidence Issues, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Panic Attacks, Implied/Referenced Torture, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Angst with a Happy Ending, Light BDSM, Canon Divergence, Miscommunication, Eventual Smut)

Every Scar has a Story to Tell by Cinder46231 (M, 121k, WIP, Hurt/comfort, Angst with a happy ending, Implied/referenced Child abuse, Self-Harm, Self-Worth issues)

out in the garden, there’s things you hid away by saltyfeathers (E, 121k, wangxian, post-canon, possession, animal death, mass death event, suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt, hurt/comfort, WWX centric, bodily fluids, serious injuries, angst w/ happy ending)

~*~

[mock-arts]

Coming soon, Thursday, March 23, 2023, for the @codywanbigbang, from Team 25

@blog-o-randomness

@mock-arts

& @ecarian:

An Hourglass in Hand

Rating: M

Word Count: 25k+

Pairing: Codywan

Major Warnings/Tags: Daemon AU; Descriptions of Animal Harm; Descriptions of Animal Death; Temporary Character Death (of an important character); Clone Discrimination; Non-Consensual Daemon Touching; Medical Experimentation; Angst with a Happy Ending; No order 66;

Posting Date: Thursday, March 23, 2023

Preview:

“I thought daemons didn’t eat,” Rex noted, as he and Cody watched Boga devour her meal with some fascination. Varactyl she may be, but she was a tiny one. Her favourite perch was the general’s shoulder, so there wasn’t much interior space for the truly momentous amount of bantha meat she was ripping into.

Boga daintily rubbed her beak against a folded serviette that looked kind of like a bird. “I can do anything a human can do.”

“Oh?” Obi-Wan said mildly. “Shall I save you a portion of these reports then?”

Summary:

Breaking News! A novel weapon has been deployed by the Separatists and kills through means undetectable by modern medicine. Can the 212th and 501st put a stop to this hideous weapon? And can they expose the secret of why the clones do not have daemons?

[merlot-and-chardonnay]

A Lark Among the Wolves and Dragons: Chapter 14.5

Chapter 14

Trigger warning for some non consensual touching up ahead in case that makes anyone uncomfortable.

"What are you doing here, prince?" you ask, trying to keep yourself composed as best you could.

Daemon smiled a bit and approached you, "I came to see my daughter," he tells you, "I hadn't expected you to be here. Though it shouldn't surprise me. Can't keep a loving mother away from her child for too long I suppose."

He placed a hand on Aemma's back, clearly focused on her. However you felt about Daemon at this moment, he seemed like he genuinely wanted to spend some time with his daughter. Against your better judgement, you decide to ask him, "Do...do you want to hold her?"

Daemon nods and carefully takes Aemma from your arms. He holds her against his chest. Much to your surprise, Aemma didn't cry; she fussed a bit, but settled quickly.

Daemon seemed to soften some as he gave her a kiss on top the head and spoke softly to her in High Valyrian.

You couldn't help but stare, even though you didn't understand the words. The man before you was a complete contrast to the man he was when he took you away. It was the same man you knew when the two of you used to share a bed, when the both of you were bare and vulnerable before one another. 

If this was the side of Daemon you saw more often, maybe things would've been different. Maybe you wouldn't have been compelled to break away from him in the first place.

Daemon then called for one of the nurses to put Aemma to bed.

Now it was just the two of you, you without your little shield in place should Daemon try anything with you. 

"I have spoken to the king," the prince tells you, "despite disagreement from the small council, my brother has decided to proclaim Aemma true born. She will no longer be a Waters." "She was never a Waters," you say, "She was a Pankratz." Daemon looked at you somewhat confused. "My family name," you tell him, "if she didn't become a Targaryen should would've been Aemma Julia Pankratz. Second in line for the title Viscountess de Lettenhove."

This made Daemon even more confused, "my brother holds the title of Viscount," you further elaborate, "since he has no heirs of his own, presumably, I am next in line."

"You never did mention you came from nobility," Daemon says. "You never asked," you deadpan, "Probably never imagined we would even be having this conversation in the first place."

"So, she'll be a princess then," you say, "now what? Do you even need me here anymore?" "She still needs her mother," Daemon points out, "Would you be so cruel as to abandon her now?" "And what about when she comes of age?" you point out, "Am I still to remain here when she no longer needs her mother?"

"Why not?" Daemon asks, approaching you and leaning in, "you could be a princess too."

You scoff, averting your gaze, but the prince lifted your chin so you could face him, "stay here, become my second wife, and give me more true born children."

You pulled back, fighting the urge to scoff at this man's delusion, "you can't be serious," you exasperate, "how can you possibly think I'd want to marry you?" "Have you forgotten so quickly what we had together?" "You took me away from my home, from everything and everyone I loved," you point an accusing finger, "yet you still expect me to be grateful for what you've given me in the past?!"

"I took you from those ruins and gave you and Aemma a place to stay," Daemon says, eyes glaring at you, "if it weren't for me you never would earned my family's favor in the first place. I can give you station, one that would see that you would never go hungry again. What more could you possibly want that I can't-"

Daemon stopped before his stare turned dark, "is this...is this about that man? That...mutant?"

You turned away from him, not answering his question, "it is isn't it?" Daemon scoffs, "even after everything I've given you...you would rather run off with him? He couldn't give you what I was able to." "None of that matters to me," you state with confidence, "I love Geralt, I don't love you. He may not have been able to provide much, but at least Aemma and I were more free with him then either of us could ever be with you or your family." "So you would rather Aemma have been his?" Daemon says in dark tone, "you'd sacrifice all this so you could run to that freak and spread your legs for him like some whore." 

 "You know what? I would," you laugh lightly, "I would rather be his whore then your wife!"

Daemon grabbed your chin and pushed you against the wall, "you can do whatever you will to me, it won't change how I feel about him OR about you," you say, still holding your ground, "No matter what you try, I'll never feel for you the way I do for Geralt."

"Ha, I find that hard to believe," Daemon scoffs.

"I may have enjoyed what we had before," you sneer, "but now when I look at you, I go dry like sand."

With no change in his facial expressions, Daemon turned you around, still keeping you against the wall.

You struggle to push him away, but he keeps one hand pinned to your back as he uses the other to sneak under your skirts.

You feel his cold fingers between your legs, entering your folds.

You take a deep breath, anticipating what he was going to do next. To your surprise, however, he pulls his fingers away and out from your skirts to examine the wet contents.

You hear him chuckle darkly as he wipes his fingers on his trousers, "dry like sand?" he mutters before turning you again so as to face him. He places the same hand around your throat; he did not squeeze, but the threat was there, "As long as you remain in these walls, you will not mention his name ever again. Do you understand?"

You look at Daemon, fear in your eyes; you wanted to curse him, insult him, say anything that would hurt him. But after what he just did, you weren't sure if he would cross that line and commit such a vile act if provoked enough. The man was unpredictable and you were this close to waking the dragon.

So you remain silent, and nod in fear.

The prince smiled, almost villainous; he leaned down to whisper into your ear, "you both belong to me, (y/n)...and I don't part with my possessions lightly."

The door to the room opened and Daemon pulled away right at that moment.    

It was one of the dragon keepers. He approached the prince, head kept low before addressing Daemon in High Valyrian, "my prince, I have brought the egg you have requested."

Daemon nods as the other two dragon keepers step in with what seemed to be a large stone kettle. You frown a bit as Daemon lifted the top to reveal a rather large egg; smoke rose from the kettle from the coals that were burning inside to keep the egg warm. He picked it up, keeping it close to his chest, almost as if he was trying to keep it warm.

He approached you, keeping the egg in one hand and using the other to gesture for you to approach.

"Is...is this a dragon's egg?" you ask, doing your best to keep your voice from betraying the fear you still possessed as a result from Daemon's earlier assault.

"A gift for our little dragon," Daemon nods. You place a hand on the egg, only to quickly retract it from the heat still radiating from the egg. You look at Daemon, wondering how he was able to to hold onto the egg without his hands burning.

Daemon led you to where Aemma was sleeping in her cradle. He took his free hand, and reach into the crib to stroke Aemma's head.

He took the egg and placed it next to the babe.

You panic briefly, "Daemon she'll- it's still hot, the egg will burn her!"

"Fire cannot harm a dragon," Daemon assures.

Sure enough, Aemma still remained asleep; if anything, she seemed to relax even more from the warmth of the dragon's egg. 

In her sleep, Aemma reached out for the egg; and to everyone's surprise in the room, the egg began to shake the moment her little hand touched it.

It started to crack, and before anyone else had a chance to react, the shell broke, and out from the egg came forth a baby dragon, a mix of black and gold decorating the scales.

The dragon chirped and made a small screech as she stretched her wings and tail. She looked to Aemma, who was still sleeping, and approached before curling herself next to the babe.

In this moment, Daemon smiled, a sense of pride washing over at the sight before him. This was his daughter, a dragon just like he was.

Now no one would be able to dispute the legitimacy of his child. 

You stared in awe as well, wondering how a dragon's egg could hatch so fast. The moment though was cut short the moment Daemon turned to you. You avert your gaze, still scared of him.

He leads you out of Aemma's room and back to yours.

To your relief, the prince left shortly thereafter.

You laid in your bed, unable to sleep. You didn't know what you were going to do.

But you knew you needed to escape. And you needed to take Aemma with you; dragon or no dragon, you needed to get her away this madness.

Chapter 15

Masterlist

[merlinbingo]

Month two of this round is over, and you guys are still going strong! We got a stunning 46 fills this month, created by 22 fantabulous people. 52 of you have already earned your participation badge (getting on for half of all participants, and only 20 fewer than in the entirety of round two), and one lunatic (affectionate, also amazed) who has filled everything on their first card and come back for more!

In terms of the kinds of fills, we got 37 fics, 7 artworks, a poem and a very impressive 'Where's Wally/Waldo?' esque gaming app - if you're struggling to fill a square, remember that we want to see absolutely any kind of fanwork you can possibly think of!

As for ships, Merthur is unsurprisingly still top of the list with 17 fills. Gen is second with 11, followed by Arthur/Gwen (five), Merlin/Morgana (three), and Gwaine/Percival and Gwen/Morgana (two each). We've got six other ships with only one fill each, skewing equal parts towards Arthur (with Gwaine, Lancelot, or Percival) and Merlin (Freya, Leon, or Gwaine and Lancelot).

And now, on to the main event: the fills! As always, they're hidden below the cut and sorted by ship and then by rating, and we encourage you to check out the warnings and consider your own limits before clicking on those links!

Gen/no ship

Merlin: Where's Team Free Will? by willowsmarika Rating: General audiences Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: Buffy crossover, Supernatural crossover, Game app, twist on where's waldo Summary: Team Free Will (along with Giles and Buffy) somehow ended up in Camelot. Help Dean, Sam, Cass and Dean's pie get back to their future.

Your life is not the price by Robin_Fai Rating: General audiences Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: Merlin's Magic Revealed, Magic Reveal, Magic Ban Lifted, Light Angst Summary:

Nostalgia by firsthandskeleton Rating: General audiences Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: Summary:

Code Name: Emrys by Stelle Rating: General audiences Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: Cyberpunk au, fanart Summary:

Mark of the Beast by archaeologist_d Rating: Teen Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: angst, birthmarks, canon, happy ending Summary: A birthmark wasn’t a problem usually but Arthur’s was too brightly coloured, too detailed, and people whispered about it being the mark of a beast.

Never Name Your Cow Daisy by archaeologist_d Rating: Teen Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: silly, Geoffrey needs a hobby, schenangans, cows named Daisy Summary: When Geoffrey of Monmouth finds a book of old laws and mistakenly thinks Arthur gave him permission to have the guards enforce them, people start getting arrested for the most ridiculous things.

Space Opera by archaeologist_d Rating: Teen Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: fluff, canon era, leon's voice is great, gwaine as troublemaker Summary: Leon’s voice wasn’t the best but singing an opera that Gwaine had composed, a space opera about dragons no less, was a step too far.

A Swan And Her Prince by Sage_Owl Rating: Teen Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: Alternate Universe - Daemons, First Meetings, Canon AU, Canon-typical Violence, non-consensual daemon touching Summary: Arthur nearly dies of suffocation when he is six years old.

Heavy Is The Head That Wears The Crown by DSabian Rating: Teen Warnings: Major character death Major tags: Fanart, Cubist, Hurt no Comfort, Summary: Arthur has no choice. He is the King. He wears the crown. The act of Treason carries its own penalty and the laws must be upheld. He does not know whether to be thankful or unnerved by the lack of screaming. He does not know anything anymore.

Eat Your Sins With Hemlock Meals and Wash it Down With Wine by royal_spud Rating: Mature Warnings: Major character death Major tags: Rivalry, revenge, Uther dies, Dark morgana, poisoning Summary: Twenty one years of life,ten years of imprisonment under Uther's control, and Morgana believes that enough is enough. There has been enough suffering, enough bloodshed, enough pain, and Uther Pendragon could not go unpunished for his sins. And what better day to make him pay, than on the anniversary of her oh so glorious capture?

Veil by Stelle Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence Major tags: fanart Summary:

Gwen/Morgana

call my bluff by honoraryPevensie5 Rating: Mature Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: 1. Fluff and Humor 2. Alternate Universe - Modern Au 3. Sexual Tension 4. Animatronic Bull-riding 5. Eventual Smut Summary: Gwen meets a dark-haired stranger whilst road-tripping to her ex's wedding. And tries very hard not to fall in love.

The Most Beautiful Thing by lavender_spice Rating: Explicit Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: artist au, public sex Summary: Morgana believes something as beautiful as Gwen belongs at an exhibition.

Merlin/Freya

Love is Blind by demitimelord42 Rating: General audiences Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: modern era, slight crack, merlin and freya are idiots in love, gwen and arthur just want them to get together Summary: Slightly crackish, modern era oneshot where Gwen and Arthur are tired of watching their friends run around their feelings for each other... until they're not.

Merlin/Morgana

Shall hate be fairer lodged? Chapter 1 by archaeologist_d Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, Rape/non-con Major tags: non-con, aftermath, morgana seducing merlin, rough use Summary: Morgana had a plan, seduce Merlin, take over his will so that he could be the assassin that would finally kill her hated brother. A perfect plan. And if she used sex and pain to pay back Merlin for poisoning her, so much the better.

Arthur/Gwen

Reap the Wild Wind - chapter 1 by archaeologist_d Rating: Mature Warnings: Major character death, Graphic depictions of violence Major tags: canon au, Lancelot lives, angst, violence, poor Merlin Summary: When Lancelot sacrificed himself to save Camelot from the Dorocha, Merlin blamed himself. And he tried everything to get Lancelot back, everything.

Merlin/Lancelot/Gwaine

A Big Hug by Stelle Rating: General audiences Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: fanart Summary:

Merlin/Leon

Option Number Three by thetreeofwillow Rating: General audiences Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: Getting Together, Humour, Adorable Aithusa, Leon's Hair Summary: Merlin was, for once, enjoying a nice quiet moment up in a high tower with only himself and— “Merlin?” says a voice Merlin really does not want to hear right now. A voice as loyal and steadfast as the suns journey through the sky, who may struggle to understand the baby dragon currently being held in Merlin’s arms.

Arthur/Percival

Touch Line by ravenwilds Rating: Explicit Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: BDSM, Rugby AU, Sub!Arthur, First Time Summary: A rugby AU, where Arthur has always thought he might have a thing for pain and Percy helps him find out if he does.

Arthur/Lancelot

assassin au by kairennart Rating: General audiences Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: digital art, sketch Summary:

Arthur/Gwaine

Oh Noble Hearts by queerofthedagger Rating: Teen Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: Canon Divergence, Gwaine's Nobility, Getting Together, Fluff Summary: Gwaine has a confession; Arthur, as so often, manages to surprise him.

Gwaine/Percival

It's All In The Brows by DSabian Rating: Teen Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: Gwaine/Percival, Fluff, Getting together, Soft boys being soft, Eyebrows are the new windows to the soul Summary: Gwaine's been watching Percival. And while it might have started out with his biceps, or maybe those thighs, now it's all about the eyebrows.

Untitled by Stelle Rating: Mature Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: perwaine, fanart Summary:

Merlin/Arthur

When I can't sleep it's because of you by EvannaWebb Rating: General audiences Warnings: Major character death Major tags: drabble, poetry, post-battle of camlann Summary: A poem of Merlin's thoughts when he can't sleep after Arthur's death

scar crossed lovers by kirani Rating: Teen Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: magic reveal, arthur knows about merlin's magic, hurt/comfort, first kiss Summary: Merlin wakes up to his old serket scar aching, but he still needs to serve Arthur. Arthur, however, is more observant than Merlin gives him credit for.

Chemistry chapter 48 by archaeologist_d Rating: Mature Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: angst, modern AU with magic, plague Summary: Merlin is being an arse and thinking with his head instead of his heart. Arthur isn't buying it.

Cum stains by Viviriki Rating: Mature Warnings: Choose not to use archive warnings Major tags: Semi-public sex, cum stains, sharing clothes, bottom Merlin , kinky arthur. Summary: Merlin and Arthur have a little fun in a corridor. ;)

Tear them down by TyalanganD Rating: Mature Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: Canon divergence, hate sex, miscommunication, angst, hopeful ending Summary: It started easy, if extraordinary: a prince and a peasant in a marketplace, insulting each other and yet, somehow taking an instant liking to each other. And then, everything collapsed. Are Arthur and Merlin impossible?

Cuddles by Stelle Rating: Mature Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: merthur, fanart Summary:

To Have and To Hold by TheManTheMythTheLazy Rating: Mature Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: fluff without plot, body worship, naked cuddling Summary: Merlin recounts the ridiculous events of his day while Arthur listens and worships his body

The Secret Sharer by firsthandskeleton Rating: Mature Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: Summary:

What the Heart Doth Hold - chapter 2 by archaeologist_d Rating: Explicit Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: arthur/lancelot, angst, sexy times, banter Summary: When Arthur wakes up with Lancelot in his bed, he doesn’t remember much of why. But Merlin is not happy about it.

Getting to hope you like me by Sage_Owl Rating: Explicit Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: Fluff, Christmas, love at first sight, getting together, presents Summary: Merlin and Arthur meet for the first time at one of Morgana's lavish Christmas parites, and the attraction between them is instant.

Triad by archaeologist_d Rating: Explicit Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: polyamory, arthur/gwaine/merlin, arthur is shy Summary: Arthur watched Merlin closely, especially when he was with Gwaine. Those two often got into trouble, but it was their relationship that drove Arthur mad. Arthur couldn’t have that, could he?

Chemistry chapter 49 by archaeologist_d Rating: Explicit Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: angst, modern with magic, plague, magic users hunted Summary: The scrawny kid knew more about chemistry than Arthur did. Who knew he’d fall in love with the idiot? And what’s more, the idiot claimed he had magic but everyone knew that magic wasn’t real. Until it was and then it all went to hell.

All Tied Up by Sage_Owl Rating: Explicit Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: Incubi, Modern With Magic, Unsafe Sex, Dubious Consent, Bondage Summary: He'd been waiting for a rainy day.

If I Gave All My Heart - Chapter II by paceprompting Rating: Explicit Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: Canon Divergence AU, Alternate First Meeting, Pining Arthur Pendragon Summary: Years before a young boy with destiny on his shoulders walked into Camelot, there was simply…Arthur, Crown Prince of Camelot: a young man vying for his father’s approval and desperate to prove his worth. A desperation that earns him a curse, even if it saved his life. Now his heart lies outside his chest, kept safe for the time within the metal of his mother’s sigil… But it cannot hold his heart forever.

Idol by SauraUnderscore Rating: Explicit Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: Modern Au; Football AU; Football Player Arthur; Fan Merlin; Wanking; Blowjob; Voyeurism Summary: As soon as Merlin opened the door to his childhood bedroom, he cursed. It was lovely of his mum, leaving everything just as it was when Merlin fled for uni, but damn it. Arthur’s surprised laugh confirmed his worst fears: the prat was going to be insufferable.

[thisfairytalegonebad]

Touch Aversion - Whumptober day 17

Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Character: Prompto Argentum Rating: Teen and up Warnings: Brief description of non-consensual touching (non-sexual)

Read below the cut or on AO3 here.

They’re all various levels of physically affectionate.

Gladio likes pounding people on the shoulder and giving bear hugs, and if someone is talking to him they’re likely to experience some form of physical contact at least once during the conversation.

Noct is a bit like a cat. He won’t be very touchy-feely most of the time unless he gets sleepy, in which case he can get a little clingy.

Ignis gives affection freely but is not very fond of receiving it, unless you’re one of very few select individuals.

Prompto, however, is easily the one with the least boundaries when it comes to physical contact. He’ll throw himself bodily at Gladio with post-fight-euphoria, he’ll get into Ignis’ space when he’s in the passenger seat and wants to look at something outside on the driver’s side, and he’ll slap Noct on the ass whenever he least expects it. He likes to throw his arms around people and he routinely falls asleep on someone’s shoulder during movie night.

That’s why it’s such a surprise when he physically recoils when Gladio reaches out to inspect a cut on his left cheek, a leftover from his days spent in Ardyn’s custody.

Prompto looks just as perplexed as they feel.

“Sorry, I- sorry!” he stammers, wide-eyed.

Gladio hesitates but reaches for the cut again, and this time Prompto doesn’t flinch, but he holds himself stiffly and looks ready to bolt.

“Got any other injuries?” Gladio asks, but Prompto quickly shakes his head.

“Nope, all good.”

His smile is somewhat forced, but he did just go through something traumatic, so it’s not exactly surprising, and they forget about it quickly enough with all the other stuff they've got going on.

As they make their way through Zegnautus Keep, Prompto attaches himself to Ignis again, the way he did after they left Altissia. He reaches for Ignis’ hand and tucks it under his arm, and Ignis, admittedly exhausted, is reluctantly grateful for it.

They run into a bunch of daemons, and once the fight is over, Ignis reflexively goes to grab Prompto’s arm for guidance again, but Prompto flinches and whirls around.

“Shit, Iggy, I didn’t mean-” he immediately apologises, and it’s only when Ignis hears the crystalline sound of something being put in the Armiger that he realises he most likely just got a gun pulled on him.

Furrowing his brow in concern, he asks, “Prompto, are you feeling alright?”

“Fine!” Prompto says immediately, sounding anything but. “Just, this place gives me the creeps, y’know? Makes me jumpy, can’t wait to get out of here!”

“That makes two of us,” Ignis agrees, accepting that he’s not going to get anything else out of Prompto.

“Four of us,” Gladio corrects. “Let’s go, sooner we can get out of this place the better.”

No one’s really in the mood for their usual banter, they’re all on edge and any words that are spoken are tinted with various levels of fear and nerves.

Something’s clearly off about Prompto and they’ve all realised it, even before he leaps halfway across the narrow walkway when Noct accidentally brushes their shoulders together.

Any attempt to ask about it is immediately deflected, though, and they simply don’t have the time to stop and figure it out.

And then everything goes sideways all of a sudden when Ardyn shows up. They engage him with everything they’ve got - Prompto immediately puts a bullet between his eyebrows, but it’s like it doesn’t even register, and he reacts similarly to their other attempts to get rid of him once and for all.

Surprisingly, all of them make it out alive, though less due to skill and more due to the fact that Ardyn is simply toying with them. The only reason why they’re alive is because he decided to let them live.

Noct is… gone. Not dead, thank the gods, but inside the crystal, and after trying to get him out for a long, long time, they’re forced to leave him behind.

“We’ll come back for him,” Gladio swears, near tears. His hands are bleeding from his attempts to break the crystal, but he’s refusing a potion.

Ignis nods mutely, stumbling along as they search for an exit. He yelled himself hoarse and hasn’t said a word since, and he’s moving as if in a trance.

Prompto brings up the rear, full of adrenaline and so high-strung that he’s shaking. If he were to shoot anything, he’d most likely miss by a mile, but he cannot bring himself to dismiss his gun or even just lower it.

Ironically, they don’t encounter a single daemon on their way out. Ardyn’s doing, no doubt.

“I can call us a ride,” Prompto says breathlessly when they’re finally outside and at a loss for how to proceed.

“A ride?” Ignis echoes, speaking again for the first time. His voice is hoarse and he doesn’t even look remotely put together.

“Yeah, lemme just…” Prompto rails off and walks a few steps away from them for some semblance of privacy as he calls Aranea.

He’s not a fan of having to ask her for a favour so soon after she saved his ass, but unless they magically find a mechanic somewhere to fix their car, they’ve got no other option.

It’s not all that much later that her dropship appears above them, the noise putting both Ignis and Gladio on guard immediately.

“It’s just Aranea,” Prompto reassures them quickly.

As if on cue, she jumps off the descending dropship and lands directly in front of him.

“Hey, shortcake,” she says cheerfully, clasping him on the shoulder in a friendly gesture.

Prompto flinches and takes a step back, but the reaction is nowhere near as extreme as it was earlier.

“Hey, Aranea,” he says, pretending he doesn’t see the way too perceptive look she gives him. “Thank you for picking us up.”

“No problem, I was in the area,” she replies airily then looks around before her questioning gaze lands back on him. “Where’s Pretty Boy?”

The slight smile Aranea’s presence put on Prompto’s lips falls immediately.

“Uh. Long story. I’ll tell you on the way,” he promises.

“Sure, but first you boys get some rest. No offense, but you all look like shit.”

No one can really argue with that.

----

Despite their exhaustion, rest does not come easily.

Aranea let them get settled in the back area of the dropship. There are two cots that Gladio immediately insisted Prompto and Ignis take, getting down on the floor himself before Ignis tells him not to be ridiculous and share with him instead.

Realistically, the cot is too small for both of them, but they’re making it work with a complete lack of regard for personal space. It doesn’t seem to bother them, either, if anything they seem reassured by the physical contact.

It leaves Prompto alone on his cot, which suits him just fine. The idea of sharing with either of the other two makes his skin crawl.

As if he had read his thoughts, Gladio suddenly asks, “Hey, what was up with you back there?”

Prompto stays silent for a beat too long before he replies, entirely unconvincingly, “What? Nothing!”

“You flinch every time we touch you,” Ignis points out.

“With Aranea too, but only a little. Don’t think I didn’t see that,” Gladio adds.

To that, Prompto has nothing good to say.

“I’m fine, just, y’know. Tired, hated that place. Made me feel jumpy. Don’t tell me you liked it there,” he attempts anyway. He’s aiming for a light-hearted tone, but instead, it just sounds pathetic.

“Prompto,” Ignis says seriously. “What did Ardyn do to you?”

The question, while not unexpected, leaves Prompto speechless.

Nothing. Everything.

Still, he forces himself to say, “Nothing. He didn’t do anything.”

“Prompto.” Gladio’s voice is more gentle than Prompto’s ever heard, and for some reason, it drives tears to his eyes.

“It’s the truth, he didn’t… didn’t do anything,” he sniffs quietly. “Just. He was being creepy. Touched me, sometimes.”

“Not inappropriately!” he adds immediately because both Ignis and Gladio go rigid at that. “He didn’t do anything like that, he’d just come up and touch my face, my hair and stuff and it just… it made me feel really gross is all.”

“But there’s more,” Ignis presses. “Gladio said you didn’t react as badly to Aranea. Why not?”

Prompto presses his lips together in a tight line and stays silent. If it were up to him, he’d just never talk about it again and try to forget it ever happened. But he knows Ignis and Gladio and they’re some of the most stubborn people he knows. They’re not going to let this go.

“Sometimes he did it while looking like you guys,” he says finally, quietly enough that he hopes they didn’t hear over the roaring engines of the dropship. “It kind of really messed with my head and after a while I couldn’t really tell what’s real and what isn’t anymore.”

Gladio explodes in a string of curses and Ignis looks both heartbroken and about two seconds away from a murder.

Guilt stirs in Prompto’s chest, but more than anything, an unexpected burst of anger surges through him. This is why he didn’t want to tell them, and he does not have the emotional capacity to deal with their outrage at the moment, not when he’s barely holding it together himself.

“Look, can we just. Not do this right now?” It comes out pleading and more pathetic than he’d like, but it does seem to have the desired effect.

Gladio cuts himself off to stew in silent anger instead, and Ignis bows his head respectfully.

“Of course,” he says. “But please know that we’re here for you, in whatever way you may need.”

“Yeah, what he said,” Gladio agrees. His voice is gruff, but Prompto knows it’s not from a lack of caring but rather the opposite. It’s clear he’s absolutely pissed, but he’s holding back for Prompto’s sake.

And, it’s stupid, but somehow that makes Prompto feel better than anything.

“Thanks, guys,” he says, wiping the tears from his eyes. Everything is horrible, they’ve lost Noct and Prompto’s losing his marbles, but with them by his side, he thinks, he can get through anything.

----

Read all of my Whumptober prompt fills here.

[luthien-under-bough]

🕊 Summer of Dove Prompt Fics 🕊

Prompt fics written for Fire, Blood, & Kink's Summer of Dove event.

tender

Prompt: Daemon convinces his teenage niece that sucking on her tits will help them grow, and rhaenyra is all too naive to question the veracity of her dear uncle's words.

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: Underage

Category: F/M

Fandoms: House of the Dragon (TV), A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms

Relationship: Daemon Targaryen/Rhaenyra Targaryen

Characters: Rhaenyra Targaryen, Daemon Targaryen

Additional Tags: Uncle/Niece Incest, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Grooming, Manipulative Daemon Targaryen, Dry Humping

push

Prompt: unlike almost everything in the world, uncle daemon was off limits to her. rhaenyra was a greedy girl with an appetite for both materialistic things and men. when her father remarries, she has the perfect opportunity to spike her uncle's drink, lead him upstairs to her bedroom, and make him hers. and she was almost sure uncle daemon wouldn't mind being her puppet for a night.

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings (mind the tags below!)

Category: F/M

Fandoms: House of the Dragon (TV), A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms

Relationship: Daemon Targaryen/Rhaenyra Targaryen

Characters: Rhaenyra Targaryen, Daemon Targaryen

Additional Tags: Rape/Non-con Elements, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Non-Consensual Bondage, but daemon is skeletor.jpg joke's on you i'm into that shit, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Uncle/Niece Incest, Older Man/Younger Woman, Uncle kink, Manipulative Rhaenyra Targaryen, Obsessive Rhaenyra Targaryen, minor past harwin/rhaenyra, daemon uses the word 'fucking' as punctuation, shameless overuse of italics but the author will accept no criticism on the matter

i'll find a way to slip into your skin somehow

Prompt: Daemon’s late night sex session is interrupted by a call from his very drunk (and maybe very high too) niece who sneaked out to a party and need someone to pick her up. When she drops dead at the second she touches his bed it seems impossible for Daemon not to use her to finish what she interrupted earlier.

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: Rape/Non-Con

Category: F/M

Fandoms: House of the Dragon (TV), A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms

Relationship: Daemon Targaryen/Rhaenyra Targaryen

Characters: Rhaenyra Targaryen, Daemon Targaryen

Additional Tags: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Don't Like Don't Read, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Uncle/Niece Incest, Rape/Non-con Elements, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Non-Consensual Touching, Non-Consensual Groping, Sleepy/Unconscious Sex, Drunk Sex, Dark Daemon Targaryen, daemon is not a good guy, POV Daemon Targaryen, and it's fucked up, Prompt Fic

let me wrap my teeth around the world

Amidst the salt and smoke of Dragonstone, they cut their palms, sliced their lips, and spoke their vows in the only tongue that could feel like an oath to creatures of Valyrian blood. When they shared a kiss, Daemon sucked drops of blood from Rhaenyra’s lip, and his whole body shivered with pleasure.

He needed more.

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: F/M

Fandoms: House of the Dragon (TV), A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms

Relationship: Daemon Targaryen/Rhaenyra Targaryen

Characters: Daemon Targaryen, Rhaenyra Targaryen, Minor Characters

Additional Tags: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, No Dance of the Dragons | War For Succession Between Aegon II and Rhaenyra Targaryen Never Happens, Uncle/Niece Incest, Targcest | Targaryen Incest (A Song of Ice and Fire), Blood Drinking, Bloodplay, Blood Kink, Menstrual Sex, Knifeplay, Blood As Lube, Cannibalism, but only like a little bit, in a romantic way, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Valyrian Culture & Customs (A Song of Ice and Fire), Prompt Fic

kiss me hard before you go

Daemon leans in and presses his lips to her ear. “Mm, now that’s my sweet little wife.” She twists free of his hand to snarl: "I'm not your fucking wife." In which Daemyra are divorced—but obviously that isn't going to stop them.

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: F/M

Fandoms: House of the Dragon (TV), A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms

Relationship: Daemon Targaryen/Rhaenyra Targaryen

Characters: Daemon Targaryen, Rhaenyra Targaryen, Visenya Targaryen (Daughter of Rhaenyra)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Divorce, divorced daemyra, Uncle/Niece Incest, Older Man/Younger Woman, Rough Sex, Hair-pulling, Size Kink, Angry Sex, Hate Sex, Mildly Dubious Consent, Dirty Talk, Minor Harwin Strong/Rhaenyra Targaryen, implied daemon targaryen/others, blink and you miss it daddy kink, implied infidelity (on daemon's part), Unhealthy Relationships, Angst, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prompt Fic

[bluejayblueskies]

cicatrix

Rating: Mature Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence Category: Gen

Relationship: John & Arthur Characters: John, Arthur Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Missing Scene, The Prison Pits, Angst, Whump, Torture, Daemon Severance/Intercision, Non Consensual Daemon Touching, Minor Character Death, Minor Gore

CW: daemon severance/separation, torture (via daemon separation), non-consensual daemon touching, imprisonment, canonical minor character death, eye trauma, blood, minor gore, cannibalism, mention of decomposing bodies (and consuming them), drugging a character via their water supply, dissociation, grief

Read on AO3

.

The first time they move John to a new pit is the worst of them.

Arthur is asleep when it happens. It’s an odd sensation, his soul being awake when he’s asleep, but he thinks he’s getting used to it. He’s had to get used to a lot of things since he read that book—several months ago now—and felt the uniquely painful experience of his soul being rent from his body and transformed into something new. Someone new.

His daemon had been a seahorse named Nimh, held in a sturdy glass container that Arthur kept secured to his chest. The water had soaked through Arthur’s shirt as the container shattered and the shape within it distorted and stretched, and he’d blacked out before he could finish witnessing the corruption of his soul.

Now, his daemon is a black dog with bright yellow eyes and sharp teeth who goes by the name John. Arthur’s not sure what it means for him, that the physical manifestation of his soul has not only changed its shape but the entire fabric of its being. It’s not like there’s any precedent for it.

What does one do when one’s soul has been replaced with that of an eldritch god beyond our comprehension?

One simply … carries on, Arthur supposes.

There’s not much else to do. John is his soul now—a fact that they had tested extensively, through painful trial and tribulation. They are as inextricably linked as any other human and daemon pair. When one of them bleeds, so does the other, and they can’t go farther than ten or so feet away from each other before the strain on their connection becomes painful.

The strangest bit, then, is the sleeping.

The first time Arthur had fallen asleep after obtaining John had been the coma, though given that Arthur was actively dying at the time, he feels that he can be excused for not noticing anything out of the ordinary. He had simply been in a boat on a lake one moment, sluggishly bleeding out, and the next, he was waking in a hospital bed with a cool, wet nose pressing urgently against his face.

Finding out that John had been awake and aware for a month, yet trapped in a body as unmoving as Arthur’s had been, was jarring to say the least.

The next time Arthur slept was on the beach after the island. And this time, it…

Arthur wasn’t sure how to describe it—knowing that a part of him was awake while the rest of him slumbered on. It was like an itch beneath his skin, a puzzle piece turned upside down and slotted back into place, the smallest smudge of dirt on his glasses. He awoke rested yet weary, like part of him knew that he hadn’t slept at all.

The relief in John’s voice as he regained control of his body was palpable, as was the dread at the knowledge that this was just … how things were going to be. But it wasn’t like there was anything either of them could do about it, so they didn’t dwell on it.

Perhaps it was for the best that Arthur had hardly slept prior to the prison pits. It had turned into quite an uncomfortable ordeal indeed. But in the pits themselves, so much is uncomfortable that the not-quite-rightness of sleep hardly seems to matter at all.

But as John is lifted by slimy clawed hands and pulled, foot by aching foot, away from Arthur’s sleeping body, unable to do anything but project his terror through their bond as Arthur slumbers on, blissfully fucking unaware of what is transpiring, he realizes that they were wrong. It matters very much indeed.

At five feet, John is not yet out of the pit, and he is beginning to feel the ache. Why is Arthur still asleep? Can’t he feel their hands on John’s flesh, on Arthur’s bare fucking soul?

(They’d been given fresh water that day, John recalls later. Arthur had remarked that it tasted off. John had told him it was probably nothing to worry about—that they should drink it anyway, that they didn’t know when they’d be given more.

He was a fucking idiot.)

At ten feet, John is over the edge of the pit and can no longer see Arthur. He can feel him, though, can feel their connection stretched to its limits. There is nothing further to give, he thinks.

At twelve feet, he discovers that he was wrong. That there is more to give if he is only willing to endure the agony of it, of a bond being stretched thinner and thinner. He is very fucking unwilling, but the hands gripping him tightly have no such reservations, and he is carried further.

At thirteen feet, Arthur wakes and begins to scream. But by that point, it is far, far too late.

At fifteen feet, John is dropped abruptly and without ceremony into a new pit. It’s probably only separated from Arthur’s by ten or so feet of dirt, but it may as well be thousands of miles for how fucking far away Arthur feels right now. John can’t see him, can’t touch him, and he presses as close to the wall as he can, just to ease some of the tension on their bond. “Arthur!” he cries, and his voice is hoarse. “Arthur!”

“John!” Arthur makes a noise that might be a sob. John can’t hear Arthur’s voice, not directly, but he can hear the echoes of it through their bond. He’s never been so fucking grateful for that ability as he is now. “John, where are you? John, it hurts.”

“Arthur,” John says again, his voice strained with the effort of existing like this. “I’m … I’m in another pit, Arthur.”

“What? No, no no no, you—why would they—?”

Arthur cuts off. They both know why. This is just another fucking way to try to break Arthur. Perhaps literally; if they can shear John away from him, cut Arthur’s soul clean from his body, then they can simply pick up John’s limp, unresisting form and carry him right back to the King.

“Fuck,” John says, voice tight with pain. “This is bad, Arthur.”

Arthur’s laugh is choked, like he’s fighting back tears. “You think? Can you climb out?”

The thought of expending any sort of effort right now is excruciating, but the thought of living like this for any longer than strictly necessary is even more so. John takes a deep breath, steels himself, and then digs his claws into the dirt walls. He heaves himself up, and—

And the wall, dry and unstable, crumbles beneath his grip and he falls to the ground. The impact would normally be nothing, but fragile as he feels right now, it knocks the wind out of him. He knows that Arthur can feel it too—can hear his answering gasp of pain.

“Fuck,” John groans. Then, again: “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Arthur, I can’t. I can’t climb out.”

John presses his body as close to the wall as he can get. He can tell that Arthur is doing the same, their connection gaining just enough slack so that every breath isn’t like knives in his lungs.

John had been unsure before this moment of his ability to cry, but given the wetness of his eyes and the desperate heaving of his chest, he thinks he knows the answer now.

He doesn’t have to see Arthur to know that he’s crying too.

.

.

.

The first time they move John is the worst of them, but the second time feels the most hopeless.

John had begun to dig through the wall—slowly, quietly, so as not to alert the guards—making a hole large enough that he could, in time, slip through and rejoin Arthur. It wouldn’t get them out of here, but at least they would be together, free from this endless agony.

John makes it three feet into the wall before he’s moved again. This time, they take him while Arthur is awake, and Arthur can tell the moment that everything has started to go sideways because he can feel something touching John. Their hands are hot and sharp and wet, and they’re touching Arthur’s soul, and it feels like every single one of his nerves has been pulled from his skin and set on fire.

He collapses to the ground, knocking over the bucket of water he’d just been delivered (fuck, fuck, he’s going to die here, isn’t he). He hardly notices the dirt churning to mud beneath him as he writhes, trying in vain to rid himself of the skin-crawling feeling of something so inhuman laying its filthy fucking hands on his soul.

On John.

Oh, fuck, John.

“John?” Arthur manages to say through grit teeth. “John, what’s happening? Who’s—augh—who’s touching us?”

Arthur gets no response. Instead, he feels it as John is moved—farther away from Arthur, one foot, two feet, three feet, Christ, they’re going to break. Their bond feels like a rubber band stretched beyond its limits, and Arthur can’t help it—he starts screaming, crying, begging, clawing at the walls of his prison. His nails, already bloody and broken from similar attempts, grow crusted with dirt as he tries and fails to get a handhold, to claw his way out of this fucking pit, and John is twenty feet away from him now, twenty-five, and they’re going to die, they’re going to fucking die, there’s no way they’re going to survive this, they—

It’s a paltry relief when John is finally released, those badwrongawful hands no longer caressing the most vulnerable part of himself. A moment later, John’s body hits the floor of what must be another fucking pit. Arthur, in turn, collapses back to the ground, sobbing.

He knows that he’s wasting what little water he has left in his body on his tears. He doesn’t fucking care.

“John,” he says, voice thick and choked. He doesn’t know what else to say—what else he can say. “John. John.”

There is a long moment of silence, during which Arthur is sure—so horrifyingly sure—that John is gone. That they’ve managed to rip them apart, and the ache he feels is simply that of a phantom limb, no longer attached to him in any meaningful way. Then, in a voice cracked and broken, John says, “I’m here,” and Arthur feels faint with relief.

“What are we going to do?” he says. He hates how small his voice sounds, how broken. How hopeless. They’ve made it so far; this can’t be the end.

“I…” John trails off. “I don’t know.”

There’s a long moment of silence between them. Then, John says, barely more than a whisper, “How long do we have before…?”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. But Arthur knows what he means.

“I don’t know.” Arthur leans against the wall, keeping very still. Fuck, even breathing hurts. Talking hurts, too, but he can’t bring himself to stop. It’s the only connection he has with John right now that isn’t riddled with pain, and he clings to it with white-knuckled hands. “But I … I heard stories, back on Earth. About people who had been … separated from their daemons, either accidentally or by force. Usually it’s a sudden thing—some sort of traumatic experience, a quick severance—but other times, it’s…”

“… like this,” John finishes.

Arthur nods, even though John can’t see him, even though the small motion makes every part of him scream in pain. “Yes.”

John doesn’t respond. Arthur can feel John’s fear thrumming through their bond, making his own heart pound in his chest, turning his own palms clammy, making his own heart race. “It’s all right,” Arthur says, even though it’s not and probably never will be again. These kinds of things, they don’t … they don’t fix themselves. They’re not temporary. You can’t piece back together what’s been broken, can’t unstretch what’s been mangled beyond recognition. Still, Arthur says again, “It’s all right, John. It’s okay.”

He can feel John’s doubt, cutting through the fear. “Okay,” John says anyway, sounding very tired. “Okay.”

.

.

.

The next few times after that blur together.

It’s not the pain that Arthur comes to fear. That’s a given every time those horrible, slimy hands grip John far too tightly and bring him farther and farther away from Arthur while he gasps for air and screams himself hoarse and scrabbles at the walls until his fingers turn bloody and bruised. The pain means that John is still there—that there’s still something to hurt.

So, no. It’s not the pain that Arthur fears. It’s the numbness.

Arthur first feels it after the fourth time John is moved. It creeps in slowly, so slowly he doesn’t notice it until he flexes his fingers and realizes that they … don’t hurt.

“John?” Arthur says slowly, shifting in place. The sensation is a curious one—a kind of pins-and-needles effect, where he is both aware and unaware of his own flesh, aware and unaware of the fact that there is another piece of himself out there. “Are you … are you still there?”

John is quiet for long enough that Arthur begins to panic in earnest. Then: “… Yes.”

Arthur exhales. “Christ, John, don’t do that.” A pause. “Do you … do you feel that?”

John frowns. He can feel Arthur’s panic fading, but it still lingers, made weak by their now-mangled bond but there nonetheless. “Your fear? Of course.”

“No. The … John, does it still … does it still hurt?”

John opens his mouth to say that of course it fucking hurts, Arthur, every goddamned day, but then he—hesitates.

… Does it? He … he can’t quite tell. Is it just that he’s gotten so used to the backdrop of agony that it’s become commonplace, or is that muted feeling that prickles beneath his skin new?

“I … don’t know,” John says after a moment. “I can still feel you, but I…”

“… it’s … it’s numb,” Arthur finishes. “Oh god.”

John, who had been quietly pleased that he wasn’t going to be spending every day in unbearable agony anymore, frowns at this. “What? What’s wrong?”

“It’s numb,” Arthur repeats, as if that’s supposed to mean something to John. “The—the pain, yes, but … but what happens when it’s not just the pain?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Arthur is quiet for a long moment. Then: “I … I think we’re separating, John.”

And that—

fuck.

That is quite a sobering thought indeed.

.

.

.

The ninth time that John is moved, the distance between him and Arthur has stretched to nearly a hundred feet, and John can hardly feel it. It’s all just …. a dull ache now. It doesn’t help that his mind has gone a bit fuzzy, stretched beyond its limits as well, and all he has the energy to do these days is lie on the dirt floor of whatever fucking pit he’s been dumped in this time and try to talk to Arthur as much as he can.

John’s head throbs, as it always does after he’s unceremoniously dropped into his newest pit like a sack of fucking flour. He stares listlessly at the wall opposite him and tries to remember a time when his body felt like something he could actually inhabit, like it wasn’t just as much a prison as these fucking holes in the ground.

Arthur is quiet. John assumes at first that he’s asleep, but upon further inspection, he realizes dimly that he’s still able to move, to twitch his ears and thump his tail weakly against the ground.

Their bond is…

God. John doesn’t even know how to describe it.

Finally, John musters up the energy for a single mumbled, “Arthur.” It’s quiet yet so loud in the stillness of the pit.

(Is this the first time that John has ever existed without somebody else by his side? He’s always been a piece of another—the King in Yellow and now Arthur—as he supposes all daemons are. He’d once thought, idly, about what it would be like to be separate—to not simply be one half of a whole. To be his own person. He’d thought it might be nice.

He was so, so wrong.)

Arthur doesn’t respond.

That’s fine, John thinks as he lets his eyes slip closed. He’s too tired for conversation anyway.

.

.

.

“John,” Arthur says, slumped up against the curved dirt wall of his prison. His stomach is an empty pit and his lips are dry and cracked and he can’t find the energy to do anything but sit here and stare listlessly at the opposite wall.

John doesn’t respond.

Arthur should probably be worried about that.

Instead, Arthur closes his eyes and falls easily into a dreamless sleep. He can worry about it tomorrow.

.

.

.

John can’t feel Arthur anymore.

But he also can’t feel his own body anymore, so he can’t decide if that means that they’ve fully separated or that he’s just gone numb to everything.

This is the … fifteenth pit? John doesn’t know. He doesn’t know how far he is from Arthur now. Too far, certainly.

(Every inch from Arthur’s side is too far.)

(He doesn’t remember what Arthur’s hands feel like carding through his fur.)

(He wonders when the King is going to come and claim his fucking prize.)

(He wonders if Arthur is okay.)

(He knows that he isn’t.)

.

.

.

There is somebody else in Arthur’s prison pit.

Normally, Arthur would be grateful for the possibility of some meaningful connection with another human being, but he hasn’t been able to feel John for … days? Weeks? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know where John is, doesn’t know where his fucking soul is, can’t feel him anymore, and—

Well.

That means that they’ve lost, doesn’t it. That Arthur’s soul has been plucked from him, pulled further and further away until their bond grew so thin it simply … ceased to exist.

At least it doesn’t hurt anymore. Though Arthur thinks he would find more comfort in that if he could feel anything at all.

There is somebody else in Arthur’s prison pit. He still has his daemon—a midnight-black rat with keen eyes and a blush-pink tail who regards Arthur with suspicion. It takes him a moment to realize why—to recognize what the absence by his side must look like.

John’s still here, he wants to protest. He’s still with me. He’ll be back. He’s still alive.

(Would Arthur even know if John had died? Would he even be able to feel it?)

He’s still alive.

There is somebody else in Arthur’s prison pit. His name is Michael Faust, and he has a daemon, and it’s just so—

fucking—

unfair.

Arthur likes to think that when he summons up enough energy a week and a half later to dig his thumbs into Mr. Faust’s eyes and feel his corneas pop beneath his fingernails, it’s because he’s surviving. He hasn’t been fed since the man arrived. He knows what this is meant to be—what he is meant to do.

The Arthur of two months ago wouldn’t have done it—wouldn’t have let them break him—but…

… But they’ve already broken him, haven’t they? In the only way that matters.

So he picks up the pieces of himself and does what needs to be done, and he tells himself as Mr. Faust goes limp beneath him and his daemon disappears into a cloud of shimmering Dust that it’s so he can make it out of this alive. So he can find John, who is not dead, and even if their bond is—

Fuck.

—even if their bond is gone, they can still be together, side by side.

He tells himself that and ignores the vicious sense of satisfaction as he looks upon Mr. Faust’s body, still and cold and lifeless.

Daemonless.

He turns away, suddenly sick to his stomach, and goes to clean the blood off his hands.

.

.

.

There is no distinction between the day John is unable to lift himself from the floor of the pit and the day he’s able to get his legs beneath him once again. Not that there’s a distinction between any of the days, given that John—despite his constant exhaustion—is still unable to sleep and thus passes every hour remarkably similar to the last: lying in the dirt and thinking of Arthur. The realization simply hits him that while he still feels numb and lifeless, he is also able to stand and pace in slow circles around the edge of the pit should he so desire to.

So he stands, and he paces, and he thinks.

He can’t decide if this is a victory or the final nail in the coffin. If he is now no longer tied to Arthur in any capacity and thus is no longer feeling the raw, gaping wound that used to be a bond he cherished more than anything else, even when he acted like he didn’t.

(There is so much he wishes he could change. But there’s no point in dwelling on that now.)

What this is, though, is an opportunity. One he intends to take.

The hands that move him from pit to pit have been lax lately, unworried about any potential escape. They had gripped him so tightly in the beginning, pressing threatening claws into his flesh, a warning: do not move for fear of death.

Now, they carry his limp, unresisting body as if it is a corpse.

John is not a corpse, even if some days he feels like one. And he’s not ready to fucking roll over and give up.

So John lies back down in the middle of the pit, and he stares at the wall, and he waits.

.

.

.

Whoever said that human flesh tastes like chicken had clearly either been eating different humans or different chickens than Arthur. Or perhaps they simply had the luxury of cooking their meat.

All Arthur can taste is salt and iron as he makes his way through Mr. Faust. He eats slowly at first as the days pass, then more quickly as it becomes apparent that, lacking any sort of refrigeration or preservation mechanism, the flesh he had stolen the life from with his own hands is slowly but surely turning rancid and rotten.

Arthur digs his teeth into the right ventricle of Mr. Faust’s heart and tries not to gag.

There are tears streaming down his cheeks.

He has never felt less human in his life.

If there is a silver lining to be found in any of this, he thinks as blood trickles down his chin and wrists and stains the dirt floor red, it is that John is not here to see it.

He hopes that John is okay.

(He knows that he isn’t.)

.

.

.

The hands that lift John out of the pit are just as revolting as they’d been all those weeks (months?) ago when John first learned what it was like to exist somewhere that wasn’t at Arthur’s side.

He remains still. He only has one shot at this, and he cannot afford to fuck it up.

(He can’t consider what it will mean for him—mean for Arthur—if he fucks it up.)

(He’s just glad that Arthur isn’t asleep.)

(God, fuck, Arthur, please stay awake. Please, just for a few minutes. Please.)

So John forces himself to stay limp as he is lifted. He counts his breaths—one, two, three, four—and on the fifth one, he twists and strikes out with teeth and claws, aiming for something soft and vulnerable that will tear beneath the sharp, violent pieces of himself.

He makes contact with what he thinks is the creature’s throat and bites down, hard. The creature makes a noise halfway between a warble and a scream, and then it’s pushing John away from it and John is falling. As he drops to the ground, he keeps his jaw firmly latched, taking a chunk of flesh with him. The creature does scream this time, a gargling wail that sends all of John’s fur standing on end.

He doesn’t stick around to find out if it’s enough. He can’t feel their bond—don’t think about that right now, don’t think about it—but he’d spent enough time fantasizing about this very moment that he knows the way to the pit where Arthur lies by heart.

He just has to get something first.

John turns, wet with inhuman blood, and he runs.

.

.

.

The moment Arthur sees John’s face over the edge of the pit, he’s overcome by shock, replaced quickly with the grim realization that even though John is within reach now, he still can’t feel him. Can’t sense him in any of the ways that truly matter.

He’d already known that. He doesn’t know why it’s still so upsetting to be reminded of it in such a real way as this.

John drops a wooden board into the pit—and Arthur will ask him later where he got it, will insist that they go back and free the poor prisoner who John had spoken with, will not mention that he just wants to do something fucking good for the first time in months as they retrieve the frog-like creature who calls himself Lorick. Arthur climbs the board with shaking arms and legs, and when he buries his hand in the soft fur behind John’s ears for just a moment before they turn and run, it feels…

… Arthur doesn’t know how it feels. Cold is the only word that comes to mind. Like his mind knows that there’s meant to be something there—some sort of spark, a recognition that he is touching his own fucking soul—but his body registers nothing.

What does it mean to be soulless, Arthur wonders absently as they make their way out of the pits. This isn’t a new thought. It’s one he’d also had when John first came into his life, before Arthur realized that John hadn’t destroyed his soul—he had become it. It just seems all the more relevant now. All the more real.

“You’re crying,” John says softly as they make their way through what appears to be a cave system, following the path Lorick had given them before he’d departed.

Arthur raises a hand to his face and it comes away wet. Huh. So he is. “Yes, I…” he says, then stops. How can he explain this to John? Will John even understand?

A moment later, Arthur sighs. Of course John will understand. Arthur has been torn in two, but so has John, and he is thus perhaps the only person who Arthur can truly explain this to. “I’m … mourning. I’m mourning us.”

John is silent for a moment. Then, a soft, dry nose brushes against the back of Arthur’s hand. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“… I know.” Arthur reaches down and rests a gentle hand on the back of John’s head. “I’m sorry too.”

Wordlessly, John pushes his head more firmly into Arthur’s palm—an invitation for Arthur to scratch behind his ears. It’s an odd sensation, not being able to feel it as he lays gentle hands upon his soul, but it’s … it’s fine. He’s sure it’ll go away eventually.

(He knows that it won’t. That this not-quite-rightness is normal for them now. But there is so much else to worry about, and John is here, and they are free. So Arthur puts it out of his mind.

He can think about it later.)

“He hasn’t won,” John says at length. He sounds so sure of himself—so confident that they haven’t played right into the King’s hands—and Arthur would scoff if he weren’t so desperate to believe that it’s true. “Arthur, he hasn’t won. I promise. I’m not leaving you, even if we … even if our bond has been severed.”

“You might not have a choice,” Arthur says. “But … for what it’s worth, I’m not leaving you either. Not if I can help it.”

“Good,” John says. His voice is firm and unyielding. Arthur wishes he could still tell if, underneath all of that confidence, John is just as scared as he is. “He can’t separate us. He doesn’t have the power to, not even here. He can’t do it.”

He’s already done it, Arthur thinks bitterly. He’s torn us apart, and all he needs to do is collect the fucking pieces. He’s won, and there’s nothing we can do about it.

“Let him fucking try,” Arthur says. And they carry on.

[ao3feed-destiel-02]

Realignment

Realignment https://ift.tt/T5fM0ZH by Winelady The news of Sam and Dean Winchester's return miraculous to the hunt after being dead spread like wildfire through the hunter community. Whispers and rumors circulated, sparking curiosity and concern among their acquaintances and allies. But not everyone who heard the news was a friend. Words: 6225, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Supernatural (TV 2005) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con Categories: Gen, M/M Characters: Castiel (Supernatural), Bobby Singer (Supernatural), Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Roy (Supernatural: Dark Side of the Moon), Walt (Supernatural), Hunters (Supernatural) Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester Additional Tags: Dean Winchester Has a Crush on Castiel, Hurt Dean Winchester, Non Consensual Daemon Touching, Blind Character, Dean Winchester Whump, Kidnapped Dean Winchester, Torture, Dean Winchester is Not Okay, Angst with a Happy Ending, hunters hunting the Winchesters, Episode: s05e16 Dark Side of the Moon (Supernatural) via AO3 works tagged 'Castiel/Dean Winchester' https://ift.tt/nJWVYhw April 23, 2024 at 11:42PM

[ao3feeddestiel]

Realignment

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/mg6PYnu by Winelady The news of Sam and Dean Winchester's return miraculous to the hunt after being dead spread like wildfire through the hunter community. Whispers and rumors circulated, sparking curiosity and concern among their acquaintances and allies. But not everyone who heard the news was a friend. Words: 6225, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Supernatural (TV 2005) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con Categories: Gen, M/M Characters: Castiel (Supernatural), Bobby Singer (Supernatural), Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Roy (Supernatural: Dark Side of the Moon), Walt (Supernatural), Hunters (Supernatural) Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester Additional Tags: Dean Winchester Has a Crush on Castiel, Hurt Dean Winchester, Non Consensual Daemon Touching, Blind Character, Dean Winchester Whump, Kidnapped Dean Winchester, Torture, Dean Winchester is Not Okay, Angst with a Happy Ending, hunters hunting the Winchesters, Episode: s05e16 Dark Side of the Moon (Supernatural) read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/mg6PYnu

[goblininawig]

This is my first entry for Scalding Hot Conscent Issues Bingo Round 2, marking off the "Daemon AU" spot.

The Diamond and Her Daemon

Daphne Bridgerton x Simon Basset | the Duke

Daphne and her dove daemon encounter Lord Berbrooke in the garden, leading to a compromising situation and an un-looked-for solution in the form of the Duke.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Canon Rewrite, Episode: s01e01 Diamond of the First Water (Bridgerton), Daemons, Non-Consensual Touching, Fake/Pretend Relationship, One Shot

Unrated

[ao3feed-nagron]

Bruised Hearts, Bloody Souls

by BeanSidhe_13

Spartacus with Dæmons. More character analysis than anything, but I might add stories or a plot line later.

Words: 511, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Spartacus Series (TV)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: F/M, M/M

Characters: Spartacus (Spartacus), Agron (Spartacus), Nasir (Spartacus), Naevia (Spartacus), Crixus (Spartacus), Gannicus (Spartacus), Sibyl (Spartacus), Oenomaus (Spartacus), Original Daemon Character(s)

Relationships: Crixus/Naevia, Agron/Nasir, Gannicus/Sibyl, Spartacus/Sura, Laeta/Spartacus (background)

Additional Tags: Canonical Character Death, Alternate Universe - Daemons, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, its Spartacus so yea they swear, Non Consensual Daemon Touching, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, this sounds dark but it’s not meant to be?

from AO3 works tagged 'Agron/Nasir' https://ift.tt/wIqQvjW via IFTTT