bakerstreet | Swear Myself to You ( shipping + smut )

Swear Myself to You ( shipping + smut )

The Swear Myself to You Meme

It's been like this your entire life. Or perhaps it just seems that way, since it's been this way so long. Or it could hasn't been that long, and you remember what things were like before - worthless, fruitless, purposeless. Now, though, all is different. You've sworn your life to someone...or had your life sworn to them by someone else, back when you were young or powerless enough to not control your life. It doesn't matter if this swearing is an expected part of your society or an oddity in a modern age, here you are, and you know what you're here for. This isn't servitude, not in a fashion, as there's theoretically an honor here in your absolute loyalty. You are essentially on your "sworn duty's" level, you've just, well, chosen to dedicate your life to them. So if you're their best or brainwashed into being their right hand, all of it comes from a place of admiration!

Hopefully!

Theoretically.

Your position, of course, means you're a tool to be used, and every job needs a different tool. What's your job? Were you raised from an infant be be a constant companion for the one you're sworn to, who you grew up with? Instead, you could be a bodyguard or a first line of defense. In some cultures, there's an expectation that people be good in bed for future spouses; you could be there to train the one you're sworn to in the art of lovemaking. Of course, how well you're able to do your job depends on how your relationship is with your most important person. Are they kind? Cruel? What if they don't want you? It will be incredibly awkward if neither of you want to be in this position.

One certainty is this, however: romance and sexuality, unless heavily controlled, is forbidden. After all, how can you effectively dedicate yourself to them if some part of you wants them to dedicate themself to you?

How to Play

Comment with your character, your preferences, and what side of the equation you'd prefer to play - the being sworn to or the one doing said swearing. There are also three settings available: old fashion, modern, and future. You may want to specify which one of those you'd like, if you have a strong opinion.
Reply to others.
Use the RNG to determine your scenario.

Setting

Old Fashion: In the days of yore, be it ancient, medieval, or pseudo-Victorian - or altogether fantastical.
Modern: The here and now, where swearing to someone is pretty rare.
Future: Years from now, who knows what strange alien cultures and technologies we'll have to abide by?

Prompts

From Birth: You two were raised together, as one of you was given as a baby. There's no one who knows the other better than you.
BFFs: You are intended to be their lifetime companion...platonically, of course.
Repayment: You owe your life to them in one way or another. Devotion is the least you can do.
Out of Love: The reason you swore yourself to them is because you love them and this is the best way to be close to them, even if you have to sacrifice other things.
Unwilling Charge: Can you swear yourself to someone who doesn't want you?
Spoils of War: Being here and swearing allegiance isn't your idea, but when you or your people are defeated in battle, there's not much else you can do.
Ward: Perhaps you weren't there as an infant, but you did grow up in the family from a young age. They may be like a sibling to you. Would you be able to view them in any other way?
Marriage: ...a marriage is sort of a swearing, isn't it?
Mind Control: You need to be more pliable and loyal to be any good, servant.
Familiar: You were created through magic just for them.
Guard: Focus. You have to protect them, and you can't if you're distracted.
Eunuch: You're supposed to be completely chaste and celibate, or at least that's what they and those around them think.
To Teach: Your charge is going to be married, and you have to teach them how to please a future spouse.
Jealousy: You know you're not supposed to be
More than One: Someone else has sworn themselves to your charge...you were here first!
More than This: You want to be more to them than just a glorified servant.
Unwilling Charge: They don't want you, but you have to serve them.
Redemption: This is your way to make up for the sins of your past.
...what?: How to you get someone sworn to you again?
Utter Devotion: There isn't anything you wouldn't do for them. Anything.
Forbidden: Being with them sexually is a punishable offense for you, but neither of you care.
Equals: In society, you two are on different levels. In private, you see more eye to eye.
Not Too Serious: The more crack-y option. They saved you...but it was from something like stubbing your toe. Obviously, you owe yourself to them. Or something.
FREESTYLE

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[Could be either side of it. Any time period works.]

[More likely the one doing the swearing. I'm open to either however.]

((OOC: Any Middle Earth folks out there? Anyone??))

[Preferance for modern or old fashioned, ota except for #9 - no smut please]

[Ranmaru would swear himself to someone else. Just no 12, otherwise OTA. Can age him up.]

[6, 18, or 20? Can go with modern Mafia setting or ye olde samurai whichever you'd like 8D]

[6 and 20 would seem to fit better. If it was 6, who would be the spoils. And, I am fine with Mafia :)]

[ ooc: Swearing or being sworn. No to 9 please. ]

[ Let's keep it modern. Maybe werewolf/pack dynamic stuff? ]

[Maybe guard and/or equals/friends ]

[ the one being sworn to, obviously. ]

[Can be either side of it. Prefer either modern or pseudo-vicotrian since he lived during those times.]

Edited 2016-10-16 07:30 (UTC)

[Mostly will be people swearing to him, but there can be exceptions!]

When Symon had sworn himself to Lord Tyrell it had been in the massive Sept in Highgarden, with all the lords and ladies of the Reach in their finest, sparkling like birds of paradise. The scent of the seven oils had been sharp in his nose, the Septon's touch warm on his forehead.

This was nothing like that time, the late afternoon light slanting past the half-drawn curtains. It was warm on his chest, warmer than that touch all those years ago, and his eyes slipped shut.

And Lyr was even warmer than the sunlight, his lithe body pressed against the line of Symon's own. Idly, Graves traced his fingers over the line of the Dornishman's spine, his breath slowly trickling past his lips.

"Do you ever feel like you're existing, just waiting for something to happen?

Some many hours after their drug-fueled, anonymous romp through Fleabottom. They weren't young men anymore, and the time had worn on them. Getting clean at midmorning had taken half their energy, and sipping on broth and watered wine all the rest. They lay tangled together atop the bed near the open doors to an empty balcony, listening to the noise of the street below, the scent of sea and sandalwood candles light on the warm air around them.

"Not often... I'm too restless. I must always be making something happen. If I'm not moving forward, I feel that I'm sliding back..."

He muffled the last of the words against Symon's shoulder, twisting toward the other man and toward the touch.

"You're in constant motion." Symon agreed quietly, fingers shifting up to card through Lyr's dark hair. It was streaked through with grey now, the silver mirroring the scarring over his tanned body. Graves' pushed his thumb against the Dornishman's temple, rubbing lightly in that way that Lyr appreciated so.

"All your fingers in all of the pies." His mouth twisted, sardonically amused. "But opportunity blossoms around you like lilies after rain."

Lyr's eyes closed and his lips parted and he drank it in, inhaling slowly and steadily. His body eased, inch by inch, going liquid under these attentions.

"It does me good, to be the man who brings good fortune with him. Wasn't long ago many men were happy to spit into the eye of Dorne."

"And many still do." Graves pointed out dryly. "We still tell tale of Dornish soldiers flooding our keeps, leaving death and infant heads dashed on stony floors." Oddly, the corner of Graves' mouth turns up, as he were recalling a fonder time. "And our sterling lord," That smile was then gone in an instant, "Lost all of sons."

"Oh, but that's just the Reach. The joint opinion of all the other realms weigh far more significantly on my mind," murmured Martell, an undercurrent of laughter in his voice. He reached up, touching Graves' hair fondly.

"Your lord should have lost more."

Steel replaced the smile, and for a moment, a rage and hate akin to madness burned in Graves' eyes. It was like peering over the edge of the cliff, expecting to see nothing but thin air, but instead seeing the churning heat of a caldera, a burning heat hot enough to melt stone.

But then it was gone again, Symon's pale eyes shuttered and hooded, and he turned his gaze away from Lyr.

"We rarely agree on the Reach," He replied, his voice a low, soft cadence, "But on the topic of my lord, we can."

The sight of that sent a pleasant, spine-tingling, toe-curling jolt through Martell, whose pupils went a little narrower. He held his breath until his lungs felt uncomfortably tight... and exhaled slowly, when Symon looked away.

"I can't fault a man for loving his homeland," he began, the words carrying an almost apologetic ring. "And I'm glad that we can agree... on the one point, at least."

At that, Symon's mouth twisted a little, though he was too well-mannered to roll his eyes. "I'm proud of my region, but I'm no fool, Lyr. You know me better than that." Graves' lips thinned and he added, "There is little I hate more than an incompetent man. A man who has opportunity and then wastes it." Symon, who had to fight and claw his way for every little scrap given to him.

"There are some men, some men I would have considered wise in all other respects, who will follow others beyond hope or reason," Lyr clarified, his mouth bowing into a thoughtful frown. His tanned fingertips touched the edges of Symon's bangs, ghosting along his forehead.

"Some time ago I would have thought you'd accuse me of wastefulness," he added, reaching for levity, the glitter of humor returning to his eyes.

"Oh, I never thought that you would be useless." Symon replied, matter-of-fact. But the corner of his mouth turned up, "Someone who gave me that much trouble for so many years couldn't possibly be a waste."

Lyr tipped his head back and laughed, the sound full-throated and low, husky. Richly pleased but very tired.

"Oh, I know I'm not a waste, but that... to your thinking, all my indulgent habits might be... a sort of wasteful you couldn't condone." Still smiling, he sank back into the bed, shaking his head a little.

"Your bastards." Symon's lips thinned once more. "That, I disapproved of. Do, disapprove of. If you wanted to stick your prick half the women of Westeros, then that would be your prerogative. But to leave a trail of children behind, without an ounce of shame it's just-" He paused, trying, and failing to find the precise word to describe his feelings on the matter, "It's rude." He settled on, "It's not done."

"Why is it rude, if I extend the offer to care for them after?" Inquired Martell, genuinely curious: he knew the other man's opinion of his habits.

It wasn't going to stop him in the slightest, of course.

"It's not the care, it's having them. It shows you have no respect for the bond between husband and wife by so blatantly breaking it in a way that everyone can see. It's about appearances." Symon shrugged, "I've broken this bond with my wife, I'm breaking it right now, but I respect that oath enough to keep this a secret." He was calm, logical as he laid out his reasoning to Lyr.

"And what about men with no wives, Graves? Should we all cast aside our sinful ways and find a broodmare to marry?" Drawled Lyr, watching the other man quietly.

"Keep it quiet." Symon replied without a second thought. "Or go to whores. You can slake lust without bring shame on yourself."

"There, I suppose, is the key difference of our opinion. I don't find it shameful in the least. I want children. I want... a family that stretches beyond all easy imagining. To know that my children will go on to touch all parts of the world, and no matter the wars or troubles they will face, to know that they will never be alone in the world."

Not like I was.

This had been a complicated series of events. Davy had not brought Jake to Faerie under the best of terms and he had pressed the man against a wall. The deed was done, though, and out of a very complicated night of passion, Davy had the children he needed to avert a terrible fate, growing safely in their mother's wombs. Jake, meanwhile, would have a new life in Faerie, where he could keep an eye on what were rightly his children, and live free of an oracle's burdens in the mortal worlds.

That, however, wouldn't do much to erase what Davy had done. He could and would not take it back, but he could do his best to make amends to the man in the time they had together. Davy had already offered him the safety of this world as a generality, but there was more he could give, and some repentant part of him wanted to at least offer it.

It was night in Davy's lands; countless stars filled the sky, scattered about a burning white moon that hung like a behemoth in the heavens. He had searched about for Jake high and low, and eventually found him on one of the towers. Davy appeared quietly and kept his distance.

"Enjoying the view?"

Time was a strange thing in Faerie. He had no clue what governed it, but some days Jake would sleep full cycles and never once see the hint of sunset, while other days he could track the passing of day and night in the span of hours. He always wondered what it would be like to live in worlds that resembled his dreams, and now that actually lived one, it was far more disconcerting than he cared to admit.

Not that there were very many people that he could admit it to. Davy would probably listen to him, but any time he felt he could muster the courage to voice his problems, he remembered their association was born of a bargain. There was no guarantee that he cared about Jake's wellbeing beyond that capacity, and in that light, Jake's own problems seemed petty. He'd always been alone for as long as he could remember. But the necessity of keeping secrets was what had kept his distance. He knew and talked to people. He was friendly with quite a few. But here, everyone knew what he was and in what capacity he was here. He felt more like a pet that people fawned over than he did advisor and progenitor of the instruments that would end a war.

The tower he was in had become a second home here. Somewhere he could go to that he could get away from the stares or polite disregard. He missed his little rowhouse, but the way time moved here made him uncertain if it had been foreclosed on, or if the place even stood anymore. He was afraid to find out. Instead he focused on the beauty around him. The Stars were never so bright or numerous in his hometown. The moon was never so close. It was beautiful in a way he could never describe, and--

"Fucking Shit!"

He turned around, trying to catch his breath, when he caught sight of Davy. He smiled sheepishly when he finally recognized him, running a hand through his hair. "They should put a bell on you."

Naturally, this was not the first time Davy had ever been told he needed a bell or some other such device to announce his presence. It always managed to amuse him a touch, perhaps a bit more so with Jake. He took pleasure in being able to move about like a stray cat, free to reappear and disappear at his whims, and he had no intention of changing that. Well. Maybe just a little with what he was going to propose tonight.

"Apologies for the fright. I didn't know if you'd have spoken to me if I announced myself." Davy could at least manage to look a little bashful at that moment, averting his eyes as he let his smile grow. He would have respected a request to leave, at this point and for a little while, if Jake had no desire to speak with him. But apparently they were somewhat okay on that front.

"I wanted to discuss something with you." Davy began to press forward, taking easy steps toward Jake's side, leaving enough room for comfort between them.

"I wanted to make you another- arrangement, if you're willing to hear me out."

"I probably would have. It's not like I hate you, or anything." Okay, maybe there was some resentment at the whole situation, but all things considered, Davy had been nothing if not fair to Jake since they'd come to their accord. And he was a damn sight more personable with Jake than nearly everyone else in this...land? Dimension?

He straightened himself out with the mention of discussion. Davy had come to him for a few matters that Jake hoped his dreams had cleared up, so it wasn't like he was wasting away. But any sort of professional air he tried to build up deflated as soon as he heard the request.

"Another one? You're already getting my kids, what else do you--" he stopped himself before he could continue. The words came from frustration, and nothing useful. And as much as he didn't mind the presence of Davy Jones, sometimes he wondered if that was because of his lack of options in this place. He closed his eyes tightly, taking in a dep breath and letting the tension out before allowing himself to look at his king again. "That...was out of line. But I think you can understand why I'm not so happy to hear you coming to me with another one."

Edited 2016-10-24 15:21 (UTC)

Davy shut his eyes at the outburst. It was not wrong of Jake to do it, but that didn't change the fact that Davy didn't like being faced with what he had done. It made what he was about to offer seem all the more absurd, but he couldn't turn away from offering it, either. Jake was going to be here as long as the children were, and he wanted this to be better for him.

The faerie turned to face Jake, leaning against the parapet.

"How... would you like a place at my side?" Davy laced his fingers together, as if he were nonchalantly offering Jake a job. He stared down at them and began to twiddle his thumbs. He couldn't just come out and say it - it wasn't a lack of confidence, but a fair amount of human sense returning to his head. He wasn't playing the monster from their first meeting anymore.

"You're a guest now, but my people will only respect that so far. Your place would be... far more secure if we were bound together."

If the offer was jarring, the nervousness Davy was exhibiting in making the offer was something far beyond it. Jake had seen Davy lose control, but never had here seen this. He didn't even know his king was capable of the feeling. The situation had Jake frozen, not sure what the right answer would be.

"Bound together? Like... A spell or something?" He couldn't even attempt to hide his confusion over the offer. The two came from different time periods, and Davy had grown into his station while Jake was still floundering to find out just what his place here meant.

But still, the idea behind it was tempting. He was here for his kids, and as long as they lived, Jake would remain. That could very well be the rest of his life, short as it was in comparison to everyone else here. "If I said yes, what would that mean?"

Heavens above and hells below. Here he was acting like a nervous fool and muddling up his intentions. Davy could only laugh at himself, lightly so as not to disturb Jake. He'd never been married as a human, but since he became a faerie, he had married quite a few times for a variety of reasons. This wasn't the first time it was because of an odd sort of affection that had sprung out of a strange bargain, at least.

Davy moved closer to Jake and he slowly dropped down to one knee, so that hopefully it would make his intentions clear here. He reached for Jake's hand and took it lightly in his. His hands were warm and human now, not like the cold fire they had possessed on their first meeting.

"It means marriage."

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Swear Myself to You ( shipping + smut )

Aric Dominija | The Arcana Chronicles

Yukina Suzumori | Demons' Bond

Tauriel | The Hobbit

Rey | SW: TFA | OTA

Grace Ford | OC | m/f

Ranmaru Mori | Samurai Warriors | M/M

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Goodnight Robicheaux | Magnificent Seven (2016) | OTA

Derek Hale | Teen Wolf

Well she is an alpha

LEONARD SNART ( CAPTAIN COLD ) | DCTV | OTA

Leatherhead | TMNT IDW

Theo Raeken | Teen Wolf

Symon Graves | ASOIAF OC

For Lyr (one of those exceptions...)

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Rey | Star Wars

Davy Jones ♆ OC ♆ OTA

for powerfont (3+5+8+22)

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