#despite being bred and raised for it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rowarn · 1 month

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THEE DEARLY WED !

kyle 'gaz' garrick/reader | MDNI

tags: noble!reader, noble!kyle, arranged marriage (not to each other), forbidden love

cw: technically infidelity (kyle and reader cheat with each other despite both being engaged), loss of virginity, cunnilingus, wet and messy, body worship elements, consent, soft!kyle, piv, soft sex, simultaneous orgasms

a/n: thank u to everyone in the silly discord server for helping me decide on this one LMAOOOO i never woulda done it without you. also!!! don't expect any kind of accuracy on this, it is merely a work of fiction!

; it was decided when you were young that you would get married to someone you didn't even love. your heart belonged to the electrifying Lord Kyle Garrick despite him being in the same boat as you.

8.1k words

From the time you were a child, you had been fated to marry someone chosen by your parents. It was a silly, annoying custom among nobility and one you simply didn’t get a choice on. He was decided for you the moment you were born.

It’s all you’ve ever known. Your betrothed, Owen Knightly, was someone of high standing. It would be remarkably good for your family to marry into his.

You may have even been content with the life you were given if he had never come into your life. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if you weren’t in love with someone you simply couldn’t have.

You met when you were children. You were barely five years old and he was a few years older than you. It was one of your fondest memories, one that always brings a smile to your face when you reminisce.

“This is Lord Kyle Garrick,” your mother had crooned as she introduced you to the young boy who knelt upon one knee and gingerly kissed your hand. It was a sweet, innocent display of affection that had you swooning right then and there.

Your families ran in the same circles, the Garricks were on equal social standing as your own family. Every party and gala that the two of you were invited to, you managed to gravitate towards each other. Both of you knew how wrong it was – how it would ruin both yours and your families lives if you stepped one foot out of line. But the draw between you two was undeniable. You could see it in his eyes when he stared at you from across ballrooms, the longing that you experienced just the same.

Fate was incredibly cruel and fickle. You watched as Kyle grew to be a handsome man, desired by aristocratic families from all over the country. He was handsome, well bred, and so kind. You’d have to be blind to not see how incredible of a man he was.

Anyone would be lucky to be his betrothed.

You just wish it was you.

Unfortunately, the lucky person he was engaged to was chosen for him from the time of his own birth, someone whose status would benefit his family. The two of you were never fated to be together. It was a painful, irrefutable fact.

Still, that didn’t stop the two of you from making eyes at one another every time you saw each other at aristocratic gatherings.

He was the only thing that made a long, boring gathering interesting. Every time you received an invitation to a gala or a ball, you felt the excitement of being able to see him again.

Even if you were with your own fiance and he was with his.

“Good evening, Your Grace,” Kyle greeted, bowing down to place a kiss to the top of your hand.

“Hello to you, My Lord,” you smile, meeting his gaze for an electrifying moment.

The two of you break eye contact quickly, all too worried about raising suspicion.

Your gaze met his fiance’s who stood off to the side, nursing a glass of wine. She seemed completely disinterested in the conversation going on, instead glancing around the room.

“Our wedding is coming up awfully fast,” your fiance mused, placing his arm around your shoulders affectionately, “Isn’t that right, darling?”

It made your skin crawl but you mustered up a proper, practiced smile to shoot him, “Yes, it’s just a few weeks away. Oh, My Lord, you’ll surely be attending, correct?”

“Oh come now,” your fiance chided, “Lord Garrick is surely preparing for his own upcoming wedding. He’ll be much too busy to attend ours. What a silly question for you to ask.”

“Nonsense,” Kyle smiled, a sight that made your heart race despite the irritation you feel towards your fiance’s condescension. His dark eyes flitted to you, dropping to your lips before meeting your husband’s gaze again, “I wouldn’t miss such a blessed union.”

“You flatter us, My Lord,” you breathe, biting your lip. Hearing the man you love praise your upcoming wedding, even if it was a charade he put on, made your heart ache terribly in your chest.

“My love,” Kyle’s fiance wraps her arm around his arm, making your heart seize up in jealousy.

Kyle barely glances at her, instead keeping those deep brown eyes on your, “Yes?”

“Can we dance?” she asks, pointing in the direction of all the couples currently dancing in the center of the room.

“Of course,” he agrees easily, bowing gracefully at you and your fiance, “Please excuse us.”

“I say we should have a dance as well,” your fiance says, taking your hand, without even bothering to see if you wanted to in his, to lead you to the group of dancing people.

You fight back a sigh as he pulls your close against him, your chest pressed against his. One of his arms wraps around your waist, holding your other hand in the air while you rest your free hand on his shoulder. It was a practiced pose you’d learned all your life but it still made you want to curl your lip in disgust at being so close to this man.

The two of you begin to sway across the dance floor in time to the gentle rhythm of the music playing through the room. You stare over your fiance’s shoulder at all the people scattered around the ballroom. You find this entire endeavor to be rather dull, just high society people sucking up to one another in an endless cycle.

“Isn’t that right, darling?” your fiance’s voice grates in your ear, drawing you out of your daydreams.

“What?” you ask, meeting his gaze, “I didn’t hear you.”

“You’re so cute,” he gushes, clicking his tongue, “Always zoning out. Don’t need to think about anything when you’ve got your fiance here.”

You bite your tongue, feeling your eyes twitch at his continued condescension, “I was just admiring the beautiful ballroom.”

“Indeed,” he hums as he spins you around the dancefloor, “As I was saying, however, that Lord Garrick is an incredibly refined man, is he not?”

“Of course,” you agree, wishing so badly you could look around the room to find the mentioned man just to catch a glimpse of his handsome face, “His family is held in such high regard, after all. It’s only natural.”

“Indeed,” your fiance agrees, “And his upcoming union will only increase their status.”

There’s a lapse in the conversation as you both continue to dance. The mention of your beloved’s wedding tastes bitter on your tongue, sullying your mood even more. You zone out until the music slowly comes to a stop, slowing your steps to a complete stop.

The music starts up again, another song beginning to play immediately. Your fiance opens his mouth to say something but stops short.

“Excuse me,” a familiar, smooth voice interrupts the two of you.

You turn to see Kyle standing there in all his glory, smiling kindly, “If you would be so kind as to let me have the next dance.”

“I was just about to go get myself some refreshments anyway,” your fiance grunts, passing Kyle your hand.

He takes it gently, treating you like the finest, most delicate glass. It sends shivers down your spines, just feeling his skin against yours.

“I thank you,” Kyle bows politely before leading you deeper into the crowd of dancing couples.

Once hidden away from the prying eyes of your fiance, Kyle tugs you snuggly against him, assuming the same position you had before. His spicy, floral scent invades your senses and makes your eyes flutter at how nice it smells.

“Where did your fiance go?” you find yourself asking, though you don’t particularly care about her whereabouts.

“Not sure,” he responds, “Said she wanted to go talk with some friends.”

“I see,” you hum, eyes drifting to your hand clasped in his. His thumb occasionally strokes over the soft skin atop your hand.

“I’ve been dying to have a single moment alone with you this whole evening,” he confesses, keeping his voice low so no one nearby could hear the adulteress confessions coming from his lips.

“My Lord,” you breathe, your heart picking up as you meet his soft gaze. He looks at you in a way you’ve never seen him look at anyone else and it makes you flustered, “I was so happy to learn that you were also going to be here.”

“As was I,” he agrees, squeezing your hand in his, “I wish so desperately the two of us could slip away unseen.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve found ourselves alone,” you muse, chuckling to yourself.

“There will be a rather gaudy announcement shortly,” he says, “If you can slip away during it, I’m sure that no one will miss either of us so long as we’re back in time for the desert to be served.”

“Where shall we meet?” you ask, all too aware that this song was winding down.

“There’s a balcony overlooking the back gardens,” he says, the two of you slowly coming to a stop.

“I’ll be there,” he smiles at that, carefully dropping your hand to your side despite the fact neither of you want to let go of the other.

You miss his touch as soon as it’s gone but you know that you can’t maintain physical contact with him without gossip and speculation filling the hall. It’s already a dangerous game the both of you play with the way you’ve spent secretive moments alone despite your engagements. You crave so desperately to be able to love him publicly like other couples.

“I know you will,” he bows, kissing the top of your hand before turning on his heel and vanishing into the crowd on the other side of the room.

You have no choice but to find your fiance afterwards, despite the way dread fills your stomach when you lay your eyes upon him. He’s standing among noblemen, chattering away.

When you come into view he beams, “There is my beloved betrothed,” he says, “Such a sweet little thing, no?”

“Ah yes,” one of the other men hum, looking you up and down in a way that makes you cringe internally, “You are a lucky man, Owen.”

“Aren’t I?” your fiance wraps his arm around your waist, tucking you firmly against him, “Such a lovely doll all for me. Not the sharpest tool in the shed, as expected, but such a pretty face. Anyone would be envious of a man like me in my position with a beautiful fiance on his arm.”

You want so badly to roll your eyes at his insults and pompous attitude. Instead, you tune out the conversation and choose to look out over the party hall where all sorts of people mingle.

Your gaze finds Kyle from across the room. His fiance is on his arm and that prickly sensation of jealousy fills your chest but quickly vanishes when he looks away from the people he’s talking with to smile at you.

The melodic sound of a bell ringing across the room gets everyone’s attention. It falls completely silent as the host approaches the top of the stairs, dressed extravagantly to the nines. As she begins to address the crowd, you catch Kyle slipping out.

You turn to your fiance, “I’m afraid I must go to the washroom.”

“Take your time,” he nods, “Do return before the cake is served.”

“Of course,” you smile and carefully follow Kyle’s lead and slip out into a side hall.

The labyrinth of halls were easy to navigate since they were all too similar to your own manor. The music and chatter from the party quickly faded the further into the manor you got until you were finally at the doors leading to the balcony. You push it open, slipping through the opening before letting them softly close behind you.

Kyle stood, leaning against the balcony, staring off into the gardens. He was beautifully illuminated by the full moon and it made you breathless.

He turns to look at you, smiling, “I knew you’d make it.”

“I always do,” you whisper, taking his outstretched hand when he offers it.

“You look absolutely marvelous,” he breathes, pulling you close to him just like when you were dancing. Only this time, he spins and presses you back against the railing of the balcony. He crowds himself around you, leaning in to brush his lips against yours but not quite sealing you in a kiss. Your breath stutters in your chest, your noses grazing together from the proximity.

“You look handsome yourself,” you whisper against his lips, “I wished so badly to be the one on your arm this evening.”

“You’re all I’ve thought about this whole time,” he assures, hands gripping your waist, pressing himself even closer to you until his hips meet yours, “Every time I look at her, all I can think about is you. I wish it was you I was marrying.”

“Me too,” you whimper, “Owen is such a pig. All he does is talk down to me. He thinks me nothing but stupid.”

Kyle clicks his tongue, “That idiot has no idea what he has. He has everything that I desire and he doesn’t even know how to appreciate the life handed to him.”

He reaches up and cups your cheeks, hands warm and soft against your skin. He smells so good and the dark look in his eyes, illuminated by the moonlight, makes your heart race.

He can’t seem to help himself anymore, surging forward to press his lips completely against yours. You gasp into the kiss, winding your arms around his neck to pull him even closer. One of his arms winds around your waist, pulling you up onto your tiptoes so your chest is pressed completely against his.

“I adore you,” he breathes before kissing you again, unwilling to break the kiss for more than a second as he talks, “I’ve never wanted anyone in my life more than you.”

As you’re hidden away on this balcony, secretly kissing the man you truly love while your betrothed is waiting for you to return back to him just down the hall, you feel tears pricking your eyes. You sniffle and Kyle pulls back, eyes softening at the sight of your tears.

“What is it, my heart?” he asks, thumbing your tears away despite the way more takes their place.

“I love you, Kyle,” you confess.

“And I love you,” he smiles but it only makes you cry harder.

You pull him snug against you, hugging him as tightly as you can. He hums, winding his own arms around you to return the hug. His large hand rubs your back until you’re left just sniffling and hiccuping.

“I hate this,” you whimper, “I wish I could marry you.”

“I know, my heart,” he sighs, pulling back to cup your cheeks again, “These cards we’ve been dealt in this life are so unfair.”

“How am I supposed to marry that man when you’re all I want?” you ask, taking his hand in yours.

He nods his head, “I feel the same. I know for a fact you’re who I’m meant to be with.”

A silence lulls between the two of you as you both lament the lives you’ve been given. While you both had everything materialistic one could want, neither of you could have what you really, truly desired.

With you still tucked against him, he whispers in your hair, “We should be getting back before anyone misses us.”

“I don’t want to,” you whine, “I want to stay here with you forever.”

“I know, my heart,” he mutters, “I wish that were possible.”

You sigh and haphazardly straighten your clothes out, “Let’s get the rest of this evening over with.”

“You head in first,” he urges you to the door with a hand on your back, “We don’t want anyone to see us come back together.”

You turn around and lean up, pressing one final, fleeting kiss against his lips before you turn and disappear through the doors. Leaving him behind makes your heart feel like a lead weight in your chest but you push through it and force one foot in front of the other down the winding halls.

You follow the sounds of the party still going, music and bustle of people getting louder and louder the closer you get. Stepping back inside, you notice everyone’s chatting happily and eating cake. Your eyes scan the crowd before falling on your fiance who is still chatting away with the same noblemen as before. You take a sharp breath, steeling yourself as you approach him, plastering a practiced, fake smile on your face.

“Ah, there you are!” he greets with a broad grin, “I’m sorry I didn’t get you a piece of cake. I didn’t quite feel like holding it.”

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes and instead shrug your shoulders, “That’s quite okay. I didn’t want any anyway.”

Your fiance nods, “Probably a good idea. Don’t want my betrothed putting on weight before the wedding!”

He and his friends laugh and anger flushes through you. Your jaw hurts from how hard you clench it shut so you don’t snap at your fiance. You catch movement out of the corner of your eye and turn to see Kyle’s fiance rushing up to him. He catches her as she throws herself into his arms and you once again feel the sting of jealousy.

You avert your gaze and tune in and out of the boring conversation your fiance is engaged in.

“Say, have you been crying, darling?” he asks, finally taking note of your red-rimmed eyes.

“Oh, no,” you laugh softly, “I’m afraid I’ve been struck down with a nasty case of allergies. All these roses must be emitting some dreary amounts of pollen.”

“Ah,” he nods, taking a bite of his cake as he looks around at the array of roses decorating the ballroom. “That makes sense. They are quite beautiful though. Perhaps we should have some planted once we’re married.”

You plaster on a fake smile again, “Maybe.”

He sends a smile to you in return before turning his attention back to the other men. You promptly tune out and let your eyes glance across the hall, hoping this entire ordeal will be over soon.

Before long, the party begins winding down and people begin to leave, bidding goodbye to one another.

“Oh, Lord Garrick,” your fiance greets as said man comes up to the two of you.

“Hello,” Kyle smiles, “I just thought I’d come and say goodbye.”

“Oh yes, goodbye, My Lord,” Owen bows.

Kyle turns his gaze to you and lifts your hand to his lips, giving you one last kiss goodbye. You wish so badly you could feel his lips press against yours again but you know that won’t be happening again for a terribly long time.

“I believe the next time we’ll meet will be your upcoming wedding,” Kyle said as he straightened up.

“Most likely,” you nod, “Unless someone plans to have another party again.”

Kyle huffs a laugh, “I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

You smile at the sound of his laugh. His fiance tugs on his arm, bidding both you and Owen goodbye before they’re off.

“I guess we should head off as well,” he says, much to your relief.

Your bed sounds absolutely heavenly right about now. And you, quite honestly, just want to get away from your pig of a fiance and put this night behind you.

Before you know it, the wedding is just a few days away and anxiety practically consumes you. It seems like the days pass all too quickly. The apprehension of a wedding you want no part of seemingly making it creep up faster.

Your days are filled with wedding preparations. You and Owen spend your time sampling food to decide the wedding menu and signing invitations that are to be sent out as soon as possible. It’s a rather dreary time.

One weekend, you finally have a chance to escape the anxiety-inducing manor. You make your way into town, intent on doing a little shopping for yourself.

You’re wandering from shop to shop – thankful that you’ve managed to get out without any of the help on your tail. It was all hands on deck as the manor was prepared for the wedding and after-party, except for you, that is.

You’re busy looking at an array of expensive, imported fabrics when someone calls your name from behind. You whip your head around and find Kyle standing there, pretty, brown eyes wide and sparkling.

“Kyle,” you whisper.

He says your name again, taking a few, long strides over to you until he’s standing in front of you, “I was passing by and I swore I saw you in here.”

“It’s me,” you smile, already feeling your heart race at having him so close to you once again.

“I see that,” he laughs, raking his gaze down your body before finding your eyes once again, “You look lovely as always.”

“Thank you,” you feel your cheeks flush at the compliment, “What are you doing in town?”

“I had some errands to run,” he explains with a shrug, “What about you? I’m surprised to see you out and about with the wedding preparations.”

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest, “I managed to find an opportunity to get out of there while everyone was preparing the venue for the wedding. You should see the place, it’s a frightful vision with all the decorations and flowers.”

“Ah, of course,” he hides his laugh behind his hand, “The wedding is awfully close now isn’t it?”

Your smile fades and you hum, anxiously turning to look at the fabrics again, “3 days away, I’m afraid.”

Kyle falls silent behind you, watching as you comb through the materials. Your shoulders seem so heavy and there are dark circles under your eyes that no amount of powder on your face could hide.

He reaches forward and snags your hand up in his, “Come with me.”

“Where?” you ask but eagerly follow behind him as he leads you out of the store. He could lead you to the end of the world and you’d follow him.

The streets are noisy and bustling, thousands of people going about their day and lives. It feels nice to not be tailed by your servants because this way you can just feel like a normal person in society. With your hand tucked within Kyle’s, you almost feel like a regular couple going about your day together.

Kyle leads you through the maze of the streets before the two of you find your way to his carriage. The horses idly lift their hooves and step back down, clearly antsy to get going.

“Where’s your driver?” you ask when he opens the door for you.

“Left him at home,” Kyle answers easily, “Don’t worry I’m an excellent driver. You’re in good hands.”

“I’m not worried,” you giggle, sitting back when he slams it shut for you.

The spicy, floral scent that seems to always waft off him still lingers in the cabin. The carriage rocks as Kyle hoists himself up into the driver’s seat, taking the reins for the horses before setting off.

The hustle and bustle of town is left behind as the two of you make your way to a destination you don’t know. You look out the window, admiring the view of nature. With the gentle lull of the carriage and the soft sound of the horse’s hooves on the ground, you realize just how sleepy you are. The wedding preparations were apparently more exhausting than you realized.

Your name sweetly being called is what roused you. A soft hand cups your cheek and you open your eyes to see the handsome face of Kyle.

“We’re here,” he coos, taking your hands to help you stumble out of the carriage.

You look around, finding yourself standing in front of an imposing manor.

“Where’s here?” you mumble, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Another manor that my family owns,” he says, slamming the door.

“I see,” you hum, taking a look around. It’s a lovely place with neatly trimmed hedges and a fountain in the center of the circle driveway.

“What about the servants here?” you ask, allowing him to lead you up to the grand doors.

“There aren’t any here at the moment,” he assures, “All the servants are currently occupied with my own wedding preparations. You don’t have to worry, we’re alone here.”

“That’s lucky,” you laugh, sharing a soft look with him.

Once the two of you are inside, you take in the beautiful manor. There’s a beautiful staircase and the walls are adorned with expensive paintings, some of which you recognize yourself despite not being too knowledgeable on art.

“This was to be my home after my marriage,” he explains, waving for you to follow him up the stairs to the next story.

“I see…” you hum, trailing your fingertips over the beautiful wood banister but then pause, “What do you mean ‘was’?”

He stops in front of a door and pushes it open with a soft creak. You peek inside and discover a lavishly decorated bedroom. Being alone inside of a bedroom with a man who is not your fiance was incredibly improper. But Kyle is the man you love so you step inside with your heart racing in your chest. It feels so wrong, this rule was implemented in you your whole life being broken like this.

“I mean,” he hums, “If you’ll hear me out on what I have to say then the wedding will no longer be on. Neither will yours.”

Your heart lurches up into your chest as he leads you to take a seat beside him on the edge of the bed. He takes your hand in both of his, cupping it in his lap, stroking his thumb across your knuckles.

“What are you saying?” you ask, voice tight.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a long time,” he explains, “I want you. I don’t want to see you married off to that pig of a man they’ve set you up with. I don’t think I can live a life married to someone else when all I can think about every single day is you.”

“Kyle…” you whisper, squeezing his hand tightly, “Are you saying you want to call off the weddings? Our families wouldn’t–”

“No,” he grumbles, “I don’t want to call off the weddings. I want to marry you. Our families would never allow it but,” he takes a deep breath, “If we’re not under their charge anymore then what can they possibly do?”

“You want to run away?” you gasp, anxiety filling your chest when he nods, “But that-!”

“Our lives would be infinitely harder,” he smiles ruefully, “We wouldn’t have any of the comforts we have now. Our families wouldn’t support us. We’ll be disgraced by society and our friends. It’ll be hard but it would mean we can be together like we desire.”

“Kyle…” you whisper, eyes wide as you stare at him.

“I understand it’s daunting. And if you choose to tell me no then I will do as you wish and continue to live my life this way,” he breathes, “I will continue to live with the agony of only getting to see you in secret, if that’s what you wish. But…” he reaches forward and cups your cheek in one big hand, “If you say yes then I will kiss you right now and I will show you just how much I love you and how much I need you to be mine.”

Your lips are parting before you can even make heads or tails of your own thoughts, “Yes, Kyle.”

Just as he promised, he surges forward and presses his soft lips against yours. The kiss is desperate and heated with one of his hands moving to cup the back of your head, keeping your lips firmly planted on his.

You whimper into the kiss, the euphoria of having your love’s lips once again too much to bear. You feel the bedding beneath you as he pushes you down, holding his own weight above you with one hand to avoid crushing you. But you crave to feel his body against yours.

You wrap one arm around his waist and pull him closer so his chest is flush with yours. Despite the layers of clothes separating the two of you, you can feel his body heat permeating through to you.

That spicy, floral scent that wafts off of him is all around you. Your heart flutters in your chest and your hands tremble like leaves in the wind as you desperately grasp at him. He doesn’t break the kiss, even as you feel the hardened press of his member between your thighs.

The air feels thick with every inhale, a foggy haze settling over your mind the deeper the kiss gets. After a moment, he finally breaks the kiss only to dive down to press his lips to your neck. His hands flutter around your clothes, working the buttons and ties open so the fabric can easily be pulled away from your body.

With every inch of bare skin exposed, his lips touch upon it and goosebumps rise in response. Your trembling fingers grip the expensive fabric of his shirt, needing to feel grounded to him as his lips wrap around one of your nipples.

You whine, back arching when his hand comes up to roll and pinch your other nipple between his fingers. You’d never been touched like his before and it felt electrifying, each swirl of his hot tongue making your thighs twitch where they rest around his lithe hips.

“Kyle,” you gasp, “C-Can you–?”

“What?” he asks, barely separating from your breast to ask.

“T-Take off your shirt,” you request, cheeks feeling impossibly hot from the new stimulating pleasure your body is receiving.

He chuckles, parting from the torture he’s inflicting on your nipple to sit up on his heels. He pulled off his suit coat, letting it fall to the floor. You watch with wide eyes as he pulls his tie free from around his neck before his fingers drift to his waistcoat to pull the buttons apart. You follow those long, pretty fingers as they meticulously undo his shirt button by button until the smooth expanse of his chest is exposed to your greedy eyes.

You reach up and slide your hands up his chest, pushing the articles of clothing off of his shoulder until he lets them drop to the floor to join his jacket.

He’s on top of you again in seconds, large hands gripping your waist, your skin dimpling under the grip he has on you. You whimper when he cups your breasts, thumbing over your nipples as you sigh in pleasure.

“Will you let me undress you completely, my heart?” he whispers, sounding breathless.

“Yes, please, Kyle,” you nod, eagerly lifting your hips so he can free your lower half of the last bit of clothes that cover your body.

He sucks in a deep breath when your pretty form is fully exposed to his gaze for the first time. He knew you were beautiful but like this, with shy hands over your bare breasts and smooth thighs clenched tightly together to hide the most intimate part from his greedy, prying eyes.

“You’re magnificent,” he whispers as if any louder would break the sanctity the two of you have cultivated together in this bedroom, “Why do you hide from me?”

“I-I don’t know,” you respond, cheeks burning hot as you avoid his gaze, “I feel so shy like this.”

He smiles, pretty teeth on full display, eyes crinkle up when he does. Gentle hands cupping your knees, he tenderly strokes your skin, “There’s no reason to be shy around me. I adore every inch of you and your body. Won’t you let me admire you like you deserve?”

His gaze is so soft and kind that you feel your body relax at his assurance. Your arms fall to your sides, letting him see those pretty tits again. His mouth waters at the sight of your perked nipples.

But then you let your thighs fall open and the prettiest little cunt he ever could have imagined opens up to his greedy eyes. Your folds are shiny with a layer of slick and his tongue suddenly feels much drier than it did a second ago.

He realizes, in that moment, that he needs nothing more than to quench this apparent thirst right there between your legs.

You gasp when he grips beneath your knees and spread you open even wider. Your hands fly to cover your face, unable to take the embarrassment that floods through you when his face gets closer and closer to your pussy.

Two fingers dip into your folds, a loud, sticky noise sounding when he parts them. Your clit is puffy and swollen while your little hole twitches and drools messily at the contact. Slowly, almost painfully so, his tongue falls from his mouth to lick a wide strip over your cunt. You practically wail when his tongue drags over your clit, the little bud hard and twitchy against his muscle.

His lashes flutter at the sound. It encourages him to lick over the bud again. It earns him another sound, like a little reward for every correct touch he gives you.

He focuses there, pinning your hips down when you start twitching and wiggling beneath him. His tongue swirls and swirls around your clit, drool and slick coating his chin and dripping down to the bed. He doesn’t care, the mess isn’t even on his radar. He’;s too lost in the sweet taste of you dancing on taste buds. You taste better than the most exquisitely crafted meal he’s ever had in his life.

Your hands slam down to grab the bedding, fisting it desperately until the fabric creaks under your grip. The feeling of his tongue swirling and licking your clit is too much, you feel like you can’t take a breath deep enough. He moans and sighs softly into your cunt with every sweet little sound you gift to him.

One of his fingers finds your entrance, the little hole clenching pathetically around nothing.

He detaches his lips from your clit, swallowing the sweet slick filling his mouth before asking, “Have you ever touched yourself here before?”

Your cheeks flush unbearably hot at the question but find yourself shaking your head, “N-No.”

He sweetly smiles at you, “I’ll be gentle.”

He hums thoughtfully and after a second, he begins sliding one of his fingers into you. It burns, even that minute stretch and his heart aches at the wince on your face. He leans forward and lets his tongue find your clit again, slurping it into his mouth so he can wrap his lips around it. The feeling makes your entire body tremble, your jaw falling open but no sounds actually come out.

He doesn’t let you think too much about this feeling, using your relaxed, almost brainless state to introduce a second finger. It finally makes a whine break through from your chest, back arching and eyes rolling back into your head once he sinks them to the last knuckle.

You never would have thought that something like this could feel so good. Your brain feels hazy, like no coherent thoughts can form. All you can focus on is how wonderful it feels to have Kyle’s thick fingers stuffed inside you while his pretty lips suckle on your sensitive clit.

“K-Kyle!” you wail, feeling a hot ball swell up in your tummy.

“What is it, my heart?” he coos, looking up at you through his lashes.

“I-Is it supposed to feel like this?” you meekly ask, lips swollen from biting them through your pleasure.

“Like what?” he asks, slowly moving his fingers snug inside your walls, careful not to hurt you. You’re coating them in sweet, syrupy slick and it’s a marvelous sight.

You twitch when he does that, your head falling back against the pillows, “Good.”

“You deserve nothing but pleasure, my heart,” he coos, eyes locking back onto the sight of his fingers stuffed inside your cunt.

When he pulls them back, they’re coating in a milky white sheen. The sight makes him moan under his breath, carefully fucking you with them in preparation for something bigger. He keeps the pace slow, not wanting to overwhelm you with pleasure. His fingers crook upwards, hitting that gooey little spot inside that makes your hips buck up. Your cheeks burn when you hear the filthy, wet, sticky noises that come from where he’s fucking you open on his fingers.

He can’t believe he gets to see you like this; open and exposed for him. Any ounce of shyness has completely evaporated, allowing him full view of you in your basest, dirtiest state.

“I’m a lucky man,” he huffs to himself, still fucking his fingers into that perfect spot in your cunt. You’re making the sweetest sounds and twitching so cutely on the bed from how good he’s making you feel on just his fingers alone.

You can’t even bring yourself to answer, too consumed with how fucking good it feels being fucked with his fingers. While you’re too dizzy to even think straight, he brings a third finger to your hole.

It burns when he pushes it in but he brings his thumb up to rub your clit. You relax again, pain and pleasure mixing intoxicatingly, allowing the third digit to easily slide in alongside the others.

He has you worked open on his three fingers, fuller than you’ve ever been in your life. You’re so hot and wet inside that it feels like his skin is burning, he can’t wait to know what it feels like to have you speared on his cock.

“K-Kyle, wait!” you wail, reaching down to grip his wrist.

He freezes, letting you push his hand away. His fingers slide out of your cunt, your little hole clenching around nothing now that it was empty.

“What is it?” he asks, panic gripping his throat, “Did I hurt you?”

“N-No, I just…” you’re panting as you clumsily sit up, “I-I just wanted a break. It was…a lot.”

His anxiety melts off of him and he smiles, “Alright.”

“Can I…” you look down at his own pants where you can see the bulge of his cock against his thigh. Even clothed, it’s intimidatingly big. You swallow down the anxiety at the sigh and reach out to palm at him.

“Oh, let me undress,” he pants, quickly shedding the last few layers until he’s as naked as you are.

His cock is long, thick and pretty. It’s hard, twitching against his stomach as it drools precum down the shaft. You lick your lips and reach your hand out, glancing at his face to make sure that he’s okay with it before your hand wraps around him. He sighs, shoulders relaxing where he stands at the first bit of pleasure on his neglected cock.

He reaches down to guide your hand, showing you how he likes to be stroked. Your movements are clumsy and your grip is unsure but the sight of his fat cock wrapped up in your pretty hand is enough to make his cock drool messily all over himself.

“Can I…” you look up at him, pretty eyes sparkling, “Can I use my mouth like you did for me?”

His cock twitches at the question, imagining what it would feel like to have his cock buried in your tight, hot throat. But he finds himself shaking his head despite how badly he wants it, reaching out to run his thumb over the seam of your lips.

“It’s dirty, sweetheart,” he coos, “You don’t need to do that.”

“But you did it for me,” you argue, pouting at his words.

He smiles, “It’s different. I live only to give something as divine as you pleasure, my heart. You don’t need to degrade yourself for me like that,” you open your mouth to argue but he pushes you back onto the bed, “Besides, I want to get to the main event.”

“This isn’t over,” you pout but settle into the pillows, letting him arrange your legs so they’re situated around his hips.

“Yes, I’m sure,” he laughs, “You are quite stubborn.”

“I’m glad you noticed,” you giggle, feeling incredibly at ease despite the imposing image of his monstrous cock resting on your stomach, showing you just how deep he’s going to reach when he’s inside you.

He leans down, letting his weight rest on one arm above your head. You feel safe, protected under his body like this and can’t help but wind your arms around his neck when you have him so close.

“Can you just relax for me, my heart?” he asks, lips brushing against your ear as he uses his free hand to direct his cockhead to your drooling entrance, “Just relax…that’s it. So good for me.”

You’re so wet and slippery as he slides the head between your folds that it’s embarrassing. Your body twitches beneath his when he slips the head over your clit before pressing against your entrance again. Your jaw falls open as he pushes inside ever so slowly, centimeter by centimeter.

Your nails bite into his shoulders but he ignores it. He knows it has to burn, has to hurt with how tight your precious little cunt is around his big, fat cock. He forgives you for clawing up his back like this because it’s the least he deserves for bringing your divine body any kind of pain. But he knows it will all be worth it when he’s finally balls deep.

You’re making the sweetest sounds as he works you open, sinking himself deeper and deeper with every passing second. Before long, he balls are pressing against your ass and his pelvis meets your clit. Your walls seize around him at the pleasure, a moan of his own breaking from his chest. There’s a deep ache from the way the tip prods against your cervix but even that still feels good.

You can’t keep quiet even if you wanted to as he begins slowly and gently working his hips back and forth. You have this delirious look in your eyes, they’re sparkling with your pupils blown wide and you stare at him like he’s a god. This pleasure you’re feeling for the first time is hypnotic, addictive.

“You can’t ever marry anyone else now, my heart,” he coos, gripping your chin so you look at him, “No man will ever be able to satisfy you like I can.”

You shake your head, “Don’t want anyone else, Kyle,” your words are slurred as you speak them, “Only want you. I only love you.”

“That’s right,” he whispers, sweat beginning to bead along his forehead, “Only me. You’re all mine, I won’t ever share you again.”

He pulls back to look between your bodies, seeing the way you’re creaming messily around his cock. It aids in the movements, makes them smoother and deeper. He prods against the gooey, tender little spot deep inside of you that makes your moans pitch higher and your pretty eyes roll back into your head. You’re the vision of sin.

One of his hands finds yours, threading his fingers between your own as he pins it to the bed. He uses it as leverage to work his cock in and out of you. His hips slap against yours over and over again.

He hits that tender, sweet little spot inside you that makes lights explode behind your eyelids. You eagerly spread your legs for him, wanting to feel him more and deeper. You’re gasping, moans being punched out of your lungs every time he sinks completely inside you.

You’re making a mess around his cock, thick strings of sticky cum connecting his hips to yours. Filthy, sticky, wet noises of your cunt being fucked just like it deserves fills the room.

“Kyle,” you huff, jaw falling open as your eyes widen, “I-It feels…”

He knows. God, does he know. He feels the way your walls seize around him, clenching and spasming as the orgasm builds inside of you. His balls draw up, his own orgasm brewing inside him.

“Hold on for me, my heart,” he pants, “I want us to cum together.”

“Wh-What do you mean?” you manage to stumble out, eyes fighting to roll back into your head but you want to see him.

He looks beautiful, sweat coating his skin. The sun is dipping beneath the horizon outside, painting the room in beautiful shades of orange that only make him look ethereal. The light coming in from the window behind him gives him a halo, he looks positively enchanting and you find your mouth suddenly feels dry.

This man is yours, all yours. He’s yours to hold and to keep. No one can keep you apart anymore. He’s here with you in this bed, sealing his own fate to be with you for the rest of his life because he loves you like he’s never loved anyone else in his life.

From the day you were born, you were told you were to be with someone else. But you knew, in this moment, that you were truly destined to be with Kyle. You were put on this Earth for the sole purpose of finding him and loving him for the rest of your life.

You squeeze his hand in his when he leans down, pressing his forehead against yours. You’re both panting and gasping into each other's mouths.

“Look at me, my heart,” he whispers, cock aching and twitching within the tight, snug, grasp of your precious little cunt, “Don’t look away.”

You wouldn’t be able to look away even if you wanted to. He has you hypnotized, big, pretty eyes are deep pools of black. His pupils are blown impossibly wide and his lashes flutter with every wave of pleasure he feels within your pussy.

Your body seizes up as that tight thread of pleasure suddenly snaps, “Kyle-!”

His lips meet yours, sealing you into a kiss as his brows furrow. The blissful clenching of your cunt brings him to his own end. He grunts as he spills inside you, rocking his hips to work both of you through the electrifying, dizzying high that you share together for the first time.

You’re whimpering and whining into his ear as he works the two of you down with lazy, messy humps of his hips. His cock is softening, coated in a hot, sticky layer of your cum and his. It’s a filthy mess, dribbles from his length when he pulls out. Your cunt still clenches through the aftershocks, spilling out onto the bed – not that he cares.

Your arms wind around his waist and you pull him flush against you again. You don’t want him to go anywhere, you crave having his body close to yours as you catch your breath and wait for your heart to stop pounding like a scared rabbit.

He lays on his side beside you, curling himself around your body as he tucks himself protectively into his chest. There’s a comfortable, soft silence between the two of you. You can hear the birds outside as they chirp and you can hear Kyle’s soft breaths and beating heart.

“We’ll stay here for a few days,” he suddenly says, “After that, everyone will begin looking for us. We’ll have to leave town by then.”

“Where will we go?” you ask, affectionately kissing his chin so he’ll look down at you.

He smiles, brushing some stray hairs out of your face, thumbing over the soft skin of your cheeks where they’re still flushed hot from your activities. You kiss his thumb when he rubs it over your lips, “I’m not sure. Somewhere that no one will recognize us – where we can start a new life.”

“Anywhere will be a good life as long as I have you, Kyle,” you assure, leaning up to peck his cheek this time.

“I feel the same, my beautiful,” he kisses your forehead, “magnificent,” he kisses your nose, “betrothed to be.”

He seals those words with a sweet, soft kiss to your lips.

this work belongs to rowarn. do not modify or repost to other websites. reblogs OK!

#kyle garrick smut #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #gaz smut #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick smut #kyle gaz x reader #kyle gaz smut #cod x reader #cod smut

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mikareo · 7 months

Text

“ ࣭⸰ ★ GARDEN SONG . . . ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ブルーロック ; itoshi rin x fem reader (6.8k)

⊹ ⠀⠀ rin's never been in love. he's never had the right to fall in love. so when sae is betrothed to a foreign princess, he doesn't bat an eye. you're just like every other girl who's attempted to marry his half-brother; yet, for some odd reason, he can't seem to shake you off. his heart aches thinking of you, despite how heated you make his head. he hates you. no. he loves you. no. rin doesn't know what he feels.

contains; royalty au, e2l, sfw, bastard prince!rin, princess!reader, reader is betrothed to sae, slowburn, rin calls reader names (like lowkey sexist sometimes), lots and lots of worldbuilding (bear with me please), forbidden love, swearing?, some sexual innuendos, kind of like...medieval dialogue??, tw rin literally calls reader a breeding ground like..., reader is very princess kaguya coded, some princess kaguya references near the end author's note; literally dropping this out of nowhere sorry lol :3 i think this is my best piece of writing i've like ever produced so pls give it a chance n enjoy it! i rewrote the whole thing today in present tense,, so there might be tense errors

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀this part of the fic is about 2 1/2 years old ⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀originally a keiji akaashi fic,, lmk any name errors ⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀extremely descriptive worldbuilding writing,, (heads up) if it's not ur thing then u likely won't enjoy reading this ⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀will have a second part titled swan song in the future!

It’s humorous to Rin— the perception that titles and notability have complete control over one’s life, obligations, and status. The pure and blind belief that every problem or issue can be solved with a man on the throne; a man whose birthright has always stated that that is where he belongs. Where he’ll rule and live out his days, utterly unhappy and self-sacrificing all for the benefit of people, his people, that he doesn’t even know. Strangers. Where he’ll wear a weighted crown encrusted in sapphires and jade, bound to strands of hair that’ll be ripped out if he dare defy his solemn promise to protect his kingdom. The crown must always be worn with pride and honor— the two things in the unspoken king’s code that every man of status is expected to follow— two simple things that seem impossible in Rin’s eyes.

Yes, he’s been raised according to the precept of manners and fulfillment of duties, but there’s something of the way his own father seems so distant and disconnected from the world around him— from the connections and relationships that he should be closer with— that makes the idea of being emperor completely disheartening. It’s completely and utterly horrid to Rin when he compares a life of golden chains to his dreams of travel and adventure.

It’s for the best that he’s nothing but a bastard child, then.

Prince Rin of the Itoshi family is nothing if not a black sheep. He’s a man who gentlemen aren’t envious of and whom women never lust for. He’s simply a royal with no drive, no meaning to motives or dreams, and no purpose to carry him onwards. Fortune and prosperity have never and will never be the necessary materials for his happy ending— but freedom and individualism, two contrasting colors amidst blocks of the same shade, speak his language. For in his situation, there’s no point in slaving away his natural qualities in hopes of gaining an ounce of respect from his parents.

The second born bastard child is but a shadow of a man when he stands behind the true heir—his half brother, Sae. The golden child, the pure-bred son of the true royal bloodline coming from their shared father’s genes. Sae, the future Emperor of Japan.

An emperor who’s bound to be married off to an unsuspecting princess who’s just recently come of age, and live happily ever after with their countless children. It sounds positively dreadful, doesn’t it? A life that’s been bestowed upon all of the men that have come before Sae— a life void of real love and connection, one that pleasures the theory of bountiful rulings in retrospect to genuine happiness. A life that Rin has never wanted for himself, and has been lucky enough to avoid.

But as his brother stands opposite to him, with his head held high as he’s about to meet his betrothed for the very first time, Rin feels pity.

It’s a sorrowful sight for Sae and the predicament that he’s been cornered into, but Rin knows his brother does not want his comfort. Their broken bond has been laced with new threads of sadness after years and years of competition— yet, everyone still deserves a choice in their future, in their loved ones, and that choice is being taken away from the crowned prince with every second ticking by.

Tick.

The time is now.

As the courtroom doors burst open, gold and silver accents vanish from sight. Five guests gracefully enter the palace— that of two guards, a handmaiden, a king, and the most important arrival…you. You, the princess of the neighboring royal family from the South. The royal family that will be merging with Rin’s father’s in a legal binding between you and Sae— the infamous royal wedding of the century.

“What an honor it is.” Emperor Itoshi greets your father with a firm stare.

The two men analyze one another, squaring out in a power strike before stepping forwards for a decisive handshake. As their palms clap together, Rin can see that this king is much different than his father— seemingly gentle, showcasing a non-plastic smile that’s true and bright whilst his daughter stands behind him— and Emperor Itoshi smiles back. “It’s truly spectacular to finally meet you; well, you and the princess, of course.”

At his words, your father grins and extends his arm out to you, encouraging you to step away from your trusted handmaiden and towards your future father-in-law— the man who’s retiring his lifelong title in a mere two months for the sake of passage that’s occurred for centuries. A sacred passage between fathers and sons, full blooded fathers and sons.

“Your majesty,” you bow your head.

As you curtsy in respect, your skirt drapes to the floor— the gown’s extravagance dusting the marble tiles, shimmering beneath the dense candlelight, and reflecting off the mirror and shined surfaces scattered across the ballroom. Despite the perception of beauty and grace that his father and brother seem to share for you, Rin peaks through the cracks of your facade. He can tell this regal persona you’re displaying is nothing but an act. Your stoic expression speaks all he needs to know, that everything about you is princess protocol and lacking personality, and proper folk have never been his usual cup of tea.

While he’s been ordered to entertain ladies of the court and women in the social ring for years-on-years, there wasn’t one occurrence where he actually obeyed his father’s demands— rather string along every maiden sent his way and bid them farewell after a night or two of endless, droning conversation; that and perhaps a few turns in and out of his bed chambers, which is a fact that is infamous among the palace staff. Rin disregards them, though. Tuning others out is his speciality. He uses it in daily conversation, diplomatic meetings, as well as other important matters such as the one happening now, right in front of him. Just a few feet away.

This is pointless.

Why is he being forced to be here?

It’s not like you're his bride.

Rin doesn’t even bother to tune into the presumptuous meeting of you and Sae. They don’t involve him in any way nor does he care for either of you. Typically, most others don’t give him the time of day, so who’s to say that they deserve it from him? The only thing he owes to others is his mere existence as the kingdom’s greatest mistake— all to remind the ton that there is a good and gracious prince, and they should be grateful that he is to be their ruler and not Rin.

Rin, whose birthright is to stand still and respond to his father’s wishes with no choice other than to agree.

So, as the decadence concludes with the bowing of heads and nods of approval dispersing amongst royals and servants, Rin thinks nothing of the way you and Sae stand beside one another in light conversation.

It’s desperate. The sight of you attempting to find a sliver of mutual interest or some sort of connection that binds the two of you other than royalty, makes him look in disdain. He’s grateful that he won’t be the one spending the rest of his already grey life with you, ruling the kingdom.

You aren’t really his type.

“Rin!” Sae’s voice rings through the courtroom, his eyebrows raise in expectancy as he ushers his half-brother towards his bride-to-be, wanting to introduce the two that’re going to be living in close proximity for the weeks to come. “Do come close, I’d like you to meet my bride. Perhaps you’ll find something in common and make a friend for once, for this girl can’t be another one of your whores.”

Typical Sae.

Whether the dig was intentional or unintentional, Rin grimaces at his brother’s words—pursing his lips into a tight smile and closing his eyes in an attempt to disguise his disdain with faint exhaustion.

“Apologies, my brother. I’m afraid I’m rather tired and would prefer to return to my quarters.” Rin nods towards the two of you in respect. “Do enjoy her company, yourself. I’m sure the two of you will be sharing personal physical matters in the near future— best to be comfortable.”

With a quick turn of his heel, he carries on, making his way towards the exit of the throne room, to his grand living quarters— quarters that are fit for a bastard prince such as himself. However, his rancid suggestions aren’t left unanswered, instead contemplated by you as he hears your light voice speak to his brother. Rin hates first impressions. Not because he gets anxious or worried about being disliked; but because he already knows whoever he’s speaking to already knows his history. They know the truth of his bloodline, and they’re never afraid to step on his already small ego. You’re no different.

“So the rumors are true then?”

You speak aloud in a low tone, deciding the best words to use, and phrasing your statements in the most respectful manner you can muster— not wanting to offend Sae in any way, shape, or form while you address his little brother.

��Your brother is not the royal he’s made out to be?” As your voice trails off, regret immediately overcomes you as the subject of conversation stops dead in his tracks.

A scoff escapes his lips, head tilting to the left as your remark settles beneath his skin— hitting that special little spot that enrages every buried emotion, feeling, and reaction in his heart.

Rin spins on his heel with a manic look on his face as he analyzes the regret hidden in your weary posture; which is in great contrast to the confidence and poise you’d displayed a mere seconds before— poise that appears to be only a facade, a mystery that he’d gladly uncover if he actually cared just an ounce about your wellbeing. Taking long strides towards you, ignoring the words of concern from his half-brother, he stops to a halt at your feet— giving you nowhere to avert your eyes, gaze being forced to rest on his anger and distaste only. The rage bubbling in the pit of his stomach is like an over-boiling copper pot, scorching water taunting the brink of the lid, causing it to fly off and wreak havoc elsewhere.

“Tell me, princess.” He ponders mockingly, finding great humor in how tense he was able to make you with three simple words.

“What is it that you make me out to be?”

There’s a shit-eating grin at the tip of his tongue, a taunting aura to his spite. Perhaps there’s a part of him that hopes your response will be genuine, positive to the darkness that’s held to his head on a daily basis— but no matter. He already knows what your misconceptions contain. He knows that you’d already filed him away in the troublesome cabinet at the back of your brain. It’s almost like he’s looking at an average cavern girl with great beauty. You’d be nothing without the small tiara on your head, that’s clear after determining the lack of assertiveness you assume.

…but perhaps, for once, Rin is wrong.

Not a single response emits from your mouth, the silent stare down between glaring eyes being intimidating enough; there’s absolutely no way you were going to anger the bastard prince any further. Yes, he’s considered to be nothing but a brute, but there’s something in his sparks of blue that makes you believe otherwise.

This man is an underestimated enigma, and you sure as hell aren’t going to be one of those common fools who blindly thinks otherwise.

“Your brother tells me you are a good man.” you speak enunciating each word to ensure that it gives its intended effect, that being of a derogative nature masked with falsified kindness and fortitude. “He says that your people adore you, that you are one in the same. Grounded. Of level head.” Bullshit.

Sae would never say those things.

The people would never say those things.

Rin scoffs, listening to the meaningless and unoriginal acclamations being brought to his attention, tired of having to hear them day after day by not only his fellow royals, but staff and peasants— and every other person who’s ever been fortunate enough to cross paths with the royal family, always being disappointed that he is the one to be met.

As he steps closer, wanting to see just an ounce of fear in your eyes, a frown is brought to his beautiful features. What?

In no way are you intimidated by his presence. There’s no shudder, no wince, no flinching whilst his steps grow closer and closer to your position. Just a blank stare of nothingness at his furrowed brows. You aren’t reacting like the other princesses that’ve come to attempt to wed Sae; all princesses who have come and gone due to Rin’s dark intimidation. You have spirit, a fire that’s not willing to be doused by his ocean of hatred.

“Are these your words?” he interrogates.

One of his hands reaches out to brush a stray strand of hair behind your right ear, noticing the tomato red of your cheeks. Smirking, he thinks to himself how dismantled you likely are beneath your stoney stance. “Or are these all of the things my brother has told you? Do you have any thoughts of your own, princess?”

“No need to answer that. I already know what you think of me.” Continuing on, deaf to the attempted precautions from Sae, he leans in— his lips just ghosting over yours, and whispers his final remarks.

“You’re an open book, beautiful— and I can’t say that I'd ever want to read you.”

So, as Prince Itoshi Rin’s steps recede, the distance between you two grows with every second; and you feel a bright, red, rage bubbling deep within your heart. It’s a hot and heavy anger simmering within your soul for the sly man with dark hair— knowing full well that he will be one of the many, if not the biggest, challenge you’ll face in your newfound kingdom.

And never before, have you felt more ready to take on a challenge.

Annoyance is the most prominent emotion Rin has felt in the past two weeks.

Utter disdain at the sight of you and Sae conversing through the courtyard, picking flowers in the rose garden, and taking romantic boat rides in the nearby lake. It’s one thing to fall in love, feel your heart begin to swell at the physical presence of that one special person— but it’s another to have to witness first-hand with no relation to the budding romance at all. Having no need to be involved in the newfound relationship, yet still being forced to interact as a third party member. It’s absolute madness.

He’s somewhat happy for Sae, he truly is. There’s a sense of pride in his soul at the sight of his half-brother stepping up to the position that he’s been in preparation for for all of his life— but with that promotion comes you.

With the rise of power comes your completely lethargic presence.

Oh how he cannot stand you.

You’re just insufferable. You’re unapologetically and unequivocally insufferable to his mind. The mere sound of your voice sends him into a downward spiral. The mere thought of your existence ruins his day with ease. The slightest mention of your life-lasting role in the kingdom he’d grown up in ignites the most powerful feeling of disgust he’s ever known. The weight of his conscience burns with every snarky remark, dig, and insult that flies from your throat; your trained grace never falling scarce in melody, although your words could be considered crude by any proper lady. Words that allow you to terrorize his brain in the midst of night, keeping him awake whilst the moon becomes one with the sun.

He fully believes that you were created to be the bane of his existence…the hell to his heaven…the demon behind all corners in the everlasting game that he has the misfortune of living.

“You’re looking a little grey today, Rin.”

Oh no…

“Perhaps it’d be wise to freshen up a bit!”

Please, just shut up.

“I’m sure the servants won’t mind spending a few hours by your side in an attempt to make you look handsome!”

He hates that damn sound.

There it is. The dreadful sound of your sing-song voice ringing through the hallowed halls, emptying the painfulness of your personality in the wake of the morning dew— as for some god awful reason, you always insist on being the first person to the dining hall, wanting to mark each new day with a classic and large Japanese breakfast.

“As I’ve said many-a-times before, princess.” His head swivels to face you, eyes rolling at the skip in your step. “You are to refer to me as Prince Rin, it is what I prefer.”

“Is it your honored title or is it what you personally enjoy?” you challenge, looking over your shoulder with a mocking pout, having the knowledge that he has certainly come to despise you in the short time you’ve known one another. “Greatest apologies, my liege; but it wouldn’t be proper of me, a woman, to call you, a man, a name that isn’t of great decadence.”

“Surely you can see where my true intentions lie?”

A pained grin comes to shine on his features, shooing away the rain clouds and allowing sparse rays of phony sunshine to shower you. His teeth bite his bottom lip as he struggles to keep his curses imprisoned between his heart and his tongue. You had to have been born of a despicable nature. In no world that is right, in no paradise would anyone deserve the punishment of having to know you— as Rin believes all tyrants belong with the street rats. Not to insinuate you’re a tyrant, but to express that you’re equivalent to a sickly rodent.

“I’m not a fool, you know.” he spits, striding towards your retreating figure and grabbing you by the forearm and stopping you in your tracks. Rin smirks as his touch forces you to become overwhelmed in shock. “I see you, princess. I see through your poise and ladylike mannerisms. I can see what a lonesome and sorrowful shadow you’ll inevitably become. No wonder you’re going to be nothing but an objectified woman, an accessory to Sae’s power— a dull little doll of a woman who perhaps had moxie in her past— yet still became a lifeless puppet beneath a bejeweled tiara, stuck with the hands of judgment up her arse.”

You’re a fool to go toe-to-toe with him, of all people.

Rin doesn’t think he’s ever seen such fire behind your eyes. Fire that burns hot, raging with seething anger and humiliation. If the world were to be supernatural, there’s no doubt in his mind that you’d have set it aflame in response to his vile predictions; the castle crumbling in ash with you standing alone in its wake atop his lifeless corpse that’s burnt to a crisp.

“You are entirely incorrect, never have I shown servitude for the sake of reputation—”

“Really?” his snarling voice interrupts you, refusing to let you get a single word in amidst his long-winded attack. “Then what is it that you’re doing right now, at this very moment. No princess with a functioning brain would ever find herself working with kitchen servants to prepare breakfast for two royal families. She’d simply order them to do it on their own. Every single thing you do is in order to gain likability from those who shouldn’t ever matter. If you had a backbone of any sort, you’d understand that— and you’d understand that titles are of nothing. They’re of no relation to any true purpose or meaning.”

“Then what are you?” you retaliate, ending the lengthy trail of hurtful words and confessions spewing from his mouth. “What are you but a sorry excuse of a prince…of a son?”

“You say titles are rubbish, yet you continue to wear that horrendous crown atop your hair. You choose to take it off of your placid vanity and wear it with honor; although you aren’t much of an honorable man, are you? If you were, then perhaps you’d have a grain of respect from your people. Perhaps you would spend your days in the throne room, being in the advisory alongside your brother— your splendid and valiant brother who has done nothing but serve for the greater good— instead of dallying away with mundane and useless tasks that no one cares to notice! As why would anyone bat an eye at a mistake, when they could be focused on someone like Sae. Someone of the sun’s decadence?”

The face opposite to yours is almost unrecognizable; with his red skin, flared nostrils, and dead-set eyes, Rin looks as if he’s just murdered a man out of spite and grief. He looks as if he’s just induced a homicide and is preparing to start anew, find another victim…that victim undoubtedly being you.

He tips his head downwards, breath grazing against your upper hairline whilst his dark crown shifts in his hair— nearly falling off the front of his forehead, the large arches seem ominous and unwelcoming along with the deadly ocean depths of his eyes. The usual gem-like blues holding a more dangerous tone than a tsunami.

Rin knows he’s frightening…

…and he’s enjoying it.

“You speak on things you know nothing of.” Rin fakes a straight toothed smile; his outside appearance looking completely opposite to the growing pit at the bottom of his stomach. If the peasant’s freak show has come to the kingdom, he’ll be the opening act—a fraudulent performer behind a mask of stoney emotions. “I have freedom and opportunity. If I so wanted, I could order a horse to be prepared, ride through those gates, and never look back. There is nothing holding me here— not my father, my brother, or the people. When will you realize how little your beliefs matter to me.”

He’s boiling with rage, as are you whilst his words ring truer than you’d like to admit; each one hitting the most insecure corners of your heart. “Your meaningless and unimportant opinions in relation to my kingdom— when in reality, you’re simply another black plague that’s washed upon its shores. Another person who’s crawled out of the local sewers and weaseled their way into the generous hands of the royal family. It’s just so unfortunate...”

“...that in the end, you’re nothing but a breeding ground for my brother.”

On instinct, without a coherent thought in your mind, you feel your arm swing out— open palm flying through the air, only to land against the dark prince’s swelling cheeks— leaving not only a bright, red mark, but also an expression of identical shock on both of your faces.

Taking a step back, he reaches upwards to cup the bruise only to realize that you’ve done far more damage than a measly purple wound. You’ve managed to produce a cut, one that seeps through his scarlet blossoms and runs from the corner of his eye to the bottom of his chin; displaying the path of your anger whilst your ring-studded hand has directed itself across his face.

Raindrops of ruby pour from the injury as you stare in horror at your blood splattered engagement ring.

The shimmering diamond turns dark as the tide of rouge rolls in, encasing the notion of property beneath your outspoken and unintentional hatred for Rin; and before you’re given a chance to respond, a second to apologize, the man has already stalked off towards his living quarters— not wanting to see the look of expected satisfaction on your face at the sight of his uncontrollable winces. You don’t deserve to smug as he rests in pain— despite how you are, in truth, regretful of what you’ve done.

Though, not that he’ll ever come to that conclusion.

As why would you, someone in the same likable ranks as a weathered gargoyle have any intent of remorse. Why would you, a woman who would soon have all the power in the world to hold over his head, care about a lasting scratch; no matter how deep.

You’re a tyrant, and oh-how he loathes a tyrant.

A garden of statues would perhaps have more purpose than Rin in his current predicament— standing between his father and half-brother, listening in on the up-and-coming preparations for the royal wedding; whilst even the breaths he takes are ignored, lost in a sea of ignorance and invisibility. Emperor Itoshi gleams with pride, his mindset focused on the change of power— the crown on his head that will soon be worn by his eldest son, the one of pure royal blood. Yet, with the happiness in his heart, his smile only reaches so far; never shedding light on the tundra that consumes his bastard child.

“Rin!” The man hollers beside him as he grasps Sae’s shoulder in a love-bound strength; his god-given touch of a father being miles-on-miles away from the fragile prince who needs it most. “Look at the life your brother’s going to make for himself! Witnessing him amidst the coronation will be splendid—”

“Remind me again, father.” Rin interrupts, not wanting to hear a minute more of the relentless doting. It’s night and day, a never ending string of praise and compliments, all for the great, Sae. “Where is it that I am to be for the duration of these wondrous festivities? I don’t believe I’ve heard spoken word of that as of yet.”

A wave of ignorance acts upon itself through his father’s careless hand, dismissing the trivial concerns of his youngest son; his heart only having enough room for one soul other than himself. “I suppose you’ll stand with the castle staff, it’s likely we have a limited space at the head of the church due to the size of our friends' traveling blood.”

The castle staff?

He’s to stand with lowly servants?

Rin doesn’t know why he feels so shocked, after all, he should’ve been expecting to be cast aside with those of low status. While his title associates himself with the royal lineage, he’ll never truly be accepted into the upper class— that divide has always been inflicted upon him by his own father.

“So, I am not to be in our primary aisle? I am not to have a sliver of sight at Sae’s crowning?”

There’s a hint of spite in his tone, a spite that was usually hidden from the eardrums of others, revealing itself to the people who’d known it was lurking for decades. While Sae simply disconnects himself from the conversation, a privilege that he’s lucky to have, refusing to meet his younger brother’s eyes— their father pushes further. He’s well aware of the growing insecurities his bastard child has, but he also knows how to obliterate the subject in its entirety.

“You aren’t pure.” His voice is stoney and directed at Rin whilst gesturing to Sae, as he shakes his head at his least favorite son. “I can’t possibly have you, a boy I conceived with a gutter whore, stand at the equal sides of neighboring royalty. It would be seen as disgraceful.”

This isn’t the first time Rin’s heard these words.

“You are a disgrace.”

His father tells him these things often.

“All you are is a physical representation of my shame, boy. You’ve already embraced the darkness—it’s about time you allow the shadows to consume you whole.”

That doesn’t lessen the pain, though.

With that, Kyohei turns away and grasps Sae’s arm, leading him towards their higher chambers; ones that Rin has never been honored to walk upon. There are no glances, no solemn, not a single look back by his father to perhaps ensure that his son is somewhat okay or devastatingly upset— though, neither one is true. The only emotion racing through the thick blood in his veins is emptiness. Just the familiar feeling of being worth absolutely nothing in the eyes of the man who should see him as the world. From the beloved emperor that cares for nameless peasants and civil servants, his father is seen as just and valiant— his true nature of disdain and cruelty only being known by his immediate family.

So as he walks alone, with no council weighing down on his heart, no angel on his shoulder, and no devil in the ranks— Rin is blind to the world around him. He chooses to maintain blindness in relation to any matter that seems regal and of importance. Since, after all, who is he to state a claim on that significance…

…when he, himself, has no significance at all?

His feet move on autopilot, like a white pawn at the match’s first mark. As if there’s a knife at his throat, forcing him to play down the chessboard— across the bi-colored tiles and towards the blackened queen. Him being a simple sacrifice; one of many to ensure a victory, no matter the underlying consequences. No matter the fact of how he’ll never hear the final calling, the call of wind inducing the fallen king and victorious player— as he’ll be far too acquainted with death to rise back from the shattered stone. A small sense of relief overcomes him as he steps into the courtyard. His soul is satisfied and alleviated at the location his muscle memory has taken him. While the twilight moon is nearing, his mind is awake; fully conscious and stormy of his own self-doubt and insecurities. Two things that can typically only be dissolved by his favorite location on the castle grounds.

The secluded lake amidst the willow trees. It shimmers and glistens beneath the draping branches, and acts as a hub of life and growth. His secret spot is possibly the most beautiful feature in the kingdom, at least Rin feels so; with its evening flowers and low-light critters, the soft grass and blossoming lily pads, and the perfect view of Andromeda— it’s his safe haven.

A safe haven that he prefers to keep to himself.

A place that no other person has stepped foot in for as long as he’d known of its existence.

A place that has just now been infiltrated by the disguised cockroach that is you.

“You torment me day and night within the walls of my own home; yet you still find it necessary to follow me as if you’re a lost duckling during ungodly hours.” he deadpans, shaking his head at the sight of your furrowed brows and taking a seat at the bay. Rin sighs deeply as his calloused skin comes in contact with the grassy fibers. “A proper princess would be in her chambers by the time midnight struck. It’s nearly 12:30, princess.”

Why are you looking at him like that?

The strange look on your face is laced with some sort of emotion that he’s never seen before. It's buried beneath the layers of organic makeup and skin. He can only assume it’s something similar to discomfort, and despite your intentional mask being well kept— he can see through anyone. He has the rare ability to understand the thickest of thieves, as he, himself, is the biggest phony of them all.

The sparse shadows soften your usually antagonized features in his mind, a more human appearance alleviating in its wake; and Rin swears he sees a tear drip from your right eye, swimming down your cheeks, and dropping off at your chin into the dewey land— becoming one with nature’s true beauty. The earth embraces your unexplained sadness with open arms, blowing the willow branches around your body. In a strange way, Rin thinks this is the first time he’s truly seen you as what you are. A princess. You’re beautiful beneath the moonlight, but perhaps it isn’t your physical beauty that’s catching his eye…but your emotional vulnerability.

“Dearest apologies, my liege.” you mutter, voice droning on with not a sliver of spite in your tone; only exhaustion. “I’m afraid that I’m not much of a proper princess, tonight. If you’d prefer it, I’d be more than welcome to leave you be— perhaps I’d regain some of my lost dignity in doing so.”

He studies you for a moment, his eyes grazing your posture, the physical habits you display on the daily are missing beneath the moon’s kisses. All that’s left in its disappearance is a small-spoken and sadness-consumed girl. A girl that’s tired and painstakingly sick of the expectations and predecessors that she’s been forced to live up to by birth…and as much as he hates to admit it, even just to himself, he’s found a similar identity in you. A familiarity he’s never quite noticed before.

“Stay.” His voice is so faint that even he is surprised at his statement.

“Perhaps we’ll both freeze to death.” he continues on, feigning the annoyance he typically spits in your direction. “I’d quite enjoy seeing your ghastly face covered in ice.”

While Rin believes his offering to be nothing out of the ordinary, your expression tells otherwise. It’s clear that you’re able to read through the misconceptions he’s trying to give you; looking straight into his eyes with an amused gleam and giggling softly in response. He’s never made a princess laugh before— usually the only girls he spends one-on-one time with are the tavern girls who wish to sleep with a prince— and he’d be a liar to say he didn’t like the sound. You have a beautiful laugh and Rin hangs onto every second it continues to carry through the wind. Perhaps he’s been misjudging you just as you misjudged him. Perhaps you’re not like the others.

“I’m sure you would, Rin.” you smile, sitting down next to him on the plush comfort of uncut grass. “But I have had such an awful day, that I don’t think there’s anything you can say to me that will make it worse.” An awful day?

“May I ask what happened?” Why does he suddenly care?

“Yes, you may.” Why do you want to tell him?

A sigh breathes out of your lips, whistling in the wind and getting lost in the space of stars. “I’m a lousy princess.”

He chuckles, shaking his head and nudging your shoulder. There’s no way that you, little miss prim and proper, are a bad princess. You’re practically the model that every father bases his daughter on when raising her in a royal setting; he knows because he’s met his fair share of truly lousy princesses. “No you’re not.”

“Yes I am.” you’re not looking at him anymore, rather at the constellation ceiling above you. The stars reflect themselves in your eyes, and if you weren’t a princess on earth, Rin would think you were a gift from the moon himself. “I could barely keep up with Prince Sae today. We had dance rehearsals for the wedding, and our instructor is so strict that I can barely breathe around her without being reprimanded. I couldn’t even memorize the basic steps, I don’t know what is wrong with me. I have practically been training for this duty for my entire life and I can’t remember a few dances? I’m not fit to be a queen. I just turned eighteen, I’ve barely lived at all. How can I protect an entire kingdom, when I cannot even fend for myself?”

“Prince Sae is perfect. He’s amazing. I can’t possibly be enough to be his wife. I can’t live up to those standards. It’s impossible.”

Suddenly, all of the broken pieces seem to come together. They’re swept by a broom, one that the moon king holds above the two of you, as your shattered stars of insecurities collide into one pile of stardust. Rin sees himself in you. He sees himself from a perspective that he’s never known before. Never in his life has he met someone who understands and agrees that royal duties are impossible; usually common folk and other royals tell him what an honor it is to be of a royal bloodline. They don’t care or consider his feelings on having to be held to a higher standard, while also being at a disadvantage as a bastard child. You are different. He knows you won’t judge him for these fears he has; a small part of him trusts you now.

“My brother is a golden boy.” Rin smiles at you, and it’s the first genuine smile he’s ever given someone. “Please do not take it too personally if you cannot live up to his excellence.”

You gaze at him in appreciation, scooting slightly closer while keeping a healthy balance that wouldn’t ensue romantic implications. “Thank you. I can’t even begin to imagine how difficult it must be for you, though. How do you handle all of this? I can barely keep my head above water.”

Wow…you’re the first person who’s ever asked how he feels.

“It’s difficult,” he explains, “but manageable. I’ve only ever known this life, so I’m quite used to being at the end of the line so-to-speak. My brother— I’m not sure why I even call him that, he’s not my brother, I’m sorry. My half-brother is the kingdom’s blessing. He’s my father’s blessing. He’s perfect like you said; but his destiny isn’t his own. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

Your head shakes in confusion, not quite understanding where his story is going.

“I’m sorry, I’ve never spoken of these feelings before; at least not out loud to someone other than my own mirror.” His human instinct shuffles himself closer to you, wanting that physical comfort whilst knowing that he can never have it. “I’m not unhappy that I am not the one to be emperor. I would rather be a bastard, because at least I have freedom to run away one day without worrying about feeding the masses and avoiding war. I can leave this kingdom and not have to think about my father or Sae ever again. That’s the one luxury I have always had— and it’s the one thing that I look forward to. I’m so sorry that you don’t have that same privilege.”

Nothing comes as a response and Rin feels a little concerned, that is until your soft voice reaches his ears.

“I’m sorry for being so difficult towards you.”

You’re apologizing?

“I don’t regret anything, though.”

That makes more sense.

Another laugh bubbles up from the pits of his soul, setting off the volcano of amusement that’s been dormant for so long. “You’re a tyrant princess, my kingdom should be more weary of you.”

You giggle beside him, “Tyrant princess sounds more fun than disciplined empress.”

Maybe he’s gone mad or maybe the chilling breeze has gotten to his brain and made him delusional, but Rin feels his heart pounding— and not in the familiar way of anger and aggression. This rapid heartbeat is something warmer…fonder…gentler. If he’s not mistaken, he believes it to be the warmth that comes with falling in love; something that he’s only read about and wished for when he does eventually run away from home. However, he never believed he’d find that feeling within the palace walls— especially with you, whom he despised prior to this night. He promised himself he’d never fall for another royal, but his destiny is shaping itself in ways that are unpredictable.

He should thank the man in the moon.

Rin stands, dusting off his pants, before offering you a hand. It’s an earnest gesture, one that you cannot ignore, and he’s vulnerable with his sincerity. “I can’t promise that I hold any skills near to my brother, but I swear on my soul that I won’t push you into that lake if you give me one dance.”

“Just one?” your tone is teasing, yet you accept his offer. The feeling of your hand in his sparks flickers of jealousy in Rin’s mind. Why is Sae the one who gets to hold you? It isn’t fair. “If you push me in that filthy water, I’ll give you a matching scar…”

“...right there.”

One of your fingers softly grazes his cheek, the spot underneath his right eye and flicks upwards, brushing against his thick eyelashes, before you lace your hands around his neck. You sway together, with the moonlight showering its stars down upon you, blessing you with well-wishes from the galaxy— and drift away from the worries of royalty and betrothals. Rin is miles from the anger that nestled itself inside of his heart, freezing it and shrinking it until he no longer knew what the emotion felt like. You’ve melted that ice. You’ve found a crack and broken the cycle of rage he’s so accustomed to…and he’s grateful.

For this is the first time he’s ever felt loved…

…if only you were his…

…but you aren’t.

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀thank you for reading! reblogs are greatly appreciated! ⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀will have a second part titled swan song in the future!

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rottenpumpkin13 · 3 days

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what if sephiroth had a child? maybe because hojo wanted to test if sephiroth's modified genes would pass on to the child. and what do you think would happen to the child after nibelheim?

Sephiroth's reaction to the revelation that he has involuntarily fathered a child is one of visceral rage. The sheer audacity of Hojo's brazen manipulation of his autonomy ignites a fury that is both immediate and uncontainable. This anger is not just for himself but also for his child that's now trapped in a lab, a mere specimen bred by Hojo for unspeakable purposes just as he once was. The thought of his child, his family, enduring the same remorseless torment he faced as a child is intolerable.

This moment rewires Sephiroth's brain entirely, causing all his previous convictions to crumble and for his priorities to shift. He makes a bold decision for the good of the small family unit he has now and leaves Shinra behind, fleeing with his child. Only Angeal and Genesis know where they are, and Sephiroth outright refuses their help.

Sephiroth is a dedicated parent and determined to offer his child a better life than the one Hojo gave him, despite him not having any experience with raising children. He does his research, has his moments where he's unsure if he's even capable of being a competent parent, but ultimately gives his child the unconditional love and support that he never had.

But the events surrounding Genesis and Angeal unfold whether Sephiroth is there or not. Genesis' degradation continues, leading him to desert, while Angeal meets his tragic end just as he would have. Sephiroth is no part of this, and while he mourns Angeal and wishes he could help Genesis, he focuses on his family.

Eventually Sephiroth decides to move to Nibelheim, because fate is persistent. He has no idea that this is the place he was born, nor did he know that he'd meet Zack once again during one if his missions. He hadn't even expected to see Genesis again, and feels guilty when he sees how the degradation has taken its toll on him.

Sephiroth would be more than willing to help, but Genesis' poor phrasing coupled with the way he drops a bomb on Sephiroth makes it so that Sephiroth never wants to see him again.

He drops his child off with Zack, finds the library, and the rest proceeds as it would, with the Nibelheim fire and Sephiroth's death. Except, years later when Zack breaks himself and Cloud out of Hojo's lab, he can't leave Sephiroth's kid behind, not with Hojo.

So Zack flees with Cloud and Sephiroth's child. Their escape is, regrettably, short-lived as Zack is ultimately killed. And now all Sephiroth's child has in this world is Cloud. Just the two of them.

Cloud stumbles into Midgar just as he would have if the fates had remained unchanged, except in this AU he has Sephiroth's kid clinging to his hand, placing all their trust in him.

Neither of them know that death rejected Sephiroth, who's watching them and intends to have his child back.

#ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth #final fantasy vii #crisis core #au

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beanibon · 1 year

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Mermaid!Knives x Reader Headcanons

Idk what this is I was watching a movie and thought "Hey imagine Mermaid!Knives breeding you underwater" like any sane person.

Also this is semi modern AU, so reader is brought in as a student marine biologist to observe Knives. Also cute Mer!Vash moments cause he loves his human caretakers unlike his brother.

TW: interspecies sex, slight drowning warning, creampie, breeding, belly bulging, impregnated reader, marking, knives being his usual bastard self

🚫Minors DNI🚫

You wouldn't expect the your first job fresh out of college to be observing creatures of myth, but the woman known as Professor Rem Saverem was just thrilled to have someone to share her love of these creatures with.

The first time you met Mer!Knives was when his brother Mer!Vash dragged him along to be introduced, the non-speaking mermaid eagerly signing their introductions while the colder more reserved one glared daggers at you. Rem reassured you he did that to everyone, but you couldn't help but find the colder Mer!Knives alluring.

The second time you met Mer!Knives was while you were on break, sitting with Rem at the edge of the observation pool. It was a small tradition she did as she explained the boys personalities to you, explaining that she practically raised them from hatchlings.

Mer!Knives had been dragged yet again by his younger twin, who failed at snatching Rems lunch. While this Happened Mer!Knives had gained more confidence of your presence after observing you and breached to lean against the steel stairs to boredly stare at you.

You had frozen in shock after knowing how temperamental he was, but after a while you broke off a piece of your lunch and offered it to him.

Mer!Knives giving you a look of disgust before snatching the food and diving back into water. Both Rem and Mer!Vash were shocked he even accepted the food as he despised the taste of human food.

Mer!Vash who knew just how interested Mer!Knives was in your sudden appearances, so he'd often get his brother to approve of shells before presenting them to you as gifts.

Mer!Knives would often stalk you while either in the water, or from the outside of the glass walls in the underwater laboratory. Watching everything you did with an intense interest.

Mer!Knives who had dragged you into the water from the observation pool, causing panic from Rem.

Mer!Knives who eagerly pawed and groped at your body as he studied your reactions and the way you desperately clung to him as you slowly lost oxygen.

Mer!Knives who grinned cruelly at the way you struggled as you couldn't breath, holding you firmly in his arms so you couldn't escape.

Mer!Knives who roughly threw you back against the cold metal of the observation pool, watching as you vomited mouthfuls of salt water.

Mer!Knives who was then lectured by Mer!Vash and Rem on his behaviour. Mer!Vash then trying to teach Mer!Knives how to court.

Mer!Knives who tried his brothers advice, despite thinking it stupid, only for you to panic at the sudden appearances of dead fish, eels and bloodied shark teeth.

Mer!Knives breaching the surface to show off his many scars, only to be shooed away by Rem.

Mer!Knives who gave up the courting and instead waited till you were alone before appearing and pinning you down.

Mer!Knives who hungrily tore your clothes off, teeth biting down as you felt something wet press against the small of your back.

Mer!Knives pounding into you ruthlessly from behind, growling as he placed a mating mark on your shoulder.

Mer!Knives that dragged you back into the water still tangled with you as he bred you harder, turning you to face him.

Mer!Knives watching as you lose air faster from your circumstance, blood swelling around you from his mark.

Mer!Knives smirking as he came several times in you, watching your stomach swell as he continued to fill you with his seed.

Mer!Knives that kissed you with such ferocity, breathing air back into your lungs so you would last longer.

Mer!Knives who once was done, would nuzzle into the crook of your neck, arms wrapped around your body as he nipped at your delicate skin.

Mer!Knives that stuffed his fingers inside you so none of his seed would escape, even as he returned you to the laboratory, watching you tiredly gasp for air.

Mer!Knives who would lay his head on your stomach, with a proud smile on his face as he replayed your bliss, fucked out face silently crying out his name in the water.

Mer!Knives watching from the distance as Rem studied the Mating mark with fascination.

Mer!Knives smirking as you returned to him, feeling your stomach flutter with lust. Begging him to stuff you full yet again.

Mer!Knives complying, knowing you'd always return to him to be fucked senseless and bred until your stomach swelled with his seed.

Mer!Knives who gave Rem a wicked grin as she told him and Mer!Vash of your sudden pregnancy.

#million knives x reader #millions knives x you #millions knives x reader #millions knives smut #trigun smut #trigun x reader #knives smut #knives millions #millions knives #trigun stampede #trigun #nai x reader #trigun merboys

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bluegekk0 · 2 months

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Thinking about possible transport options between different lands in the AU. Very tempting to design a Silt Strider like creature used as a means of travel. Although you know, there is this concept art.

Perhaps in a similar manner to Silt Striders from Morrowind, these gentle giants could be raised by caravaners for the purpose of travel and the shipment of goods. Their large size and long limbs would make them a very safe, though rather expensive form of travel across unwelcoming environments of the continent.

I picture them as one of the very few remaining species of giant creatures (not as large as the now extinct wyrms, though, they're far smaller than even the smallest of the ancient megafauna wyrms were once part of). They're very docile, they lack natural predators, and they're almost exclusively domesticated and bred for this specific purpose. I would definitely redesign these concept art creatures into something more suitable for carrying passengers and cargo on its back, but I think it's a very interesting idea that I want to explore.

I also just realized I probably need a better term differentiating the animals of the AU from the sapient bugs. So far I've called them creatures, critters or animals, but I think it would be easier with a single term. And I want to avoid using "bug" for them, since that's the term I use as their world's version of "people". I'd definitely appreciate suggestions!

---

It's definitely one of those worldbuilding things that stray very far from the canon, in which we don't even see the surface (if it's even possible to live there). But at this point, most of the AU is like that. I see it as a personal worldbuilding and character driven project with some of my favorites from a game I adore. Wouldn't want it any other way and it makes me so glad that people are interested in it, despite it being so different from the game ❤️

#gekko.txt #feral pk au #au worldbuilding

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felinefractious · 1 month

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I have a cat from a rescue. He doesn’t have a tail, but I know he’s not the breed manx. He was born with no tail, and his spine just kind of ends. What am I supposed to mark for his breed? I feel like the no tail part is important to communicate, so I’ve been saying manx and if there’s an option for 2 breed I also put domestic shorthair.

This is one of the very few situations where I’m not opposed to misrepresentation because it can potentially raise awareness to an issue.

If a tailless moggy has symptoms pertaining to their lack of tail and is labeled as a Manx despite being of no particular breed it makes people aware of the major issues caused by this trait.

You are aware of the issues associated with the manx gene in particular those without a tail, this gene is distributed throughout the random-bred populations so it is possible your cat has the manx gene despite not being of the Manx breed.

Your assessment that it’s important to communicate is correct, so I think it would be appropriate to list him as a Manx with Domestic Shorthair as a secondary breed if the option is available.

#anonymous #asks

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hazbingirliexoxo · 4 months

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“The Archer” Angel Dust Analysis

A/n: ALRIGHT YALL❣️ it’s been a hot minute (literally a whole month lol rip☠️) but I have FINALLY written this and am ready to share it with everyone!🤩 So I’m a huge Swiftie and I absolutely love Angel😭💕 so listening to this song: “The Archer” instantly made me think of him. I think the lyrics really highlight how his experiences with love have shaped the complexities of his true feelings and while we still have so much more to discover about his and Husk’s developing relationship in the show, I truly think that this song just “screams” them. If you haven’t listened to the song before, I definitely recommend to!😊 Anyway, lez get into it!😎

Note: For reference, I primarily used this article: https://gwtimes.org/1625/music-books-movies/the-archer-taylor-swift-lyric-analysis/ to organize all of my thoughts and opinions on why this song suits Angel so well. I think this author did an excellent job at explaining the real message of the song in regards to Taylor’s life, but this analysis is solely based on my OWN interpretation of how Angel’s character fits this song. Just wanted to clarify. THANK YOU AND ENJOY!!!❤️❤️❤️

Combat, I’m ready for combat

I say I don’t want that, but what if I do?

Cause cruelty wins in the movies

I’ve got a hundred thrown out speeches I almost said to you

Okay so, with these first few lines, we can think about how much Angel has been through, both in life and death. Like anyone else, he’s made mistakes and fought with many people he’s cared about before, whether that be with his birth family (ex: Arackniss, Molly) or his newfound family/friends he’s made at the hotel later on (ex: Charlie, Husk, Niffty, Sir Pentious, etc). But in terms of his actual familial background, Angel was born and raised in the mafia, meaning he’s used to seeing the indescribable horrors and violence associated with that lifestyle. He has no choice but to conjure up this metaphorical shield of “armor” in order to not only protect himself but also, survive. This ultimately makes it very difficult for Angel to form and develop good, healthy relationships, whether that’d be platonic or romantic, because as much as he craves genuine love and affection, isn’t that going against everything he’s known? To not care about what anyone thinks of him because at the end of the day, everyone leaves regardless? Angel Dust is a perfect example of being conditioned to this toxic, negative mindset he’s built for himself every day and we especially see more of this when it comes to his work with Valentino.

Now Angel is a celebrity, the most famous porn star in all of hell. Of course, due to his natural charisma and good looks, all eyes are drawn to him. He’s expected to essentially “put on a show” and show off what he’s “good for” because who could resist the seductive, charming Angel Dust? But that’s the cruel irony behind it all. Angel’s perception of his pornstar persona overshadows the reality of his true self, which makes it easy for him to push people away and not let anyone see the real him. He’s bred to allow people to chase after him, lust after him, because that’s the embodiment of who Angel Dust is, not who Anthony is. Angel Dust doesn’t care if people “leave” him because he knows that one way or another, there’s always someone else who will appreciate him for his “talents”, who will shower him with the desire and attention he so desperately seeks, despite it being superficial. But Anthony? No one knows who that is nor anyone would care to know who Anthony is in Angel’s mind, so rather than reveal his true thoughts, he decides to remain silent and keep them hidden from the public view as a way to protect himself.

Easy they come, easy they go

I jump from the train, I ride off alone

I never grew up, it’s getting so old

Help me hold on to you

Now, these second set of lyrics go a little more in-depth about Angel’s personal life and relationships. The first line expresses how easily he attracts people and yet still drives them away. The second one, however, can be explored through both a platonic and a romantic perspective. In a platonic lens, Angel struggles with making real, genuine friends (other than Cherri) because he’s afraid no one will be interested to get to know him. The same thing can be said in a romantic point of view. Angel loves to flirt, yes, but with his pornstar persona, he over-amplifies it and makes it seem like he’s “on board” in the beginning, but in the slightest sense of any seriousness or vulnerability, he “jumps off”, going his own way because he knows he’s unable to commit. This third line takes a look into how Angel is associated with being the “black sheep” of his family. Despite his somewhat childish nature, Angel’s always causing trouble and has never been the more focused, responsible type like his older brother: Arackniss. But due to these specific family dynamics, this shows how Angel feels like he’s never taken seriously with his true self. And because of that, he doesn’t understand how to grow and mature enough as a person to handle long-term relationships. The last line here can be portrayed as Angel’s inner thoughts and feelings towards his future love interest in the series: Husk. Angel is so used to giving up and running away from the idea of real love because of his own sexual abuse and trauma from Valentino. But throughout his whole afterlife, Husk is the only good man who respects and values Angel for who he truly is and despite how nice yet unfamiliar that feeling is, Angel’s terrified of losing it. Therefore, these lyrics can imply how he’s pleading for Husk to help him stay grounded and focus on exploring and pursuing this new relationship with him.

I’ve been the archer, I’ve been the prey

Who could ever leave me, darling? But who could stay?

In the chorus, we can start to see the lyrics become even more personified towards Angel’s life. He’s been hurt by so many people, yet he’s also his own worst enemy because he’s done the same thing to those who he cares about too, ultimately straining or damaging the relationships as a whole. He wonders why no one would want to stay in his life, but deep down, he knows that he doesn’t make it easy for people to love him either. So in order to change that, he needs to believe in himself and trust that he can make a positive effort towards becoming better.

Dark side, I search for your dark side

But what if I’m all right, right, right, right here?

And I cut off my nose just to spite my face

Then hate my reflection, for years and years

Within the next verse, we can connect back to how Angel’s toxic mindset has made a profound impact on himself and his relationships. There’s a big part of him that’s always subconsciously searching for the negative aspects of letting people into his life, and that in itself, is what overpowers his psyche into not recognizing and acknowledging the positive facets as well. These next few lines can be referenced to how he strives to maintain his pornstar persona. The whole concept of Angel Dust is for him to be as appealing and desirable to everyone no matter what because that’s what the public likes to see. But unfortunately, what Angel doesn’t comprehend is that he doesn’t need to overemphasize this “mask” of his because the real, genuine people in his life (such as Molly, Charlie, Cherri, Husk, etc.) love and accept him for who he is internally rather than externally. This lack of understanding can also drive him to act impulsive with his emotions and lash out towards the people he deeply cares about, thereby causing him to feel hatred towards himself and regret the decisions he’s made later on.

I wake in the night, I pace like a ghost

The room is on fire, invisible smoke

And all of my heroes die all alone

Help me hold on to you

The metaphorical meaning behind these next lyrics can connect to how empty and restless Angel feels when he’s by himself. We know that he suffers intense nightmares and drug hallucinations from Valentino, but in this next line: “The room is on fire, invisible smoke”, this allows us to dive deeper into his inner troubles and the emotional turmoil and chaos he’s experiencing from it. He’s known to “burn bridges” and “start fires” with others because like I stated previously, he believes everyone will leave him eventually, so as a result, he shuts people out as a way to cope with this depression and loneliness, knowing that it’s still his fault.

I’ve been the archer, I’ve been the prey

Screaming, who could ever leave me, darling? But who could stay?

Here we have the main chorus again, but what’s different is that the word “screaming” is used. This allows us to really see and feel the intensity behind Angel’s emotions. It can almost be viewed as if he’s “crying out for help” and begging for someone, ANYONE, to reach out and stay there with him.

Cause they see right through me

They see right through me

They see right through

Can you see right through me?

They see right through me (2x)

I see right through me (2x)

This next sequence of lyrics is pretty self-explanatory, especially regarding Angel’s famous reputation. Based upon his story arc so far, the internal struggles and hardships Angel has faced throughout life and death have definitely taken a toll on him. Even though he aims to portray this glamorous, charming pornstar personality, characters like Husk can see right through Angel pretty easily and have no issue in calling him out for how fake he’s being. This not only makes Angel very hyper-aware of his mask “slipping away”, but also adds on an extra layer of anxiety and panic he’s feeling from losing control of that facade.

All the king’s horses, all the king’s men

Couldn’t put me together again

‘Cause all of my enemies started out friends

Help me hold on to you

The first line here is a clear reference to the nursery rhyme, Humpty Dumpty, but the next few lines are what really emphasize Angel’s character even more. Angel is not an easy guy to get along with. He knows he can be an asshole and because of that, he’s made many enemies who could’ve potentially stayed as friends in his life if he didn’t push them away. But that doesn’t make him feel as if he’s alone right? After all, Angel Dust is fulfilled with receiving “love” from clients, fans, and Valentino all the time, so that has to mean something, right? This particular mindset is what fuels Angel to continue craving that form of infatuation and attention because it’s what he surrounds himself with every day. However, once that “high” dies down, who does he have waiting there for him at home? No one, because in reality, he IS alone and that terrifies him even more due to the fact that he’s the reason behind these self-destructive tendencies.

I’ve been the archer, I’ve been the prey

Who could ever leave me, darling? But who could stay?

(I see right through me, I see right through me)

Who could stay? (4x)

You could stay

Combat, I’m ready for combat

These final lines of the song play a significant role in how Angel’s perspective on love can change for the future. Like I’ve said prior, Angel has never had anyone show real, genuine interest in him before, that is, until he met Husk. Husk has made it very clear in the beginning that he doesn’t like putting up with anyone’s bullshit. While his gruff, no-nonsense exterior may be off-putting to others, Angel is very attracted to how real Husk is in expressing how he feels and that is exactly the kind of person Angel needs in his life right now. Over some time throughout the series so far, we start to see a closer relationship develop between the two as well, how fond and comfortable they are of each other. This scares Angel because like all of his other relationships and his current predicament with Valentino, he’s afraid that Husk will voluntarily leave or be taken away from him forever. So in order to avoid that, Angel is determined to do everything he can to keep Husk a permanent part of his life.

Overall, Angel is well aware that he’s not an easy person to love, but with Husk, he feels as if he could be the one to truly understand and accept him for who he is. That maybe, and hopefully, Husk will be the one to stay for good❤️

A/n: yalll,, this is soo fucking long I’m so sorry😭 but I absolutely love these two with all my heart, literally on my hands and knees like this 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️ but anywaysss I really hoped you enjoyed it just as much as I loved writing it🥰 PLEASE give me all the feedback you have! I would love to hear everyone’s thoughts and opinions, it would really make my day🥹 Thanks for reading loves!!🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin angel dust #hazbin husk #angel dust #angel dust x husk #huskerdust #hazbin valentino #hazbin alastor #hazbin charlie #hazbin vaggie #nifty hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #hazbin vox #hazbin sir pentious #hazbin cherri bomb

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 1 month

Text

Part 6

Pairing: Thranduil x Fem. Reader

Themes: Soft

Warnings: Mention of Elwing casting herself into the sea prior to the beginning of the story | Mentions of other character deaths prior to the beginning of the story

Wordcount : 3.1K words

Summary: Thranduil attends the feast held in honor of Angon taking Nitiel to wife.

Minors DNI

Masterlist

Thranduil’s POV

The feast Lord Thiliedir and Lady Annien held in honor of their son taking Nitiel to wife was a most splendid affair.

Guests came from all over Amon Lanc. They poured through wide open doors leading to a vast garden, dressed in their finest furs and silks. Gold and silver, rubies and emeralds, glittered around the throats and lips and ears and wrists of many. Newly forged circlets rested amidst dark, crimson, and silver-gold hair that had been combed into intricate braids. Some of the visitors bore the marks of beasts and leaves and flowers along their arms and along their cheeks. Heralds called out the names of each new visitor, and attendants walked amidst the invited elves, their hands heavy with gilded pitchers full of wine and trays full of delicate pastries. Thranduil stood by his father’s side, observing lords and ladies joining an ever-growing line of those wishing to offer their felicitations to the newly wedded pair.

“The marriage of Lord Angon and his lady has been well received.” Oropher nursed his chalice of wine, while minstrels kept to the grotto set aside for their use during the festivities. The music they played and the songs they sang drifted around the garden, barely heard over the chatter of elves and the clinking of glass. “I confess, I expected to hear and see quite the opposite when I was told the news.”

“Were you hoping to witness the tearing of hair and the gnashing of teeth?” Thranduil whispered. He sipped his wine and then smiled. “Lord Angon’s lady mother and lord father are too well bred for such theatrics. So are their kin. If they truly are unhappy with their son taking a servant to wife, then they have taken great care not to show it.”

“You are studying those who serve us,” said Oropher. “That is a good thing, my son. Continue it. It will serve you well should my crown pass on to you.”

Thranduil shivered. His lord father’s demise was not a matter he wished to consider. “It will not happen,” he replied, “for you will live on for more ages than you could care to count, and then we will both take a ship leaving for the Blessed Realm so that we can be reunited with my mother.”

“That is my hope also,” his father returned. “But so long as Belegûr’s servants remain abroad, we must prepare ourselves for the dark possibility of my perishing in this land. Do you understand me, my son?”

“Yes, father,” Thranduil told him, albeit reluctantly.

Oropher clapped him on the shoulder and said, “Enough of such talk. Come! Let us join the throng!”

The throng had grown in size by the time they joined them, and they had grown more carefree despite the late autumn chill. Golden lamps adorned the low-hanging branches of trees, their light limning all those who stood beneath them. Trestle tables had been arranged at the far end of the garden, with a raised dais facing them. Kitchen attendants were occupied slowly turning wooden spits and roasting wild boar and deer over a fire pit, basting the meat with honey and herbs until it crackled. The smell of freshly baked bread and pies wafted from the nearby kitchen. Even the tables themselves had large bowls placed in the center, all filled with wild berries, cheese, and olives brought in from Esgaroth. More wine was served, along with ale and mead. Thranduil joined his father while he spoke to the others, taking great care to listen to all that was being said and answering any question that was asked of him.

It was an aspect Thranduil had long prepared himself for: the tediousness of everyday duties. He had to attend council meetings even when he wished to do nothing more than lay in bed; he had to hear out supplicants that came to him, begging for a listening ear; and he had to speak to elven nobles he had no desire to speak to, all while having a warm smile or a look of deep concern on his face. All of this he did splendidly well, which pleased his father greatly.

“Now all you need is a bride who might one day make a fine queen,” Oropher said when they had a moment to themselves again. “Someone worthy of you, and of course, someone worthy of the crown that would rest amidst her hair.”

‘Tis the same song as always, Thranduil thought. He forced himself not to sigh. “I will wed when my own household is ready, father,” he said through gritted teeth, and he set his jaw in determination. “And I will decide for myself whom I should marry. Me, father, and no other. Any command for me to bind myself to a stranger in a marriage of political convenience will be answered with a swift and certain no.”

“I swear to Eru, my boy, you can be as stubborn as your beloved mother sometimes.” Oropher laughed. “And I understand the need to wait until your household is ready to receive a mistress. Pray tell me what is becoming of the halls our builders are making for you.”

They spoke at length while they made their way to the dais. Angon and Nitiel had already taken the seats of high honor, and the king and the crown prince took their places on either side of them. Then the mother and father of Angon, and the mother and father of Nitiel, took their seats accordingly.

Angon only waited a moment before rising, his cup in hand. “Let us drink!” He cried. “A toast, my friends! To Lady Nitiel! My wife and the companion of my life!”

The others rose and lifted their cups. “Lady Nitiel!” They shouted as one. Nitiel flushed, and she bowed her head as a gesture of thanks.

The first course was a dish of soup made of leeks and mushrooms, served in glazed green bowls. Lady Annien took the first spoonful to taste, and the others were served after she gave her approval.

Lady Nitiel looks so different now, Thranduil thought. The lady who once served in the kitchens was dressed in robes sewn especially for the feast, and with colors that matched those on her husband’s tunic. Green velvet slashed with cloth of gold adorned her person. New gold caught the light of nearby lamps as they lay around her throat and around her wrists. More gold gleamed where it lay in her auburn hair. It had been combed into elaborate plaits and then arranged in a style he did not recognize.

The gold and the robes must be gifts, no doubt, Thranduil thought, from her doting husband. The way her hair has been arranged, on the other hand…

“Forgive me,” he leaned in and said, “for asking this, but who arranged your hair?”

Nitiel leaned in as well and lowered her voice. She did not wish for the king to hear what she had to say. “Y/n, my lord,” she said. “She helped me dress, and then she arranged my hair for me. It is the style favored by those who dwelled in a city called Alqualondë, she said, but without the adornments of shells and pearls.”

Thranduil knew of Alqualondë, having heard the tales told by Lady Galadriel. “The style favored by the elves of Alqualondë?” he whispered, “and not the kind favored by her own people?”

“She thought the sight of it might anger the king.”

“Of course. It was wise of her to make such a choice. And it was thoughtful of her as well, to help you prepare for this feast.”

The next course was a dish of sage and potato tarts, and the course that came after that was a dish of roasted boar and venison with stewed carrots and potatoes that had been boiled to a mash and mixed with cream. Thranduil ate with great relish, and he ate in silence.

Y/n would have had to have learned the art of such arrangements from her mother, as she was born long after the first kinslaying. And it would have served her well during the years she spent wandering from one place to the next, perhaps even keeping her safe, as the few who served the sons of Fëanor and remained in the new land they had come to call home found little welcome wherever they went.

There is the grandson, he remembered. Why did y/n not go to Lord Celebrimbor?

It was a question he had asked when he first procured her freedom, and it was a question he thought of asking her himself, as those who held her could not give him an answer. Until the opportunity to do so presented itself, he would have to bide his time.

A minstrel plucked at the strings of a high harp while another sang, her voice as sweet and clear as a bell. It was nowhere as lovely as Tinúviel’s otherworldly voice, Thranduil thought, nor was it as bewitching as her lady mother’s. Still, it was enchanting to hear, and a tear came to his eye when he remembered Menegroth in all of its glory. He harkened back to the days of his youth, when nightingales would make their nests in little nooks and crannies that dotted the great city of many caves, where flowers of rare beauty would bloom to life during the spring, where Daeron played the harp and Tinúviel sang, and they were sheltered from the darkness that tainted the lands beyond their own. Then the sons of Fëanor came to reclaim what was taken from their father, they had said, and to seek justice for the slaying of their grandfather.

The sons of Fëanor came, Thranduil thought as he drained the last of his wine. The sons of Fëanor fought. And the sons of Fëanor perished. Thranduil set down his chalice when a dish of gammon pie was set before him. And the line of Melian and Thingol nearly ended because of them and that blasted Oath of theirs.

Grief and bitterness gathered around his heart like a swarm of angry bees. Thranduil still remembered King Dior and his queen, Lady Nimloth. He remembered their sons, twins who were all of three when their father came into his inheritance, and he remembered the dreadful winter that brought about an end to Dior’s reign, the tragic fate that befell his sons, his queen, and the great city of caves they all called home.

And then there was the daughter, the princess who was forced to abandon her own children as she was once forced to abandon her home, and cast herself into the sea after those who sought the Silmaril came for her. That too angered Thranduil—that swords were raised against those who fled the violence that fell upon their once-fair city. He remembered the dark words that were brought to them on a night with the moon and stars hidden behind thick clouds. Perhaps that was a sign, a portend of the dreadful message they were to receive. His father gave the order for their warriors to march, but by the time they reached the Havens, it was already too late.

At least Elwing's sons lived, he thought, and I pray word of their living lives of great renown reached her ears in the Blessed Realm.

He took the pie with both hands and bit into it. The meat melted in his mouth, as did the pastry that held it. And it tasted almost like ash against his tongue. Thoughts of the lives lost because of an Oath that could never be fulfilled tainted whatever joy the prince would have found in the food he ate. He waived away all further offers of refreshments, claiming that he was already full.

I need to step away for a moment, he told himself, and free myself from such dark and dismal thinking.

He rose and excused himself. “Pray allow me to take my leave of you all for a moment or two,” he said. “I will return soon enough.”

“Of course, my lord,” Lady Nitiel said. Thranduil bowed deeply and took his leave of them.

The air outside the manse was no less fragrant. This time, the smells that greeted him were of night-blooming flowers and not the scents of delectable dishes being brought to the table. He walked toward a nearby marble pond, listening to the little waterfall bubbling at the far end of it. There was no other elf to be seen. Most were at the feast. Others were keeping a watchful eye along the city’s high walls or tending to their duties in the palace itself, and there were those who had already retired for the night. Still, the absence of other elves was a welcomed thing, as was the cool wind that swept around his face and hair. Thranduil felt the anger and grief within him ebb away. He stopped and sat on the edge of the pond.

Tis good to have a moment to clear my head, he thought. Tiny fish darted beneath the leaves of water lilies and around his fingers as he trailed his hand through crystal-clear water, their scales glittering with silver and gold whenever they caught the light of nearby lamps. He heard the sound of leather against stone. Another elf was walking toward him; the sound he heard was the sound of their slippers falling over polished cobble. Thranduil sighed as his peace was disturbed. Then he heard a gasp. The elf who came upon him did not expect to find him there.

“Forgive me, my lord,” they said. “I… I was told this part of the city was empty at night.”

“The one who told you this did not err on that score.” The prince turned to face the one who approached the pond. “This part of the city is quiet at night. And there is no need to ask for forgiveness, y/n. You have the freedom to walk about Amon Lanc; there is no one to hinder you from doing so. Pray why are you here, at such an hour?”

“We were not needed in the kitchens.” Y/n dipped into a deep curtsy before rising again. “And the cook told me that I would not be needed on the morrow. I… I thought of seeing something of the city while the others were not about, my lord.”

“Yes,” Thranduil smiled. “Amon Lanc feels like a city found only in fairytales when one walks about it at night. I will not say more, lest I spoil the beauty of the city for you.” He paused and decided now would be an opportune time to speak to y/n about Celebrimbor and why she did not approach him for shelter. “But I do have a question to ask of you.”

“Go on, my lord,” said y/n.

“That day when I procured your freedom, I was told you spent your days wandering. You put down no roots, not even with Lord Curufin’s son, Lord Celebrimbor. Why is that, y/n?”

“Being the daughter of an attainted kinslayer made it hard for me to put down roots, my lord. And Lord Celebrimbor made it plain that anyone who served his father and his uncle would find no welcome in his home.”

“Is it because of what happened to Lord Finrod?”

“Yes, my lord. Lord Celebrimbor never forgave his father, nor his uncle, for that matter, for what became of Lord Finrod in the end.”

“And so you kept away from his realm,” Thranduil said. He patted the space beside him.

“Yes, my lord.” Y/n smoothed her skirts and sat a respectful distance away from him. Etiquette demanded it, for she was but a kitchen maid and he was the crown prince. “I did not have the stomach to bear the sight of another door closing on me, so I kept away.”

The crown prince tried to envision what such a life would have been like: walking from place to place without a proper home to claim for oneself, selling what little possessions one had to keep oneself alive, having no friends, no family, and no one to turn to for aid. He shivered.

Such a wretched life, he thought, and yet the lady is still here, enduring each hardship as best as she can.

Enduring such hardships without complaint was to be expected of the Noldor; it was something minstrels waxed poetic about in story and song. Thranduil studied y/n discreetly. Her hair had grown a fraction longer, and already she looked less gaunt than she did before. The robes she wore were blue and gray, simple but well-made. A tarnished pin was all she had for an adornment. Its painted flowers had faded, and they were the likes of which Thranduil had not seen before.

“The flowers on your pin,” he began, “are those found only in the Blessed Realm, yes?”

“Yes.” Y/n reached up and touched it. Her fingers trembled when they brushed against the filigreed silver. “My father had this made for me when I came of age. My mother painted the flowers you see in the center. This is all I have left of them.”

To have only one token left of one’s flesh and blood, and that too in a poor state, pricked at Thranduil. But it could still be saved, he thought. It could still be restored to its former glory.

Ah, but would the goldsmiths agree to such an undertaking when the request to do so came from one such as her? Thranduil knew they would turn her away the moment they saw her standing at the door of their forge. A respected courtier who carried the order of the crown prince, on the other hand…

“It must have great value to you.” Thranduil rose. He could not linger for much longer. The others would expect him to return to the feast without further delay. Nevertheless, he did not intend to leave until he spoke to y/n about what he had in mind. “And it can be returned to what it looked like when you first received it. Give it to Feren when you see him next. I will speak to him, and have him go to our goldsmiths. If there is anyone in Amon Lanc who could restore that pin to what it once was, it is them.”

“I…” Y/n paused and hesitated. She lowered her gaze, took a deep, steadying breath, and then she dared to look him in the eye. A decision had been made. “Thank you, my lord.”

Thranduil nodded. “And now you must excuse me. I must return to the feast before my father sends someone to search for me.”

“Of course, my lord.” Y/n rose also, and curtsied to him again. “Good night, my lord.”

“Good night, y/n,” Thranduil said. He looked back at her over his shoulder for a moment as he walked away. The sight of her beneath a spill of lamplight, her eyes sparkling as she turned to admire the fish in the pond, tugged at him in a way he could not describe.

tags: @deadlymistletoe @coopsgirl @lemonivall @tigereyesf @thranduilseyebrows @cupids-got-me @asianbutnotjapanese @kurochan3

#a better future #chapter six #thranduil x reader #thranduil x y/n #Tolkien OCs #x reader #reader insert

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soulofamy · 2 days

Note

for scenarios— ashrah and syzoth’s first kiss?

"Please hold still," Syzoth begged, concern evident in his facial expression. He held a warm, damp washcloth and brush it over her face, arms, anywhere on her skin that was stained with blood.

Ashrah sighed. "It's alright, truly," she tried to insist. "There is nothing to worry about. Let me do it."

Her quest for absolution led Ashrah down many dangerous paths. Today, her assistance had been called upon at the sighting of Netherrealm beasts wreaking havoc in Outworld. The task was simple enough, but it left her covered in blood when she reported back to the palace. Syzoth was quick to escort her into a private room and to get the necessary tools to tend to her wounds, despite her protests. She now sat on a table, her robes partially undone.

Syzoth's eyebrows knit and he lowered his hands to the table, to either side of her. "How can you expect me not to worry, knowing what sort of dangers you faced today?"

"Syzoth..." For a moment she fell silent as she thought of how best to put him at ease. It was a hard task to do when he stood with his face a mere few inches away from hers. Ashrah was a warrior born of the Netherrealm, with instincts bred for kombat and for fulfilling the role of a demon. How could she be expected to sit still when his touch alone brought a fluttering sensation to her stomach? He resumed cleaning the blood off her face and her eyes wandered to the side when she felt her face warm. On one hand, she had never felt so distracted in her life. On the other, she wished his touches and caresses would never cease.

"Syzoth..." she began again, beckoning his eyes back to hers. "...this is what my life is, and has always been. This is what I do, and how I will reach my goal. Please have faith that I know what I am doing."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I know...forgive me. I have never met a more skilled and admirable warrior than you. I know that you know how to take care of yourself." He pressed his lips together. "It is just...difficult for me to see you covered in blood, is all. But rest assured, I would never do or say anything to hinder you in your goal. You know that I will always be by your side, as long as you will have me."

Ashrah's heart skipped a beat, hearing his confession. Few had ever cared for Ashrah's aspirations or encouraged her to pursue them. And even fewer had ever felt the need to protect her or were concerned for her well being. One of her hands found its way to his cheek. He looked at her with curiosity, and an emerald tint grew on his face. Ashrah smiled. "For what it's worth, most of this blood isn't mine," she said, wanting to lighten the mood.

Her jest was enough to get Syzoth to shed his serious expression and replace it with a smile.

Ashrah was unsure how long she was lost in Syzoth's jade eyes. His hands had once again planted themselves on either side of her. His proximity to her caused her heart to thrum. She wanted him even closer.

"Syzoth," she murmured as she searched his face. "I have a request...but I fear it might be blunt of me to make."

His eyes softened and his head tilted into her hand. "Your wish is my command."

Ashrah paused. "Kiss me," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Syzoth raised his eyebrows, his eyes holding uncertainty before he leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to her lips. Ashrah's heart soared with surprise and exhileration. She melted into his touch as his hands moved to hold her waist.

She could still feel his breath on her lips after he separated from her. Her head spun and a smile formed on her face. "I look forward to the next time I return from battle."

#ironladders #asks answered #i literally suck eggs at writing kiss scenes LOL i hope you like this though #mortal kombat #mk1 #reptile #syzoth #ashrah #angelscales #ashzoth #zothrah #ashrep #ashtile

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oh-for-fic-sake-library · 2 years

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A Sires Bond chapter 1

Masterlist

Summary: When your hopes for the future are destroyed and your soul mate rejects you, you are exiled into the woods for your heat. But instead of finding the cabin you flee into the dark sires wood; where all fear to tread. You soon realise that the old tales and the silly childhood rhyme was more then just silly prattle. The dark sire was real. And he was listening

Warnings : A/B/O, Adult themes, Werewolves/shifters au, Dark magic,Fluff?, Angst, swearing

A/N: so here is the start of another au. This one combining a few different ideas i have cut out of other fics in the past. So its like a melting pot of 'that doesnt fit there' anyway i hope you enjoy 🥰😘

Images of them together crossed your mind as you staggered through the wood blinded by sorrow and grief. You ,oured the loss, your chest aching an invisible gaping wound as your mind replayed the scene pver and over. Him and her, their declaration of bonding and expectations of you to do your duty and povide for them what they cannot. To conceive and birth the next alpha but never raise it.

You sobbed, dry heaving into your hands as you fumbled through the thickets of the deep wood loosing your way in your temporary banishment. It was too much, you felt you would truley die, this pain was far to much to bare. You could bearly breath through it, yoh were only moving from the adrenaline of what had just transpired.

They were holding hands infront of the entire pack as the others cheered somewhat uncertainly, their eyes flickered to you. Forsaking an omega was rare, frowned upon even but not entirely unforgivable. Especially when its the soon to be alpha denying their mate.

Your maturity had finally come. And it came in the form of heat. Omega. It was daunting but not unexpected, you had all the signs of an omega, you were slight. Had a frail look to you. As if a harsh wind could carry you away. You suited your name. Willow. Unasuming and gentle. Dark hair, shy bookworm, wide pale eyes and very meek. Petite. Youd never consider yourself ugly. Well you didnt, not untill a few moments ago when your would be mate had tore yoh down so harshly, criticising you so cruely infront of everyone.

You always thought you had a unique look, oddly pleasing in a frail way. Lithe and slight like some type of pixie, yet refined beauty. Delicate is the word you used to describe yourself while gazing in to the mirror. You were delicate.

And then this happened. You matured and just like that you attained a the bond. At first you were happy. Ecstatic! You wanted to mate and be a mother. Ou did t even register your intended was the next alpha!

All you knew was you could npw create a nest and live your life as a mother. All omegas feel the pull but most do not untill they found their mate. However its something youd dreamt of. As a child and teen youd wanted your own pup. You helped watch over the younger ones as much as you could. Just enjoying spending time with the tiny pups as they toddled about. You were never happier then when you were surrounded by the packs newest editions reading stories and teaching them their letters and numbers.

Not that there were many. Despite being werewolves you couldnt produce more then one pup in your life. It stemmed from your creators. Its said your race was one never meant to be. The legend says that goddess luna had been bred with the great beast, the hound of hell himself. They had been inlove but the great beast had forced his pup into the luna. She had been terrified, the moon godess and hell hound? What beast would be the outcome? She panicked fretting day and night over the unborn worried over their fate. She almost lost the pregancy and for that the dhell hound cursed her.

This curse was one of true cruelty. The dark sire made it so luna will be barren after his seed had left her dead or alive. It was a curse to ensure she would be careful when carrying his precious child. To force its creation.

And even then he wasnt satisfied with her, he was soo angry that she had almost failed him and had tried to sway him from such hexes with her body. That he extenderd his curse onto all female decendants. It was barbaric to think about. Taking something like that away from the decendants. Punishing an entire race for her almost failing him?

Luckily in her fear for her child luna created a small reprieve. She created bonds, soul mates. She had been so frightened of the beast she would birth, of the life her child would endure she gifted them with a soul mate. Someone who would love them unconditionally and walk this world with them untill the end.

But even then the dark sire found a way to mar such beauty! His curse out manoeuvred the lunas gracious gift. Not only would a female ever have one chance at producing a pup. Now they could only conceive that one pup with their soul mate, managing to bind the two spells into one twisted gnarled curse that clu g to every generation of lycan.

Most treasure the life mate they are given, love and protect them. Defend them and create a family and nest together living in harmony. But it is a mans world, and even in the twenty first century some men see themselves above such things. Mikhail is one of those men. He found you to be lacking, he wants a model. One of the slim vapid and quite frankly stupid females. A blonde beta that was acustomed to the goings on in the bedroom.

And so he took her, destroying the soul bond you began to create in favour of giving another the bite. Your mate had found you lacking and bound himself to another. And the second your soulmate took another as his intended your dreams of a happy future crumbled.

You had heard about this but never witnessed it. And never thought this would happen to you. Dont get anything wrong. You were the soon to be alphas true mate, and he intended to use you for his heir. Yet he would raise it with that blonde tart. Youd be the nanny untill the pup was old enough to forsake you. And then youd live out your days alone and cold.

No. no! Your resolve made you argue. Finally you snapped out, called him cruel and dishonourable. To your shame you wept. Repeating what he had said to you that very morning. About how he promised to honour you as his soul mate. How he was eager to see your bond grow and he wanted to spend some time at the alters to give thanks to luna for gifting him his female so young.

Yet he laughed, he denied all of your acusations. Called you pathetic and delusional. And painted a much more pitiful picture. Claiming youd begged for him on all fours like a truley desperate bitch in heat. That he wanted to wait because he belived you were mistaken. That he was sure you were not his mate. And he wanted some time to cool off before speaking further about it because you were hysterical.

Youd been laughed out of the village. Youd gotten yourself so worked up at that point, acted to out of chatacter that the others had belived his lies. Yet still some seemed to belive you. Or perhaps it was pity. You been told at that point to go and stay in the house of reflection. A tiny cabin away from the village normally used for people being banished for a few weeks.

It had been when you were on your way youd strayed in you dispair. Only halting when you saw the dim, frightfull trail that disappeared into the forbidden sires wood. Your pack was said to be the oldest. That you lived on the ancestral motherland. That the dark sires power lingered within the wood itself and you should be wary, for anyone could unknowingly draw him out.

Your eyes focused on the lesser traveled paths, bearly visable to the naked eye. Was he here? Did he know what he had done? Could you plead with the dark sire? Make a bargin like you could with any other god or demon? Would he show mercy?

You contemplated these thoughts, toying with them as you wandered further into the sires wood. It wasnt like anyone would see you or reprimand you for veering off the path. No one in the pack would defy the alphas heir and seek you out in your shamefull banishment.you walked quietly, mind jumping from vengeful anger and cruel hopes and wishes all the way back to sobbing panicked anxiety with a mournfull depression seeping into your bones.

And then you stepped on uneven ground. The soft earth and crunch of gravel beneath your feet pulled you from your silent weeping. You blinked pawing your eyes and glanced around you. What the?

Your feet had carried you down a shallow bank to a small stream. The trees were thicker here, yet the small stream seemed open and peacfull. It was beautiful, the clear water trickling down towards the packs village gave a gentle calming feel, the sound almost lulling you.

You spun trying to see where you had come from only to pause. The shallow bank youd walked down was actually a swooping path, curling around a huge stone. Sigils were carved into the rock face. And achient looking brick arch decorated in old runes and scripture. To stone was smooth within the arch, chisled to perfection there was ivy and moss covering some of the structure but it was mostly clear.

You inched closer to the odd stone, it was pale with tiny flecks od crystal flickering in the lowmlight of the dying sun. You could almost mistake it for light granite with quartz ingrained into it, but no? There was something different about it. You stepped back tilting your head inspecting it. And then focused on the inscription. You laughed out loud seeing the chant you'd get scolded for singing as a child. The adults said it was bad luck and draw the dark sires attention.

But that what you hoped for right now wasnt it?

"I seek the sire of these bones. Cast your shadow on my home. Hear me now answer my plea, and my soul be yours eternally" The summoning rhyme felt strange on your tongue. It was silly really, the small hex like lymirick was something children uttered in the woods late on hallows eve to frightene one another. A foolish game played in the dark like bloody mary.

You blinked waiting halfheartedly before sighing. Suddenly feeling very stupid for uttering the silly spell. Of course it wouldnt work, the dark sire and luna were nonsense! Your kind were interbred, a shifter mating gone wrong!

"Now this is a nice surprise. Its not often im called by an omega. Tell me young one are you brave or stupid?" You screamed snapping your head up and quivered as the smooth stone seemed to have filled with smoke, a dark black mist curling its way within the stone, clearing slowly revealing what appeared to be a window peaking into a cavernous space. And then you saw a dark silhouette.

"Oh, oh god i? You... your real" you staggered back from the stonework stumbling over your own feet and fell over landing in the shallow stream that ran through the darkened glenn. A part of you didnt believe your eyes, you shook your head covering your eyes, rubbing them slightly before opening again.

It was when you looked back up to saw the feared sire of your kind. He was draped in black robes from another time. The black smothered him, wafting around his form as if guided by his own awe inspiring power. He was stunning, it was unsettling. The volatile ill tempered powerfull spitefull sire that cast curses and claimed revenge was never said to be this beautiful.

He sat tall, straight in his seat. Eyes the brightest blue you had ever seen. Like two sapphires gleaming in the dark. His face was stunning, carved by the gods to give you a false sense of security. He was clearly designed to entice and tempt you. And tempt you he did, the teasing smirk on his face told you he knew. He knew you were flushed, squirming under his gaze.

"Indeed little one, now dry your eyes and speak your piece, you have a plea do you not?" his smooth voice carried clearly, a slight echo from the chamber around him causing a shiver to climb up your spine.

"I... i am... i have a request..." you stuttered, slowly realising this may have been a mistake. Perhaps in your grief you shouldn't have been so rash and tempted fate. Because now you were face to face with the sire who as a child youd prayed did not exsist, he had cursed an entire race to spite the luna.

"Oo a request? I am intrigued, just what would a delicate ripe omega scenting her first heat wish to ask of the big bad hell hound? What is it you wish to ask of your races evil sire?" His glee made you falter, eyes flicking to him to the floor. You just? There was something frightful about him. You were glad you had fallen, becuase the quivering fear that wracked you would have made your knees weak and collapse anyway.

"I suppose i have? Well er... i came to ask you to... to lift your magic, and allow me to overcome your spell and have a pup with a choosen mate, not my intended" you fumbled over your words, stumbling and stuttering terrified to insult him but more terrified to remain silent and anger him. Not that youd planned to even meet him! I mean in your spite youd fantasised about it, calling the mihty sire to your aid and have him punish mikhail for you. But it wasnt really meant to happen, or even be a possibility.

He chuckled errily and you froze. A cold chill wrapped around you, you couldn't help feeling that youd just made a grave mistake.

"Oh my dear, you are a very deciving. To think such an innocent looking female would be so very naughty. That you would seek a child outside of your precious lunas gift? Tut tut" his voice dropped, lowering to such a tone you could hear the gravel from the ground digging into the words. You paled drawing panicked breaths, as he rose. His height seeming to grew beyond what was possible.

"Im almost tempted to make you barren for even asking me to aid you in such a betrayal." The words were a violent growl. He was offended. Surely you must know his own story. His own love betraying him so calously which insighted his rage and curse. Fear gripped at you as the sire raised a hand, a deep purple miasma began to coil around it, a serpentine length of magic coiling threateningly between his fingers, glowing brighter as the seconds passed. The purple became a haze, seeping into the air reflecting his face in the vallainous light.

"No, no its not that please- he said he wanted to wait. My mate he said for us to wait before bonding, that he was going to lunas alter to thank luna for granting him a mate abut then? He betrayed me! He ripped our mating bond apart by claiming another! Raced to her bed while i waited like a fool" You cried out crawling forward slightly remaining on the ground

He paused, his magic dimming. Fingers clenching slightly threatening to kill the magic. A single brow arched and his mouth drew into a frown. You took that as a sign to continue, to expalin and plead your case. You had been wronged, just as he had all those years ago. You hoped he would give you leniency and help you in your request. You slumped back down not caring that you were sitting in the shallow stream.

"H-he wanted a slim, tall athletic female. He likes blondes. Im not... he mated and gave her the bite. I felt it, it hurt, still aches. Then lied! The pack thinks im mad, he said i was delusional when i recited the promises he made." you held a hand to your heart absentmindedly rubbing trying to sooth the physical pain the loss caused.

"I dont care for him now. I cant but? But he had me cast out of the pack for my first heat for embarasing him. I yelled and swore at him." You uttered softly, tears welling in your eyes. You mourned. Grieved for all you had lost. A home, family, mate, a pup! A life you had always wanted. To be a mother and have your own nest to raise them in. You had longed for it, so much so youd come and seek out the forbidden sire and plead for help.

You paused for a moment before locking eyes with the sire who hovered ever closer to the almost frosted madic portal sealin him from you. He was inches from it, haveing prowled closer to hear your plea.

"He has left me alone. I... all i wanted was my own mate and pup. Now i will never... now i will be forced to birth him a pup only to have them stolen by his chosen mate once the pup has weane. And then i cannot have another to raise myself. I willnever have a child or mate or home. I am completely alone, and im begging you please, please sire if its in your power at all please grant me the ability to have a second chance. Another pup one of my own, with who i chose. A pup i may keep, please dont let my mediocre looks take what i have longed for" you whimpered, slowly drawing closer to the portal. Kneeling with your head bowed in respect understanding your precarious position, awaiting what ever he decided to do.

"Poor little one. Forsaken by your mate, your goddess and soon your pack? To think you will never be the mother you wished to be. That your form wont be used to its upmost potential." The breath hitched in your throat, heart stuttering in your chest as his words caressed your form, softly slipping over you. His eyes glazeing a bright orange only to return to the impeccable blue. The icey eyes lingered on your chest he smirked showing a single fang that seemed to elongate just to pin his own bottom lip to hos lower teeth, eyes squinting with a sultry mirth. He lapping his lower lip as if to sooth it from his own sharp fang.

"It is cruel is it not? The deciet and betrayal of one promised to you? Ruining your entire existence without a care, making there own plans for you. Useing you." Hisssing words entwined themselves into an almost soothing siren song. Pretty awful words thatheld a heavy meaning hung in the air like wisps of poison. Threatening to taint your very being.

"I know of that feeling, the bitter sorrow and painfull ache. The lonliness that eats away at your very being, blackening your heart until you are made a beast of your own burden" he paused, takeing a deeper breath tilting his head at you eyes twinkling with an odd appraisal of you. Then he blinked slow heaving a deep sigh and flicked his gaze the the edges of the portal that seperated the two off you.

"You are like me arent you little omega? Alone; Truly alone with absolutely no one to hold you close in the everlasting dakness. An unworthy mate abandoning you so callously creating nothing but a bleak empty future for you" He crouched, lowering himself bending his knees shifting his weight to his tip toes. He hesitantly pressed a palm to the frosted portals barrier just above your eyesight. You flinchted with a slight yelp, still awating some form of punish,ent for dareing to even seak him out. But he hushed you drewig your eyes back to him. His palm lied flat on the opaque surface. The portal glistened shimmering around his skin in uncomfortable crackles of glistening magic.

"Yes young one,I too am alone my sweet. Rejected by my own heart, i loved her so. Adored her from afar with a longing no mortal coild ever endure. I spent a millenina waiting, hoping praying for her to notice me." You inched closer and closer, becoming invested in his words. His legend was always spoken in hushed fearful words, yet you always wondered if there was more to the tale. It would seem there was, and he seemed willing to share the story.

The sire continued, a melancholy shrouding him a deep calming acceptance surrounded him. He looked wistfull, longing. Hurt. Your chest clenched, you knew these feelings. Though yours had not had the time to ease as his did. Yours were raw, like severed nerves stining and throbbing with each breath and beat of your broken heart. But still you listened intently, as if he may indeed have a remedy for your pain.

"And then she did, she accepted me. Laughed with me, we shared our hopes and dreams with one another. I bedded her and she turned on me when the dawn broke. She used me for her own carnal pleasure. It was a game in which i would always lose"

"She fled crying wolf, had me imprisoned after spouting her lies. And then threatened to rid herself of my seed. That is why your kind only birth one child" you gasped shaking your head as you realised he was speaking of your worshiped luna. Youd thought he had loved another before her.

"No that cant be... luna would never.." you voice trailed off, there was no way? She was good, kind, pure. She was your all mother, life bringer the one you thanked for each mateing and birth. Surely she had not twisted her tale to such a degree.

"Oh but she did. I merely ensured my childs survival by curseing her very own mother. I did nothing more then curse luna" the words held a sting, a bite that only truth could provide. You knew he was speaking the truth, revealing the lunas millenina long secret.

"Contrary to what you were taught or belive. I am not the one who limited your procreation, or any other females. Nor am i the reasonmyour life mate is the only possible partner. That was seen to by luna herself when she hastily threw her spell together forour daughter gehenna. She is terribly jealous, she made you suffer her own fate" The male shrugged before sneering. His lips curling with rage and disgust. He was sickened by the past, angered and hurt. The emotions made his eyes flare brightly once more but he didnt stop. Couldnt stop, like he finally had the chance to get this off his chest. Someone was finally willing to listen. But it didnt seem like he was trying to win you over, it was more like he was getting a release hexd craved. He was venting? You felt privileged, in a fascinated frightened kind of way.

The sire heaved a deep sigh, feeling lighter after relieving himself so thoroughly. But he managed to compose himself before you truley noticed how much he had needed that. Instead of leaving you to mull over the new rendition of the old tale he smiled weakly at you. Eyes now regarding you with a thoughtful look.

"So you see I understand your pain well child. Once we are cast aside we are said to be forever alone. Yet perhaps not? All is not lost. I could still intervene as you are untouchedby that filth luna so cruely paired you with" his words caught your attention. He could help? He could actually help you conquer your mate and pack? Free you?

"Not alone? I could? You can help me?" You asked desperation clawing at your words,with painfully raw pleading on the tip of your tongue. He spike before you could utter another word.

"Of course sweetling. You have sought me out. A kindered spirit, we have been wronged young one. A great injustice brought about by self-righteous fools that would mock us for our loving hearts, they would celebrate in our misery. Watch as we descend into the darkest depths of loathing and dispair" he grinned down at you and brought his hand to his chest dipping his head forward. You sniffled, pawing at your eyes wimpering trying to fend off the tears. But it was hard as his words resounded around you. Reiterating your fate making it a reality.

"Hush my dear, its okay. Would you like to know what ixd do for you? Yes? Oh my little darling I would see and end to that suffering before it has even truly began. It would be such a shame to let you go without the love of a pup. It would be a travesty for such a young gentle obedient omega to be denied that which she craves so desperately" you nodded with him, feeling your heart thinder in your chest. But the dread and fear coiling in your gut softened as he began cooing softly. Drawing you closer, tempting you.

"I can remove lunas selfish magic from you, allow you to be the exception to the rule. Twist the wretched restrictions thus turning the tide in your favour and gift you pups" he finally admitted offering you a empathetic look. Eyes sparkling with promise.

"You will? You can i didnt?! I wasnt sure; thank you! Thank you so much" you sobbed quietly, hanging your head crying into your hands softly as the relief washed over you.

"Ah ah, hold on a moment sweet girl. With everything there is a price, all magic has an exchange. Whats given must be taken from somewhere and there is a cost to this boon." He said quickly, tapping a finger against the portal drawing your eyes back up to him.

"Though your womb will ripen once more, it will be at the expense of your life mates own virility. Do you know what that would mean pet?" He asked gently

"Th-that Mikhail would become sterile?" You asked slowly wiping your nose and patting your eyes wanting to retain some sort of dignity and not wpbe seen as a completely pathetic child.

"Indeed. And one other thing my sweet girl. It must be me who gifts you the pups. Myself" you swore his fangs lengthened again at his admission. The sire sat still watchingnyou from his chamber, a predtory glint in his eye. Hunger of the flesh. You blinked up at him not understanding for a moment then it dawned on you.

"You? That means I'd? That we would have to?" You trailed off pointing between yourself and him. The penny dropped and you began to blush realising he meant to mate you himself. Oh god?! Sex with him? You couldnt!

"We would have to bond and mate. Just as you would have with your own mate had he not been so blind"

"But you said it was luna who made us fertile in our bond. I-if you give me fertility why would i need to?" You questioned becoming flustered. But you couldnt deny you werent entirely agaist the idea. He was a very handsome male. Godly even, beautiful and powerfull a prefect mate to protect you and you pup. He smiled shaking his head showing off his perfectly sculpted face, enjoying the way you drank in his form, this time imagening him naked.

"My sweet girl, i cannot completly remove a hex that has been bred in to you over generations. I am powerfull but even i have my limitations. I can tweak things, alter and twist the magic untill it is in your favour. I can grant you your pups, but only within a mating bond. This is the most i can offer you omega" his explanation rang out with a sense of finality putting his offer on the table so to speak.

"I? But i dont know how would we? I mean if we do... im here and your there.." you frowned still trying to figure out if he was toying with you. Afterall it was said he was a trickster. He could just be telling you what you want to hear, preying on your moment of weakness.

"Well you would have to free me my sweet female. Theres no other way around it. You have that ability, all omega do. You just need to ask. Just reach for me, let me bond you. Become my anchor in your realm and guide me through to you" he chuckled at you, half amused at you trying to poke holes in his deal and find loop holes, and half proud of his prospective omega. You were a quick thinking little thing with a good head on your shoulders

"F-free you? But... wont that be bad? You might hurt someone?" He paused, regarding you for a moment. So that was it. You were concerned he'd live up to his reputation and harm someone. It was sweet, in a sad kind of way. Your loving heart wanted to protect those around you even when they cut you so deep. He found his voice once more and began tomcrfully weave his web. He could see you giving him a future, the more he learned of you the more he needed you. You were his salvation he could taste it.

"On the contrary my sweet omega, it will be glorious. I will serve you faithfully. Not only love and cherish you but destroy all who would seek to harm my mate and children."

"You would be the mate of one of the ancient beings. All my power will be yours to command I assure you, I will reward you. Id sow my seed within you again and again untill we have our own litter. I would make us our very own safe haven, give you your own pack to rule"His silver tongue contined to work its magic, useing his words carefully making sure you knew exactly what he was offering. He'd give you a life tht others envied if only youd release him from his imprisonment.

"L-litter? More then one? You can... thats, no one ever" you uttered breathlessly. U able to think of such a thing. It was too much to hope for, but then again? It was magic. He was casting a spell, breaking a curse. So it could be possible, couldnt it?

Seeing you come around, thinking over his words and the possibilities he could make a reality he spoke once again. Building on what he had said. Painting a picture for you tempting you with a life no other omega had been blessed with.

"I will gift you your males virility, he can mate with humans over and ofer can he not? Leaving a trail of filthy half bloods? I would give you anything you asked for. I would create a family and pack just to spite our selfish life mates."

"Gift you as many pups as you like. I will see you birth twins, triplets! And i will do more then that. I will fight for you. Kill that pitiful alpha of yours and force your mate to watch as you; his denied omega become the envy of all females! bareing pup after pup.I will make you the luna, all will worship you. Even the goddess herself would watch your glory. Packs far and wide all bow to you. The single female who bore her own pack. The one beautiful omega capable of birthing sliblings" his rant became almost desperate. His eye glowing and blown wide. But even through to almost manic decleration you didnt feel threatened. No, only inspired. He was swaying you didnt seem to care. Maybe you were to lost in your own head to realise. Or maybe your pack had just crossed one line too many.

"I dont want to rule... i just want family. Pups and love" he chuckled once more, the honestly in your statment was adorable. It remided him that you were but a tiny wisp of a thing. Youd settle for a single child and tiny home. Yet he would give you the world should you free him.

"I will give that to you. I swear to you, i will cherish you as my saviour, my mate and my wife. I can make you a mother over and over. Imagine a small battalion of pups at our feet." You sighed, smiling. You could imagine that, an army of tiny feet running around you. Pudgy hands reaching for you calling out mama with happy smiling faces. You wanted that, longed for it!

"Imagine the look on your mates face when he sees you as pack luna. When he and his chosen harlot bow to you. When they spy you pregnant again, with a pup already on your hip. Imagine forcing that blonde cunt to tend to you. Watching longingly as you birth another and another while she remains bonded to a sterile 'prized' male. Imagine knowing our little secret~ that youve mated the sire of all sires. That your pups father is the most powerful of all. Imagine knowing that mate and his disrespectful whore will endure a fate they had so cruely tried to bestow upon you?" you drew a breath as the sire words grew harsh, menacing. Yet you didnt feel shame or fear. No. You felt a deep burning need.

Yes. Yes you wanted that to, not just a pup but you wanted something more. You wanted revenge. You wanted to taste a victory over the male who'd thrown you aside so quickly. Wanted to ruin him, make him pay the price. You wanted to force him to endure this painfull fear. You wanted to be in control. To taste power, to know what it felt like to be protected by a powerfull male. To birth heirs and have a bloodline. But most of all? You wanted to be vindicated. To prove yourself worthy when your pack decided you wasnt.

"I... is it bad that i want that? I want them to... to know, to get their just deserts" you uttered slowly trying to feel some guilt, or shame. Something! Anything!

"No. Its natural my girl. You want retribution, you crave for karma and fairness. And you crave justice so much you have sought out the one they fear. I commend you for it. Your bravery has touched me. I can say our bond will not be a loveless one. I dare say you'll spend a majorityof your time full of me one way or another" He grinned at you, cooing sweetly before praising you. He understood, and didnt judge. It made you relax it was as if you were asking permission. And he had granted it.

"So what do you say little one? Will you free me? Set me loose on those who have turned their back on you? Allow me to provide you with everything you are owed? Will you let me cater to your every whim for the rest of your mortal life?" The sore finally asked stareing at you in a kox of excitement and knowing. As if he already knew the answer youd give him, like he didnt need to ask properly.

"I shouldnt. They say you are silver tongued. A trickster that will twist words into fairytales to seek your own end. That you will destory our kind, run us into the ground" your voice quivered, eyes glossjng over once more as you tried to clrea your head once more. Surely you cant really be consideringnthis? It was maddness!

"Why would I destroy what i put on this earth? I created your race in lunas womb. I wont destroy it, i want to nourish it. To give it new strength. New life" he argued softly, bareing himself in the most intimate of ways. He may be coniving, hurt and so etimes bitterly cruel. But he did want to boost the race he helped sire. He never intended something born of his love to become so painfully unhappy. He sometimes regretted his first born and the suffering her creation had caused to so many. He couldnt take it back, but he could help if given the chance. This was his chance.

"You wont cast me aside?" You whispered to him, barely letting out a sound. Frightened he'd only toy with you and throw you aside. You were hurt and afraid of being used again.

"Absolutly not. I will make you a shinning beacon to all. You will remain by my side. I swear on gehennas memory. On the blood even." The conviction in his words sounded true. But you couldnt held doubt them. Mikhail had been convincing, whats to say you wouldnt fall for another males bluff once more?

"Look at me omega" you did. Snappingnyour gaze to the stern male. He looked frightfull, lips a thin line brows furrowed. Yet there was a softness to his eyes. Something sincere and almost pained, he looked hurt. Pleading almost? Like he just wanted someone to trust in him.

"I make an oath to you. Release me and you will not know loneliness, or pain or suffering again. Accept me as your mate, i will see to the rest" you sat still for a moment, debating the stories of this creature. He was said to be deceitful, to have lied and bedded the luna and curse her for daring to fall pregnant against his wishes.

But it would seem it was the luna who had been deceitful. She had lied, twisted the tale and she was to reason for the mating bonds restrictions. A mistake in a hasty spell within the blood fucking over generations of females.

You flicked your gaze to the male before you. His hand splayed on the barrier a hopeful look on his face. Without even pausing to think of the unforseen consequences you brought a hand to his. In that moment all you saw was a male willing to save you from a miserable loveless existence. A male who promised protection and something similar to love. And right now with your broken spirit he was the lesser of two evils. He was a chance to create your own future, and youll take it.

#henry cavill #cavillry #oh for fic sake fics #fic: the sires bond #werewofe au #shifter au #august walker x you #august walker x reader #august walker #hellhound!august #werewolf!august #alpha!august

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whenikissedthegiyuu · 1 year

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my duty

prince!rindou x princess!reader

not even a future king can earn the affections of a woman in love

i’ve been wanting to explore this idea i had back when i read the tr manga and fell in love with rin but i’ve been too mentally blocked (and busy) to write a full fic like i wanted, so a mini series of drabbles for whatever comes to my mind it is

word count 0.7k

fem!reader, first pov, mutual pining, forbidden love, implied past sex, talks of weddings, arranged marriage, no smut on this one sadly i’m still rusty, ran being a sweetheart, fully self indulgent

Wedding this, wedding that. White gown this, seating chart that. Making heirs this, ruling an entire country that. My mother just wouldn’t shut up, as if she was the damn bride.

I couldn’t help the exhausted sigh that escaped my lips as I barely listened to what she had to say about my wedding and my future home. At this point she honestly just spoke because she adored hearing the sound of her own voice.

A warm hand reached under the table, fingers slipping between mine as their owner squeezed gently. I glanced at the man sitting beside me as his lips curled into a small, genuine smile. His lavender eyes didn’t leave mine as he raised our hands and left a kiss on my knuckles.

Well, at least I had him on my side.

“Look at them, they’re so adorable!” My mother exclaimed, clutching at her chest. “And to think they couldn’t stand each other when they first met. Truly a match made in heaven.”

Yeah, we hated each other’s guts because we couldn’t escape the future that had been planned for us since before we even knew how to walk. He was the crown prince and I had been bred ever since I could remember to be his wife. We eventually realized we had to at least pretend to be an united front so we’ve grown fond of each other, like the childhood friends that we are instead of the lovers we’re supposed to be.

No, my love was reserved for someone else.

Despite being a princess myself and my father’s only child, I would never be able to rule my country myself because I was a woman. Perhaps a small, childish part of me blamed Ran even if he’s not the one sending me off to foreign lands like they cannot wait to get rid of me already.

My cousin instead was to be crowned King the day my father was no longer in this world. The thought always left a bitter taste in my mouth.

Ran smiled politely at my mother, then turned toward my father at the head of the table. “I’m blessed to be able to spend the rest of my life with a woman such as your daughter, Your Majesty. I couldn’t ask for a better Queen for my people.” A half lie I found my cheeks getting warm at.

His fake smile dropped as soon as my parents turned their attention to one of my aunts- hell, I didn’t even know from which side of the family she was, but I was glad to have the spotlight off me again. Ran’s hand remained on mine for a moment longer before he picked his fork up and continued eating.

I felt a pair of eyes burning into the side of my face as I took my wine and gulped it down in one swig, then switched my empty drink with Ran’s so I wouldn’t seem like a drunk if my mother noticed the empty cup and the maids continuously refilling it. I needed all the alcohol I could have to stand my mother’s hypocrisy with our extended family.

My body betrayed me as I turned toward the man that had been staring at me the entire evening. His eyes, the same eyes of my fiancé but looking at me with much more love than Ran ever has, ever will. Those damned eyes that stared right back at me with so much intensity that I was forced to once again look away and distract myself with my mostly empty plate.

The same eyes that rolled into the back of his head the night prior as my name left his lips in soft pants.

I pressed my thighs together at the memory of his body between them. I blindly reached for Ran’s hand again and pulled it to my lap, his fingers intertwined with mine once again and this time he didn’t pull away, understanding that I needed the comfort at the moment.

Ran leaned toward me and pressed his lips to my temple. “We can excuse ourselves in the guise of wanting some alone time, if you’re too overwhelmed.” He murmured just loud enough for me to hear.

“I’m fine,” I whispered, leaning into his touch.

My eyes fell on Rindou again, only that this time he was staring at his brother with lips curled downwards. His knuckles were nearly white from how hard he was clenching his fists. My heart clenched when he glanced at me for no more than a second before he turned his back to me and engaged in conversation with my aunts and uncles.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers fic #tokyo revengers x reader #haitani rindou x reader #rindou x reader #rindou smut #haitani rindou imagines #haitani brothers #haitani x reader #haitani smut #haitani rindou smut #tokyo revengers imagines #prince!rindou au #royal au #tokyo rev

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hazelnut-u-out · 2 months

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If God Exists, It's Fucking Me!

(Post 2/2)

A lot of this is a follow-up to Post 1, but I broke it up because I'm rambly.

Sidenote: I didn't realize how much Rick and Morty tries to confront the viewer with the question of what makes a god a god. Take from that what you will, lol.

Having a god complex is an essential component of Rick’s character. He can’t pull his sense of identity away from his relationship to God.

'If God exists, it's fucking me!'

Even though someone may no longer believe in their god, they were still raised or programmed to serve them before they serve themselves. It becomes instinct.

I would imagine a god-like intellect could blur the line between one’s own needs and those of their god even more. For example, if Rick can value himself above God, then who’s to say he can’t do all of the things God has done for his own purpose? If Rick can prove that he exists and not that God exists, then what morally stands in Rick’s way? This is what makes Rick a good representation of what religious trauma can look like in someone exceptional. Working on the basis of this assumption, his god complex would arguably be inevitable.

The final layer of tragedy is that C-137 isn’t all-powerful, is he? There’s one Rick that took something from him he can’t replace; one Rick– someone he can prove exists– is more powerful than him. How can C-137 argue that Prime isn’t in the right while still following the logic that his own power is what gives himself the right to ‘invent, transform, create, and destroy for a living’? Without being able to condemn Prime’s actions, what can C-137 do other than try to become him?

'You think it's cool being the smartest man on Earth, but once we give you this technology, you become the smartest thing in every conceivable universe -- the Infinite Rick, a god.'

All of this relates back to a take I have on Evil Morty’s character. I believe he’s a lot like C-137 in that way, but his god; the being he was ‘programmed’ to serve; the creator he had to ‘defy’ was… Rick.

Because Rick made himself a God.

Even though Evil Morty and Morty Prime don’t seem to have faith in Rick, they were still bred to serve him. Evil Morty justifies his behavior because it’s nothing Rick hasn’t done. If Ricks justify their behavior through their abilities, then there can’t be anything wrong with being Evil Morty… Can there?

Morty Prime, on the other hand, still serves Rick even though he doesn’t believe in him anymore.

‘That's something you can't have when Rick shows up. Everything real turns fake. Everything right is wrong. All you know is that you know nothing and he knows everything. And, well -- well, he's not a villain, Summer, but he shouldn't be your hero. He's more like a demon or a super fucked up god.’

Morty Prime, despite believing in Rick’s power, also believes in a set of moral rights and wrongs that’s unadulterated from those demonstrated by Rick. Evil Morty operates within the set of moral rights and wrongs defined by Ricks on the curve. In my opinion, our Morty shows more potential to end the cycle than any Rick or even Evil Morty.

Evil Morty didn’t break the cycle (though I 100% believe him breaking out of the curve was symbolic of that concept), he’s perpetuating it. He didn’t do what he did in the name of justice, he did it for himself and justified his actions with his ability. In the same way that Ricks had to create the curve to become a god, Evil Morty had to leave it. To become exceptional, Rick had to reject God’s exceptionality. Similarly, Evil Morty had to reject Rick’s.

There are some important distinctions I want to point out that differentiate Evil Morty and Morty Prime on a fundamental level.

- Selfish vs Selfless:

We can see a difference in the priorities of both Morty Prime and Evil Morty as early on as Season 1.

‘Hey man, you seem to know how this place works. Is there any way we can… shut down that grid and rescue all those Mortys outside?’

‘It would be pointless. Mortys have no chance of defeating a Rick.’

I would just like to point out that no Rick put those Mortys on that wall. No Rick designed that 'symphony.'

But a Morty sure as hell made this one!

‘Alright Mortys, listen up! My name is Morty Smith, from Earth dimension C-137! I know you’re scared, because I’m scared! But that’s no reason to accept our fate. We’re Mortys! We’re not defined by our relationships to Rick. Our destiny is our own!’

Morty Prime proves that it is possible for Mortys to band together to take down Ricks. Evil Morty’s plan didn’t have to be at the price of hundreds-of-thousands to millions of Mortys’ lives. Evil Morty was prioritizing himself, justifying his treatment of other Mortys through his power to extort them.

As a follow-up to this concept, Morty Prime tries to save as many Mortys as they can while Evil Morty finally escapes the curve.

- Rick Complex:

Evil Morty, right from the start, believes that his abilities are an exception. (One could call it a Rick Complex, in this case, lol.) I believe that it’s actually his confidence, not his ability, that differentiates him from other Mortys.

Morty Prime, on the other hand, believes that Mortys are not defined by their relationships to Rick. Just like Rick is obsessed with being defined by his relationship to God, Evil Morty is obsessed with his identity as it’s defined by his relationship to Rick. He has to be better than Rick. Morty Prime seems more than happy to be the ‘Mortyest Morty,’ but let’s remember who’s the Rickest Morty.

‘Because Ricks hate themselves the most. And our Rick is the most himself.’

I guess that means the Rickest Morty would hate himself, too, which checks out. Evil Morty, very intentionally, leaves no surviving Mortys on the Citadel. When Evil Morty is confronted with the result of abuse on another Morty, he never stops at hating Ricks. Instead, he opts for, ‘Pfft, you sell-out Mortys kill me. I'd hate you more than the Ricks you worship if there was any point.’

In conclusion of this pretty pointless blurb, I think Morty Prime is closer than anyone else to escaping the cycle, and I’m so proud of him. I hope it’s not too little too late.

#rick and morty #rick sanchez #morty smith #evil morty #morty prime #rick prime

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thekingofwinterblog · 10 months

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Oghren Branka - A Broken Dwarf

Out of all of the original Dragon Age Origins companions, I've always found Oghren to be the most fascinating one in how rare it is to see someone actually do a full breakdown of the alcoholic, berserker dwarf, despite arguably having the most interesting and deep under the surface aspects to his character.

So i'll rectify that here, by doing a full delve into Ogren as a character, and the rather tragic tale of the last member of house Branka.

Oghren was a member of Orzammar's warrior caste, bred, born, and raised to be a warrior, a role that by all accounts he excelled at.

Oghren is famous for being probably the biggest alcoholic in the franchise, but according to lore, this actually wasn't a part of his personality before way later down the line, and came about due to a spiral downwards.

Oghren, like all warrior caste dwarves was raised to be an absolute killing machine, who's life was going to be devoted to killing darkspawn, and killing more darkspawn, and then killing more darkspawn.

This part of his life, Oghren excelled at. He was great at killing his enemies from day one, and won fame and glory.

Unfortunately, the thing that defined Oghren as a person, was the very brutal struggle, of, and Bioware's take on how hard it is for soldiers to reintegratd into societies after their states does everything they can to make them into tools for killing.

And in Oghren's case, this began with his family.

When young, Oghren was interested in a young woman named Felsi.

The two hit it off quite well, only for Oghren to be forced into a political marriage with a certain woman named Branka from the smithing caste, a political match that was seen as mutually beneficial at the time.

This marriage was the single worst thing that ever happened to Oghren and everyone he had ever cared about.

Branka would in very short time rise to become a Paragon, the only one in living memory, a living ancestor in Dwarven Society, making her the most powerful and influential woman in Orzammar, but that part is not the one I want to focus on.

Instead I want to focus on Oghren and Branca's relationship, and how it quickly fell apart.

Their relationship started okay, and in the first year there doesn't seem to have been that many problems. Things would change however.

Branca, as we learn from Oghren's talk had plenty of serious mental issues, like massive and spontaneous mood swings, and a tendency for sudden violence for the smallest offenses.

The innitial target of which seems to have been her her husband Oghren.

Oghren makes no secret of the fact that Branca was pretty violent with him, in particular the fact that she seriously damaged the hearing on one of his ears, and once attacked him for misplacing her tongs.

Also, there is a bit of subtleness to Oghren's design that adds to how bad this relationship became for him.

Oghren has a permanent injury around one of his eyes, which makes it look like he's always squinting. The most likely culprint being his wife hitting him with something heavy and blunt, which never healed properly, giving him his iconic squinty eyed look.

We don't have anything to suggest Oghren ever actually defending himself physically from his wife, but if his own testimony is to be believed, their usual way of making up after one of these outbursts was makeup sex, which suggest that there was a rather sad cycle of spousal abuse, regret, then make up in the form of sex, then another bout of abuse, then rinse and repeat.

The usual cycle really.

Things got more complicated however, once Branka became a paragon, putting her firmly above her husband in rank as far as she could go.

And it's here that Oghren's life really began to take a turn for the worst, and where the drunkard who drowns himself in alchohol to try and forget how shitty his life is really began.

In very short succession, Branka, likely due to the mounting pressure upon her after becoming paragon, turned far worse towards Oghren, and their marriage began to rapidly crumble. But her becoming paragon had other consequences as well, the most obvious being that Branka became the head of the household, and absorbed Oghren's entire family into the new house of Branca under her.

Branka then began to shun Oghren completely, making her disdain for him open for all to see, while also cuckolding him with his own cousin Hespith(though Oghren wouldn't learn about that until years later).

This in turn, made Oghren's entire family follow suit, and he was quickly completely isolated and shut off from his own family, the same family that forced him into this marriage in the first place.

Oghren had already begun drinking to try and cope with his failing marriage at this point, and the way his entire family turned their back on him to please Branka just kicked that dependence off the deep end.

Then Branka committed herself to her great folly, and over Oghren's objections, took their entire family with them on her mad quest into the deep roads for a magical anvil... While forcing Oghren to stay behind so she could get to fuck her lover hespith on the side as she pleased without him around.

Needless to say, though Oghren didn't completely understand the full reasons for why everyone considered him a laughingstock at this point(the relationahip with Hespith was an open secret in Orzammar) , he kore than felt the effects of being alone, forgotten and abandoned by his family in a city that ridiculed him while still demanding he go out and kill darkspawn for them.

It was at this point that the Oghren we all know really began, as Oghren drowned himself in booze, embraced terrible jokes, and became the man with the most inappropriate pick up lines there is, desperate for anyone to give him any affection at all.

It was at this point Oghren for the first time cheated on his declared dead wife, seeking out Felsi. The renewed relationship did not last long. Oghren's downward spiral had already completely changed his personality, and she quickly left him.

At this point, Oghren really was at his lowest. Abandoned by everyone he had ever loved, alone, only having booze for comfort, and still having to regularly go out and fight darkspawn.

It's also here we see some of Oghren's hidden noble side, as at one single point he refused to buckle on, and that was his wife's fate.

Oghren refused(correctly) to assume Branka was dead and would pester the government time, and time, and time again to send out a rescue party to find her and bring her home.

Nobody took him seriously, and instead treated him like a joke... All the way until a young noble mocked Branka in his hearing and made it plain for all to hear that Branka could not possibly have survived that long in the deep roads.

The end result was that Oghren, in a drunk rage challenged the young man to a duel, then killed him, when it was supposed to be a duel to first blood.

Oghren thus changed from drunk pest, to dangerous pest.

In the end he was stripped of his house and the right to bear arms or fight in the city ever again, but was still demanded he fought darkspawn when the time came.

Oghren talks about this in his conversations with the Warden, how the city would turn their warriors into killing machines, strip them of all rules, morals and thoughts except kill and kill, and kill some more... Then put them right back into society, and bind them, and the rage they spent so long training you harness with rules and regulations. Add this with the fact that they will still demand you go out an fight at a moment's notice, it's not hard to see how warriors like Oghren came to be.

It's at this point Oghren has hit seeming rock bottom.

Alone, a joke in a city that will alternate between mocking, and spit on him, no right to defend himself, while still having to go go out and risk life and limb for it.

The only thing that keeps him going at this point, is the desperate hope that Branka and his family might still be alive.

Which brings us to the one soul who might bring him out of his stupor, depending on player choices.

The Hero of Ferelden.

The Hero of Ferelden scoffs at the claims Branka is dead and delves into the deep roads, and takes Oghren along for the ride, looking for her.

It's here that Oghren begins to form some sort of personal bonds again, where he will find the one person who is willing to put up with him, and all his flaws and possibly see him as a friend.

As the team heads into the deep roads however, they discover the horrible truth.

Branka, in her madness and desperate search for the anvil, sacrificed Oghren's entire family to the darkspawn, intentionally creating broodmothers so she'd have a never ending supply of darkspawn pawns to throw at the anvil defences.

It's not really given the full focus it deserves, because Oghren isn't the kind of person who just lets out absolutely everything, but this moment, this revelation destroys Oghren.

It's the moment where he pretty much just gives up on life, and only follows the Warden around to find a place to die.

In the end, regardless of what you do, his relationship with Branka is over at this point, wheter you save or spare her, leaving him with the knowledge that his entire family is dead and gone, and he's the last one.

At this point he becomes what is seemingly nothing more than comic relief, and due to the unfortunate way Orzammar is struxtured, its usually done last before the landsmeet, meanjng most players won't see most of the deeper parts of Oghren, as they require some prodding to see.

Most notably of these is what happens if you bring him to the guardian at the temple, where the old man wants everyone to relay their sins and regrets, only for Oghren to cut him off when his time comes, and say this:

Why don’t I save you some time? Yes, I wish I could have saved my family from Branka. I wish I’d been a better mate. Maybe she’d have stayed at home with a belly full of baby Oghren and never gone for the anvil. Maybe I failed her. Yes, I came to the surface because I’m barely a dwarf anymore. My family is dead. My honor as a warrior is long gone. I’ve lost my caste and my house and I have nothing else to lose.

This display is really, really sad for a number of reasons, not only because of how far down Oghren has fallen at this point, but also because frankly speaking, Oghren did nothing wrong with Branka. He was the victim here, and yet despite that, he still lays all the blame on himself. It was his fault his family died. It was his fault for being a shitty husband. Not Branka's. His.

Beyond this, Oghren has other interesting observations that shows he is quite a bit more impressive than the sorry, alcoholic cassanova wannabe that he acts as.

He's the only character who figures out that Shale actually remembers killing her master, and that she regrets killing him, as rather than a conscious choice, it was a moment of her completely losing control, just like he did in the proving match so long ago.

He also proves himself a bizarrely good brewmaster, impressing Wynne and the warden withouth the proper facilities to make proper alchohol, and he's the only one who offers any plausible counter explanation for the powers of the temple of sacred ashes other than the power of god(which may or may not be on the money.).

He is also learned in history, and knows the andrastian religion and it's historical players very well for a dwarf, even seemingly having a personal disdain for Hessarionz who he calls a pompous prat.

At this point, where he goes from there is up to the PC's choices, but regardless, there is a lot more to Oghren than meets the eye, far more than the stupidly stereotypical dnd dwarf he presents himself as, in a setting where the dwarves are not all the same as Tolkien's.

#dragon age #dragon age origins #oghren #branka #meta

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