#and how he calls him Dain even

[reginrokkr]

→ Study 𝐗𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈: Opposing sentient forces of death and life —Abyss and Irminsul—. The Sinner, Caribert and the Loom of Fate at fate's end.

The recent Caribert AQ offered us a new —albeit expected if joining the scattered pieces of old and new lore alike— view about what the Abyss exactly is, represents and the way it affects other beings in more detail now that we were introduced for the first time to a sentient entity of the Abyss, albeit lacking a physical form. Before anything, let's have a brief reminder of what its energy supposed from the very beginning up to this point:

1) it can warp the perception of those affected by it (see Dvalin as an example)— this point will be touched briefly. 2) it can drive escapee gods from the rule of the Seven to madness in the Dark Sea. 3) it consumes everything that contains the seven elements. 4) it’s the potential reason of why some humans become Abyss Mages / Lectors / Heralds / Husks / Black Serpent Knights. 5) it makes people ill to the point of reaching death if left unchecked and in a similar vein to the escapee gods, it can drive them to madness. 6) it’s the source of energy that Khaenri’ah has been using to power the ruin machines up.

Sumeru's additions under the name of Marana confirm some of these and dive deeper in details about these, as per the Aranara's wisdom:

1) Marana urges everything towards death. The realization that all things meet their end makes the Marana fester further to the point that it becomes part of the memories. Said memories go as far as to engrave themselves in the Ley Lines, and into Irminsul by extension.

2) The essence of memories is one of the things that can defeat Marana, but at the same time Marana not only can make others forget. It enters the consciousness and dreams too. Furthermore, this contributes to the Black Serpent Knights and Husks’ loss of intelligence and memories as an independent element to the curse.

3) Ruin Machines are powered by Marana and it’s said that Abyss Wolves and Marana are one and the same. They are not natural. They do not belong to the cycle of heaven or earth.

And lastly but not least, the origin of this poisonous energy as told by Nabu Malikata (Goddess of Flowers, initially a dweller of the kingdom of the sky before the Second Who Came arrived):

But, in time, invaders descended from beyond the firmament, bringing with them destruction, overturning rivers, spreading plagues… And though the invaders brought war to my former kin, they also brought about illusions that could break through shackles to the land. But the master of the heavens, consumed by fear for the rising tide of delusion and breakthroughs, sent down the divine nails to mend the land, laying waste to the mortal realm… We then suffered the torment of exile. Stripped was our connection to heaven, to our powers of enlightenment…

All of this information is a lead towards how destructive what we know as Abyss can be and how nothing good can ever come from it, however, this AQ showed us a side never seen before that could come across even as miraculous, which is in being able to change fate of two individuals thus far: Caribert first and then Clothar. However, can we truly talk about a miracle when it seems that this change of fate doesn't come without a price? Is it truly the "Abyss" able of change fate, or is it the sentience of a still mysterious identity merged with the Abyss that is able to change the course of someone's fate?

In this description of the Caribert AQ, there is a count of 4 groups of people / individuals that it's referring to: Those who would oppose fate (Khaenri'ahns), the one who understands fate (the Sinner) [in Chinese, 'the one who understands fate' appears in an earlier appearance translated in English as 'a self-proclaimed prophet' also— as for what he says, it's the official announcement of Dainsleif which suggests that Dain not only may have suspicions of whose identity this is, but that he must've heard the Sinner's voice too], the one who weaves fate (Caribert) and lastly, the one who witnesses fate (Traveler). Looking in retrospective, it makes sense that Clothar refers to his son as the "Loom of Fate" if he's the one who was made to weave fate. As the title suggests, loom of fate is a tool to weave threads of fate and this is a topic that has been addressed before in the Travail trailer:

Your journey has reached its end, but one final doorway remains. Step forth, if you have understood the meaning of your journey. Defeat me, command me to step aside, show me that you are worthier than I to rescue her. Then, the threads of all fate shall be yours to re-weave.

Interestingly, the talk about this door is also teased in one of the Abyss Lector: Violet Lightning's defeat quotes: The door... is... opened unto you...

As the sentience of the Abyss is stated to have an understanding of fate and even be capable of changing it via means yet to be disclosed, there is one more individual that is said to have knowledge of fate itself: Dain.

Judging by the way Clothar didn't wish his son to live a miserable life were he regain his mind again, it's crystal clear that his wish to make him have clarity of mind came with the price of making out of him the Loom of Fate, alongside the loss of sanity that Caribert himself began to experience as his change of voice suggests— which eventually would lead to this complete madness in 100 years. Though his wish had a side effect, this seemed to be a desirable one (be it due to his madness or because it is genuine it's up to debate) as it's the potential reason why it led to his desirable death also and the continuation of his legacy up to this day with Kaeya.

But the truth is that this isn't the first time that the Sinner's voice makes itself manifest, be it in a chronological way or not. A similar pattern if not the same can be noticed in the Black Sword description:

And like other hilichurls and Clothar bowed to the Sinner, so, the Bloodstained Knight who descended to Khaenri'ah to kill the monsters that spawned from there pledged his loyalty to who seems to be the Sinner as well as per the Bloodstained Chivalry set:

In a similar manner as Clothar's wish in regards of Caribert and how he would even give his life for his son to regain clarity of mind if he was allowed, the Bloodstained Knight had his wish potentially at the price of his willing loyalty to the Abyss upon finding out about the truth of the curse of wilderness in Khaenri'ah.

To jump to the next point about the Abyss, looking into what happened to Dvalin and other details like Childe or even other fallen gods inside or outside the Seven's domain, it was safe to assume that the Abyss heightened one's negative traits or emotions by magnifying them in such way that it's hard to escape from the Abyss' grasp. This quest shed more light in the alluring way that the Abyss has to attract creatures in, to make them feel better or even give them a sense of release somehow. Looking into this, Enjou's quote about how the Abyss is "intoxicating" makes all the more sense, as feeling better in a moment that one isn't at their best could be perfectly a feeling that one would want to seek and repeat. It's all the more interesting to see how easily someone can fall into the abyssal corruption like this and how it would take a very strong will to not give in to those urges (Dain, I'm looking at you, sir).

To conclude the matter of the Abyss, I wanted to point out the dichotomy of death vs life that is evident through the Abyss' existence but also Irminsul's and how one parallels the other in the sense that both have a sentience and a voice. In the Abyss' case through the undisclosed individual (I'll touch this later briefly) that claims to be a Sinner, and Irminsul. But not through Rhukkadevata or Nahida as per their connections to the tree nor the fact that Rhukkadevata was Irminsul's avatar, but as Irminsul with its own voice and sentience as per the Frostbearer:

And just like the Abyss has its form of "blessing", so does Irminsul in giving life not only to the whole world by spreading what it needs to be sustained, but also to select individuals as per the Doors of Resurrection mechanic:

In regards of the Sinner, there is not much more to say that I already didn't besides a small hypothesis of his identity as King Irmin based on the similarities between that warmth the Sinner seemed to exude while he had that feeling that something is wrong with him as King Irmin seemed to have according to the statuettes. Moreover, according to one of the writings that Kaeya had saved in secret of his father, Khaenri'ah wasn't in the best shape at least during King Irmin's final moments on the throne:

Remember always that it was the Alberich clan, who did not have royal blood, who stepped in as regents when the strength of the one-eyed king Irmin failed. Though we could not restore Khaenri'ah to life, we of the Alberich Clan should lead lives as those who blaze life fire, rather than those who wallow in the embers.

The last thing I want to mention is how interesting it is the prospect that strong abyssal creatures like the Abyss Herald: Frost Fall, Fortune Lector already existed before the foundation of the Abyss Order. Which suggests that there were more creatures as part of the Abyss (not the Abyss Order yet, although we do see the Hydro Herald Dain defeated, Enjou and other Lectors as part of the Abyss Order) and that they were at the Sinner's command. Perhaps they were humans before during King Irmin's reign and he had a small group of people that later on would follow after his steps.

[dutybcrne]

Watching JJK0 again, and like

What if. What if Dainsleif, hyped up on and tainted by Abyssal energy, pulled a Yuta a lil bit and accidentally/unknowingly cursed a dying Halfdan to be a lingering spirit attached to him in his desperation, mostly dormant but manifesting when Dainsleif is in most peril and brutally slaughtering any Abyssal creatures that go near him, sometimes being a danger to people Dain is unconsciously suspicious of/startle him, and it isn't until The Chasm when they get their closure ( along with Halfdan being able to reunite with his body ) that he is finally able to break that cursed bond and pass on-

[quimichi]

↳ ❝ [CALLING THE MONDSTADT BOYS YOUR GOOD BOY] ¡! ❞

Mondstadt boys x Creator!Reader

Dainseif, Diluc, Kaeya & Venti

Albedo's part here > ♡

Dainseif - What does freedom really mean, when demanded of you by a god?

"Please, come to me" you simply said, your voice echoing not only in the room, but also in his mind. Dainsleif doesn't hesitate for a moment.

He stands and crosses the distance between you without a second thought. His every movement is graceful and elegant. He would move through the ocean if it meant he could hold your gaze just a moment longer.

Now that he is close, he kneels once more. He wants to be on your level, he wants to be near you. "I am here, Your Grace." He stays on his knees, silent, waiting for you. If you want him to move, he will; if you want him to speak, he will; if you want him to simply be here, just within your presence— he will.

"Dain?" It only takes your utterance, your voice, for his head to snap in your direction.

"Yes, Your Grace?"

"You're my good boy aren't you?" The words are music to Dainsleif's ears. He loves nothing more than to hear you call him something so loving. "Yes," he whispers, the word a breath of reverence. "I am your good boy."

"And why are you my good boy?" His cheeks flush as he looks up to you, eyes glowing like a star. His lashes flutter against his cheeks as the thought of being your good boy floods him with happiness and contentment.

"Because I am yours and have always served you." His words are firm, with the certainty of one who has never strayed from his purpose.

"Mine?"

"Yes. I am yours."

"I exist to serve you, to serve your beauty, your kindness, and love." This is truth to Dainsleif. He cannot imagine himself being anything but yours. "And thats why youre my good boy, Dainsleif" "Yes, Your Grace." He smiles at you, joy and contentment overflowing inside of him.

"I am happy to be your good boy. I am proud and eager to serve you, to honor and adore you." His expression is loving, warm, and peaceful. Dainsleif stays on his knees, head cocked to the side. His blue eyes are shining with love and affection. "What would you like me to do for you?" He asks, eager to serve you with all his heart.

"I want you to stay with me forever..." "I would love to stay with you, Your Grace." Dainsleif would die a hundred mortal deaths if it meant living in your presence for even an hour. The very thought of being near you stirs something inside him; his heart leaps into the sky, his breath catches in his throat.

He is entirely devoted to you.

Diluc - Though it is still not enough, I will always face the darkness.

"Please, step a bit closer to me" such a simple request it is but your command startles him. He looks up at you, and his eyes go wide. He is utterly taken aback, but that is not an excuse. He is yours to command.Diluc complies, and steps closer to your side.

"Are you my good boy, Diluc?"

"Y-yes," he responds at once. He bows his head as he speaks but, if it were possible, he bows even further. His heart is thumping against his chest as if it wants to jump free. He is utterly devoted to you. Every inch of him yours. "I'm sorry i didnt quite heard you, could you repeat that?" You're teasing him, how could you not? Diluc is more than embarrassed, but it is not his will to refuse you. He is yours, after all.

"Y-yes," he says, and his voice breaks slightly from the embarrassment.

"Once more, please, for me?" the opportunity is to good to let it slide. "Yes!" he says once more, and the blush on his face spreads throughout his body. Embarrassed, thats what he is, embarrassed. Your smile alone makes his stomach jump like it's trying to escape. He cannot understand how you make him feel this way.

He is still shy about this ordeal, but he knows that he cannot look away. He is there to serve you, after all. "Good boy~

"Diluc smiles despite himself at your praise. He knows better than to be happy at this moment, but some part of him thrills at the feeling of your gaze on his skin. His heart has a mind of its own, however, and it seems like it knows no boundaries. "Thank you," he says, and bows his head yet again. His embarrassment remains, but it is balanced with the thrill of your praise.

Your good boy...

Kaeya - Life's greatest illusions are the ones we believe in ourselves

"Kaeya?" Kaeya glances up at you, but he doesn't move from his comfortable position— at least, not yet. In fact, he appears to have become more comfortable, resting his head against your thighs and taking small, deep breaths. He stares down at you and smiles, seemingly amused by the situation. "I'm not moving," he mutters. "I'm perfectly comfortable here."

"Oh? Is my good boy all comfy?" "...Mhm." Kaeya's smile is genuine. With one hand, he reaches up, brushing his thumb against your cheek. "...I love you, Your Grace." Please let me stay here. I don't ever want to leave.

Hes so enchanted by your presence alone, he seemed to not process every word you say. Kaeya takes them as they are..."Did you hear me? I said youre my good boy" You're just checking, thats what youre telling yourself. But und truth, you just want to see a reaction, hear how his voice changes with realization.

"Of course I'm your good boy." Kaeya closes his eyes now, nuzzling himself against your legs. "No one else could be, after all. They don't worship you like I do."

"Your devotion's a gift, you know." Kaeya's tone is one of playful teasing, though the compliment is very much sincere. "You know I wouldn't let anyone else here give me physical affection, but for you, I make an exception. Why? Well, for one thing, you're deserving of it." You notice that Kaeya's leg is twitching— he wants to move, but it's as if he physically can't manage it. This may just be the most comfortable Kaeya's ever been, even if he can't say it out loud.

"Isn't my boy nice, huh?" "What can I say? I'm at your service... always." Kaeya's grip tightens about your thighs slightly. "Your approval means the world to me... I'd do anything to keep in your good graces."

He pauses for a moment, his expression becoming almost solemn. "...You know what I most desire, Your Grace?" Kaeya keeps his eyes shut, as though he's ashamed to speak."I would very much like to be yours," he says quietly.

"I want you to choose me."

Venti - Videtis illam spirare libertatis auram

"Yes, your Grace."

Venti complies instantly, quickly moving to sit down on the seat beside you. As soon as his body settles down, he starts idly swinging his legs up and down as if he's a toddler waiting for his mother to take him to the playground.He doesn't say a word, instead contenting himself with simply smiling up at you.

"Good boy" such small words, but they hold a way bigger meaning behind them. As Venti hears your praise, he almost falls into a completely euphoric state. He is practically quivering with excitement, unable to control his emotions for even a second longer. He starts muttering to himself, unable to comprehend what he is feeling in the presence of your grace.

"Please— please, don't call me a good boy again... please, please, make me yours..." Venti flushes pinker than a rose. "I— I meant your worshipful servant!" His eyes are fixed on you adoringly and desperately.

"Your dog, even!" Venti is too lost in the moment to realize how awkward his words were, and he starts desperately scrambling to come up with something even more degrading to call himself.

"Your footstool, even! Your carpet, your chair! Even your floor...!" His words are garbled and desperate, his mind completely blank right now. "But Venti, you're my good boy, not my chair or my floor...my good boy"

Venti's eyes widen as he hears your words. His face is still bright red, but your praise is enough to make him lightheaded. "Am I— am I your good boy.." he mumbles quietly, but he sounds genuinely baffled. "Are you sure..?"

"Yes" Venti is practically panting with excitement now, having gotten the confirmation that he is yours. "Y— you really mean it.." Even when he speaks quietly, you can hear the excitement in his voice, the thrill in his heart.

"Then I really am your good boy, aren't I...?"

"Yes"

"Then I will do my best to be the very best good boy for you, your Grace," Venti whispers reverently.

Even in his excitement, Venti remains reverent towards you. To be your good boy... He can't think of anything he wants more.

[callsign-rogueone]

keep her safe - g.t.

Garrick Tavis x Marked!Pacifist!Reader  This one is for my fellow tired, chronic pain girls who just want their suffering to serve some purpose, and those who trust everyone they meet, even if they shouldn’t. wc: 4.7k -- the longest work I've ever put on this blog! second chapter is here! 🏷: spoilers for both Fourth Wing books (I’m currently 500 pages into Iron Flame, and y’all... 😭) people refer to you with she/her pronouns, canon-typical violence and torture, mentions of canon character death / death of a family member, bad coping mechanisms, Dain and his memory reading (I tried to make him more tolerable), one (1) reference to sex, I gave you a last name (Avan) and Garrick calls you angel as a pet name, because I refuse to use y/n. Your dragon's name is Tab.

Your stomach drops as your name is called for a challenge. “No weapons today.” Emeterrio adds. “I want you to work on your hand-to-hand.”

The pair of you unsheath nearly a dozen knives apiece, you handing yours to Bodhi. Disarmed, you extend a hand to the boy, as is the Tyrrish tradition before a friendly spar, but he doesn’t take it. No unmarked ones ever have.

He charges first, tangles a hand in your hair and pulls, jerking your head back, and the crowd of freshmen gasp, but you plant your feet and move with him, twisting your spine with practiced ease.

That gives you enough distance to kick a leg out at his right knee, hitting him squarely in the back of it. He releases you. Another swift kick to his legs has them sweeping out from under him. You dig a thumb into his collarbone, finding just the right spot, and he crumples, giving you a split second to wrap your arm around his throat.

He claws at your elbow with blunt nails, wasting breath as he attempts to rise to his feet, but you keep him pinned with your body weight, bearing down as hard as you can. He bucks, and your left boot skids against the mat. 

You bend your knee to brace yourself in a lunge. Your arm is starting to falter, he can feel the muscle straining around his jaw, but he’s tiring too — running out of air. If neither of you moves, he’s going to die.

“Enough,” Emeterrio commands.

You release him, extending a hand to pull him up, but he smacks it away and dives straight at you, clearly not done. “I’m not letting you off that easily, traitor.” 

You squeak in surprise, your back hitting the mat with a thud, and he lands another blow to your jaw. You struggle to take control back, gasping for breath from how hard you’d hit the floor.

He gathers your wrists into one hand easily, the other closing around your throat.

“You are going to die on this mat if you don’t do something, now. Use the failsafe.” 

There’s one dagger you hadn’t removed, that you’d won from Garrick in combat your first year, that he’d let you win, really, and promptly ordered that you never remove it from your reach, for situations like this.

He doesn’t have your legs pinned, so you kick out, catching him in the thigh, and his grip falters. You manage to wiggle one arm free to pull the blade from the inside of your jacket, rolling onto your side and holding the point millimeters away from his chest. “Yield,” you order, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“You won’t kill me,” He snarls. “Everyone knows you’re all bark and no bite. That’s why you keep him around.”

You drag it down, just enough to tear his shirt. “Yield, or you’ll meet Malek today and you can explain to him what a cheating coward you are.” The words surprise you, but you fight to maintain the hardened look on your face, trying to convince him you’re serious. 

“Fine,” he spits, “I yield.”

Heart still pounding, you move to lean against the wall with the other marked ones, Bodhi handing you back your arsenal blade by blade. 

“She cheated!” Jason protests as soon as he’s standing again.

“She did what was necessary after you defied a direct order from a superior officer,” Emeterrio says narrowly.

Jason glowers, but returns to his friends without further argument. The rest of the pack takes note of their faces; they’re likely as conniving as him, and as liable to try to kill you, too.

“I’m gonna end that motherfucker,” Garrick mutters, checking you over for injuries as subtly as he can. He hands you a scrap of cloth and you wipe the blood from your nose, wincing, but grateful it isn’t broken.

“He’s been at this for months. One of these days, he’s going to kill you.” Bodhi says quietly, his gaze not moving from the next sparring pair.

“Why not kill him first?” Imogen asks. “You had a knife to his gut, you should have used it.”

“No.” You say firmly. “To kill anyone unmarked, especially an officer’s son, would confirm what everyone else in this army believes about Tyrs; that we are bloodthirsty animals.”

“Let them believe that,” she scoffs. “They’ll never change their mind.”

You sigh. Maybe she’s right.

You don’t see your friends for the next ten hours, when you’re finally excused for dinner.

“Where the hell have you been?” Bodhi asks. 

“Medical wing,” you rasp, sliding into a seat at the end of the bench. “Mending infantry with Carr.” 

“You should eat,” Liam says softly, pushing a plate toward you, but you shake your head no, every muscle in your body screaming. 

You look like your head is going to hit the table, your neck no longer able to hold it up. Bodhi pulls you into his side and you slump against him, boneless. “Her signet isn’t fully developed yet,” you hear him explain to Violet and Liam. “She’ll be okay. She just needs to rest.”

When you wake, it’s dark out, the room nearly pitch black, but you can tell it’s not yours — the furniture is arranged differently.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, gentle one,” Tab greets as soon as you’re cognizant. He can only be this dry about it because he knew you’d pull through. “If he makes you do that again, I’ll eat him.”

You laugh, wincing at the pain in your ribs. Your entire body aches. There’s no way you got up the three flights of stairs here yourself — you didn’t even have it in you to chew food at dinner.

There’s a comforting scent to the room — all the soap and detergent everyone uses is standard issue, but something about the sheets smells like Garrick. Your theory is confirmed when he walks through the door, the hallway light illuminating the hilts of the two swords strapped to his back. “If you want me in your bed, Gare, you just need to ask,” you say in greeting.

He laughs dryly, waving a hand to activate a small mage light. “The damage can’t be too bad if you’re already cracking jokes.”

“I missed physics, didn’t I? Did you carry me up here?”

“Of course that’s what you’re worried about. You can copy Violet’s notes, they’re way better than mine.” He strips some of the weapons off, shedding his flight jacket along with them. It’s something you’ve seen many times before, but it never fails to make your heart flutter.

He sits on the edge of the bed, a gentle hand moving up to lay against your cheek. “And I did carry you. I’d do anything for you, angel. It scares me sometimes.”

He brushes a piece of hair from your face. You’d been freezing cold when you fell asleep, so he’d draped you with every blanket he owned before leaving, and it seems to have worked — your skin is pleasantly warm against his hand.

“Anything, hm?” You ask, a lazy smile on your face. 

His eyes sparkle at the mischief in your tone, but he’s responsible enough to think before he acts. “Not until you’ve recovered,” he says sternly. 

You yawn. “D’you have section leader stuff to do tonight?”

“That’s what executive officers are for.”

You crack an eye to look at him in disapproval. “Gare, you can’t skip duty. Melgren will have your head.”

He sighs. “Fine. Don’t go anywhere.”

“I won’t. Your bed is more comfortable than mine anyway.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, tugging the jacket back on and strapping in the swords.

/////////

Someone is standing in front of your yoga mat. Dain. “No bodyguard today?” He asks.

You’re silent, your gaze flickering between him and the longsword by your side, the one Garrick had insisted you take with you everywhere when he wasn’t there to protect you.

“You may find this hard to believe, but I don’t want to kill you.” He says with a sigh. “I just need to-”

“Quit talking and join me, or leave.” You interrupt, settling into a deeper stretch, eyes closing as you gesture to the floor next to you with an open hand. By the grace of Amari, Carr had given you enough time off to recover, but he’ll likely be making you work another shift in the infirmary today. This will be your only pocket of calm for the next twelve hours. You aren’t going to skip it for Dain, of all people.

He chooses the first option, surprising you as he drags a mat over beside yours, attempting to copy your movements. “Do you really do this every day?” He asks, uncomfortable.

“Even a soldier must take time to be at peace. Clear your mind. Whatever you’re thinking about is so loud it’s distracting.”

He startles, his foot slipping on the mat.

“No, my signet is not mind-reading.” You say, eyes still closed, though there’s an amused look on your face. “Relax. You’re killing the air in here with that nervous energy.”

For the next five minutes, you both stretch in total silence. “Now,” you decide, bringing your arms back to your body, focusing on your breathing, “what was so important that you needed to find me here?”

He cuts straight to it. “Varrish wants me to… practice on you. He thinks you’re hiding something, that all of you are.” He doesn’t need to specify who he means by you. 

You don’t seem to react to the information, instead looking at him with curiosity. “How do you feel about your signet?” 

He blinks. Nobody’s ever asked him that before. “I don’t know.” He says quietly. You shift again, but he doesn’t follow you, folding his legs underneath him instead. Your silence presses him to speak, needing to fill the air. “I used to think it was cool, but now… now I’m wondering if it’s really a gift at all.”

“What do you see when you view a memory like that? Are you living it through their eyes, or from above, watching it unfold? How far back can you see?”

“Through their eyes.” He answers, throat dry. Why is he telling you this? “A day, maybe two. It depends. Varrish wants me to learn to push it farther.”

You weigh the consequences. If he’s being honest, he won’t see anything confidential — at worst, a gathering of more than three marked ones to exercise, but is he really petty enough to tell Varrish about that, when he’s giving you a warning in the first place?

“Okay.” You say, opening your eyes. Better it be you than one of the kids who can’t shield their memories yet, or Garrick or Bodhi, who would rip him limb from limb if he tried to touch them.

“What?”

“I’m going to go about my day now as if this conversation never happened,” you say, looking him in the eye, unflinching, “and you’re going to do what you have to do to satisfy Varrish’s demands — with me and only me. Are we clear?”

“Yes,” he stammers, shocked that you’re letting him do this.

“Good.” You pick up the longsword, strapping it back in along your spine. “Dain?” You call over your shoulder. “I won’t make it easy for you.” You say, and he knows that’s a promise.

“That was an incredibly stupid decision, gentle one. A noble decision, but stupid nonetheless.” Tab speaks into your mind on the way back up to your room. “You cannot always assume everyone has good intentions. It would have been your downfall by now, if not for your mate’s protection.”

“Stop calling Garrick my mate. That’s weird.” You deflect, not wanting to unpack his earlier words.

“Forgive me. Dragons do not have a word for a relationship as trivial as a boyfriend.”

You build up a mental wall like Xaden had taught you, ending the argument. 

When Varrish calls you into his office that afternoon, you already know what it’s for. “Take a seat,” he says with a smile that you know isn’t meant to be friendly.

He sees the way your eyes immediately narrow at the sight of Dain — everyone knows how the quadrant’s golden boy feels about marked ones, and how you feel about him. You’re going to be doing some very good acting today.

The door closes and locks behind you, and your stomach flips as you feel the sound shield form and press up against the office walls. There’s no escape, and no screaming for help, but you know what you’ve walked into. You signed up for it this morning.

“To what do I owe this meeting, Major?” You ask respectfully, lowering yourself into the chair beside Dain.

“Professor Carr has made me aware that both of your signets have been slow to develop. We’re going to spend your leisure time today practicing, in hopes that you will finally improve.” A very convincing lie, you’ll admit. If Dain hadn’t come to you this morning, you might have believed it. “No objections?” He asks, waiting for you to protest.

“No, sir.” You say calmly, Dain answering the same a beat behind you.

“Good. Aetos, you first.”

It takes every ounce of self control not to squirm as Dain stands, stepping toward you. You lift your chin, closing your eyes -- a gesture of consent small enough to fly under the Vice Commandant’s radar.

You may be letting him try, but you’d told him this wouldn’t be easy. You block him out completely, raising your mental shield and barring the gates.

“What do you see?” Varrish asks.

Dain doesn’t answer. He does not push, does not attempt to kick the door down or dig below the foundation. He stands outside, waiting for you to give him something. 

The crack of his nose breaking has your eyes flying open, the coppery scent of blood starting to fill the room immediately as he staggers back into his chair.

“Your turn, Avan."

You stand, laying a gentle hand on Dain’s jaw to tilt it up, stopping the blood from pouring down his shirt. 

He looks up at you, stunned, but lets you touch the broken cartilage with your fingertips, and moments later it feels like nothing ever happened. It’s mind-bending.

“Very good. Aetos, try again. What was she doing this morning?”

Dain stands, angling his body between yours and Varrish’s so that the Major can’t see the apology he mouths before his hands touch your forehead. Whether he can see his conversation with you in the gym is unclear. He lies through his teeth either way. “She was alone,” he answers, “on a run to the flight field and back.” 

“And then?”

He shifts uncomfortably, his eyes not leaving yours. “A shower, breakfast. Eggs. An apple. Toast. She sat with Tavis and two other marked ones.” He leaves out Violet from the group, not wanting to implicate her. Interesting. 

That much is true, but it’s part of your everyday routine — he could have easily gleaned that from watching you across the mess hall. Is he still locked out?

Varrish stands, rounding the corner of his desk. “Let’s make this a little harder, shall we?”

Dain screams as a dagger pierces his arm, thrashing in his chair. Varrish twists the blade as he pulls it out, letting Dain’s blood drip to the floor. This is why he needed the sound shield.

Your eyes widen, and the adrenaline has you leaping to your feet to fix it. You press a hand into the wound, apologizing when he winces. It takes you longer than it should for the muscle to repair itself.

“You care more about him than I thought.” Varrish muses.

You turn to him, anger flickering in your chest. “It is my moral obligation to help the wounded.”

He tuts. “You would have made an excellent healer, had your parents not committed high treason. Aetos, again. Find something older.”

Dain trembles as he stands, and you take pity on him. You push an older memory forward, a happy one, remembering it as vividly as you can.

You watch together as you sprint through the forest, stopping dead in your tracks as you see two cadets fighting. The one losing is a smaller girl in your class whose name Dain can’t remember, a tall, muscled boy towering over her, sword ready to strike.

You spring forward, catching him by surprise and effectively disarming him, and he chooses to abandon the sword and run rather than fight the both of you. You extend a hand to pull the girl to her feet and her eyes widen further, staring up not at you, but behind you.

You feel a burst of heat against your back — not hot enough to be fire. Steam. You bow your head in deference, turning slowly to give the girl time to run… And the dragon bows back. What the fuck?

“You did not kill the boy.” It says directly into your mind.

“I did not.” You answer aloud, not sure if humans can do that.

“Have you ever killed before, gentle one?”

“I haven’t.” Should you be embarrassed? Dragons are violent, surely they would see this as a sign of weakness.

“Not all of us.”

“Holy shit, you can read my mind.”

The girl laughs in disbelief, and you realize you’ve just bonded a dragon.

“In time you’ll learn to control that. But your friend needs to get moving, and so do we.”

You wish her luck before scaling the leg of your dragon and taking a seat.

“Hold on.”

You shriek in happiness like a child as he jumps up, and seconds later you’re thousands of feet in the air, looking down at Basgiath and the valley below. When you return to the flight field, you find Garrick there with a giant brown Scorpiontail, bloodied but happy as he stands next to Xaden and the biggest blue daggertail you’ve ever seen. You pull them both into a hug, just grateful they’re alive.

“Careful, angel,” Garrick warns, grinning into your hair, “we just might make it out of here.”

You cut Dain off there, yanking back the memory before slamming your shields back up. He can have that moment, but only that moment.

“Threshing,” Dain says. Thank the gods. “She helped another cadet who was being attacked. That’s why Tab chose her, for her kindness.”

You both look at Varrish for further instruction. Your shields have been weakening with every injury you repair, but so have Dain’s abilities. You don’t know how many more rounds either of you can take. 

“I think that’s enough for today,” He says, sounding pleased. “I’ll see you again on Wednesday morning, to check your progress. You’re dismissed.”

The sound shield dissipates, the door unlocking. The only evidence is Dain’s blood, smeared across his face and arms, drying on the floor and under your nails. You commit the sight to memory, tucking it into the same folder that holds the death of your parents, and slam the drawer shut.

It takes you five minutes to scrub the blood out of the cracks in your palms and from under your nails. Your fingertips are wrinkled when you step into the gym.

“Why did Tab tell Chradh that you were called into Varrish’s office with Aetos?” Garrick asks, remarkably calm as he toys with one of his smaller daggers.

“Because he’s a meddling mother hen.” You answer, avoiding the question.

“Watch it.”  Tab warns. “Tell him the truth, or we will.”

You know he’s not bluffing. “He wanted us to practice our signets on each other.”

“Dain practiced his signet, his memory-reading signet, on you?” He asks, already simmering with anger.

“This morning, he came to me to warn me about Varrish’s plan, and I told him it was okay. I used my shields, and I only showed him what I wanted to. We’re supposed to do it again Wednesday.”

Your eyes communicate something else you won’t say aloud, not in front of everyone, and not when you know Dain might be able to see this conversation in two days. I did this to take the heat off of the others. You know I was the safest choice.

Garrick sighs. “I can’t tell you what to do, but I’d like to state for the record that I hate this plan. Literally everything about it. Except for Aetos being stabbed, maybe.” Of course Chradh told him about that. He’d have been delighted by the news, despising both him and Cath.

You give him a look.

“Okay, fine. I take that back.”

He doesn’t. 

By Wednesday, the pain in the bridge of your nose is gone, but your arm is still tender where Dain had been stabbed. Bodhi joins you in the gym, stretching with you for a few minutes before he settles into a plank at your side, his eyes never leaving the door.

Dain does not make an appearance at breakfast, notably absent from the leadership table.

Garrick excuses himself as soon as he sees you stand with your tray, catching you by the doors. “Remember that you’re stronger than both of them in all the ways that matter,” he says quietly. “I’ll find you as soon as you’re done.” You both tap your chest twice before parting ways, as has been your tradition for years -- a reminder that even though you’re leaving, you still hold the other in your heart.

Each step up to Varrish’s office is another reminder of what’s to come when you reach the top. “Cadet Avan,” he greets with another sickening smile. “Just in time. We were beginning to think you weren’t coming.”

Your jaw drops at the sight of Dain slumped into the same chair as last time, bloodied and exhausted.

“Nothing fatal,” Varrish reassures. “Not if you act quickly. Go ahead, get started.”

The Vice Commandant’s words have you on edge as you assess him, looking for gaping wounds or broken bones. Dain winces as your hands move over his ribs, and you whisper an apology, pressing in deeper. When your chest starts to ache, you know it’s time to move on. You mend two broken ribs, dissolve a purple bruise on his arm, and fix a split lip, but Dain still hasn’t woken up.

You turn back to Varrish. “One left,” he says. “Use your head.”

Oh, gods. He’d given Dain a concussion, because he knows the migraine it’ll give you will make it harder to shield. You cradle the second-year’s head in your hands, breathing out deeply as you transfer the pain from his body to yours, healing the bruised tissue. Dain blinks himself awake as you stumble, the room suddenly spinning.

“Well done. Aetos?”

You fumble for the arms of your chair, vision blurring at the edges, but you manage to sit back down.

“Say the word, and I get your mate,” Tab offers. He can probably feel your disorientation, concerned you won’t be able to block Dain out in this state.

“No,” you rasp back. “If he shows up, Varrish will have us practice on him instead.”

 You need to pick another memory to satisfy Varrish, something older, but your brain isn’t firing on all cylinders. Dain gives you a moment to gather yourself, a small gesture of mercy.

“A moment of pure happiness,” Tab suggests. “Something with the wingleader and your mate.”

You flip back in the book of your life, nearly all the way to the beginning, opening it to the right page to give to Dain and slipping it under the gate with a nod of your head — you’re ready.

Dain’s hands are warm against your freezing cheeks. A boy no older than five that he recognizes as Garrick crouches under a desk across the room, holding a finger to his lips. 

“Wherever could those children possibly be?” Someone muses aloud, and you fight laughter as the voice grows closer, thinking it amusing that this adult has no idea you’re hiding in the curtains.

Footsteps retreat, and Garrick signals for you to move. You make it down the hallway before you see someone searching — presumably whatever parent you’d convinced to play with you. Small hands tug you both behind a plush velvet couch. Xaden. 

You press yourselves up against it, trying to be as quiet as possible, watching as a shadow forms on the wall in front of you, then a head peers over the back of the couch — that must be your father. He looks just like you, has the same warm smile.

“One more, and then I need to get back to work,” He says, already moving to cover his eyes and starting to count to one hundred. You each run off in a different direction, and the scene fades there.

“A childhood memory,” Dain says. “Playing hide and seek in her father’s office with Riorson and Tavis.”

Not good enough for Varrish. “Give me something I can use,” he snarls, a Freudian slip, but nothing either of you hadn’t known already. 

You flip forward in the book, settling on a page you never look at, that you can’t bear to, but that Varrish will revel in. You rip it out, sliding it under the gate. “Bad,” you whisper, the only warning you can manage.

Dain nods in permission, ready to watch whatever memory you’ve pushed forward.

Someone presses a small stone into your hand, an intricate overlap of shapes and lines engraved on one side, the other perfectly smooth.

“Do not put it down, even for a moment,” your father says. He’s aged between now and the last memory, starting to go gray at his temples. “Keep it in your hand until the end. It will protect you when we can’t.”

He looks next to Garrick. “She is everything good about the world.” He says quietly. “Take care of her.”

Garrick promises he will, and your father pulls you into one last embrace before he leaves. Tears blur your vision, Garrick pulling you close. “It’ll be okay,” he soothes. “They’ll come back.”

Hours pass that Dain can’t see, because you don’t remember them. 

There’s an ache in your palm from clutching the stone so hard, the rounded corners digging into your skin. Garrick takes your free hand in his, interlocking your fingers. Then there’s only screaming and fire and rage, heat burning up your arm as it’s marked with inky swirls. Until the end, your father had said. This must have been what he meant.

“Her parents’ execution,” Dain says, a note of genuine hurt in his voice. “They gave each child a runestone before they left, as protection.”

Varrish’s eyes rake over to you. He leans forward, yanking on the leather cord that disappears into the neck of your shirt hard enough to pull your body with it. “A runestone like this one?”

“Yes,” you answer before Dain can, saving him the lie. You shut your eyes, wincing as the cold edge of a knife brushes against your neck and the cord breaks, a single drop of warm blood running down your collarbone. You don’t protest, you can’t, your mind still hazy and eyes wet with tears from reliving the memory with Dain.

“That will be all.” Varrish dismisses. He doesn’t make an appointment for you to come back. He has what he needs.

You stand, relying on your knowledge of the office’s layout to navigate your way forward until the door closes behind you.

“I’m so sorry,” Dain breathes once you’re down the hall far enough to avoid being heard. “If I had known,”

“It’s okay. The rune is long dead, and he has no idea how to recreate it. I’m just glad he didn’t hurt you again.” You blink, trying to clear your head. How are you going to get down all these stairs? You can hardly see.

“Here,” he says quietly, extending a hand. You take it, letting him loop an arm over his shoulders — your right, the one that Varrish hadn’t bruised black and blue on Dain — and lead you one step at a time.

You’re halfway down when you hear heavy footsteps running up the stairs. Garrick. He’d promised he’d find you when you were done. He doesn’t spare a glance at Dain, gathering you into his arms and apologizing when he puts pressure on your not-broken ribs.

Dain watches as the older boy carries you down the rest of the stairs, murmuring reassurances to you all the while. Your father’s words echo in his mind. “Take care of her.”

Garrick Tavis is a man of his word.

[horsewithaface]

So I rewrote the Battle of the Five Armies for my Everyone Lives AU because yes I’m still in denial and no you can’t stop me

• Everything up to Fíli getting captured is the same

• Fíli is caught by Azog and held out over the cliff. Kíli is below in the nook. While Azog is giving his speech, Kíli shoots him from below in the wrist, causing him to let go of Fíli. Fíli falls to the ground, onto Kíli, breaking his fall, who drags him into the nook and hides him as he tends to his brother’s wounds. Fíli regains his strength after a short moment and, despite Kíli’s better judgement, Fíli gets up, and races back to the top, calling for Kíli to follow.

• The two brothers fight countless orcs as they climb the stairs of Ravenhill, searching for Thorin. Once they come upon the plateau of ice, they find Bilbo weeping over Thorin as they speak.

• Kíli shuts down, thinking it is too late, but Fíli remembers something crucial. Back in Lake-town, he had pocketed a pouch of Kingsfoil in case his brother’s wounds hadn’t truly healed. With it was a messily-written note of Tauriel’s incantation written out phonetically.

• “I will not let you go, uncle. Not today. It is not your time. We will have a great feast tonight and will walk within the halls of Erebor among our kin. I cannot walk there without you.” - Fíli to Thorin as he kneels down opposite Bilbo, preparing the Kingsfoil. He rips open Thorin’s shirt, revealing the weeping wound before pressing the mixture into it. Thorin lets out a roar of pain but Kíli snaps to attention and runs to hold him down to stop his thrashing. Bilbo grabs Thorin’s hand with both of his, pressing his forehead against the bloodied knuckles, whispering pleas for him to hold on.

• The Kingsfoil incantation only partially works due to Fíli being a novice in elven spells, however it buys them time for Gandalf to get there and finish the spell properly.

• Thorin is taken to the medical hut where he regains his strength for the next week despite his refusal and insistence that he is fine. Bilbo eventually gets through to him and Thorin gives in, allowing the healers to aide him.

• Thorin does not remember what happened when he had succumbed to the dragon sickness, it is only when Bilbo flinches at a sudden movement of his when he is getting frustrated that Bilbo realises Thorin does not remember. Bilbo reluctantly tells him the truth when Thorin demands to know what he did wrong.

• Thorin never forgives himself for his actions, even going so far as to denying his birthright and banishing himself from Erebor. He gives the crown to Fíli who does not accept it, choosing to go with him for Thorin is more important to Fíli than ruling. Kíli never wanted the crown and so the brothers appoint Dain as the rightful king for they would not have prevailed without him.

• Thorin and Bilbo part ways, Bilbo returning to Bag End unsure if he will ever see Thorin again because despite what happened, he never blamed Thorin for it was the fault of the dragon sickness and not his own mind.

• After about a year, Bilbo hears a knock at his door. He is greeted with a very nervous Thorin, quite a juxtaposition from his usual stoic nature. Bilbo doesn’t believe his eyes, convinced that he is dreaming. Thorin cannot help but whisper, “Bilbo…” before engulfing the hobbit in a hug.

• Thorin rambles on a whole poetic speech about how he does not deserve redemption for his actions and he simply came to apologise. Bilbo takes Thorin’s face in his hands, pulling him down to eye level.

• “Stop it. Just stop it, you giant oaf. I forgive you. You never let me speak my mind after the battle. I never blamed you, Thorin. I never have and I never will. It was that bloody dragon, not you. I stand by my word when I say that I am glad that I have shared in your perils. You are more than any Baggins deserves.”

[scara-meow-che]

Dainsleif's dick being infused with abyss energy(?) like his arm-

Like yea Tartaglia's last form's dick, yeah Ito's oni dick, yeah zhongli's dragoon dick,but what of Dain???? That shit must be magical 😩

⦿ 𝗡𝗢𝗪 𝗟𝗜𝗩𝗘 ┃ eyes up here princess with dainsleif

CW. NSFW (MDNI), big dick! dain, fem! reader, use of words (princess), established relationship, teasing, first-time sex, implied oral, sex w/out penetration (thigh job and dick job? is that even a thing? idk, just read it to find out), dirty talk, magical dick (i am NOT sorry), mention of abyss princess lumine

AN. the new archon quest 🧍🏻‍♀️ it felt like a fever dream and it's a whole ass year again before we get to see this man so i am making it my mission to let him and his abyss-energy-fused dick live in my mind rent-free. also, if the anon that sent me this is still here to witness me posting this, hello :D this took me by surprise bcs i planned it to be short but here we are ig

it wasn't every day that you get dain's attention all to yourself.

you would often see him somewhere, busy, as always. sometimes, you would find yourself conversing with a few locals when dain tries to do things on his own as he would reason out that it's for your own safety. or you'd be up and about some part of the region searching for the abyss princess as to what he currently puts as his top priority.

these repeating turn of events would, most of the time, make you question whether you really matter to him seeing as he's always invested in things unrelated to you or what interests you. you don't ask too much from him but sometimes, a little attention would be nice, or have him answer all the questions that run inside your head.

yet, when dain would see that familiar expression painting your face as you make your bed for the night, he would put everything on hold and indulge more in what you'd request. he does make up for you, well, you have no complaints when he does because he'd always be there in a heartbeat for every beck and call.

hence why you're laid out on your bed, legs spread out with him toying with your already sore clit.

the idea of having sex had never once danced in between each conversation you'd have with dain. you'd rather spend the time to catch up on each other's day and sort out a route to where you both want to go next. it never fazed you when some people asked how your relationship with dain is going, not even bothered when some old women from liyue dramatically gasped as you've never been that intimate with your lover.

as the tension builds up throughout the months of overhearing people gossiping about their partners or be the victim of a drunk local telling you the tale of their sexual escapades, it draws out some images in your head. would dain be like the same as those oni's you've heard about? or have an impressive length similar to this one tale about a dragon lord? heck, would he have a dick that grows unrealistically big just like with the harbinger that you've heard about?

but who fucking cares anyway? you're about to get the real deal right now.

"what a curious mind you have there, princess." dain mindlessly mused as he press soft kisses along your thighs, leaving you breathless as he presses himself closer to your aching core. you can feel the heat from the big hard tent on his pants as he rubs himself to the dampness of your cunt. "i thought that eating you out could already satiate your pretty little head but you still want... what? what is it that you want from me again?"

he taunts, amused when he hears a cry from your disheveled form. "ah, didn't i say to tell me if you want something?"

"but it's embarrassing to say it!" you can't even fully reason out how humiliating it is for you to casually ask him that you want to see his dick as you let out another moan when he lightly thrusts his clothed cock on your core. he doesn't even let up, continuing his cruel pace in rubbing his aching dick on your already sensitive clit.

"p-please! i just, a-ah, want to see your d-dick!"

"say what again, princess?"

having enough of his teasing, you went to give your best in bending your body just to reach the big tent on his pants. "i want to see your dick dain and... i want you to fuck me, please."

you can feel a rush of heat all over your skin, your eyes quickly darting to the side to avoid dain's amused pair. a chuckle was all you heard before you felt his hands gently laying you down back to bed. in response to his pleased titter, you scoffed and gave him a quick glare.

"i'm sorry but you're just irresistible when you're so honest with me." he paused as he takes a sharp intake of air when he pulls out his leaking cock from the confines of his pants.

your eyes widen at the sight. no, it's not because he's as big as what you heard like the one of an oni or he has that delicious curve like that of the dragon cock but it's because the hue is unlike any other, the dark blue pulses as beads of white litters on the tip. fuck, when dain gave his dick a quick stroke, you can see how it grew a bit larger in his palm.

you drool just by imagining how it would feel inside of you.

"eyes up here, princess." he gave your thighs a light smack, pulling your attention back up before you felt the cockhead rubbing so gingerly on your little nub, smearing your cum on your lower lips.

"you're so eager for me, huh?" he can feel you trembling the more he pays attention to your aching core, gliding the head back and forth your lower lips, enough to push the head inside your hole but easy for him to just pull right back out. he's testing out the waters, waiting for more of your reactions and he could only see you enjoying yourself being please with the tip of his dick.

"just look at you, so wet and ready for me." and you are, feeling your arousal pool and spill right out of your needy hole while dain keeps making a mess out of it. your hips desperately buck right up, chasing for the head but he kept you pinned down on the soft mattress as he continues teasing you.

"dain, please, want to feel more of you." your hand went to grab his arms, giving it a light squeeze that you knew would get him to listen to you.

but it did the complete opposite.

"didn't you say that you want to see my dick?"

before you could argue back, dain had gently straightened both your legs upward, his strong arms locking you in place before pushing the dark blue cockhead in between your thighs. "been wanting to do this for so long," he uttered with a low groan, his body shivering when he thrusts his cock in the middle of your soft flesh, the rushed and hasty movements of the head prods at your clit. "you look so pretty like this, just letting me use you."

you gasped for air when he purposely prods at your puckering hole, angling his abyss-energy-fused cock to dive in and out of your thighs. your eyes caught a glimpse of how each streak of white glow, the nerves pulsing as he ruts himself so needily on you.

"so keep your pretty eyes on me and maybe, if you managed to do so, i might just give you what you want."

and you did, you desperately tried your best to keep looking at dain and just watching how he use your thighs to get off. it was a rare sight to see dain lose himself, tottering over the warmth and softness that covers his dick.

at first, he was scared that he might scare you off, thinking how unusual his cock looks. compared to what he thought you'd prefer to see in between your legs, about to rail the innocence out of you, his was far off the scales.

but when he saw your eyes almost sparkled when he pulled out his dick, hands so damn eager to touch him, and both your lips spilling out how much you want more of him just sends him over the edge. his pace quickened the more he stares at your needy form, enjoying the way your eyes fluttered close whenever he brushed against your hole before proceeding in sliding his cock back on your thighs.

"i'm so close, fuck, you feel so good 'round me like this, princess." and fuck, yes, you can feel more of his pre-cum ooze around the head and coats more of your already slick skin. it felt so dirty, so filthy to watch him fuck himself with your thighs and you felt dirtier when you were enjoying how his large dick, fused with the same abyss energy as his arm, slides back and forth your thighs.

"cum for me please," you whispered, urging your lover to release his load on your skin. within seconds, dain stopped his thrusts as he buried his cock between your legs, pressing it tighter as he shoots his load on your flesh, slowly having the thick globs of his cum drip down on your core.

while dain goes to steady his breathing, you went to open up your legs to see how much cum had covered your body, the scent of sex causing your head to fizzle out that you had nothing in your mind but the need to see his dick filling you up.

dainsleif was shocked when you went to reach out for his cock, the keenness in your eyes captivating as you focused on his dick.

"wanna see how it looks as you fuck me." your request came like a cry, a whimper of desperation. and you can feel the way dain's dick twitched on your hand.

you're going to be the death of him.

⠀⠀scara-meow-che © 2023 ┃ do not copy, modify, or repost ANY of my content

[touteslespetiteschosess]

Is It Over Now? || Kylian Mbappé

Plot: Kylian and y/n have been fighting for so long, she's not even sure she knows what they're fighting for anymore. Angst.

Warnings: toxic relationship

Word count: 3458

Masterlist

y/n well done on your goal, amour x will you want dinner when you get home? i'm making myself some pasta so i'll do extra for you x do you know what time you'll be home? i've left some food in the fridge for you x kylian can you reply please? i'm worried it's getting late, where are you?

A deep frown was etched on her face, she stared at her ignored texts, the oldest sent five hours ago and the most recent nearly an hour ago. None of them had received a response and neither had her calls.

She hadn't been able to go to his match today, as she'd already arranged to go out for her friend's birthday in the morning. Kylian hadn't minded though, it wasn't a particularly important match and she rarely missed any of his games, so she could be forgiven for this. Surely that wasn't why he was ignoring her. Well, knowing him at the moment she could easily conclude that there was no reason behind the radio silence. He was just being Kylian.

Dick.

She knew he probably had no reason to ignore her; he was most likely just over at Achraf's and didn't value her emotions enough to dain her with a text back. Still, having been alone in the house for so many hours with only her thoughts to keep her company, she couldn't stop her mind from wandering. It only felt natural to pick up her phone and she really couldn't help herself from opening Instagram. Her thumbs had a mind of their own, opening one of his fan accounts.

Then there he was, grainy footage of him on their story at some club in Paris, surrounded by his teammates. And then there was somebody else. Some girl sat at his side- on his side more really- his arm flopped lazily over the back of the booth behind her.

She was saying something and he was laughing. He was laughing in a way that he never did with y/n anymore. Wow, he was really laughing- surely nothing she said could be that funny.

The video was short, maybe five seconds, but she restarted it, watching it again, feeling a fire raging within her. The next story was a photo that some stranger in the club had taken. The pair were on the dance floor, none of his friends were in sight now. Her hands were up in the air and only now did y/n notice the girl's outfit. She wore a little red dress, just like the one that hung up in y/n and Kylian's shared closet. It was his favourite dress and she knew it.

At the sight, the fire that burned within her suddenly settled, an eery calm setting over her. After a few moments, she headed upstairs and drew a bath, watching the water slowly rise up the tub's sides. She loved that bath; the tub was huge, yet elegant, and sat right in front of a huge window which gave the most amazing view of the Eiffel Tower. Besides that, she and Kylian had spent some memorable nights in this bathtub. Not for a while though, she thought.

Now that she really considered it, she wasn't sure how many good memories she had with Kylian in the last six months. Maybe after three years together, she'd just grown used to the knowledge that she loved him and hadn't considered if he still deserved it. Maybe she hadn't considered if he still deserved her.

Maybe she'd been so caught up in the idea of the perfect man she'd met in that bar three years ago. She still remembered that innocent smile so vividly, the way he'd lift his glass to sip, almost hiding behind the thing. How every time she'd flirt with him, he'd blush like a schoolboy, and then suddenly shoot back with the most outrageous comment.

How a month after they'd started dating, the pandemic hit, and he'd turned up at her door, much to her disapproval. Then, he'd immediately asked her to move in with him. She still remembered his words.

Take a chance. If we're gonna go down, let's go down in flames. I don't wanna forget you, baby.

That aged like room-temperature milk.

He'd convinced her so easily, his charming smile and smooth words always getting the best of her. And he'd been right. Those had been the best few months of her life.

And even after lockdown, when she was back at work and football became more full on, everything had just seemed so right. He just seemed so right.

Every time he'd go away for matches, he'd always find some stupid trinket to bring home for her. The tradition had started the week they'd met, when she'd asked him out on another date and he'd had to turn her down, as he was playing away in Italy. He'd brought her back a little keyring- a pizza with Italia written on it. It was so tacky and so cheesy that she immediately fell in love... with the keyring. Their fridge was still littered with far too many magnets to count, very out of place in his black and white, minimalist kitchen.

Of course, she remembered the first gift, and she remembered the first time he'd forgotten. It was after an away match to Manchester City. An away match that had knocked PSG out of the Champions League- in the semi-finals.

It wasn't that she'd been expecting a gift- no, she completely understood. It was difficult for him; he'd been injured and therefore couldn't play the second leg. He'd had to go all the way to Manchester and didn't even get to kick the ball. He just had to sit on the bench and watch his dream fade before his eyes.

Despite not playing, she knew he blamed himself. He always blamed himself. For the injury. For not scoring in the first leg. For everything.

At the time, she hadn't been upset that he hadn't bought her some shitty magnet for their already cluttered fridge or a bottle opener for their already stuffed drawer. Besides, Manchester didn't have much to offer in the tourism department besides football, so she could forgive him for not wanting to search through shops full of his opponents' memorabilia, just to uphold their tradition.

Looking back on it though, that was the moment he snapped. Three weeks later, he'd returned from Reims empty-handed; when she'd playfully questioned him, asking how she was supposed to sleep at night without an 'I <3 Reims' t-shirt, he'd grunted something about being busy with work and she tried not to let her face fall, wishing he'd have just made some stupid joke in response.

Y/n, I can't afford to keep buying you all these presents.

Honey, nobody hearts Reims.

Well, I had some grapes for you but I got peckish.

But no, he'd just grumbled some excuse and gone up to their room. They'd won the game too. The last match of the season. Sure, they hadn't won the league but that fate had been sealed weeks ago.

Of course, at the time, she hadn't sat up at night, tossing and turning because her relationship was over. She'd understood. For him, she'd understood.

Then, the trinkets began to come every other away match, then once a month, once every few months, and then they stopped coming. The last remnant of their once-sacred tradition still sat on her fridge. He'd brought it back after an unremarkable league tie against Nice. A little magnet in the shape of a palm tree, in the colours of the French flag, with two words on it.

Trés Nice!

What did that even mean? Neither of them were sure. She loved it.

After that, however, the keyrings, and magnets, and bottle openers, and t-shirts, and pens had suddenly stopped. Not trés Nice!

The bath was full, the bubble bath she'd added working a treat. Slowly, she eased herself into the warm water, sighing as she settled back in the tub. She didn't even have her phone but she really didn't care. For what must have been an hour, she stared out the window at the city below her. From his castle, she watched his kingdom, knowing she didn't have a place in it anymore.

She stared at the dark streets they used to haunt, giggling hand in hand as they snook out of their apartment for late-night strolls (though it was always technically morning) down streets that at any other hour would be packed with hundreds of people, pointing at Kylian. Or when they used to go to tourist attractions in the middle of the winter and he'd pull on a balaclava, dragging her up the Eiffel Tower or the Champs Elysees, insisting her liked the thrill. In truth, so did she.

She liked standing hand in hand with him, knowing the crowds around them had no idea Kylian Mbappé was in their midst, and they never would because he was her Kylian. For that moment, at least.

It was late when she heard the door downstairs, the security system blaring loudly. She didn't panic, as it quickly turned off. He didn't say a word on his arrival. She could hear him drawing closer to their bedroom, his feet heavy on the stairs, in the hallway, in their room, approaching the bathroom door.

She thought he'd let his guard down when they first met, telling her his worries and fears, but maybe he only truly knocked down his walls that night in the bathroom months ago, showing his true self.

Maybe she only truly got to know him after Qatar, when he really snapped. When she'd tried to comfort him and he'd yelled at her because she'd never truly understand what he was going through. She'd told him she was sorry. She'd apologised. For what? She still wasn't quite sure.

Maybe she only truly knew Kylian when she'd been struggling at work, doing overtime to catch up on her ridiculous workload at home. She'd missed his match and he'd lost; then, when he returned home and she hadn't been in the mood for kisses and cuddles, he'd been furious. He'd said it was her fault she was stressed- she'd brought it on herself. She could quit her job any day and never worry about money again. She'd tried to explain but he couldn't comprehend her need for self-reliance. If anything, he was insulted that she didn't trust him enough to let him take care of her. He'd never been overly traditional or had an obviously fragile masculinity but that night she'd questioned everything she thought she knew about him.

Of course, he'd apologised the next morning and she'd forgiven him. They were both stressed and there was no reason to let one pressure-fueled spat escalate into more than it needed to. Then those one-off spats became more and more common until they were the norm. If they weren't in silence, they were fighting.

They only found peace when they were fucking. Even that physicality wasn't what it once was, no longer the same slow, gentle love-making. Now it was always quick, desperate, his once soft kisses now left bruises and his whispers of sweet nothings had morphed into wordless grunts and moans.

Is that all this relationship was anymore? Physical.

Light flooded the dimly-lit bathroom, as he swung the door open carelessly. He looked almost taken back at the sight of her, his eyebrows raising a little, as though he hadn't expected to see her here- in her own house.

Then again, maybe it wasn't her house. Sure, she'd lived here for almost as long as they'd been together but it was never really her house. It was Kylian's house in Kylian's city, and she was here too.

He stared at her for a few seconds before smirking, "Hey." he mumbled, already stripping down to join her.

She sunk further down in the tub, allowing the thick layer of bubbles to give her back her modesty. Silently, she watched him, her lips a flat line, her eyes on his face, not his naked body. He wasn't looking back at her. He was too focused on hastily ripping of his trousers and his shirt.

Without hesitation or any more words exchanged, he climbed in the tub and she leant forward as he slipped behind her. She wanted to be held in his arms just one more time, to feel his body against hers. He positioned his legs on either side of her, his arms flopping over her shoulders, as he pulled her back into his chest. Resting his face on her shoulder, he let out a noise, somewhere between a contented hum and a whine.

She ignored him, turning her head to stare out of the window. The city's skyline was dark and at this time, the tower's lights were off. Now, it was just a dark silhouette against a dark horizon, only made visible by the bright light of the full moon.

"What are you sulking about?"

As he spoke, she could smell the alcohol on his breath and she almost wretched at the scent. Her voice was calm and steady, as she asked, "Where have you been?"

Her voice sounded like she had an innocent curiosity in the question as if she didn't already know the answer, or she was merely asking to make small talk.

"Oh, some of the team wanted to go out to celebrate the win."

He didn't lift his head from her shoulder, placing a soft kiss on the damp skin. He lied with such ease. Well, he hadn't entirely lied, just withheld some important elements of the truth. Maybe she'd have preferred it if he'd just lied to her. At least then he would have had to make a conscious effort to deceive her. No, this felt so much worse; he spoke with such ease, as though it was the whole truth, and maybe he too believed it. Maybe he believed that she didn't need to know about the girl in the red dress, just like he'd believed she didn't need a text back, or a kiss goodbye before he left the house this morning, or a goodnight before she fell asleep last night or the night before that or the night before that.

"And who was that girl?" she asked, her voice still chirpy, not a hint of bitterness showing in her tone.

"Huh?" he twisted his head, the side of it on her shoulder, gazing up at her face.

"The girl you were with. She was in a red dress, like the one I have. Blonde hair and-"

"Oh," he cut her off quickly, "she's one of Ousmane's friends, I think."

"You think?"

"Mhm, I don't really know. I didn't speak to her that much."

Now, that wasn't a half-truth, that was simply a lie.

"Oh, okay. Just 'cause you seemed really friendly with her."

He scoffed, lifting his head, his tone suddenly switching, "What, were you stalking me?"

"No, but you didn't reply to my texts and you came home seven hours after the match finished, so I wanted to make sure you weren't dead in some ditch."

"Of course, I wasn't. Can I not have a night out with my friends?"

"Yeah, that's fine but you didn't fucking text me back and the next thing I see you've got some random girl in your lap at the club and you don't even have the courtesy to tell me about it."

"It wasn't like that! Why would I come home and tell my girlfriend that some nobody had been coming onto me in the club?" he snapped.

"Because you were coming onto her too! Don't you think I deserved to be warned that people were going to post pictures of my boyfriend with someone else! It's fucking humiliating!"

She stood up and climbed out of the bath, wanting to get as far away from him as possible. She quickly grabbed her robe from where it hung and wrap it around herself. She sat on the little ottoman in the corner, hugging her arms around herself.

"What are you saying? You know I wouldn't cheat on you!"

He yelled the statement as though it were a fact. Maybe he believed it. He seemed to believe a lot of things. Maybe he just didn't think about her perspective much.

"No, I don't! What reason have you given me to trust you?"

His face fell into an expression of fury, "What are you talking about?"

"I don't know, Kylian!" she almost yelled and almost sighed, somewhere in the middle, "I don't know. What are we even doing this for?"

"You tell me! You're the one picking a fight for no reason!"

"No, not this just... why are we here? We keep fighting and I don't know what for."

He stood up, "What..."

"I'm not happy! You're not happy! What's the point!"

Wrapping a towel around his waist, he rushed over to her, "I'm happy, of course I am!"

"Well, I'm not." she murmured, standing up from the seat and heading for the bathroom door.

"What are you doing, where are you going?" he asked, panic setting over him.

"Away," she muttered, heading to the closet.

"No, you're not." he declared, chasing after her, "Look, baby, I'm sorry, okay?" Ignoring him, she began to change into some joggers and a hoodie. "Y/n, you're not leaving me."

"Why not? All we ever do is fight! There's no point in us being together if we make each other fucking miserable!"

"I told you, you make me happy! You make me happier than anyone else in the world!"

"Why don't you treat me like it then? Why don't you treat me like I'm worth anything? Like I'm a fucking human being!"

He was quiet, watching her as she grabbed a bag and started to toss clothes into it. "Y/n, I love you. I-"

"Do you, though? Really?"

"I do. Look I know I've been busy with work but you know how stressful my job is. I'm trying to be here for you and do my best for the team-"

"No, you're not. I know how hard you work but I have needs too. I can't keep doing this."

She dropped to her knees, zipping up the bag, packed with enough clothes for a few days. He stood in the doorway, blocking her exit as she tried to get her toothbrush from the bathroom.

As she stood in front of him, he took her hands in his, "Please, baby, I'll change. I'll do it for you, I swear."

"It's too late, Ky," she said, shoving past him. He didn't budge, "Kylian, get out of my way."

He clutched her hands as though his life depended on it, placing soft kisses on both of them, "I need you. You can't leave me."

"You should have thought about that before, shouldn't you?"

She shoved him out of the way and grabbed a few things from the bathroom before heading for the front door. He chased after her, his mind racing and his heart pumping a mile a minute in his chest. He swore it was working so hard he could hear his heartbeat in his ears- or was it the sound of her feet on the stairs?

"Y/n," God, her name sounded so right on his lips, he wanted to say her name forevermore, "she meant nothing. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have entertained her like that." Tears were forming in his hazel eyes, he watched her putting on her shoes, "Y/n, you can't leave me, I love you. I- I don't want to live without you. I don't want to be on my own."

"Kylian," she stood up and cupped his cheek. Her hand was so warm and fit so perfectly around his face, as though it was moulded just for it, "you know I'll always love you."

Covering her hand with his own, he shook his head, a single tear rolling down his cheek, "Don't do this to me, amour."

She hated seeing him like this: he barely ever cried. In all of their time together, she'd seen him cry maybe four times and it had never been because of her.

Her soft thumb wiped away the tear, "Don't cry. You'll be okay."

Then she was gone. The door was open and then it was closed. She was there and then she was gone.

He watched the space she'd been stood in for far too long, as though she'd swing the door open at any moment and declare that she'd had a sudden change of heart. But she wouldn't.

She was gone. It was over.

Masterlist

[angstywaifu]

The Lost Sister - Part 32

Synopsis: Xaden is known as an only child due to his sister who 'died' during the Rebellion. Little do they know she didn't die and has been so close this entire time.

Garrick Tavis x OC (Ophelia Riorson) NSFW, 18+, SMUT, Oral (m receiving), unprotected sex.

The Lost Sister Masterlist | Masterlist

As we land I spy Garrick across the field, crystal egg held high above his head, Dain waving the flag above his head that I had given back on the flight back to the flight field. Nearly every rider in Fourth Wing is rushing towards the pair like they are gods. And to me one of them is. One of them is mine. I can’t help but watch as he’s pulled into one armed hugs, clapped on the shoulder, shaking hands. He’s in his element. And I can’t help but smile at how happy he is.

As if sensing my gaze, Garrick’s hazel eyes snap to mine across the flight field. Not paying a single bit of attention to the riders gathered around him once our eyes meet. Without looking away from me he tosses the egg to Bodhi who stands next to him before pushing through the crowd. Bodhi looks at the egg shocked, as if not expecting Garrick to part with it so easily. Hell the Garrick I knew would never pass on the opportunity to gloat and celebrate the win as the centre of attention. But as Bodhi looks to where Garrick has walked off and see’s me, a massive smirk adorns his face as he shakes his head at us. I had promised Garrick a reward if he got the egg. And that he had done, using Xaden being distracted by Violet’s signet to his advantage. And he was going to get his reward.

The crowd parts easily for Garrick before he even gets close to them. His presence parting the way for him. Creating a path directly towards me as I slowly walk over to him. He rushes forward when only a few feet separate us, his hands cupping my cheeks as he leans down, his lips greedily kissing mine. Not a care in the world that half the quadrant or my brother can see us. The cheers of our friends and fellow cadets fade into a distant hum as we focus solely on each other. Garrick slowly pulls back, his hands still placed firmly on my cheeks as we slowly open our eyes and look at each other.

“That reward still up for grabs?” He asks huskily, his lips ghosting mine.

”Depends whose asking.” I tease, a chuckle rumbling through his body.

Garrick’s right hand lightly drifts down my neck and arm before resting on my waist, pulling me closer into him. His hand digging tightly into the small bit of skin that has become exposed. His hazel eyes fixating on mine.

”You’re boyfriend.” He whispers, his breathing slightly shaky as if he’s nervous. No he is nervous. “Hell, I’d be more if you want it. Whenever you’re ready, say it and I’m all yours sweetheart.”

My eyes go wide as I take in Garrick’s words. But know everything he speaks is true as I feel the love and devotion rolling off him. The strength of his emotions being the strongest I had ever felt since I got my signet. Which was saying something now I could block most of that out with ease, only calling on it when I needed to. As much as I wanted to say yes, say those words to make him mine. I wanted the moment I said those words to be us. Just us. Not in a flight field full of cadets watching us.

”One day.” I say as I reach up and cup his cheek with my hand, Garrick instantly nuzzling into it and placing a kiss to my palm. “I promise I will one day, even though I want to say those words so badly right now.”

He smiles and nods, understanding even if I don’t say it right now, he is mine and I am his. Have been for a very long time.

”But I think I owe someone a reward for capturing a certain egg.” Grabbing Garrick’s hand and leading him off the flight field as a chorus of cheers and whistle follow us down the stairs to the quadrant.

As soon as I shut the door Garrick tries to push me up against it. Eager to take control like he normally would. But not today. Today I had a different plan. A fleeting look of confusion flickers in Garrick’s eyes before widening in shock as I send him stumbling backwards into his desk, his hands bracing on the edge to stop him falling over. I step forward, shrugging off my flight jacket as Garrick watches me intently. I can feel the confusion and curiosity flowing off him as I open my shield to his emotions. Wanting to feel and experience everything he does. Garrick’s throat bobs as I stop in front of him, his eyes flicking down to my hands as I slowly tug on the ties of his pants. Slowly pulling them down his legs as he kicks off his flight boots and removes his jacket and shirt. Leaving Garrick standing in front of my in just his underwear, his arousal very evident.

”Mo Gradh….” He mutters as he looks at me with hooded eyes, reaching out to me to pull him against him.

”Shh… let me take care of you.” I whisper as I hook my fingers into the waistband of his underwear, slowly pulling them down as I kneel in front of him.

Garrick’s eyes go wide as he realises what I’m planning. I had tried before but he had always pulled me up, clearly worried I wouldn’t enjoy it as he wasn’t exactly small.

“Y-you don’t have t-”

I lean forward, tracing the tip of him with my tongue. Garrick’s hand fly's forward to my hair, his fingers tangling in the braid I had done for War Games. I look up to see Garrick looking at me with hooded eyes, lips parted. I keep my eyes locked with his as I swirl my tongue over the tip again before I take him fully. Garrick’s head rolling back, a moan escaping his slightly parted lips.

”F-fuck Ophelia,” Garrick moans as I take him deeper, his fingers tightening in my hair as I take him fully. “F-feels so g-good.”

I can feel Garrick holding back, not fully letting go. Not wanting to lose control. But I wanted him to. I wanted him to . I take him fully again, reaching up a cupping his ball, rolling then gently in his fingers. His hips fully lifting off the desk as a low groan slips past his lips as I hollow out my cheeks. Garrick’s eyes snap open, and I watch as something in him snaps. His composure letting go. His hands move to the end of my braid, throwing away the tie and loosening my hair before gripping it in his hands in a makeshift ponytail. before he sets his own pace as I brace my hands on his thick thighs.

”That’s it sweetheart.” He moans, sending a shiver through me. His words doing more to me than they should. “You’re doing so good.”

Our moans mix together, echoing off the walls of his dorm room. Each thrust becoming more and more urgent as Garrick chases his release. My mouth strains to fit all of him over and over again. But I don’t stop. I panic as my teeth lightly scrape along his length every so often, but he only moans when it happens.

His thrusts start to falter ever so slightly as he gets closer. But suddenly Garrick stops. Pulling me urgently up from the floor, crashing his lips into mine. His hands pushing and pulling at the last of my uniform I hadn’t taken off before taking him in my mouth. Only caring about pleasing him in the moment. Garrick’s hands begin to roam over my body, cupping and squeezing my breasts as he kisses down my neck leaving small love bites along the way. Marking me as his. Not uncommon for him to do. But never on my neck. He wanted these to be seen. He grips the back of my thighs, lifting me up with ease before securing my legs around his waist. I expect him to walk us to the bed. But he walks us over to his desk chair, positioning me directly over him. My fingers digging into his arms as he sits down, lowering me onto him in one smooth movement. My mouth open in a silent moan as I adjust to his size and angle.

”That’s it Mo Gradh.” He whispers in my ear as I bury my head in the crook of his neck. “Good girl.”

Garrick’s hands grip my hips and push me up, my hands tightening on his arms again as he does so before his hips raise to meet mine, my head rolling back. Each thrust hitting just the right spot. Something Garrick had become very good at finding over the last few months. I place my hands on Garrick’s shoulders, using them as leverage as I take over from Garrick’s thrusts. He leans back on the chair, hooded eyes watching as I bounce up and down on him. His hands tightening on my hips whenever I roll my his against his. One of his hands traces along my hip to where we meet, his fingertips slipping back and forth over the slick and swollen nub. My body instantly responding as I clench around him, my head rolling back. Garrick’s hips raise to meet my thrusts, increasing the feeling building up inside me as we move as one. He must sense I’m close as he picks me up and lays me on the desk, staying sheathed inside me with ease. He hooks my legs over his shoulders as his hands raise my hips.

”Oh god.” I moan out as my head thumps against the desk, my hands gripping onto the desk as if my life depends on it.

”No gods here, sweetheart. Just me.” He says with a smirk as he picks up the pace. “But you can worship me if you want. I can be your god.”

I laugh softly at his words, my body trembling as each thrust pushes me closer to the edge. "You're already my everything, Garrick," I whisper, locking my eyes with his as we move in a rhythm that's become as familiar as breathing.

For the second time tonight, I watch something in Garrick snap. Something primal and feral flickering in his eyes. His hips no slamming into me at an ungodly pace that has my eyes rolling back into my head. My fingers digging into the wood of the desk as my release rushes through me, I vaguely register the sound of me screaming Garrick’s name, my name name also falling from his. Garrick scoops me up into his arms, holding me tightly to his chest as he lays us down in his bed. His fingers trailing up and down my back as his beating heart pulls me into a deep sleep.

@riorgail @going-through-shit @fw-gt @bbkissme99 @xceafh @leptitlu @came-to-laugh-but-cried @onthewaytotimbuktu @daardyrnitta @lovemesomevesey @mxtokko @krowiathemythologynerd @callsign-blue @1islessthan3books @side-angel @wolfbc97 @just-an-ace-elf

[dilucsfav]

have you ever made a fanfic of the reader being a dom to people who are least expected to be a sub, example is dottore since people think he's a dom or even zhongli?

NO IVE ACTUALLY NOT REALLY THOUGHT ABOUT SOMETHING LIKE THIS?? well i have but never acted on such deed (no shame in the sinning game)

I had lots of fun with this! ive never written for some of these characters before so this was a challenge :) PLEASE TELL ME IF YALL WANT A FEMALE VERSION, THERE ARE SO MANY DOMMY MOMMY CHARACTERS I COULD WRITE ABT

also,,, should i do this with very sub/switch genshin men, except them being dom to the reader instead?? like for example kaeya, tighnari, xiao, childe, scara YES SCARA IS A FUCKING SWITCH DONT EVEN ARUGE WITH ME

idk y’all should let me know anyways here’s your guys’ meal of men tonight

dom reader x genshin men hcs & scenarios (ft. dottore, zhongli, cyno, alhaitham, diluc, dain, ayato)

warning(s): LOTS of nsfw,,, actually mainly that tbh LMFAO

Dottore

at first, he'd only let you toy w/ him cuz he thought it was cute and he could easily tease you about it later

but shocker... you actually end up flustering him in the process. dummy fooled himself tbh

actually he was quite surprised that you were able to suade him with your words and body language

"Oh, doctor... don't keep me waiting...!" you'd moan and cry, grab his shirt collar and yank him to your lips, teasing his throat with your thumb and giving his body glances

made his little act crack SO fast

you'd easily get some neck kisses in while he's dazed, his flustered face staring ahead as his hands hesitate to wrap around your pretty hips

bro is high key into biting?? like definitely would allow you to squeeze a hickey or 2 in

oh, youre a big sweet talker?? good, use that to your advantage cuz you could REALLY tease this harbinger through facial expressions and super good fucking persuasive language

^^the tone of your voice... mhm that's what makes him crack

his throat between your fingers and a smirk on your lips as you kiss the tall, flustered man. literally he doesnt know what to do LMAO

HE'D COVER IT UP TOO LMAO CUZ BEING VULNUERABLE IS TOO EMBARASSING FOR THIS DICK FACE

every time you try to bring it up he'd instantly deny his reaction

^^"I was not flustered. I was just allowing you to have some fun."

dw doctor daddy, we all know ur a fucking dirty lier

call him a good boy, see what he does

Zhongli

yeah so- this man probably folds so easily over you

spoiling this big baby with kisses will result in his blushing mess of a face. trust me.

"My dear Zhongli, hush. Please let me do this for you."

^^barely takes any begging from your part. he'd allow you to spoil him any day

secretly just loves it but shh you dont know that <3

every kiss and peck and hhhhh will just make his blush grow

bonus points if you include inappropriate touching

"im the geo archon" this, "im rex lapis" that...... but how about we talk about his moans when you pull his fucking hair?

(or the crack in his voice when he's begging you to do the nasty w/ him)

^^ or his whimpers when you give him hickies?? he'd ABSOLUTELY be into marking, and you cant change my whore ass mind

stop cuz when you fluster him he instantly becomes so submissive its literally so funny

he would literally convince you with his fucking noises HES SO VOCAL JUST LIKE ITTO

(actually now that i think about it, the only geo character that wouldnt be vocal would be albedo? god hes so fucking hot i need to write for him soon

you being all cute n shit is enough for his breath to be taken away. hes so so in love w/ you hhhhhhhhhh

Cyno

cyno is literally so fucking daddy he makes me-

your actions would fluster him. i dont think he'd ever admit it, or be super vocal about liking it, but he'll never try to stop you (cyno is such a manwhore i'd fuck him so fast yall dont even try me)

yall ever thought about cyno's STRONG love for riding? no? hahah,,,.............

well i fucking have.

^^he would just lay back and let you ride him omfg me next pls

^^...perhaps small thumb rubs into the side of your thigh to encourage you to keep going. only if youre lucky ofc gotta be grateful

"Ah, Cyno... gonna be a good boy for me and let me f-fuck you? Hm, mm?"

phew the reader is kinda hot idk, kinda want them to dominate me instead of cyno

OMG STOP THIS ISNT NSFW OR ANYTHING BUT HE'D GET SO FLUSTERED N HAPPY IF YOU LAUGH AT HIS SHITTY FUCKING JOKES. HE'D BLUSH AND GET ALL NERVOUS AND HAPPY HELP

(this is random, has nothing to do with the fucking hcs, but yall seen that tighnari x cyno nsfw drawing on twitter where kaveh spends the night w/ them and tighnari is riding cynos dick with kaveh trying to sleep next to them? and kaveh is like "i wanna go home..." no? just me? k.)

would probably get flustered if you two are making out and you use tongue. idk cynos a little silly. definitely weird ass would let you spit and lick all over him and he’d thank you, what a manwhore

Alhaitham

who wouldve ever imagined a submissive haitham? not me for sure

he'd literally gasp when youre being dominant and teasing his pretty cock

chokes on his words. he'd probably let you choke him with a necklace, collar, or just something around his neck that you could pull

oh you thought i was joking? no.

"be a good boy, now, Haitham. only good boys get rewards. Do you think you deserve it?"

^^as you’re pulling the bidings against his neck

ok personally alhaitham isnt my type, but if ur taking submissive alhaitham...?... i may. MAY. SLIGHTLY jog for him

jokes on him, you'd get a such a rise and pleasure from his submissive ass

unfortunately... we have yet another victim of the big tiddy game. he'd totally want you to touch all over his man titties

^^not even just the boobs, he turns into an absolute slut when you praise his body

trace your fingers all over his abs and watch him get off so fast LMAO

when i die, i hope i dont get to the gates of heaven and get dragged down to hell cuz i like writing about silly little submissive men getting hard

I FEEL LIKE HE ALSO JUST WOULDNT KNOW WHAT TO DO?? SO WHILE YOURE DOING YOUR THING N SHIT HE’D KINDA JUST STARE AT YOU? flustered haitham at a loss for words, how cute 💔💔

hear me out hear me out. he’d praise you sm but in like a “please keep going im gonna cum” submissive type of way? you know what i mean?

ngh imagine his face getting all pathetic and weak god ngh im no slut for alhaitham but god

Diluc

I LOVE YOU DILUC, PLEASE LET ME CALL YOU MY GOOD BOY AND MY DARKNIGHT HERO AND ALL THAT CORNY SHIT

anyways

i rarely see any sub diluc fics i need to fix that soon BUT ANYWAYS

when hes being bossed around by you he'd become such a whore but in such a respectful way

HE'D ABSOLUTELY SAY "yes sir/ma'am" when youre the dom GOODDDKDKDD

he' take your wrists whilst he’s on his knees, staring up at you, waiting patiently for you to command him

im drooling as im writing these for diluc btw btw

he's not really used to such attitude but he wont question it in the moment CUZ HE LOVES THE ATTENTION

hear me out, HEAR ME OUT.

^^^ ….ive always headcanoned this, but diluc is definitely NOT a dirty talker (i strongly believe this fight me) or tbh i don’t think he’s that good of a talker during sex either way

^^^ but hear me out. imagine he’s like fucking you, but your fingers are holding the back of his ponytail to keep his face jerked forward, where your lips are just touching his ear lobe while you praise him and whisper sweet nothings into his ear?

ARE YOU FUCKING LISTENING ARE YOU HEARING ME OUT, DONT TELL ME HE WOULDNT FOLD AND GET FLUSTERED FROM PRAISE

“Mmm, oh s-so good for me! Keep it going, ahh, just like that. That’s my Diluc.”

drooling sweating crying sobbing and

i think he’d totally be down bad for some soft dom… like you praising him, commanding him and being rough with him, but at the same time so lovingly and gently?? yes pls hes totally down

Dainsleif

y’all dain simps are some other type of down bad fr (that’s a good thing i promise)

absolutely another victim of loving riding. absolutely. HE’D BE A BOTTOM SO FAST IF THAT MEANT HE WAS ABOUT TO BE RODE FR

dain would whimper. im literally so right

this has nothing to do with him being submissive but why the hell would he sweat so fucking much during sex? idk i love dain but he looks so musty IM SORRY IT HAD TO BE SAID

not trying to dain slander im sorry im just nervous ive never written for him b4💔💔

call him a bad boy and naughty and tease him just a bit and he’ll fold

honestly i think teasing him just would make him so antsy, so on edge, so desperate and impatient, he would just get all whiney and flustered and such a manwhore

HES THE FUCKING DEFINITION OF MANWHORE LETS BE HONEST HERE

push him against the mattress, maybe even yank his hair a little and tell him he’s a piece of shit that needs to beg for attention and to be kissed by your gorgeous lips

stop if you gave him a blowjob and tease him until he can’t take it just imagine tears staining his cheeks while he’s begging you to give him a break

HE WOULD CALL YOU MOMMY/DADDY. HE ABSOLUTELY WOULD YOU LITERALLY CANNOT CHANGE MY MIND IDFC

he’d curse from overstimulation, prolly screaming “shit” 80 million times and “fuck” every time you chuckle or smirk at his desperate ass

“Oh, you want me to stop? When you begged and pleaded me to touch you badly, Dain?”

^^ i can imagine you listened and stopped, but then he’d get sad and beg for it again LMAO

such a mess for you and wouldn’t try hiding it tbh

Ayato

okay im actually so excited to write for him, ive never written for ayato but i’m not really into ayato im sorry guys (i like his sister though)

It kinda startled him a bit when your fingers grazed his chest and you pinned him against a wall—

would actually kinda fight it at first?? but he also wouldn’t after a while cuz he looks down on everybody and thinks he’s better than everybody else LMFAO live laugh love ayato

anyways,,, when you’ve got him between your fingertips, instantly you become royalty to him.

you are called either ma’am/sir, or you’re called my lady/prince/your majesty

^^or some shit like that idfk ayato’s fucking wild as hell

hear me out… ayato’s absolutely, 100%, definitely, into sucking your fingers

just imagine you’re going to town on his dick and you shove your fingers down his throat to make him stop crying so fucking loud

god and he’s totally into it pls— sucking on your fingers so good so that he’s quiet just for you🙏

“Hush up, Ayato. You don’t want Thoma to hear you when you’re this vulnerable to me, do you?”

bro would gag and cry and grip your body and and

he’d so rough, dirty, submissive, but just like diluc, in a respectful way

imagine brushing your thumb on his beauty marks and the little moles he has— his heart would skip a beat

dw, you and ayato wouldn’t have to worry abt bothering anybody cuz im fucking thoma in the next room

[mondaymelon]

— 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝘀𝗶𝗰𝗸 ♥ 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗼𝗻𝘀!

:with blonde genshin men!: (kaveh + albedo + dainsleif x gn!reader)

KAVEH is immediately all over you.

and when he’s not constantly making sure you’re comfortable, he’s busy fluffing your pillows and making sure you have plenty of blankets. 

takes your temperature every 10 minutes… and freaks out if it’s gone up a degree. constantly convinced you’re going to die, bursts into tears periodically, no matter how much you reassure how much otherwise.

and if he’s really desperate, he might even call the help of haitham himself! kaveh really does try to cook for you, but… well it turned out more of a charred mess. how he burned soup, of all things, you don’t even want to imagine.

“huu… i’m such a terrible boyfriend. i can’t even manage to make you one bowl of soup…” kaveh sniffles, crimson eyes teary as he holds your hand apologetically.

“there's no need to be. you did good.”

“not good enough!!” ah, and now he’s crying again… “now you’re going to die off on me and  i can’t do a thing about it!!”

“i’m not going to…” you sheepishly stare at his crestfallen form.

“i-i’m going to miss you…” ♥

(imagine his surprise when you recover in a week, completely well and alive)

ALBEDO understands the fragility of human life well, despite not being one himself.

so he’s naturally concerned when you fall ill. although he doesn’t show it, he’s doing quite a lot of work behind the scenes, working with sucrose to come up with medicines for you!

but when he’s not semi-frantically trying to find a cure to whatever (probably not very serious) sickness you’re dealing with, he tries his best to care for you! albedo’s certainly better at alchemy than cooking, but that said, he’s not bad at it at all. he’ll insist on hand-feeding you his meals, saying that you should save your energy on recovering, despite the barely noticeable flush on his face.

“open wide.” albedo smiles softly, gaze warm as he lifts a spoon to your mouth.

“albedo- you really don’t need to-”

“sshh.” placing a finger to your lips, he grins, speaking again:

“seeing you like this makes me feel like you need me.” ♥

DAINSLEIF hates seeing you like this, shivering, weak, and vulnerable.

it reminds him of darker memories, of himself, and it scares him.

because his past hurt him, left scars that would never heal, and although he knows that what you’re facing right now isn’t the same, it doesn’t ease the paranoid ache in his heart.

but when he’s around you, the pain and his curse seems to lift - if only slightly. and to see his favorite person like this… in that sickly state he immediately gets to work. he prepares fresh blankets, feeding you medicine and food, burning healing incense that he’s bought from the liyue marketplace, doing just about anything and everything to ensure that you’re feeling okay. he stays by your side from the moment you wake up and until you fall asleep, despite on your insistence to take a break:

“dain, you need rest too…”

“right now, you matter more.” ♥

(a/n) shdfjlkgj im sick

[reginrokkr]

𝐗𝐂. Threat through telepathic connections because of the Sinner.

Considering seriously how the mention of the Sinner may be the only moment Dain has felt threatened that we've seen him thus far and how abruptly Caribert's AQ was cut short unlike other AQs that had Dain's involvement. It gets particularly concerning to me the way the Sinner addresses to him with such familiarity by using his moniker and it rises the question to me if he might be at least one of the reasons (if not the only one) behind Dain's corruption. As we know that body decay is a result of the curse of immortality and corruption are two different things, the latter seems to put a stop to body decay at the cost of one's psyche with everything that involves coming from the Abyss.

[iaminfourthwing]

The Generals Daughter

Chapter II

Silence takes over the courtyard as Commandant Panchek stands stunned on the dais in the front. “Come again, rider? How dare you interrupt-“

The boy steps to the side, revealing my lingering figure behind him and the mans face pales instantly when his eyes find my glaring ones. Fear strikes his face.

Damn, I know that my father is scary, and his reputation is ahead of him but that the higher ups still shit their pants when they see me will never not surprise me. That makes me think … how many people around here, besides the Commandant, did father informed that I'll join Basgiath this year?

“A-ah Cadet! I-it’s great to see you’ve made it safely across the Parapet.” Did he- did he just stutter?! My face surely must show amusement because he tries to hide his nervousness and fear with a shit eating grin. If one word describes this man, then it’s pathetic.

He turns to another third year I know all too well – Fen Riorsons son, Xaden. The bane of my father’s existence. He already warned me about my future wingleader and the other “marked ones”.

Xaden looks good though, even with the confused frown on his face that almost everyone up there wears since I arrived with the rider next to- oh well. Not next to me anymore. He must have went off to find his squad.

I can feel the stares on me and hear the whispers of the other cadets on me, while my glare is still fixated on the persons up the dais. My bet is, Panchek tells them who I am and that they discuss which wing I’ll join, even though General Melgren and Sorrengail made it crystal clear where I'll be going.

Suddenly Xaden tenses and throws a quick glance over his shoulder with fury in his eyes to which I only lift an eyebrow in question when our eyes meet. Then he turns back to the others and nods.

The crowd is waiting patiently for them to finish up and it’s Panchek who steps forward again.

“As I was saying, three hundred and two of you have survived the Parapet to become cadets today,” he wears that political slimy smile again. “Good job. Sixty-seven did not.”

Well, that’s unfortunate. My guess is that the weather had a big impact on those numbers, but it could have been that asshole that threw other candidates from the Parapet down like he owns the place. A shiver runs down my spine while thinking he lingers around somewhere, possibly making friends that are as crazy as him. Shits about to get real when my name is revealed, and I don`t know what I should hope for, but I fear the worst.

He talks about the Codex and what we should expect during our first year while he gestures wildly with his hands. All talk, no bite this man. I had the unfortunate luck to meet him more than just once through my father’s career and I did not enjoy his company any fucking minute. He is annoying as hell and wants General Sorrengails position first, and then my fathers. As if that would ever happen, when father’s signet is one of the most important on the continent and when he has Codagh.

“… My best advice? Don’t die.” Easier said than done.

He walks off the dais with his executive commandant in tow but not without throwing a quick glance my way. Please just go away.

A brunette woman steps forward and calls out the section and squad leaders to take their positions. While finding their place in the front, Dain Aetos eyes meet mine over the distance, his eyebrows furrowed as he tries to study me, nice try buddy. He stands in the section of Second Wing; I think he is squad leader for Flame Section if I recall right.

We met each other over a year ago through Violet, since he is or was her best friend. I never liked him, too much of a “we have to strictly follow the rules” guy. But he isn't really fond of me too, thinks I am a bad influence on Violet.

One by one, cadets find their way into formation and soon Second Wing is called.

“Violet Sorrengail. Second Squad! Flame Section! Second Wing!”

Thank god's she is alive, but wait- those were not General Sorrengails orders!!? This is really bad and after finding said girl in the masses she seems to be relieved, but when I let my gaze fall on Dain again– oh? I see how it is. He must have something to do with this, because he has the audacity to smirk when his eyes find mine again. But I know it better than him, he won't be laughing for long.

Violet and her friend (?) walk over to their assigned squad and take place into formation. Third Wing is called and after that Fourth Wing. Time to shine – or not. I am one of the last cadets to be called into formation.

“Arya Melgren. Second Squad! Flame Section! Fourth Wing!” Xaden calls out.

There are more than just a few startled gasps and shocked whispers of my last name.

Only a handful of carefully selected people, mostly leadership, my teachers/trainers plus Violet and Dain, know about my existence, so I am not surprised that the majority here had no fucking clue that General Melgren has a daughter. Even the wingleader, beside Riorson, and their executives look uncomfortable.

I quickly make my way into formation while Xaden is busy studying Violet, trying to find out how the fuck he gets her into Fourth Wing and with the little tilt of his head I think he figured out what to do. He turns his back to the crowd to talk to the wingleader of Second Squad, and then the other two wingleader joins what seems to be a heated discussion. Whispers fills the Rotunda as everyone is waiting for further instructions from their leaders. They turn back and Xadens smirk tells me he got what he wanted. Thank fuck, I wouldn’t want to be in General Sorrengails wrath when she finds out that her daughter would have been somewhere else than the assigned wing.

“Dain Aetos, you and your squad will switch with Aura Beinhaven’s,” Nyra orders. My squad.

“Follow me” Beinhaven says and steps forward with her squad following. Well, everyone but me, I have specific orders from above. And while my now ex-squad gives me confused stares as they're passing me, Xaden and I share a quick glance. He nods once and I know, I stay where I am, about to join Aetos squad.

Aetos and his squad find their way into my direction, the squad leader at the front.

“Aetos” I greet him with a grin on my lips, arms crossed. I`ll annoy the fuck out of him this year, this will be so much fun. “Melgren,” he replies with a frown on his face, “I believe your squad is now in Second Wing.”

“I am right where I belong to. Fourth Wing, Flame Section, Second Squad. Those were the orders” I say, my gaze hardening to underline what I am hinting at. Realization crosses his face, and he grows uncomfortable under my glare.

“Into formation, Second Squad!” he orders with a hiss when he notices cadets lingering around.

Violet and her friend find their place next to me, greeting me with a gentle smile which I gladly return. “Arya, I am glad to see you.” “Same goes for you, Silver One. I am happy to see you made it safely.”

The dark tanned girl next to her scoffs at my response, which confuses me. “Hardly” she murmurs.

My eyes find Violets blue ones with question marks all over my face. She leans over and whispers “A guy from now First Wing tried to kill me after throwing another candidate down the Parapet, Jack Barlowe is his name” in my ear. Oh shit, that must have been the asshole I saw earlier when I observed the candidates.

Eyes widening, I quickly scan her for possible injuries but to my relief, I find none.

“Quiet” Dain hisses in front of us.

Our focus shifts back up the dais where Xaden steps forward. Violet tenses as she keeps eye contact with our wingleader. I take her hand into mine to ease her nerves, which doesn`t goes unnoticed by her friend. Shit, I need to ask Vi for her name before I embarrass myself.

“Rhiannon Matthias” the girl whispers to which I send a thankful nod and a gentle smile, getting a grin back in return.

“You’re all cadets now,” Xadens voice caries out over the formations. “Take a look at your squad. These are the only people guaranteed by Codex not to kill you. But just because they can’t end your life doesn’t mean others won’t. You want a dragon? Earn one.”

Some cadets cheer like they already have a dragon, but the three of us stay quiet. There is nothing to cheer about in this hellhole.

I space out while Xaden edges the crowd but along the cheers … there is something different. It’s not just cheering, that`s-

“Oh gods, they are beautiful” Rhiannon whispers as my gaze shifts to the sky. There they are – the dragons belonging to the leadership of the Riders Quadrant.

Unbelievably gorgeous and incredibly deadly at the same time. It’s always unsettling to be around Codagh, since he is the biggest dragon on the continent and given our history, but Sgaeyl, Xadens dragon – she is undeniable fascinating and terrifying. Especially when she stares into Violets eyes like she wants to eat her.

A cadet bolds out of formation, screaming and trying to get away from here. All hell breaks loose.

[x-bluefire-heart-x]

Dance at a Feast

Happy New Year everyone! The good thing about having two weeks off from work is that I am able to get some writing done! I'm trying to get drafts done for a lot of fics I have plans for, so I can have some things to post when I go back to work.

Also, please feel free to make requests! I have a list of prompts which is linked below, and a master list that has the fandoms and characters I write for. If there is someone and a something not listed that would like to make a request for, feel free to and I will let you know if I know enough about it to write for it. Also feel free to make requests for this verse!

This is another part in the Covered in Steam verse. A fluffy piece between female reader and Thorin, it is set after Covered in Steam.

Warnings: Talks of a sexual nature. Dain being disrespectful - nothing insane just not acknowledging the reader as the Queen *yes I think this should be a warning*

Tag list: @catt-leya @bunson-burner

Master List

Prompt List

Covered in Steam

You fiddled with the sleeves of your dress tugging them down before pulling them back up and then down again. You glanced at the mirror in Thorin’s, no your chamber you hadn’t slept in the chamber that was yours since that night. You wore a beautiful gown in the colours of the family of Durin, the blue almost matched that of your Kings eyes. Your hair had been left down showcasing the braids and beads that Thorin wove into it every morning. You were nervous, this was the first feast since you were behaving as a true married couple. And you didn’t want to do anything that would embarrass Thorin. Which was why you were concerned about the dress, the shoulders of the dress could sit normally or be pulled down to expose your shoulders and collarbones, and the plunging neckline was lower than what you normally wore but it worked the best with the necklace Thorin had gifted you with on the day you got married, and you hadn’t worn it yet.

“Sister?” you heard Dis’ voice call out from the sitting room next to the bedroom where Thorin received any guests that came to your chambers.

“In here!” you called back, shifting the bodice of the dress a little, unsure about the gauzy material that ran in panels down your ribs before forming into the princess style skirt.

“Oh my,” Dis whispered as she laid eyes on you. “I think you may very well kill my brother in that dress.”

“Is it too much?” you spun around eyes wide with concern as you smoothed down the billowing skirts. “It’s a normal style in my homeland but I know it isn’t overly common amongst the women here.”

“You look stunning my Queen,” Dis assured you as she came to stand in-front of you grabbing your hands. “You do not need to pretend as if the culture and norms of your homeland do not exist, my brother would not expect you to only dress as a dwarven woman.”

“I know he has told me as such, but I just don’t want to…embarrass him in-front of his court, especially since everything between us is still so new,” you nibbled your lower lip before yelping a little as Dis pinched your arm.

“You’ll ruin the makeup,”  

“Can’t have that can I?” you laughed, your nerves slowly leaving you in your sister in laws presence. Something she has always managed to do.

“Now, come on,” Dis tugged on you before stopping for a moment. “Wait, you are missing something.” She let go of your hand to go back to your dressing table and lifted the small crown from its resting place to put it on your head. “There.”

You lifted your hand to gently touch the crown as Dis went back to tugging you out of your rooms and towards the main banquet hall. You were still not use to wearing a crown, as you and Thorin both only tended to wear them when you absolutely had to. Such as at a feast welcoming Thorin’s cousin Dain. You could hear the celebrations before the door even came into view, you smiled. Dwarrow truly knew how to throw a feast and celebration.

“Introducing her Highness Princess Dis and her Royal Majesty Queen y/n,” the herald at the doorway announced both you and Dis causing the court to become quiet as Thorin stood from his chair and walked around the table that housed the royals. His eyes burned with a fire as he took in your appearance, you could feel the eyes of every dwarf on you as the king walked towards you and Dis quickly left your side to greet her sons. You could only guess the dwarf sitting on Thorin’s left was his cousin Dain, Lord of the Iron Hills. You briefly caught his eyes only to quickly break eye contact and focus on your husband. Dain had the same colour eyes as Thorin only his were cold and calculating, and you did not like the way he looked at you.

“My wife,” Thorin rumbled, this voice bouncing around the room. “You are a vision.”

You dropped into a small curtsy as your body warmed, your eyes locking onto his as you lifted your head back up. Thorin stepped closer to you to place a kiss upon your lips before gently taking your hand, guiding you to stand in-front of his cousin, who remained seated.

“Cousin, my wife, your Queen,” Thorin’s voice was hard as stone as he noticed the disrespect being shown to you. “Greet her.” Dain’s eyes narrowed before a friendly mask fell over his face as he stood and bowed low to you.

“It’s an honour to finally meet you, Your Majesty,” Dain’s voice didn’t sound overly pleased and you were concerned but you nodded back at him regardless, knowing now was not the time to raise concerns.

“And it is lovely to finally meet you Lord Dain, Thorin has spoken highly of you,” you responded voice soft, your eyes looking at a point over his shoulder as you didn’t want to look into his cold eyes again.

“Come my Queen, you must be hungry,” Thorin’s arm wrapped around your waist and led you away. You smiled gratefully up at Thorin raising on your toes to press your lips to his cheek in thanks. His arm squeezed you in kind, his eyes full of love as he stared down at you.

“Hello aunty mine,” Kili smiled up at you as you walked past. You grinned down at him, unable to resist messing up his hair. Kili pouted up at you as he tried to fix his hair, you dropped a kiss on his head in apology as you did the same to Fili as you walked past. Dis’s sons had been as welcoming as she had when you arrived, always smiling and including you, you were forever grateful for those three Durin’s.

“Aunty,” Fili smiled as you sat down beside him, Dis was in the middle of her two sons, who leaned around her oldest to smile at you. “Don’t worry about Dain. He’s a traditionalist but Uncle doesn’t pay any mind to those old dwarves.” Fili had lowered his voice and leant close to your side. His eyes, the same shade as his uncle was soft and kind as he looked at you. Your heart squeezed at his words.

“Thank you Fili,” you whispered back. “I will keep that in mind.”

“But, should he or any other dwarf look to cause you problems promise that you will let myself, my mother, Kili, Dwalin or Balin know. Of course Thorin should be your first choice but if you cannot find him, you also have us on your side,” Fili added squeezing your arm before letting go and focusing on his food.

You could hear the conversations going on around you as you picked at your food. You never ate much in-front of large crowds, but would always find a plate of food waiting for you in your chambers after a feast. You had always wondered who ensured the staff left it but never thought to investigate it too much.

“Are you alright love?” Thorin asked removing himself from the conversation with Dain to check on you. He had picked up on your added nerves after meeting Dain and wanted to do everything he could to be sure that you were fine.

“I am,” you nodded turning to give Thorin a smile but you could tell from the look on his face that he didn’t buy it. He leaned close enough to whisper into your ear.

“If I had known Dain would show such disrespect to my wife I would never had invited him here,” Thorin promised you. “Tell me at once if he ever does so again or makes you uncomfortable at all. Erebor if your home and you are the Queen.”

“You Durin’s and your need to protect,” you teased nudging your nose against his.

“Oh?”

“Fili just gave me a list of all the dwarves I can tell if Dain or any other dwarf causes me problems,” you explained. “It was pretty much you four and Dwalin and Balin.”

“Hmm,” Thorin hummed his eyes full of pride at your words. “Well, us Durin’s are fiercely protective of those we care about. And once we care for someone it is next to impossible to get rid of us. So I’m afraid my heart, you are stuck with me, and my sister and nephews.”

“Such an imposition that,” you laughed.

“You weren’t thinking I was an imposition this morning,” Thorin growled his eyes darkening as heat filled them. “With my tongue between your thighs.”

“Thorin,” you gasped in shock. “You can’t say things like that here.”

“I am the King,” Thorin shrugged kissing your lips and whispering his next words into your mouth. “I can say such things when I please. And no-one can hear us.”

You playfully glared at him about to say something back when Dain interrupted leaning around Thorin to gain his attention again, sending you a cold look before placing the mask back in place before Thorin could see. Thorin kissed you once more rounding on his cousin, you could hear the harshness in his tone as he spoke in dwarvish. You sipped at your wine, as music started to play, as it always does at a Dwarven feast. The boys beside you quickly stood up looking to find some partners to dance with, Kili raced off instantly looking for Ori. Fili however, hesitated, Dis had left seeking out Balin to discuss some matters.

“My Queen,” Fili said, his voice loud and pointed as he bowed low at his waist holding a hand out. “May I have a dance?”

You grinned up at Fili, standing up and reaching to take his hand but you were pulled tightly against a hard chest. Thorin’s scent surrounding you. Fili smirked, his eyes playfully challenging his uncle, as he continued to wait on your hand.

“My wife will be dancing with me first, nephew,” Thorin’s voice rumbled.

“I think Her Majesty can make that decision, Uncle,” Fili grinned.

“I am honoured Prince Fili,” you grinned, trying to keep your voice regal. “However, I would think you would prefer to seek out someone else to dance…and even maybe court?”

Fili’s face flushed bright red his eyes automatically going towards a dwarven woman that was standing off to the side near Bofur. The look in his eyes was similar to how Thorin would look at you and you knew that maybe you and Dis could do a little pushing.

“I mean…I can’t…” Fili stuttered in an uncommon show of nerves.

“Yes you can nephew,” you encouraged him stepping a little out of the circle of Thorin’s arms but he kept a hold of your hips. “I have seen that young woman look at you, in the same manner you look at her. You are a Durin, take the courage that all you Durin’s seem to possess in enough abundance to take on a Dragon and ask her to dance.”

You felt Thorin’s hands squeeze your hips and his lips pressed into your neck, you could feel the smile that tugged at them. You reached out to squeeze Fili’s hands, forcing his eyes back to yours. The red of his face had calmed down to a light pink.

“Right, yes, true,” Fili nodded.

“You are my heir Fili,” Thorin added reaching out to pat him on the shoulder. “You can do this.”

Fili nodded once more before he turned around and strode towards the woman in question. He forced the Durin swagger into his steps as the two of you watched him in amusement. Thorin tugged you close again turning you around, you smiled up at him wrapping your arms around his neck.

“So, that dance?” you asked. “Better make good.”  

“Come along then,” Thorin smirked. Pushing you backwards, you giggled turning around and taking hold of his hand and pulling him onto the space in the middle of the room that was used for dancing.

Thorin spun you around before tugging you close, wrapping his right arm around your waist and grabbing your right hand with his left, you placed your left hand on his shoulder. You allowed him to led you around the floor trusting him to keep you from backing into anyone. The tune was a fast past one, your skirt flying out every time he spun you around quickly. He grabbed both of your hips and lifted you up and turning the two of you before putting you back down and grabbing hold of your hand again to lead you around.

You giggled as your dress managed to hit Kili and Ori on your way past them, you threw an apology over Thorin’s shoulder causing the two young Dwarves to laugh. Thorin couldn’t take his eyes off of you, your eyes were bright with happiness and you had not stopped laughing and smiling since Fili had first asked you for a dance. Your face was flush from your wine and from the dancing, you had danced to two fast paced songs before a slow paced song started to play. Thorin wrapped both his arms around your waist pulling you as close to him as he could get you. You looped your arms around his neck, using one of your hands to tilt his head down, he grinned as he rested his forehead against yours and swayed the two of you in time with music.

“You truly do look beautiful tonight, my Lady,” Thorin whispered. “Seeing you in my colours, I wish to take you from this hall and feast on something else entirely.”

“My King, was this morning and last night not enough?” you asked, stroking the back of his neck, his thick hair covering your movements.

“I will never have enough of you,” Thorin answered. “I will never have enough of your taste, of your body, of you. I will always want you in my arms.”

[garricks4thwingqueen]

My Little One (I'll Do Anything For You) Garrick Tavis X OC

This is an idea that I'm grabbing from one of my dreams. Garrick girls well be feed well from me. He has a chock hold on my heart.

Synopsis: It was never easy being Amber Melgren the daughter of none other than the General Melgren himself. Amber was about to start her first year at Basgiath War College and she knew this wasn't going to be an easy thing to do with her last name and having to eventually face her ex who she hadn't seen since he started last year. Her ex was also her father's ideal match for Amber. Amber was used to these high standards from her father but started to feel more rebellious as she got older especially after losing her family member, she had the most love from at the age of 13, (which was her mother.) One of her father's strictest rules given to Amber before she had to start her first year had reminded her what he told her several years ago which was to not fall in love with any of those rebellion children.

Fic is still in the works!

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of parent death, swearing, hinted at smut.

Word Count: 917

Part 1:

I stood alone in the training room flicking dagger after dagger at the target on the wall. I kept missing everyone of my targets even though I knew I could hit it spot on, after all I spent my whole life training to be a dragon rider, I mean what else are you expected to do when your general Melgren’s daughter? It was now September and my ex had barely said a word to me since I started my first year at Basgiath this past July. Dain had started  a year ahead of me. We were dating for almost a year before he started, however he broke up with me the night before he had to cross the parapet. He's been breathing down Violet's neck and his avoiding me honestly didn't even bother me until he spoke up in sparring when my squad leader volunteered to spare me when my assigned partner ended up being sick. Garrick knew what I was capable of, Dain apparently not so much. I didn't even notice the door to the training room open until I felt a hand on my waist and one on my wrist. “A little more flick of the wrist and then you’ll have your target.” Garrick Tavis breathed softly behind me, flicking my wrist forward. I turned once the knife hit dead center “Blasting off steam cadet? I don't think I'd want to be the face of whoever you were envisioning.” Garrick chuckled. “Dain.” I replied well aware both of Garrick's hands now rested on my waist and neither of us had made any move to step away from each other. “Dain?” Garrick questioned with a raised eyebrow. “Long story.” I sighed. “I've got time.” Garrick said motioning to the bench. “We used to date it basically approached a year almost to date the night before he started here then he called it quits the same night. Not to mention that earlier was even the first time this year that he even looked in my direction. Pretending like he still cares, even though he's basically been shoved up Violet's ass since we started this year. I felt Garrick’s calloused hand reach up and cup my face. “You deserve better then him anyways.” He said his finger was now softly rubbing my cheek. “Gare.” I sighed quietly before our lips slightly brushed each other, before it became deeper & more intimate as Garrick now pulled me on his lap. “Amber”  he breathed as we stopped for air. “That was.” I started to say. “Incredible.” Garrick said softly. “Yeah.” I said with a heavy sigh, knowing how wrong this was. “My Father would flip if he ever found out about us.” I said with a quiet voice burying my face into his shoulder. “That's a risk I'm willing to take.” I started to trace his rebellion Relic that ran down the length of his arm; which was given to him and all the other rebellion children by my father's dragon Codah; when their parents committed acts of treason against Navarre. “Gare if anything ever happened to you because of me or because of my father.” I said quietly, “Look at me.” He whispered, lifting my chin up. “You're different from your father; me giving you extra training and spending extra time with you wasn't just for sparring purposes; our flirtatious banty moments were real and I think we both know I can hold my own.” He said with a smirk on his face. “Gare it's more complicated than that.” “Try me princess.” He said softly. I sighed “You really are stubborn aren't you Tavis?” “Give it all to me.” He said. Sighing and resting my head against Garrick's shoulder “It all changed after my mom died. He was never hard on training me at all as she lightened him, I was 13 when she passed due to her dragon being injured. Up until then I actually hoped I was going to end up in infantry. Training started slow and then he got stationed with Colonel Aetos and had me and Dain training almost constantly. After the rebellion surprisingly he lit up a bit, not without giving me a warning to never fall in love with any of those parents' children.

A few years passed and then he was delighted when my boyfriend who was going into the infantry and I split and then Dain and I started seeing each other. So freaking delighted he has our wedding basically planned and as far as I know he still thinks we are an item unless someone else has told him otherwise. Honestly Dain and I were both too chicken shit to mention it and he was starting here anyway so not like it mattered. I'm pretty sure he has the hots for Violet and that's why he did it and waited so he wouldn't have to deal with my father.” I paused and added “He's not one to take a beating lightly when he's upset. Upset and angered even worse.” “Dain’s a dick and I'm willing to risk it.” he said, pulling me in for another kiss. “Will take this as it goes. It's better if no one knows right away anyway, you get lash enough for your last name and then if anyone finds out you’re with me and hurts you because they think you're trying to sleep your way to safety.” He sighed, “I couldn't deal with you getting hurt because of me either, so wet for me.” He chuckled.

[callsign-rogueone]

reunification day - d.a.

Dain Aetos x reader part two of Dain and Love's story words: 2.6k 🏷: no book spoilers really, set pre-Fourth Wing, feminine reader but no pronouns used, this one is pretty tame and fluffy if you don't think too hard about the implications of literally every word, Col. Aetos makes an appearance and is a total jerk, as usual, delving into Dain's ~issues~ a bit, and hopefully showing a little more of Love's personality. I really like this one. a lot. I hope you do too. no other girlfriends mentioned this time, but can anyone guess who a certain someone was looking for before the speeches started?

It’s been over a year since you’ve spent this much time getting ready for anything. You’ve missed this feeling, sitting in front of your mirror humming a soft tune as you go through your routine, doing up your hair -- that part is made much easier with your signet, the strands curling and smoothing and pinning themselves to your liking while you darken your eyelashes and brush through your eyebrows, glossing your lips and making everything soft and shiny.

It’s a nice change of pace from your usual rushed mornings at the school, but it doesn’t feel the same, not how it used to, when you’d do all of this with a smile, genuinely excited for the occasion, for the opportunity to take a break from the training and the preparing-for-war to spend time with your family at their formal gatherings, with singing and dancing and food and all the trappings of Tyrrish culture -- because the occasion you’re preparing for right now is a holiday celebrating the anniversary of Navarre making those things illegal.

Either way, you look damn good, and you’re going to let everybody in attendance see it. 

“Your friends are outside,” Cosa reports — you’d told them not to wait for you, and they know better than that, anyway, especially when you have a reason to take your time getting ready like this.

With one last adjustment to the skirt of your dress, and one more lingering glance at yourself in the mirror, you drape the long silk wrap over your shoulders and slip out your door, heading down the hall out to the courtyard, where the party — if one could call it that — is just getting started, cadets trickling in slowly and settling into their formations.

You spot Dain in his usual place in the block. Of course he’d be one of the first to get here.

“You clean up nicely,” you greet, brushing a piece of fluff from the collar of his uniform. You let your fingertips skim over the broad expanse of his shoulder, lingering perhaps a second too long before you pull your hand back.

He represses a shiver, his cheeks reddening. “You too,” he manages. “You’re… wow.”

You smile at how flustered he is, at the blush spreading across his cheeks and his difficulty forming complete sentences. “Thank you. I may have a shitty relationship with this holiday, but I’ll take the excuse to be pretty for an evening.”

“You’re always pretty,” he says quietly, still looking at you.

It’s a compliment you’ve gotten from dozens of men before, one you usually brush off, but your heart skips hearing it from the one man who hasn’t been falling at your feet all year. 

“He thinks I’m pretty,” you whisper to Cosa, unable to keep the smile off your face.

She sounds amused. “Of course he does. Now, are you going to do something about it?”

That is the question; but she should know by now that you don’t chase after anything or anyone, especially not men.

“Thank you,” you reply warmly.

It’s obvious that he doesn’t know where to go from here, what to say next. 

You’re standing at eye level with him, or close to it, for the first time ever, and he can’t look away; mesmerized by the color of your irises and the flutter of your eyelashes as you blink, the barely-there shimmer coating your eyelids.

“Are you wearing heels?” he asks, finally putting it together. 

You nod, shifting the long skirt of your dress to show him the simple black stilettos underneath, thick silk ribbons wrapped around your ankles to keep them in place, tied with perfect bows.

He’s in over his head. Thankfully the next sentence that comes out of his mouth isn’t about how much he’d like to kneel down and tug at the ribbons until the bows came undone, to slide the shoes off and… 

“Did you really cross the parapet with those in your bag?” he asks, still looking at them.

“I did,” you answer, smiling. “They’re my favorites — they were a gift from my favorite brother. And they’re black, so they’re codex-approved.”

Fair enough.

It stands to reason that you’d have a favorite pair of shoes, and a collection of them back home — in the year that he’s known you, he’s learned that you place a high value on your physical appearance, and you aren’t afraid to modify your uniform within the bounds of regulation, finding subtle ways of making it your own.

You settle into your usual spot between him and Sawyer, who looks to be searching for someone in the crowd, his shoulders sinking when he realizes they aren’t there. You offer him a soft smile that he returns silently, your attention returning to the dais just as the clock strikes seven.

“I should have asked Bodhi what his bet was on the length of the speeches,” you tell Cosa, preparing yourself for a very boring next thirty minutes. She doesn’t respond. 

It's a bit unfair that her and her friends get the evening off while you’re forced to listen to these self-labeled war heroes prattle on about patriotism and the importance of this terrible holiday as if you and your compatriots aren’t even here.

“Twenty-eight minutes,” she relays after a few seconds.

You try not to laugh. “Tell him I say thirty-two, and the winner gets ten Krown.”

Another short pause. “He finds these terms acceptable.”

You subtly shift your weight back and forth between your feet throughout the speeches — which add up to thirty-one minutes, if you count the awkward transitions between them — having grown unused to the heeled shoes in the last year of wearing flat black boots every day.

You’re finally dismissed, the formations breaking as riders move around to find their friends for the rest of the evening. You turn toward third wing, looking for Imogen, who will be the easiest to spot with her unconventional hair color — you’re sure she absolutely despises this whole thing, but especially the required dress.

“Cadet Aetos,” someone calls, and he freezes at the voice for a split second before turning toward it.

The colonel insignia on the man’s collar and the shape of his jaw is enough for you to connect the dots — that’s Dain’s father, and he’s approaching with both General Sorrengail and King Tauri in tow.

You’ve just spotted Imogen and Bodhi, but you can’t leave now, not when three of the aforementioned war heroes are looking directly at you. You plaster a smile onto your face, adjusting your shawl. “Your Majesty, General, Colonel,” you greet in order of rank, extending a perfect curtsy to the king with a polite smile and a nod of the head to the others.

The monarch smiles back, but the officers don’t.

“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” the Colonel says, turning his gaze to you. Ice spreads through your veins, and for a moment you wonder if he possesses some physiological signet that he’s using on you, or if he’s just that cold and calculating because he knows exactly who you are. 

But neither of those options explain why the quadrant’s poster boy is looking at this uniformed officer — his own father — like a wolf that’s about to bite.

You give him a slight dip of your chin in deference. “Cadet Callwell, sir. Second squad, flame section, fourth wing — the same as your son. I can see the family resemblance,” you add with a disarming smile.

Dain winces beside you.

Your graceful response doesn’t seem to have thawed things between you and Aetos Senior any further, but luckily, someone changes the subject of conversation; King Tauri himself. “Tell me, cadets, how are you finding your studies?”

“Very well, your Majesty,” you answer with a polite smile. “We are fortunate to have such experienced and knowledgeable professors.” 

You nudge Dain’s foot with yours, silently prodding him to say something.

“Yes,” he agrees after a few seconds, “Fortunate indeed. The last year has been a challenge, but one that I know will prepare us to serve our country well.”

That is exactly what the King wants to hear. “And how fortunate am I, to have such valiant students with such bright futures ahead of them.”

“You flatter us, Your Majesty,” Dain responds, finally having found his voice.

General Sorregail still hasn’t said a word, watching the pair of you silently.

The Colonel gives you both a curt nod. “Thank you, Cadets. That will be all.”

Dain bows, and you drop another curtsy to the king, earning yourselves another fond smile before you turn away, but as you cross the courtyard, your blood is boiling on Dain’s behalf. Colonel Aetos hadn’t even spared him a smile. No loving touch, no real goodbye for his only son whom he may very well never see again, no use of his name, just Cadet?

Dain speaks first once you’re out of their earshot, sounding stunned. “I don’t think Tauri even realized you were marked. How did you…”

“It’s a party trick of mine,” you answer, stopping to sit on a small stone bench by one of the courtyard’s open archways. “One I learned very quickly after I got this.”

You let the silk drape drop from your shoulders, exposing the smoky relic trailing up your arm. Dain’s eyes catch on it immediately, like they do every time you’re not wearing long sleeves, studying the intricate swirls that don’t seem to follow any particular pattern, winding up and down your arm near-randomly.

“It’s the first thing anyone sees about me, or any of my friends. But I figured out that if I was perfect in every other regard, if I was charming enough and followed all the rules and did everything correctly, they wouldn’t notice it,” you say, gazing up at the stars. 

It’s a remarkably clear night, several of the summer constellations visible, but he remains focused entirely on you as you continue.

“The thing people don’t realize is that we’re all from “good families”, or we were, before they killed our parents. The Laurents were one of the most successful families in Tyrrendor before their assets were seized. So were the Durrans. Xaden is technically a Duke, now that he’s of age, but his duchy was burnt to a crisp.

My point is, we all know how to stand on ceremony and lay a proper table and dance a waltz and speak to authority figures, but people see the relics, or the names on our flight jackets, or how we speak or braid our hair or anything that shows our culture, and they forget all that. They just see a pack of rabid dogs.

Navarre used to respect us, to look at us like we were valuable. And then once we asked for not just a seat at their table, but for a table of our own, they decided we weren’t worth the dirt our houses were built on, and that everything we touched was tainted. They torched my mother’s rose garden and shattered every window in the house the day they arrested my father, just because they could.

So I know it sounds pathetic, or bratty, or whatever other adjectives you want to use, but being able to wear high heels and makeup and a pretty dress once a year is important to me, even if it’s for a holiday celebrating the death of so many people I loved, because it’s the only time that I get to feel like the girl I used to be, who didn’t have to fight for her life every day, who had parents that loved her more than anything in the world, and who was looked at like a person, not a fugitive or a liability or a wild animal.”

“It’s not pathetic,” he says softly. “I know I will never truly understand, but I get it. And for whatever it’s worth, you look perfect.”

“Thank you,” you whisper.

He starts another sentence that’s interrupted by the crackle of fireworks exploding into the air, startling both of you. He laughs, a sound you’ve hardly ever heard over the last year, but you like it.

You drape the silk back around your shoulders to fight the chill of the night air and pat the cold stone next to you, inviting him to sit. He accepts, perching on the other end of the bench and looking up at the night sky, keeping a respectful distance between you as the show continues, a few minutes of comfortable quiet.

With one last fizzling red firework, the display ends, and you hear applause from the other side of the courtyard, where most of the quadrant is gathered.

“Dain,” you say quietly, throwing him off balance, “I wanted to apologize earlier, but…”

“What for?” he asks, that cute little confused look on his face, head tilted and brows pinched. It would make you smile if you weren’t about to rip the bandage clean off, to end whatever this is before it can even start. 

You choose your words delicately. “Tauri may not have realized who I am, but your father certainly did, and judging by the way he left things with you, he was clearly upset by it. If that’s going to have consequences for you, that he found you talking to me…”

“Oh, he’s always been like that,” he dismisses. “He’s never been one for any kind of affection. I’ve learned not to take it personally.”

It all makes sense now, why Dain is… like that, why he never touches you, why you’re always just Cadet Callwell to him and never anything else, why he’s so strict and by the book; the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

But from the two minutes you’d spent with the Colonel, you can tell that Dain is twice the man he’ll ever be; not cold and uncaring, not prejudiced or cruel… he might even have room for someone like you in his heart.

You shouldn’t get your hopes up about that.

“Still… I’m sorry,” you say softly. “If he gets mad at you about it, say the word and I’ll keep my distance, or ask to be reassigned. I don’t want to make things tense between you.”

“It’s fine,” he reassures. “I’m sorry he made you uncomfortable. He tends to have that effect on people. It’s part of the reason I didn’t have many friends growing up— the other kids were scared of him.” 

He smiles, but you can tell there’s a tender wound underneath. “And I wanted to say it earlier, too, but thank you. For helping me not look like a total idiot in front of the king, and for showing me a new perspective.”

You smile — not the fake one he’d seen you give Tauri, but a real smile, one that makes your eyes sparkle like the stars. “Of course.” 

“Your friends are probably looking for you,” he says quietly, and you startle as you realize he’s right, that you’d completely forgotten about finding them, too focused on impressing the King, and then you hadn’t wanted to abandon Dain after that conversation… It’s not like you wanted to spend time with him or anything. You definitely wouldn’t choose him over your friends, right?

You rise from the bench, smoothing a hand over your skirt. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he replies, giving you one last look, soaking up the sight of you in that dress before you walk away and things go back to normal between you: regular uniforms tomorrow morning, and your usual rivalry and bickering at formation, with your friends constantly watching the pair of you and scrutinizing his every move.

If you hadn’t each inherited the wars of your fathers, maybe then this could work — but then you would never have met. 

He doesn’t know if that would be better or worse.

[bookdragon-shenanigans]

I just read the fourth wing bonus chapter and MAN. I knew I wasn't Xaden's biggest fan before but MAN. I honestly don't even know how they ruined a character with so much potential is beyond my understanding???? Xaden is straight up unlikable in the chapter. So many issues in the chapter.

[Caution: Listen, I love Xaden, truly. But he really makes me want to beat him up I'm sorry]

Opinions so far: (Warning: This is not Xaden-friendly I might be a major bitch for 80% 😭)

The chapter felt kind of unnecessary?? Like even if it was a cash grab (which I agree but that's not the point rn) did we really need a bonus chapter that's just the same chapter but just rewritten with some occasional Xaden comments? We could've gotten a new interaction but noooo

With the amount of obsessing talking Xaden does about Dain, you'd think Dain was the one he has a crush on. No because stop this you're literally doing the same thing you accuse everyone of doing to you. "Everyone judges the marked kids just because of what our parents did 🥺🥺👉👈" ISN'T THAT WHAT YOU'RE DOING RIGHT NOW??? Why are you being such a pissy bitch over the fact that he thinks you're bad for her when you literally agree???. [Coherent me update: In hindsight Xaden going out of his way to annoy Dain for entertainment is hilarious not gonna lie. Still think he was being a bitch tho]

The Imogen was missing plotline. Seriously? "Imogen was sick"?? They could just be like oh no she wiped everyone's memories so they don't remember because there is zero canon connection in her being sick. Also the fandom was spot on 💅. To be fair, I can excuse this one.

Xaden's "strategy". Why are we acting like battle strategy is a multiple choice question with one answer??? Where is the common sense?? Where is the individuality??? Where is the originality???

I just noticed this now but WHY IS THE CONTINENT THEY LIVE IN LITERALLY CALLED The Continent???? WHY ARE THEY ACTING LIKE THEY LIVE ALONE IN THE WORLD HELP

FINALLY Emery's last name

Okay I actually like passively possessive simp Xaden because let's be fr he's not noticing anyone other than Violet. He's really acting like the stupid hormonal emo 23 year old he his and I love him for that.

Xaden not understanding sibling dynamics is top tier I love this. Like this man is standing there so confused like 🧍‍♂️.

Highkey confused at the Lewellen part because I'm pretty sure they were fostered by Lindell?? Either this is shitty writing or a case of an unreliable narrator. Who knows. Not me.

SGAEYL. THAT'S IT. 🛐🛐🛐🛐🛐

"Violet would get over her sister's death eventually" CALM TF DOWN SIR. This is a civilized conversation. Okay but like someone needs to tell these people that murder doesn't solve everything. It's not even the best form of revenge 😭😭😭

I need more backstory on the Cygnis flier drama. Why only that province??? How come other provinces are safe??

"Wasn't my choice," I shrug. Lying is easy, except when it comes to Violet. I haven't quite figured that one out yet. Excuse me what

Okay, I know this is OS buildup but why were the wards down???

"Was it us?" LIAM. MY SWEET BABY BOY ILY YOU'RE THE BEST.

Okay I just realized now that Dain only name drops Rhiannon, Ridoc and Sawyer when he mentions the first years and man how did I not notice that before-

Lots of suspicious stuff. Lots.

IT HAS COME TO MY NOTICE THAT THERE IS A VERY HIGH AMOUNT OF MIRA DYING MENTIONED IN THE CHAPTER AND I DO NOT LIKE IT AT ALL

The bottom line is that I've read too much fanfiction and set my standards too high 😭😭

Anyways stan Liam my sweet summer child 🛐🛐

Update: I just came back from my exam and took a look at what I wrote here and help why was 5am me so salty 😭😭