#Xaden riorson fluff

[thestarseternaal]

can we appreciate the fact that both vi and xaden are obsessed with each others eyes🥹

his golden onyx eyes - violet sorrangail, fourth wing

those hypnotic hazel eyes - xaden riorson, fourth wing

adorable 🥹🥹

[soulofapatrick]

Giving Into Temptations - Xaden Riorson x Female Reader

Summary: Part two of Don't Tempt Me

Warnings: Smut; P in v; cockwarming

Words: 4.6K 

Notes: I just had to make part two and it's not proofread and written after a break so sorry for any mistakes/repetition

Y/N's POV

The sound of rushing water stops, leaving only the quiet crackle of tension in the air. I hear Xaden moving in the bathroom—quick, efficient movements, the sound of his hands adjusting the faucet, testing the water. For a few long moments, I sit there, feeling the heat of my own words still lingering between us, replaying the way his body tensed, the way his breath caught when I suggested he join me. I don’t regret saying it. Not even a little. But now, with the silence stretching between us, I wonder what’s running through his mind.

Footsteps approach, heavy and deliberate, and then Xaden steps back into the room. His expression is unreadable, his golden-flecked eyes shadowed with something I can’t quite name. He doesn’t say anything at first, just watches me from where he stands, as if deciding whether or not to speak. Then, with a sigh that sounds like he’s battling himself, he moves toward me, reaching out.

"Come on," he says, his voice lower than usual, raspier. "Water’s ready."

He extends his hand, waiting for me to take it. I hesitate—not because I don’t want to, but because something about this moment feels different. He’s always been imposing, always carried himself with that unwavering confidence, but right now, there's something softer in the way he looks at me. Something unguarded.

I slide my hand into his, and his fingers curl around mine, firm and warm. The contrast between his calloused palm and my own sends a shiver up my spine. He doesn't say anything about it—just helps me up, steadying me as my sore muscles protest. The ache in my body is undeniable, and I probably should have been listening to Vireth when he told me to stop, but the damage is done now.

Xaden doesn’t let go as he guides me toward the bathroom, his other hand finding my waist like he’s afraid I’ll collapse again. Maybe I will. Every step reminds me how exhausted I am, how much I’ve pushed myself beyond my limits.

The warmth from the bath curls into the air as we step inside, steam clinging to my skin. It smells faintly of the lavender oil he must have added to the water—something soothing, something that makes me feel like maybe, just maybe, I don’t always have to fight so hard to prove I belong here.

I turn to look at him, expecting him to let go now that we’re here, but he doesn’t. Instead, his hands stay on me, lingering at my waist, fingers pressing slightly into the bare skin between my sports bra and the waistband of my underwear. His gaze drops to the bruises lining my ribs, his jaw tightening.

“You push yourself too damn hard,” he mutters, almost to himself, his voice a quiet accusation. His thumb ghosts over one of the deeper bruises, and I feel his restraint in the way he touches me—gentle, but simmering with frustration.

I don’t answer. What is there to say? He’s right, and we both know it. But I don’t regret it. I can’t afford to.

Xaden exhales sharply, shaking his head before finally—reluctantly—stepping back.

“Get in before the water gets cold,” he says, his tone gruff, but there’s an underlying softness there, something he doesn’t want me to hear.

I don’t move. Not yet. Instead, I tilt my head, watching him carefully. He meets my gaze, and for a moment, I swear I see the battle in his eyes—the war between every instinct telling him to leave, to put space between us, and the deep, undeniable pull that keeps him here, rooted to the spot.

My fingers find the hem of my sports bra, and I peel the damp fabric up over my ribs, my muscles protesting the movement. I know he’s still watching me—can feel the weight of his gaze like a brand against my skin—but I refuse to meet it. Instead, I focus on my breathing, slow and steady, as I pull the bra over my head and let it slip from my fingers onto the floor. The air against my bare skin is cool in contrast to the steam curling through the room, sending a ripple of heat down my spine that has nothing to do with the bath.

I take my time sliding my underwear down my legs, my fingers brushing against the bruises lining my hips, a reminder of how hard I pushed today. Of how hard I always push. I step out of them, standing completely bare under the dim bathroom light, knowing his gaze is still locked on me, burning.

Even without looking, I can picture the way his jaw must be clenched, how his fingers might be curled into fists at his sides as he fights every instinct screaming at him to move. To touch. To close the space between us.

I don’t give him the satisfaction of a glance. Instead, I turn, stepping carefully into the bath, the heat of the water licking up my calves, then my thighs, until I sink beneath its welcoming warmth with a quiet sigh. The tension in my muscles loosens almost immediately, and I let my head rest against the cool porcelain edge, closing my eyes for a brief moment.

I should feel self-conscious. Exposed. But I don’t. Not really. Not when his silence is thick with something else entirely—something raw, barely restrained, and entirely too tempting.

And still, I don’t look at him.

The silence stretches between us, thick with something unspoken, something charged. My body hums with awareness, my skin prickling under the heat of both the bath and his relentless gaze. I keep my eyes closed for a beat longer than necessary, as if that will somehow lessen the intensity of the moment. It doesn’t. It only makes the tension coil tighter, thick and suffocating.

Then, finally, he speaks.

“Are you trying to fucking kill me?”

His voice is low, breathy, like the words have been torn from him against his will, and the sheer frustration laced in them is enough to make my eyes snap open.

I turn my head slowly, and—gods help me—he looks wrecked.

Xaden stands rigid, his broad shoulders stiff, every muscle wound so tight it’s a miracle he hasn’t shattered under the strain. His fists are clenched at his sides, veins pressing against the golden-toned skin of his forearms like he’s holding himself back with every ounce of control he possesses. His chest rises and falls in shallow breaths, and his lips—his lips—are slightly parted, like he’s just realised how parched he is and that I’m the only thing that could possibly quench him.

But it’s his eyes that do me in.

Those gold-flecked onyx irises burn, searing a path over every inch of exposed skin, dark and predatory, his pupils blown wide with something dangerously close to hunger.

And then, as my gaze drops lower, I see just how much I’ve affected him.

The evidence is straining against his jeans, a prominent, undeniably enticing outline pressing against the dark fabric. My mouth goes dry. Heat pools low in my stomach, winding tightly through my limbs, and suddenly, the bath feels entirely too small, the room too hot, the air too thick to breathe.

I should say something. Should break the moment, laugh it off, defuse the impossible tension crackling between us before it ignites into something I know we won’t be able to stop.

But I don’t.

Instead, I drag my gaze back up to his, meeting his with deliberate slowness, letting him see every thought running rampant through my mind.

I raise a single brow, the ghost of a smirk playing at my lips, and that’s all it takes.

Something snaps.

Xaden curses under his breath, something low and guttural, and then he’s moving. Fast.

His hands fly to the hem of his shirt, yanking it over his head in one fluid motion. The fabric barely clears his arms before he’s tossing it to the side, forgotten. My breath catches at the sight of him—of the solid planes of muscle, the ink that stretches across his arms and chest, the way his skin is already flushed like he’s been fighting this battle for far too long.

His fingers go to the buttons of his jeans, fumbling in his haste, jaw clenching as he struggles with the damn things like they’re his mortal enemy.

I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to suppress the laugh bubbling in my throat as he growls in frustration, finally forcing them open. But when he shoves the denim down his hips, he nearly trips over his own damn feet, his balance thrown as he kicks his shoes off at the same time.

A very undignified thud echoes through the bathroom as one shoe hits the wall.

And then—fuck.

Xaden looks up at me, half-dressed, breathless, and so fucking wrecked, and the sheer heat in his gaze burns through whatever amusement I had, replacing it with something molten.

His chest rises and falls rapidly, tension still coiling through his muscles, but there’s something else in his expression now. Something that makes my own breath stutter.

Like he’s already mine. Like he’s made peace with the fact that he’s about to break every rule he’s set for himself.

Xaden is back on his feet in seconds, the last shreds of his restraint gone. He practically rips his boxers down those thick, muscular thighs, the motion so desperate, so reckless, that the waistband almost gives out under the force.

And then—gods help me—my gaze drops.

My breath catches. My pulse stumbles.

I don’t mean to look. I don’t. But gravity itself seems to drag my gaze downward, past the hard ridges of his stomach, the sharp lines of his hip bones, to—

Oh.

Oh.

A sharp inhale gets caught in my throat, my fingers clutching the porcelain edge of the bath like it’s the only thing tethering me to reality. A slow, involuntary heat creeps up my neck, settling deep in my stomach as I try—try—to force my gaze back up. But it’s impossible.

Because fuck.

He’s big. Thick, heavy, fully erect, standing proud against his stomach. And the worst part? The moment my eyes betray me, lingering too long, a sound escapes me—a tiny, almost imperceptible hitch of breath. But it’s enough.

Xaden hears it.

I feel the shift in the air before I even meet his gaze again.

When I do, it’s devastating.

His eyes are burning, dark as molten gold, pupils blown wide, chest rising and falling with a barely restrained tension that vibrates through every inch of his body. His lips part like he’s about to say something, but he doesn’t. He just stands there, watching me watch him, taking in every single reaction, every single thing I’m failing to hide.

And then—fuck him—his mouth curves. Just slightly. Just enough to make my pulse stumble.

He knows.

He knows exactly what he’s doing to me. Exactly how wrecked I am.

And from that slow, wicked smirk pulling at his lips?

He’s savouring every fucking second of it.

Xaden steps forward, closing the small, agonising distance between us, and fuck. It’s right there.

My breath shudders as the heat of him seeps into the steam-heavy air, his presence overwhelming in a way that makes my pulse trip over itself. He’s so close now, towering over me, muscles taut with restraint, water-darkened strands of black hair falling across his forehead. But it’s not his face I’m struggling to focus on.

No.

It’s him. Right there. In front of my face.

And gods help me, I want to do something.

My fingers twitch against the porcelain edge of the bath, an ache settling deep in my core that has nothing to do with my exhaustion and everything to do with the way every primal, desperate part of me is screaming to reach out—to wrap my hands around him, my mouth—fuck—I don’t even care how.

As if sensing the exact second I start to spiral, Xaden exhales sharply through his nose, his fingers pressing against my shoulder. “Don’t,” he warns, voice low, tight, wrecked.

I drag my eyes up, catching the way his jaw flexes, how the veins in his forearms strain like he’s barely holding himself together.

And then, just to make absolutely sure I understand, his hand finds the curve of my neck, thumb grazing the hinge of my jaw as he leans in close enough that his breath is a ghost against my lips.

“Be a good girl and behave,” he murmurs.

Fucking bastard.

A slow, deliberate heat spreads from where his hand lingers, all the way down my spine, settling low in my stomach. My breath is shaky, uneven, but I force myself to hold his gaze, to not react—to not give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much those words affect me.

I fail. Miserably.

His smirk deepens, smug and knowing, before he nudges me forward in the water, shifting me just enough to slide in behind me.

The moment he sinks into the bath, a low groan escapes him, the sound vibrating through the space between us, sinking into my skin. Strong, calloused hands find my waist under the water, guiding me back until my spine meets the solid wall of his chest and my ass meets something very different. 

And fuck.

The heat of him, the sheer size of him, makes my entire body lock up. Every muscle goes rigid as I try to convince myself this is fine, that I can handle this without combusting on the spot.

But then his lips brush my ear.

“Relax.” His voice is pure sin, rough with restraint. “I’ve got you.”

I don’t think relaxing is an option anymore.

Not when I can feel him, hot and hard against me, pressed so intimately that my breath catches in my throat. Not when his hands, large and calloused, find my waist beneath the water, his thumbs brushing slow, burning circles into my skin.

A shiver ripples through me, and I know he feels it because his grip tightens, fingers flexing like he’s fighting every instinct to pull me closer.

“Xaden—” My voice is barely a whisper, but before I can even process what I’m trying to say, his hands begin to move.

Slow. Deliberate.

He traces the curve of my sides, trailing the bruises with a careful touch, his palms mapping every ridge, every muscle, like he’s memorising me.

Like he wants to.

And it should be soothing—it would be soothing—if it weren’t for the fact that every shift of his hands sends a fresh wave of awareness through me, heat pooling low in my stomach, turning my bones to liquid.

I squeeze my eyes shut, my breath uneven. “This isn’t fair,” I manage, trying to ignore the way my entire body reacts to his touch.

Xaden hums, the sound deep, amused, dangerous. His breath is warm against the side of my neck as he leans in, his lips barely ghosting over my skin.

“Life’s not fair, violence,” he murmurs, his voice like smoke and embers, like temptation itself. His fingers tighten at my waist, pressing me just a fraction more against him, until there’s no mistaking exactly what I’m doing to him.

A quiet, wrecked sound escapes me before I can swallow it down.

And gods.

I don’t think I want to relax anymore.

Xaden’s hands remain steady on my waist, but there’s a subtle shift in his touch. His fingers begin to move, a slow, deliberate exploration of the skin beneath his hands. The warmth of his touch sends ripples of heat over me, and it’s as though I can feel every inch of his fingers against me, the way they trail over my skin, brushing lightly against my ribs before descending lower.

His touch is careful at first, like he’s testing, sensing the boundaries I haven’t yet laid out. The water between us becomes a barrier of heat and tension, and I can feel him getting closer, his breath mingling with mine, quiet and measured.

Then, with deliberate patience, his fingers shift down to my legs, gliding along the smooth skin of my thighs. My pulse quickens, and I struggle to keep my breathing steady, not knowing whether to lean into the touch or brace myself against it.

When his hand nudges my legs apart ever so slightly, it’s a gentle but insistent movement, a tease that has my heart pounding in my chest. It’s almost as if he’s savouring the slow build-up, the way he’s tracing every line of my body with his fingertips—each touch purposeful, each stroke drawing out more of the tension that I can’t escape. 

Suddenly he’s lifting me a bit, one strong arm around my waist against. A soft sound of surprise leaving my lips when I feel the tip brushing against my soaking entrance, a soft question on his lips. I’m nodding before I realise it, gripping the arm around my waist and completely forgetting that this isn’t me. I don’t fuck for fun but Xaden sends every rule of mine out the window, especially when he’s slowly and carefully sinking me down until he’s fully sheafed inside me. 

My head falls back onto Xaden’s shoulders he hands go back to exploring my body but all I can focus on is the delicious stretch of him, the tip feeling like it’s pressing against my cervix. No-one has stretched me this much and it’s almost too much to handle and Xaden can tell, the way the rough pads of his fingers run over where we’re connected. His lips brushing my neck, biting down and littering my skin with hickeys that I am in no way going to be able to cover up tomorrow. 

I’m opening my mouth to speak but he silences me by circling my clit, a smirk pressing into my jaw as he continues to roll lazy circles over my clit, my walls fluttering around his girth filling me up. I can already tell I’m not going to last long with the mixture of stimulation and I’m gripping Xaden’s arm that is paying attention to that bundle of nerves as my thighs clench together. He’s moving his lips from my jaw to my ear, murmuring, “Come for me baby.”

Those words plus one more tight circle on my clit has my aching back arching, drawing Xaden even deeper than I thought possible and my walls are clamping down around him, feeling hi twitch inside me as waves of bliss roll over me. I can feel Xaden rocking his hips up ever so slightly and before I know what’s happening he’s sinking his teeth into my shoulder and his dick is throbbing, filling me up with rope after rope until I feel it dripping down into the water and he’s letting out a low groan of pleasure. 

His breath is ragged against my ear, each inhale a sharp, uneven sound that mirrors the frantic rhythm of my own. His body is still pressed tightly against mine, and I can feel the heat of him seeping through the water, the warmth of his chest against my back as his arms tighten around me.

"Fuck..." he breathes, his voice strained, rough with the effort to regain control. It's low, almost a growl, but the vulnerability in it—how breathless he sounds—has my heart hammering in my chest. The intimacy of the moment makes my head spin, and I bury my face in the crook of his neck, needing the coolness of his skin to steady myself.

Every part of me feels alive, humming with the aftershocks of what we've shared. My lungs are still struggling to keep up, my chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. I close my eyes, trying to slow the frantic pace of my breathing, but with Xaden so close, the air feels thick, charged with a quiet tension that doesn't seem to want to fade.

His lips brush against my neck, a soft, breathless kiss that sends a shiver racing down my spine, and his hand, still resting on my hip, flexes slightly. "Take it slow," he murmurs, his voice low and raw, like he's trying to soothe me, but I know it’s just as much for himself.

I want to say something, to break the silence, but every word feels heavy, every sound trapped somewhere deep in my chest, caught between us like the air we share. His presence, the heat of him, the way he's holding me so close—it’s all too much, too overwhelming in the best way possible.

And as I try to regain my breath, the world outside seems to disappear, leaving only the two of us, tangled in the aftermath.

The warm water, the steady rhythm of Xaden’s breathing, and the weight of his body against mine have me feeling utterly relaxed, more than I’ve ever felt before. My muscles, still sore from training, are languid and loose, and I can feel myself beginning to drift, the world around me fading into a haze of warmth and comfort.

I try to fight it, to stay awake, but my eyelids are heavy, and the rhythmic pulse of the water, the sound of Xaden’s heartbeat, and his steady presence make it hard to keep my thoughts straight. Everything in me is exhausted—physically, emotionally. I feel his chest rise and fall with each breath, and it’s like a lullaby, pulling me deeper into sleep.

The gentle pressure of his hand on my hip only makes it worse, a soothing presence that makes me feel safe and cherished, like I could stay here forever. I let out a soft sigh, nestling further into him, too tired to do anything but let myself be held.

But then, I feel him shift, his hand nudging me gently as the cold begins to settle in, and I realise the water has started to cool. A part of me knows I should get up, but my body protests every movement, too spent to function properly. The weariness pulls at me, a fog I can’t shake.

"Come on," his voice is soft but insistent, the edge of concern threading through the words. "We need to get out before we both freeze."

I barely manage to lift my head from his chest, my eyes half-lidded as I try to push myself up, but the effort is too much. My body feels like lead, and the warmth of the bath is so comforting, I can’t seem to summon the energy to do anything but slump back into him with a soft groan of frustration.

I hear him curse softly under his breath, and before I can protest, his arms shift around me. In one smooth motion, he’s standing, lifting me with ease. I’m held against him, wrapped in his strong arms, and I’m so out of it, so weak from everything we’ve just shared, that I don’t even think to object. I rest my head against his chest again, too tired to fight it, and just let him carry me.

He moves with surprising grace, effortlessly holding me as though I weigh nothing at all. His body is warm, and I can feel the solid strength of him beneath me as he carries me out of the bath, stepping carefully through the bathroom and towards the bed. The movement causes a slight shiver to roll through me, but I barely register it, too lost in the warmth and comfort of his embrace.

The cold air that hits my skin as he pulls me from the bath is a shock, but it’s quickly replaced with the warmth of his hands as he gently helps me sit up. His touch is careful, almost reverent, as he grabs a towel and begins drying me off, his hands moving slowly over my skin, taking extra care around the sore muscles from training. The friction of the towel feels comforting against my damp skin, like he’s erasing the tension that’s settled in my body.

Every pass of the towel makes me feel lighter, his movements deliberate, yet tender. He’s so close, I can feel his breath against my skin, and I can’t help but be hyper-aware of every little sensation, every brush of his fingers. He finishes drying my legs and feet, then wraps the towel around my shoulders, pulling me into a standing position for just a moment. The dizziness that tries to creep up on me from being so relaxed is immediately washed away by the firm grip of his hands, steady and sure.

He doesn’t say anything, just looks at me for a moment, his gaze steady and warm, before picking out one of his oversized shirts from the pile of clothes he keeps by the door. It’s big enough to drown me, but he’s surprisingly gentle as he slides it over my head, the fabric billowing over my frame like a soft cloud. When the shirt falls to my knees, he gives a satisfied nod, his hand lingering on my arm for just a second before he guides me back to the bed.

I’m so exhausted, every inch of my body heavy with fatigue, that I barely manage to crawl into the bed, curling under the thick covers as Xaden moves to the side. But I can’t stop watching him, my eyes half-lidded as he dries himself off with a towel, the water dripping down his chest in rivulets. His muscles flex as he works, and I feel my breath catch in my throat as I take in every inch of him—his broad shoulders, the tautness of his abdomen, the way his hands move over his body with practiced ease.

He doesn’t seem to care about modesty, or maybe he simply doesn’t need to, because before I know it, he’s slipping into the bed behind me, his bare skin pressing against mine. I feel the heat of him, his presence a constant, undeniable force against my back. He doesn’t bother to pull on any clothes, his bare chest brushing against me as he settles in, his arm wrapping around me, pulling me close.

I let out a breath I didn’t realise I was holding, my body sinking into the warmth of him as I try to adjust to the feeling of being so close, so tangled in his presence. His heartbeat, steady and calm, thumps against my back as he presses his lips to my shoulder, a small, contented sound leaving him. It makes me shiver, not with cold, but with something else—something deeper, something I can’t quite define.

Xaden’s arm tightens around me, but his touch remains gentle, his warmth seeping into my skin as I finally relax into him, the exhaustion of the day and our shared moments taking its toll. I let myself breathe deeply, every inhale filling me with the scent of him—musky, warm, a hint of something like cedar and saltwater.

I close my eyes, but not before I catch one last glimpse of him, the outline of his face in the dim light, his expression soft but still holding that intensity I can’t shake. It’s enough to send a flutter through my chest, the lingering tension in my body finally dissipating as I let sleep claim me. His body behind me is a steady, reassuring presence, and in his arms, I feel like I’ve found a place I never want to leave.

Fourth Wing Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 12th Oct 2024

@xadenswhore @fanficscuziranout @daisydark @Mariahoedt @marrass @universallyrascaldreamercookie

[darkempathgirls]

Obsessed? Me? Never 🔥🥵

[eviesaurusrex]

tale as old as time | X. Riorson

Xaden Riorson x Aurelia Melgren (OC)

summary: Usually, he’s the dangerous, unapproachable wingleader in public, but since a few days, Xaden Riorson can’t bare to be apart from Aurelia Melgren.

word count: 2.7k

warnings: none really, mentions of past injuries, dragons, Xaden being touch-starved after admitting his feelings, Xaden’s shadows, Tairn being Tairn, two idiots in love, childhood friends-to-lovers, not entirely proofread

author’s note: Lately, I really am all over the place with my writing for fandoms lol. This could turn into a series of oneshots if people are interested—I can also switch this up into a typical reader-insert starring YN, just let me know!

divider by @enchanthings-a

It started right after Threshing.

First, she almost didn’t heed it no mind, not even realizing a change in his daily routines. Sometimes, she felt his eyes lingering on her whenever they passed one another in the hallways of Basgiath on their way to classes or formation in the morning. Other times, she felt him walking closely next to her, the backs of their hands brushing against one another, letting sparks of electricity travel through her bones, dancing on her skin.

All of those incidents, Aurelia categorized as mere blips in reality—undoubtedly enjoying them, but knowing they would not be present for the remainder of their days at the War College.

But then, the shadows started to act up.

Rea knew how masterfully Xaden wielded his signet, being in total control of it; she had watched him train with Garrick and the others and had even gotten a taste of his skills herself. So, for them to act up all of a sudden as soon as she was near a particularly dark corner?

Highly unlikely.

The day on which she woke up with one of those shadowy, smoky tendrils almost lovingly wrapped around her wrist like a delicate bracelet? She knew something had shifted, that something was certainly different than prior to Threshing. And she started to notice more and more:

Xaden casually walking down the hallway of her dorm floor by utter coincidence when she opened her door to head out for breakfast? The way his hand almost naturally found its spot on the small of her back, resting heavily and comfortingly there until they reached the door to the dining hall, his fingers pressing softly into the fabric of her uniform before letting go?

His long-lingering glances across the tables atop the leader platform now so obvious, she had to be blind (or dead) not to notice them?

The way they sat in comfortable silence on the parapet on a particularly starry night because he knew how much she loved stargazing? Hands brushing against one another on the withered stone, one finger wrapped around the other’s? The heavy feeling of his gaze on her profile while she watched the spectacle in the dark-tinted sky in awe and wonder?

She really had to be blind not to see it.

On this particular morning, Aurelia cradled a cup of coffee between both her hands, eyes focused on the dark-haired wingleader as he ate his scrambled eggs while being in deep conversation with Garrick. Taking a revitalizing sip, she patiently waited, smiling softly as Tairn seemed to wake up and growled in her mind. “Your thoughts of the wingleader disturbed my sleep, Stormy One. Keep this up, and I might not be inclined to continue to tolerate him near me.” The Melgren rolled her eyes at that. “Oh, please. I wouldn’t wager my marital bliss because I keep on fantasizing about incinerating the rider of my mate,” she shot back with a humorous tone down their bond, still letting her smile like a fool.

It was exhilarating to be chosen by a dragon, and Aurelia was sure she would keep on grinning like an idiot until the day of her last ride.

The black dragon huffed into her mind. “First: The bond of mates is far more superior to the human concept of marriage, girl. And second: Do not dare think of your last flight—already. We have years upon years, Stormy One. Your skills are too refined to be wasted on an early death. Instead, continue to dream of the rider who is now staring at you—it’s far less insulting.” It was almost as if Tairn chuckled deeply as her eyes fell on Xaden again, watching his onyx eyes soften ever so slightly as he reveled in the attention she granted him.

A small smile danced across her lips as she took another sip of her cooling coffee, her eyes never leaving his handsome face, remembering his whispered words after Threshing when the healers had worked on her bruised and battered body, thinking she wasn’t conscious enough to recall any of it. Until the day before, she had accounted those words to the delirious state she had been in due to the blood loss, but now, with the shadows accompanying her and the expression on his face? The evidence of his shift in person toward her? Aurelia was sure she didn’t dream up his confession.

They held each other’s gazes locked until most of the cadets had left for classes and training, and only then did the woman rise and leave for Battle Brief herself, waiting for him in the hallway. Leaning against a wall, she had her arms crossed loosely in front of her black-clad chest, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips as he finally made his way out as well, spotting her instantly. Xaden walked over to her with long, purposeful strides, graceful and lethal as ever, fingers gently twitching as his stare fell from her eyes, raking over the lower part of her face.

“How are you feeling? Is the soreness bearable?”

His question was asked quietly, his voice soft and filled with a warmth barely anyone would receive within these walls, and that knowledge made the butterflies in her stomach whirl like a tornado. He had always been soft to her, ever since their first meeting as children, and he had continued to be like that until they had been separated by fate. Perhaps he still was the boy she once knew—just buried beneath everything he had to be for everyone else.

“Good. Better. It still somewhat aches when I get up too fast, but other than that…” She trailed off when his hand crept closer and touched the spot right next to her navel where she had been run through with a sword during Threshing, a scar now left behind. “But…,” she started again, making him look her directly in the eyes, a teasing smile creeping onto her lips. “I would feel much better if you’d explain this.” And with that, she pulled one of her arms out of their hold across her chest, holding up the wrist with the shadow still in place.

She watched Xaden swallow, eyes lingering on the black, translucent bracelet before he stared down at her again. A hand rose and softly wrapped itself around her fingers, pulling her hand close until it landed on his chest, right above his steadily beating heart. It pushed all the air out of her lungs; her breath hitched as she witnessed the vulnerability the fearsome wingleader showed her at this particular moment.

Xaden watched her intently as he murmured: “Do you mind it? Do they… disgust you? Bother you?” Without having to think about it, Aurelia slowly shook her head, never leaving him out of sight. “Why would you think that? I think they’re beautiful. Immaculate. Watching you wield them is like watching art,” she confessed, still slightly breathless, eyes wide with curiosity and… doubt. Did she never show him what she thought about him, about his talents and skills? Perhaps it had been drowned out by everything happening around them, and a pang of guilt settled in her chest. “Art, hm?” Blinking, Aurelia watched his smile grow, and the guilt lessened for now, making her slap his broad shoulder playfully. “Don’t tease me about my choice of words.”

The Riorson chuckled quietly before his arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her flush against his high-towering form. “So, you want an explanation?” His voice had turned into a raspy whisper, and all Aurelia could do was to nod, eyes enthralled by his gaze, her heart beating against her ribcage, trying to escape. “I wanted to make sure you’re all right, Rea, day and night, when I’m here and when I’m not. I wanted to feel close to you at all times, reminding myself every hour of the day that you’re still here, with me.” The fingers pressed against his chest gripped onto his uniform, burying themselves into the midnight black fabric, holding herself up at his steady confession. “Threshing made me realize something I have forgotten for a while: I cannot lose you. I cannot live without you, Aurelia Melgren. If you wouldn’t have made it, it’s safe to say I would have succumbed alongside you. You…” He took a steadying breath with closed eyes before he bent at his waist, coming closer and closer until their foreheads were gently pressed to one another, onyx black crashed against periwinkle blue.

“You are the keeper of all that I feel, of all that I am. One word and I will never speak of it again. One word and I will lock everything away, remaining your friend as I have always been. But…” And with that, he pulled her even closer. “But if your feelings have changed over the years and I was too stupid or blind to see it… Please, tell me and put me out of this… this… misery.” His voice broke at the last word, and it almost hurt her physically to hear his suffering she never knew about.

When has everything between them changed? Aurelia knew when it had changed for her—years ago during a sparring session with him and Garrick back in Aretia when no one had thought about needing to separate. Yes, her father never liked her association with the Riorson’s, but her mother had been from Tyrrendor and called Fen Riorson one of her oldest friends. And on that day, when Xaden had beamed at her proudly for shooting her first arrow successfully, she had known and protected that little secret of hers until… today.

Softly, almost lovingly, Aurelia let the tip of her nose rub against his, staring into his deep eyes and seeing all the emotions she had always hoped to witness on his face, swimming there, freely visible. “Perhaps stupid, perhaps blind, perhaps a bit of both,” the Melgren chuckled, making him roll his eyes at her but turning serious for this particular moment. “You were never just a friend to me, Xaden. You were never just my most trusted companion and confidant—there was always something different between us. I felt… safe with you, protected even. I could be who I was, not the one others desperately wanted me to be. I was… free. You gave me freedom.”

And freedom was the one thing Aurelia had longed for her entire life.

Xaden stared at her unmoving; he almost didn’t dare to breathe when one of her hands cupped his cheek, the pad of her thumb caressing his cheekbone.

“I have always loved you, Xaden Riorson, and I will always love you until my last dying breath as a dragon rider. If you’ll have me…—”

She couldn’t ask the question, not with his lips crashing against hers without restraint, without fear. He was as wild in his claim as he was in his fight, making her his then and there, incinerating every trace of every other man she had allowed to touch her in her life. He unraveled her in a dark corner and put her back together, infusing her with love, passion, and freedom with every move of his lips, with ever raspy sound escaping his throat when her fingers tangled themselves in his dark strands, tucking him closer and closer, until they where almost one.

With a gasp for air, Xaden parted with a heavy breath, chest heaving and heart galloping under the palm of her hand. “If I could, I would make you a Riorson on the spot,” he mumbled, lips pressing kisses to her cheeks and her swollen lips with utmost tenderness. “Slow your dragons, love,” Aurelia’s chuckled words followed. “Let us survive this death sentence of a War College first before we enter a far less superior bond they will most definitely mock.” The man started to grin at her words, pulling her close into his chest. “Did you already get that lecture, hm?” Nodding, she gently pushed back his hair, trying to make it presentable again. “Oh, I have. And I imagine there will be more coming sooner rather than later now that we…” She didn’t dare say the words, but Xaden wasn’t as hesitant—not in the slightest.

“Now that we are in a relationship, mo chroi? You can say it—the title won’t bite you.” Shoving him away, Aurelia showed him her tongue, but letting him take her hand in his, allowing him to hold onto it. “Whatever. Those dragons are menaces, and I’m afraid he will take over the fatherly talk in lack of a present father to do that. And I’m not sure what alternative I would prefer.” As if Tairn had only waited to share his input, his voice echoed through her mind. “I do not know what you dare to imply there, Stormy One, but mind you, I would only propose exceptional measures in order not to procreate ahead of your time. We have goals to accomplish, rider, battles to win, wars to end. No time for… frolicking with your shadow wielder.”

She couldn’t hold back the laugh at the growled words and let go of Xaden’s hand in order to wrap her arm around his waist, claiming her spot at his side, his arm instinctively snaking around her shoulders. “Tairn warned me not to frolic with you, shadow wielder,” she explained at his cocked eyebrow and smiled with closed eyes as he bent down to press a kiss to the crown of her head. “I will keep that in mind, but don’t you think I won’t put my hands on you, Stormy One.”

Walking beside him felt good. Freeing. Empowering. It got into her head, she thought, but it did not matter. She had rarely felt this wonderful.

“Has Sgaeyl spilled Tairn’s secret?” Xaden chuckled humorously as they walked the empty hallways toward Battle Brief. “She did—unintentionally, I think. But it is fitting. You are a tornado, a force of nature to be reckoned with. And with that dragon at your side now? With me? We will be unstoppable, love.” Teasingly, Rea nudged his hip with hers as they stopped in front of the massive double doors leading into the largest classroom Basgiath offered. “Do not over-exaggerate, Xaden darling. You sound like you have an appetite for conquering the world,” she whispered as he bent down again, lips ghosting over hers. “Oh, I have an appetite for many things, mo chroi. And I’ll show you each and every single one of them.”

Kissing Xaden, Aurelia silenced him with flushing cheeks before opening the door to slip inside the now-settling-down cadets. She intended to make her way down toward her usual seat next to her best friend, Merope. Xaden had different plans, though.

His hand snatched hers, and without uttering another word, the tall man tugged her after him, making his row scoot up a seat to create room for her next to Garrick, who watched the interaction with gleaming interest. His cheeky grin was oh so prominent, Aurelia hit his cheek with the flat side of her quill, shaking her head slowly, almost threateningly. “Don’t you dare utter a single word,” she whisper-hissed at him, cocking an eyebrow when he dared to open his mouth, watching him reconsider his next move. “I just wanted to say I told you so, but whatever.” Grinning triumphantly, Garrick winked at her, chuckling when her hand hit him multiple times on his shoulder. “You are unbelievable,” was all she huffed in slight annoyance, forcing herself to look in front, trying to ignore all the stares and the whispers at her new spot. They seemed to increase in volume when everyone bore witness to Xaden Riorson moving his hand in her direction, grabbing her thigh under the small table each seat had sat in front of it, squeezing it tenderly, and leaning in her direction.

“Forget about them, all of them. It doesn’t matter what they think, okay?” He knew her too well, but in their case, she couldn’t give a fuck. Leaning closer herself, Aurelia pressed a lingering kiss to his jawline—it was the only part of his handsome face she could reach without making a fool out of herself—and smiled with a teasing gleam in her eyes. “You won’t get rid of me that easy, Riorson,” the Melgren promised, making him hum in contentment, his hand settling heavily on her thigh—and it would stay there for the remainder of this class and every other they shared.

“I intend to keep you, Melgren. I intend to keep you for a very long time.”

Thank you all for reading! Please consider leaving a like, a comment, and a reblog. Tell me your thoughts about this fic and/or ideas for potential new fanfictions ♡

[riddlesb1tch]

'I' is Important

Xaden x reader

summary: You just love to annoy Xaden

warnings: none!

As the sun's early morning rays entered your room, you rolled onto your back. Yawning, you sat in bed, stretching your limbs, cracking your joints to get some mobility back in your body. The cracking sounds resulted in a groan from the secondary resident of the bed.

Xaden lay beside you, bare torso catching the sun's light perfectly to show off the defined muscles on his abdomen. Muscles you had been…exploring the night before. 

Your cheeks heated slightly and you forced your eyes to move upwards to his face; his beautiful, perfect face that you rarely, if ever, saw peacefully at rest. Xaden lay on his back, dark hair spilling onto his forehead, chest rising and falling from deep breaths. You longed to lay your head on his chest and listen to the steady rhythm of his heart. Instead, you opted to simply admire his features so you wouldn’t rouse him from his slumber.

Mornings like this were your favourite. Seldom did you get to see Xaden sleeping peacefully by your side. Normally, he would be the one to wake you up and usually, you would fall asleep before him and didn’t notice when he snuck into your room during the night. Today, you would take the opportunity to see his handsome face at rest. During the week he was always stressed because of one reason or the reason (mostly you), so this peace did not show up often. 

You reclined your body, propped up on one elbow with your head resting on your fist, and you simply took in Xaden’s features. He occasionally let out adorable little snores that warmed your heart beyond measure. You loved that he felt safe enough to be able to sleep peacefully next to you and you just wanted to protect him at all costs. 

Suddenly, his breathing became quiet which meant he was waking up. He changed positions, turning to face you now. Your hand came up and gently brushed a strand of hair away from his eyes before settling on his cheek where your thumb stroked his cheek lovingly. He smiled slightly before opening his eyes and was met with the sight of you with your sleep-mussed hair and a sleepy smile, looking down at him. Out of all your looks, this had to be his favourite. The one where you looked like you had just gotten out of hibernation when you looked well-rested and stress-free with messy hair and sleepy eyes. 

“Good morning,” he muttered. 

Your smile only grew at the sound of his morning voice, butterflies ticking your stomach at the deep baritone.

 “Good morning,” you whispered back. 

You let your fist fall away and rested your head against the wall while your other hand came to play with Xaden’s hair, lightly scratching at his scalp and tugging at the strands. He hummed contentedly, moving closer to your embrace and nuzzling his face into your neck. You wrapped your arm around him while one hand continued to play with his hair, and rested your cheek on his head. 

He deeply inhaled, taking in your comforting scent and placed a kiss on your neck. Then another. And another. And another until you were giggling and blushing while on your back. 

Xaden pulled away with a bright smile, resting on his forearms and looking down at you with lovesick eyes. 

“God, I love that sound,” he said, then leaned down to kiss you. 

You gently cupped his face in your hands as you gladly kissed him back. He slowly rested his full weight on top of you and your legs wrapped around the backs of thighs to pull him closer. 

Xaden pulled away with huge smiles on both your faces and he bumped his nose with yours before resting his head on your chest. 

He inhaled deeply, then sighed. “I love you,” he muttered into your neck. 

You smiled, held him tighter and said “Love you, too.” 

Xaden lifted his head from your chest and asked “Who?” 

“Huh?” You looked at him confused. 

“Who loves me?” He asked. 

“I do,” you answered with your brows furrowed. 

“Then say that,” he said. 

“I just did,” you replied, laughing slightly. 

“No,” he shook his head. “You said ‘love you, too’ but you didn’t specify who loves me.”

You stared at Xaden for a good ten seconds before replying, “But if it’s coming from me, doesn’t that mean it’s me who loves you?” 

Xaden’s brows furrowed. “No, Bodhi also tells me every day he loves me. You could be talking about Bodhi for all I know. You need to specify who loves me,” he ended with a huff. 

You pursed your lips, trying to suppress a smile and nodded. “Okay, Xaden. If you say so.” 

He nodded in approval then said, “Good. Now, I love you, Y/n.” He nudged his nose against your cheek with a smile. 

You giggled. “Love you, too, Xaden,” you replied. 

His head snapped up from your neck to look at you with a stern expression. Once again, you pursed your lips to suppress a smile. 

“We just talked about this, Y/n,” Xaden said, sounding borderline annoyed. This is why you were mostly the reason Xaden didn’t seem at peace. You got a thrill out of annoying him. 

“Sorry,” you muttered, kissing his nose. “Retry?” 

Xaden looked at you with narrowed, sceptical eyes and said, “Fine. I love you, Y/n.” 

You gave Xaden a charming smile and watched that lovesick come over his features once again. You brought your hand up to stroke his cheek lovingly and looked deep into his onyx eyes. 

“Love you, too, Xaden,” you said and shoved him off, dashing to the door. 

“Hey! Get back here!” Xaden yelled, getting off the bed and coming after you. He grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into him right as you were about to open the door. 

He pulled you onto the bed, getting on top of you and pinning your legs with his. His knees went around your hips and he held your wrists by your head so you’d stop moving. 

“Say it,” he demanded. “Or else…” 

“Or else what?” you demanded, challenge in your face. 

“Or else this,” Xaden yelled before attacking your sides with tickles. 

You screamed, laughing and trying to push Xaden’s hands away but he was relentless with the torment until you gave in to what he wanted. 

“Say it,” he demanded. 

Finally when it was hard to breathe you gave in. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” you repeated while laughing and Xaden ceased the tickles. 

You inhaled deeply, trying to catch your breath, still smiling brightly up at Xaden. He mirrored your expression, looking at you with adoration before he gently cupped your face in his hands and leaned down to kiss you lovingly. 

He rested his forehead on yours and muttered one last time, “I love you,” to which you replied, “I love you more.”

Masterlist

[thelibraryoflightandflowers]

The Farmer

SPOILERS FOR ONYX STORM Xaden trusts Violet when she says she knows somewhere they can rest for the night, which ends up being a farm with a very handsome farmer.

Read on ao3

Link to Masterlist (for other works)

Xaden didn’t know why he was following Violet’s directions. They’d needed a place to rest before making their journey back to the continent, and she’d suggested this small village on one of the outermost islands, where she apparently had a friend. How she’d met this ‘friend’, Xaden didn’t know. Or care. 

Both the dragons and their riders were worn out, not to mention the fliers. Besides, he trusted his friend’s judgment.

They landed in a large field, a far distance from the village. There was a farmhouse nearby, with a garden on one side. It was quaint, and quiet. Exactly the kind of place he liked. 

And then the yelling started. 

“Get your fucking dragons outta my field you heathens!” A male voice shouted from the direction of the house. Fuck. 

“Thought your friend was…friendly?” Ridoc quips, and Xaden glares in his general direction. 

“He is! Usually.” Violet responds, moving towards the figure running towards them. 

“Violet, what is wrong with you?” The man was…handsome, actually. A farmer, evident by the sun-tanned skin and dirt-covered clothes (and the muscles that had Garrick staring). 

“It was the field or the house. We picked the field.” Xaden deadpans, trying to get a read on the man. 

“You picked on top of my carrots, actually. Hey! Don’t you eat that!” Ridoc gawks as the man shoos Andarna away from the wandering hen she was about to eat. Tairn chuffs, and both Xaden and Violet get nervous, but the man simply looks at the dragon. 

“Yeah, dude. Not food. If you want, though, you could totally take a few sheep. I've got too many as it is. Fly south a bit, and if you wouldn’t mind not gorging yourselves I’d be much obliged.” The man points in the direction he’d mentioned, and the dragons and gryphons take that as their cue to depart. 

The imprints in the soil and what Xaden now sees are mangled carrot tops makes him wince. 

“You’re replanting those next time you visit.” The man grumbles as he turns around and motions for them to follow him to his house. 

“I’m sorry, and I promise I will.” Violet placates. 

“Yeah, yeah.” He mutters, laughing as Violet elbows him. Xaden likes that laugh.

“You think he’s cute, don’t you?” Garrick prokes him in the arm.

“Shut up.” Xaden scoffs. Garrick just smirks.

The man serves them a simple but delicious dinner that reminds him of Aretia. He shows them to their rooms, and everyone but Xaden heads straight to bed, tired from the long journey. 

“Can’t sleep?” The man asks. Xaden nods once. 

“I’ve got some last chores to do; that oughta tire you out.” He offers, and cracks a smile. Xaden liked that smile; it was bright and warm, with no hidden meanings or undertones. Just kindness. 

“Sounds great.” Xaden agrees, and the man’s smile grows even warmer. 

Fuck, farm chores were hard. He thought riders had the best stamina, but damn if he wasn’t panting while his companion wasn’t breaking a sweat. They’d spent twenty minutes chasing the hens into their coop, but they were finally in for the night. 

“Tiring, right? I thought I’d make sure your dragons hadn’t decimated my flock too badly, but you can head back now if you’d like.” Xaden jumps at the chance to spend more time with this man. He was funny, warm and quietly bubbly, like the brook near Riorson House. He was everything Xaden wasn’t, all easy smiles and quick laughs. It was infectious. 

“All right, let’s get going. We’ll walk, since it’s a bit too dark for the horses.” 

“So, how did you and Violet meet?” Xaden was shocked to find himself asking questions. But he wanted to know more about this man - he seemed so different from Violet; he couldn’t think of a scenario where they would have been in the same place. 

“I’m from Navarre, originally. I used to hang out at the archives a lot, so that’s how Violet and I met. But I couldn’t stand my parents anymore, to be honest, so I left. I’m happy here, but based on what Violet’s told me, it might be time for me to go home.”  Xaden loved the ease with which this man answered questions. 

“Parents can be…difficult.” Xaden agrees. 

“My parents spent so much time mourning the loss of their daughter that they ended up losing their son as well. No parent is perfect, but the ones that see you as someone you’re not are some of the worst.” He responds. 

“My mother abandoned my family, and I just recently ran into her - and her new husband and sons. On a diplomatic mission. And she poisoned my friend.” Xaden feels like he’s being far too vulnerable, sharing things he’s never shared before. But this man makes it so easy with his comforting presence and non judgmental character. 

“Yikes. At least mine didn’t do that.” Xaden can’t help but chuckle. 

The dragons and gryphons had curled up in the nearby forest - after very politely only helping themselves to a few sheep, away from the rest of the flock. Xaden was glad that they hadn’t destroyed the entire flock - with Andarna’s appetite, you never knew. 

They made their way back to the cottage, and the man walked Xaden up to his door. 

“Tired?” He asked. 

“Very.” Xaden chuckled. 

“Thank you for the company, and the help. Chasing the hens usually takes me twice as long - you were quite good at it for your first time.” Xaden couldn’t help the small smile as he said goodnight and fell into a remarkably soft bed. 

He should trust Violet more often, he decided.

[danikamariewrites]

Hello!! I love your writing so much!! Could you do one where reader and Xaden have a slow, fluffy morning and him just being a grumpy morning person?

I could totally see him finally waking up one morning in a good mood with reader then Dain being a little whining bitch that he is (got a little carried away there lol), pounds on the doors waking the squad up for training.

Hope you are doing well!!!☺️☺️

Good Morning

Xaden x reader

A/n: thank you anon I hope you’re doing well too! I love fluffy Xaden ahhhh

Warnings: fluff, suggestive, nudity, and more Dain slander bc I hate him. Like I said this is not a safe space for Dain Aetos bc fuck that guy

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes you hear Xaden’s light snores and feel his muscular arm tighten around you a little. You smile up at your boyfriend, he looks so peaceful like this. The complete opposite of his conscience state, dark and broody.

You turn, resting your chin on his broad chest. You trace little patterns on his face until he begins to stir. Blinking his eyes open he gives you a sleepy smile, brushing your hair behind your ear and cupping your jaw. “Good morning beautiful.”

You move up his body and kiss his cheek. He pulls you down to snuggle into his neck wrapping his arms around you to pull you fully on top of him. Letting out a sigh he says, “This is perfect. I don’t want to move, just stay here and hold you.”

You giggle against his skin and kiss up his jaw. Xaden turns to catch your lips with his. You deepen the kiss as his hands begin to wander to your hips, moving to grab at your butt. You start grinding on his crotch and feel his cock harden.

Xaden moans into your mouth. He slowly flips you onto your back sneaking his large, rough hands under your shirt. Just as he was about to remove the restrictive clothing you heard a pounding on the door next to yours and a voice yelling. Then the pounding fist was on your own door.

“Up and at ‘em cadets! Surprise flight training, let’s go! I want you all on the field in 20!” Dain yelled. Xaden let out a loud and angry groan as he dropped his head in the crook of your neck. “I’m going to fucking kill him.” You laugh at his dramatics.

Patting his shoulder you try to sit up. “Come on baby, I gotta get up or he’ll kill me if I’m late.” Xaden laid down flat on you. You groan at his weight on you. “Xaden, seriously I need to get dressed.”

He lets out another aggravated sigh. “No. Absolutely not. There’s no way I’m letting Aetos cock block me.” You let out a laugh and push at Xaden’s shoulders again, shimmying out from his grasp.

Padding across the room you open your armoire and collect your flying leathers. As you strip you feel Xaden’s eyes on you. You look over your shoulder at him. Smirking you ask, “Enjoying the view?” “I’d enjoy it a lot better if the view was under me screaming my name right now.”

You roll your eyes turning back to finish changing. After lacing up your boots you pad over to bed and kiss his forehead. “I’ll be back in an hour or so, tops. You can stay if you want and then we can finish what we started hmm.” Xaden let’s out a dramatic sigh, “Fine. But if this heads into an hour and a half I’m getting on Sgaeyl and dragging you back here myself.”

You give him one last kiss before leaving. “Ok tough guy.” As you open the door you look back and see Xaden watching you with a sad look on his face. You give him a sad smile and whisper, “Get some more sleep baby.” And head out for training.

tags: @wrotethestars @nyotamalfoy @auggiesolovey @bubybubsters @baybay123455 @msiecrane @aroseinvelaris @twsssmlmaa

[breezyblossoms]

Y/N wasn’t sure when she had started waiting for Xaden Riorson.

Maybe it had been back at Basgiath, when she first let him into her bed, knowing full well she’d never have his heart.

Maybe it had been after a battle, when he pulled her into his arms with shaking hands, holding on too tight—like he wasn’t sure if she’d still be there if he let go.

Maybe it had been always. And maybe that was the problem. Because Xaden never chose her. Not really. Not in the way that mattered.

And yet, Y/N had let herself believe—stupidly, hopelessly believe—that one day, he would. That one day, he’d look at her and see more. But she saw the truth now.

Because he was looking at her. At Violet Sorrengail. And Gods help her, Y/N had never seen his eyes that soft before.

Her breath caught, something sharp and vicious tearing through her chest. Because she knew that look. She had dreamed of that look. But it had never been for her.

Her fingers curled into fists at her sides, nails biting into her palms. Because of course it was Violet. Violet, who had fought her way through Basgiath. Violet, who had tamed Xaden’s dragon’s mate—a dragon that should’ve never chosen her. Violet, who had done in months what Y/N had never been able to do.

She had his heart.

And Y/N—

Y/N had never even been close.

Her throat burned. Because this wasn’t just losing him. She had never had him to begin with. And that was the part that hurt the most.

Xaden turned then, his gaze flicking toward her—and for one awful, unbearable second, their eyes met. His expression shifted. Like he knew. Like he understood exactly what she was thinking. Like he felt guilt. But guilt wasn’t love. Guilt wasn’t choosing her.

And Y/N was done waiting for something that was never hers to begin with. So she forced her lips into something that might’ve been a smile—might’ve looked real if it weren’t for the way her heart was cracking, splintering, breaking apart piece by piece.

And then—

She turned and walked away. Because almost didn’t count. Not anymore.

⸻

Xaden noticed immediately.

The first time Y/N wasn’t there—wasn’t where she always was—he ignored it.

The second time, something cold curled in his stomach.

The third time, he knew. She was avoiding him.

And Xaden Riorson did not handle losing well. Especially not when he hadn’t even realized he was playing a game.

He caught glimpses of her—passing shadows, fleeting moments before she turned the corner, before she slipped away.

And he let her. For a while. Because Gods help him, he didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know why it felt like his chest was hollowing out every time he realized she wasn’t coming back. Didn’t know why her absence felt sharper than any blade, more suffocating than any battle wound.

Until the fourth time.

Until he saw her with someone else. She wasn’t laughing. Wasn’t even smiling. But she was trying.

And Xaden—stupid, oblivious, undeserving Xaden—finally understood. It wasn’t just that she was avoiding him.

She was moving on.

And that, he realized, was unforgivable. Not because she didn’t deserve to. But because he should’ve never let her think she had to. Because Y/N had always been there. In the quiet moments, in the war-torn ones. In his bed, in his arms.

He had never needed to wonder where she would be. Until now. Until he fucked it all up.

And Xaden Riorson didn’t lose things he wasn’t willing to fight for.

So he found her.

Cornered her.

Late at night, when she was least expecting it. When she had finally stopped looking over her shoulder for him. Because she thought he wouldn’t come. Because he had given her every reason to believe that.

But she was wrong.

Xaden pressed a hand against the doorframe, blocking her escape as she turned to find him standing there, his expression raw, desperate, furious.

She froze. Her breath hitched.

And Xaden had to clench his fists to keep himself from reaching for her. Because Gods help him, he had never wanted anything more.

But Y/N—

Y/N only tilted her head, her voice flat when she said, “Move.”

Xaden let out a slow, measured breath. “No.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Xaden—”

“You walked away,” he cut her off, his voice quiet, sharp. “And I let you.”

Her jaw clenched. “So what, now you’re here to fix your conscience?”

No.

It had never been about guilt. It had always been about her. But she didn’t see that. Because he had never let her see it. Because he had let her believe she was temporary.

Xaden stepped closer, the air shifting between them.

“You think I didn’t notice?” His voice was low, rough, almost dangerous.

Because it wasn’t just noticing. It was feeling. Feeling her absence in every empty space she had left behind. Feeling the ache in his chest every time he looked for her and found nothing. Feeling like a fucking idiot for never realizing that she had been his before he even knew he had something to lose.

Y/N exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “Don’t do this, Xaden.”

“Do what?” he murmured.

Her throat bobbed. “Make this harder than it has to be.”

He let out a quiet, humorless laugh.

“Hard?” He stepped even closer. “You think this is hard for you?”

Her breath caught, but she didn’t move back. Didn’t run. And that was the only thing that kept him fucking standing. Because she was still here. Still listening. Still his, even if she didn’t want to be.

Xaden swallowed hard, his voice dropping to something honest, something wrecked.

“I can’t lose you.”

She blinked.

Like she hadn’t expected the words. Like she didn’t believe them.

And that? That nearly killed him. Because fuck, she had spent all this time thinking she was something he could just let go.

Like she hadn’t been his every damn day. Like she wasn’t the thing that had kept him breathing, fighting, alive.

“I can’t lose you,” he said again, softer this time.

And Gods help him, it was the truest thing he had ever said.

Her breath shuddered. Her hands fisted at her sides.

And for a long, unbearable moment—

She didn’t say a word. Didn’t tell him to leave. Didn’t tell him it was too late.

And Xaden—for the first time in his life—let himself hope.

Because Y/N had walked away.

But maybe—just maybe—she wasn’t ready to let him go either.

⸻

Y/N didn’t make it easy for him.

She didn’t fall into his arms. Didn’t sigh in relief and tell him she had been waiting for him all along.

Because that would have been a lie.

She had stopped waiting. Stopped hoping for something he had never been willing to give her.

And if he thought a few pretty words were enough to pull her back into his orbit—

He was wrong.

Xaden must have realized it too. Because the moment she narrowed her eyes, the moment she crossed her arms and tilted her chin up, his expression turned grim. Like he knew exactly what she was about to say. Like he knew she was going to make this hard.

And for once—finally—he didn’t run from it.

Y/N exhaled slowly, carefully.

“Prove it.”

Xaden’s jaw ticked. “I am.”

“No,” she said, voice sharp, cold. “You’re saying it. That’s not the same thing.”

A muscle feathered in his jaw. “Then tell me how.”

Y/N let out a humorless laugh.

“You want me to tell you how to love me?” she murmured, tilting her head. “That’s funny, Xaden. I thought love was supposed to be instinctual.”

His fingers curled into tight, shaking fists.

“Y/N—”

“No,” she cut him off. “You don’t get to show up and say you can’t lose me after choosing her every single time.”

His lips parted—but he didn’t argue.

Because he couldn’t.

Because it was true.

And Gods help her, the silence was worse than any excuse he could have given her.

Because he knew. He had always known.

She let out a slow breath, forcing herself to stay standing when all she wanted to do was crumple.

She had promised herself she wouldn’t break for him again. But gods, he was making it hard.

“I need to know I’m not just an afterthought,” she said, her voice low, steady.

He lifted his head at that, his eyes flashing with something dark, something wrecked.

“You’ve never been an afterthought,” he said, his voice sharp, furious. “Not to me.”

Y/N’s chest ached. But she shook her head.

“Then prove it.”

And this time, he didn’t hesitate.

⸻

Xaden knew it was coming. Because Gods help him, she was right.

She had never been an afterthought. But the problem was—neither was Violet. Not with their dragons bonded for life. Not with their destinies tangled, whether they wanted it or not. Not with the war, with Basgiath, with everything.

But Y/N wasn’t going to be a second choice. Not anymore. And that meant he had to prove it.

Starting with Sgaeyl.

It wasn’t a secret that his dragon favored Y/N. Sgaeyl had always preferred her, had always sought her out over Violet, despite the bond between their dragons.

Xaden had always thought it was amusing.

But now—

Now, it wasn’t a game. Because Sgaeyl had chosen. And Xaden wasn’t sure what that meant for everything else. Y/N stood in the clearing, arms crossed as she watched him. Not angry. Not hopeful. Just waiting.

Sgaeyl’s head turned toward him. “Fix this,” she said in his mind. “Now.”

Xaden exhaled sharply. “You tell me how,” he muttered.

Sgaeyl let out a deep, considering hum. Then, she said, “I cannot break a bond that is not mine.”

Xaden stilled.

Because that—that was new. Y/N raised a brow. “Well?” Xaden let out a slow, careful breath.

“There’s only one way to prove it,” he admitted.

Her brows lifted. “And that is?”

Xaden swallowed. “Choose you over her.”

Y/N’s lips parted. And Xaden waited.

Because Gods help him, he was finally choosing. And this time, he prayed to every god that ever existed that he wasn’t too late.

⸻

Xaden Riorson had spent his entire life fighting for survival.

Fighting for power. For revenge. For a future that wasn’t dictated by the sins of his father. But he had never fought for love. Never had to.

Because until now, he had never been at risk of losing the one person he couldn’t live without.

And Y/N—Gods help him—was making damn sure he earned every second of her time.

The tension between Xaden and Violet was palpable.

It had been since the moment Sgaeyl had chosen Y/N over her. Not that Violet had ever been oblivious to it. She was smart. Too smart. She had noticed the way Sgaeyl sought Y/N out first. The way Xaden’s gaze always lingered on her. The way Y/N had started to disappear.

And now? Now, Violet wasn’t oblivious at all.

Xaden found her waiting for him outside the barracks, arms crossed, her expression cool, calculating.

“I didn’t want to believe it,” she said simply.

Xaden didn’t pretend not to know what she meant. Instead, he exhaled sharply. “But you did.”

She nodded. “I saw the way she looked at you.”

His stomach tightened.

“More importantly,” Violet continued, tilting her head. “I saw the way you looked at her.”

Xaden didn’t answer. Because there was nothing to deny.

She let out a slow breath. “This is going to make things… complicated.”

It already was. With their dragons bonded, their destinies were already tangled. But that wasn’t the same as love. And Violet knew it.

“Then we make it uncomplicated,” Xaden said, steady, certain.

Her lips parted slightly. Because they both knew what that meant. What that had to mean. They couldn’t be more than what they were. Couldn’t blur the lines. Couldn’t pretend their dragons’ bond was the same as their own. Because Xaden had made his choice. And it wasn’t her.

For a long moment, Violet was silent. Then, finally, she nodded. And Gods help him, Xaden felt it shift.

The last thread of uncertainty snapping.

Because for the first time—truly, fully, undeniably—he was free to fight for the person he should have been fighting for all along.

⸻

It wasn’t enough.

Not to prove himself. Not to undo the damage he had caused. Because Y/N wasn’t an idiot. She wasn’t going to fall at his feet just because he had finally woken up. So she made him work for it.

She didn’t let him touch her. Didn’t let him fall into old habits. Didn’t let him have her until she was sure she had all of him. Because if he wanted her—really wanted her—it had to be all or nothing.

Xaden gritted his teeth when she dodged him for the fourth time in a week. He had done everything. Given her space. Let her set the pace. But fuck if he wasn’t losing his mind.

Because every time he caught a glimpse of her, every time her gaze locked with his across the training yard, every time she turned away before he could say something—

It felt like a slow, torturous death. So when he finally cornered her—again—she didn’t look surprised. Didn’t look apologetic.

Just calm. Waiting. Testing him.

Xaden exhaled slowly, measured.

“What else do you want from me?”

Y/N tilted her head. Unmoved. “I don’t want anything from you, Xaden.”

His chest tightened.

“Then why are you still here?” His voice was quiet, dangerous.

She smirked, but there was no warmth in it.

“I’m not. You’re the one chasing me, remember?”

His lips parted. Because fuck. She wasn’t wrong. He was chasing her. The way she used to chase him. And Gods help him, it was terrifying. Because for the first time, she held all the power. And he—the one who had spent his entire life controlling every possible outcome—was at her mercy.

“I know I fucked up,” he admitted, his voice rough, raw.

Her smirk faded.

“But I also know,” he continued, his eyes dark, intense, unrelenting, “that you’re still standing here. Which means a part of you wants to see if I’ll fight for you.”

She inhaled sharply. But she didn’t deny it. And Xaden knew. Knew she still wanted him. Knew this wasn’t about whether she had feelings for him. It was about whether he deserved them.

And Gods help him, he would spend the rest of his life proving that he did.

⸻

Xaden Riorson had always thought he understood pain.

The bite of a blade, the snap of broken ribs, the searing agony of dragon fire. But this—watching Y/N slip through his fingers, watching her smile at someone who wasn’t him—this was a different kind of torment.

Because she wasn’t his to lose. Not yet. And Gods help him, she was making him suffer for it.

He saw her again.

With him.

The first time, Xaden convinced himself it was nothing.

The second time, he clenched his fists but stayed quiet.

The third time?

He barely stopped himself from snapping the bastard’s neck.

Y/N stood close to the other rider—too close. Her head tilted back as she laughed at something he said.

Not forced. Not polite.

Real.

Xaden felt something dark and ugly curl in his stomach. Something he had never had to experience before.

Jealousy.

Not the petty kind. The kind that ate away at his fucking soul. Because that used to be him. That used to be his space beside her. His words making her laugh. His gaze catching hers across the training yard, a secret flickering between them.

But now?

Now, he was nothing more than a spectator. And Gods help him, it was driving him insane.

Sgaeyl’s voice rumbled in his mind. “You could simply go to her.”

His jaw tightened. No. Not yet. Not until she was ready. Not until she was the one choosing him again. But Gods help him, if she didn’t stop smiling at that bastard soon, he was going to—

“You’re scowling.”

Xaden whipped around to find Violet watching him, arms crossed.

He exhaled sharply. “I’m aware.”

Violet smirked. “Not a fan of Y/N’s new friend?”

He shot her a glare.

She laughed. “Oh, relax. They’re not like that.”

Xaden stilled. “What?”

Violet arched a brow. “You really think she’s replaced you that easily?”

His throat felt tight. “I don’t know what to think.”

Violet sighed, shaking her head. “It’s platonic. You’d know that if you stopped sulking in the shadows and actually talked to her.”

Xaden gritted his teeth. “She’s the one avoiding me.”

“Is she?”

That fucking smirk. Violet had always been too perceptive for her own good. And the worst part? She wasn’t wrong.

It happened on a stormy night. When the tension was so thick it felt like it could snap.

Y/N had gone to the training grounds, seeking solitude.

But of course, Xaden followed.

She sensed him before he spoke. Always did. But she didn’t turn around. Didn’t acknowledge him.

Until—

“I know it’s platonic,” he said quietly.

She stiffened. Then slowly turned to face him. “Excuse me?”

Xaden took a step closer, his gaze unreadable.

“I know you’re not with him.”

Y/N tilted her head, something dangerous and mocking in her eyes.

“And?”

Xaden exhaled sharply. “And it doesn’t fucking matter.”

Her lips parted slightly. Because this was different. This wasn’t him asking for another chance. This wasn’t him chasing her, hoping she’d let him in. This was him standing his ground. Him refusing to pretend he wasn’t hers.

“I don’t care if you’re not with him,” he said, voice low, steady.

“I don’t care how long you make me wait. How hard you make this.”

He stepped closer.

Crowding her. Consuming her.

“I don’t care if you never admit that you still love me,” he murmured. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

Y/N’s breath caught.

Because Gods help her, she had spent weeks waiting for him to crack. To slip back into old habits. To fail. But he hadn’t. He had stayed. Even when she made him suffer. Even when she pushed him away.

Because for the first time, he was fighting for her. And Gods help her, she wanted to believe him. But believing him meant admitting she had never stopped loving him. And that? That was terrifying.

Xaden must have seen it in her eyes. Because his gaze softened, just slightly.

And then, he broke her.

“I was a fool,” he admitted, his voice raw.

“For thinking you’d always be there. For thinking I could have you without giving you everything.”

He swallowed hard.

“But I’m here now.”

A pause. Then, the final blow.

“And I’m not leaving. Not ever.”

Y/N shattered. Because fuck, she wanted to believe him.

And maybe—

Maybe she finally did.

She let out a shaky breath. And then, finally, she stopped running.

Xaden barely had time to react before she grabbed the front of his shirt and crashed her lips against his. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t slow. It was desperate, aching, furious. It was everything they had been holding back.

Xaden let out a low, guttural sound, his hands sliding into her hair, gripping her like she might disappear. Like he was never going to let her go. Because he wasn’t. Not this time. Not ever.

And as her fingers tightened around him, as she finally, finally let herself believe him—

Xaden Riorson knew one thing.

The suffering had been worth it. Because in the end, he had won the only war that mattered.

Her.

[saintsanddevils]

Unravel Me

Liam Mairi x Fem!Reader

Summary: Grief is your constant companion as you struggle to come to terms with losing Liam. You can’t handle the memories, so you ask Imogen to take them away.

Warnings: ‼️18+ (MDNI) explicit content‼️, smut, grief, death, blood, some violence, angst, ALL HURT/no comfort, first person reader pov

Author’s Note: This is probably my fav story I’ve written so far! Liam is my favorite of all of the Fourth Wing men & I’ve been dying to write this for so long. - also, every person who has checked in on me about burnout, thank you, you’re incredibly kind & I appreciate all the love!!

Word Count: 8.6K

AO3 link

Masterlist

• • • •

The stone archway is the only thing keeping me from collapsing to the ground. I lay my back against it, trying to keep myself standing. Breaths saw through my lungs in jagged, sharp inhales. A knife cutting through me from the inside out.

Storm clouds form in the sky above, ominous in the setting sun. The smell of wet stone and soil fills the air as I try to still my racing heart.

It’s been one month.

One month.

Four weeks.

Thirty days.

Seven hundred and twenty-two hours and counting since Liam has been gone.

Knees shaking, I close my eyes, breathing deeply. But the breaths come quicker and faster. The image of Liam’s broken, bloody face surfacing unbidden. The way his blue eyes frosted over before closing, his skin cracked and pale as he slumped against Deigh’s red scales.

Rough, uneven breaths escape me. Thunder rumbles the ground beneath my feet, the summer air chilled by the cool of rain. Each breath clouds around me as I stand beneath an arch, facing the open courtyard.

The very courtyard where I first met Liam.

I remember the way his eyes lit with a teasing gleam when they first met mine. He was playful, flirtatious, but his eyes captured me. Like crystal glass, filled with murky seawater shining in the sunlight. I’d never seen such a blue.

The memory stings, sharp and insistent with its presence. Since his death, I’ve been left with nothing but every memory I have of him. Each one imprinted upon me, unique and shining. How he smiled, fully and entirely intoxicating, when I entered the room. The way his skin glided against mine between sheets. The feel of his calloused hand gripping my own. His lips coasting mine, teasing, before claiming them for his own, stealing the breath in my lungs.

Every day since his death has been my own personal hell. Waking up, alone, forms a hollow ache within my chest that grows with every second. I never want to leave my bed.

For the first week, everyone grieved alongside me. But we’re in the middle of a war. We can’t waste any time.

Only the pestering of my squad mates and the force behind my dragon’s insistent encouragement force me out of my room now. Although they try to hide it, they’re concerned for me. I act like I can’t feel their penetrating gazes, but it’s suffocating.

Every day is suffocating.

Distantly, I hear someone call my name. With my eyes closed, I can pretend I’m not here. I can pretend he’s alive. I can pretend I will find him standing before me, smiling, when I open my eyes. That he’ll tell me I worry too much and he’ll kiss the rain from my cheeks and lips.

When I open my eyes, it’s not him standing there. It’s Imogen.

Concern lines her face as she stares at me. “I’m so sorry. I can’t.”

Tears burn my eyes as the rain begins to fall harder. Overcome by a heaviness crushing my ribs, my knees start to shake. I can’t tell if I’m holding on to the wall or if it’s the one keeping me up.

“Please,” I beg, voice cracking. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t wake up tomorrow with this pain,” I grip my chest, swallowing the grief threatening to choke me. “It’s like a living, breathing thing inside of me. It’s poisoning me. I…I can’t do it anymore.”

Sobs escape from my lips, gasping and heaving. I must sound like a tortured animal as I collapse to the ground, cracking my knees against the stone. The pain grounds me as I slump against the wall.

This pressure on my chest, the one that settled there as I watched Liam limp towards Deigh a month ago, is stifling me. It’s growing more and more, crushing my lungs, severing my breaths as I cling to the stone beneath my fingers.

I completely forget Imogen until she’s stepping towards me. She watches the tears fall from my eyes, shared sorrow evident in her posture. She, too, knew Liam well. They all did. It wasn’t just me who lost him.

But she knows what he was to me. What I was to him.

I don’t know what convinces her. Maybe it’s the tears. Maybe it’s my pathetic whimpers. Or maybe it’s the hollow look in my eyes as grief consumes me. All I know is she’s staring at me with concern and hesitant understanding. And I cling to that like a lifeline.

“Okay,” her voice sobers me from my tears.

A shaky breath. Another.

“Really?” My whisper is broken in the space between us.

She nods slowly. “I’ll do it. But you have to know what you’re asking me to do.”

I nod back, aware of her hands as they clench and unclench at her sides.

The idea came to me last week when a cadet mocked Violet about losing her “guard dog”. Violet flinched and, suddenly, there he was. Xaden was a feral, untamed thing as he hurled himself at the cadet.

It should’ve been me. I should’ve hurt that dumbass cadet. I wish it had been me as I watched Xaden deliver blow after blow on the cadet before being thrown back by Garrick. My knees and hands were shaking as I watched him be crowded against the wall, restrained as the injured cadet ran down the hall like a fucking coward.

Grief is something that’s different for everyone. I think the only person who knew an ounce of what I felt was Xaden. He lost not only a friend but a brother. He loved him.

And as I stood there, staring as Violet calmed Xaden, I had known this grief would pass for him. It would haunt him forever, but it would scar over. He would heal because he had Violet. He had Garrick and Imogen and Bodhi.

I had Liam.

A steadiness settles in me as I meet her gaze. “I know what I’m asking.”

She closes her eyes, briefly, as if debating if this is worth the risk, before raising her hands towards me.

“You need to stay perfectly still,” she instructs, kneeling before me. “I’m not going to lie to you. This will hurt like hell, but the pain won’t last long. It should fade, along with the memories you want me to erase.”

I nod as trepidation and nerves slowly creep up my spine, causing my hands to shake. I clench them, steeling myself. Forcing determination to settle on my shoulders.

Imogen settles herself before me, waiting for my signal before touching the skin of my temples. The pink of her hair is darker in the low lighting, thunder gradually fading in the distance as rain continues to fall.

“Are you sure?” She asks, voice hesitant.

A flash of Liam’s smile has my gut twisting. Liam used to say that love was something he never thought would happen to him. That love was a fairytale.

After almost a year of being together, he whispered with shaky breaths, “I’ve never loved someone like I love you. You’re the other half of something I didn’t know was missing. Something so tied within me, I feel you always.”

I’d gripped him tightly, clinging to him as I kissed his collarbone, neck, all the way up to his jaw. “I feel you, too.”

He shook his head, lips brushing my ear. “Don’t you think it’s terrifying that at any moment, it could be gone? I could lose you?”

I’d given him reassurances. False promises.

I didn’t know I’d lose him so soon. I didn’t know loving him would become a curse.

Wanting something I can’t ever have again will kill me. I can’t do it anymore.

“Yes,” I answer Imogen. “I’m sure.”

She hesitates, only for a moment, before closing her eyes. I close my own, letting the rain wash my doubts away.

Pressure builds behind my eyes, steady and gradual at her fingertips. I can feel her presence in my mind.

“Start from your most recent memory,” she says. “And slowly go further and further until you reach the oldest one.”

I pause, my heart racing frantically in my chest as I immediately recall the last time I saw Liam.

“No!” I scream, but it’s too late.

Deigh slumps to the ground, motionless.

Blood drips from my hands as I run towards Liam, whose eyes meet mine in wide panic. I watch him stagger forward, limping, before collapsing to the dirt.

I’m there, holding him up as his body begins to slump. Xaden appears, helping me, but I barely glance at him. My entire focus is on Liam’s shallow breathing.

“Take me to him,” he whispers roughly, chest rising and falling jaggedly.

We help bring Liam to Deigh. My shaking hands cling to him as we settle him against the red scales of his dragon. Xaden lingers beside me as we both kneel before Liam, whose gaze is fixed on his friend.

“You’re the brother I’ve always wanted,” he smiles. “Don’t forget where you came from. Who you are, and who you’ll become.”

Tears well in Xaden’s eyes as he nods.

I feel like I’m intruding on a moment between them, but I can’t bring myself to leave Liam’s side.

“I-“ he swallows, gaze fixated on Violet behind us. “I hope I did enough-“

“You did,” Xaden smiles, tears now falling down his cheeks. “You did everything you could and more.”

Liam nods, tears in his own eyes. Xaden leans forward to hold him, one last time.

Liam mumbles something to him I can’t hear before Xaden backs away, back towards Violet. I catch Xaden looking at me, guilt written across his features, but I don’t acknowledge it. I can’t waste any second we have left.

Liam finally, finally, meets my gaze. His jaw clenches as he watches the tears streaming down my skin. His fingers reach up, wiping them away. I lean into his hand on instinct, forcing myself to memorize the way his calloused skin feels against mine.

“I don’t know how to say goodbye,” I whisper.

Liam’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Then don’t.”

He pulls me forward, kissing me with his last breaths. I don’t hesitate. I kiss him with every fiber of my being, knowing I won’t have this for much longer. The feel of his lips will stay with me until I, too, meet Malek at the end of this life. Where I hope he waits for me.

When we part, I lean my forehead against his, breaths sawing through me like a serrated knife’s edge.

“I-I can’t lose you,” I gasp.

His skin is pale, almost gray-tinted, as his fingers softly touch my cheek. “You won’t lose me forever. I’ll see you again.”

A sob escapes my lips before I kiss him again. “I love you. Always.”

Liam’s smile is full of sorrow as he kisses me back. “I’ll love you beyond my last breath,” he whispers against my lips.

His fingers suddenly caress the back of my head, tilting my face to look up at him. There’s a severity in his eyes as he stares down at me. “Every moment we have had is something I’ll cherish long after I’m gone. I’ve never felt so lucky,” he kisses the tip of my nose, the top of my cheeks. “Whatever becomes of me, my soul,” a tear falls from his eye as his gaze holds me captive. “I’ll always be with you.”

I turn my head to kiss the palm of his hand. “I’ll always need you.”

“Not always,” he shakes his head. “I need you to promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“Live,” his smile is beaming as blood trickles down the side of his head from an open cut, staining his blonde hair. “Live and forget me.”

“But-“

“I want you to grow old, live a full life. Fight to live beyond whatever this war will bring.”

I shake my head. “How am I supposed to forget you? You’re all I have.”

“No, I’m not. You have so much to live for, don’t let me stand in the way of something greater ahead of you.” I try to refute, but Liam silences me with another kiss. “You’re the one thing in my life that’s made all of this worth it. For that, I’m grateful for the time I was given with you.”

A whimper escapes me and Liam holds me, breathing me in.

“I kept my promise.” He kisses me once, twice.

In the space between us, we breathe together. I hold my hand to his chest, feeling the rise and fall. One long, deep, shaky breath, a whisper of my name, and he stills.

Silence crowds around me, choking the air as I weep into the skin of his neck, holding him close. A scream builds in my throat as his body grows cold beneath me. Rage rises like a tidal wave within me, numbing the pain.

They’ll pay. Every last Venin will die for this. For what they took from me.

I’m covered in sweat, blood, and dried tears by the time the sun sets and the Venin are defeated in Athebyne. For now.

Flames reach towards the sky, flickering and grasping for the stars. I grip my sword, Liam’s sword, tightly in my hand. Blood trickles down my skin across the blade as I stare into the fire.

Liam’s body burns atop the pyre. Ashes scatter in the breeze as everyone stands to watch. We all lived, and it sickens me. We survived, and Liam, the best of us, didn’t.

Bitterness settles next to the grief. It burns like acid in my gut. The last thing I remember is Violet’s hand gripping my own in comfort.

“You’re not alone,” she whispers.

But I am. I’m entirely alone.

The memory is ripped from my grasp, leaving me gasping, heaving, as the ache in my chest burns.

Before I can steady myself, I’m thrown into another.

Arms wrap around my torso, pulling me close to a firm chest as dim light filters through the arched windows.

“Good morning to you, too,” I whisper, groggily.

A breathy chuckle against my spine has my skin prickling. “Morning, love.”

I bask in the warmth of his arms, the feel of his muscles flexing against my skin as he kisses my shoulder. He hums, continuing kissing up my shoulder to my neck, shifting my hair to kiss up my jaw. I shiver, as his fingers trail down my torso to my hips, pulling the hem of my nightdress up my thighs.

“Liam,” I breathe.

I feel him smile against my ear as he nips at it. “Yes, love? Need something?”

His fingers trail up my thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake. When his calloused hand reaches the edge of my underwear, Liam’s lips caress my bottom lip.

I whisper against him, “I need you.”

“Whatever you want, I’ll give you,” he smirks before his lips collide with mine.

He kisses me with a lazy, unhurried pace. As if we have all the time in the world.

I shift in his arms, gaining better access to his mouth as I tangle my tongue with his. My fingers dive through his hair as his own slip beneath the lace of my underwear. His skin is warm and rough against me as the tips of his fingers glide across where I want him most.

“Already wet for me, darling?” He growls into my mouth.

I moan as his fingers sink inside me, pumping agonizingly slow. He continues to tease and caress as I melt in his arms. When his thumb rubs smooth circles around my clit, heat begins to prickle at the base of my core. I’m already climbing to my peak, heaving and gasping breaths as he pumps his long, thick fingers in and out, gaining speed the more I moan his name.

“You’re intoxicating,” he groans as he bites my lip. “I fucking love waking up to you like this. Soaked and ready for me.”

A gasp falls from my lips just before he pinches my clit. Light flashes beneath my lids as I cry out, fire blazing up my body as I fall into the rhythm of his fingers. I pulse and squeeze around him as my hands grip onto him tightly. When I come down from my climax, a pounding on the door has me jolting.

“Don’t make me break this fucking door down!” I hear Xaden’s voice yell.

Liam groans, slumping against me. “Shit.”

The bed shifts as he rolls off the bed, covering me with the blankets before throwing open the door.

“What?”

There’s a pause before I hear Xaden’s low chuckle. “Sorry to disrupt your morning, but we have to leave.”

Liam’s shoulders tense. “Now? What happened?”

People are running in the hall, shouts echoing off the walls that force me to sit up, staring in confusion at the chaos.

“Get dressed,” Xaden commands, all amusement gone.

“What’s going on?” Liam asks again.

I can see Xaden’s jaw clench as he stares at his foster brother. “They’re calling us down to the flight field. War Games.”

Liam’s grip on the doorframe whitens his knuckles. “How many minutes do we have?”

Xaden hesitates. “Less than ten, but you need-“

“We’ll meet you on the field.” Liam slams the door shut.

When he turns to me, his eyes are blazing like blue fire. He stalks forward, standing at the edge of our bed. His hands shoot out and drag me to the edge, making me squeal. His fingers tear the lace from me, leaving me bare before him before forcing my legs open. He’s kneeling as I sit up, watching him as he leans forward to lick up my slit in one swift, precise movement. I groan, head falling back as I buck against his unyielding grip.

“But we have to go,” I gasp when he does it once more.

His voice is rough and gravelly as his lips caress my heat. “Guess I have to make every second count.”

The memory fades, like the burning of paper. Ashes scattering in my mind as pain radiates up my spine, throbbing at my temples. I bite my lip to keep myself from screaming as the pressure builds.

My head pounds as I’m thrown further, another memory crashing over me.

“Fuck, baby, that’s it,” Liam groans against my ear, pumping deep into me. “You’re taking me so well.”

I whine, shifting my hips to meet him with every thrust. He hits inside of me deliciously, stars dancing across my vision as his hands hold my waist, pressing me into the sheets.

An urgency fills us as we stop pacing ourselves and chase that fire slowly burning beneath our skin. It races in our blood as our skin slicks with sweat, breaths gasping.

Liam shifts his hips upward on the next thrust, making me moan into his collarbone.

“Gods, do that again.”

Liam smirks, blue eyes glittering when they meet mine. “As you wish.”

The memory warps, lost to time, as I’m thrown further, again and again, into one memory after another and another.

The mat presses against my cheek as Liam holds me down. I can tell he’s holding back since his weight isn’t entirely crushing me.

That’s a mistake he’ll surely regret.

I twist my legs, elbowing him in the face as I throw my weight onto him. He rolls, falling to the mat as I climb atop him, my elbow pressing into his throat to cut off his air supply. My legs hold his arms down to keep him from moving.

He struggles for a moment, but the shining pride in his eyes is what causes butterflies to flutter in my stomach.

“I love it when you throw me around,” he chokes out. I raise my elbow slightly to lessen the pressure on his throat.

I chuckle, leaning forward until we’re inches apart. “You like it when I make you do what I want?”

He smiles. “Keep looking at me like that and I’ll beg for it.”

Paper crumples in his hand, frustration steeling his jaw as he throws it at the wall.

“Stop,” I say, reaching for his clenched fingers. “Stop blaming yourself. It won’t do anything good.”

His hard eyes meet mine, immediately softening. “I don’t know what to do,” his voice is broken, hushed. “I wish I could find her, hide her, take her as far from this as possible.” He shakes his head, closing his eyes. “Sloane doesn’t deserve this life.”

Bringing my hand to his cheek, I force him to open his eyes. “You can’t change the future just as you can’t change the past,” I give him a small smile. “She’ll be okay, Liam. She’ll have us.”

Liam’s gaze holds mine as he breathes deeply. We sit there, suspended in time, as he grips me with shaking hands. I know he’s fighting tears as much as he’s fighting the urge to throw a punch at the wall. But with me here, he slowly begins to calm.

When he grabs my hand laying on his cheek, he kisses it. “I guess I should be grateful she’ll finally meet you.”

I smile at the idea. “I hope she likes me.”

He grips me tighter. “She’ll love you. Besides,” he leans forward, inches from me. “She’ll have to since she’ll be putting up with you for a very, very long time.”

I raise a teasing brow. “How long will that be for?”

“If it’s up to me,” he breathes against my lips. “For the rest of our lives.”

The sunset flickers across the horizon over the distant mountains, casting the room in a dim, fading gold light. It refracts off Liam’s eyes, making the blue iridescent, as he smiles against my lips.

“Will you stay?”

I smile back, nipping his bottom lip. “Always.”

“I-I don’t want to wake up alone anymore.” He hesitates, swallowing. “Move in here with me. Share my bed and steal my blankets. Get dressed with me every morning. I don’t want to waste a moment without you next to me. Make this room both of ours.”

Tears gather in my eyes as warmth fills me, settling in my chest.

I kiss him recklessly, leaving us both breathless as I whisper, “Gods, I love you.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “You have no idea.”

Two cadets with fowl breath and malice in their eyes crowd around me. My heart beats wildly in my throat as I back away. Their hands sharp and insistent as they push me to the corner of the hall. Their hands locked on my wrists to keep me from running.

“Get. Your. Fucking. Hands. Off. Her.”

The words cut through the air like a knife laced with venom. It startles the men, who bolt upright to turn and see who spoke.

Liam’s face is a mask of fury as he strides down the hall. The second our gazes collide, he unleashes himself on them. He throws a punch at one of their faces, knocking them against the wall. The other, he tackles into the brick, cracking the back of the cadet’s skull. He groans as Liam throws punch after punch, blood spraying, before throwing the man to the ground. The other cadet is there, stumbling forward and hurling himself at Liam.

I scream when I see the flash of a dagger. Liam catches it within seconds. Being the best of our year has its benefits as he twists the blade out of the cadet’s grip and stabs it to the hilt into his arm. The cadet’s eyes widen, blood trickling from his mouth as he screams, falling to the ground.

The other cadet bleeds next to him, panting.

“What the fuck?” He groans.

Liam stands, blood soaking his clenched fists at his sides as he stares them down. “You touched her, tried to hurt her, you even scared her.” He shakes his head. “You don’t get to live after that.”

The cadet Liam punched over and over again is now trying to crawl away, but it’s too late. Liam is there, hauling him to his feet and holding him against the wall by his throat.

“Liam,” I whisper, fear rattling my voice.

He stops. Everything stops as he lets go of the cadet and turns to me. He’s there, holding me as he quickly examines every inch of exposed skin.

“Yes, love? Did they hurt you?”

I shake my head. “No, I’m f-fine,” I step closer to him, cradling his bleeding hands in mine. “Just please get me out of here.”

He nods, not even sparing them a second glance as he whisks me out of the corridor. We walk quickly until we’re outside in a courtyard. Under a stone arch he stops, pressing me against the wall as he holds me close.

“You looked so afraid,” he whispers in my hair. “I-I couldn’t handle it. Did-“ he hesitates. “Did I scare you?”

“You could never scare me,” I hold him tighter as the lingering fear begins to fade. A warmth settling in me from his close proximity. A sense of rightness at the feel of his arms around me.

He pulls back, looking me over once more. “If those fuckers laid a finger on you-“

I smile softly. “You stopped them before it got worse. I’m alright.”

He nods, forehead touching mine in defeat as his shoulders sag, releasing all the pent-up tension inside of him. “If I wasn’t there, if things were worse, I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you. Who I’d become.”

I burrow into him, letting his warmth chase every horrible thought away. “But you didn’t lose me. You won’t.”

Liam shakes his head. “I need you to promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“Promise me you’ll fight. You’ll fight till your last breath to stay alive, to see the next day. I can’t-“ he swallows. “I couldn’t live knowing I could’ve saved you. But I can’t always be there.”

“You don’t need to be, but I’m grateful you were there today,” I press closer. “I promise to fight and not give up.”

He nods, satisfied. Silence envelops us as the night breeze whistles through the courtyard.

The moon shines on his blue eyes, making them almost silver as he says, “And I promise to fight for you, too. To love you and keep you safe. Till my last breath. You can hold me to that.”

Music floats through the air as Liam holds me close, hands intertwining as he guides me to an alcove covered in shadows. I stifle a laugh as we race through the corridor. We ignore the shouting taunts from Ridoc and Sawyer down the hall as they head back to the party.

Once we’re out of earshot and covered by the dark, Liam presses me against the stone of the alcove. He doesn’t waste a second. His lips are on mine, holding me captive. He’s insistent and intoxicating as he consumes me with just a kiss. He smells of liquor and desire, making me feel lightheaded.

His rough fingers drag the fabric of my dress up as his lips begin to trail down my jaw, neck, and chest. Before I can protest, he’s kneeling, throwing the fabric up to expose my legs to the cool night air.

“Liam!” I whisper-shout. “Someone will see!”

Liam raises a brow. “Then you better keep quiet.”

He grips the back of my leg, tossing it over his shoulder as he disappears beneath my dress. His breath is hot against my skin as he licks up my inner thighs.

I bite back a squeal as he moves my underwear out of the way, fingers toying with my skin.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ve got you.”

“Liam-“ I’m cut off by the feel of his mouth kissing my heat. His tongue diving deep inside me, causing me to throw a hand over my mouth, stifling a moan. My knees begin to buckle but he holds me in his firm grip, keeping me standing as he continues to twist his tongue deep inside, feasting on me.

I’m delirious with want as he continues to eat me out, thumb caressing my clit lazily. Pleasure spreads up my body, curling around my spine. My hips rock against him, pressure building and building before-

“Liam,” I gasp against my hand as my climax hits me, hard and fast. His fingers and tongue prolong my pulsing as I come all over his mouth. It feels like an eternity before my body gives out, sliding against the stone.

“Gods, I love the way you say my name,” he groans against me. “Especially when I fuck you.”

Liam stands, shifting his hands as I hear the sound of a buckle. Before I can calm my racing heart, he grips my thighs and holds up my legs to wrap firmly around his waist. I obey and immediately suck in a breath. The head of his cock is poised at my soaked entrance.

He suddenly leans forward, surprising me with a kiss on the tip of my nose. My heart swells before he finds my lips, kissing me. It’s consuming, claiming. Leaving me breathless and wanting.

“I love you so much, baby,” he says before pushing into me, stretching me. We moan together, breaths intermixing, as he bottoms out.

Using the wall as leverage, Liam adjusts me so my hips are at the perfect angle, his hands holding my ass firmly before he begins to thrust. My nails dig into his shirt as he hits me just right. This angle allows him to sink deeper and deeper, causing gasps to fall from my lips like whispered secrets.

He stops the sound with his mouth on my own, swallowing my moans. I taste myself on his lips and tongue. It’s incredibly erotic and fills me with immense pleasure as he thrusts harder and harder. I bounce against the stone, clinging to him for dear life as he begins chasing his own pleasure. I’m already climbing with him, breaths sawing through my lungs as I feel myself chasing another orgasm.

“That’s it, baby,” he coos. “You’re incredible.” He hisses as his cock hits me just right. My inner walls fluttering around him as he pumps faster. “Fuck, that feels-“

He groans just as his hips piston into me, wild and untamed as he releases inside of me. I’m right there with him. Like a flower bursting open in the sun, warmth burns through my body at the sensation. I don’t even care if anyone hears us anymore, I’m moaning his name loud enough to echo off the walls as I gyrate against him.

When we both finally come down, we’re twitching and panting, giving one another tired, lazy smiles. Liam towers above me, breathing heavily as he kisses my forehead, my temple, the corner of my mouth.

“Gods, you’re insatiable.”

I laugh before wiggling in his arms, causing his still-hard cock to sink further into me. He moans at the sensation.

“Another round?”

He laughs with me. “You don’t have to ask me twice,” his hands are firm on my wrists as he holds them above my head, trapping them against the cool stone. “As you wish.”

The stars are bright above the flight field as Liam and I lay back in the grass. It prickles the skin of my hands as a breeze flutters over us. The distant sounds of crickets and a nearby river fill the quiet. Both of our dragons lie close by, their sulfuric breathing filling the silence. We’re far away enough from them to feel as though we’re entirely alone.

Liam’s arm is close to mine as we lay, looking up at the constellations.

“What did Ridoc say to you earlier when we were leaving the gym?” I ask quietly. “You seemed annoyed.”

Liam’s breath hitches, his chest stilling. I feel his arm tense as he tries to slowly breathe out, almost like he’s calming himself.

“He, uh, just wanted to know about something.”

That piques my interest. I raise a brow. “About?”

Liam is quiet for a moment. “He wanted to know if you were single.”

“Oh.”

The silence is suddenly suffocating. The presence of our dragons makes this feel incredibly awkward, as if we have an audience. I can feel the weight of my dragon peering at us, like the gossip she is. I ignore her.

I don’t turn to look at Liam as I bite my lower lip. It’s been months of this constant flirtation. Months of tension that’s been building and building but I can’t tell if he’s just incredibly friendly with everyone or actually wanting a relationship with me. It’s driving me crazy.

Liam’s the type of guy who anyone can love and I hate how I’m one of them. How I’ve completely fallen for someone who probably only views me as nothing more than a friend.

A shaky exhale escapes me as I try and compose myself. “What did you say?”

Liam scoffs. “I told him to go ahead and ask you out.”

I startle, eyes wide and heart beating out of my chest as I turn to look over at him only to find he’s already staring at me. There’s a gleam of satisfaction in his eye as he watches my reaction.

Anger rises, sudden and quick. “Did you just say that to see what I’d do?!”

Liam shrugs before winking. “Just making sure you’re not interested in him.”

The anger dies as quick as it arrived. But my heart continues to pound, nerves sparking in my gut. “Why?”

Liam is suddenly leaning close, breath fanning over my face. He smells of mint, earth, and something so familiar, I ache to be closer to him. “I told him to go fuck himself. That you’re mine and he’d end up with a broken nose on that pretty-boy face of his as soon as he even spoke to you.”

My breath catches in my throat, a squeak escaping my lips. Liam’s mouth twitches at the sound.

“Who said I’m yours?” I whisper, unsure and entirely too hopeful for my own good.

Liam’s smile is beaming and brilliant. “You were mine the second you punched Jack in the throat after parapet.”

A laugh bursts out of me, startling the quiet of the night. Liam joins in, but his gaze is heavy and insistent on me.

“He deserved it,” I huff.

“He did,” Liam’s smile is contagious as his fingers move a piece of hair behind my ear, lingering next to my cheek. “But I also knew when you told me I’m just another big asshole at Basgiath,” he winks.

I roll my eyes playfully. “You came on too strong from the second you met me.”

He shrugs. “Didn’t want anyone to steal you away from me before I got the chance to sweep you off your feet.”

I raise a brow. “And did you?”

He lays his hand against my cheek, no more hesitating. “Depends on if you’re truly mine or not.”

I lean into him, eyes closing. “I’ve been yours for a long time, Liam.”

The nighttime breeze wraps us tighter together as he leans in and kisses me. It’s the first time I’ve ever felt his lips on mine and it sends a spark of fire down my body, lighting every nerve like a firework. I’m electrified, lighting up the night sky as he kisses me like something fragile and precious. Something worth having.

“I love you,” I whisper against his lips.

He startles, pushing himself away before he’s suddenly hovering above me. A smile that rivals the brightness of the stars shines on me as he leans down, our noses touching.

“You love me?”

I nod, my nerves fluttering as he reaches out to caress my cheek. I’ve never seen him so soft, so gentle. No one would believe how trusting, caring, and loving he can be. But only I see it. Only with me does he let down his walls.

He’s kissing me again, but this time, he’s no longer holding back. He’s not gentle as he bites my bottom lip, sucking it between his teeth. I moan as his tongue surges into my mouth, claiming me. I’m lost to the feel of him as his hands tangle in my hair, pulling my head back to gain access to my throat.

Against my skin, he whispers. “Gods, I’ve been wanting to hear you say that for so long.” He licks a strip of my skin, biting my pulse, before sucking my clavicle. “Fuck, I love you so damn much, I’ve been going insane with wanting you.”

My breath hitches as his fingers trail beneath my leathers, finding the skin of my hip. He presses me into the grass as he finds his way back to my lips. Kissing me once more.

Time seems to hold its breath as we kiss under the stars, uncaring of what the next day may bring. All we have is this moment, clinging to one another and sighing with relief. I’ve never felt so happy in my entire life as Liam looks down on me with such adoration.

When he suddenly sits back on his knees, I pout up at him. He shakes his head, laughing as he holds his hand out.

“Come with me.”

He pulls me up with him off the grass and starts racing towards the school.

“Where are we going?” I huff, trying to keep up.

Liam’s grip is unwavering as he turns back to look at me. “We only have a few hours till sunrise and I need all the time I can get to show you just how much I love you,” he winks.

Warmth rises up my neck to my cheeks, making him smile wider as he pulls me after him towards Basgiath.

“Is something going on between you and Liam?” Violet asks.

I startle, choking on my drink. Rhiannon snickers as she pats my back, helping me. Once I can breathe, my eyes betray me. I automatically find Liam across the dining hall, talking with Xaden and Garrick. His face is tight with tension and concern as his hands clench beside his plate. When his eyes meet mine, as if he can sense me, the tension is immediately gone. He softens. A smile playing on his mouth as he nods to me, saying good morning.

I nod back, warmth filling my gut before I avoid Violet’s inquisitive stare and go back to eating. “Nothing’s going on.”

Rhiannon snorts. “Sure. And nothing is going on with Violet and Xaden.”

Violet stiffens next to me. “There’s nothing-“

Rhiannon holds up a hand, stopping her. “Don’t fight it, Violet. It’s way too obvious.”

Violet glares at her best friend, causing me to laugh. I catch Liam glancing at us from the sound.

“It’s just as obvious with you two,” Rhiannon presses.

I prickle at their interrogation. “What do you want me to say? We’re just friends.”

Violet shakes her head. “Friends don’t look at each other the way he looks at you.”

I stare at her, brows pinched. “What do you mean?”

Violet glances at Xaden’s table and smiles. “Like that.”

I whip my gaze back to Liam to find him staring. He doesn’t look away when I meet his blue eyes. There’s an underlying intensity in his stare, something heavy and wanting. It leaves me breathless and trapped, wanting more than anything for us to be alone. To finally tell him how I feel. To see if maybe, just maybe, the lingering stares and touches and late-night talks are more than just friendship.

I break away first, staring down at the broccoli on my plate with sorrow climbing its way up my sternum. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Violet throws her hands in the air, clearly exasperated. “Gods, can’t you guys just shut up and make-out already!”

Her voice echoes around the table and I freeze. Closing my eyes, I hope he didn’t just hear her. I hope to every god that can hear me that he isn’t the one whose chair screeched against the floor. That it’s not his booted feet coming towards our table.

“Ladies,” Liam’s deep octave vibrates against my already rattled nerves.

“Oh fuck,” I mumble. I open my eyes to find Liam hovering above me, leaning his hands on the table.

“Morning, gorgeous,” he winks.

I fight the blush rising to my cheeks by curving my nails into my palms. The pain is sharp and helps clear my head.

“Morning,” my voice catches, sounding winded. “Did, uh, you need something?”

I catch Rhiannon smiling at the exchange in my peripheral.

Liam’s hand reaches back to wrap around his neck, showing off the rippling muscles in his bicep as he shrugs. “I was about to head to Battle Brief and wanted to see if you would join me. I mean, since you’re already heading there anyway.”

I nod, butterflies threatening to rise from my gut and fall out of my mouth as I clench my fists beneath the table. His stupid biceps are all I can focus on as his bright blue eyes burn into me.

FOCUS!

I smile. “Yeah, sure,” I turn to Violet and Rhiannon, who are smiling so big and taunting, I want to throw them off the bench. “Are you guys done? Want to head over with us?”

Violet shakes her head. “Oh no, don’t wait up for us. As a matter of fact, I think you’re looking a little chilly though,” she raises a concerned brow. “Do you need my coat or-“

Liam is draping his jacket over my shoulders before she can finish her sentence. I’m startled and staring as his cheeks redden from the attention.

“Ok, we’ll see you guys there,” he holds a hand out to me, waiting.

I turn back to Violet to see a satisfied gleam in her eyes. I glare.

Rhiannon chokes on a laugh as I take his hand, quickly making our way out of the dining hall.

We shove our way through the crowded halls, Liam close by my side as I hold on to his jacket. It’s warm and smells so much like him that I try and resist burrowing my nose into it. Would he think it’s weird if I keep it?

I shrug out of it, not trusting myself or this sudden burst of kleptomania to keep from me stealing it. “Here, I’m not super cold. It’s okay.”

Liam stops me, shoving it back onto my shoulders. “No, I want you to. Besides,” he winks. “You look good in it.”

I hide my blush as we make our way through the crowd once more.

It’s only when we’re at the door to Battle Brief that I realize I’m still holding his hand and he never let go.

Like knotted string, Imogen unravels my mind. Every knot a memory. She pulls and yanks until I’m fraying at the edges. Pain shoots through my veins, burning me from the inside out. A scream slowly builds in my throat as the pain increases to an all-consuming fire.

Just as the pain rises, it falls, like a cresting wave crashing against the shore. And a strange numbing sensation takes over.

A strange hollow throbbing begins to pulse inside of my head. As if something, or many things, are missing. I can’t place it and as soon as I try to recall what’s gone, it whisks away like a leaf in the breeze.

Imogen’s hands are steady on me as another memory, this one golden and bright, surfaces.

“I could show you a thing or two with those pretty long legs of yours wrapped around my-“

A crunching sound echoes in the courtyard as my fist collides with Jack Barlowe’s nose. His head whips back, harsh and startling. I keep my stance, watching and waiting as he whips back around, fury lighting his eyes.

“You fucking bitch!”

My hand shoots out again, this time slamming into his larynx, cutting off the sound in his throat. He chokes, staggering backwards. He falls to the ground, heaving.

The son of a bitch deserves it for pinching my ass and asking me to meet him in the dorms tonight like I’m some sort of whore. I roll my eyes and walk away from him, ignoring the stares that follow in my wake. I didn’t survive the fucking parapet to be groped and manipulated by some jackass.

“Excuse me?”

I whip around, ready to take on another asshole when I hesitate. My eyes widen at the sight of the man before me. He’s incredibly tall and broad. Muscles line his arms, rippling across his skin as if he’s a statue at a gallery. He towers over me with an impish grin on his face. His golden blonde hair a beacon in the sunlight. My heart races in my ears as I stare up at his incredible handsome face.

“You’re in the Fourth Wing, right?” His voice is deep, hypnotic. I could lose myself to the rhythm of it.

I nod, dumbly. “Flame Section.”

He smiles and I feel a strange sense of gravity slipping from beneath my feet at the sight. Gods, he’s beautiful.

But beautiful men often tend to be assholes. Like Jack.

“Me too,” he shrugs. “What’s your name, gorgeous?”

My hackles rise at the compliment. “Why?”

He puts his hands up, showing he’s not a threat. “Hey, I’m just curious. I wanted to know the woman who beat the shit out the biggest asshole at Basgiath.”

I roll my eyes. “All men are assholes here. He just happens to be one of them.”

He cocks his head, leaning forward with a twinkle in his eye. “Am I one of them?”

I step close, glaring up at him. “Most likely, given how you seem to entirely depend on your good looks and charm to get you through your time here. Just like any asshole.”

“You think I’m good looking?” His smirk is intoxicating. “And charming?”

I shake my head. “And apparently brainless.”

He leans closer. “I’ll be whatever you want me to be as long as you keep talking to me.”

My heart gets caught in my throat as I try and swallow. He watches the movement with sharp, knowing eyes. That smirk stretching wider.

“What if I don’t ever speak to you again?”

“You want me to beg, is that it?” His voice is as soft as velvet and it slithers over my skin. “Should I get on my knees for you?”

The image of him on his knees, looking up at me through his lashes, has me jolting away from him. He laughs, which rings through the air like a forgotten melody I only just remembered. It’s frightening how familiar he feels to me.

Annoyance prickles my skin as he continues to laugh at my expense. “You’re just another pompous ass who gets off at the idea of taunting me.”

He shakes his head, his smile never wavering. “Oh gods, you’re entirely wrong. Trust me.” He raises a hand, holding it out to me. “How about we start over, yeah? I’m Liam Mairi and I promise I’m not an asshole. Or,” he shrugs. “Not as big of an asshole as Jack is, at least.”

I can’t help my smile at the words. My annoyance simmers, but something inside of me knows he won’t be like Jack at all. I’ve always been good at reading people and Liam seems like he might actually be the opposite of what I thought he was.

I whisper my name back at him in greeting before reaching out and shanking his hand.

Something golden, like a thread, weaves between us as our skin touches for the first time. Intertwining around the space between our rib cages that has me gasping. It’s familiar, yet frightening. It’s something fragile, but I know it’ll somehow be something glorious. If I let myself curl into it. If I trust it. Trust him.

As I appraise Liam Mairi, I know, deep in the marrow of my bones, that I can trust him. That maybe, just maybe, he’ll become something more. He might be my everything. If I let him.

And that’s the most terrifying thing of all.

As if I’m rising out of water, after drowning for so long and seeking oxygen, I surface from the memories. They fade away with the tide, blinking from existence, as I feel my breath steady me.

Blinking my eyes open, I find Imogen moving back from me. With a quirk of my brow, I stare up at her eyes now brimming with unshed tears.

Why is she crying?

“Imogen?” My voice cracks, roughly, as if I’ve been screaming for hours.

Glancing around, we’re sitting on the stone ground of the courtyard. An arch protects us from the rain. The clouds are dark and ominous above, but I don’t remember coming out here. Weren’t we just having dinner in the dining hall?

Furrowing my brows, I purse my lips. How did we end up here?

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

I whirl to look at Imogen. “What for?”

That’s when I notice the skin of my cheeks are damp. Touching them, I quickly wipe them with my sleeve. Must’ve been from the rain.

“Can we go back inside? It’s cold.”

Imogen is still staring at me as she helps me from the ground. My muscles ache and pinch as if I were sitting for a long time. Strange.

I stretch my limbs and stare up at the dark clouds. “Hopefully we didn’t miss dinner.”

The last thing I remember was heading to the dining hall with Violet. How did I get here without her?

Imogen is silent as she watches me.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

She hesitates. “Nothing. Let’s go back-“

“There you are!”

We both turn to find Violet and Xaden heading towards us. Concern is painted across their faces as they approach.

“Are you alright?” Violet asks, stepping towards me.

I tilt my head. “Yeah, I’m fine, why?”

Imogen flinches in my peripheral, catching Xaden’s eye. He narrows his gaze on her as Violet continues to fret over me.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve been there for you. I don’t want you to feel like you’re alone in this. You never will be.”

I furrow my brows, staring at her. “What are you talking about, Vi? Weren’t we heading to dinner?”

She freezes. Suddenly the quiet is stifling as everyone shifts their focus to Imogen.

“What did you do?” Violet asks, her voice piercing.

Imogen stares at the ground, her eyes brimming with tears again. She doesn’t respond.

Xaden’s dark eyes are heavy on me as he steps closer. He whispers my name like I’m a startled animal and it sets my nerves on edge.

Why is everyone being so cryptic and dramatic?

Violet is the one who steps in front of him, taking my hands in hers. “Do you know who Liam Mairi is?”

At the sound of the name, something strange happens. An echo of something deep inside of me leaves me aching and wanting. I search for what it is that has me feeling this way, but I’m left empty. As if a part of me is missing. As if I’ve been cut up and left to figure out how to pull myself back together again. All I can feel are the ashes of something that used to be there and I can’t understand what it was.

“Who’s Liam?”

Weaver of Fate

[slytherin-pen]

Heavy Is The Crown

pairing: Xaden x Reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: Xaden is stressed, kissing, Xaden is angsty but this is fluffy

a/n: happy Xaden Week! written for day 1 ‘Leadership’. @empyreanevents

The halls of Riorson House are eerily quiet at this hour, the usual rush of cadets and fliers reduced to the occasional distant footsteps or muffled conversation. You barely notice, too focused on your destination—Xaden’s room. The day has been grueling. Filled with combat training, strategy meetings, and rune lessons. You are sore and exhausted, but all of that fades into the background when you think of him.

You knock lightly before pushing the door open. Xaden sits at his desk, head bent over scattered reports and maps, the mage light casting a light blue glow over the room. His brows are furrowed, his jaw tight with tension, and his hands are curled into fists on the wooden surface. He glares at the papers as if they have personally wronged him.

He doesn’t look up right away, but he knows it’s you. He always knows.

“You should be sleeping,” Xaden murmurs, his voice low, rough with exhaustion.

“So should you.” You step inside, closing the door behind you. The air in here is thick with the scent of leather, steel, and his cologne. You have to remind yourself of why you’re here before you drown in it. “Xaden,” you call.

That gets his attention. He drags a hand down his face before meeting your gaze, and what you see there makes your breath catch.

He’s tired. Not just physically, but in a way that seeps into his bones, into the very fabric of who he is. It’s the kind of exhaustion that comes from carrying too much for too long. From carrying the weight of an entire revolution on his shoulders, from making decisions that mean the difference between life and death for hundreds—if not thousands—of people. He never lets them see it. Not the Assembly, not the marked ones—no one. But he lets you.

Without a word, you walk to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He exhales, tension radiating from him as he leans into your touch. His muscles are taut, and there’s a seemingly permanent furrow between his brows that wrinkles the scar there. When you press a gentle kiss to his temple, his eyes flutter shut, like he’s trying to savor the moment.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you whisper. “Just let me be here. Let me help you.”

For a long time, he’s silent. Then, in a voice so quiet you almost don’t hear it, he says, “It’s too much.”

Your heart clenches.

“Every day, I have to act like I have the answers. Like I know exactly what I’m doing, like I don’t feel it—” he trails off as his voice cracks, shaking his head as if that could banish the onslaught of emotions. “Like I don’t feel the weight of every decision I make. Every order I give. Every life that could be lost because of it.”

You kneel beside him, taking his hand in yours. His fingers curl around yours instinctively, strong but desperate.

“You don’t have to carry it alone,” you whisper. “I know you think you do, but you don’t.”

He lets out a slow, measured breath. “I do, though.” His thumb brushes over your knuckles, and when he speaks again, his voice is raw. “If I let it slip, even for a second, people die.”

You don’t argue. He’s right. But that doesn’t mean you’ll let him bear it without reminding him that someone is here. That someone is here for him and only him. The whole world could burn to ash and you would not care, as long as you were still by his side.

You climb onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck, and he doesn’t hesitate before pulling you close. His breath is warm against your skin, his grip firm as if anchoring himself to you. For a while, you just hold him. You don’t tell him it’ll get easier, because it won’t. You don’t promise that the weight will lessen, because it won’t. But you will remind him, again and again, that he doesn’t have to bear it alone. And when he finally exhales against your shoulder, some of the tension draining from him, you know he knows that too.

Xaden doesn’t thank you with words. He doesn’t have to. The way his grip tightens around you, the way he buries his face in the crook of your neck and just breathes you in, says more than words ever could. For a long time, neither of you move. The world outside keeps turning, the weight on his shoulders doesn’t lessen, but here, in this moment, he allows himself to rest. To let go—if only for a moment.

You lean back to unbutton his flight jacket, his onyx eyes watching your every move. You pull the leather down his shoulders and fling it into his hamper. Your hands find the muscles between his neck and shoulders, and you knead them with your fingers. A groan falls from his lips as his head falls against the back of the chair. His hands tighten around your hips and you restrain the urge to roll them. This isn’t about you, it’s about him. About how much you love and care for him.

You work your way up and down his biceps, massaging away the knots and tension. Slowly, he starts to relax some more. Deflating like a balloon as it releases air. You move on to the back of his neck, gliding your fingernails to his scalp. The corners of his lips twitch upwards, likely imagining the other times your fingers have found their way into his hair. You smirk, but quickly refocus on your ministrations. His hair is soft like silk sliding through your fingers. You switch to the top of his head, moving the stray curls away from his face as you continue. A shiver runs through him with your touch, his shoulders jerking slightly. You smile to yourself and press a kiss to his cheek, then the other.

He quickly catches your lips with his, sliding his tongue across your bottom lip. The kiss is torturously slow, his tongue caressing yours with a gentleness that nearly makes you melt. Your hands move back down to the back of his neck, squeezing slightly. His mouth is warm against yours, always so warm and soft, like a cabin with a fire burning inviting you in from the chill outside.

Eventually, you pull away and his fingers trace slow, absentminded patterns against your back. “I don’t deserve this,” he whispers, so quietly you almost miss it.

You cup his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your eyes. “You do.” Your voice is firm but gentle. “You deserve to be cared for. You deserve to have someone who stands beside you, not just behind you.”

His throat bobs as he swallows, something unreadable flashing across his face before he presses his forehead to yours. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’ll never have to find out,” you promise, brushing your thumb along his cheek.

He exhales, and though the weight of leadership still rests on his shoulders, the burden doesn’t feel quite as heavy. Not in this moment. Not with you here.

And when you eventually coax him to bed, tangling your limbs together beneath the covers, you know that tomorrow, he’ll rise and carry it all again. He’ll lead, he’ll fight, he’ll make more impossible decisions. But tonight, he allows himself to rest. To lay in your arms and listen to soft sound of your breathing, to the steady rhythm of your heart beat.

[theseinfernalangels]

Rest Up — Bodhi Durran

Synopsis: After non-stop training and combat, Bodhi managed to convince you to crash for the night and lets you sleep in. Xaden is a little wary at first, but luckily, your lover makes for an excellent advocate. (Marked!Reader)

Includes: Fluff fluff fluff, eepy lovers, established relationship, Bodhi being his girl’s no. 1 defender, Xaden being a little prissy for just a sec, Platonic!Xaden. Takes place in between Iron Flame and Onyx Storm.

A/N: This was not something I planned to write lol; this actually came from a short conversation between me and @she-whatshername under one of her posts! Also we love to see Platonic!Xaden – people need to write him more as someone’s friend. Unedited because I’m tired lol.

.

An inhale followed by a low groan tells you that Bodhi is awake and ready for action at the crack of dawn. You should be, too – but aches lingering in your joints from the previous night prevent you from moving even an inch.

        It’s strange. Usually, you’re up and bound to seize the day even before the sun dominates the sky. Your attitude and responsibility is what earned you your role as Wingleader. But, cuddled up next to Bodhi, you can’t find it in you to actually care.

        Warm hands glide over your waist and settle over your stomach, and the next thing you know, you’re being pulled closer – if that’s even possible – into Bodhi’s hold. His lips dip and rest close to the top of your spine, right where the relic of your dragon, Spéir, comes to a head.

        “Hey, you,” he mumbles into your skin, sending a little chill through you. “You’re not up and at ‘em yet?”

        Your eyes aren’t even open yet, your words slightly slurred as you reply. 

        “No,” you reply. “I…Don’t think I can, right now. Everything still hurts after yesterday.”

        Yesterday. Bodhi lets out a soft ah of understanding. The previous day had proved nothing but troublesome for you, between the usual non-stop training you led combined with what could have been a fatal wyvern attack for you and your friends. Even after that, with blood dripping from your face and exhaustion singing in your bones, you still hadn’t relented and went straight back to training. Bodhi had been pissed.

Now, in retrospect, you realized he’d had a point; Spéir had gotten injured in yesterday’s battle, and by extension, you were suffering, too – but when had that ever slowed you down?

Here in your lover’s arms, though, you supposed you could be convinced to take a break.

He dips his head down and peppers a trail of kisses across the width of your shoulders. “Don’t even think about getting up right now. You need to rest.”

For once in your life, you don’t argue. “Wasn’t gonna. I feel like I just got bowled over by a loose cannon.”

You hear a quiet laugh leave his throat, and you let out a soft whine of protest when he starts to shift up and away from you.

“‘M sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs, leaning back down to press another kiss on your arm, right over your Rebellion Relic. The gentle brush of his lips against the mark sends a spark down your spine. “Xaden will understand if you don’t show up for formation. I don’t get that luxury.”

You snort half-heartedly. “Probably not. Jus’ tell him not to kick my ass yet; he can get the privilege once I don’t feel like shit.”

You grin weakly when you hear Bodhi bark out a laugh. You’re not looking at him, but you know exactly how he’s looking at you right now: Head tilted, eyes half-lidded, with a soft smile spread across his devastatingly-handsome face. He always looks at you like you’re the one that beckons the sun into the sky everyday, like you’re some kind of miracle that needs to be treasured at all costs. He’d probably look at you like that even if you were the sun, eyesight be damned.

“Alright,” he says, his voice clear and gentle. “Go back to sleep, love. I’ll come wake you up later, and we’ll see if a healer can do anything for you.”

You don’t even say anything back. You fell back into sleep faster than he could get his words out.

He chuckles quietly to himself. “Cute.”

༊*·˚ *ੈ

Xaden knows something is up when Bodhi shows up at formation without you.

It’s not in his cousin’s nature to ever be alone; usually, he’ll be with Xaden, a friend, or another squad member. If not them, then it’s you. When it’s not you…He doesn’t even know. Nothing bothered Bodhi Durran more than to be alone.

He simply raises an eyebrow at his cousin when he approaches. “Where the hell is Levine?”

Bodhi falls into place beside Xaden, not missing a beat. “Lovely to see you, too, on this fine morning,” he says dryly. “Nice weather we’re having.”

Xaden doesn’t smile. It’s not only unlike his cousin to be alone, but it’s certainly unlike you to not be one of the first ones there. “What happened?”

The younger boy falls silent for a second before he sighs. “I told her to go back to sleep. Everything that happened yesterday took a toll on her, and she’s not feeling too well.”

A small part of Xaden warms at his cousin’s words. Trust the boy to be able to convince you, one of the most stubborn Wingleaders, to stay in for a day for a break. It’s more impressive that he was able to get you into bed at all, but his eyebrows still furrow. “Are you…Coddling her? She’s woken up in worse situations, you know.”

He’s slightly surprised when Bodhi’s gaze snaps over to his, and they make even eye contact that borders on…something challenging.

“I’m aware,” the younger man says, his voice growing firm. “But you saw her out there yesterday. She fought harder than anyone out there, even when Spéir got hurt. And you know what? She still oversaw sparring and Battle Brief before I could even think about getting her to a healer.”

His voice lowers. “I’m not coddling her, Xaden. She doesn’t need me to do that. She’s a grown, respectable woman. I’m making sure the love of my life doesn’t burn herself out just because she likes to overwork herself. Don’t pretend you wouldn’t do the same for Violet.”

Xaden has a sharp retort for Bodhi on the tip of his tongue, but he falters at the mention of Violet. He can’t really argue with that, he realizes. He would – and has – done the exact same thing for the woman. Multiple times, actually. Xaden may be a petty man, but he’ll be damned if he ever chooses hypocrisy for the sake of making a point. 

Loosing a sigh, the older man relents with a nod. “...You got me there,” he admits. “But this will be a one-time thing, Durran. She’s in charge of too much for multiple days off.”

Bodhi’s protective front fades a little, and one of his usual charming smiles graces his face. “I know,” he says. “I could barely convince her to come to bed last night. You know she’d rather be stabbed than take a breather.”

Xaden mutters in agreement. It was honestly a little concerning how hard and often you worked – But, then again, he wouldn’t dare complain. He knew you had your reasons, and for every ounce of respect you’d shown him over the years, then he’d do the same for you in a heartbeat…Even if he wouldn’t admit that to anyone outside his circle

“Get in formation,” he orders quickly. “If you can, wake her up in a few hours. I’m sure Cadet Kiyoko is working today, if you can catch her before her break.”

He doesn’t miss Bodhi’s eyeroll, but he chooses to let it slide. “Aye, Your Highness.”

༊*·˚ *ੈ

The hallway is mostly silent by the time Xaden slinks up to the door to Bodhi’s room. It wouldn’t take a genius to know that you hadn’t bothered going back to your own room; in fact, he wouldn’t be surprised if his cousin had just picked you up and hauled you over his shoulder to his bed. It wasn’t out of character. Xaden had seen the former do it enough times to know where the two of you would end up every time.

He leans against the wall, his eyes sliding over the door. Bodhi was always a little too eager with wards, as if he only ever wanted the two of you to be in his room at any given time. Oh, well. It wasn’t like Xaden wasn’t the exact same way with him and his weapon of a girlfriend.

He can’t get into Bodhi’s room right now – not when you’re in there – but Xaden is lucky to have a way around that. Lips twitching, he points a finger and watches a tendril of shadow slither under the door and into the room. The sudden absence of sunlight from under the threshold tells him everything he needs to know: The room, probably blazing in glorious Aretian sunlight, is now dimmed, allowing you to sleep without too much of a disturbance.

The man silently commands the shadow to stay and then stalks away, making sure nobody sees him turning out of the corridor.

Bodhi was fantastic at taking care of you – but Xaden, for all the love and light you’ve given his cousin throughout the past few years, would always oblige to do the same. It was only fair.

[soulofapatrick]

Don’t Tempt Me - Xaden Riorson x female reader

Summary: Xaden finds you burnt out on the training field 

Warnings: none 

Words: 6k (somehow)

Notes: Not my fave and not proofread

Y/N's POV

The sun hangs low over Basgiath, bleeding gold and deep crimson across the sky, its light casting jagged shadows over the towering battlements. The war college looms around me, its stone walls unyielding, its presence as foreboding as ever. The air is thick with the lingering scent of sweat and scorched leather, remnants of a day spent in brutal training.

The air is thick with the scent of fresh earth and damp stone as I sprint across the training yard, my feet pounding the ground with a rhythm that feels like a heartbeat—a constant reminder of my inadequacies. Sweat drips down my forehead, stinging my eyes, but I refuse to wipe it away. I don’t have time to care about that. I only have time to run.

Over and over, I push myself to the brink, my body screaming in protest, muscles tight with fatigue. My breaths are ragged, desperate for air that feels like it's slowly being stolen from me. But the pain doesn’t matter. It’s nothing compared to the quiet voice inside my head, the one that whispers my doubts and my fears, the one that tells me I’m not enough.

You can’t keep doing this.

It’s Virethalon’s voice. Low, firm, and impossibly calm, like he always is when he sees me teetering on the edge. His presence pulses in my mind, filling the quiet spaces with a calm I can’t find within myself.

Stop, he says again, the warning clear. You’ll burn out before you ever get the chance to fly.

But I ignore him. I have to. I can’t stop, not when the weight of everyone’s expectations hangs so heavily on my shoulders. I can’t afford to be weak. I can’t afford to be what everyone expects—a failure.

My legs scream, my body trembling with every step, but I push harder. Faster. A flip, a backflip, then a roll, twisting midair in an effort to improve my reaction time, my agility. I force my limbs to obey, despite how they beg for rest, despite how my mind is breaking under the strain.

I am not enough. I’m not strong enough to make it here.

Each fall, each misstep echoes the same message in my mind: You don’t belong.

The words are a sting in my chest, sharp and bitter, poisoning the air in front of me. The instructors don’t believe in me, not truly. They’re waiting for me to break, to fail in front of everyone. The other cadets—they’re watching too, eager to see how long I’ll last.

Stop.

Virethalon’s voice is more insistent now, rising with frustration. I know he’s watching, can feel his eyes on me, even though he’s nowhere near. You don’t need to prove anything.

I don’t stop. I can’t. If I stop now, the quiet, haunting voice of failure will take over. If I stop, I’ll feel it—the shame of not being able to meet the impossible standard everyone else expects from me.

The ground shifts beneath me as I sprint forward, my foot catching on something, my body twisting unnaturally in the air. For a split second, time seems to stretch—slow, agonising. And then, I crash.

The world flips. My body slams into the earth, my hands and knees taking the brunt of it. The impact rattles my bones, sharp and unforgiving. My breath is knocked out of me, and for a moment, I just lay there, feeling the tremor of my body as it tries to recover from the shock.

I’m not moving. I can’t move.

Gentle hands find my shoulders before I can even process what’s happening. The pressure is firm yet careful, guiding me, coaxing me into a sitting position. My body trembles from exhaustion, every muscle protesting the movement, every joint aching with the weight of my own failure. I try to steady myself, but the effort makes the world spin, and I can’t seem to get my bearings.

The cold stone beneath me is a cruel reminder of how far I’ve pushed myself. My hands shake, fingers stiff from too much strain, and I finally drop my head, trying to hide the rush of heat that floods my face.

And then, I feel him.

His presence looms over me like a shadow, suffocating and unavoidable. My heart skips a beat, and I immediately wish I could melt into the ground, anything to escape the situation. But it’s too late.

I glance up—my breath catches as I come face to face with him. Xaden Riorson. He stands before me, looking like a damn god, his tall, muscular frame casting a shadow over me. The way his wide shoulders fill out his leather jacket should be illegal. He’s built like someone who’s spent years training and fighting, his chest massive, arms heavily muscled. His dark hair is windblown and tousled, the kind of messy that only makes him look more dangerous. His tawny-brown skin is kissed by the sun, and the dark stubble along his jawline only adds to the rough, untamed look. His eyes—gold-flecked onyx—are locked on mine with an intensity that makes me feel like I’m about to be set ablaze, and I would rather do anything else than face him like this.

I rub my face with both hands, hoping to hide the blush that’s rising to my cheeks. Of all the ways for this to end—of course, it’s Xaden Riorson who catches me. And of course, he looks like that.

“What the hell are you doing?” he growls, his voice a deep rumble of anger that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “You’re an idiot.”

I blink, half-frozen, half in disbelief. The audacity. “Oh, wow. Thank you, Wing Leader,” I drawl, sarcasm practically dripping from my tongue. “You really know how to make a girl feel special.”

Xaden’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t bite back—at least, not yet. Instead, his eyes flicker over me, and I know he’s assessing the damage. My exhaustion. The way I’m trembling, barely able to hold myself upright. It’s the worst feeling in the world. I’m embarrassed as hell that he’s seeing me like this—weak, on the edge of crumbling.

“I told you to stop before you reached this point,” he mutters, shaking his head. There’s an edge of frustration in his tone now, and I can’t decide if I want to hit something or laugh at how he sounds like he’s scolding a child.

“Yeah, well, you know me,” I say, wiping a bead of sweat off my brow, trying to make myself sound more in control than I feel. “Can’t resist proving everyone wrong.” I let out a bitter laugh, the kind that doesn’t reach my eyes. “But, hey, thanks for showing up and saving the day. Just what every soldier needs: an overbearing Wing Leader.”

A flash of something—maybe amusement, maybe exasperation—crosses his face, but it’s gone too quickly for me to read it properly. His dark brows furrow, and he steps closer, invading my space. “You’re burning yourself out. You can’t keep going like this.”

I force myself to sit up straighter, determined not to appear as weak as I feel, but I can’t hide the tremor in my limbs. The ache in my muscles is almost unbearable now, and Virethalon’s voice echoes through my mind—Stop, or you’ll destroy yourself. But I ignore it, as I have for hours.

I grit my teeth. “I don’t need your help, okay? I don’t need anyone’s help.”

I try to push myself to my feet, but my body betrays me, buckling underneath me like a broken chair. I stumble, gasping for breath, my hand reaching out for support but finding nothing.

Xaden’s eyes flash with anger again, but his movements are faster than I can process. He’s at my side in a heartbeat, and before I can even protest, he lifts me up, cradling me against him in one smooth, powerful motion. His arms are like iron around me, and my body, still trembling with exhaustion, goes stiff against him.

“What the hell are you doing?” I gasp, still trying to regain some semblance of control. I push against his chest—unsuccessfully—my arms too weak to do anything more than flop uselessly at my sides. “Put me down, you asshole!”

Xaden doesn’t respond immediately. He doesn’t have to. His grip tightens, holding me effortlessly against him as he carries me toward the barracks. “I told you to stop, but you never listen. So now you’re paying the price.” His tone is laced with annoyance, but there’s something else beneath it—something that makes my heart twist. Maybe it’s concern, maybe it’s guilt, but I can’t focus on that. I’m too busy trying to avoid the heat that floods my face.

“You’re such a prick,” I mutter, my voice half muffled by his chest. I’m so fucking embarrassed, and I hate that I feel this way. His warmth, his scent, is all-consuming, and my skin burns at the contact. But I refuse to admit it. “I don’t need you to carry me like some helpless baby.”

“Funny,” he says, his voice low, “because you sure look like one right now.”

I can practically hear the smirk in his voice, and I want to punch him. I should punch him. But I don’t have the energy, so I settle for biting my lip, muttering curses under my breath as he carries me.

The weight of his presence presses against me, and I can feel his muscles shifting beneath me, each movement of his body reminding me of just how powerful he is. And for all my protests, for all my sarcasm, I don’t want to admit that I’m secretly grateful. Grateful that he’s here. Grateful that he doesn’t let me fall apart.

Even if it means I have to endure his endless teasing.

Xaden’s warm eyes flicker down at me, and this time, there’s something softer there. Almost like...he understands. But I’m too stubborn to let myself believe it.

Xaden doesn’t say a word as he carries me through the barracks, the warmth of his body pressing against mine as I try to ignore the heat rising in my cheeks. I’m too tired to fight it. His presence is too overwhelming, and I can feel his heartbeat steady against me. Every step he takes is calculated, strong, as though it’s second nature for him to carry someone in his arms like this. It’s as if he’s done it a hundred times—though I have to wonder just how many times I’ve crossed his mind before today.

Xaden moves with a quiet grace, his large frame effortlessly navigating the corridors of the dorm building as though he’s done this a thousand times before. He steps softly, almost soundlessly, his footsteps absorbed by the shadows that seem to cling to him like a second skin. My heart races, but it's not from exertion anymore—it's the way he's so effortlessly commanding in everything he does. The weight of his arms around me, the heat radiating from his body, and the way my mind seems to short-circuit whenever I’m near him make it hard to think straight.

We pass the first-year rooms—mine included—and I can’t help but cringe at the thought of being caught sneaking past curfew. But Xaden moves with such precision, such mastery of his surroundings, that the idea of us being caught seems laughable. No one can hear us, no one even notices us. It’s like we’re ghosts, gliding past the rooms, unseen by anyone else.

I briefly wonder how he does it—how he’s so adept at slipping through the shadows, unnoticed, silent. But then, he’s always been a mystery to me. The kind of mystery I’ve never quite been able to figure out. And maybe, in a way, I don't want to.

Finally, we reach the staircase that leads to the upper floors, and with a swift glance in either direction, Xaden steps into the shadows, carrying me effortlessly up the stairs. We move past the landing and down the hallway to the last door—the one I know leads to his room. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t pause, and with a final quiet push of the door, we’re inside.

Xaden doesn’t put me down right away. His arms remain around me, his hold firm, as if he’s unwilling to let go. As if, for a brief moment, he’s afraid to lose the connection. The closeness between us feels suffocating, overwhelming, and yet I can’t bring myself to pull away. Every inch of my body is acutely aware of his presence, the heat of his skin seeping into mine, the muscle and strength in his arms keeping me held too close. I can feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat against me, mirroring the frantic pulse racing through my veins.

His dark eyes meet mine, and I swear, for a second, everything else falls away. His gaze is fierce, like a storm trapped behind his irises, flickering with a raw intensity that sends a wave of heat rushing through me. I’m suddenly aware of how painfully close we are—so close that if I moved even an inch, I’d be pressed against him completely. My breath catches, and I can’t look away, trapped in the gravity of his stare, like he’s pulling me toward him without even trying. And then, as if trying to fight whatever is building between us, his eyes flicker to my lips, and I feel it—the pull—stronger than anything I’ve ever felt.

But just as quickly as the moment seems to rise, he jerks his gaze away, his jaw tightening with the effort to control himself. It’s like he’s trying to push back the part of him that’s aware—aware of the magnetic pull between us, aware of how much he’s been fighting this… whatever this is. He shakes his head slightly, as though dismissing the thought entirely, like he’s trying to shut down the desire that flares in him. But I see it in his eyes—the flicker of something primal. Something I can’t ignore.

Finally, he sets me down, but he doesn’t let go immediately. He’s still so close that I can feel his breath on my skin, a whisper of warmth against the cold, the tension stretching taut between us, like a string pulled too tight. My pulse races as I settle onto the bed, the soft covers pressing against me, but my chest feels like it’s about to burst. I try to catch my breath, but it’s like the air in the room has thickened, heavy with unsaid words and the suffocating weight of everything unsaid.

Xaden doesn’t back away. He hovers, towering over me, his presence suffusing the space around us. I can feel the heat radiating off him, his body just a breath away, and every inch of me is screaming to close the distance. But I don’t move. I’m not sure I can. His nearness makes every part of me ache, makes every nerve light up, thrumming with the raw electricity that crackles between us.

His voice cuts through the thick silence, deep and steady, but there’s something almost... softer now, something gentler that makes my heart stutter. “Stay here,” he commands, his words pressing down on me like a physical weight, making my chest tighten. The force of his tone is undeniable, but there’s an undercurrent of something else—something that makes my stomach flutter. Something dangerous and thrilling all at once. "Be a good girl. Don’t go anywhere.”

I feel those words in my bones, in the very marrow of my being. The way he says it—it’s like a promise, a command that makes my heart race faster than it should. And yet, there’s a tenderness beneath it, a strange gentleness that pulls at me, twists my insides into knots. He wants to keep me here, close. He wants to possess this moment with me, even though I can feel the struggle in him—his body yearning to cross the line, but his mind pulling him back, trying to control what’s growing between us.

His gaze holds mine, unwavering, and I swear I see something break in his eyes—something raw and unspoken. It’s as if he’s holding himself back from doing something he knows would be too much, too dangerous. But the look in his eyes tells me everything I need to know: the battle is far from over, and this tension—this charge—it’s only just beginning.

I try to swallow, but my throat is dry. Every muscle in my body is taut, every nerve alive with an electric hum. Xaden disappears into the adjoining ensuite, his heavy footsteps echoing softly across the stone floor. I can hear the gentle hiss of the water filling the tub, the steady flow of it working in rhythm with the hammering of my heart. The tension between us lingers, the silence more suffocating now than ever before, and I can’t shake the feeling of his gaze still lingering on me even as he disappears from the room.

I should feel grateful for the space—should breathe, slow my pulse—but all I can think of is him. The way he’s so effortlessly commanding, yet there’s this softness beneath it that I can't quite place. The way he had looked at me, his expression a battle between restraint and something far more intense.

My fingers twitch, almost compulsively, and I reach for my boots, needing to do something. My body is still shaking from the exertion, from the near-collapse, and now my brain feels fuzzy, the exhaustion creeping in faster than I expected. I should just wait, I know I should, but I feel... out of control. I need to regain some semblance of normalcy, something to anchor me.

I struggle to bend down, but my balance is still far off from the punishment I just put my body through. My vision swims a little, and before I can register what’s happening, my body tips forward, sending me sprawling from the edge of the bed with a yelp. The floor greets me hard, and a shock of pain shoots up my spine, but it's nothing compared to the embarrassment that floods through me in waves. My pulse spikes, and I scramble, feeling utterly ridiculous.

A sharp, almost instinctive growl of frustration rises in the air—Xaden. He’s already moving quickly, a blur of motion as he rushes back into the room, his broad form filling the doorway in an instant. His dark eyes sweep over me, a flicker of concern passing through them, but it’s quickly replaced with something harder—almost irritated.

"You really are a disaster, aren't you?" His voice is deep, but there's a teasing bite to it, even as he crosses the room toward me in strides that eat up the distance. I can’t even find it in me to be offended. I’m too busy feeling like a complete fool.

Before I can open my mouth to respond, he’s crouching in front of me, his hands reaching for my arms to steady me. The sheer strength in his touch almost knocks the wind out of me as he helps me back onto my feet, the warmth of his hands traveling through my skin and straight to my chest. He doesn’t say anything else, but the way his eyes linger on me for a moment, as though making sure I’m okay, sends something fluttering nervously in my stomach.

“Try not to break anything else, would you?” His voice is softer now, as though the weight of the moment has finally broken through that icy exterior of his. His lips curve into a smirk, but there’s no denying the genuine care beneath the sarcasm.

Xaden moves with quiet precision, his hands wrapping around my waist, gentle but firm, as he guides me toward the bed. The heat from his touch lingers on my skin, and despite everything, I can't help but shiver. His grip is unyielding, his presence surrounding me, and as I sit on the edge of the bed, he stands in front of me, towering over me. The dim light from the room casts shadows across his features, making him look even more intimidating than usual, but there’s something in his eyes that betrays the mask he’s trying so hard to maintain.

His hands rest on my knees for a moment, and his gaze flickers to mine. There’s a question there, unspoken, something almost vulnerable beneath that stoic expression. I can see the battle waging in his eyes. He doesn’t want to touch me—at least, that’s what his expression says. But his eyes… those eyes of molten gold flecked with onyx… they betray him, flashing with an intensity I can’t quite read.

And then, in a moment that feels both like an eternity and a breath, Xaden sinks to his knees in front of me. The movement is fluid, almost too graceful, and my heart skips a beat. It feels wrong to be this close, too intimate. His presence is overwhelming, and I can feel the tension in the room thickening with every inch of space he closes between us.

Xaden kneels before me, his hands gentle but firm as he removes my boots. His touch is careful, almost reverent, but the tension is unmistakable. Each movement is deliberate, like he's holding himself back from something. The weight of his gaze on me is intense—smouldering, even—and I can feel every inch of him watching, noticing, memorising.

As he pulls off the second boot, his fingers brush against my calf, sending a jolt through me. My breath catches, and I instinctively tense, but it's more from the electric charge between us than the discomfort of my body. I don’t know why it affects me like this—this man who’s never once been shy about hiding the way he feels or thinking that his touch doesn’t matter—but in this moment, it matters. It matters more than it should.

He looks up then, his gaze locking onto mine. The heat in his eyes is unmistakable, a dark storm brewing just beneath the surface. His brow furrows slightly, and for a split second, I wonder if he’s questioning something—me, himself, what we’re both doing here, like this. But then his eyes flick lower, and I can see the hesitation there, a silent question that hangs in the air between us.

His fingers hover at the waistband of my tracksuit bottoms, brushing lightly against my hips. The touch is almost too soft, as if he’s trying to gauge my reaction before crossing a line that’s already dangerously blurred. He doesn’t say a word—he doesn’t have to. The question is in his eyes, in the way his lips part ever so slightly, in the subtle tension in his jaw. It’s an unspoken request, one that I know all too well.

I can feel the pulse of uncertainty in my veins, but something about this—about him—makes me lower my defences, just a little. Without even thinking, I raise my hips slightly, just enough to give him the signal. My movement is small, almost imperceptible, but it's enough. His breath hitches, and I can see the way his eyes flicker, a momentary loss of control before he tightens his grip on his composure.

Xaden exhales sharply, like he’s been holding his breath all this time, and I can see it in his expression—the struggle between what he wants and what he’s trying so hard to resist. His fingers slide beneath the waistband of my tracksuit bottoms, and I feel the slightest tremor in his touch. He’s slow, deliberate, like he’s savouring the moment, but also like he’s afraid that if he moves too quickly, the entire thing might shatter.

The air between us crackles with an electric tension, and as he helps me out of the fabric, I’m left feeling exposed in a way that’s more than physical. My heartbeat is louder than anything else, pounding in my ears, and for a moment, I forget about the aches in my body, the bruises, the exhaustion. It’s as though the world has narrowed to just us. Just this. And I can’t seem to pull away from him, from the way he makes me feel, from the way his hands linger a little too long at the edge of my clothing, as if to remind me that he sees me—every part of me.

I know it’s not supposed to feel this way, not like this. But every glance, every touch, every quiet, unspoken word between us is enough to unravel the careful walls I’ve built. And yet, even as he pulls the tracksuit bottoms off, his hands gentle but insistent, there’s something else in his eyes—something that tells me he’s fighting every urge to touch me, to kiss me. But he doesn’t. He never does.

I can’t decide whether that makes it harder or easier.

And when he finishes, leaving me in nothing but my sports bra and panties, I feel more vulnerable than I’ve ever been—completely at his mercy, exposed in more ways than one. The air is thick with unspoken words, and even as I sit there, trying to catch my breath, I know this isn’t over.

Xaden lets out a frustrated sound, a low, throaty growl that resonates deep in his chest. His breath stutters as his forehead falls gently to my thigh, the weight of it anchoring me in place. The intensity of the moment is suffocating, like the world around us has slowed to a stop, leaving only the two of us, tangled in something we can’t deny. His hands are gripping the edge of the bed, his knuckles white, and I can feel the tension in his body, a tight coil of restraint and hunger.

And then, in one swift, desperate motion, he surges upward, his lips crashing against mine. There’s no warning, no hesitation. Just pure, raw need. His mouth takes mine with a fierce intensity that leaves me breathless, as though he’s been holding back for far too long and now there’s no more control. It’s like he’s been starved for this—starved for me—and he doesn’t want to let me go, not even for a second.

I kiss him back with everything I have, my hands finding the sides of his face, pulling him closer, as if I can’t get enough. Every part of me feels alive with the heat between us, my skin tingling where his fingers brush against it, my heart thudding erratically in my chest. He tastes like fire—burning hot, consuming—and I can’t help but fall into him, into the kiss, into the feeling of him. I can feel the weight of his body pressing against mine, the strength of him, but it’s not overbearing. It’s grounding, like he’s pulling me into his orbit.

His hands move quickly, urgently, as if he’s afraid the moment will slip away from him. Before I can fully comprehend what’s happening, he’s lifting me effortlessly from the bed, and suddenly I’m straddling his thighs. His hands settle on my hips, holding me in place, the heat of his body radiating into mine. I can feel the way his pulse races beneath his skin, the way his chest rises and falls against mine. The kiss deepens, growing even more frantic, and I don’t know whether it’s the intensity of it or the way he’s holding me that makes everything else feel so insignificant.

He pulls me closer, his hands guiding me with a possessive, yet gentle touch, and I can feel the thrum of energy between us, something electric, something undeniable. My fingers tangle in his hair, tugging him closer, and the sound of his breathing, his heavy exhales, fills the space between us. I can hear the way he’s fighting for control, the way his muscles tighten with the effort of keeping his composure.

But I don’t want him to. I don’t want him to hold back.

I don’t want him to fight it anymore.

I can feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric of my sports bra, his chest pressing against mine with each movement, and I’m acutely aware of how close we are, how easy it would be to lose ourselves completely in this. And yet, even as we continue kissing, tangled in each other’s embrace, there’s a part of me that’s still unsure, still trying to catch up with everything happening around me. But when his hands slide down to my thighs, gripping them with such possessiveness, that uncertainty melts away, replaced by a heady rush of desire.

The kiss breaks, but just for a moment, both of us gasping for air. His lips hover above mine, and I can see the raw intensity in his eyes, a mixture of frustration and something else—something far more tender, even if it’s buried beneath the layers of urgency.

"Don't stop," he mutters, his voice rough and low. His hands tighten around me, pulling me against him, as if he’s trying to make sure I’m real. “Please don’t stop.”

And all I can do is nod, my chest still rising and falling with the rapid pace of my heart. I don't want to stop either.

The air between us feels thick with heat, charged with a tension that I don't want to break, even as the reality of what we’re doing begins to settle in. Xaden’s hands are still firm on my hips, his grip tightening with every shift of my body, and I can feel every muscle in his form, every bit of control he's holding onto, fighting to stay composed. He pulls me closer again, the fabric of my sports bra barely separating us, his chest brushing against mine as he presses his forehead to mine, both of us gasping for breath.

The heat from his skin, the closeness of his body, is too much to ignore. It's overwhelming in the best way. I can hear my own pulse hammering in my ears, feel the electricity between us that neither of us can escape. He looks at me, his gold-flecked eyes searching mine, his breath ragged as if he's barely holding on to the edge of whatever control he has left.

I can't stop myself from raising my hand to touch his face, my fingers trailing down the line of his jaw, tracing the hard curve of his chin, feeling the roughness of his stubble. The tenderness in my touch makes him shiver, his breath catching in his throat, and for a brief second, everything else fades. There’s no training, no curfew, no expectations—just the two of us, caught in something far more complex than either of us ever intended.

His lips brush against mine once more, a soft, tentative kiss, but it feels more intimate than the previous fiery moments. It's full of the unspoken things, the feelings we've been hiding, buried beneath layers of duty and unacknowledged desire. Xaden pulls back slowly, just enough to look at me, his eyes heavy with something unreadable.

"I—" he starts, his voice thick with emotion, but I stop him, my fingers pressing gently to his lips.

“I know," I whisper. "I know, Xaden. We don’t need to say it.”

The words hang in the air between us, unspoken yet understood. He looks at me, really looks at me, and for once, there’s no pretension, no walls between us. Just a moment of raw honesty.

But then, he pulls back just a fraction, his hands slowly loosening their grip on me, as if reluctant to let go but knowing he has to. His eyes soften, a flicker of something tender passing over his features before he runs a hand through his windblown hair, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

“You should rest,” he murmurs, though there’s a trace of something unreadable in his voice. “You’ve pushed yourself too hard tonight.”

I nod, feeling the weight of his words as the adrenaline from our moment starts to ebb away, leaving me with a sense of vulnerability, of exhaustion I hadn’t realised had been creeping up on me. My body is still sore from the training, but now, there’s an ache of a different kind, a deep, resonating need I’m not sure how to deal with.

“You’re right,” I murmur, my voice hoarse. “About that bath…”

Xaden’s hands gently guide me to my feet, his fingers lingering on my hips just a moment longer than necessary, as if making sure I’m steady before he lets go. His touch is firm but considerate, grounding me, reminding me that he’s here, present, in this moment. I almost wish he didn’t have to pull away so soon, but the space between us feels impossible to close for reasons I can’t quite name.

With a soft grunt, Xaden rises to his full height, towering over me for a moment before he reaches down and picks me up again, effortlessly moving me toward the bed. His strong arms encircle my waist, and I feel the heat radiating from his chest, the power in his body that he keeps so carefully controlled. He sets me down gently on the edge of the mattress, the softness of the sheets a stark contrast to the tension that still crackles in the air between us.

I sit there for a moment, watching him, as he turns toward the bathroom, his broad back stretching as he moves, his muscular frame rippling with every step. His windblown black hair falls just above his collar, and I can't help but stare at the way he walks—confident, purposeful, but there’s an undercurrent of something, a quiet storm inside him that’s barely contained.

The silence feels heavy, too heavy, until I finally speak up, the words tumbling out before I can stop them.

“... Maybe you could join me?”

The moment they leave my mouth, time seems to slow. Xaden freezes in his tracks, his hand hovering over the doorframe, his back to me. For a breathless second, I wonder if he didn’t hear me, if the words just got lost in the space between us. But then, the tension in his body is palpable. His shoulders tighten, his jaw clenches, and I watch as a low, almost imperceptible sound slips from his throat—a frustrated, breathy exhale that he seems to be holding back with all his strength.

He doesn’t turn around right away, but when he does, his eyes meet mine, and there's a flicker of something dangerous there. It’s not anger. It’s hunger—raw, palpable, and so intense that it sends a shiver down my spine. I can't look away, can't tear my gaze from his. The silence between us stretches, thickening, until I can almost feel the heat coming off of him.

"You really want that?" His voice is low, a little strained, like he's trying to rein himself in. There's a slight tremor in his hands, and his posture is tense, like a coil ready to snap. He’s trying to keep himself in check, and I know he’s holding back everything he wants to say, everything he wants to do. But there's something in his eyes, a flicker of vulnerability, of yearning, that betrays the composure he’s trying so hard to maintain.

I nod slowly, heart pounding in my chest as I search his face, looking for any sign of hesitation, any clue that I’ve crossed a line. But there’s none. Instead, he takes a step toward me, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he’s waiting for me to stop him, to give him some sort of excuse to turn back. But I don’t.

I don’t know what happens next, only that the space between us feels like it’s been stretched so thin that it could snap at any moment. Xaden is so close now, his presence overwhelming, and I can’t breathe, not properly. All I can do is stare at him, feel the pull, the need between us, and wonder if he can feel it too.

“Don’t tempt me,” he mutters under his breath, before stepping into the bathroom, leaving me to wonder if he’ll give in, if he’ll actually let this tension between us break.

Part Two ⇒ Giving Into Temptation

Fourth Wing Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 12th Oct 2024

@xadenswhore @fanficscuziranout @daisydark @Mariahoedt @marrass @

[partoffantasy]

Between Heartbeats - Liam Mairi

⸻ image credits to mybookishdoodles ⸻

summary: reader has always had Liam by her side, but it takes almost losing him for her to realize what he truly means to her. As she fights to keep him alive, she’s forced to face her own feelings—before time runs out for both of them.

pairing: liam mairi x fem!reader warnings: angst, blood word count: 4.6k

⸻⸻⸻✦ ♡ ✦⸻⸻⸻

After six relentless hours of flying, our bodies aching from the strain, Xaden finally orders us to take a break. Sgaeyl leads us downward, her massive wings cutting through the air with effortless precision. We descend into a clearing where a small lake shimmers between thick clusters of emerald trees, the water a cool, inviting shade of blue. The moment we land, the dragons waste no time lowering their heads to drink, their massive forms shifting as they settle in for a well-earned rest.

Caelan touches down beside Deigh, his scales glinting in the fading sunlight. As I slide down his leg, my fingers briefly press against his warm hide in silent gratitude.

“Stay close. It’s not safe.” His deep voice rumbles through my mind like distant thunder.

I nod. “Will do. Take a break.” My lips curve into a small smile, knowing full well he’ll remain alert despite my words.

The others scatter across the area, stretching their sore limbs, relishing the momentary respite. Xaden and Violet move slightly away from the group, seeking a rare sliver of privacy. I shake my head, an amused smile tugging at my lips before I reach for my waterskin.

“You good?”

I turn to see Garrick walking toward me, his usual easy confidence evident in his stride. He settles beside me as I take in our surroundings—lush greenery, vibrant wildflowers swaying gently in the breeze, the lake so impossibly clear it looks like melted ice. It’s beautiful. Almost peaceful.

“I am,” I answer honestly. “And you?”

He exhales a chuckle, stretching his legs out as we sit beneath the shade of a massive tree. “Looking forward to getting back. My ass is numb from all that flying.”

A smirk tugs at my lips. “Tell me about it.”

We fall into easy conversation, his presence grounding me. But even as we talk, my eyes betray me, seeking out someone else.

Liam.

The sound of laughter draws my gaze to the water, where Liam, Rhi, and Ridoc are splashing around like carefree children. He peels his shirt off, the golden glow of the sun catching on his damp skin as he kicks off his boots and dives in. I barely notice Garrick falling silent beside me as my entire world narrows down to him.

Liam.

His name echoes in my mind, my breath catching as I watch him resurface, water streaking down his face, his soaked blond hair falling across his forehead. The sharp angles of his cheekbones and jawline, once softened by youth, now speak of a man fully grown. I swallow hard, heat rising to my cheeks as my eyes trace the defined lines of his chest, the sculpted ridges of his stomach.

But it’s not just his body that has my heart stuttering in my chest. It’s his smile—the same one he’s given me for years, the one that feels like warmth on a cold day, like safety when the world is crumbling.

Home.

Liam is home.

And for the first time, I realize I’ve been blind.

He was always there. When I stumbled, when I fell, when I broke—he was there, steady and unwavering. So why didn’t my heart race before? Why didn’t I see what was right in front of me?

Now, the fear grips me. Did I wait too long? Did my indifference push him away? Has he realized he deserves better than someone who only now understands what he means to her?

A lump forms in my throat. I force my gaze away, trying to collect myself, but it’s too late—Xaden is already beside me, his knowing eyes following my line of sight before resting on my face.

I don’t even hesitate when I lean my head against his shoulder, exhaling shakily. “I love him, Xaden.”

The words barely make it past my lips, so quiet, so fragile, like glass on the verge of shattering.

Xaden hums, a soft chuckle rumbling through him as he drapes an arm around me. “I know.”

I close my eyes, his reassurance both comforting and terrifying. “I’m scared.”

“Why?”

I sigh, my fingers tightening around my waterskin. “I’m scared I waited too long. That my hesitation made him realize he can have better.”

Xaden shakes his head, his grip on my shoulder firm, anchoring me. “I don’t believe that for a second. But you need to tell him, Y/N. And yeah, he’s going to be shocked—because believe me, he doesn’t expect this—but he will be with you. He’s always wanted to be with you. He has loved you for so long.”

Tears prick at my eyes. “I hope you’re right,” I murmur. “I’ll tell him when we get back.”

I have to. Because losing him would be worse than rejection. Losing him would be losing everything.

I glance back toward the lake. Liam is watching us now, his expression unreadable. Our eyes lock, and for a heartbeat, time ceases to exist. It wasn’t my signet—it was him. He’s the first to break the moment, looking away, and my heart clenches in my chest.

I will fix this.

I have to.

Shaking myself from my thoughts, I turn to Xaden. “How’s Violet?”

“She’s pissed, as always.” He smirks, rubbing a hand over his face. “But she understands. Or she will.”

“She always comes back to you,” I remind him. “You’re bonded for life. She’ll understand why.”

He nods, exhaling slowly. “Thanks for always having my back, Y/N.”

I meet his gaze, sincerity shining in his dark eyes. “Always.”

We hug, and unexpectedly, I laugh. The sound morphs into a quiet sob, my emotions tumbling over themselves.

Xaden smiles knowingly. “You don’t always have to be tough.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “You think I belong here?”

His expression softens. “Y/N, you deserve to be a rider. You always did.”

The words settle deep, warming something inside me. “I’m glad you’re back,” I admit, thinking of the years that stretched between us.

“You had Liam,” Xaden reminds me.

“It’s not the same,” I whisper. “You’re my brother.”

We look back toward the water, where Liam still lingers, his gaze heavy. I meet it, offering a soft smile. Slowly, his lips curve in response, but there’s something distant in his expression. A hesitation.

And for the first time, I truly understand what people mean when they say you don’t know what you have until it’s gone.

I just hope I haven’t lost him already.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

And then, all hell breaks loose.

"Caelan?" My voice is edged with worry as a sharp pang of unease races down my spine.

"Hurry! You need to get off the ground!" His voice is a thunderous roar in my mind, vibrating with urgency.

I spin, my eyes darting through the trees, heart hammering against my ribs. And then I see it.

A figure lurks in the shadows between the trunks. Pale—deathly so—its skin is almost translucent, veins red as blood spidering down its face. But its eyes—gods, its eyes—are pools of crimson hunger, glinting with something both intelligent and monstrous.

Shock anchors me to the ground.

"Y/N!" Xaden's voice is a raw command, slicing through my paralysis. "We have to go! Now!"

Before I can process it, he's shoving me toward Caelan, his grip bruising, fueled by sheer desperation. My legs finally obey, and I sprint, throwing myself onto Caelan's back just as he leaps into the sky. The moment we ascend, the others follow, wings beating frantically against the night. Below, the creature crouches low, pressing a skeletal hand to the earth. A sickly gray circle pulses outward from his palm, spreading across the ground like a living disease.

"What the hell is that?!" My stomach lurches at the sight.

"A venin. They drain the life from everything around them," Caelan answers, voice razor-sharp with loathing. "They feed from the ground itself."

Then a sound pierces the night—an ear-splitting, inhuman screech. My blood turns to ice.

Wyvern. Six of them, dark shadows slicing through the sky.

"Alloy daggers only!" Xaden bellows from my left, his voice steady despite the chaos. We all carry them—black-hilted blades forged with the only metal capable of cutting through the unnatural flesh of these creatures. I tighten my grip around mine, bracing for the inevitable.

Then Caelan snarls, his voice vibrating through my bones. "Deigh needs help."

My stomach plummets. I snap my gaze toward the left flank just in time to see two wyverns closing in on Deigh and Liam. My pulse stutters, fear gripping my throat like a vice. No. No, no, no.

"Let’s go! Hurry!" I cry, and Caelan veers sharply, wings slicing through the air as we dive. But we’re still too far. Too slow.

A wyvern lunges. Its jagged teeth sink deep into Deigh’s leg, a sickening crunch echoing through the night. Deigh screams, the sound raw and agonized. The second wyvern strikes from the other side, sending them both careening toward the earth.

"Liam!" His name rips from my throat, raw with terror. My power thrums beneath my skin, a violent force begging to be unleashed. Do something. Do something now.

I throw open the doors to my power—Caelan’s power—and reach. My fingers stretch out toward Liam, toward Deigh, toward the descending wyvern. Time bends to my will.

And stops.

The world stills. The night is silent. The wyvern are frozen mid-air, their wings locked in unnatural stiffness. Deigh, Liam—trapped in the moment before impact.

My chest burns. My head pounds. Caelan’s voice is distant, pleading. "We’re almost there."

I can’t hold it. Every second shreds through me like fire in my veins. But if I let go now, Liam will die.

"You need to release it, or you’ll die." Caelan’s voice is pained, but firm.

"No!" Tears blur my vision. "I can’t—I won’t let them—"

Agony rips through me, molten and unbearable. My breath turns ragged, each inhale molten lead in my throat. The edges of my vision darken, tunneling to nothing.

Not yet. Just a little longer—

We’re close. Almost there. Just—

I let go.

Time slams back into motion. The fall resumes. Deigh plummets, his agonized roar tearing through the night. The wyvern shriek as gravity claims them again. I have seconds.

Caelan collides with the first wyvern, tearing through it with ruthless precision. Blood arcs across the sky as he rips its head clean from its body. I don’t stop to watch. I jump.

The wind whips against me as I plummet toward the second wyvern. Its teeth are embedded in Deigh’s shoulder—and Liam’s abdomen.

I scream, fury and fear coiling into something visceral, something deadly. My daggers flash in the moonlight as I plunge them into the beast’s skull. It shrieks, releasing its grip on Deigh, its body convulsing as it falls lifeless.

But so does Liam.

I reach, fingers grasping, catching his tunic just as he starts to slip. "No! Liam!"

Deigh is barely conscious, wings faltering. We’re too low, too close to the mountains. His body collides with the rocky terrain, momentum sending Liam and me flying into a jagged cliffside. Pain explodes through me as we slam into stone, tumbling to the ground below.

Silence.

Pain.

I can barely breathe. My ribs scream in protest. Every part of me aches, but none of it matters.

Liam.

I force myself to move, crawling toward him with shaking hands. He’s deathly still, his tunic soaked in red. Three puncture wounds mar his abdomen, each leaking life with every passing second.

"No, no, no—Liam!" My hands press desperately against his wounds, but the blood keeps coming, spilling between my fingers. "Stay with me. Stay with me."

He groans, lids fluttering open. And then—he smiles.

A broken, dazed smile. "Y/N… you look like an angel."

I sob, my forehead pressing against his. "I love you, Liam. Please stay with me. Please."

He blinks sluggishly. "I… love…" His voice fades.

His body stills.

"Liam?" My breath catches. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t respond. "LIAM!"

I break. Raw, shattering sobs wrack my body as I press myself to him. But then—a flicker of something. A tingling beneath my fingers.

I glance down. The blood—

Frozen. Suspended in midair, locked in time. His wounds are no longer leaking, the flow halted by an unseen force.

My force.

I press my ear against his chest. A heartbeat. Weak, but still there.

"Xaden is coming!" Caelan’s voice is sharp, cutting through my haze.

I’m trembling, exhausted. I can’t hold on much longer. Xaden lands hard, his expression a mask of worry and barely contained fear.

"I think I stopped the blood," I say, voice thin with exhaustion. "But I can’t move. If I let go, he’ll die."

Xaden doesn’t hesitate. "Then we fly."

I nod weakly. "I won’t let go."

Even if it kills me.

Even if I don’t make it.

Because losing Liam would be worse than death itself.

“I don’t know how to do this. I can’t move. I can’t fly with Liam like this.” My voice is raw, trembling, as I fight the overwhelming weight pressing down on me. My energy is slipping away, seeping from my body like sand through my fingers. My vision blurs at the edges, and I clutch Liam tighter, as if sheer will alone can keep him tethered to this world.

“We need to be quick,” Xaden says, his voice urgent. “You’re losing energy. The longer you hold time, the faster you fade.”

Deigh lets out a labored breath from where he lays on the ground. He can’t fly, not with those wounds, but he’s alive—for now.

“Tairn agreed to carry Deigh back,” Violet says suddenly, appearing next to Xaden. Her usually steady voice wavers, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. Liam isn’t just another rider to her. He’s her friend, her shadow. Losing him isn’t an option.

“We can use parts of Violet’s saddle to strap you and Liam to Caelan—if he agrees,” Xaden says. His tone is firm, but I don’t miss the way his gaze flickers over me, assessing, calculating. “But it’s dangerous, Y/N. If you lose consciousness mid-flight, you and Liam will fall.”

I nod. “There’s no other way. I will not let go of him.”

Xaden’s jaw tightens, his eyes dark with something I can’t quite name. “Think about this,” Caelan pleads through our bond. “You might die. I can feel you slipping.”

Tears spill freely down my face, my body trembling from exhaustion and pain. “I will not let him die!” I scream, my voice cracking with desperation. My heart is thundering, my entire being thrumming with defiance, and Caelan—my soul, my partner—understands. He bows his massive head in silent agreement.

“Then we move,” Xaden says, his voice leaving no room for argument. “We’re going to Aretia. It’s a two-hour flight. Basgiath is too far. You wouldn’t make it.”

I swallow hard, my throat dry as I meet his gaze. “Are you sure?” I whisper. We both know what this means—Violet will see her brother. The brother she thought was dead for six years.

Xaden doesn’t hesitate. “I will not let you both die.”

The others move quickly. Bodhi, Ridoc, and Garrick lift Liam’s and my body, careful, reverent, while Xaden secures the saddle straps. My muscles scream in protest as they settle me against Liam’s unmoving form, fastening us tightly to Caelan’s back. The moment we’re secure, the dragons launch into the sky. The ground disappears beneath us, and I clutch Liam closer, bracing against the icy wind.

His face is pale—too pale. His light hair whips around, strands tangling over his closed eyes. He looks peaceful, but I know better. He is slipping.

Tears spill onto his chest as I press my forehead against him. “Please stay with me,” I whisper. My voice is nothing more than a fragile breath against the storm.

The minutes stretch into eternity. Time loses meaning. My breaths grow shallow, my limbs numb. Every fiber of my being is focused on one thing—holding on.

“I’m so tired, Caelan,” I murmur through the bond, my consciousness wavering.

“Don’t fall asleep, timeless one,” he urges.

He tells me stories. About the first time he saw me. The moment I touched his mind during Presentation. The way he knew, instantly, that I was his during Threshing. His voice keeps me tethered, even as darkness claws at my edges.

Then, a voice cuts through the haze. “Aretia ahead!”

I blink sluggishly, my vision barely registering the outlines of the hidden outpost. The world around me is distant, muffled, like I’m underwater. My lips are numb, my fingers frozen. I can’t stop shivering.

Caelan lands with a jarring impact, pain lancing through my body. Hands reach for us—urgent voices shouting commands, but I can’t understand them. My thoughts are sluggish, fragmented.

“Alert him! Get them inside, now!”

The hands pulling at me are too warm. The heat burns against my frozen skin, yet I can’t seem to stop trembling. My soul feels hollow, drained of everything I am.

Then, a touch—soft, almost reverent—on my shoulders. A voice, a whisper, slips through the veil of exhaustion.

“Let go, Y/N.”

“N-no…”

“You’re dying. You need to let go.”

“I can’t let him die,” I sob, my voice barely audible.

The voice soothes, a presence wrapping around me like a phantom embrace. “It’s okay. I’ve got him.”

A cold dread pools in my stomach. Is it death speaking? Is he here to take Liam?

Then a sharp voice cuts through my haze, grounding me. “Y/N! It’s Brennan! He can mend Liam—but only if you stop your powers!”

Brennan.

Hope flickers, weak but still burning. My lips part in something like a smile, my body surrendering at last. I let go. My arms fall limp at my sides, and the world fades to black.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

—Xaden’s POV—

Y/N’s body sags, her arms slipping away from Liam. And suddenly, fresh blood blooms, pouring from the wounds she had held frozen in time.

“Shit! Take her to the side—I need space!” Brennan shouts, his hands already moving over Liam’s abdomen. Power crackles through the air as he chants, his hands glowing with healing energy.

My gaze snaps to Y/N.

My heart stops.

She’s too still. Her skin is ghostly pale, her lips an unnatural shade of purple. Dark bruises stain beneath her closed eyes. Blood coats her in streaks and splatters.

“Y/N?” My voice is hoarse, barely a whisper. I stumble toward her. She doesn’t move.

She doesn’t breathe.

“Y/N!” I roar, shaking her lifeless body.

Frantic, I press two fingers against her throat.

Nothing.

“No, no, no, no, NO!” My hands fist in her tunic. I drop to my knees and start CPR, my movements desperate. “Brennan! What do I do?” My voice cracks, panic clawing at my chest.

“I can’t help them both.” Brennan’s voice is tight, full of impossible choices. “You have to decide. I finish healing Liam, or I start on her.”

My world splinters. A sob rips from my throat.

Y/N would never forgive me. She’d never forgive herself.

“Help him first,” I whisper, my voice breaking.

Minutes stretch into eternity before Brennan rushes to my side. “What happened?” he demands, his hands already pressing against Y/N’s unmoving form.

“She’s a time-stopper,” I manage, barely holding myself together. “She froze his blood flow—but it drained her too fast.”

Brennan exhales sharply, understanding washing over his features. Then, without another word, he begins to mend her.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

—Y/N's POV—

When I open my eyes, everything hurts. A dull, aching pain thrums through every part of my body, heavy and unrelenting. My limbs feel like they’re weighed down with lead, my head pounding as if I’ve been thrown through the sky and slammed into the earth.

The first thing I notice is warmth. Sunlight spills through the tall windows, illuminating the room in a soft, golden glow. Birds flit outside, their wings casting fleeting shadows across the floor. The air is still, carrying the faint scent of herbs and clean linen.

I inhale shakily, lifting a trembling hand to my face, fingertips brushing against my temple before tangling in my hair. A groan escapes my lips as I try to stretch, my muscles protesting the movement. My body feels foreign, like it doesn’t belong to me anymore, like I’m borrowing a shell that’s been through hell and barely pieced back together.

I take a slow, measured breath and force myself to sit up. The room around me blurs for a moment before steadying, revealing what looks like a medical ward. My feet touch the cool floor, sending a shiver up my spine. I’m dressed only in a loose shirt, the fabric brushing against my skin just above my knees. Every movement takes effort, but I push forward, step by step, drawn by something deeper than thought.

Then I see him.

Liam.

A curtain separates our beds, but I round it, and there he is—lying still, his chest rising and falling in slow, even breaths. His face is pale but peaceful, his blond hair tousled, his lips slightly parted as if caught in a dream. He looks so serene, as though he’s untouched by the nightmare that brought us here.

My breath catches in my throat, my vision blurring with tears. I reach out before I can stop myself, my fingers ghosting over his cheek. He’s warm—so warm—and the relief that floods my veins is almost unbearable. A sob rises in my chest, my fingers trembling as they brush his skin.

“I thought I’d lost you,” I whisper, my voice breaking.

I pull a chair close, not willing to put any distance between us. My hand finds his, our fingers intertwining as if they were always meant to fit together. I stroke the back of his hand absentmindedly, pushing away strands of hair that fall across his forehead. Just looking at him, being close to him, grounds me in a way I didn’t know I needed. My exhaustion takes hold, pulling me under, and before I know it, I drift into sleep.

A murmur of voices pulls me back into awareness.

“Looks uncomfortable,” Garrick whispers.

“Well, we couldn’t just put them in one bed, now could we?” Xaden replies dryly.

“I mean…” Bodhi shrugs.

A smack echoes through the air. “They haven’t talked about it yet,” Xaden sighs.

“It’s so obvious,” Garrick mutters.

“It’s between them,” Xaden finishes firmly.

A groggy voice cuts through their hushed conversation. “You’re being loud.”

Liam.

His blue eyes blink open slowly, his expression hazy with pain. His lips part as he exhales a ragged breath. “I feel like shit.”

Xaden lets out a breath of relief. “Man, we thought you died…”

“You nearly did,” Garrick adds solemnly.

Liam frowns slightly, confusion creasing his brow. “What happened?” His gaze flickers around the room before landing on me. He stills, eyes widening slightly as he takes in the way my head rests against his arm, my fingers wrapped tightly around his hand.

His lips part again, and this time his voice is a little sharper. “What happened?”

My head shoots up and I realize I’m still holding him. The moment our eyes meet, my fingers unclasp from his like I’ve been burned. My face heats, my pulse racing.

Xaden clears his throat. “Okay, we’ll leave you two alone.” He shoves Garrick and Bodhi toward the door, muttering under his breath. The door clicks shut behind them, leaving an unbearable silence in their wake.

“Hi,” Liam says softly.

I swallow hard. “Hi.”

My throat constricts, my emotions tightening into a painful knot. I don’t know how to hold back the tears that well up again, spilling over before I can stop them. My shoulders shake, my breath hitching. “I thought I lost you, Li,” I whisper brokenly.

His expression softens instantly. “I’m here.”

The moment he opens his arms, I fall into him, my body wracked with sobs. His arms tighten around me, anchoring me, and I grip his shirt as if he’ll disappear if I let go. “I tried to be there faster,” I cry, my words tumbling out between ragged breaths. “I tried, but I was too far away. I saw Deigh, and the wyverns, and then you—oh god, Liam, there was so much blood. You weren’t breathing, and I didn’t know what to do. I stopped time in your wounds, but your heart—your heart was barely beating, and I thought—I thought—”

“Y/N.” His hands find my face, cradling it gently. His thumbs brush away my tears, his gaze steady, grounding. “I live because of you. You saved my life.”

I shake my head fiercely. “I should have been there sooner. I should have—”

“No,” he whispers. “You did everything. And I’m here. Because of you.”

I let out a shuddering breath, my forehead resting against his. The warmth of him, the steadiness of him, makes my chest ache with something too big to name.

His voice is softer now, almost hesitant. “I remember one thing before everything went black.”

I pull back slightly, blinking away the remaining tears. “What?”

Liam’s eyes search mine, something unreadable flickering in their depths. “You told me you loved me.”

The breath is stolen from my lungs. My heart stutters.

I could pretend I don’t remember. I could laugh it off, say it was delirium or desperation. But why would I? Why would I waste another second pretending I don’t know exactly what my heart wants?

“I did,” I whisper, my voice trembling. "And I’m sorry it took nearly losing you for me to realize it. I don’t understand how I never saw it before—how I never saw you. Liam, you have the most beautiful soul I’ve ever known. You have this way of making even the darkest days seem a little brighter, of making the impossible feel possible. You’ve always been there—without hesitation, without expecting anything in return. Every time I doubted myself, you reminded me who I was. Every time I stumbled, you caught me. You believed in me even when I couldn’t believe in myself.

You were the one who made me laugh when I thought I’d forgotten how. The one who stayed up with me on those endless nights when my past wouldn’t let me sleep, holding me, keeping me tethered when I felt like I was slipping away. You listened when no one else did, and you saw parts of me I didn’t even realize I was showing. You never turned away—not from my fears, not from my flaws, not even from the parts of me that I thought were too broken to love.

You are everything, Liam. The best thing that has ever happened to me. And I don’t know what I’d do without you. I don’t ever want to know. I love you, Liam. I love you more than I ever thought I could love anything in this world."

His hands slide into my hair, pulling me closer. “I love you too, Y/N.”

Then his lips are on mine.

It’s soft at first—hesitant, as if neither of us believes this moment is real. But then it deepens, and warmth spreads through every inch of me. His fingers tighten in my hair, and I melt against him, pouring every ounce of feeling into the kiss.

When we finally pull apart, his forehead presses against mine, both of us breathless, both of us smiling softly.

“Thank you for saving me,” he whispers.

“You would have done the same.”

And then I kiss him again.

[eviesaurusrex]

Though I'm just halfway through Iron Flame and don't know how Xaden turns into a venin and of like rest of the fandom and Vi, as of now we don't know the cure for it too. I stumbled upon some 'venin-cure' theories and one of it inspired this idea so hear me out.

Ik Xaden turned into a venin for Violet. As per theories, if he can become one for his love, he has come into the realization and give up what he took (the direct power).

Finally the idea: the reader is actually pregnant. It's up to you if Xaden knew it earlier or not but maybe like idk they're in a war zone or whatever situation, he was going to kill somebody or whatever and at that moment reader faces Xaden. Telling him that she's not going to fight him, she let go of her dagger or sword, trying to remind him of himself, showing him his ring still on her finger. When she sees him calming down, she may take his hand and touch her barely visible (or visible) belly, begging him to let go of the power, reminding him that he's in control of himself, begging him to come to her and their baby.

summary: After Xaden turned venin, YN tries everything in her power to get the love of her life—and the father of her unborn child—back.

word count: 5.3k (whoopsie-daisy)

warnings: dragons, injuries, weapons, blood, pregnant!YN, incorrect events, my lacking knowledge about the majority of IF and OS, my take on the venin topic, angst, survivor’s guilt, fluff, Brennan being the older brother type of friend, venin!Xaden, post-venin!Xaden

author’s note: Thank you for the ask, dear anon! I haven’t read Iron Flame and Onyx Storm yet (I’ve started with IF a couple days ago), so this is my take on the plot and has nothing to do with the actual plot in the books. I hope you enjoy my silly ideas! (And please, don’t come for my head :x) I'm sorry it took so long to get this thing done—I just couldn't stop writing. The dividers are made by @enchanthings-a!

Startled, YN woke with a gasp, her hand instinctively flying toward her lower abdomen, touching the tightly laced flight leathers, and took one steadying breath when she felt the still unfamiliar tiny bump one could easily miss. It wasn't broad knowledge that she expected a child because if so, no sane member of the squad would allow her to continue flying out with them, fighting with them. Only one person knew of her condition—the one person she couldn't hide a thing like that from, not when he was to keep mending her injuries after a particularly gruesome fight. He had felt it the second his hand had touched her shoulder, and there was nothing she could've said in order to convince him of being wrong about it.

She had known for a while.

But she had more pressing matters at hand not to think too closely about what this would mean in the foreseeable future.

Finally, YN realized what had woken her, and her eyes immediately jumped toward the commotion in the hallway, the door ajar and not fully closed. Voices echoed into the dim sitting room she had chosen a few hours ago when she had returned from her patrol on dragon back, her body aching and filled with exhaustion. Only a few hours and then you wake me again, she had told Violet and Mira, but obviously, neither of the women had respected her wish. Typical. The thought crossed her when YN pulled herself up, quietly grunting when her feet still burned, and her back still struck her with searing pain.

Sleeping on a couch wasn't the wisest of the ideas she had in the last couple of weeks.

"No, Violet," Brennan's voice suddenly cut the air in a tone one rarely witnessed the eldest Sorrengail use. "But—" Violet tried to interfere, and with quiet steps, YN rounded the coffee table, heart galloping in her ribcage. "I said No." Another voice entered the conversation the woman had a hunch was about her. "She'd want to know, Brennan. If the report is true, it's Xaden, and we're talking about YN, for heaven's sake. She'd want to know," Garrick almost hissed behind the door, and her heart rate sped up even more, her breath hitching.

Xaden…?

The Sorrengail practically growled at that, and the shadow now stretching through the crack in the door was most definitely his as he stepped in front of it, blocking the way. "Let her sleep—she needs it. Have you seen her when she came back?! She isn't in the constitution to fly back into a battle which could easily end her life if it's really Xaden. Have you thought about that for just a second? What it would do to her? How distracting it would be because all she will think about is how to save him, but not herself?"

Brennan was right; even YN could admit that. But despite how much she had grown to like him—even love him as the brother she never had—he couldn't stop her from whatever she tried to accomplish, especially not when it happened to concern the one man she loved more than anything in this world. So it was easy to grab the sword resting against the armchair and push it into the sheath strapped across her back, the quiver and bow following closely.

The steps of her boots echoed through the room, not caring if anyone would hear her because she would be gone before they'd realize she had been awake to overhear them. She knew Riorson House better than her own home, so it was easy to open the double-sided windows into the morning hours of the day barely beginning, the sky tinted a pretty hue of pink and red. Her feet found the stone edge of the windowsill, and her hands grabbed onto the sturdy vines climbing across this side of the house, and with a grace she didn't feel like having in her tired body anymore, YN swung herself into the green and climbed down, disappearing into the city.

Her mind opened further and searched for the bond to her dragon, feeling his dark presence in the back of her mind, his focus sharp and unyielding. "Are we off to another battle, Stormy One?" If the situation were different, YN would probably huff at the silly nickname the dark beast had given her even before her signet had manifested. "Yes—and I don't want to hear a single word about not being allowed to do so anymore. I'm not made of glass all of a sudden." She would never sit behind just to please others, not when the happiness of her future was hinging by an almost nonexistent thread.

YN would never leave him behind in the dirt, having to fend and fight for himself like he had done for so long. No, she would move heavens and earths in order to find the one thing that would bring him back.

The dragon huffed into her mind, displeasure evident. "I am not one of your human friends, girl. I may not feel entirely content with flying into battles while you are carrying a child, but I will protect you both. Nothing will happen to either you or the little one." His words hung heavy between them; not only a fickle promise but a vow. "I will hold you to that," her voice only a whisper, her hand gently touching the leathers across her belly when she reached the outskirts of the city where the dragons rested.

Tairn was already in front of them, Sgaeyl right next to him, and both dragons watched the woman stepping closer, determination evident on YN's face. "It is him, girl, isn't it?" Her voice flooded her mind, and YN stopped before the blue daggertail, nodding at her question. "Yes." It was as simple as that. "I do not know how you gather all this hope in your heart, and I do not need to understand it. But if one can find a cure and bring him back, it is you, storm wielder." Swallowing, YN stretched one hand out when Sgaeyl lowered her proud head and pressed the side of it against the small palm, warmth seeping into her skin at the contact of the blue scales. "I cannot lose hope. I won't. Not with so much at stake."

It wasn't just her life that could be ruined if she failed, but the life of her unborn child as well. She didn't want the tiny being growing inside her to grow up without a father, without the man YN had learned to love so deeply; it seemed impossible at the beginning. This baby had a right to know their extraordinary father—not just through stories and whispered tales behind closed doors.

The ring resting on her left finger felt heavy at that moment; the promise they had made to one another was almost like a burden on her shoulders. If Xaden couldn't carry it, she would do it for both of them until they stood in front of a priest, blessing their union, and making them one in the eyes of the gods.

"YNN—fuck!"

The shouted curse made her turn, blinking against the rising sun to find Garrick stumbling uphill, almost losing his footing in the dewy grass. "YN!" His eyes found her when he stumbled across a stone, and his massively built body was almost floored to the ground. "And that one is bonded to Chradh?" Sgaeyl growled without a flicker of humor, but YN knew—the blue daggertail meant it that way. She had it in her—somewhere. At least Tairn huffed in amusement for a moment before his protectiveness demanded its place, and he took one earth-shaking step forward, growling in warning when Garrick finally reached them.

The brunet watched both dragons with raised hands before he stared at YN, almost pleadingly. Icy coldness flooded her body, and she slowly shook her head. "No," she said definitively. "You won't make me stay." She turned, ready to climb Tairn's leg and leave Aretia behind, flying into battle just like the other riders already in the skies. The sound of his steps made her stop with her hands on the black scales, followed by the words she didn't anticipate. "I'd never dream of it, YNN. I want to come with you." Turning again, the woman watched him, one of her closest friends, trying to decipher if he truly meant it. "You want to come with me?" It sounded more surprised than she had initially planned, and he seemed relieved by her question. "Yes. I know you have Tairn, and you don't need more protection than that, but let me be by your side, watching your back. Just in case. I want to help however I can because that's…—that's what Xaden would want me to do."

Hurt flashed inside her very being at the sound of his name, at the reminder of what she had lost all those weeks ago during the attack when he had tried to protect her with everything that he was, paying the ultimate price for her safety. It was her fault. YN knew that, and everyone around her knew it, too.

Swallowing against the all-consuming pain threatening to push the tears back into her eyes, YN slowly nodded, stepping closer and letting him pull her into a tight hug. "Thank you," was all she whispered into the leather protecting his chest, feeling a kiss pressed to the crown of her head. "We will find a way."

He couldn't possibly know that, and still, it warmed her heart that she wasn't the only one clinging to hope.

The sun had almost risen to its zenith when they finally arrived at the battlefield, already littered with bodies—both human and venin—and without having to tell Garrick her plan, he followed close when Tairn dove into a fall to rip a wyvern off of a green dragon and its rider. Chradh was close behind in order to grip onto the wyvern's wing, holding it in place with Tairn, and Garrick shielded his eyes as soon as he saw YN raising both her hands, calling for her signet. The energy gathering above her charged the air around them, and when she felt the now familiar sensation of it tickling her skin, she let the lightning loose, aiming at the venin screaming on their dragon and eradicating them in a silver flash, burned to the bones. The wyvern's distressed sounds quieted when its rider died, and both dragons let it fall toward the ground, roaring triumphantly.

YN's breath had grown shallow at the power cursing through her, feeling it eating on her energy and strength, but she couldn't stop. Not until she had found Xaden among their enemies.

"We need to find him!" She shouted over the fighting noise around them, echoing off the mountains surrounding the valley. Garrick all but nodded and let his dragon fly to the side of the valley, flying wide circles over the terrain. YN did just that as well, letting Tairn choose his own part of the area, knowing he would look out for any enemies to destroy them with her while also searching for his mate's rider.

After almost an hour, the woman pressed herself flat on her dragon, trying to catch her breath. "I don't know how long I can do this," she let the black shadow carrying her know even though he had already sensed it. "I know, Stormy One. You did well." His deep, rumbling voice was comforting in her mind, warm even at the praise. "We should not encounter much more, I promise. They are fleeing like rats," he informed her after another bend around the valley, the mountainside towering right next to them, and indeed, the commotion of the fighting grew fainter with each passing moment.

At least until Tairn roared in warning and leaped into a free fall, making YN scream in surprise before she gathered her wits again and pressed herself even tighter against the black scales underneath her, holding on tight onto the pommel of hardened dragon skin, tears straining her eyes despite the flying goggles protecting them. "Chradh," was all her dragon pushed into her mind for an explanation, and immediately, worry filled her. "Garrick," she whispered into the strong winds trying to push her off of her dragon, but her body was trained into perfecting flying, holding her right where she belonged as Tairn roared anew and spat out a wall of fire, separating Garrick and his dragon as he fought off a venin and their wyvern.

With a fighting scream herself, YN let the lightning gather its strength above them before it rained down on their enemies, the impact throwing the brunet several feet away, but the venin crumbled into dust, and the wyvern died in the dirt next to them. Without waiting for Tairn to land fully, she climbed off her seat and slid off his back, the jump straining her knees when she hit the ground and almost tumbled face-first into the grass but gathered her balance in the last moment. "Garrick!" YN shouted for him as she started to run, crossing the distance through the cloud of sand, dirt, and smoke, coughing when she finally passed it with a hand covering her nose and mouth.

The glint of a sword in the sunlight was the first and only warning she would get, her body and mind moving on instinct alone—her own sword drawing as she leaped into the space between a passed-out Garrick and his attacker, and the horrible sound of clashing sharpened steel traveled across the valley when they stood head to head. It took a moment too long for YN to realize the recognition coursing through her when her eyes wandered across the opposing steel, taking in the intricate runes hammered into the surface.

She knew those runes. She had seen them numerous times when she had watched him cleaning and polishing his sword in the courtyard of Basgiath or their bedroom in Aretia. She had memorized them every time she had watched him train with one of their squad mates. She had kissed each and every one for strength and protection before he had been sent off into battle.

Her gaze jumped, traveling in dragon speed up the familiar body while her heart stopped for several long beats; the organ clenching painfully in her chest when she reached his handsome face, now lined with red veins, his once onyx eyes now tinted an angry shade of red.

She had done that to him.

Only because of her very existence did Xaden take too much and turn into their worst nightmare.

It's all my fault.

The sentence echoed through her mind, bouncing off the walls in every direction possible, making the pain and the loss almost unbearable.

Their swords still met between their bodies, pushing against one another in a silent fight, both staring into each other's eyes, unmoving. "Xaden," slipped past her lips in a desperate plea, trying to make him realize who she was, what she once had been to him not that long ago. The red in his eyes grew in its intensity at the sound of her voice, and he bared his teeth to her, growling, but he didn't use his entire strength to push her blade into moving toward her very own throat. "Xaden, please. You know who I am—I know somewhere in there is a part of you that knows me, just how I know you." It was merely a hope in the form of a silly blade of grass she clung onto now because she couldn't possibly know what still lived inside him and what had died that day. Sgaeyl wouldn't tell her if Xaden still communicated with her because this would ultimately mean that some part of him had survived.

Tears spilled over her cheeks, and her hands around the hilt of her sword started to shake at the strain in her muscles, forcing a sob out of her. "I have to believe that something remains in you, Xaden. Something I can fight for. You did this for me; you fought to keep me safe and alive, and now it's my turn to do the same. Do you understand me?" He leaned in closer for a heartbeat or two, taking her in, but not a single word left his lips. "I would never abandon our promise," YN whispered, and with one final push, she threw her sword away, somewhere to her right, way out of reach. Tairn tried to invade her mind, but all she could do was block him out.

She couldn't do this.

Her hope shriveled into a meager little sapling, prepared to turn brown and die.

Pulling off the ring Xaden had gifted her six months ago during a starry night filled with laughter and love, she held it up between them, the light blue aquamarine—his birthstone—catching the sunlight. "You gave this to me as a promise of a future together when all this is over. I promised you the same in return—a life filled with joy and happiness because that's what you deserve." He paused at that; only for a moment, but it was there, she knew it. "I won't fight you because I keep my promises. I always have."

Slowly, YN raised her other hand, pulling the bow and quiver off her back and letting it tumble to her feet; her daggers, strapped across both ribs and thighs, followed close. He watched her with an almost unnerving intensity and made her skin crawl, but it was still Xaden—somewhere deep down, it had to be him. Vulnerable as she was, she didn't expect him to raise his sword again, not when he had been almost calm, and she knew she would die—just like her hope and her baby. Their little one.

Another tear slid down her face when YN kept staring into his eyes, not letting him out of sight. He seemed to struggle against his own mind, his muscles flexing and trying to fight off whatever it was. The sword came closer and closer, the sharp blade almost nudging the skin at her neck when his movements stopped anew, his breathing hard and fast, and a droplet of sweat rolling down his temple.

"I won't fight you, Xaden," YN whispered again, never breaking their gazes, never moving an inch away from the death sentence that was his blade. "I have loved you for so long, and I will love you even after my death." Nothing in this world or beyond could take that away from her, not even Xaden himself.

One of her hands wrapped itself around the deathly steel, and YN didn't even flinch when she cut herself; the pain immediate and burning, the blood trailing down it, catching at the runes on its way to follow gravity. His eyes widened a fraction, now watching her blood, her injured hand, his chest heaving. She gripped the sword tighter, the red of her life essence spilling between her fingers, marking the moment when the sword he had sworn would always protect her, hurt her. "Look at me, Xaden." It was both a demand and a plea, and Xaden looked back at her, something like shadows curling in his red irises. "I know you're still in there, Xaden Riorson. Somewhere a part of you has survived, a part that did not succumb to the power, that could not hold on to it."

Gritting her teeth, YN pulled at the sword, feeling the steel digging deeper into her flesh, more blood seeping out of the wound, drenching her arm, and she only stopped when she felt it right against her neck, resting on the vulnerable vein pulsing right underneath her skin. She knew she couldn't cling long enough to this life to be saved when the man she loved decided to nick the skin, and she would pay the ultimate price in her pursuit of saving him.

She watched as Xaden's swirling eyes jumped to the point where they were joined, watching the blood trickle down, watching her hurt herself for him. His still handsome face contorted in confusion, in agony, in despair; the emotions so clear and almost palpable, YN could reach out and feel the pain radiating off his body.

"I know you can let go of it, Xaden. You are so strong, so incredibly brave. You overcame things no human being should even have to overcome. You are the best of all of us, you carry the burden and still live for a codex only the worthiest of men can live up to."

He was so close now that she could feel his warmth through her flight leathers, feel that ratchet power cursing through him.

"You never wanted this, you never strive for the absolute power, Xaden. This is my fault, and I would happily accept this burden if it means freeing you from it." A quiet sob forced its way out over her lips, and Xaden bent infinitesimally closer, the shadows claiming more of his eyes, fighting against the venin-red in a bitter fight for dominance. YN wanted to kneel in front of him, to beg every deity, every power in this world for guidance, for help, but instead, she continued to stare up at him, continued to bleed for him.

Perhaps she would pay the ultimate price for being too hopeful.

Shakily inhaling, her other hand softly, gently touched his wrist, feeling the warm skin, the electricity still dancing between them whenever they touched. "I need you," was all she could whisper when she had coaxed his hand from the corded hilt of his sword, his arm easy to maneuver in her hold as if his mind had to fight its battle without forcing him to withstand and fight everything he faced in reality. "We need you, Xaden."

There wouldn't be a kick for a long while, but the swell of her belly was unmistakably palpable for a hand as big as Xaden's, for fingers so long they almost entirely covered her front. Without moving or even breathing, her eyes watched him gazing down at their point of contact, skin touching skin, and his eyes flashed red, but his hand didn't move from her stomach, from where they had created something magical without knowing it.

"Please… Let go of it, my love. If not for me then for them. They deserve to know their incredible father. They deserve to grow up in a household filled with love, laughter, and strength. They deserve to know you."

Xaden's fingers that were pressed into the leather covering her body slightly flexed at those words, the red still warring against the shadows trying to reclaim their master, the veins pulsing angrily at the sheer force of power trying to eat him alive. His sword shook in her hand, and when he let go of the hilt, YN quickly abandoned her own hold on it, cupping his face in her hands, her warm blood covering his cheek. A deep growling groan escaped him as she pulled him down towards her, holding him right there, their foreheads pressed to one another.

"You are in control of yourself, Xaden—you always have been. Don't stop now when we need you the most." Whispering against his lips, YN kissed him despite everything, his hands flexing around her wrists and his lips moving in muted words, tears streaming down his face.

"Let go."

It was her last and final plea—perhaps both Zihnal and Dunne had mercy on them. Maybe it was sheer will. Despite not knowing what had changed, YN didn't question it when the mountain of a man fell to his knees and looked up at the sky, crying tears of blood and salt, an anguished battle cry escaping him. The force of power exploding around him pushed her backward, and instinctively, YN wrapped her arms protectively around her middle when she hit the hard, unyielding ground and rolled over stones and weapons before lying completely still.

Blinking against the ache and pain inside her body, she waited for something—anything.

And then—movements. Crunching stone under moving limbs and a deep sob traveling across the short distance.

“No. No, no, no, no! YN!”

She couldn't move, not daring to do so, when his oh-so-familiar voice entered her ears, and his warm body settled behind her, his warm hands grabbing her shoulders to gently roll her over. Coughing against the settling dust and squinting against the bright sky, YN looked up into his hovering face, one of his hands now cradling her neck and pulling her into his lap, sheltering her with his broad body.

"Xaden…?"

Another sob escaped him, tears of blood still streaming down his face where vein after vein slowly retreated, and the red in his irises being swallowed whole by the familiar onyx black specked with flecks of gold and amber. She still couldn't grasp it, not until his hand raised hers to his lips, kissing one blood-stained knuckle after the other.

"It's really you," YN whispered and smiled tiredly, her own tears leaking from the corner of her eyes. His nod was all but a confirmation; her hope starting to blossom into something more sturdy and permanent. "Whatever you did, it pushed the part of my soul still left behind to fight harder than before." His voice was hoarse from the lack of use, but he kept her close to his chest, ignoring the shakiness in his arms. "Thank you." It was barely a mumble, but she still heard it despite the sounds from behind them.

"Don't you dare drag me again like some kind of massive bone! YN! Hey, woah. No, no, no! Stop killing your wife!" Xaden rose with her in his arms and turned to a reawakened Garrick, staring dumbfounded at his best friend. "Don't be mad at him," YN all but whispered softly, trying herself on a smile for their friend as he shortened the distance between them and took them both in, eyes widening and mouth almost agape. "I'm not." And still, she could clearly hear the hurt in his rough voice, which would take time to disappear. She would be there, though. For everything that might come in the aftermath, whatever he needed to overcome to close this chapter.

Tairn growled when his massive body landed, and his burning eyes settled on them. "I will not allow you to commit such miscalculated stupidity again, girl. I will not tolerate it! And do not dear block me out ever again!" Too exhausted to argue with the angry black dragon, YN all but nodded and allowed Xaden and him to carry her onto her seat, wanting to escape this place as soon as possible.

She needed to bring Xaden home and far away from here—so that's what they did.

The sensation of soft sheets was the first thing he picked up on when sleep finally evaded him, and he woke with a groan. Even softer hands, one wrapped in something aching to a bandage, immediately took one of his hands between hers, and the mattress dipped slightly when her weight settled onto its edge. He knew without looking that it was YN right at his side, just where she had been when he first arrived back at Riorson House, half delusional from the exhaustion.

Home.

When he opened his eyes, Xaden groaned yet again at the brightness filtering through the windows, the curtains barely containing the light from a properly beautiful day outside these walls, and blinking, his eyes searched for her face. He found her immediately, the worry-etched lines between her soft brows deepening, but still, she tried to cover it up with her smile illuminating his entire world.

His heart ached when he thought about what she had been through—what they had been through—he barely could look into her eyes even though he knew there was not a single trace of accusation to be found. Yet, he felt guilt eating at him for putting her into this situation, the danger. Xaden once had vowed to protect her with all that he was, and all he had—and that vow had been turned to dust.

"Hi." Her soft whisper, still edged by insecurity and disbelief, pulled the Riorson back, made his mind shut up in an instant as it pinpoint-focused on her. "Hi," was his quiet return, and both squeezed their hands simultaneously, pulling strength out of the small touch. "How are you feeling? Are you thirsty?" Already trying to pull away to fill the glass waiting on his bedside table, Xaden stopped her with another squeeze of her fingers, making her look back at him. "I'm all right," he promised because, despite the exhaustion still rattling his body and his muscles feeling weak unlike ever before, he was all right. More so than that.

He finally felt like himself again. And she was the sole reason that he still was here.

Gently coaxing her bandaged hand closer to him, the man pressed a gentle kiss to the covered palm. His memories from that day were foggy at best, but he vividly remembered seeing her blood spill—it was the moment when he dared to fight harder than he had ever done so in his life to get back to her.

"I'm so sorry."

His voice grew raspy and even deeper, the distress clinging to his words. He did all that to her. To them.

"Don't you dare apologize for something you would never choose willingly, for something you couldn't control, Xaden Riorson. I won't allow it." Her words came immediately, and he sucked in a deep breath, feeling her hand gently cradling his face, the pad of her thumb caressing his cheek. He felt his eyes as they grew glassy, and blinking against it, Xaden pulled her hand off his face to press it against his steadily beating heart while his eyes traveled down her body until his gaze rested heavily on the barely there curve of her stomach.

"How are you?"

A soft laugh escaped YN at his question, making his lips twitch in growing joy. "We're okay. More than that now that you're with us." Lacing their fingers, YN let his hand cover the tiny bump hidden behind her flowy tunic, sighing deeply when Xaden's fingers flexed above it. "I think I heard Brennan shouting in the hallway last night," the Riorson mused, watching her roll her pretty eyes. "He spilled the secret, and now everyone knows of my… condition. That's what he did."

They both knew the Sorrengail only acted from a place of worry and love; YN didn't have to spell it out for him.

"I'm glad there was someone who took care of you and the little one when I couldn't," Xander murmured, making her look at him. "But I am here now. I will renew my vow to always protect you and our child, mo chroi. You two are my home, my everything." His voice broke at the last word, and she was there immediately, claiming her place at his side, allowing him to wrap her in his arms, pulling her incredibly close. Xaden felt her soft, warm lips press gentle kisses along his neck and jaw, like the touches of butterfly wings when they strove too close and her fingers buried into the short hair at the nape of his neck. "You are our everything, too, Xaden," YN whispered back, gently coaxing him to look at her where she was pressed to his body, her head resting comfortably on his shoulder. "Whatever comes, we will be a family. We will be one. I will protect you with everything that I have and everything that I am—you and our child."

Those words still amazed the Riorson, his mind still reeling every time he dared to think or speak them, not yet entirely at ease with the thought of their existence in this world filled with war, battles, and enemies. But he would protect them—he would protect them with his life.

Nothing would come between him and his family.

Never again.

Thank you so much for reading! Please consider leaving a like, a reblog, and a comment—it would mean the world to me <3

[bookshelftreasures]

In the Quiet Moments

Pairing: Xaden Riorson x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Summary: After a long day of battle, you and Xaden share a rare, quiet moment by the fire. As the night deepens, words unspoken find their way between you, forging a connection neither of you expected but both needed. In the stillness, walls begin to crack, and a new understanding takes root.

Word Count: 1,962

Warnings: Brief Mentions of War (no details)

Note: I don’t know if I like this one or not 🥲

✩⁺₊✩☽⋆⋆☾✩⁺₊✩ ✩⁺₊✩☽⋆⋆☾✩⁺₊✩ ✩⁺₊✩☽⋆⋆☾✩⁺₊✩

The night had fallen quiet around you, the campfire crackling the only sound that broke the stillness. You sat beside Xaden, both of you resting after a day's battle, the tension of your mission slowly easing away as the warmth of the fire sank into your bones.

The moon hung low in the sky, casting a pale glow over the landscape, and the world almost felt impossibly calm compared to the chaos that had ensued over the past few days. You let out a slow breath, feeling the weight of everything finally lifting, if only for a few moments.

You had expected Xaden to be off in his own world, brooding as usual, but instead, he was sitting beside you, his shoulders a little more relaxed than usual, his eyes staring into the flames, distant. You had come to know the quiet strength he carried, the weight of his past always lingering in his gaze, but tonight, there was something different. He seemed… almost peaceful.

You studied him for a moment, the firelight flickering across his features, throwing shadows that seemed to deepen the mystery around him.

His brow was furrowed, but there was no harshness in it. His gaze was soft, lost in thought, and you couldn’t help but wonder what was on his mind.

The silence stretched between you two, comfortable in its own way, yet you felt a pull to break it. You couldn’t remember the last time you had shared such a moment with him—just the two of you, no words of command or battle, no tension in the air. It was rare for Xaden to let down his walls, but tonight, there was something different.

Finally, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re awfully quiet tonight.”

Xaden’s head turned slightly, just enough to catch your eye, and his lips quirked up, “What, you expect me to talk when there’s nothing to say?”

You raised an eyebrow, your lips pulling into a small smile. “Couldn’t hurt.”

He chuckled, the sound low but genuine, and it sent a shiver down your spine. You hadn’t realized how much you missed hearing him laugh—without the edge, without the weight of his usual burdens hanging over it. “Guess I’m just tired.”

You tilted your head, watching the way his shoulders seemed to soften in the flickering light. “Don’t say that like it’s a bad thing,” you teased, nudging his side with your elbow. “Rest is important. Even for people like you.”

Xaden’s brow furrowed, though this time, it wasn’t with the usual sharpness you were accustomed to. “People like me?”

You grinned, meeting his gaze. “Yeah, you know, the brooding, always-on-edge type.”

He rolled his eyes at that, but there was no bite to it. His lips curled into a small, almost reluctant smile. “I guess it’s just what happens when you spend your whole life waiting for the next fight.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of his words settle between you. “Yeah, well, I think we all have our walls.”

For a long moment, the two of you sat in silence again, but this time, the quiet didn’t feel heavy. Instead, it was easy, like the space between you was just... comfortable. You found yourself leaning slightly toward him, the warmth of the fire and the familiarity of his presence wrapping around you like a protective cocoon.

Xaden didn’t seem to mind the closeness. In fact, he shifted ever so slightly, just enough to brush his arm against yours. It was a small gesture, but it felt... meaningful, like a reassurance that, for once, you were both just two people who needed to share this stillness.

“I’ve been thinking,” you said, your voice quiet again. “You know, we don’t always have to fill the space with words.”

Xaden’s head tilted just a fraction, his eyes never leaving the fire. “No? What do you mean?”

You shrugged, your gaze drifting to the flames. “I think there’s something comforting about just being here. No pressure, no noise. Just... this.”

You could feel him looking at you, his dark eyes searching, and when he spoke, his voice was softer than usual. “You think so?”

You nodded, meeting his gaze for the first time in what felt like forever. “Yeah. It’s nice to have someone to just be with. No expectations. Just... a quiet moment.”

Xaden studied you for a moment longer, and then, for reasons you couldn’t fully explain, he let out a small sigh, leaning back slightly against the tree behind you. “You’re right. I guess I haven’t had one of those in a while.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you simply let the silence fill the space once more. The stars were beginning to twinkle brighter as the fire dimmed, and you felt like you could sit there forever, letting the world fade away, just the two of you and the warmth between you.

Eventually, Xaden shifted again, his movements slow and deliberate as he turned to face you, his expression unreadable for the most part, but there was something soft in his eyes. “You know... I don’t think I’ve ever been able to relax like this around anyone before.”

The admission hit you like a wave, and for the first time in a long time, you could feel the weight of everything that had been left unsaid between you. There was a connection here, something deeper than the casual exchanges and the battles you fought side by side.

You leaned in a little closer, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m glad I’m the one you can do that with.”

Xaden’s lips curled, just slightly, but it was a smile you hadn’t seen before. “You’ve got a way of making things... less complicated.”

You smiled, your heart feeling a little lighter. “I try.”

The fire crackled in the background, and the cool night air wrapped around you both, but in that moment, it didn’t matter. The world felt still, the chaos of the past forgotten for a while, and the only thing that mattered was the quiet between you two.

As the fire slowly began to die down, you both stood, stretching out the tightness in your limbs, but neither of you moved too far. Xaden lingered for a moment, his eyes lingering on yours before he said, “Get some rest. We’ve got a long day ahead.”

You nodded, your heart still racing slightly from the unspoken words, and turned to walk back to your sleeping spot. But before you could take a full step away, you heard his voice again, this time quieter, but firm.

“I mean it, you know,” Xaden said, his gaze steady and unwavering. “You make things better. Even in the quiet.”

Your chest tightened, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, Xaden.”

And as you settled into your blanket, the night was darker than before, but somehow, you felt like you were glowing. Because in this quiet moment, you knew something had shifted—something new was beginning. And you wouldn’t be alone when it did.

[actuallybarb]

here with me

pairing: male x gn!reader (i tagged with a lot of different male characters i find comforting, but there’s no names used so you can imagine anyone you so please)

word count: 0.6k

warnings: reader is in pain (nothing descriptive), he comforts. just fluff

a/n: i wrote this as a result of my own migraines, but i kept all the symptoms vague because any chronic pain is a bitch, and you deserve to be treated softly by the person of your choice

The apartment usually wasn’t this quiet when he got home.

Or this dark.

He set his keys on the counter and left his boots by the door, then carefully stepped through the apartment. The kitchen and living room were both empty, and the office looked like it hadn’t been touched all day.

There was no light under the bedroom door. He set a cautious hand on the doorknob, but a quiet whimper had him opening the door without question.

You were laid out on the bed, on top of the covers, with an arm draped over your eyes. The ceiling fan and rotary fan on the ground were both spinning at top speed, and he could just see a dark bag poking out under your neck.

He quietly closed the door and returned to the kitchen, now a man on a mission. He grabbed a straw and a water bottle from the fridge, then took an ice pack from the freezer and wrapped it with a dish towel. He took the last item, a bottle of painkillers, from the cabinet and silently returned to the bedroom, the only sound of his presence being the faint click as the door closed one more time.

“Baby?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

You let out another small whimper.

“How bad is it?”

“9.5.”

Unbearable, then, if you were using an actual pain scale.

He set his items on the nightstand and took a seat beside you on the bed.

“Meds?”

“At 3.”

Only a couple hours ago, too soon to take more. He put those beside the lamp.

He uncapped the water bottle and put the straw in, then he gently tucked a hand behind your head and lifted. “Drink.”

Your lips wrapped around the straw, and he didn’t pull the bottle away until you’d swallowed at least four times. But before you could lay back down, he replaced your old ice pack with a new one. You shivered a little, but the cold was a welcome reprieve.

“Stay or go?”

You could’ve cried. He’d stuck with you through this so many times he knew your comforts by heart. He read your moods instantly, and most of the time didn’t need promptings, but he always took the time to ask when it got bad like this. And he never shamed you for only being able to say a few words at a time.

“Stay.”

It nearly came out as a sob.

He shed his jacket and started unbuttoning his jeans. “Shirt or no shirt?”

“Soft.”

He took off his current shirt and replaced it with his sleep one, nothing decorating the black fabric, just ultra-soft cotton.

“Where do you want me?”

It differed every time. Sometimes you didn’t want him at all, the thought of another person with you sending jolts of pain through your body. Other times you wanted him to stay, but on the other side of the bed. Or you wanted him close, but barely touching.

“Top.”

Or sometimes you needed him to put all of his body weight on top of you like a human weighted blanket.

“Covers?”

“No.”

He positioned himself, knees on either sides of your thighs, then he slowly lowered himself until his hands on either side of your face were the only thing keeping him up.

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

He finished lowering himself and settled his full weight against you.

You sighed in relief.

“Better?”

You nodded and tucked yourself into the crook of his neck. “Better.”

“Three taps if I’m suffocating you.”

For the first time that day, you took a deep breath and relaxed.