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writinginatree · 3 months ago

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Cared For

Relationship(s): Bodhi Durran & Xaden Riorson & Riorson!reader

Summary: Xaden takes care of you and Bodhi after RSC.

Warnings: Mentions of torture, injuries, nonsexual nudity (showering together), reader has heart problems

You stumble from the interrogation chamber with the rest of your squad, blinking into the late afternoon sunlight as the professor who just finally released you drones on and on. You should be listening, in case he's talking about something important, like having to do this shit again or something, but you can't focus on the words, mindlessly clinging to Bodhi, whose arm is linked with yours so you can help each other stay on your feet.

Well, okay — if you're being honest, it's mostly Bodhi helping you. He's worse for wear too, but still faring decidedly better than you.

You're not sure why it is that they went especially hard on you — because your father had been the Great Betrayer, because they recognized you as the weakest link of your squad, or because you refused to show any pain and they were determined to change that. In the end, it doesn't matter. You didn't break. You survived. That's what you have to focus on. Another one of the stupid trials this cursed place puts you through that you've overcome. One step closer to eventually making it out of here alive.

Finally the professor is done talking and allows you to leave.

The walk back into the quadrant proper passes in a blur, one stumbling step after the other as Bodhi pulls you along. Since he's well aware of your aversion to healers, and since neither of you is that badly hurt, he doesn't bother to suggest going to the infirmary and takes you straight to the dormitories. Your room is closer to the stairs than his, so that's where you go, slumping onto the bed side by side, too exhausted to lift a finger, though you know you need to get cleaned up, or at the very least remove your boots. In a moment, you tell yourself. As soon as the room stops spinning, you'll get up and do it.

Minutes later, a knock sounds on the door, startling your poor, tired heart into doubling the pace of its beating.

"I think Cuir asked Sgaeyl to send us Xaden," Bodhi soothingly murmurs, sitting up and unlocking the door with lesser magic.

Sure enough it's your brother who enters the room a second later, grimacing at the state he finds the both of you in. "Shit, are you guys okay?"

"Yeah," you and Bodhi mutter, "Sure."

Admittedly, that's a bit of an exaggeration. But okay is a flexible term, and you suppose things could be worse. You know the question was just reflex anyway, and Xaden is perfectly aware that no one is ever truly okay after just getting out of an RSC torture session.

He comes over to the bed, crouching down beside it. You feel shadows stirr underneath and all around you — no doubt Xaden 'subtly' taking inventory of your injuries. You've lost track of what hurts where about an hour into the exercise, your whole body one big ache, but you're pretty sure most of the damage is superficial. It's your heart giving you the most trouble, thanks to having missed this morning's dose of your medication, and simple dehydration.

"Are you feeling strong enough to shower?" Xaden asks.

Bodhi nods, but you hesitate. Getting up the stairs without fainting had been challenge enough, so you roll over to turn a pleading look on your cousin. "Can we go together?"

When Bodhi nods, you nod too, and Xaden helps you to your feet.

"Alright," he says, "you two get cleaned up, and I'll be back with some food and a first-aid kit."

The showers are blessedly empty, and you let yourself plop down on the floor, the cold tiles digging into your bare knees as Bodhi turns on the water, a less than lukewarm spray raining down on you. Cold as you feel, you would have preferred your water steaming hot, but you know that would only make your already too low blood pressure worse, so you don't complain.

Bodhi sits down behind you, takes a handful of soap and gently massages it into your scalp, careful to avoid pulling all the tangles that have formed in your hair from the rough treatment you'd been given.

"You don't have to," you half-heartedly mutter.

In truth, you're not entirely sure you can muster the energy to do it yourself, and with the way you're finally starting to relax under his touch, Bodhi rightfully ignores the protest and continues to help you wash.

By the time you dry off and pull on fresh clothes, you're shivering with cold, but your head is a little clearer, and you don't feel like you'll pass out any second anymore, either.

Xaden is already waiting in your room when you return to it, the soft glow of mage lights illuminating the space since dusk has fallen while you were in the shower. He has brought not only the promised food and first-aid supplies, but also Garrick.

Taking a seat on your bed, you don't bother reminding him that it's illegal for more than three of you to be together; he's doubtlessly well aware of the trouble you'd be in if you're caught, and simply doesn't care because he can tell how much you need the company right now.

You shudder to think that he and Garrick had to go through the same experience last year without anyone to comfort them. Thinking back, you try to remember if you'd noticed any injuries on them around this time of year, but you can't recall. Even if you had noticed, Xaden would have brushed you off with some excuse to stop you from worrying.

The thought makes you frown. You have no doubt they'd been as hard on Xaden as they were on you — probably even harder. It's not fair that he'd had to get through that on his own, that he always has to go through everything alone because he thinks that's what being the one with all the responsibility means. Ever since the apostasy, since he took on that responsibility for all your lives, he never lets himself be weak in front of anyone — even you. Of course you're grateful for everything he's done, is still doing, his care and protection, but you wish he would let himself be taken care of, too, when he needs it.

His hand on your shoulder snaps you out of these thoughts, and you blink up at him, wondering when you closed your eyes. The plain worry on his face makes your eyes swim with tears, and you tell yourself to pull it together — to no avail.

"They did that to you too last year," you mumble, not quite a question. "You should have let us be there for you."

"First-years aren't allowed to know about RSC," Xaden reminds you, hand on your chin to angle your head sideways so he can get a better look at a scrape on your jaw.

You know that's not the reason he kept it from you, at least not the only one, but you let it go, knowing he just wants your best.

Treating your wounds doesn't take long. Mostly it's bruises — a lot of them, swollen and hot to the touch, decorating you in various shades of red, purple, and blue. There isn't much Xaden and Garrick can do about those, though they diligently smear them with some stinky salve that's supposed to soothe the worst of the ache.

To you it just feels cold and nothing more, but you don't complain. Not about the useless stinky ointment, nor about the burn of disinfectant in your open scrapes and cuts. You're simply too exhausted to do anything but force yourself to stay sitting upright, letting Xaden do whatever he wants. He knows better what you need right now than you do, anyway. You're limp in his hands, letting him turn you this way and that to get at all your wounds, his shadows supporting you when needed.

He pays extra attention to your wrists, the skin there rubbed raw from your fruitless attempts to slip free of the chains they'd put on you in the interrogation chamber. Even through the fog of exhaustion hanging over your mind, you don't miss the sorrow that passes over your brother's face as he takes in the harm you did to yourself. He is uncharacteristically gentle as he bandages your wrists, even going so far as to press a little kiss on top of each, the way your dad used to do when you were little. You tear up again at the action, have to bite your trembling bottom lip to keep from crying.

Done with your wounds, Xaden helps you get comfortable sitting against the wall with a pillow at your back, a soft blanket over your lap and tucked in around your waist. Bodhi already sits next to you much the same way; the comforting warmth of his shoulder against yours helps you ground yourself in the present.

Xaden puts a bowl of soup into your hands, ordering you to eat. It's not quite hot anymore, having stood on the desk while Xaden and Garrick patched you guys up, but still warm enough, and you consider it a bonus that you can't burn your mouth on it anymore.

When you're done, Garrick takes the empty bowls and leaves, but Xaden remains.

"I guess we'd better get you two to sleep," he says. "You've had a long day."

"Can Bodhi sleep here tonight?"

"Does Bodhi want to sleep here?" Xaden counters, looking to your cousin for answer.

To your relief, he agrees. You're not sure you could stand being alone right now, with the memory of today's torture still so fresh in your mind and the lingering dizziness you can't seem to shake.

"Okay," Xaden nods. "Then he can."

After tucking the both of you into bed, Xaden turns to leave. Before you can think better of it, you reach for his hand, silently pleading with him to stay a little longer. He sinks back to the floor beside the bed, brushing a hand over your face in an attempt to get you to close your eyes.

"Sleep. I'm here."

Bodhi moves closer — at this point he's practically lying on top of you — and butts his head against Xaden's hand with a little whine. Your brother gets the hint, and starts to pet Bodhi's hair, his other hand still gripped tight in yours. He doesn't need to have his hands free to make you close your eyes again — a soft layer of shadows descends on your face like a blanket, leaving you in complete darkness. It should be unsettling, but somehow, it isn't. Encased in the safety of your brother's shadow, you can finally keep your eyes shut and actually try to fall asleep.

Which is easier said then done, despite your exhaustion. While your body is fully ready to shut down, your mind won't stop racing. Bodhi is having the same problem, if the way you feel him fidget is any indication.

Xaden starts softly humming, and after a moment, you recognize the melody as an old Tyrrish lullaby. It had been your favorite one as a child, but after all these years, you'd almost forgotten it. Now the words come back to you like magic, even if Xaden doesn't sing them.

Trying to remember the song text and sing along in your mind gives you something to focus on other than the day's events; your racing thoughts can finally settle down. Slowly the tension leaves your body and your breathing evens out as sleep descents over you.

But just as you finally drift into that calm drowsy state, your heart skips a beat and you jolt wide awake again.

Xaden is quick to soothe you. The shadow over your face disappears, replaced by others that gently hold you so you don't startle Bodhi by sitting up. Xaden gives your hand a reassuring squeeze, more shadows caressing your face as he murmurs, "Shh, you're okay."

You slowly relax again, nuzzling your face into Bodhi's shoulder and mirroring his slow, deep breathing. Xaden starts to hum the lullaby again.

He stays until he is sure both of you are fast asleep, then he gently removes your hand from his, placing it in Bodhi's instead, and slips into the hall.

#bodhi durran x reader #xaden riorson x reader #fourth wing x reader #fourth wing imagine #xaden riorson imagine #xaden riorson x sibling!reader #xaden riorson x sister!reader #platonic reader insert #platonic #riorson!reader #marked!reader

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ladybirdswritings · 4 months ago

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LITTLE WITCH, FIC — xaden riorson x reader.

DESCRIPTION: you wake— a captive girl with untamed power and no recollection of its origins. before you is a scarred, shadowy figure, whose taunts ignite your abilities—binding your fates in a dangerous encounter. NOTES - fourth wing fic !! leave me all your thoughts and opinions. i love them <33 | next part

two;

“What are you doing?” Your voice trembled, unsteady—a ballerina with mangled feet, poised yet painfully unnatural.

Xaden’s lips twitched, the faintest ghost of a smirk, as his fingers grazed the mahogany brush in his grasp. He didn’t answer, his dark eyes narrowing as he closed the distance between you. He seemed amused by all of this, or perhaps prideful.

You sat there, unchained but weak-hearted—though he had kept his promise. You were unchained.

Unchained and seated on an unfamiliar bed with grand, imposing posts and onyx-silk sheets. After an excruciatingly tense dinner, where every set of eyes at the table had cut into you like blades, Xaden had led you here. The silver-haired girl, in particular, had clutched her dagger tighter each time his gaze drifted toward your slouched figure.

Their whispers had danced around you like a ghostly waltz—sharp, feverish murmurs about your bruised wrists and hollow eyes. But you’d been too exhausted, too hollow yourself, to care. The soup in front of you had demanded all your focus.

You didn’t trust them. You didn’t trust him either—this man of shadows. Yet, inexplicably, he had fed you, given you a bed. And now he was… brushing your hair?

It was matted, straw-like, and stained with memories you couldn’t quite pluck free. The brush snagged against a knot, yanking sharply, and you winced. Xaden tensed, his patience fraying at the edges.

“I’m going to run you a bath,” he decided after a moment.

You didn’t protest.

He left, disappearing into the adjoining room, and when he returned, his outstretched hand was waiting for yours. Calloused, steady, and strangely anchoring. Against your better judgment, you placed your trembling palm in his.

“Come, little witch. If I wanted to bite you, you’d be bitten already.”

But as you rose unsteadily to your feet, his words stirred unease. He intended to join you.

The thought snagged on a sharp edge in your mind, but you were too weary to resist.

“Choose, Y/N,” a voice whispered from the corners of your memory, harsh and grating. “Kill him, and your power will be imminent.”

The agony hit like a tide, crashing over you until you clung to the onyx countertop for support. Xaden’s hands twitched at his sides, but he made no move to steady you.

When you raised your head, the mirror greeted you with a face that was hauntingly familiar: your own, but hollow, bruised, and unrecognizable.

“Y/N.” The name fell from your lips like a prayer, fragile and disbelieving. “My name is Y/N.”

Xaden nodded once, his towering presence unmoving.

“Yes, it is,” he said simply.

A flood of questions threatened to spill from your tongue, but you turned to him instead, accusation lacing your voice. “You know me.”

His expression didn’t falter as he began rolling up the cuffs of his midnight-black shirt, exposing veined forearms.

“No,” he said, his voice like gravel, “not personally.”

The irony wasn’t lost on you, given that he was about to bathe you. He looked at you expectantly, yet you made no effort to move. He needed to answer your question. You needed to know why.

“Strip,” he ordered, his tone firm but not unkind.

You remained still. His jaw twitched.

“If you’re going to sit there rotting in gods-know-how-long a time worth of grime, it’s going to be a great inconvenience for me. So you need to wash yourself— with or without my help. Your choice.”

Heat flushed your face, and the protest died in your throat. “Not. Personally,” you muttered under your breath, mimicking his earlier words. Were you to just sit wide eyed while he ran those awfully mangled hands down your skin? Your breasts, your— well.

For the first time, the corners of his lips lifted in genuine amusement. Slowly, he stepped forward, tucking a stray strand of your tangled hair behind your ear.

“Trust me, little witch. To me, you’re nothing more than a finely honed blade— sharp, useful, and exactly what we need to—” he stopped himself, and though you did not recognize much— you knew it was apprehension flashing in his eyes. “My desire belongs to the silver-haired girl downstairs.”

And your love, your mind supplied.

If that were true, why had they treated each other with such loathing at dinner?

Though Xaden’s words were an attempt at easing your hesitance— you still remained unmoving. Yet your prolonged silence seemed to unnerve him. He shifted on his feet before offering a compromise. “I’ll turn around.”

True to his word, he faced the wall, giving you the privacy to peel away the tattered cloth clinging to your starved body.

“Don’t turn around,” you whispered, tension straining your voice.

“I won’t,” he said softly, his shoulders rigid. “In the tub.”

The water enveloped you like an old lover, soothing every ache and gnawing pain. You curled into yourself, knees to chest, but when he turned back, the shadows didn’t entirely conceal you.

Xaden knelt by the tub, cupping water in his hands and letting it cascade over your hair. His touch was careful, deliberate, as he massaged circles into your temples. The silence between you was fragile but strangely comforting.

“You know of me,” you said at last, rephrasing your earlier accusation.

He hummed in acknowledgment, his hands moving with practiced precision.

“What am I?” The question hung between you, heavier than the steam rising from the bath.

Not who. What.

He paused, his fingers lingering on the sharp angles of your collarbone before he answered. “You’re very special.”

The words were maddeningly vague, but you didn’t have the strength to push. Instead, you murmured, “How did you find me?”

His hands resumed their work, scrubbing soap through your matted locks. This time, he didn’t pause.

“It took a very, very long fucking time.” He sounded exhausted at the idea of it.

“But you found me,” you pressed, desperate now. “Why?”

And then, the madness prickled at your very mind once more. Phantom voices humming… his voice— and his still lips. All within your head.

She doesn’t know her worth yet.

You think you do? This voice belonged to a woman.

She’ll learn soon enough.

Better hope she survives the lesson…

Before you had even a moment to ponder those ominous words, he tipped your chin upward, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“I told you, you’re special, little witch. But don’t make the mistake of thinking you know what that means yet.”

Your breath hitched as his words sank in. But before you could respond, he draped a washcloth over your trembling hand.

“Wash yourself,” he said, his voice dropping an octave.

Your cheeks burned as you obeyed, turning your body away from him to complete the task. When you finished, exhaustion pressed heavily against your fragile frame.

You knew your name, but not your home. Your love, your family or friends. Did you have any? This cage with its high stone walls and scrutinizing creatures, it frightened you.

“Please,” you whispered, tears blurring your vision. “Help me understand. I—I’m afraid.”

His eyes raked over your expression for a long moment— a mixture of admiration and pity flaring within them. He cupped your face in one damp hand, his thumb brushing away the tear that slipped free.

“Stop crying. I’ll help you understand,” he said, his voice soft but unyielding. “And you’ll hate me for it. But make no mistake, little witch: what my rebellion does to you won’t be wasted. You’re a weapon, dormant for too long. It’s time to wake you up. It’s time to win the war.”

🏷️’s: @emryb

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quietstormxr · 6 months ago

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Master List

Taglist

Xaden Riorson

No Need

Green Dragon - Part 2

Healing Scars - T/W: Contains self-harm, depression and suicidal thoughts.

Favorite

Forgotten - Tomorrow, Always Tomorrow - Home

Alone

Sacrifice

Bodhi Durran

Clueless Girl - More than Worthy

Garrick Tavis

You'll Survive - Found You Again - Only Mine

Underestimate

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ashleyrosereads · 3 months ago

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Sun Shower - Ch. 1

a Ridoc x fem reader fanfiction

I know I'm not the only one obsessed with Ridoc after Onyx Storm so I putting all my passion into a Ridoc x reader fanfiction that I hope you enjoy! also eventually this will be 18+ just be patient

The chiming of the bell announces eight o'clock, it's time.

The ringing strikes my ears and throughout my entire body as I move toward the line forming for the riders quadrant, chancing a look at the northern turret. The direction I should be heading in.

I keep my hands from fidgeting, as I wait in the long line. Fidgeting shows nerves. Shows weakness. I will not be making myself a target on day one. Heather told me everything I needed to know for the impending day. Showing nerves on day one was an easy tell of a weak cadet, she said. I trusted every word of wisdom she gave me over the summer, she has been the only girl in our village who lived to tell the tale of the riders quadrant in many years. Even if I didn't trust the information she gave me, it was the only information I had. So I clung to it with every fiber of me being.

I kept my hands on the straps of my pack as I waited, watching the world around me continue to move. There was a breeze in the air, and it was sunny for now. The darkening clouds on the horizon didn't calm any of my nerves though. I could only hope I would get across the parapet before any kind of storm hit.

A strangled sob came from my left. A mother was crying in a man's arms as her child walked into the line. Other families were scattered around clinging to their candidates. Some are sending them off with smiles while others it’s with tears hugging their cheeks. Just like her.

I couldn't help but feel utterly alone in that moment.

Of my own fault though. My dad begged to be here and see me off. But he didn’t need to see me openly defying the lifelong legacy of our healer family to become a rider. It’s better he’s in the dark, then the stress of daily life won’t become harder wondering if his daughter could die at any moment.

He would understand why, but it would still kill him knowing what I’m doing every day. Even knowing I’m doing it for mom. After her death, we'd both been inconsolable. He buried himself in the farm. And the more I thought about Basgiath, the more I couldn’t stand being in the sidelines healing. I want revenge. And I plan on getting it. So I buried myself in training.

The line continues to move and I leave my hands on the straps of my pack to hold me steady. The weight of my backpack is light, but once I get to the front of the line it feels as if I filled it with boulders as I bend over and write my name on the blank sheet before being guided into the door of the turret.

The bright light from the outside dimmed automatically in the dark column of stone. There wasn't a window in sight in the spiraling stairwell leading to the parapet above. I continued forward until I reached the cadet in front of me, about ten steps up.

He seemed to be chatting away with the guy in front of him. He wasn't the only one as there was a muttered chatter that drowned out what anyone was actually saying. I wasn't sure what I was expecting but chatter wasn't it. I assumed it would be quiet, foreboding maybe? How could anyone have light conversation at a time like this. I can’t help but keep moving forward, breathing through the nerves and closely watching each step so I don’t have to fall to a deadly fate too early.

The lack of windows mixed in with the heavy breaths of those surrounding me made for a taxing climb. The walls felt as if they were closing in, not knowing if the staircase was actually getting thinner or the anxiety of what I was doing was catching up to me.

I went to take a step, looking too closely at the stair under my foot and not in front of me. I didn't realize the line had stopped moving and walked right into the candidate in front of me. Almost causing a domino effect of tripping, if he hadn’t so smoothly caught himself on the wall of stone. The man turned toward me, his dark eyebrow lifted hiding behind his curly black hair that hung over his bronze forehead. He crossed his arms, showing off his bulging muscles.

Did all riders look like... this?

“Well hello” his sure voice purrs. “Trying to get rid of the competition early?” He says with a lilting voice.

I froze for a moment. Not sure what to say to that...Joke? “No. Just not paying attention. Sorry about that” I answer. He shrugs it off.

“No harm, good last minute balance practice” his smile hasn’t faltered, as he waited for her to do something, say something. What was I supposed to say to that? “Ridoc” he adds, holding out a hand.

“I'm not interested in making friends” I try to snap. The last thing I need is to be getting attached to anyone on the first day of death camp.

“What about the benefits?” He asks, making me scoff. What is this guy on to make him so damn lighthearted walking into the most dangerous quadrant in existence.

The line moves and he takes a step up backwards, not glancing behind him. No hand on the wall, nothing.

My confidence that he will make it across seems more sure than my own.

“You setting up your conquests already?” I ask because, well honestly, maybe the other people have a point. As the light toward the top of the turret brightens a distraction is alleviating.

“Well I’m looking to celebrate tonight, this guy here’s not interested” he gestures his head toward the blonde guy in front of him who doesn’t acknowledge the exchange.

“How unfortunate for you.” If I had this guys confidence I’d rule the world.

“Well it doesn’t have to be.” He winks. I can’t help but laugh. In the eye of death this man is cracking jokes.

I can hear the front of the line now. People giving their names before crossing and shouting outside. Is that rain too? Oh shit.

“So my room or yours tonight?” He leans against the stone wall, crossing his legs.

“We don’t get rooms until after threshing” I correct him. Heather told me that. She also told me not to get distracted by advances until after threshing, not only because then I'll have my own room but also because if someone distracts me then they can easily stab me in the back. Literally.

“Right right.” He bites his lip, contemplating “we will just have to find a nice broom cupboard then. I’m sure there’s plenty.”

“You are-“

“I know, irresistible.” I’m struck silent. Something is what I was going to say but I don’t find it in me to continue as we’re only a few people from the front. He goes to turn around but peaks back over his shoulder.

“You want to skip me in line?” He asks pointing at the spot in front of him.

“Why so you can push me off as punishment for almost getting you killed before parapet?” I ask, feeling my brow raising in question. I didn't realize it was possible for his smile to widen.

“No, there was no almost killing. You’ll have to be more inventive than tripping me on a staircase if that's your goal. I was thinking that if I follow you to the other side I’ll have more motivation to get there so I can start scoping out those cupboards.”

I let out another scoffing laugh. “Your impending death isn’t enough?”

“Not when you’re the other option” he winks.

“Name” the cadet barks from the entrance. Ridoc turns his head to the cadet. There were two there one taking names and another brooding by the opening.

And my gods they do all look like him.

“Ridoc Gamlyn” he says and the cadet scribbles the name.

“Alright. Go on.” He jerks his head to the exit of the turret. Ridoc turns one more time.

"See you on the other side Beautiful" He says before strutting out onto the parapet. The weather had worsened, there was a small spot of sun light in the dark clouds but not enough. Luckily the rain was only a slight drizzle and the wind didn't sound too relentless but making it across was still going to be a feat.

"Name" Barked the cadet, this time to me.

"Y/N Y/L/N" He scribbles it, barely looking over the parchment before waving me off.

"You're next."

#fanfiction #ridoc fourth wing #fourth wing #fourth wing fanfic #ridoc x reader #fourth wing x reader #ridoc gamlyn #ridoc gamlyn x reader #iron flame #onyx storm #reader insert #fem reader #chapter one #sun shower

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spnhunter4life · 5 months ago

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Good Morning

Summary: Ridoc is dying to share the latest gossip he's just discovered about a certain squadmate or two.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: none

A/N: Hello everyone! Sorry in advance for the somewhat lengthy note here. Don't feel obligated to read the whole thing. So, I'm back and writing again! Not only is this my first fic back after nearly 6 months, but it's my first Fourth Wing fic! It is also my first time writing for anything other than Supernatural. After finishing these books I did the only logical thing and started searching out fanfiction to cope with the very real Fourth Wing hangover I was dealing with, and I was a little disappointed that there aren't more Liam fics out there since he is by far my favorite character. So I guess this is me, getting a start on putting more Liam fics out into the world. You're welcome? Maybe? Hopefully? Anyway, this fic is mostly just a lot of banter between the squad. Writing this kind of friend dynamic doesn't come super easily to me, but I'm actually pretty happy with how it turned out, so I hope you enjoy it too! (Also, big thank you to anyone who actually read this whole thing!)

Masterlist

“Good morning!” Ridoc chirped with the biggest, most knowing grin on his face I’d ever seen. I glared daggers at him as I took my seat at the table next to Violet, Liam setting his plate down and sitting next to me.

His cheerful greeting was widely ignored, acknowledged only by Sawyer who managed little more than a grunt in reply.

Undeterred by this lackluster response, Ridoc continued cheerfully, “It is a great morning, isn’t it? What do you think, Rhi?”

I continued my glaring, but Liam merely rolled his eyes.

“I think it would be better if you weren’t being so loud,” Rhiannon, who had the misfortune of sitting next to him, grumbled.

“See? Rhiannon agrees,” Ridoc continued, either not listening to her answer or just ignoring it in favor of his obvious goal. “What about you, Violet? Having a good morning?”

Violet looked at Ridoc a little warily, catching on to his tone. “I suppose so,” she agreed.

Sawyer, who was also catching on, began to look suspiciously around the room before focusing back on our table. “What’s going on, Ridoc?” He asked.

“Hmm? Oh, nothing,” Ridoc replied in a tone that was far from casual. “But since you ask, you know who I hear is having a particularly good morning?” That knowing smile was back, but toned down into more of a smirk than an all out grin.

“Ridoc,” I warned since my glaring evidently hadn’t made my point.

“I heard Sam saying he saw Jesse coming out of Avery’s room this morning.”

I felt the tension leave my shoulders and everyone else rolled their eyes.

“That’s old news,” Sawyer said.

“Doesn’t mean it’s not a great morning for them,” Ridoc countered.

Conversation seemingly over, I turned to Violet.

“Hey, are you still available to help me study for that history test tonight?” I asked her.

“Yeah, of course,” she immediately agreed. “I’ve got some useful tips to help you memorize-”

“You know who else is having a great morning?” Ridoc cut in. My glare returned full force and I kicked him under the table. He yelped and Sawyer looked curiously between us.

“Seriously, what’s going on?” He asked.

“Ridoc caught me kissing Y/N this morning and apparently has nothing better to do than gossip about it,” Liam said, cutting off the ensuing battle of wills and drama before it could really start. Everyone gaped at him. I saw slightly squinted eyes and tilted heads as if they were replaying his words, sure they’d heard him wrong.

“Wait. Seriously?” Rhiannon was the one to break the silence, a grin slowly forming on her face.

I shot Liam a half hearted betrayed look and sighed. “Yes, really!” Ridoc said excitedly before I could say the exact same thing, albeit in a much less enthusiastic tone. It’s not that I didn’t want them to know, it’s that I didn’t want them to know yet. The truth was, we’d been together for just over a week now, and while I was loving it, I wasn’t ready to make the best thing I had going public knowledge to be gossiped about.

“You know how Liam’s been giving Y/N sparring lessons before breakfast?” He asked. While I hadn’t been performing poorly on the mat by any stretch of the imagination, I still had lots of room for improvement and had asked Liam to help me. Those lessons, those quiet times we had together with no one else around were what finally pushed us together. Turns out we’d both been pining for quite some time.

“Yeah,” Sawyer said, a not so subtle push for more information.

“Well I was up early this morning and decided I’d go see if they could use my help.�� This earned a snort from Rhi. “Anyway,” he continued, brushing off the wordless comment about the state of his own fighting skills, “I walked into the room and, what do you know? Turns out ‘training’ was just code for making out.”

“It was not!” I objected, a little too loudly. Several heads turned our direction and I felt my face heat. “He’s really been helping me,” I continued in a quieter voice. Liam, who was usually my go to for help in an argument of any kind, was apparently too busy being pleased with himself to back me up. I could see him fighting the smug smile threatening to take over his face. I fought the urge to roll my eyes again.

“So was this a heat of the moment, one time thing, or what happened? You know we need details!” Violet prompted.

“Heat of the moment?” I asked, eyeing Liam as I remembered his arms around me as he encouraged me to break his hold. His eyes heated as he remembered too. “Yes. One time thing? No.”

“So how long has this been going on for?” Rhi demanded.

“Barely more than a week,” Liam answered. “And we were going to tell you. We just wanted to keep it to ourselves for a little bit.”

“You know what? I don’t even care that you didn’t tell us,” Violet assured us. “I’m just so happy to see you two finally admitting you’re into each other.”

“Yeah,” Rhi agreed. “To be honest, all the obvious staring and longing looks were getting a little old. I was about ready to step in and do something about it.”

“Like what?” I asked warily. She wasn’t one to hold back or do things the easy, gentle way, so if she truly had been planning something, then I’m glad we beat her to the punch.

“I don’t know. Kiss Liam to make you jealous. Find someone dumb enough to kiss you to make Liam jealous. Ridoc, maybe.”

“Hey!” Ridoc protested at being called dumb, but it was a token protest at best. We all knew he would’ve done it with very little prompting.

“Get a ridiculous, teenage version of truth or dare going and either have you kiss each other or force you to admit your feelings,” she continued. “Or maybe just beat you both around the head and tell you how oblivious you were both being.”

“My money’s on the last option,” Sawyer muttered, loudly enough that we all heard him. I was inclined to agree. The other options she’d listed were not really her style. She preferred a more direct approach.

“Well, luckily for us, there will be no beating necessary,” Liam said.

Ridoc grinned. “Au contraire, my friend. It sounds like some beating was very necessary. Unless you’re going to change your mind and tell me that training was just an excuse to make out after all.”

I huffed in exasperation and Liam shook his head, a fond smile on his face.

“If all we were doing was making out, why would we even come up with an excuse? Why would we not just spend the night together? It would be a lot simpler,” I pointed out.

“It would be simpler, wouldn’t it?” That ridiculous grin was still firmly plastered on his face. A quick look around the table confirmed that the rest of our friends were wearing similar smiles.

“Something to keep in mind,” Liam chuckled. “But in the meantime, I think you’ll all be quite impressed with Y/N’s improvements at our next squad training session tomorrow night.”

“Oh yeah?” Violet asked with a sly grin. “Been putting her through her paces, have you?”

Ridoc choked on his water and started violently coughing to expel it from his lungs. Rhiannon thumped him on the back as she snickered.

Liam’s eyes sparked in surprise and then the corner of his mouth quirked up in a rarely seen – and unfairly attractive – mischievous grin. “Why, Violet? You thinking about joining us?” I could practically see the snarky retort forming in her mind, but just before she could voice it, Liam continued. “I’m a little preoccupied with Y/N, of course, but I could always ask Xaden to help you out.”

Violet turned red at the mention of the wingleader.

“Yes, Violet,” I grinned. “You do love seeing him without a shirt on.” I couldn’t help but reference the way she had openly stared at him yesterday while he and Garrick sparred.

“Oh please,” Rhi scoffed. “As if we’ve never seen you ogling Mairi when his shirt’s off.”

Liam turned a surprised look on me, eyebrow raised in question. I shrugged. There was no point hiding it from him anymore. “Guilty as charged.”

Liam’s smile turned back to smug and I rolled my eyes. “Oh, don’t give me that look. It’s not exactly news to you that you’re attractive.”

“And that means I’m not supposed to like knowing that you’ve been looking?” He challenged. Then he leaned in to whisper in my ear. “Or are you telling me it doesn’t do something to you when you catch me looking at you that way?”

My face felt like it was on fire with how quickly the blood rushed to it. I whipped my head around to stare at him incredulously, surprised he would make such a comment right in front of our friends. They hadn’t heard him of course, but their knowing smirks said enough about their ability to guess at what had been said.

“I thought we were teasing Violet now,” I managed to choke out. Liam’s thumb rubbed soothingly over my knee in silent apology, but the gleam in his eye told me he wasn’t sorry for making the comment, only that there were other people around.

“Her infatuation with Riorson is old news. This is much more interesting,” Ridoc answered.

“Interesting or not, if we’re going to make it to Battle Brief on time, we’d better get going,” Sawyer informed us. I glanced around the room and realized he was right. The morning’s usual mass exit was starting as everyone hurried to make it to class. We all stood up and followed them.

“Seriously, though,” Sawyer said, dropping back to walk beside us for a moment. “I’m happy for you two.” There were echoes of agreement from the other three walking directly ahead of us.

“Thanks,” Liam and I answered at the same time.

This day hadn’t started out quite how I wanted, what with our friends finding out about us, but I realized it wasn’t such a bad thing. A weight I hadn’t even realized was there was lifted off of my chest with the relief of no longer having to keep a secret from our squadmates.

I couldn’t seem to keep the smile off my face the whole way to Battle Brief. When I joined the rider’s quadrant, I was prepared for hard work and sacrifice and spending my days miserable and alone. Instead, I had a wonderful group of friends that would do anything for me. I was lucky enough to be in a relationship with the most incredible man I’d ever met. And I was happy, I realized. Happier than I’d been in a very long time. Maybe ever.

I reached for Liam’s hand under the table. He entwined our fingers without question, and I knew he would hold on until the need to take notes required us to let go. I couldn’t be upset with Ridoc anymore about outing us to the squad. I was too grateful to be a part of this little family we had all created together. I smiled to myself as I remembered his over the top greeting this morning in preparation for teasing us and how annoyed I had been. He was right, though. It was a good morning.

#good morning #fourth wing #fanfiction #liam mairi x reader #liam mairi #violet sorrengail #ridoc gamlyn #sawyer henrick #rhiannon matthias #reader insert #fluff

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inky-writing · 4 months ago

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INKY MASTERLIST

Hello Inkers! Welcome to my page!

Here some "rules" and things to know:

MDNI: if you are under 18, just leave, I will probably write sm*t at some point, so it's not for you

If your age doesn't appear on your page, you will be blocked

If you have a request about a particular character that is not listed, send it, but note that I will have to do some research first to make it accurate

The requests are treated in order, no need to be impolite because it doesn't go as fast as you want, I'm still human and have a life

Any insult or unwanted message, and you will be blocked.

If you want to be tagged in a fic, or for a specific character, send me a message :)

You can also find me on wattpad under @ inky-writing

Schedule

Monday & Friday: Mirage

Sunday & Wednesday: Freedom

Tuesday to Thursday & Weekend: requests and one-shots (might change if I start a new serie)

Thank you!

ACOTAR

Fourth Wing

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Hunger Games

Harry Potter

Teen Wolf

Top Gun

Lord of The Rings

Vampire Diaries

Original Stories

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nomie-11 · 8 months ago

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Chapter 1 - Chains of Starlight*

masterlist! | series masterlist | next part ->

Dark, damp, and the smell of mildew. A room, no bigger than 5 feet long and 5 feet wide, a single mattress and a ratty blanket, a sink, a toilet, and a boarded up door with a slit for food. The faucet never stopped dripping, the hollow plop, plop, plop haunting her as it rang out in the room, all day every day, for what felt like an eternity. Stone floors, stone walls, and stone ceilings. The smell of mildew.

There’s no escape from the humidity of this dungeon, not without a compromise Genevieve doesn’t want to make.

For every day of this torture, Genevieve Hale etched stars into her ceiling, one star a day, forming constalations she once mapped in the mountains of Aretia. Her hands grew raw from months of searching the stones for a crack, her body grew wearing from days of practicing her sparring on the door that blocked her from the outside she once loved.

Each kick against the door resonated against her, a cruel reminder of her futile struggle against confinement. She could almost hear the rustle of the leaves, the rush of rivers—it was a cruel juxtaposition of her current situation.

The only solace she found in the darkness was the faint memory of the stars above her grandmother’s manor in Aretia, twinkling above her like the promise of freedom. Every star etched into her sky mirrored the nights her mother would spend in her library, teaching Genevieve the stories of astronomy.

In this damp prison, Genevieve replayed her memories, each in a flickering flame against the encroaching despair. She remembered the warm embrace of the sun on her skin, the thrill of a sparring match under the sprawling sky, the feeling of her grandmother’s weathered hands braiding her hair into Tyrrish knots—moments she clung to as she counted the four hundred and seven stars on her ceiling. One for each day.

But hope, however fragile, flickered within her. As the familiar click of heels descended the stairs to her dungeon, she could see the light filter through the cracks in the bottom of the door. The dull thud of the dripping faucet became a metronome for her determination, but the sound of the heels descending was an omen for the future. General Sorrengail was coming.

Genevieve straightened her spine, feeling the tight pull of the raw skin around her wrists. The iron cuffs, long since rusted, had bitten into her flesh enough times that the pain was now a dull hum in the background of her existence. She wouldn’t flinch, though–not for Lilith Sorrengail. Not for the woman who had put her here.

The footsteps stopped just beyond the door, the shadow of boots barely visible in the narrow slit meant for her meals. A familiar, suffocating silence filled the room as Genevieve’s breath caught in her throat. She had heard this ritual countless times, but each visit, every word from the General, left fresh scars.

The boards covering the door creaked as they were pulled aside, and a sliver of magelight leaked through the opening. A face appeared. Cold eyes, just like she remembered.

“Still alive, I see,” Lilith’s voice cut through the quiet, it’s tone sharp and unforgiving. “I wasn’t sure you had it in you.”

Genevieve didn’t respond. She had learned early on that silence was her only defense. Lilith wanted her to break, to beg for mercy, to plead for release. But Genevieve knew better. Every word would be twisted, every crack in her resolve a victory for Lilith. So, she remained still, her fingers tracing the stone wall behind her.

“You must be wondering why I kept you here,” The general’s voice was almost conversational, as if she were discussing the weather or a new recruit. “Why someone like you–someone with such potential–would be wasting away in this pit?”

Geneveive’s heart pounded in her chest. She hated that part of her that wanted to know the answer. There was no denying the lingering question that had gnawed at her since her imprisonment. Why had she not just killed her? What did she really want?

“Why are you here?” Genevieve prompts, her voice smooth and calm, not betraying the racing of her heart. “Who do you want to protect so badly that you keep me alone down here?”

“I’m not here to spill my life secrets to you, girl,” She practically spat, her resolve shattering. “You’re lucky I kept you down here instead of just killing you.”

The younger girl bites her tongue, but she’s itching to scream.

“I’m here to propose a deal, a compromise of sorts,” General Sorrengail says, her tone evening once more, her mask of power and indifference settling softly onto her face. “I’m going to let you out of here, and you’re going to go to Basgiath and become a rider.”

Genevieve made no moves, no motions to say yes.

“While there, you’ll watch over Xaden Riorson for me. Do you understand? You watch him, and report back to me when you see anything… strange.” She leaned down, her face still as she crooned over Genevieve. “You’re in my hands, either you say yes, or you die.”

The words lingered in the air, thick with threat. You watch him, or you die.

Genevieve’s breath came out slow, controlled. She had learned not to react too quickly, not to betray her thoughts, especially when dealing with someone like Lilith Sorrengail. The General was dangerous–cold, calculating, and capable of twisting any situation to her advantage.

Her heartbeat thudded in her ears, yet her face remained impassive. She didn;t need to ask why she was chosen for this task. It was obvious. Xaden Riorson–son of the man who had led the rebellion, the rebellion that had nearly toppled Navarre, the rebellion her own father had supported. And now, General Sorrengail suspected Xaden was the leader of the rebellious remnants of Basgiath. What better way to ensure control than to send someone who had just as much reason to hate him as to ally with him?

But Genevieve wasn’t stupid. She knew this wasn’t just about spying on Riorson. There was always something more to Lilith’s plans. The General didn;t make moves unless the outcome benefited her in more ways than one.

“Why me?” Genevieve asked, her voice low but steady. She could feel Lilith watching her, evaluating, calculating.

“Because you’re nobody,” Lilith replied, her words cutting with brutal honesty. “You have no alliances, no family that matters anymore. No one will miss you if you disappear.”

Genevieve’s chest tightened, but she fought to keep her expression neutral. She wasn’t a nobody. She was a Hale. Even if her family had fallen from grace, even if her father had been branded a traitor, she still had her name, her skills, her strength. She still had something left, even if it was just the fire of her hatred for the woman standing in front of her.

“And what if I refuse?”

Lilith’s lips curled into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “And miss out on seeing the stars from the back of a dragon?”

Genevieve’s fingers tightened against the cold stone behind her. She knew Lilith was right. This isn't a choice. It had never been. If she refused, she’d die in this cell, forgotten and discarded like so many others before her. But if she accepted… if she played along… freedom was hers. She could see the sky, see the sprawling mountains, and watch the eagles fly.

“I’ll do it,” she said finally, her voice quiet but firm.

Lilith straightened, satisfied. “Good. You leave tomorrow.”

The general turned to go, but before she could leave, Genevieve spoke again. “One more thing.”

Lilith paused, glancing over her shoulder.

“When I’m done with your little task… what happens to me?”

The silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken implications. Finally, she spoke, her voice cold and distant. “Then you’re free.”

And with that, the door slammed shut, leaving Genevieve alone once more. The sound of the dripping faucet resumed, but this time, it didn;t seem as loud. Instead, Genevieve’s thoughts raced. She had a mission now, a purpose, even if it was wrapped in chains.

But she wasn’t a pawn, no matter how much Lilith Sorrengail believed she was.

If Lilith wanted her to spy on Xaden Riorson, she would do it. But it wouldn’t be for the general. It would be for herself, for her freedom.

Genevieve leaned against the cold stone, staring up at the stars she had etched into the ceiling. Tomorrow, she will leave this basement. Tomorrow she will prepare herself for Basgiath.

For today, she will sit in her dungeon, the flicker of hope growing into a flame.

—-------------------------------------

The heavy iron door was ajar the next morning when she woke up, and alone and cold, Genevieve rose to a stand, the iron shackles clattering to the floor without a fight. Her tattered clothes hung loose, her hair grew long, her skin pale, but she was still her after all this time as she crossed the threshold of the doorway. She had been prepared to die in this basement, but now, a world that she had once thought was dead to her was opening right back up, now with a mission she despised and a future she couldn’t predict.

She straightened herself, pushing her shoulders back and forcing herself to stand tall as she would when she was free. As she entered the stairwell, light from the top of the hallway hit her eyes. The walls still surrounded her, and it still smells like mildew, but the climb wasn’t daunting as she ascended the spiral staircase to freedom.

Genevieve ascended the spiral staircase, each step echoing off the stone walls of her former prison. The mildew still clung to the air, but the light at the top was more intoxicating than the stale darkness she had known for months. Every breath she took felt sharper, crisper, like a blade slicing through the haze of captivity.

Her bones feel brittle, her muscles tight, but none of it mattered. Not now. Her skin tingled as the late summer air slowly filtered down towards her. She stepped out into the sun, blinding her with its warm rays, a stark contrast to the cold, damp dungeon below. Her heart pounded as the light engulfed her, squinting against the brightness, but the moment she stepped out into the open air, the scent of earth and grass filled her lungs. For a brief, fleeting second, she almost felt free.

As much as she hated Lilith Sorrengail, she couldn't deny the excitement that flickered and breathed like a candle to a breeze within her. An endless sea of stars, and endless stream of sunrises. The sky, the stars, the dragons, the earth, it was once more hers.

Taking a deep breath, she savored the fresh air, the scent of life around her. The world was wide open before her, and for the first time in one year and forty two days, she felt the hope inside her shine. A small spark of dangerous desire, laced with anger and a need for vengeance. Genevieve Hale was free, but she was not the same girl that was locked away all that long ago. She was harder, colder, and every step forward was a step closer to making Lilith Sorrengail pay for what she had done.

Her fists clenched tightly as she stood there in the sunlight. Basgiath War College would be the battlefield for now, and she would make sure that every player in this twisted game understood one thing: Genevieve Hale was not to be underestimated. Not anymore.

-------------------

Hey guys! attempting to actually write a fanfiction for once after reading so many (cough cough Fear and Flame), so lmk what you think!

*Rewritten!

#fourth wing imagine #fourth wing x reader #fourth wing #xaden riorson x reader #xaden riorson #fourth wing xaden #fanfic #liam mairi #the empyrean #violet sorrengail #x reader #reader insert #xaden and sgaeyl #basgiath war college #liam mairi x reader #the wounded healer

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onlybeeewrites · 2 months ago

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Whatever it takes (1/ )

Pairing: platonic!Oc x Liam Mairi, platonic!Oc x Xaden Riorson, Oc x iron squad

Word count: 4.3k

Summary: Karina was nothing like her brother. Their father made sure to remind her of that. Now facing death in the face every day, she was glad she wasn’t. Now there are two Riorsons at Basgiath War College; what could go wrong?

Warnings: FOURTH WING SPOILERS, POSSIBLY SOME IRON FLAME SPOILERS — violence, mentions of death, scars, cursing, fire, parental death, bad parenting, and dragon attitude

Whatever It Takes series: Next

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The stone steps of Basgiath War College’s turret stretched endlessly upward. Up, up, up. Each one worn smooth by the countless cadets who had dared to climb before. For Karina, it was the only thing keeping her from her from her family. It was twisted, really. The fact that the death sentence that was the Riders Quadrant was actually bringing her closer to what she wanted most. What she needed most.

Behind her, her foster brother and arguably her best friend, Liam matched her pace as they climbed up the steps of the turret. His broad shoulders and easy demeanor a comforting presence amidst the tension that crackled in the air. The stuffy spiral stairway that was filled to the brim with cadets all willing to attempt to cross the parapet in hopes of surviving; to be Riders.

The wind outside whistled through the open windows as it continued to grow restless, as if it was eager for the show that was about to begin. And Karina could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She tightened her grip on her pack, one that should be full but was packed with so little. Clothes. A book from home. And one nice dress. It wasn’t much. Not that she had much to begin with after she had to leave her home six years ago.

But it was different now.

She was different now.

“You’re smiling,” Liam says, sounding almost amused. “What, are you actually excited to cross the parapet?” His eyebrow was raised. His voice filling her ears despite the fact that hundreds of other twenty year old’s voices are echoing back and forth against the stone. All eager. But there was a handful there because of obligation. Some were there because legally they had to be. Not because they wanted the glory or power that came with being a Rider.

But against all odds, Karina smiles despite the hammering in her chest and slight tremor in her fingers.

“No, but I am excited to see Xaden again.” The idea of seeing her brother after so long was the only thing that kept her going up those steps. Gods, did there need to be so many? Maybe she should have focused more on working on her legs than her sparring.

It had been now three years since Xaden had left and gone into the Rider’s Quadrant there at Basgiath.And it had been the longest three years she’d ever felt with only the occasional letters.

Liam scoffs. “Of course you are. Should’ve known you’d be thinking about your brother over the life-threatening death walk we’re about to take.”

Karina rolls her eyes and resists the urge to hit him with her elbow, “And Bodhi. And Garrick. It’s been years, Liam. Six years, since I’ve seen them. Now they’re all big bad dragon riders. I can’t wait to-“

“Stress them out?”

A wicked, mischievous grew on her face, “Exactly,”

Soon, the line came to a stop as the first candidate reached the top. Swallowing, Karina looked upward, knowing that her brother was just a few dozen stairs away now. Her heart pounded at the idea of finally seeing him. The knot in her stomach tightened as one by one, the cadets ahead of her crossed the parapet.

As they slowly reached the top, the wind hit them like a wall, whipping through them. And Karina was grateful that she decided to braid her thick hair and pinned it into a neat, bun at the base of her neck. Even though stray curls whipped around her with the wind, it wouldn’t be nearly as bad as it could be if she hadn’t. Because now just a few feet before them stretched the parapet—a narrow stone bridge suspended 200 feet above a raging river, its uneven surface leading to the Riders Quadrant’s citadel.

Her eyes snapped to the figure leaning against the entrance to the parapet. Tall. Still about 10 inches taller than her, even though she was in her boots. But he was in all rider black. A new scar on his face that wasn’t there when he had left Lewellen. The stubble. But the familiar welcome of his onyx eyes that reminded her so much of home.

Xaden had always been her home. Even when they were younger she would always follow along behind him and Garrick around their home. Even when Xaden would shoo her away to play with Bodhi instead. But mainly when their mother had left them.

Home no longer was a place.

It was her brother.

It was Xaden.

It took her everything not to run right up to him. They were targets here, no matter how high Xaden was in the ranks. She wasn’t. So she waited as one after another the Death Walk, as Liam called it. Besides, she was a Riorson, she had a reputation to uphold.

“Name?” The rider asked with an older looking scribe beside him. Her eyes snapped back towards him and cleared her throat.

“Riorson, Karina.”

The moment she spoke the rider and scribe both froze for a split moment. Their eyes darting upward to look at her. And she knew exactly what they saw. A traitor. A marked one. Daughter to the Great Betrayer. Tyrrish blood. It was enough to put a target on her back. But she had that on the moment she was born into the Riorson family.

Her eyes moved away from the rider taking down the names, not bothering to wait to hear what other smart-ass comments they had to give her. Because she met the eyes of her big brother. The one who she was so fortunate enough to be with while they were fostered after the Apostasy. The one who helped her though the nightmares after watching their father and the others, being killed by dragon fire. The same brother who she soothed and helped clean his back after he had gotten the one hundred and seven cuts on his back. One scar for each of the children of the rebellion leaders.

And now she stood before him. Insanely built. Tough and hardened. But alive. And that was more than anything else she could ask for. It was more than so many families could say about their children who even attempted.

But his eyes read a different story than the bored expression on his face. As much as he tried to hide it, she could tell he was happy to see her. Irritated that she had to be there.

“Riorson. Good to see you made it up in one piece,” Xaden said, his eyes darting briefly to Liam and nodding again, “both of you.”

Karina smiled, “well it helps that I kept up with my exercising and all,” she said simply, “you could look better. Though the scar makes you look ten times cooler than before.” She added with a smirk.

Xaden rolled his eyes, hiding his amusement. “Enough about my appearance, cadet. It’s your turn and you’re holding everyone up,” he said, nodding with indifference to the stone bridge ahead of her. He didn’t seem worried. Not that she could see anyway. Either before he didn’t want her to doubt herself or he had pure faith in her. Probably both.

“I’ll see you in the other side,” Karina said as she heard Liam give his name to the rider keeping track. Taking a breath she stepped up onto the parapet and walked forward before pausing briefly.

Karina looked upward to the sky as it was darkening. The wind picking up quickly. And she was honestly surprised it wasn’t raining yet. Maybe she’d be able to make it across before the storm got worse. She quickly checked herself over. Her plain long sleeve black shirt and pants, along with her sturdy boots were nothing fancy.

But she had never been so grateful for her brother’s advice. Before arriving at Basgiath, he had told her the rules of the Riders Codex, the rules they all live by. And according to it, whatever you cross the parapet with is yours. So she did just that.

On her waist, a leather belt held a set of daggers, each one sheathed and ready for her to grab easily. The first was positioned at her right hip, a slim, curved blade that could cut through skin like paper if she was quick enough. The second was tucked on her left thigh, a little smaller but no less dangerous. The third and final dagger was positioned at her waist.

Their father had made sure to leave one of his daggers for her. And for her 20th birthday she was given it. As if a final gift from her father. And as much as she had a complicated relationship with him, she cherished those daggers close.

“Get on across, Riorson,” she heard Xaden’s voice scolding in her ears, and she shot him a playful glare over her shoulder. That must be his Wingleader voice Bodhi had written to her about.

“You should remember I don’t like to be rushed,” Karina said, but regardless looked ahead. Her brown eyes flickered upward at the swirling storm clouds above them. Any minute now it’s going to start downpouring. And she did not want to be on this death trap when it did.

Karina took a deep breath, her gaze fixed ahead. The wind was stronger here, tugging at her clothing and tousling her hair. She could see faint markings on the stone—painted lines demarcating quarters of the bridge and indicating the halfway point.

Taking a deep breath she calmed down her racing heart and stuck out her hands as she moved out, away from the safety of the battle monuments and into the open air. Goosebumps rising on her skin. The wind howled around her, and the chasm below seemed to yawn endlessly. Karina’s focus narrowed to the stone beneath her boots, the rhythm of her breathing.

Focus. Breathe. One foot in front of the other.

That seemed to work for her. Eyes ahead, one step at a time. Before she realized, she reached the halfway point, marked by a faint red line. And for a moment Karina allowed herself a brief glance to the side. The view was breathtaking—the sprawling expanse of Basgiath, the winding river below, and the distant peaks beyond.

Yes; even in this terrifying moment, with the storm waiting to unleash any moment, with the raging river, the wind, she couldn’t help but admire it. She was forced to be there. Stuck in what was supposed to be a death sentence.

But Gods was it beautiful.

“Mairi, you’re up,” she heard her brother’s voice say, and a quick glance behind her showed that Liam took his place onto the parapet. But she quickly returned her focus to the path ahead. This wasn’t over just eh.

The final stretch approached, and the parapet began to widen slightly, the stone walls of the Riders Quadrant’s citadel becoming visible. The wind seemed to intensify here, swirling around the narrowing bridge. Her fingers brushing against the cool surface for added stability in those last several feet.

Karina felt like she could breathe as she finally stepped through the archway, her boots crunching on the gravel. The courtyard was expansive, capable of accommodating a thousand riders. Its layout resembled an angular teardrop, with the rounded end constituted by a massive outer wall at least ten feet thick, designed to support the weight of dragons perching upon them.

“Name?”

Karina’s eyes snapped to the red-headed rider with the parchment. She seemed to want to be anywhere but there. And Karina could only imagine how tiring it could be to take name after name after name.

“Riorson. Karina, Riorson,” she said, keeping her head up as the second year seemed to pause. The redhead looked up to her and narrowed her eyes for a moment,

“Riorson?”

Karina crossed her arms over her chest, staring back at the older girl, refusing to look away. To back down. She couldn’t trust anyone here. No one but three other Marked ones. The risk of them coming after her were higher than most. Especially with her name attached, and with her brother here? Mixed with her father’s reputation? A recipe for disaster.

The second year just let out a small huff before nodding her head aside, “move on. Wait for assignments.” She said, and Karina smirked before moving to the side, grinning as she watched Liam cross easily.

After he gave his name to the second-year, the two made their way through the crowd of cadets. New first-years, and returning second and third years all watching the eager cadets.

“I can’t believe we made it. I mean that parapet is no joke, I thought the wind was gonna take me a few times. I feel bad for whoever has to do that in that rain,” Liam said, grimacing at the sight of the rain and wind; both equally getting heavier.

Before Karina could respond, a hand grabbed her by the waist, pulling her back with tug.

“Gotcha!” the voice boomed, teasing and familiar.

Without thinking, Karina’s body reacted faster than her mind could catch up. Her fist flew instinctively, connecting with something solid—a sharp crack filled the air. She felt the jolt of the punch travel through her arm, and a grunt echoed from the person she’d struck.

The hand released her immediately, and she spun around, heart hammering in her chest, ready to face whoever had dared to sneak up on her. Her hand flying to her hip to grab the closest dagger.

But then, her eyes met the unmistakable, grinning face of her cousin, Bodhi.

“Oh gods,” she muttered under her breath, feeling the color drain from her face. “Bodhi? What are you fucking stupid?”

Bodhi stumbled back, holding a hand to his jaw where her punch had landed. “Ouch,” he groaned, though the smirk never left his face. “Was that really necessary, Karina? Ever heard of a warm welcome?”

Karina heart rate slowed as she realized who it was. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t think it was you—” She stepped forward, before pausing and narrowing her eyes. “No, you know what? I take it back. That’s what you fucking get for sneaking up on me. I swear you were fucking asking for it,” she said with a huff.

Bodhi grinned wider, rubbing his jaw with a laugh. “I’ll survive.” He winked. “But you’re quick. I forgot how fast you are. That’ll come in handy for you here,”

Before Karina could say anything else, another voice interrupted their exchange.

“Is everything alright here?” Imogen’s voice rang out, carrying over the courtyard.

Karina turned to see Imogen and Garrick walking toward them, a mix of concern and amusement in their expressions. Imogen’s sharp eyes shifted from Karina to Bodhi and back again, her lips curving up into a smirk as she took in the scene.

“I think Bodhi learned his lesson,” Imogen teased, her voice light with amusement and heavy with sarcasm.

Garrick, ever the stoic one, raised an eyebrow. “Did you really have to punch him that hard?” He asked, though she didn’t miss the amused look in his eyes.

Karina’s shrugged, “I wasn’t expecting anyone to sneak up on me, especially after just crossing that parapet. He came up to me out of no where, he’s lucky I didn’t break his nose,”

“You’ve always been so violent” Bodhi teased with a chuckle, his expression still light. “But hey, good to know Karina still has a mean left hook.”

“Clearly,” Imogen said dryly, her eyes twinkling with laughter as she glanced at Karina. “Should’ve known better than to sneak up on a Riorson.”

“Well, you should’ve seen the look on your face when I grabbed you,” Bodhi added with a laugh, now recovering from the punch, “You were ready to kill me.”

“I still might, depending on how much longer you keep running your mouth,” Karina shot back with a raised eyebrow, but there was no malice behind the words.

Gods, she missed this. Missed him. Missed them. How long had it been since she’d seen him? Too long. It all had been much too long.

Garrick’s lip quirked to a smile. “But I have to admit, you’re a sight for sore eyes, Karina. We all knew you’d make it across, but I didn’t expect the fistfight at the end.”

Karina nodded in return, her own smirk growing at Garrick’s amusement. It sent easy always pulling a smile from him before, but now after three years in the Riders Quadrant? It felt like a special reward, “It’s been too long. I’ve missed you all. I’m glad to see everyone’s in one piece,”

“Well, as in one piece, as you can get,” Bodhi said, still rubbing his jaw lightly, “You’ll have to get used to seeing us more often. This is home now.”

Karina eyes scanned the courtyard as the others fell into step around her, each of them already making plans for what would come next. Training. Drills. Threshing. Everything to grind them into perfect weapons. It was one hell of a home.

“Right..” Karina muttered before her eyes flickered out the window as the rain now was completely lashing down. Like it had waited for Liam to get across before starting its release. Her eyes darted to the parapet, just in time to see a young woman with silver hair run the last few feet of the parapet. She had turned and held it to the groin of the male behind her.

Her eyes widened a bit. The hair alone, even through it was braided, told her everything she needed to know about her.

“Is that..?”

“Yes,” Imogen huffed, her eyes narrowed down at the rather short female who had now turned to give her name to the name keeper.

“And Xaden…” “Yep,” Bodhi said with a nod, glancing to Karina, “he already has a whole plan set. I would call it cute if he didn’t already threaten me,” he said, causing Karina to shake her head with amusement.

~~~~~~~~~~ Soon enough, the last candidate crosses the parapet hours later. By now it was late afternoon and the storm passed on. The sun beat down on them now, causing the air to become humid and sticky. As they all gathered, Leadership gathered as well on the dais to call the attention of the first-years.

Commandant Panchek takes the center of the dais and his voice rings out as he begins a whole speech about how three hundred and one of them made it across. And goes into further detail about how the Codex was what they would live by, how their professors would teach them everything they needed to know, and so on.

“Riorson, Karina. Second Squad, Flame Section, Second Wing.”

Karina frowned and glanced at Liam who was already in a different squad. Her heart fell but she also knew realistically the odds of them being put together was low. They tended to try and separate the marked ones. She looked ahead of her and moved forward through the crowd. She could see Xaden from the corner of her eye on the dais watching carefully as if someone was going to come out swinging at her.

It was more comforting than the eyes and glares she received as she moved through the parting crowds. Karina stood with her head up among her squadmates. None seeming to have the same swirling black mark on their left arm like her own, but she would manage. She just has to survive until threshing.

So she stood in place. Behind who she knew was Violet and her friend, a pretty dark skinned girl. More names were called. And soon enough cadets surrounded her making up her squad, and then her section, and then her wing.

The tall boy with light brown hair and freckles long his face to the right of her was the first to break the silence, “Hey, so… guess we’re all in this together now,” he said, offering a kind smile, his eyes flickered over the group. “I’m Sawyer,”

Karina’s eyes landed on Violet Sorrengail, who was standing beside the other girl, her posture tense, arms crossed over her chest as if bracing for impact. She hesitated as she glanced over her shoulder at Sawyer before say, her gaze darting from Karina to Xaden before finally settling back on Karina.

Karina caught the hesitation and couldn’t help but smirk. “Don’t worry, Sorrengail,” she teased, voice light with amusement. “You’re my brother’s problem. My issue is with your mom, so don’t sweat it.”

Violet blinked, then exhaled sharply in what might’ve been a half-laugh, half-scoff. “Good to know, I’m…Violet,” she muttered, clearing her throat.

Beside her, the taller girl still looked wary, shifting slightly in place, “I’m Rhiannon,” she said, glancing hesitantly over Karina. But before she could say anything else, the shorter dark haired guy to the left of Karina leaned in with a dramatic whisper. “You look like you’re about to bolt. What, scared of a little Riorson?”

Rhiannon shot him a look, but the tension in her shoulders eased just a fraction. “I’m not scared,” she shot back, lips twitching. “Just… cautious.”

The guy grinned. “Uh-huh. Sure.” He looked over the group before looking Karina up and down with a smirk, “I’m Ridoc. You’ll need to know the same for later,”

Karina rolled her eyes and chuckled, “yeah good luck with that,”

She then took a moment to have a look over the mismatched group that was now her squad. They weren’t a team. Not yet, at least. She could still see the distrust in their postures. But Sawyer seemed to be the most open to her, which was good at least.

They continued to read off all the names until all three hundred and one cadets are organized into sections and squads. But then there was a pause. And Xaden moved to talk to the other Wingleaders. And her eyebrows furrow, trying to figure out what the hell her brother was trying to do.

Then after what seemed to be a rather long and heated discussion when the third year who was calling out the name nods to Xaden in a final approval and clears her throat. All the Wingleaders turn to face the cadets.

“Dain Aetos, you and your squad will switch with Aura Beinhaven’s,” she announced as she scripted something down on the parchment. All the cadets seemed to share a look amongst themselves. But their squad leader, Dain Aetos, seemed to just accept the orders. No questions asked.

“Follow me,” was all Aetos said as the squad erupted in mourners. Though they followed Aetos to their new position in Fourth wing. Karina narrowed her eyes, darting around before she smirked in realization.

No fucking way.

Xaden had moved them to his wing. With Bodhi. Imogen. Garrick. Her family. A section and squad full of marked ones. Looking in front of her, she could see the moment Violet had the realization too. Karina couldn’t help but find it amusing. But she made a mental note on asking Xaden why he had done it in the first place; not that she was complaining.

As the sections seemed to settle down into their official spots, Xaden then took to the center of the dais. Folding his arms over his chest as he looks over the hundreds of cadets littering the courtyard now in organized lines. And Karina could see how his eyes were analyzing each and every one of them. As if he could see right through each one of them.

“You’re all cadets now,” he started, his voice booming across the courtyard, “yeah I’m sure you feel pretty badass now huh? Feeling pretty unstoppable, first-years?” He asks as the applause of the first-years fill the air, cheers and cocky woos.

But Karina didn’t, remaining still. She knew her brother. He wasn’t one to just praise a bunch of fresh cadets for walking across the bridge. It was a set up. And it seemed she was right. Because the next thing she knew, wing beats, filled the air. And dragons started to land amongst the masonry on the top of the walls.

Beautiful creatures.

A red, a few greens, and a stunning blue.

Their massive forms looming over them, their shadows casting and blocking out the sun. Screams filled the air. And a cadet runs. The red dragon seems to make an example and with a breath of fire, turns the cadet to ash. Two more cadets run from this. And then two more are dead.

What idiots.

The blue dragon turns its head towards directly at Karina. Tilting its head slightly, but those golden eyes threatening, but almost curious. She let out a huff of steam through her nostrils before turning her attention back to the rest of the crowd.

Sgaeyl.

That had to have been Xaden’s dragon. She was just like what he had told her briefly in his letters. But words didn’t do her justice for how she looked in person. Let alone the massive size. Beautiful. But fucking terrifying.

After everything seemed to settle down again, Xaden looked over the crowd again with a rather bored expression on his face. “Anyone else change their mind? No?” He asked as he paused, “Good. Roughly half of you will be dead this time next year. A third after that. Here, no one cares who your parents are. King, noble, merchant, farmer, general. Here, you’re on your own,” he adds a bit too pointedly, his eyes landing on Violet.

“Tell me now if you still feel elite. Tell me if you still feel unstoppable. Untouchable,” a roar of fire blows over them from the blue dragon—Sgaeyl.

“Because you are not special, or valuable, or untouchable, to them,” Xaden continued, pointing to Sgaeyl. “To them? You’re replaceable. And at the very bottom of their food chain.” He finished scanning the crowd with an intimidating smirk.

“Welcome to the Riders Quadrant, first-years.”

85 notes · View notes

saintsanddevils · 2 months ago

Text

Never Alone - pt 5

Aaric Graycastle x Fem!Reader

Summary: Tension runs high with you and Aaric having to deal with mated dragons.

Warnings: ‼️18+ (MDNI) explicit content‼️, slight smut👀, angst, reader is in denial, Aaric is suffering, slow burn is finally burning

Word Count: 5.8K

Part Four | Part Six

Masterlist

————

-Bound-

(Aaric POV)

“Cam,” she moans against the skin of his collarbone.

Aaric thrusts forward, bottoming out inside of her. He throws his head back in rapture. She’s tight, so tight. It feels incredible. He needs more.

“Hold on, love.”

He pulls out only to slam back into her. She gasps, clawing at his back.

“Please,” she cries out as he does it again. And again. And again.

Aaric bends forward, nipping at her ear as he whispers, “Please, what? Tell me what to do, Y/N. I’ll do anything you want.”

Her breath hitches, as he pumps faster and faster, feeling how soaked she’s getting with each thrust.

His fingers find her clit, circling and teasing as her breaths pick up speed. He feels her racing pulse against his lips as he kisses down her sweat-slicked skin.

“Keep doing that,” she pants, her voice hoarse. “Keep touching me.”

Aaric smirks against her neck. “Anything for you, love.”

When he syncs his fingers with his thrusts, he feels her pussy beginning to tighten around his cock. He closes his eyes at the glorious feel of her coming close to the edge. With the mounting pressure at the base of his spine, he can tell he’s almost there, reaching his peak.

“Cam,” she gasps and moans, her eyes fluttering to meet his. Something shines in her eyes as she stares up at him.

A flood of adoration fills him as he gazes down at her. She’s so beautiful. And right now, she’s all his.

“Cam, I love—“

A loud crash has Aaric shooting up from his bed, panting. The darkness of his room greets him as his pulse races loudly in his ears. He looks around in a panic before he sees he’s entirely alone.

Y/N isn’t here.

It was a dream.

“Fuck,” Aaric groans, throwing himself back onto the mattress. His pillows had fallen off the bed while he tossed and turned. One of them colliding with the clock next to his bedside, causing it to crash to the floor.

Frustration and guilt gnaw at him as the dream still clings to his thoughts. The way she moaned and sighed his name. Her cheeks flushed. Her skin as soft as he imagines it to be.

The straining of his cock in his briefs has him shifting, adjusting to make it less uncomfortable. But the dream won’t let him go so easily. He’s incredibly hard, almost to the point of pain. He knows this will be a problem later on if he doesn’t deal with it soon.

Glancing at the darkened windows, he knows he has plenty of time before he’s expected to get up.

The whisper of Y/N’s moans echoes in his mind like a siren call as he slides his hand into his briefs. Gripping himself, he focuses on the dream, trying to imagine it’s real. The way her back arched. How her mouth gaped and widened. Her pupils dilating as he circled her clit. Her nipples turning into sharp peaks in the soft lighting of his dream.

Aaric groans, his hand sliding up and down his shaft, remembering how real it felt to be inside of her. How she fluttered around him, tightening and releasing him just so.

It’s agonizing remembering the dream so vividly and not feeling her this very moment. Not being able to kiss the skin of her collarbone before finding his way to her breasts. Sucking, licking, biting. His imagination of her body and what he would do to please her has run wild for so long, his hunger for her has become ravenous.

Aaric’s movements become frantic, chasing that high as a bead of precum spills from his tip. Her name chants in his mind as he imagines the feel of her lips against his. Would she be soft, like her skin? Or rough and passionate from wanting him for so long? He knows he’d take his time. He’d memorize every curve, dip, and valley of her body. Every sound she makes when she—

Her name flows from his lips like a prayer as he spills onto the sheets. Moans fill his room as he finishes.

When his cock softens and the throbbing dissipates, an ache settles in his chest. The familiar taste of guilt floods him as he slowly comes back to the present.

This isn’t the first time this has happened. And deep in his bones, he knows it won’t be the last. His body and mind both yearn for her. Being close to her, staying friends, it’s not enough for him.

Frustration racks up his spine as he shifts to stand, tearing the sheets from his bed as he goes. He’s folding the linens when that familiar, deep rumbling presence enters his mind.

Oh fuck. Not now.

“Will this be a common occurrence that will wake me from my slumber?” Molvic grumbles, his voice full of obvious annoyance. “I would prefer not to be present during such private…mortal weaknesses.”

Aaric winces, embarrassment flooding him. I didn’t mean to wake you—

“I know. That is obvious, Princeling.”

Aaric takes deep breaths as he throws the dirty sheets into a basket before grabbing new ones and making his bed.

As much as Aaric hopes he’ll sever their connection, Molvic stays.

“Your frustration with your mate is exhausting. If you wish to be with her, be with her. This is trivial.”

Aaric tenses. Like I’ve said before, she’s not my mate.

A pause. “Your emotions tell me otherwise.”

That doesn’t mean she’s my mate.

It’s as if he can feel the dragon roll his eyes while he quickly dresses into his loose training gear. There’s no way he’ll be able to sleep after that dream. Especially not after Molvic’s chastising.

If he can’t get any sleep, he’s going to take this time to burn off the excess energy in his body to forget everything that just happened.

If Molvic will even let him.

“Human mates are strange. You never communicate. It’s truly unnecessary.” A deep sigh rattles through his mind. “You make this more difficult for yourself.”

Irritation begins to bloom inside of Aaric as he bends to tie his boots. She is my friend, Molvic. Nothing more.

“Then move on.”

Aaric freezes, his laces gripped tightly in his fingers. A flash of her smile, her laughter, chokes him. He recalls the many times he watched her over the pages of a book while she thought he was busy reading. The way the sunlight would catch her skin, gilding her. How her eyes would sparkle as she absorbed whatever story she was consumed by. Her cheeks flushing as she bit her lip to stifle a laugh.

The ache in his chest is consuming now. An emptiness hollowing him at the thought of never being able to love her.

Because Aaric does. He loves her. He loves her with every breath of his lungs. Every fiber of his being, every beat of his heart, yearns for her to be his.

He’s never known when he fell for her, only that it was gradual and permanent. Something that settled in him like knowing the sky is blue and that she’s the epitome of love.

Aaric has always loved her and he always will.

With a sigh of defeat, he confesses, I can’t move on. I don’t think I ever will.

“Then stop denying yourself.” What sounds like a yawn fills his head as Molvic’s voice begins to slowly fade. “It only burdens you.”

Aaric stares at the wood of his door, his hand gripping the brass handle. This morning wasn’t the only time he’s thought of her in his bed, under his skin. The dreams have gotten worse since she forgave him for being overprotective months ago. Having her here, so close to him, makes it all the more painful to keep his feelings at bay.

So, he dreams. He hopes. He imagines what life would be like if they were together. If they weren’t thrown into the middle of a war. If they lived at the end of all this.

If she was mine.

It’s an intoxicating thought, but he can’t help himself. If she were his, he’d never let her go.

————

(Reader POV)

Where the hell is she?

My legs ache from pacing back and forth in the quadrant’s library. Violet is thirty minutes late, and I feel like I’m going to go crazy if she doesn’t show up any second.

Dim, morning light filters through the tall, arched windows, casting hazy shadows across the stone floor. The windows overlook the valley below Basgiath, where two weeks ago, I was fighting for my life to bond with a dragon. The branches are full of golden and red-hued leaves. This morning is beautiful, peaceful. Especially since a sudden frost settled over the valley during the night. It coats the windows, causing me to shiver, my skin prickling.

The beauty rivals my tempestuous emotions. It’s been over two weeks since Kesi and I bonded. The bond itself warms my being, but it’s the mating bond that has me pacing.

Two weeks ago, while everyone who bonded a dragon was celebrating after Threshing, I stole away to find Violet. Once I tracked her down, I found her talking with Rhiannon.

“Hey Vi,” I slipped into their conversation, not even caring I’d interrupted. “I need to talk to you.”

Concern etched itself across her features as she turned to me. “Is everything alright?” She lowered her voice, whispering, “Is it something to do with Aaric?”

“Yes and no,” I winced.

Understanding had lit her eyes as she turned to Rhiannon. “I promise I’ll find you later, okay?”

My squad leader nodded before disappearing down the hall.

Once she was out of sight, Violet stepped closer. “Did he find out how you feel about him? How you’re in lo—“

“No!” I rushed, terror striking me. “No, he doesn’t…” I breathed deeply as I tried to calm my racing heart. “It’s not about that.”

Violet’s brows furrowed as she shook her head. “I’m sorry for assuming. I just thought after all this time—“

“Our dragons are mates.”

Violet’s jaw dropped as silence encased our corner of the empty hall. Distantly, I could hear music and voices still celebrating.

”Holy shit,” Violet stared at me. “Mates?”

I nodded. “I need to know what to expect, Vi. I’ve heard it can be…difficult.”

Violet winced. “It can be, at least parts of it.” She sighed. “I can tell you what to expect, but I’m worried—“

Xaden Riorson appeared over her shoulder. As if sensing him, Violet turned around, her features softening.

“Excuse me,” Xaden spoke to me, but his eyes were on Violet. “But Violet, I need you to see this,” his face was grave as he quickly took Violet by the hand, guiding her down the hall.

She had turned back to me, an apology in her eyes as she followed. It wasn’t until later that she sent me a letter informing me she wanted to talk as soon as possible. Alone.

Well, the time finally came. It took weeks, but now, I’ll get my answers. If Violet ever shows up.

As if I summoned her with my thoughts, she appears, rounding the side of a bookcase.

“Y/N,” Violet rushes to hug me, slightly out of breath. “I’m sorry, life’s been so busy lately. I wanted to talk to you as soon as possible.”

Relief washes over me from the sight of her. I quickly motion for her to sit down at a table with me. “I get it, you’re a second year. You have better things to do than worry about a first-year problem.”

She shakes her head. “No, I’m happy to help. Especially when it comes to this.”

Violet throws her pack on the table, taking out a leather-bound tome that’s definitely from the archives.

“I grabbed this to help you with anything you don’t understand. It helped me a lot last year when I found out about Tairn and Sgaeyl.” She places the tome on the table before turning to me. “Have you talked to Kesi about it?”

A rumbling huff sounds in my mind, announcing Kesi’s presence.

“You need not worry about this.”

I clench my hands into fists. Nothing you’ve said has been reassuring.

“Molvic is my mate. This should not be a problem for you.”

Deflating, I soften my tone. It’s not a problem. I just want to understand how this affects me and Aaric. No one has told me what to expect.

“I have told you all I can.”

Ignoring her, I nod to Violet. “She’s not told me enough to reassure me.”

Violet grips my hand, her fingers soft and familiar. I smile at the gesture, missing having my friend around more often.

“I get it, trust me,” she huffs a laugh. Squeezing my hand, her hazel eyes meet mine. “First thing you need to know, the bond you have with Kesi? It now extends to Molvic and Aaric. You can communicate with them like you can communicate with Kesi. It’s…strange, at first,” a blush rises to her cheeks that has me raising a brow. “But you’ll adjust to it. You can easily shut them out the more you learn to shield.”

I nod, remembering all the lessons over the last two weeks on shielding. Picturing the library in the palace has helped me visualize my bond with Kesi. It’s the one place I’ve felt completely at home and comfortable, with Aaric at my side. The image of the marble pillars, towering white bookcases, the painted fresco of the gods and dragons decorating the ceiling, rows and rows of rare tomes— it settles the roaring thoughts of my racing mind.

I sit there, closing my eyes, and search my palace library, finding a solid door near Kesi’s. Hers is encased in light, warming me to the bone when I touch its surface. While this one is cold and burning, a blue haze covers the surface when I near it. This is definitely Molvic’s connection to me. I hope I never have to use it.

When I search my library again, I find another door. This one, unlike the dragon’s doors with obvious traces of imposing power, is simple, familiar. Its wooden frame is carved with images of a cabin and lake. It’s the one place Aaric and I would escape to during the winter to be away from court. This is definitely Aaric’s connection to me.

I open my eyes, finding Violet watching me with that scribe-like curiosity. “So, I can communicate with Aaric? Mind to mind?”

Violet nods. “It’s honestly more helpful than you think, but he won’t always be in your head.”

The thought of him even being there briefly has me slightly panicking. What if he sees or hears something he shouldn’t?

An even worse thought comes to me. What if he hears my unfiltered thoughts about my feelings for him? Would he hear every dirty thought I have when I watch him shirtless on the mat? How his straining, sweat-slicked muscles have me clenching my legs together, imagining him holding me down in his bed? Or how I wake most mornings, aching to be in his arms, wanting him inside of me?

A blush rises to my cheeks. Gods, this is awful.

“You’re being dramatic.”

I ignore Kesi, moving on. “Okay, so I can talk to him and Molvic. Got it. Is there anything else I should know or be aware of?”

Violet’s blush reaches up her neck, causing alarm to rise inside of me.

“Well, it can get…complicated,” she winces. “I mean, when Kesi and Molvic are together, it can lead you and Aaric to become…overwhelmed.”

I furrow my brows. “Overwhelmed?”

She slowly nods before scooting closer to whisper, “I know you care for him, but however you feel strongly for Cam, it’ll be incredibly heightened when Kesi and Molvic can’t shut you out during their own heightened emotions.”

I blanch. “You mean when they mate, I’ll want to jump Aaric’s bones?”

Violet squeezes my hand again, trying to reassure me. “I’ve known you for too long to lie to you. It’s going to be really hard to hide how you feel from him. I’m doing this to warn you of what will come.”

Truly, I appreciate what she’s doing. She went through it herself with Xaden, and now look at them, they’re inseparable and incredibly in love. I can picture them having a future together with how happy he makes her.

“Thanks, Vi,” I squeeze her hand. “You’d think after all these years, I’d let go of my feelings for him and move on,” I laugh bitterly.

Violet shakes her head. “Maybe this is a sign that you should tell him. Your dragons being mates feels like this was meant to be. Maybe it’ll work out.”

“And if I lose his friendship and he pushes me away? What then?” I stare out the frosted windows, an ache creeping up my limbs and burrowing in my chest. “I’d rather he be my friend than ruin anything between us.”

Burning fills my eyes as the overwhelming sense of loss fills me. If I can’t have Aaric for my own, I still want him in my life. No matter how much it hurts.

“Thanks for your help,” I try to smile, but the aching in my chest is hollowing me out. I’ll start crying if I don’t get out of here soon enough.

Violet stops me as I try to get up. “One more thing,” her face is gravely serious as she meets my eye. The soft encouragement from before is gone. “Did Kesi happen to tell you the consequences of a mating bond with two bonded riders?”

I slowly shake my head no.

She closes her eyes before breathing deeply. “I’m not going to sugarcoat this, but you and Aaric are bound now.”

“Bound?”

Her hazel eyes open, burning into mine. “If somehow, someway, he dies, then you die. If you die,” she swallows. “He dies, too.”

“Y/N!”

I shoot out of my chair, stumbling to my feet at the sound of Kesi’s ringing shout.

“Hey, you alright?” Violet reaches out, but my head is pounding hard, heart beating rapidly. I feel a surge of panic crash through me, and it’s startling.

What’s wrong?

“Get to the gymnasium. Now.”

The gym? What?

Did something—

“Your foolish prince is trying to get himself killed.”

————

I burst through the gym doors, breaths sawing through me from running down the many flights of stairs to get here. A crowd is gathered around the mats, sounds of yelling filling the cavernous hall. Violet sticks close behind me as I shove my way forward.

“If he dies, you die. If you die, he dies.”

Violet’s words vibrate through me as I move through the crowd.

Please be alive, please be alive, please—

When we finally reach the front, my stomach drops. Aaric is lying on the mat looking half dead. Blood drips down his face from a cut on his forehead. Sweat soaks his shirt as he stumbles to his feet.

Swaying, he stares down his opponent. I’ve never seen this guy before, but he’s huge. Larger than Aaric, and he looks incredibly pissed off. His knuckles are cracked and bleeding, his lip swollen as bruising lines his jaw.

But Aaric looks far worse. It’s this fact that has me panicking. Aaric’s losing this fight. He doesn’t lose unless he wants to.

“AARIC!”

My shout is lost in the commotion of the crowd as Aaric bounces on his toes, swinging at the other man. He easily evades it before punching Aaric in the stomach. The prince stumbles before spitting blood on the mat. His smile is all bloody teeth as he lunges forward.

Dain comes into view, his face pale as he watches with everyone else.

I run to him, panic lacing my voice as I shout, “Do something!”

Dain shakes his head. “I tried. I really did. He only tried to fight me, but I wouldn’t do it.” He turns his head and I can see slight bruising lining his cheekbone.

“Something’s very wrong,” I whisper, mostly to myself.

Dain nods. “He’s either drunk or super pissed off.”

I shake my head. No, Aaric isn’t like that. He’s logical, first and foremost. Everything he does is within reason. He’s calculated and cautious. He would never do this to bring attention to himself. He’s been trying to lay low for months.

So, what set him off?

My gaze returns to Aaric, who’s caught around his middle and thrown to the mat. His opponent straddles him and begins punching his face. Aaric doesn’t even protect himself. He just lays there…almost like he wants it to happen.

If he won’t end it, I will.

I clench my fists, grinding my teeth as I surge forward. Dain’s arm shoots out to grab me, but I step out of his reach.

Running onto the mat, I use all my strength as I collide with the brute on top of Aaric. The momentum throws him off of Aaric’s bruised and bleeding body, crashing to the mat with me on top of him. He looks up, stunned. When his eyes narrow, I roll off of him and stand with my feet apart and fists raised.

I hear Aaric cough my name, but I don’t turn around.

“He’s done,” I say, my voice lethal and cold. “You should be done, too.”

The guy hacks a wad of spit onto the mat inches from my boots. “He’s done when I say he’s done.”

Fury courses through my veins like a cold fire, an icy pull to kill, eliminate, and protect pulling me under. But I don’t give in. I can tell this is part of Kesi’s emotions bleeding into my own. But I tap into it, using it as a weapon.

“This is how this is going to go,” I growl. “You’re going to let me take him to a healer. And you’re going to stay the fuck away from him. Got it?”

His eyes furrow as he appraises me from head to toe. “I don’t need to take orders from his girlfriend.”

“I’m not asking.”

A strange surge of control comes over me. I’m highly aware of every part of my body, every movement of my chest as my breathing slows. I stare down at him, standing in front of Aaric.

It feels like lightning courses through my veins as I command, “Leave. Now.”

Without a second thought, he pulls himself to his feet, glancing at Aaric before turning around and forcing his way through the crowd.

The burning in my body fades just as soon as it arrives. My energy is draining as a pounding headache replaces that surge of calculated fury. I try to shake it off, turning to Aaric. He’s coughing and wheezing as I fall to my knees.

“Cam?” I whisper, my hand lightly touching his bruising cheek.

He turns into the touch, eyes closed as a groan escapes him. “Y/N?” His skin feels feverish and sticky as he moans into my hand, “I missed you.”

He’s delirious, that’s for certain, but his words set off butterflies in my stomach, warmth spreading through me. My eyes burn as I survey his swollen, bleeding face.

Violet is there, kneeling beside me. “We need to get him to a healer.”

I nod as Dain begins shouting to get everyone else to leave. He’s suddenly beside us, kneeling to pick up Aaric.

“Can you walk?” He asks.

Aaric’s head rolls as he looks up at him, blood dripping from his mouth onto the mat. “Oh hi, Dain.”

Dain swears under his breath before standing with Aaric. “I think he has a bad concussion.”

Aaric’s head swerves and finds me, a smile breaking out across his face. “Hey there, gorgeous.”

I would’ve laughed if his eyes didn’t immediately close after speaking. Dain slaps him across the face. It jolts him awake, his swollen eyes wide with alarm.

“What the fuck?!”

Dain huffs as he carries him from the gym. “You need to stay awake, you bastard, or I’m dropping you down the stairs. Gods, you’re heavy.”

Aaric glares at him before his eyes meet mine over Dain’s shoulder. Blood drips down the side of his head as he stares at me. I reach out and smooth back his hair before it gets more blood in it.

“You fucking idiot,” I whisper as tears threaten to fall. “We’re taking you to the healers. If you didn’t break anything, I’m breaking your jaw later for this.”

Aaric coughs a laugh before groaning as his body shifts in Dain’s arms once we’re in the hall.

“Don’t let my father find out,” he hisses to Dain.

He scoffs. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Cam.”

————

(Aaric POV)

When Aaric wakes, he finds Y/N sitting next to his bed, biting her lip as she grips his hand. Sheets tuck him into the bed as the sun sets, streaming fractures of light across the room through the arched windows.

A headache pounds against his head as he slowly shifts. On instinct, he tightens his fingers around hers, causing her to jump in her seat.

Her eyes whip to his, wide and tear-stained. “You’re awake.”

It must’ve been hours since Dain dragged Aaric into the healer’s room. Halfway up the stairs, he practically threw the prince to the stone before making him walk. Sienna had yelled at Dain for being a prick and at Aaric for being a moron for getting himself into this mess. They both hooked themselves beneath his shoulders and helped carry him the rest of the way up the stairs.

He barely remembers any of it. Only the feel of stiff sheets beneath him and the smell of something acidic and medicinal before blacking out.

“Hi,” he rasps, voice scratchy from disuse. Sharp pain lingers around his ribs, making him wince. “How long was I out?”

Y/N tightens her grip on his hand. “Almost ten hours, give or take?”

He huffs a laugh before immediately coughing. She’s there with water in her hands, helping him drink. The cool liquid wakes him further, clearing his mind.

“Fuck,” he winces as he tries to shift in bed to sit up. “Everything hurts.”

She rolls her eyes. “I wonder why.”

He scowls at the ceiling before attempting to raise himself again, breathing heavily from the movement.

“Stop that or you’ll make everything worse,” she scolds him, moving to stand.

Aaric rolls his eyes. “I’m fine. There’s enough drugs in my system to keep the pain at bay,” he hisses as sharp pain hits him again in the ribs. “Or at least I think so.”

She glowers down at him. “You’re such an idiot. What were you thinking earlier? Were you trying to get yourself killed?”

He tenses. That morning, after he tried to run off all the pent-up energy and desire he felt upon waking earlier, guilt still gnawed at him. He couldn’t believe how horrible of a friend he was for imagining her like that. She didn’t want that. She deserved better than that from such a close friend.

His head was so caught up in this that while he was swinging at a punching bag, he felt someone approach him from behind. They tried to taunt him, test him, get him riled up. Without thinking, with frustration rising inside of him, he turned and threw a punch at the guy. It quickly turned out to be a mistake, but when he got caught up in a fight with the brutish cadet, it felt liberating. Something he could control. And as each punch landed on his body, he knew he deserved it. He allowed it to happen.

Jaw clenched, Aaric doesn’t say anything as his best friend continues to fume. What can he say to her? “Hey, I’m sick and tired of being your friend and it’s slowly eating me alive?”

No. He couldn’t say that.

“Look,” Y/N sighs. “I know you. I know how you fight and what happened earlier was you punishing yourself for something.”

His fists clench, eyes trying not to meet hers as he feels her sympathetic gaze.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“What happened earlier is not nothing. You had broken ribs and a shattered cheekbone. Not even to mention your concussion! It took hours for them to heal you, and I never left, so don’t you get to say it’s nothing when it obviously wasn’t.”

Her voice breaks as she speaks, and Aaric finally looks at her. Tears brim her eyes. Fear and worry lining her features. His heart softens and aches at the sight.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “You’re right. It wasn’t nothing.” He sighs. “I…I was frustrated and angry. He just happened to be there. I needed to blow off some steam. That’s all.”

She doesn’t buy it, he can tell, but her shoulders loosen. “I’m getting real sick of these suicidal heroic tendencies of yours.”

He snorts. “Yeah, me too.”

This cracks her. She smiles gently. Aaric smiles back, only for his head to sting, causing him to wince.

She surges forward. “Shit, your stitches.”

She picks up a cloth lying on the bedside table before moving towards him. Her fingers are gentle, careful, as she smooths the cloth over his forehead. She’s close enough to breathe in the scent of her. Aaric can’t resist. He closes his eyes, breathing deeply. Lilac and citrus.

Memories of home rise to the forefront of his mind. Laughter ringing out over a pan of burned muffins. Shared smiles as his older brother, Halden, stomps off to sulk. Fingers tangled together as both Y/N and himself ready to jump into a pond brimming with water lilies and cattails.

Nostalgia grips him by the throat, and he tries to swallow it down. Everything about her, all that she is, is home for him.

Looking up at her, watching as she concentrates on her task, he feels a wave of affection crash over him.

Later, he’ll blame the drugs flowing through his system, numbing his usual restraint. But for now, he allows his hands to slide across her waist, pulling her closer.

Her breath catches, hand freezing on his forehead as her eyes meet his. He sees a question in her gaze, and something lighter. Something that must be reflected in his own as his fingers slowly pull up the material of her shirt. Just enough for his fingers to settle upon her skin, thumbs caressing her waist in slow circles.

Her pupils dilate as she holds his stare, breath increasing. He can feel her pulse through her skin, racing as fast as his own as he stares up at her through his lashes.

“Is this okay?” His voice is husky, full of need.

She swallows, his eyes tracking the movement, suddenly enraptured by the exposed skin of her neck.

“Y-yes,” she stammers. “It’s okay.”

He leans closer, her lips inches from his as he breathes her in. His fingers move to wrap around her back, caressing the base of her spine as he continues to draw slow, methodical circles into her skin.

“Is this?”

She nods, her eyes fluttering as his fingers softly trace the curves of her skin. Cloth forgotten, she allows it to fall to the bed, her hands tangling in his waves. The way she softly pulls on his hair has a moan rising from his mouth. The movement causes their lower lips to brush, lightning coursing through his veins at the sensation. A gasp falls from her mouth at the contact, her fingers pulling him closer.

“Cam,” she breathes, her voice full of want.

Flashes to this morning, to how he woke without her in his bed, makes him ache to take her there now. To show her exactly what he’s wanted to do to her for years.

Fuck, I want to kiss you so badly.

Y/N freezes. Her eyes widening before she pulls back from him. He starts to tug her back to him, not wanting to let her go, when she stops him with a hand on his bare chest.

“I heard you.”

Aaric furrows his brows, his entire being focused on the shape of her lips. “What?”

“Aaric,” she insists. She forces him to look at her, and her eyes soften for a moment. She sighs before closing her eyes, as if she’s concentrating.

“I want to kiss you, too.”

Her voice suddenly rings loud and clear in his head, startling him. His jaw hangs open as he stares.

Holy shit.

She smirks. “Violet told me about how the mating bond connects us. And I think because of your…lowered inhibitions,” her eyes sparkle as she leans closer. “Your shields let me in, allowing me to hear your thoughts just now.”

Well, fuck.

Y/N laughs, the sound lighting every nerve in his body. “It’s freaky, right?”

Aaric shakes his head. “What if I like hearing your voice in my head?”

She bites her lip, a flush rising to her cheeks. Gods, he wants her. He wants to kiss the hell out of that mouth, taste every bit of her. He wants to take his time before he moves his lips down her neck, taunting her, as he opens the buttons on her shirt, exposing her skin—

“Graycastle,” a voice startles them both, forcing Y/N to spring away from him. They both turn to find an aged healer standing there with a firm expression. “This is not the time or place for such fraternizing. Please refrain yourselves as you are not the only ones in the room.”

Aaric’s pulse races in his ears as he turns back to his best friend, whose face is bright red, eyes bulging as she stares at the floor, her mouth pinched to keep herself from smiling. He can’t help his own from spreading across his face. A strange giddiness fills him as her eyes slowly meet his.

She wants to kiss me.

The thought emboldens him, even as the healer shoos Y/N away from his cot. He catches her stare as she leaves.

Will you be back?

She tucks a piece of hair behind her ears before giving him a small smile at the doorway. “Is this a stupid question, or are you still concussed?”

Aaric’s smile is still wide even after Y/N disappears. Long after the healer checks his bandages and leaves. When the lights go out for curfew, he notices the lingering scent of her, clinging to the air around him. Lilac and citrus.

Just as he succumbs to sleep, he swears he overhears Molvic grumble in his mind. One word. “Finally.”

Part Six

————

Taglist: @bookishnerd1132 @abysshaven @annthepenguin @lynnieluvsu @louzello @jinx108 @lustrz-anna @worldsanna @wolfbc97 @kelpyreads @lveegsoi @iambored24601 @bookishcait @marrass @serena-capella @benz12313 @-thatgirloverthere- @tenshis-cake @http-peachie @littlemissmelodie @lagrandeourse

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callsign-rogueone · 1 year ago

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by your side - b.d.

Bodhi Durran x girlfriend!reader Your friends suggest that your recent bouts of nausea might be something more, and it sends you into a spiral, but Bodhi is there for you, as always. [requested] wc: 1.1k 🏷: no spoilers this time? set toward the beginning of Iron Flame (his third year and yours). descriptions of vomit / nausea, anxiety, one (1) reference to sex. healthy established relationship between reader and Bodhi :) writing this one was fun because I know exactly how it feels (it sucks lmao)

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” Imogen says rather indelicately, patting your back as you heave into the grass at afternoon formation for the third time in three days, “but is there any way you could be…”

You blink once, twice, realizing what she’s implying, and the mere idea has your stomach turning again, but there’s nothing left in your system - you haven’t been able to keep food down for days.

“Imogen,” Sloane scolds from your other side, still holding your hair back from your face, “we agreed that now was not the time.”

You take measured sips from your waterskin, trying to rinse the acid from your throat, but the burning feeling doesn’t subside.

You look to Violet, who remains quiet as the grave.

“I agree that it’s a possibility,” she says carefully. “But either way, we’re here for you, and I know he will be too.”

Oh, gods. You hadn’t even considered having this conversation with Bodhi yet. What would you even say to him? Hey, I know we’re in military school and doing this whole double-agent-arms-dealing thing on the weekends and there’s a very real chance that neither of us will make it to next month, but I think I'm pregnant with your child?

The women you’ve come to regard as younger sisters can sense that you’re spiraling.

“He’s a good man,” Sloane says, rare praise from her, “and he loves you. You’ll find a way to get through this together, whatever it is.”

You’re too drained to argue, but that doesn’t stop the swirl of thoughts in your head.

You, Bodhi, and a child.

Maybe in another life, where the both of you hadn’t been conscripted to Basgiath, and you weren’t in mortal danger all the time… but even then, you’re barely adults yourselves, and your parents won’t be able to help you from the grave. You’d be doing this entirely on your own.

You shake the feeling off. Today is a Saturday, one that you have free. You’ve completed your assignments already. You’ll try to sleep this off, you decide, and if that still doesn’t kick it, you’ll see a healer.

Sleep comes easily with how exhausted you are, but it does not show you mercy.

Muscled arms cradle a bundle of blankets. You recognize the swirling pattern of Bodhi’s relic easily, having spent many nights tracing the black ink with your fingertips as you lay beside him in the afterglow.

There’s a soft sound of discomfort from the baby. “Shh, darling,” he soothes, rocking them gently. “We don’t want to wake your mama.”

A hand rests on his shoulder; Xaden’s. “She looks just like you,” he says quietly, a soft smile on his face.

A tiny hand peeks from the blanket, stretching to grasp Bodhi’s finger, which now bears a silver wedding ring.

You shake yourself awake, heart pounding as you move to sit up.

There’s a knock at your door. “It’s me.” Bodhi.

“Come in,” you reply weakly, and you hear the lock click — the day you had moved in, Xaden helped you ward it so that only you and Bodhi could open the door, doing the same for Bodhi’s room down the hall.

“Vi said you weren’t feeling good, so I brought you dinner,” he says gently, sitting on the side of your bed and touching a hand to your cheeks. “No fever,” he observes, kissing your forehead, and continuing to check you over for injury.

You’re going to cry. “Bo,” you say quietly, “I need to talk to you.”

“Anything, darling.” He says, ready to listen, and your heart twists hearing the same petname he’d called your daughter.

“I don’t know if it was a vision or just a dream, but…” you swallow, the words getting stuck in your throat.

Bodhi stills beside you, fearing the worst.

Your signet gives you clouded images of the future, but they usually aren’t happy sights. You’ve come to talk to him about your visions in the middle of the night many times, as distressed as you are now.

“What did you see?” He asks gently, taking your hands in his.

“You, holding a baby girl. Xaden was there, too, but I woke up before I could see anything else.”

He doesn’t follow.

“I’ve been throwing up for days, and I think… I think I might be pregnant,” you whisper, eyes brimming with tears. “I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, darling, don’t apologize.“ He pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your hairline. “I love you, and I will be by your side every step of the way in either case.”

His words of reassurance are the last straw, and you finally start to cry, your tears dampening his collar.

“I’m going to stay right here, for as long as you want me to, and then we can go see the healers, together.”

You nod against his shoulder, too exhausted to respond.

Every step of the way.

He holds your hand all the way across the bridge to the other side of the college, only letting go when a kind older woman in pale blue healer’s robes comes to take you into an exam room.

You stay quiet as she takes your pulse, listens to your heart, and goes through the motions of a physical.

“You appear to be reacting to something you’ve been eating or drinking.” She diagnoses, handing you a small paper bag with medicine to take. “This should help.”

“So I’m not…,” you trail off, and she knows exactly what you mean. She’d seen how terrified you were walking in here, hand in hand with your boyfriend, and instantly realized what you were concerned about.

“Not with child,” she confirms with a knowing smile, and a weight is lifted from your shoulders. Thank Zhinal.

Bodhi is still waiting outside. He stands as soon as he sees you, ready to draw you into a warm embrace.

“It was those damn berries,” you say, shaking your head, and he laughs, no doubt feeling the same relief as you. The rich sound soothes every nerve in your body.

He tugs you closer, wrapping you in his arms. The paper bag crinkles between you. “The moment we graduate, I’m marrying you.”

“What?” You ask, stunned.

He pulls back so he can look you in the eye.

“I thought about it while you were with the healer,” he says, as if it’s that simple, “and I decided that I want to be there for you for the rest of my life. Through all the visions, good and bad.”

You smile up at him, pure happiness flowing through you. “I love you, Bodhi Durran.”

“I love you more, darling,” he says, tucking the bag into a pocket of his flight jacket and taking your hand. “Now, I snuck you an extra piece of cake from dinner, and if you aren’t going to eat it, I will.”

You burst into laughter. Yeah, you decide. This is the man you want by your side forever.

#bodhi durran #bodhi durran x reader #fourth wing fanfic #fourth wing imagine #fourth wing reader insert #fourth wing x reader #mine

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writinginatree · 2 months ago

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This Wasn't Supposed to be About Horses

Relationship(s): Xaden Riorson & teen!sister!reader, Bodhi Durran & Garrick Tavis & teen!Riorson!reader

Summary: Finally being back home in Aretia is a lot lonelier than you thought it would be, but at least you have your horse.

Warnings: Swearing, loneliness, mentions of parental death, minor spoilers for Onyx Storm (Garrick's signet), reader is a total horse girl™. Set during Iron Flame.

Anonymous requested: I'd love to maybe see a Xaden X Sister Reader where, in a similar vein to him in 'Jealous Little Puppy' he doesn't spend time with her. Maybe he misses quite a few of her milestones where she really 'wanted' him there but he just wasn't, please?

For three days — the whole duration of the ride so far — you've been pestering the soldier babysitting you with questions, but there isn't much he will — or can — tell you.

The man had shown up at the estate where you've been fostered since the apostasy to spirit you away in the dead of night, scaring the hell out of you. The only reason you'd even trusted him enough to go with him was the letter in Xaden's handwriting he showed you, proving your brother had sent the man to collect you. But he either hadn't told him why, or given him instructions not to tell you. All he would say was that, apparently, Xaden was up to something that might anger leadership and wanted you out of their reach.

You're not even allowed to know where you're going until you get there, because knowing would endanger the whole revolution should you be captured on the way — whatever the hell that is supposed to mean.

It's on the tip of your tongue to ask What revolution? but you know you won't get an answer, so you simply add it to your mental pile of unanswered questions. A pile that is starting to get decidedly too big. Where are you going? Why are you going there? How angry will leadership be when they find out you disappeared? Won't this get the other marked kids in trouble? Or are they being taken to safety too? And why didn't Xaden come get you himself if having you out of Navarre's reach is so important?

So many questions, and so few answers.

It's not like being left out of the loop is new to you — during your father's rebellion, you'd been too young to be told much about any of what was happening, and since then, you had only twice been allowed to see your brother. You wrote letters back and forth, but since there was no knowing who might read those, Xaden diligently avoided telling you anything interesting in them. Never a single word about Navarre's lies, nothing about his goals or what he was doing beyond basic stuff about his experience at the war college. He couldn't even tell you more about those venin monster things. That those are apparently real is one of the few things you'd learned during the rebellion, thanks to eavesdropping on Xaden and Garrick.

Unfortunately, eavesdropping isn't currently an option. You hate not knowing where you're going. Aside from the prospect of getting to see your brother again, it feels a lot like you're being kidnapped.

It's only the hope to see Xaden, and the fact you're finally sitting your horse again that make this journey bearable. It's been way too long since you were allowed to simply take Gaoth for a ride, without having to worry about staying in sight of the estate, without worrying about being back in time for whatever nonsense curfew they gave you, without fear of being punished for the abundance of mud on your boots when you return. Finally, a small taste of the freedom you've longed for.

Just you, your loyal black steed, and the mountainous range of Tyrrendor.

Well — and the soldier babysitting you.

But if you look the other way, you can almost pretend he isn't there, that you're riding home after an adventurous day of playing in the woods with Xaden, like you'd done so often until Dad's rebellion threw your whole world into upheaval. Those had been good times. You had rarely been allowed to hang out with the bigger kids, but sometimes Xaden would ditch his friends to spend some time just with you. Sometimes Bodhi would tag along, too, but more often it was just the two of you and your horses, and thanks to Xaden being the big responsible brother, you had always been allowed to stay out long past sundown, bringing sandwiches or fruit for lunch and dinner and eating by a fresh mountain stream or in some cave you'd explored. He always knew the best places to go for anything; where the best trees for climbing were, which mountain lake was the best for swimming, or where some fallen trees made the perfect obstacle course to race with the horses.

You wonder if you'll ever get to go riding together again. Are dragon riders even allowed to ride horses in their off-time, or would that be insulting to his dragon? You grin when you realize you might actually get to ask him that yourself soon. Sure, your babysitter hasn't explicitly said that Xaden will be present wherever you're going, but since it was his idea to get you there, surely that means it's somewhere he has access to.

By the third day of traveling gods-know-where, the soldier is officially sick of your pestering, urging his horse into a canter to escape your questions every time you open your mouth.

"We'll be there soon," he deflects when you try to insist on being told where you're going. "Then you'll see for yourself."

But when you ask when exactly soon is, he refuses to answer again. Eventually, night falls, and you make camp under the shelter of a copse of trees. Clearly, soon does not mean today.

"When will we get there?" you ask for the thousandth time while scarfing down the stew your companion made from the provisions he carries in his saddlebags. He's decidedly better at cooking than at answering your questions. "You said soon, and yet we're still not there, so when is soon? Tomorrow? In a week? It can't be that far, right?"

Your babysitter heaves a sigh, like escorting you is the worst task he's ever been given and he's wishing he were outside the wards fighting monsters instead. You almost think that'll be the only answer you get, but he relents and gives you a tiny piece of information after all. "Tomorrow," he confirms. "Now shut up and go to sleep."

Sure enough, the area becomes more and more familiar with each hour you travel the next day. There, the river you used to swim in, and, there, Xaden's favorite hill. That tree, that's the one you climbed too high into and were too scared to come back down without Xaden's help.

Despite all the signs of nearing your home, it's not until late afternoon, when you actually see Riorson House in the distance, that you let yourself believe that's where you're going. Seeing Aretia before you — smaller than you remember, but bustling with life — has you so slack with shock you almost topple from Gaoth's back. It only lasts a second. Then you tighten your knees and adjust your grip on the reins, leaning low over your mare's neck to gallop straight for the fortress, leaving your babysitter in the dust, forgotten about. You don't care about him and his stupid secrecy anymore, don't care how what you're seeing is possible, that Aretia should be ash and rubble, nothing but scorched ruins. You're home.

People jump out of your path with startled yelps as you race straight through the town. Gaoth doesn't need any directions, as familiar with the way home as you are, so you give her free rein, merely urging her to go faster occasionally while you stare at the new houses flying past you. Some are still under construction, while others look like they might have been standing for a couple years already.

It's Aretia, and yet it's not. Some landmarks you remember from your childhood days are still there, but many are not, replaced by new buildings or simply vacant space. Gaoth finds her way through town all the same, straight toward Riorson House.

Your heart beats faster the closer you get to the fortress, pounding in time with Gaoth's hoofbeats. Only minutes later you're past the last of the houses. Almost there. The ground flies past as Riorson House grows bigger and bigger, until it's all you can see.

Gravel sprays under Gaoth's hooves as you skid into the courtyard. Coming to a halt in front of the stables, you leap to the ground and look around, feeling like you're in a dream. Home. You're actually home after all this time. It's almost too good to believe. And then you spot Xaden. You recognize him instantly, despite all the time that has passed since you last were allowed to see him. Descending the steps from the main entrance and striding across the courtyard toward you, he looks every bit the fearsome warrior. The years at Basgiath have hardened him, but you barely see the scar on his face or the swords strapped to his back. You only see your big brother.

You drop the reins — Gaoth will stay put, anyway, she's a good horse — and run at him, not slowing the slightest until you literally collide with your brother's strong frame.

He doesn't even waver under the impact, just looks down at you with a amused glint in his eyes as you wrap your arms around him. He hugs back for a moment, then pushes you back to look you over with his hands on your shoulders. Then he grins. "You still haven't learned how to live without being constantly covered in mud, huh?"

"I've been traveling for four days!" you defend yourself, though he isn't entirely wrong. You've gotten in trouble for trailing in dirt after sneaking into the stables countless times in the last month alone. As if it's your fault you're more cut out for the stables and the outdoors rather than the fancy parties the nobles who fostered you are so fond of.

"Speaking of, where'd you leave the guy who was supposed to bring you?"

"I kinda didn't wait for him when I saw Aretia. 'm sure he'll be here soon." You rub your neck, a little embarrassed of your own rashness. "His horse can't be that slow. Besides, if he'd just told me where we were headed, I could have prepared myself and maybe wouldn't have raced the rest of the way like that."

"No trouble on the way?"

"Nope."

Though you try to focus on the conversation, your eyes keep drifting. It's hard to decide what sight to focus on. Your brother, so much older and tougher and tired-looking, and actually here in front of you!; or the buildings all around you that you'd thought you'd never see again, somehow still here despite everything.

"You're staring as if you've never seen the place before," Xaden chuckles.

"I just can't believe it's still here. I thought there was nothing left of Aretia."

"There wasn't much left of the city itself," Xaden agrees. "Most of the houses are newly rebuilt. But as for Riorson House..." He shrugs. "Stone doesn't burn."

"I know that, smartass. But somehow I thought they just, you know, smashed everything they couldn't burn to rubble with their dragons."

"I guess they didn't think it worth the effort." Someone calls to him from the doorway, and Xaden nods in acknowledgement. Turning back to you he says, "Listen, I'm running late for a meeting. Your room is just as you left it. I take it you remember how to get there?"

"Duh."

"Good. Then we'll talk later, okay?"

He's already backing away, turning his back as soon as you nod.

Watching him disappear inside the house, you suddenly feel like crying. Finding out your home still exists, that Aretia has been rebuilt — or is in the process of it, anyway —, finally seeing your brother again and him just leaving you standing in the courtyard; it's all too much.

You take a deep breath and swallow the tears, turning back to Gaoth. As eager as you are to run into the house and see if everything is as you remember, to find out if Bodhi is here, too, to flop down on your bed and cry with relief — your horse comes first. It's not until she's in her stall, thoroughly groomed and happily munching on a huge portion of hay, that you give in to the wish to head inside.

When Xaden said your room was just as you had left it, you thought he simply meant your things were still there, but as it turns out, he meant it's literally as you'd left it — a fucking mess. In the hurry to evacuate before the Battle of Aretia, you'd left clothes, toys, and books strewn all over the floor, forced to take only the most essential things. The sheets hang down the side of the bed in a tangled mess, a single stuffed animal you'd left behind looking terribly lonely in it's place beside the crumpled pillow. The closet doors are open, its contents spilling out onto a drawer lying turned over on the floor. And on top of it all, a thick layer of dust.

Clearly, no one has entered the room since the rebellion.

You're not sure what you expected. Not for someone else to have cleaned up your mess, no, but you would have thought some preparations would have been made for your return at least.

You slide off your rucksack, letting it thump to the floor by the door. A cloud of dust flies up from the carpet and makes you sneeze.

Tidying all this up is going to be a pain in the ass, so you decide it will have to wait until you've had dinner. But before you head back downstairs to eat, you cross to the window, opening it in hopes the wind will take care of some of the dust in the meantime. Unlikely, but it's worth a try. A faint smell of smoke lingers in the curtains, so you make a mental note to take them down and wash them later.

You cross to your bathing chamber — kicking up more dust with every step — to at least wash your hands. The chaos isn't as bad in there, but the dust seems even thicker, and cobwebs hang from the bathtub's faucet.

Later. You'll deal with all of that later.

On the stairs, you run into Garrick and Bodhi, talking to some other riders. Garrick spots you first, and nudges your cousin. "Look who's here."

A smile lights up Bodhi's face at the sight of you. He pulls you into a hug, and you instantly feel a little more welcome. So what if Xaden barely had time to greet you and no one bothered to check what state your room is in? They can't think of everything.

While you bask in Bodhi's warmth, Garrick takes it upon himself to introduce you to their friends. "Everybody meet the little mud-monster, otherwise known as Y/N Riorson."

"I'm not little anymore," you grouse as you step back from Bodhi's hug, though standing between this bunch of black-clad, muscle-packed fighters sure makes it feel like you are.

"No?" Garrick taunts, and steps closer, propping his elbow up on your head to show off how much taller he is. "Should we start calling you the big mud-monster, then?"

"No! Fuck you!"

Garrick pretends he didn't hear, and Bodhi grins. "Want to come have dinner with us, little mud-monster?" he asks.

You sigh in defeat. There's no getting rid of that childhood nickname the boys had assigned you after a much younger and wilder Gaoth had thrown you off in a field and you'd returned home covered in mud from head to foot. "Yes. I'm starving."

Bodhi chuckles. "We can't have that. Come on, let's get some food into you."

Xaden is late for dinner, but eventually, he does come to sit beside you and joins Bodhi and Garrick in telling you about everything that's happened — though you suspect them of leaving out some details they deem too scary for you. Still, it's nice to just sit and talk with them again instead of only communicating through letters, in which they had to carefully weigh every word and could never tell you about anything that's actually happening in case the wrong person read them.

When you've all finished eating and they're about to leave to do whatever it is that riders spend their evenings doing, you remember you still need to do something about the state of your room.

"Soo, you guys have magic now, right? You, uh, couldn't maybe use it to help me clean my room? Please?"

Xaden looks torn between annoyance and amusement. "I wield shadows, Y/N, not brooms."

"Right..." You turn to Garrick. "But you control air, don't you?"

"Yeah. And?"

"And that means you could totally make some wind to blow the dust from my room."

"Seriously? You want me to use my signet to dust off your stuff?"

"Pleeease?"

"Fine," Garrick groans, "but only because I have nothing better to do right now."

"Thank you!"

When you get to your room, Garrick stops in the doorway and whistles. "Damn," he says. "What the hell happened in here?"

You shrug. "I had to pack up in a hurry the last time I was here."

"Ah, right. I forgot you haven't been back since the apostasy. I can see why you wanted help with all that dust."

You nod, glad he understands and doesn't think you're just lazy.

Garrick lifts his hands, and the air starts to move, lifting clouds of dust and blowing them out the already open window.

You stare in wide-eyed wonder, well aware how silly your fascination must seem to Garrick, but unable to hide it. It's one thing to know that the boys you grew up with are now dragon riders with magic abilities, and quite another to actually see one of them using that magic.

Done clearing the dust from the room, Garrick leans against the door frame with his arms crossed and smirks down at you. "Cool, huh?"

You can't even be annoyed by his bragging, because he's right — that was cool as fuck.

"Yeah," you say, because you know that's what he wants to hear. Then, "Can you do the bath too?"

"Sure."

He repeats the process in your bathing chamber, and just like that, not a speck of dust remains, gone in a fraction of the time it would have taken you to dust everything off by hand.

"Have fun picking your shit off the floor," Garrick says and pats you on the back as he leaves.

You grimace, wishing getting rid of the remaining chaos were as easy as clearing the dust was for Garrick. So much of it is stuff you don't need anymore — toys you're too old for, clothes you've long outgrown. For a second you imagine hurling it all out the window after the dust. It would probably feel very satisfying, but wouldn't solve the problem, so you resign to putting the things you want to keep back into their places and piling all the things you don't need anymore into a heap by the door. Surely there are some families with kids living in town. You'll go and see if any of them have use for your old things tomorrow.

The elation of being back home and reunited with what remains of your family wears off much faster than you would have ever expected.

The whole house is stuffed to the brim with riders and fliers, and as far as any of them are concerned, you're just an annoying kid constantly getting in everyone's way; nevermind that it's your damn home they've been allowed to take refuge in.

Worse, even Xaden doesn't seem to care for your presence. He has hardly spoken to you at all since you got here.

Left entirely to your own devices, you spend most of your time with the only being who is always happy to see you — Gaoth. When you're not riding, you're helping out in the stables. There aren't as many horses at Riorson House as there were in your childhood, but plenty enough that there's always something to do.

You don't know if a school is part of what's been rebuilt of Aretia, and you don't ask. No one says anything about the way you spend your days, either, so you suppose they agree there's no need to further your education.

Sometimes when you've led the horses to their pasture to graze, you sit on the fence, watching the cadets practice flight maneuvers up in the snow-heavy clouds, and think about the future. Now that the older marked ones have deserted Basgiath and are openly rebelling, you suppose you won't have to attend the war college after all when you come of age. You're not sure if you should be relieved or disappointed about that. As terrifying as the thought of riding a dragon is, it also holds a certain adventurous appeal. But when you lower your gaze from the dragons in the sky to Gaoth, grazing a few feet away, the relief definitely wins out. In the end, you'd much rather ride your horse than a dragon.

There are more pressing things to worry about than the distant possibility of whether or not you'll have to become a rider in a few years. The unusually high number of dragons in the area makes the horses nervous. Even inside the safety of the stable, most of them are jumpy, and outside, they're prone to shy and bolt.

Even Gaoth, calm and even-tempered as she normally tends to be, panics whenever she sees them, and outright refuses to go anywhere near the valley where they reside.

Maybe she senses your own unease about the scaly beasts. Because even though you don't like to admit it, it's not just the horses that are frightened by the proximity of so many dragons. The damn things are not just huge and terrifying, they also don't keep nearly as much distance to the fortress and surrounding pastures as you would like. You wouldn't mind seeing them fly far overhead, but when they're close enough to make out their sharp claws and gleaming teeth, that's when things get uncomfortable. The only time you've seen a dragon from that close before was the Calldyr executions, when Codagh set fire to your father and the other separatist officers, which is not something you like to be reminded of. Not that you could ever forget. The sight of the flames erupting from the dragon's maw and the stink of sulfur and burning flesh are etched forever into your memory, despite Xaden's best efforts to shield you from it.

Knowing that these dragons are not your enemies, that they probably won't kill you or anyone you care about, doesn't make having them around any less unsettling. And unlike you, the horses do not know that. All they know is that there are giant flying predators roaming the area, and that they do not wish to get eaten.

After a dragon sweeping down to devour a sheep right next to the horses' pasture frightens a chestnut colt so badly he ends up breaking a leg in his panic, you decide something needs to be done. You understand why the dragons are here, and that they need a lot of space, that it's not in their nature to care for the feelings of lesser creatures than themselves, but enough is enough.

Assembly meetings are open to whoever wants to attend, that's what Bodhi had told you when he explained the concept to you. Well, you do want to attend. Someone has to advocate for the poor horses, after all, and apparently, that someone will have to be you, so when the Assembly holds their next meeting, you square your shoulders and step into the chamber.

Seven heads turn to stare at you, all frowning.

You glare back, refusing to be made to feel like an intruder. You're allowed to be here.

"What do you want, girl?" asks an old man with an eye patch.

Not having had anything to do with the Assembly until now, you're not sure if they're aware of who you are. You don't care. You don't know their names, either, and intend to solve this matter so quickly you won't have to learn them.

"I have a complaint."

"A complaint," Mr. Eye-patch echoes.

"Yes. Your dragons are scaring the horses. You shouldn't let them so close to them."

One of the women scoffs at your audacity, someone else laughs.

Glancing at your brother, he gives you a disapproving look like you should have come straight to him with the problem. As if you hadn't wanted to do that! You'd meant to ask Xaden to do something about the dragons first, but every time you see him, he's too busy to talk. Bringing the issue before the Assembly seemed like the best way to get something done about it quickly.

"Let me get this straight. You're wasting our time," the older of the women says slowly, like she finds it hard to believe, "because a few horses are scared of the dragons?"

"Yes. Something needs to be done about it, preferably before one of them hurts someone in their panic."

"If it's such a big deal to you, why don't you do something about it?"

"This is me doing something about it. They're your dragons, so it's your job to make them behave."

The woman gives you an indignant look and starts to say something that will probably be along the lines of Listen here you little shit, but the other, dark-skinned old man interrupts her.

"We can't help that the horse pasture is so close to the nearest flock of sheep," he says, not unkindly. "The dragons have to eat."

"They don't have to it so close to the horses, though."

Xaden sighs. "We'll ask them to be more considerate of the horses. But it'll be up to them whether or not they listen. Dragons don't take orders from humans."

"Yes, and when they hear about this complaint they might just decide to eat one of your precious horses out of spite," the hostile woman says, a mean glint in her eyes like she's hoping for that to happen.

Your heart speeds up. Did you really make everything worse, or is she just making empty threats to be mean?

"No, they won't," Xaden interjects, leveling a murderous glare on the woman. "Stop scaring my sister."

She huffs, muttering something about kids these days under her breath, but doesn't interrupt when you dare to suggest, "Maybe you could make some kind of schedule so they only take sheep from near the horses when none are outside? And when the horses are there they get sheep from further up the mountain?"

Judging by the looks the Assembly members give each other, that's too much to ask.

"We'll consider it," the slightly younger man says. "But I'm not sure the dragons will be agreeable. They like to do what they want, when they want, where they want."

"Right. It's just—"

"Maybe," Xaden interrupts, "you could train with the horses to be less scared when they see a dragon, hm? Might come in handy, not just because of the pasture situation but in general."

The look he gives you makes clear what remains unsaid: unlike them, you have nothing better to do anyway.

You nod. You'd thought about that yourself already, but the truth is, the horses' fear of the dragons is a convenient excuse to hide your own fear behind. Looks like you'll have to work on that along with the horses.

"Sure."

"This meeting was not supposed to be about horses," Mr. Eye-patch snaps before you can say anything else. "So if that was all, we have real problems to discuss here."

You leave, taking with you the impression that most riders are just as unpleasant as their dragons.

Waking up on the morning of your birthday, a smile spreads over your face at the sight of your room. Home. For the first time in six years, you are home and will get to spend this day with your family. Okay, maybe not the whole day. Bodhi can't just ditch classes just because it's your birthday, and Xaden always has lots of stuff to do, too, but getting to see them at all is gift enough.

You jump out of bed, so eager to start the day you only throw a jacket over your pajamas and slip into your boots. Getting changed can wait until after you've feed Gaoth. Then you'll have breakfast with the guys, and—

Your smile falls when you open the door and see the plate of cake waiting for you, a piece of paper folded into a card beside it. You open it and read.

Happy Birthday, little mud-monster! I'm sorry I can't be there — something came up, and I have to leave without delay. I'll be back soon. In the meantime, there's a surprise for you in the stables. Love, X.

The paper crumples in your fist, its edges digging into your skin, but you barely feel it, too focused on keeping the tears at bay. You refuse to let them fall. This will not become the sixth time in a row you spend your birthday crying your eyes out. Every year since the apostasy the sadness had won and turned what was supposed to be a happy day into one spent in misery. Year after year you'd hidden in Gaoth's box and cried, missing your father, your brother, your cousin, even the mother you could barely remember. No matter how hard you tried to have a good day in spite of that, or to simply ignore what day it was altogether, you'd succumbed to the tears every time. But not again. You refuse. There will be no tears today, no matter what the day brings.

And really, what does it matter that Xaden can't spend the day with you? You're home; that alone should be reason enough to be happy.

But it does matter. Coming home was supposed to put an end to your loneliness; instead, it has only made it more noticeable. Before, being alone equated being safe. It was your best option, surrounded by enemies as you were at all times. But now you're back with your family. Xaden and Bodhi are right there, you get to see them every day, and yet, you still spend the majority of your time as alone as you had in your foster home. It isn't fair.

Taking a step back, you shut the door, telling yourself you should be glad Xaden remembered your birthday at all, that he took the time to write you a note and leave cake, presumably in the middle of the night, despite being in a hurry to get to wherever it was he'd had to go.

It doesn't make you feel better.

You set the plate on your desk and try a bite of the cake. It's your favorite. You haven't had cake like this in years, made just the way you remember from childhood. If you weren't so disappointed by Xaden's absence, you would devour the slice and run to the kitchen to see if there is more of it. But the enthusiasm you'd woken up with has left you, drained away as quickly as it came. You decide you should get dressed before leaving your room after all — you're too old to run around in your pajamas, really, no matter how early it is.

You dress slow and listlessly, in between bites of cake. Disappointed or not, you savor the taste of it nonetheless. Maybe you really can get another slice later. There has to be more of it, right?

As you head out to the stable to feed Gaoth and muck her box, you keep thinking about the note your brother wrote you. He's always coming and going, trying to be everywhere at once, but as far as you're aware, it's rarely this sudden when he gets called somewhere. You wonder what happened, if maybe Tyrrendor is being attacked by Venin or the riders loyal to Navarre. Xaden's note isn't very informative. Something came up. Could he be any more vague?

Gaoth stops you from overthinking by being especially affectionate. She greets you by nosing at your hair and keeps abandoning her breakfast to rub her head against your shoulder while you go about changing the straw in her box. She always knows when you're sad, no matter how well you hide it from everyone else.

Outside her stall lays Xaden's surprise for you: A new pair of riding pants, with extra warm lining for the winter. Your favorite color, too, matching Gaoth's saddle pad. They're lying on top of a small crate. When you open it, you see that it contains a set of new grooming tools — brushes and combs and a hoof pick, everything you need for Gaoth. You'd had to leave your old set behind, and have been using those of an old horse who'd died recently. Part of you is surprised Xaden paid enough attention to know that, considering he's not exactly present in your day to day life.

You'll try them out later, after both Gaoth and you are fed.

Back inside the house, Bodhi waves you over to sit with him at breakfast. He's already halfway done — you've spent longer in the stable than you'd thought.

"Good morning, birthday girl," your cousin cheerfully greets as you slide into the seat next to him, and you find your mood improving a little, as it usually does around him. He doesn't even need to try; somehow his presence alone has a soothing effect already.

"Hi, Bodhi."

He reaches into his bag, which sits by his feet, and produces a book he hands to you. "Sorry, I didn't have time to wrap it."

"That's fine," you assure him, thumbing through the book. "Thank you."

It's a collection of short stories — all centered around horses, naturally. Bodhi knows exactly what a book needs to make you like it, and he even got a pocket-sized edition that you can comfortably take with you to read in the stable or when taking a break during a ride. Gaoth will love it, too. She might not understand the words when you read to her, but you always get the impression she enjoys it nonetheless.

"Do you know where Xaden is?" you ask, putting the book aside to start on your breakfast. "He wrote a note that he had to leave, but it didn't say why."

"They need him at the border, I think. Don't worry. He'll be back in a few days." Bodhi sounds like he's reassuring himself more than you, and adds, "Garrick is with him, too."

You nod, forcing a smile. Truth be told, it hadn't even occurred to you to worry about Xaden until now. He's so powerful, his dragon so big and scary, that it seems impossible anything could happen to him. A stupid way to think, naive. He is strong, but not undefeatable. No one is; your father's death taught you that. He, too, had always seemed invincible to you, until he lost the fight against Navarre and your world went up in flames.

A moment ago, you were merely disappointed that Xaden isn't there to spend your birthday with you, but now that Bodhi unwittingly put the idea into your head, you're scared something might happen to him, too.

Your cousin seems the sense the shift in your mood, because he throws his arm around your shoulder and brings up the one topic that always cheers you up. "Did Gaoth wish you a happy birthday yet?"

You snort. "So far I haven't had any luck teaching her how to talk, but I went out to feed her before getting my own breakfast, if that's what you mean."

Bodhi smiles, shaking his head. "Really? Even on your birthday?"

"Of course! Gaoth always comes first. Besides, to her it's a day like any other. If I fed her later than usual, she'd just think I forgot her."

You don't add that you know exactly how much feeling forgotten hurts, because it is something you've become very familiar with as of late. Bodhi would only feel guilty if he knew, and that's the last thing you want. It's not his fault. Not really Xaden's, either, though he is the one who most makes you feel so left behind. There's no one you can blame for your loneliness, except maybe the gods. It's the circumstances causing it, you know, and not malice or uncaringness. Your brother and cousin are grownups with grown-up responsibilities that demand their time, while you're just a teenager dedicating your days to your horse. There's not much the both of them have in common with you anymore. A depressing thought. You used to be pretty close when you were younger, despite the big age difference, bonded by your shared love for horses and adventure. Looking at Xaden nowadays, it's strange to think he used to be just as crazy about horses as you are. Did he really outgrow that love, or has he merely shoved it aside out of necessity? When you're as old as he is now, will you be such different a person from who you are now, too?

You shake your head. Pondering nonsense like that isn't how you want to spend your birthday.

Chatting with Bodhi about this and that is a good diversion, but after a while he checks his pocket watch and gives you an apologetic smile. "I really have to go now. See you later, yeah?"

"Sure." You already knew he can't just skip classes, so why are you so disappointed? "I was going to take Gaoth for a ride anyway. I'll try to be back for dinner, but don't count on it."

"Alright," Bodhi laughs, and ruffles your hair. "Enjoy your day."

Left alone once again, you take the rest of your breakfast out to the stable to finish it in Gaoth's company. When you're done, you stuff your new book and some food for later into a saddlebag and get to work with your new brushes, grooming Gaoth until her black fur is so clean it gleams in the bright morning light. Then you saddle up, and leave all your worries behind as you ride out into the snow dusted landscape.

It's late at night when Bodhi finds you sitting in front of the wall with family portraits.

You rode far up into the mountains with Gaoth, and only returned a few moments ago, long after the moon had risen. After a long day of riding and fresh mountain air, you should have fallen into bed and slept like a baby, but restlessness and a deep longing for the way things used to be keep you awake. You know you should at least try to get some sleep. You'll have to be up as early as always tomorrow, or Gaoth will be very unhappy. You just can't bring yourself to get up.

You're not even sure why it was that your feet had carried you here, of all places. Staring at your father's face on a portrait isn't going to bring him back. Still, you don't have it in you to look away, even when you hear footsteps and notice Bodhi in your peripherals.

He wordlessly sits down beside you, leaning his head back against the wall to look up at the same painting you're fixating.

It shows a much younger version of him sitting beside a much younger Xaden, who holds a tiny toddler you on his lap. Your dad and Bodhi's mom stand behind the plush armchair the three of you are squeezed into, and everyone is smiling. There are other pictures; just your dad, just your aunt, two more of the whole family — one from before you were born, another from when you were seven or eight, your mother notably absent in all of them. But you like this one the best.

After a few minutes of looking at the painting in companionable silence, you finally make yourself look away, and lean your head against Bodhi's shoulder.

Wrapping his arm around you, he scrunches his nose. "You smell like horse."

"I was out riding. Just got back like half an hour ago," you answer in the same quiet tone Bodhi used. You glance up at him from the corner of your eye without moving your head. "You smell like dragon."

The corner of his mouth twitches up. "I was out riding, too."

"Aren't your flight lessons in the afternoon? You could have showered."

Bodhi shrugs, chuckling softly. "I guess I could have. I saved you some cake from dinner, by the way."

"Yeah?"

You totally forgot about the cake. It makes sense they offered it at dinner, since you hadn't shown up for more, but you're glad Bodhi saved you another piece. He just is the best.

"Yeah. Want to go have a midnight snack?"

"Fuck yeah."

Today is the day. After weeks of practicing with Gaoth to be less scared of the dragons, you want to try riding right past them, closer than ever before. Not so close as to anger them, of course. You're no fool. You don't like getting too close to them, and they don't like it either, which is just fine by you. You'll get only close enough to comfortably ignore each other.

At least that's the theory. While Gaoth has gotten pretty good at ignoring them while you gradually reduced the distance you kept to the dragons, a risk will always remain. It isn't easy for a horse to fight the instinct telling it to flee from predators.

But you believe in her.

Setting out along the path that leads from the fortress up into the mountains, you make sure not to look at the two dragons standing somewhere to the left with their riders, doing gods know what. Even without looking it is a conscious effort to keep your posture relaxed. But you have to. If Gaoth feels you tensing up, she'll mirror you and you'll make each other more and more nervous until one of you spirals into full-blown panic. You can't have that.

From your peripherals, you note one of the dragons stretching its wings, getting ready to fly. Gaoth's ears twitch at the sound of its wingbeats when it takes off, but she doesn't balk. Pride flares in your chest. Weeks ago, she would have reared and fled. Now she just keeps walking, despite the other dragon looming a little to the side of the path further up ahead.

You really wish Xaden were there to see your success, but he's stuck in some meeting or other, and had impatiently waved you away when you'd tried to ask if he had time to show him the progress you made in getting over Gaoth's fear of dragons.

You do tell him about it later, though. He nods along and tells you "Good job", but it sounds halfhearted.

"Challenges are about to start. Why don't you go watch?" he suggests as soon as you finish talking. "I'm sure you could learn a thing or two."

He's been making comments like this for weeks now, ever since you accidentally reminded him that you were among those of the marked kids who hadn't received any combat training by the families who fostered them. It doesn't matter to him that you don't want to be a fighter, that you're perfectly happy just working in the stables. No, just because he likes to fight, he thinks you would too, if you only gave it a try.

You pull a face and stare down at your boots. They could really use some cleaning. "I dunno what's supposed to be so interesting about people beating the shit out of each other."

Xaden heaves a sigh. "There's more to it than that. You could learn a lot about the techniques behind it by watching."

"I don't care about fighting techniques."

That was the wrong thing to say. His face darkens. "You should."

"What's the point?" you argue, just like you do every time you have this conversation. Usually, he doesn't have the time to listen to you list the reasons why you don't feel the need to learn about combat, but this time, he lets you go on. "It's not like I'll have to attend Basgiath, now that you guys are doing your own thing. And even if that wasn't the case, I have years—"

"You need to able to defend yourself, even if you don't end up becoming a rider. We're at war, and nowhere is truly safe. Knowing how to dodge a blade could make the difference between being killed or getting away in case Aretia gets attacked." He folds his arms over his chest, a hard look on his face that tells you he's made up his mind even before he continues. "You are going to train, Y/N. I tried to be nice and convince you to learn willingly, but since you won't, you can consider this a fucking order. Be in the gym at six tomorrow morning."

Out of all the protests that come to mind, the one that comes out of your mouth is, "But that's the time I usually feed Gaoth!"

"She'll survive it if you feed her a little earlier."

With that, he walks away. It would be no use to run after him to argue further. Once Xaden has made a decision about something, it's practically impossible to change his mind, so you might as well accept that starting tomorrow, you'll have a new hobby.

The next morning, you make sure to be in the gym five minutes early to avoid giving Xaden a reason to scold you before the training even starts, but he is nowhere to be seen. Instead, it's Garrick who walks in. Watching him approach, it dawns on you that Xaden hadn't specified who would be instructing you. Foolishly, you had assumed he would do it himself. It stings a little that he won't, even though you know how many other, more important things he has to do.

Garrick beckons you to an unoccupied mat in the corner. The gym is still relatively empty at this time, which is fortunate — you're sure you'll be making a fool of yourself in no time. You're not normally clumsy, have good balance and strong muscles from riding and tending to the horses, but you're not sure how much good that'll do you. This is all completely new. Even the mat beneath your feet feels foreign. You have no clue how to hit someone, or stop them from hitting you, and knowing Garrick, he won't take it easy on you. He'll expect you to learn fast, to double your efforts for every mistake you make, which there will certainly be a lot of.

Sure enough, he throws you right in the deep end. "Alright, punch me. Come on."

You eye him with a healthy dose of trepidation. "You're not going to punch back when I do, right?"

"Nope. For now I'm just taking the role of the punching bag we're lacking."

That would have been a lot more reassuring if it wasn't for the two little words for now. He can't really expect you to handle yourself in a fight against him in the very first lesson, can he?

"Come on," he urges again. "Just try it."

"Shouldn't you show me how to do it first?"

You can tell you're already getting on his nerves by being so hesitant. It's beyond you why Xaden picked Garrick for this. You love the guy like another brother, you really do, but in your humble opinion he's not a good choice for teaching anyone anything. Maybe you're a little biased. You remember all too well being five or six years old and struggling to learn how to tie your shoes on your own. Xaden and Garrick had made it their mission to teach you, but all their well-meant tips had only confused you more. When you'd misunderstood their instructions for the umpteenth time, one of them — you're almost certain it was Garrick — had started yelling, you had started crying, which led to more yelling from both of them, this time at each other, which made you cry even more. You had run off to hide in your father's office for the rest of the day, and in the end, Bodhi's mom had been the one to teach you to tie your shoes.

So while you might not know anything about combat, you do know that it takes patience to teach someone something, no matter what it is. And though you have no doubt that Garrick is a brilliant fighter, patience is something he has always lacked.

"You telling me you don't know how to make a fist?" he challenges now.

"Of course I know how to make a fist, but—"

"Great, then do it and hit me. Today, if you don't mind."

Okay, fine. You're starting to want to hit him, even if you know damn well it will probably hurt you more than him. You ball your hand into a fist, draw back your arm, and punch him right into the middle of his broad chest.

Garrick doesn't even blink. You punched him as hard as you could, and he fucking stands there like he didn't feel anything.

You shake your hand, glaring up at him. This is bullshit.

"You held your hand at the wrong angle," Garrick explains. "Try again, but this time make sure your middle knuckles take the brunt of the impact. And don't bend your wrist."

He holds his fist against the palm of his other hand to demonstrate it, then gives you an expectant look.

You obey, and it continues like that for a while. Garrick tells you to do something, you do it wrong, he shows you the proper way to do it and makes you do it again and again until you get it right.

Only you keep getting everything wrong, and Garrick's meager patience is quickly exhausted.

"Whoa, no!" He stops you from completing the move he just demonstrated for the third time. "Not like that you fucking idiot! You'll hurt yourself that way. Do it like I showed you."

"I'm trying!" you yell back, fighting tears of frustration. Idiot is far from the worst insult anyone ever called you, and you know Garrick doesn't even mean it, that he's just annoyed because you're not catching on as fast as he would like, but that doesn't make the words hurt any less.

"Really?" he scoffs. "This is really the best you can do?"

"Yes!"

"Gods, you really know nothing about hand-to-hand combat, do you?" he groans.

"Yeah, no shit," you snap. "That's exactly what I've been telling you for the past hour!"

You're not sure if it really has been an hour already, but that's how long this session was supposed to go on for, and you're fucking done.

"No need to be a brat about it," Garrick growls back, just as frustrated by how badly the lesson went as you are. "I didn't think that just because you've never fought before you'd be this fucking clueless. Did you never at least watch a fight?"

"No."

"Why the hell not?!" Garrick asks, completely exasperated. It seems the idea that anyone could not be interested in fights is too absurd for him to believe.

"Because I don't like it."

"I'm getting the feeling you don't like anything besides Gaoth." When you don't contradict him, he shakes his head, saying "There's more to life than horses, you know."

"To you, maybe. Are we done now?"

To your relief, Garrick nods.

Without another word, you turn on your heel and storm from the gym and then the house. You'll probably get sick, going out into the cold without a jacket and soaked in sweat like this, but you don't care. Quickly bridling Gaoth, you swing yourself onto her bare back and urge her outside, too desperate to get away to bother with a saddle.

You're never doing that again, you think as you gallop away from Riorson House, the wind driving the tears you've been fighting from your eyes. Not in a thousand years. You don't care what Xaden says, if knowing self-defense is important. You're not a fighter, and you never will be. He can't change that. Garrick definitely can't. Deep down you know you're overreacting, but you don't care. You hadn't wanted to learn how to fight in the first place, and your failure to follow Garrick's instructions only solidified that. Fuck hand-to-hand combat. If you ever need to defend yourself, you can always let Gaoth kick the foe in the head.

When you return — shivering and numb from the cold, but calmer inside — Bodhi is waiting for you in the stable with your jacket. Shouldn't he be in class?

"I take it your lesson with Garrick didn't go well?" he asks, holding it up for you to slip into.

"He can shove his stupid fighting lessons up his ass."

"Who?" Bodhi asks, buttoning the jacket for you, since your own fingers are practically frozen stiff. "Garrick? Or Xaden?"

"Both of them."

Bodhi sighs. "I could have told him Garrick isn't a good choice as your instructor. I think he wanted to teach you himself at first, and when he realized he doesn't have the time he just picked the first person who came to mind. It's not your fault. Garrick just doesn't have the patience for this kind of thing."

"I don't care. I don't want to learn how to fight."

"Which certainly didn't help matters."

"I tried!"

"Of course. I'm not doubting that. I'm just saying you probably weren't in a good mood to begin with, so it's no wonder you and Garrick clashed. You know that just because you're not good at it right from the start doesn't mean you can't learn, right? You just have to keep trying."

You grab a carrot from the grain room, taking two angry bites before giving the rest of it to Gaoth. "I don't want to."

"It's for your own good—"

"Not you too!"

"I know you don't want to hear it, but Xaden is right. Just imagine if Aretia gets invaded!"

"That won't happen. And if it did, I'd just get on Gaoth and hide somewhere until one of you comes to tell me it's safe."

"And if the enemy blocks the way to the stable before you can get there? What then, huh?"

"Then... Then I would... Uhh..."

"Then it'd be very helpful if you knew how to fight, don't you think?"

"I guess..."

"So how about you give it another try with that in mind, hm?"

Bodhi says it so gently, the way you would talk to a skittish horse. You don't like that thought, but it's true you're still agitated, even now that the worst of your frustration is gone. You understand his point, but that doesn't change the way you feel.

"No."

"Y/N—"

"No! I don't want to fight!"

"I don't want you to have to fight, either. And you'll hopefully never have to do so for real. But, as we just established, you need to know how to do it just in case. Sparring can actually be pretty fun once you get the hang of it, you know." He rubs his hand over his face, sighing when you don't reply. "What if I train with you? Will you give another try then?"

You're about to say no, that you won't try again no matter with whom, but then it occurs to you that letting Bodhi give you fighting lessons would mean you'd get to spend more time with him. And he would definitely be more patient with you than Garrick was, kinder about all the mistakes you're bound to continue making.

Realizing something else, it's your turn to sigh. "I don't really get a say anyway, do I? I'll have to try again, whether I want to or not."

Xaden is so set on making you learn how to fight, there's no way he'll let you off the hook just because the first lesson didn't go well. But if Bodhi could convince him to let him teach you, maybe it would be bearable.

Bodhi nods, smiling apologetically. "It's for your own good."

"Fine. You can try if you can teach me how to fight. But only you. And only if there's cake after lessons."

"Deal."

You just got back from practicing with the throwing knives Xaden had gotten you upon Violet's suggestion. As sceptical as you had been of the idea at first, you find yourself enjoying it, much more so than the hand-to-hand fighting moves you begrudgingly practice with Bodhi thrice a week now. You can even do it on horseback! Well — theoretically. Your aim is not yet good enough to hit the target even with both feet on the ground, nevermind while riding. Nonetheless, it's fun to try.

You've almost reached your room when Xaden's door opens, and he and Violet come out, dressed for flying and strapped with weapons.

"Are you going to one of the outposts again?" you ask. If he's taking Violet with him, he must be expecting to stay away longer than usual this time.

But he shakes his head. "We're flying for Basgiath."

Oh. Right. You've heard about Melgren's prediction of the Navarrian outposts being overrun by Venin, and Violet's theory that the real battle has to happen at Basgiath. It hadn't sounded like the Assembly wanted to do anything about it, though.

"I thought the vote went against helping them?"

"Yeah, but we're going to do it anyway. Some of us, at least. Stay out of the Assembly's hair while I'm gone, yeah?"

"Sure." You push down the fear of knowing he's headed for battle; there's no way he'll listen if you ask him not to go. "Be careful."

"Always am."

That doesn't seem likely, but you've never seen him fight except for practice, so you can't argue.

With a last look at his and Violet's retreating forms, you slip into your room and send a prayer to Dunne that they'll make it back in one piece.

#xaden riorson x sister!reader #xaden riorson #xaden riorson x reader #bodhi durran x reader #fourth wing x reader #fourth wing imagine #xaden riorson imagine #bodhi durran #garrick tavis #platonic #platonic reader insert #sister!reader #marked!reader #riorson!reader #female!reader #requested

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ladybirdswritings · 4 months ago

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okay hear me out… xaden riorson x reader fic?

HERE SHE IS

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thelibraryoflightandflowers · 1 month ago

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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.

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velvetlilacsdaisies · 1 year ago

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Shit at Feelings iv

Bodhi Durran x fem!reader

Synopsis: Bonding with dragons? No issue. Killing venin? Unfortunate, but doable. Confronting your feelings towards your childhood best friend? No thanks.

Word count: 6k 🫢

Warnings: swearing (ofc), drinking, angstttt, y/n lore, lmk if I missed anything, not proofread at the end lmaooo

A/n: the long awaited part 4!! Hope y’all aren’t disappointed, trying not to think so hardly on this part bc I scrapped and rewrote this so many times 😅

You're unsure of when it started during the night, but as you sat at the booth with Violet, Rihannon, and Nadine; something stirred in your chest. You desperately tried to look interested in the conversation, trying to meet the eyes of Rihannon trying to focus on the way she animatedly told a story. Laugh when the women poked fun at Violet for something cheeky she’d bring up. Adding input to Nadine’s questions despite having to ask her to repeat herself without having your eyes dragging themselves to look at the other side of the bar.

Who was she?

She wore a dressed down pale blue healer uniform, her skin flawless free of relics and tattoos, glossy perfect red hair that cascaded down her back in waves. She radiated bubbliness from what you observed as she laughed at whatever Bodhi said or did a little dance when her friend sunk a billiard into a pocket. She always seemed to go right back to chatting with him. You couldn’t bear watching her cling to him, but you couldn’t drag your eyes away.

You were well aware you had no right to be sitting there, stomach churning with a bitterness of cold ire…but here you were doing just that.

Rihannon clicked her teeth, making you snap your attention back to the group. You didn’t even try to offer a coy look—this was the second time one of them caught you. You had tried the last two hours to hide your irritation, but it just kept beckoning to the surface. Slowly ticking away within you as if you were going to burst at the seams.

“Okay, what is going on between you two?” She laid her palms flat on the table.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You took a sip of your drink, acting as nonchalant as you could.

She gave you an incredulous look. “The fact you shied away from him all first year, then the first night of break whatever that was.” She waved her hand. “The other day during breakfast, when Dain came to grab him for the leadership meeting, and it was clear as day he was practically undressing you with his eyes when we first arrived.” she rattled off.

“It’s like I’m watching a romance novel unfold in real time.” Nadine said dramatically, a hand moving to her forehead feigning fainting.

You cringed, “it’s-it’s definitely not like that.”

“Not like what?” Quinn interrupted walking up to your own group. Bodhi and Imogen still had been at the table.

The mystery girl touching his built bicep. He had discarded his jacket an hour ago, his rebellion mark on display underneath his tight short sleeve t-shirt. “Ohhh,” she followed your gaze to Bodhi. “Immy told me all about this.” She said in delight to your dismay, taking a seat next to Nadine.

You brought your attention over to the curly haired blond girl. “Does everyone know about this ‘something’ except the two people this ‘something’ is about?” You snapped.

Everyone seemed to have an exciting interest in the nonexistent relationship between you and your childhood best friend.

Quinn merely raised her hands defensively, Rihannon and Nadine awkwardly sipping their drinks looking at the table interested in the wood grain.

“We’re all in the same wing, same section, Y/n it’s hard to ignore the hot and cold between the two of you.” Violet had a softened look in her eyes, being the most sympathetic toward you.

You flushed realizing your outburst, not meaning to aim it at your new found friends. The gnawing bitter feeling was just eating at you, and you couldn’t stop it from being all consuming.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, a scowl on your lips, staring into the clear fizzy liquid in your glass. Despite the tension you created, you looked at the bubbly girl across from you. “Quinn, who is that girl?”

She had a hesitant look on her face, her brown eyes swirled with trepidation. “Ariante, a third year healer.” She offered a short response, seeming to know more than she let on.

You only nodded, turning back to the other side of the bar watching the billiards tables. Ariante, the beautiful young woman, was lining up to shoot the shot, and shot Bodhi a wink before shooting. A small snarl left your lip unknowingly at the sight, leaving all the group to cast worried glances your way.

You grimaced at your behavior, not entirely sure why you had visibly been so riled up at the sight. “I’m gonna get some water.” You stood up, and left the group without another word.

Ariante skimmed her dainty plain manicured hands over Bodhi’s biceps as she giggled over something he told the group he played with. Usually her advances didn’t bother him, last year he had given in to them as a distraction many times when Y/n avoided him like a disease. Tonight though, his chest hammered in annoyance—maybe not just with her in general, but everything tonight seemed to be so overstimulating.

The loud tavern, how he fought a flinch every time the que would knock against a billiard, the musty smell of alcohol and fried food permeating the space, and how fucking unbearably hot he was.

He knew it had nothing due to the summer weather, that the heat that festered deep within him was caused by something wholly different.

Usually he’d use churam to block Cuir out, but the effects of the few drinks he had made it harder to keep that mental shield up and his dragon’s emotions started to take over. Of course Cuir and Cleasaí chose tonight of all nights to fight.

He had spent a year being accustomed to this, but he worried about you.

You still had been clueless to everything, your dragon stubbornly kept you in the dark, which had frustrated both him and Cuir. You didn’t deserve any of that, and he couldn’t help the pang of guilt he felt when he thought about it. He watched how tense you were at the booth, the girl’s giggling at what seemed like your expense; a scowl on your pretty lips at the interaction.

Another wave of heat filled and irritation rippled through him, and he screwed his eyes shut trying to ground himself. He had ripped his jacket off an hour ago, but to no avail aided any relief to his skin. It seemed it only made the pretty third year healer cling to him more. And the only aid that was brought, was to the disdain that rose with the proximity of her.

“Damn it Henrick!” Quinn stomped her foot frustratedly, making him open his eyes again. “I thought I was playing with an amateur?”

Sawyer had a broad grin as he nabbed the gold coins on the corner of the parallel table across from the one him and Imogen played at. “Beginners luck?” He shrugged casually.

The curly haired blond furrowed her eyebrows at the redhead. “Mhm, sure. Beginner’s luck my ass.”

Imogen cackled at her friend. “You’re the one that suggests putting coins down.”

Quinn mimicked Imogen, before a playful glare settled on her features. “Shove it Cardulo, I’m gonna go wallow in pity now if you need me.” She handed the cue to Sawyer before flouncing off to the rest of the group they came with.

Bodhi’s brown eyes not paying any mind to the feisty third year rider as she joined the booth, he instead had been focused on you again. Watching how your tongue darted in between your soft looking lips licking them, the same scowl still lingering on your face.

He had longed to get a feeling of what your lips felt like since he was barely an adult. Doing anything at this point to have a taste of you, knowing he shouldn’t have felt that way. You had always been just barely out of his reach, but he would have risked anything to have that moment as selfish as it sounded.

You were his best friend.

It was more than the idea of blurring the lines of your friendship that stopped him in the past; you were never meant to be anyone else’s, but who was chosen for you. Your parents had made you a lady of the Aretian aristocracy. The intent to secure a cushy life to make sure you would never have to experience war and hardship like they had—even if it wasn’t a love match. You were forced to take the decision they made for you with poise and grace. Exposed to the corrupt society of the aristocracy that lurked behind the violence since a preteen, never supposed to know war and violence like he had. But by the time the peak of the rebellion happened, and Execution Day arrived—it had been too late for the first hand you had been dealt with. Another decision instead handed to you from a choice that hadn’t been yours to ever make.

It was self indulgent thought, but the moment he knew you safely crossed the parapet—there was a hope that ignited in Bodhi’s chest he hadn’t felt in a long while. Despite the blatant act of avoidance on your part, he quietly watched your every move the first year.

Made sure Imogen spent extra time training with you so you’d be ready for your next challenge, telling her what she needed to critique you on from sparring lessons. Insisting Garrick to convince you to eat more than what you usually did so you could bulk muscle to help ease through the gauntlet. Pleading with Xaden to rearrange squads in the flame section so he could keep a better eye on you. Every action in efforts to aid you from the help of your mutual found family was a coercion from him; so he would know you’d have a shot at surviving this hellscape.

For only a measly chance of you to finally acknowledge him.

It had only been a coincidence (or was it? Cleasaí was known to be petty) you had bonded with Cuir’s other half. The mated dragons hadn’t talked since the end of his first year. The first half of being bonded to the notorious green filled with tumultuous arguments that he didn’t know what started from. They had only been recently mated in the last decade from what Cuir told him.

Bodhi swore he did more supply runs for churam than weapons by the end of the year before they went no contact, and just coexisted in the Vale with one another.

He would have preferred that over feeling the wavering aggression through the bond at this very moment.

“Handsome boy,” Ariante cooed, snapping her fingers to get his attention from across the table. Realizing he had zoned out again staring at you, Ridoc clapped him on the back.

“Yeah handsome boy...” he purred mockingly. Bodhi shrugged his hand off quite hastily. He was not in the mood for the second year’s comedic relief…and the overly inebriated physical touch of the counterpart.

Imogen sensed his discomfort by how tense he had looked, his posture usually more lax, or a boyish grin that had been replaced with a grimace. “Gamlyn, go get us some water.” She barked, face set to a hard grimace.

Ridoc with wide eyes in the fear of the short woman, saluted the group before walking off to the bar.

Bodhi reminded himself to thank her later once he was in a better mood. Instead he twisted his face into something that barely showed interest, not like it mattered, the healer was two shits to the wind at this point. Just caring his eyes were on her. Smiling brightly once he turned back to her, even if it was a stoic look he had on.

“I need you to watch as you lose this round.” She giggled, grabbing the cue from her friend’s hand.

The tawny skinned man watched disinterestedly as she made a show of setting her shot up. She swayed her hips to the table, making sure to press her chest down into the polished wood edges so her low cut tank top showed her cleavage as she lined up her shot. She made eye contact with him, offering a seductive wink, before clumsily shooting and completely missing the pocket. If he wasn’t so aggravated, he could have laughed at the scene.

It was Imogen’s turn now, and he subconsciously let his attention wander back to the booth again, noting you were now absent from the table.

It shouldn’t have been a big deal, but his heart skipped a beat in panic. He scanned the tavern looking for a glimpse of where you could have gone. He could spot you out of a crowd anywhere—from the way you wore your hair to the way you carried yourself.

His brown eyes searched the makeshift dance floor in between tables, the line for the bathroom, the exits of the tavern. The sense of relief when he finally found you should have eased his heart, instead it pounded louder and louder as his vision tunneled. Bodhi’s stomach churned with a burning green feeling, watching you sit at an empty side of the bar with Ridoc, smiling at him as the pair of you talked.

“So yeah, then Imogen told me to grab some water for them, and now I’m here doing that.” Ridoc rambled on about his night. Unbeknownst to him, you had spent the majority of the night meticulously eyeing the group from the booth. But you nodded along, idling swirling your finger along the lip of your cup, letting his word vomit become a white noise in your brain. “Imogen has a scary way of demanding things.”

A smirk had crept onto your face, replacing the frown you wore. Ridoc was always honest, but it was amusing to hear him drunkenly bare his soul at the bar over the silliest details. It had almost been enough to forget the prying animosity that filled your veins.

“Who are you telling? I have known her my whole life.” You reminded him rather distractedly.

Despite talking to him, your attention was still flicking towards the quieter side of the tavern—still invested in the man you’ve been stubbornly hiding your feelings from poorly and the pretty girl that clung to him. The game of billiards was dying down, only her friend and Imogen still playing one another.

Bodhi sat backwards in a chair off to the side, his chest pressed against the back, arms casually draped across the wooden top rail, and head hung low as he sipped from the bottle of ale he had been nursing. Ariante perched in a chair beside him, leaning over into his ear to talk. Her lips mere centimeters from him had your heart thumping so hard that you could hear it in your ears.

“Yeah, but you’re not like her or them in fact.” He shrugged.

That made you turn back to Ridoc, who didn’t realize you were only half heartedly invested in the conversation. Or if he did, he didn’t make it known.

“Like they’re all scary broody motherfuckers, and you're just you. Intimidating sure, but not all broody and aggressive.”

You let out a dry chuckle, “language please, they are my friends.”

He raised his full hands defensively, ignoring the fact he sloshed water all over him. “Sorry. You know what I mean though.”

You leaned your head to the side, a quizzical expression on your features. “Elaborate Gamlyn.”

You might have been aware of what he meant, just for the sake of your entertainment you didn’t mind hearing the inebriated man’s ramble of what he thought. It was the only thing that was keeping the pent up emotions beneath the surface.

“Well, you’re kind of lady-like?” He tested the word then nodding. “Yeah, lady like. Not that they don’t have manners—they have better manners than me, but you’re like a refined woman.” His eyes got big and arms were flailing as he animatedly spoke, water sloshing on him.

“Would you be surprised if I said I had been a lady?” You interrupted his spiel.

“No shit, like tea and biscuits, go for a promenade around the garden kind of lady?” He slurred in disbelief with an attempt of an accent.

The way he had said it made it hard to stifle your laugh. “Dowry to my name and all.” You mocked using a posh accent as well.

He made a strangled noise, as he puffed his cheeks out to prevent laughing. “Shit that was the worst accent I’ve ever heard.”

You tilted your back, laughing loudly as he snorted, unable to contain himself. “Thanks for your honesty, yours was just as awful.” You tried to compose yourself.

“I’m not the one that comes from the Aretian aristocracy though.” He said through a fit of giggles. You scoffed, shoving him slightly, giggling more when you had to grab his arm to keep him from stumbling over.

Once the laughter died down, Ridoc had started to talk your ear off again, but of course your focus went elsewhere. Your breath caught in your throat, the amusement on your face slipping.

Bodhi was shamelessly staring at you when you looked over this time. His eyes dark, and stone faced watching the side you resided on. He tilted his head back, draining the remainder of his drink. You couldn’t help to watch the expanse of his throat as he drank the rest of his drink, watching how his Adam’s Apple bobbed as he did so.

You gulped quietly, suddenly imagining how it would be to nip at the column of his thick neck. If he would squirm under your touch or make any soft noises if you kissed up his jaw…you were just torturing yourself at this point.

He the. swung his leg over his seat, muttering something to the pretty redhead, not waiting for a response as he made his way towards you.

Shit.

You panicked drifting back to the drunk man in front of you.

“So did you have—like—a betrothed before this?” Ridoc asked, rubbing the back of his neck, still oblivious you hadn’t been listening. “Is that why we’ve never seen you hook up with someone?!” He gasped as if he solved the biggest mystery, connecting non existent dots.

You could throttle him, trying not to watch the towering figure approach you.

“No, no, no!” You covered your face in your hands, cheeks flushing. “It never got that far, well there were a few arrangements that never went through.”

“Damn, your parents were slacking.” He scoffed jokingly.

“Ridoc,” you glared at him. Any amusement or relief from Ridoc now gone, hitting a nerve within you. The thought of your late parents always causing an ache in your chest and a knot in your stomach.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up,” Bodhi finished for you, coming up right behind him. He jumped, obviously startled by the new presence, and that it was Bodhi nonetheless. But he quickly recovered, turning to the taller man.

“You always jump right in at the most convenient times, handsome boy?” He questioned in a teasing tone. Handsome boy?

Bodhi glowered, stepping closer to your squad mate. “Call me that again—”

“Bo!” A high pitched shrill voice cut him off. It resembled nails on a chalkboard causing you to wince. Ariante appeared from behind Bodhi, a bright bubbly smile as she stumbled around him, grabbing his arm for support. “You didn’t wait for me.” She pouted playfully.

You had to fight the noise of disgust that wanted to escape your lips, but your facial expression gladly showed what you couldn’t verbally. The rational side of you knew you shouldn’t be reacting this way to a girl you’ve never met. You were past the point of rational though.

She then acknowledged you, her eyes a bright teal that sparkled sticking out her manicured hand. “I’m Ariante.”

You subtly glanced at your hands that were unkempt, nails nearly to the nubs with hangnails.

Gods, she really was everything you weren’t even down to the fingers.

You politely stuck your hand out, limply clasping hers. You hoped she wouldn’t feel your calloused fingers or notice how unladylike your hands were compared to hers as you introduced yourself.

“You know Bo?” She mused. Her hold still on him, despite her being perfectly stable. And the way his nickname came out of her mouth, you think you could regurgitate everything you’ve consumed today.

You offered a strained smile. “We grew up together actually.”

“How sweet!” She practically squealed. “I think it’s great how close knit all of you are!”

The tone deaf statement snipped the final straw of your patience and self control. No, you couldn’t let the feelings lay idly underneath any longer.

“I would say we all are,” you nodded. “I guess that’s what happens when all your parents are murdered in front of you.” You said it as if it was the most casual thing to leave your lips. The smile she wore faltered, and you could see Ridoc shove his hands in his pockets, whistling.

“Y/n…” Bodhi warned.

It could be treason speaking so freely of this, you hadn’t cared at the moment.

“What?” You said innocently, brushing off the warning look you know so well. She had started to sputter an apology, but you cut her off. “But how does such a sweet thing like you know Bodhi?” You asked, a smile growing sinisterly.

In your peripheral vision, you see Bodhi’s face pale.

“We’re acquainted.” He quickly answered, getting out of her grip as he reached over and grabbed the water out of Ridoc hands that were nearly empty from him constantly spilling. He gulped the water like a fish needing water, clearly uncomfortable.

“Very acquainted.” She fluttered her lashes towards him, tone suggestive. Brushing off your awkward interaction.

You made a noise of understanding. Everything you thought was confirmed by two words. Your thoughts lingering and spiraling. The idea of Bodhi intertwined with someone else was nauseating…even infuriating. Everything had drowned out by your heartbeat in your ears, Ridocs words were now inaudible, but assuming he was making a joke. Ariante shrilled giggles didn’t even affect you.

Why were you so mad? You had no right, you’ve been so awful to him the last couple of years—there was never a chance for you. Every interaction you two have had was just rekindling your friendship the past week not meaning anything more. Every poke and prod from your group of friends was something they misinterpreted between the two of you. You knew you shouldn’t have thought too hard on their words and jests, but deep down you only felt crushed of the hope there could have been.

Crack. You looked down at your glass that had been in your hand, the glass in between your knuckles nearly crushed.

The group flitted to you and the cup, even some of the surrounding patrons looked towards you warily.

“Are you alright?” Bodhi was the first to speak up.

“Just absolutely peachy.” You murmured, sliding the object towards the other side of the bar.

“Wow, all you riders are so strong.” Ariante laughed nervously. If this could have been any worse, you weren’t sure if you wanted to punch something or cry now.

“Excuse me,” fighting the lump in your throat. Standing up quickly walking towards the nearest exit without a word.

You walked outside, not quite being able to comprehend what just happened in the matter of seconds. Clenching and unclenching your fists, your chest heaving as everything felt as if it was closing in, pacing on the cobblestone outside the tavern. The smell of incoming rain permeating the humid air that blanketed over the quaint town. Usually a smell that eased your mind, was an overbearing semblance to the internal storm inside you.

“Y/n!” Bodhi called out your name, walking out the door you walked out of moments prior. The bass in his voice stoked the fire that formed in the pit of your stomach, ready to burn you from the inside out. Turning on your heel you faced the 6’3 man, brows already furrowed in glaring daggers towards him, chest still heaving erratically unable to control your breaths.

“You need to breathe.” He didn’t let your behavior deter him. His tone smooth and even, several feet away, not meeting your gaze like if he did he would combust into flames from your glare.

You scoffed, “shouldn’t you be inside with Ariante?” Her name dripped off your tongue with venom.

He opened and closed his full lips, setting his hands on his hips; absolutely dumbfounded. “Y/n…” he said through staggered breath. “I came here with you tonight.” He took a few steps towards you cautiously. “I came up to talk to you at the bar, trying to leave her with her friend.” His focus seemed to be on the wall behind you, and not your own eyes as he still walked towards you. “I followed you out here, leaving her in there.” His words slow, as he stepped right in front of you. “Does it look like I give a fuck about her?” He didn’t let you answer.

“Has everything this past year made it look like I give fuck about anyone else, but you?”

Despite the tug in your heart you felt at his words, pulling you out of your blind rage and jealousy for a split second—it was frustrating how he refused to look you in the eyes.

“You were letting her hang all over you tonight, how can I believe that?!” You held your chest with one arm, the other outstretched to the door.

He gave an aggravated shout, lunging and grabbing your arms. You stiffened at his touch, his hands were just as hot as you felt. He seemed to notice as well, flinching at the realization, but his hold stayed secure on you. He leaned down, his breath warm against the shell of your ear.

“If you watched my every move, you would have noticed I wasn’t interested in her. I was only watching you the whole night.” That Gods forsaken deadly calm tone sent a shiver down your spine despite the heat you felt. “Now lift your arms up.” He ordered, the sentence barely above a whisper.

His usual honeyed brown eyes finally locked with yours, dangerously darkened. A silent gasp leaving your mouth agape, unable to pull away from his dark orbs submitting to his quiet demand, your arms rising up slowly.

His rough calloused skin brushing your arms ignited a solely different fire within you as he slid the sweater off your frame. “Fuck, you’re burning up.” He muttered, throwing the sweater on the cobblestone leaving you in the corseted tank top you had on underneath. Lightning flashed in the skyline, thunder following a moment later, and rain started to pour from the clouds moments later. The droplets are warm from the summertime, but still cooler than both your skin, creating a steam that ghosts around the both of you.

“So are you,” you said breathlessly. “Do you have any idea why?” You two were so close your chests brushed together, every time one of you breathed. You anticipated what he would say next, but Bodhi kept quiet, tugging on his lip, seeming to be fighting a battle with himself. He turned away from you, rubbing a hand over his face, looking up at the rain stricken sky.

“You do know don’t you?” You rasped.

“I just want to preface I wanted to tell you—”

‘Don’t. You. Dare. Tawny. One.’ Cleasaí dangerously seethed through your head.

It had been silent on the other side of the bond all night, you tugged the invisible string to her countless times, but no answer. Now she wanted her presence known? Known to someone that couldn’t hear her nonetheless.

‘She deserves to know what you’ve been hiding.’ Bodhi glowered. You were still watching him, and he hadn’t opened his mouth…and he heard your dragon?

A new deep sophisticated tone entered your mind, ‘Cleasaí the inevitable is going to happen—‘ Cuir?

‘That I’ll find out?’ You stood in that mental art studio you were taught to use as your source for grounding. The door wide open letting in the thoughts and voices that freely flew through your mental guards. That one invisible string that led to the door seemed to have an added two now.

“Shit,” Bodhi hissed.

“How long?” You gritted your teeth, focusing on the man in front of you. He stayed quiet. “How long did you know?” You repeated louder.

He looked at the ground, “since my threshing.”

You tensed, how come he knew, but you had been clueless this whole time?

‘It’s not ideal to have one rider running from the other while their supposed mated dragons aren’t even on speaking terms.’ Cuir explained.

You fought the tears that lined your eyes, ‘he gets to know, while I’m left in the dark?!’

‘That was for Cleasaí to tell you, my rider had no choice to listen to us dragonkind.’ Cuir explained with a steeliness.

‘And I told her I would tell her in due time.’ Cleasaí chuffed in the corners of your mind.

It felt crowded in your brain, two additional voices, on top of your grappling emotions. You inhaled deeply, blinking tears away furiously.

“Y/n,” Bodhi came towards you. “I wanted to tell you.”

“When was I going to be told?” You snapped. “When you graduate?!” A couple tears now silently slip down your cheeks.

You didn’t know where to point the frustration at. Cleasaí should have told you it was her responsibility, but if Bodhi wanted to talk to you so badly that would have been the topic to start with.

“Our luck would be they would stick you in Samara like Xaden!” You shouted.

“When was I supposed to tell you? When you were running the other direction?! Or would you have preferred a note during Battle Brief only for you to go into a volatile meltdown?” He argued.

You laughed harshly, “I would have not—”

“Oh yes you would have.” Bodhi rolled his eyes. “That’s why Xaden warned me not to.”

Your eyes widened, “Xaden knew?”

‘Why wouldn’t the Wingleader know?’ Cleasaí snorted humorlessly.

‘I don’t want to hear it from you.’ You growled shutting the mental shield up from her and hopefully Cuir. You didn’t know how this all worked.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “He’s known since before you even crossed the parapet.”

“Does anyone else know?” You crossed your arms.

“Assumedly Violet, but no one else.”

Your eyes narrowed, she seemed to know everything didn’t she?

You grew quiet, mulling over everything as the rain was the only sound that filled the streets. You felt betrayed, not only by the creature that put their faith into you and vice versa, but by the man you had grown to love. Was that why you had felt like your irritation was an out of body experience earlier?

“Why do you think I have a churam dependency?” Bodhi bit the corner of his thumb, looking at you.

“Can you get out of my mind?” You frowned, picking the soggy sweater up off the cobblestone. You sniffled, wiping your face, before proceeding to walk towards Basgiath, wanting to get out of the vicinity of him. To think you could have died without even knowing… what would have happened to the dragons—yet worse—him? You didn’t even want to ponder over the details that entailed that yet.

“Trust me I’m not trying, but your thoughts are so fucking loud.” He muttered, following you.

“Then can you not follow me?” You turned, walking backwards wiping wet hair out of your face. The sting in your eyes is almost blinding from fighting the glaze of tears.

“It’s not safe to walk by yourself this time at night.” He said as if it was obvious.

“I’ll be fine,” you tried to reassure as you slipped the dagger out of your top, you tucked between your breasts when getting ready.

“You’ve been drinking, Y/n. That’s not going to do shit.” He tried to catch up to you, but you were a step ahead, even walking backwards.

“I feel stone cold sober at this moment.” You half lied, quickly turning back around, putting the dagger back where you kept it. You didn’t want him to see how your lip trembled, and you were ready to break. That was the last thing you needed was to have a ‘volatile meltdown’ in front of him. Though that’s what this whole night felt like, a tantrum of a fever dream.

You two came to a fork in the path that led to Basgiath from Chantara. You may have forgotten which path you took earlier in the night. So you hoped as you veered left, you would be going the right way, anything to just get away.

But his hand caught your arm, pulling you around to face him.

“I just got you back, I’m not letting you just be barely out of my reach again.” He seethed, his grip firm, but gentle. His touch was still blistering against your own skin.

“I’m not doing it, Y/n. I’ve already spent years running for you when you just kept running backwards for whatever reason!”

The tears had silently begun to fall again down your cheeks, this time unable to stop. “Do you want the reason, Bodhi?” You could feel yourself start to shake as the words left your mouth. “Because I love you!” You finally admitted, the confession a hushed whisper.

You watched with tears flowing freely as he staggered back a couple steps at what you said. He remained quiet as you continued. “I was never meant to love someone freely. And everyone I loved left—”

Your declaration is cut off by his lips smashing to yours. A primal fiery heat as your lips connected, his hands cupping your jaw, your lips melted with his realizing he was kissing you. The taste of the saltiness from your tears mixed with the essence of alcohol on both your lips was dizzying.

This was everything you could have imagined and more since you were a young woman. Everything you wanted the past five years. You felt his thumbs brush underneath your chin as you relished the feeling as you continued to kiss him with a fervor you never experienced. Your hands sliding up his chest around the back of his neck, gripping on his wet dark curls you’ve always admired. A soft sigh left his lips, and it was a noise you could listen to forever, but of course your thoughts spiraled.

A much more important secret was withheld from you, not only by him, but Cleasaí. A petty love confession that you withheld as a way to protect yourself and what you thought would protect him, when the secret of bonded dragons affected four beings outweighed it all. Whether it was his choice or not.

You pulled away abruptly. “I-I can’t.” You said, feeling your own heart break.

“What do you mean you can’t?” He sputtered, confused.

“Me professing my love doesn’t change any of the circumstances.” You shook your head, letting go of him reluctantly. “If anything it only adds to the risk of this whole situation.”

You needed to think about everything thoroughly, and away from him. If not, you might not think straight. You had to go.

“Y/n,” Bodhi pleaded desperately. He watched you turn and make your way back to the war college. You ignored him, even when your bones itched to turn and run back into his arms. “Do my feelings mean nothing to you?!” He shouted, standing where you left him.

Your steps faltered, and that break you felt in your chest worsened. You turned, with a strained smile on your face through your tears.

“They do, more than you could ever realize.”

Y/n is definitely Violet coded I’m sorry 😅 and the y/n lore will thicken in part 5 hehe

Thank you sm for the comments and support, it means a lot to have people that actually enjoy what I put out and try to have patience for my posting inconsistency!! I love talking with you all about it and hearing your conspiracies through out the whole series. I think there will be 2-3 more part before I finish and move on to my next ventures, but as always like, reblogs, and comments are appreciated 🫶🏻🫶🏻

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