#garrick fourth wing imagine

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

I don't know if you're taking requests, but I'll take a chance haha, I read His Girl and became completely obsessed with Garrick because of you haha, could you make Garrick possessive/jealous of the female reader he says he hates, pleeease?

Well... I caved in. As always it's not exactly as the request but still something along the lines. 🤍✨🫧

Silent worry

"These are the petrol stations for today, hand them out to the squads", Garrick dropped a stash of papers next to you. You frowned at him instantly, "Our squad is supposed to be on a rest this week", you grunted, flipping through his plan. "Things change, hand them over. The first squad is supposed to leave in fifteen minutes", Garrick said bluntly.

"No they are not", you say firmly, and Garrick instantly raises an eyebrow at you. "I'm second in charge. You run this shit through me. They are not ready and will not fly. End of the conversation, Tavis", you pushed off the wall trying to size him up but in all honesty, who were you kidding? The guy was at least twice your size. His power was lethal. He didn't listen to people ordering him around. Unless it was Xaden or someone from the upper management.

"I gave you an order. You're not gonna follow through?", Garrick leaned over you. You hated that the height difference allowed him to look down on you lime that. You bit the inside of your cheek. You knew that you had to follow his orders but this was unheard of. The same squad that was supposed to fly now had only come back hours ago. Most of the cadets were still asleep.

"I'm telling you that I don't agree with your decision", you said through gritted teeth, "As a section leader you should know better". That was enough to ear a growl from Garrick. "You're getting too comfortable in your own position", he snarled, "Forgot what tasting dirt beneath other's boots felt like so quickly?". You know that Garrick can see the hurt that flashed through your eyes. You flex the muscles in your jaw. No, you were not gonna break beneath this man's gaze.

"Knock it down you two", Xaden's warning voice boomed as he and Bodhi walked towards you both. You drop your gaze yet you could almost swear that Garrick was about to say something but he had chosen against it at the very last minute. "Why are you too bickering once again, huh?", Bodhi draped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him playfully but the tight smile on your face didn't ease. More anger, however, flared in Garrick's eyes. Gods, you were done with this. Pushing Bodhi's hand off you. You shoved the papers into Garrick's chest, "I'll form a squad myself and we will leave when I say that we leave", you hissed, sparing him one last look as you pushed past them.

"Was this necessary?", Bodhi asked as he moved to lean against the wall. "No one asked for your opinion, Bo", Garrick huffed as he looked down the balcony at you rushing down the stairs. "You're too harsh on her", Xaden mused. "We don't cuddle cadets, Riorson", Garrick bit back coldly. "Right, but she's a friend. A part of our close group, not some newbie", Bodhi noted firmly, clearly getting fed up with watching you two bickering back and forth no doubt. "She deserves better from you, man", Xaden tapped his shoulder as he turned to step away. As if Garrick didn't know that himself. But he wasn't grown on love. All he had was Xaden and then along the way, they found people they could trust. But emotions... Let's just say managing them had never been his strongest asset. "Fuck it", Garrick grumbled as he pushed away from the railing, turning to the stairs. Bodhi chuckled in the background, "Don't forget to tell her that you love her", he shouted from behind, only earning a vulgar gesture in return.

He had just rounded the corner when Chradh's voice echoed through his mind. Save yourself the running, she already left. Garrick let out a frustrated growl, How many did she take with her? There was a beat of silence. Three, others declined. Declined? How dare anyone decline your orders? The squads were as much under your command as they were under his. Before you blow up and embarrass yourself, she gave them a choice. No, he was going to have a long conversation with you when you came back and Garrick was more than ready to remind you just how you don't ask but give orders.

What he didn't know was that he was going to get long hours of waiting. Filled with nothing but self-sabotage. You should have been back a couple of hours ago. No matter how much he tried Garrick couldn't focus on anything. He was clueless in the class that he paid zero attention to. He didn't hear most of his friend's conversations. Training had taken some of the toll but only for that time. Only while he was punishing. One swift hook under another. The bag cracked through the seams. "Right, tiger, step aside", Bodhi called out but his joke didn't land and Garrick had him pinned against the wall in the blink of an eye. Xaden quickly cut in, pulling at his lifelong friend, "Outside now", there was no question in his voice, this was a demand.

Garrick rubbed his hands over his face. The cool breeze helped but it also reminded him that the sun was setting down. Meaning now it was way WAY past the time you were meant to be back. "She will come back", Xaden said calmly, "So whatever that's brewing inside you now", he gestured to his friend, "let go of it because she will be too tired to deal with your bullshit". Garrick knew that himself without anyone having to tell him.

"You know", Xaden moved to stand next to him, "You're miserable company when Y/N is not around". They both snickered quietly but Garricks's face glazed over first. "And whatever that you're thinking now is not true", Xaden cut In quickly, "Not that you deserve any praise but she likes you just the way you are", "Fuck you", Garrick muttered, turning away from his friend, "Violet made you soft as fuck". Xaden only smirked, "I would do anything for her. We both have sharp edges and scowls but they see right through it".

He sat in the courtyard after that. Glaring at the darkening horizon as if that somehow prevented the night from settling in. You humans are unbearable creatures Chradh mused. Ask her dragon where they are. A chuckle sounded, I enjoyed watching you sweat way too much to do that. Garrick was about to fight back as the sound of the wings filled the sky. It had to be you. It had to. All other squads were back. He had chucked dozens of times. The moment your blue dragon came in view Garrick nearly sank to the floor. You were seated. Your posture seemed strong. You had to be fine.

The moment everyone dismounted Garrick stepped forward. Crossing the distance between you two. Your dragon merely rolled his eyes. "You three are dismissed", he said bluntly to the cadets motioning for them to get on their way. They slowly looked among themselves before their eyes fell on you. "I said...", Gaarick started again but you quickly cut in, "Go you guys, I'll see you in the morning. You did great", you said softly, offering them a tired smile, that they quickly returned. Shooting Garrick a dirty look as they walked past, already engaged in a conversation of their own.

Your shoulders slump slightly, "Let's hear it", you sighed, clearly preparing yourself for Gaarick's harsh words. That flickered guilt within his chest. Had he genuinely been such an ass to you lately, that him getting angry was all you expect? Garrick stepped forward, his arms instantly reaching for your body as he wrapped you up in his embrace. Your body stayed stiff for a moment. The shock of the situation kept you paralyzed before you muttered, "Garrick?".

"Just tell me if you're hurt. Did you get attacked? Does anything hurt?", he pulled away abruptly, looking you over. Your eyes fall on his wind-swept hair, "Have you been sitting here all night?", you asked him softly. He lost a breath himself, halting before he nodded his head. Your face softened as you reached up to cup his cheek, "You didn't have to, everything is okay", "You were meant to be back hours ago and we separated like that and...", a string of frustrated words slipped past his lips. You watched him for a moment before you stepped forward, pressing your head against his chest as you squeezed him to you. Garrick lost a labored breath, his own body relaxing before he pressed a couple of loving kisses along your hairline. Tenderly stroking your back. You looked up at him, "Worrying looks good on you", you teased him softly earning an eye roll, "You sound like fucking Bodhi and Xaden", he huffed but his tight smile curved upwards as you softly giggled. "Come on let's get you fed and washed up", Garrick pulled you alongside him, his grip not loosening on you as you two walked towards the main entrance.

[angstywaifu]

Flight Attendant: Before we take off please make sure that all small items are secured. Garrick: Do you feel safe? Violet: Fuck you.

[soulofapatrick]

“Just trying to make sure you’re okay,” - Garrick Tavis x female reader

Summary: Oren tries to kiss you but you defend yourself before Garrick can intervene

Warnings: almost non-con kiss; mainly fluff

Words: 3.2k

Y/N's POV

The courtyard is quiet tonight, almost too quiet, as I speed walk through it to get back to the dorms before anyone finds me out of bed. But, of course, nothing can go smoothly because suddenly Oren is appearing in front of me, backing me into one of the darker corners of the yard. His hand clamps tightly around my wrist, blunt nails digging into my skin painfully through my riding leathers as he looks me up and down like some piece of meat. 

“What are you doing Oren?!” I grit out, trying to pull my arm free, but his hold seems to only tighten, nails probably drawing blood. 

Oren doesn’t listen. Instead, he ignores me completely, yanking me closer, and I nearly gag at the stench that hits me. Up close, he reeks of sweat and stale air, his skin slick with it. His breath is hot and foul, making my stomach turn as he leans in, eyes dark with something I don’t want to acknowledge. 

My heart pounds in my chest, the courtyard spinning around me as he comes even closer. 

“Stop!” I mutter, but the word is stuck in my throat, barely audible as his lips hover just inches from mine. His breath is suffocating, thick and sour, and I want to recoil, but I can’t. My chest tightens, and my heart is pounding so loud it drowns out everything around me. I feel trapped, the space between us shrinking with each breath, with every disgusting inch he moves closer. My skin crawls under his touch, his nails digging deeper into my wrist, sending sharp waves of pain through my arm. I want to scream, to thrash, but it’s as if my body refuses to cooperate, frozen in fear.

I want to cry. 

I feel my throat tighten with the urge, tears threatening to sting my eyes as panic bubbles up inside me. My mind races, searching for something—anything—to pull me out of this moment, to make this stop. But my voice is gone, stuck in my throat like a heavy stone.

I can hear Nyx in the back of my mind, a low growl vibrating through our bond. She senses my fear, my disgust, and it only amplifies her anger. Her presence is fierce, hot like the flames she can command, and it’s enough to remind me that I’m not helpless. I’m not weak.

And then I see it—movement. Out of the corner of my eye, two familiar forms lurking in the shadows. Xaden and Garrick. They’re close. Watching. I know they see what’s happening. The sight snaps me out of my stupor, adrenaline spiking in my veins like lightning. Something clicks in me. No. Not me—something else takes over, something fierce and powerful. Before I know it, my body moves on its own. My left fist swings up, and I don’t even think about the impact before it happens. My knuckles collide with Oren’s face, bone meeting flesh in a sickening crack.

The satisfaction is instant, a surge of power and pride washing over me as Oren stumbles back, clutching his cheek. His cry is sharp, high-pitched, almost girlish. My hand throbs with the blow, but the rush of adrenaline drowns out the pain.

He swears, stumbling as he tries to recover. “You—bitch,” he spits out, the word snarled through gritted teeth, his eyes narrowing with a mixture of shock and fury. “Fucking crazy”

“Get the hell away from me,” I growl, voice finally steady, stronger than I thought possible. My arm is still throbbing, his nails having left deep indents, but I don’t care. Not anymore. Oren’s curses fill the air, each word sharper than the last as he stumbles, clutching his crooked, bleeding nose. His eyes burn with rage, and for a split second, I see him move forward, his hand dropping from his face as if he’s actually going to try something. My heart races again, but this time it’s different—I’m ready. My body hums with the rush of adrenaline, my hands balled into fists at my sides. 

Then, behind me, I hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching. Slow. Purposeful.

Xaden and Garrick emerge from the shadows like predators stalking their prey. They move in unison, lethal grace in every step. The tension in the air thickens, and Oren’s fury falters, replaced with something that looks like fear.

“You heard her.” Xaden’s voice cuts through the night like a blade, low and gruff, full of menace. It’s a command, not a suggestion, and it stops Oren in his tracks. His eyes flick between the two of them, the anger quickly draining from his face. For a moment, Oren looks like he wants to argue, but Xaden’s glare alone is enough to pin him in place. He swears under his breath, a mangled sound of frustration and pain, before finally turning on his heel, scampering away like a beaten dog.

I release a breath I didn’t know I was holding, the tension in my chest loosening as I watch him disappear into the darkness. The courtyard feels eerily quiet now, the only sounds the fading echo of Oren’s footsteps and the faint rustle of wind through the trees.

Before I can say anything, Xaden melts back into the shadows as swiftly as he appeared, his dark form blending with the night. I barely have time to open my mouth to thank him before he’s gone.

Now, it’s just me and Garrick.

The quiet between us feels thick but not uncomfortable. It’s like the night is holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. His presence beside me is steady, a calm strength that I’ve come to rely on without even realising it. But tonight, it feels different. More intense, charged in a way I wasn’t expecting. His hazel eyes settle on me, soft but filled with something that makes my heart stutter, my pulse quickening under his gaze.

“Let me walk you back to your room," Garrick says, his voice deep and low, almost gravelly. There’s a protective edge to it, but also a gentleness that sends warmth flooding through me.

I nod softly, glancing up at him. Garrick is…Garrick. Pale skin that seems to glow in the moonlight, dark, messy curls that tumble around his face, and those striking hazel eyes that always seem to catch the light just right. His broad shoulders seem to take up twice the space as anyone else, his hulking frame making him appear almost too large for the quiet intimacy of this moment. He’s always towered over everyone, but there’s something comforting about it now, like his sheer size alone is enough to keep me safe from anything.

As we start walking, his footsteps slow and deliberate, he glances at me out of the corner of his eye. "You handled yourself well back there," he murmurs, the compliment soft but sincere. His voice sends shivers down my spine, but in a good way.

“Thanks,” I mumble, still trying to wrap my head around everything that just happened. My hand instinctively goes to rub the sore spot on my wrist where Oren’s grip had been, the skin tender and red. My heart hasn’t fully calmed yet, the adrenaline still rushing through my veins.

Out of nowhere, I see a flicker of movement in the shadows, and before I can stop myself, I jump, my body reacting before my mind can. My hand flies out, gripping Garrick’s without thinking. My heart slams against my ribs, panic from the encounter with Oren still fresh in my mind.

His hand tightens around mine instantly, strong and reassuring. He doesn’t pull away, doesn’t hesitate, just holds on, steady and unshakable. The warmth of his palm grounds me, the way his fingers curl around mine making me feel safe, like nothing can touch me as long as he’s here.

“Easy,” he says softly, his thumb brushing over the back of my hand. “It’s just a shadow.”

I nod, trying to steady my breathing as he leads me toward the dorm building. My heart is still hammering in my chest, but not just from the fear. There’s something else now, something unexpected. The way his hand feels in mine, the way he’s so calm, so present—it makes my stomach flip.

The dorm building looms ahead, dimly lit and quiet in the night. First-year cadets stay on the first floor, second years on the second, third years on the third. I’ve been here long enough to know the routine, and I expect him to lead me straight to my dorm on the first floor.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, we head up the stairs, each step making my pulse race a little faster. My hand stays firmly in his, his grip never loosening as he guides me upward. I glance up at him, confusion mixing with excitement. My nerves tingle as we climb higher and higher, past the first floor, then the second. My heart flutters in my chest, excitement thrumming through me as I realize where we’re heading.

He’s leading me to his floor.

I don’t ask why, and he doesn’t offer an explanation, but I don’t need one. The nervous energy swirling inside me is enough to keep me silent, anticipation sparking with every step.

We stop outside a door near the end of the hall, Garrick’s door. He pulls out a key and unlocks it with a quiet click. The door swings open, and he holds it for me, his broad frame taking up nearly the entire doorway. I duck under his arm, heart fluttering as I step inside.

His room is simple but unmistakably his. There’s a neatly made bed, sheets dark and crisp, and a large window with the moonlight streaming in, casting a silvery glow across the stone floor. A few personal belongings are scattered here and there—a well-worn book on the bedside table, boots tossed in the corner, and his riding gear draped over a chair. The space smells faintly of leather and something distinctly him, something warm and grounding. It’s comforting, yet I can’t help but feel a little out of place, unsure of why he’s brought me here instead of my own room.

Before I can ask, Garrick disappears into the small ensuite off to the side. I stand awkwardly near the bed, glancing around the room, feeling the nervous buzz in my stomach only grow stronger. A moment later, he returns, a small first aid kit in his hand.

It’s only then I notice the blood dripping down my arm, the dull ache in my wrist now sharp and stinging. Oren’s grip had cut deeper than I realized, nail marks leaving angry red trails down my skin.

Garrick’s eyes flick to my arm, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. He guides me to sit on the edge of his bed, his touch gentle but firm. I swallow hard, trying to calm my racing heart as he kneels between my legs, settling there as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

But my mind goes somewhere else entirely.

The sight of him kneeling between my legs, his large hands carefully rolling up my sleeve, sends a rush of heat through me that has nothing to do with the pain in my arm. He’s so close—so achingly close—that I can feel the warmth radiating off him, the scent of leather and something distinctly Garrick enveloping us. My heart races, each thump echoing in my ears, the quiet of the room amplifying the moment in a way that feels almost intimate.

His hazel eyes flicker to the cuts on my forearm, but I can’t shake the feeling that he’s fully aware of the effect he has on me, the way my breath hitches in my throat as he hovers near. It’s as if he knows what this proximity does to me, and a thrill runs through my veins at the realization that maybe, just maybe, I do the same to him. I see the slight dilation of his pupils, the way his breathing slows as he focuses entirely on me, and my body ignites with a mix of nervous energy and undeniable desire.

The sting of the antiseptic pulls me back to reality, yet it only sharpens the knot of yearning tightening in my stomach. I try to remind myself this is just a simple first-aid moment, but the heat in the room feels electric. My mind races with thoughts of how his hands would feel against my skin, exploring in ways that have nothing to do with cuts and bruises.

And before I can stop myself, my fingers find his dark curls, threading through them like they were meant to be touched. They’re even softer than I imagined, silky and thick, each strand slipping between my fingers as if inviting me to pull him closer. I don’t realize how tightly I’m holding on until Garrick lets out a low, choked sound, his breath hitching in the back of his throat, his body freezing for just a moment.

The sound sends a jolt of electricity through me, awakening something primal and teasing in my nature. I can’t help the smirk that plays at my lips as I notice the flush creeping up his neck. He tries to regain his composure, but there’s an unmistakable vulnerability in his hazel eyes as he looks up at me, and I wonder if he feels the same pull I do.

“Sorry,” I murmur, feigning innocence even though my heart races with excitement. But it’s not just an apology; it’s an invitation. I want to see how he reacts, to push the boundaries just a little further.

As he resumes tending to my arm, his hands brushing against my skin send shivers racing up my spine. The intimacy of the moment is almost dizzying, and I can’t ignore the way he leans in slightly, the heat of his body melding with mine, the tension between us crackling like wildfire. I bite my lip, a mix of shyness and daring coursing through me as I realize I’m enjoying this far too much.

Garrick’s fingers linger on the edge of my sleeve, and I can’t help but wonder how it would feel if he slid them higher, if he let himself explore the curve of my arm, the pulse in my wrist. The thought sends a rush of heat to my cheeks, and I catch the briefest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

“Just trying to make sure you’re okay,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky, that teasing glint in his eye making it hard to breathe. And in that moment, the space between us feels charged, electric—like the very air around us is begging to be ignited.

Taking a leap of faith, I tug gently on his curls again, tilting his head up just enough to meet his gaze. Our eyes lock, and in that moment, the world outside fades away. My heart races, a mixture of exhilaration and uncertainty swirling within me. Is this too far? But as I lean in, I can feel the heat radiating between us, a magnetic pull that draws me closer.

Before I can overthink it, Garrick surges up, closing the gap in a heartbeat. Our lips collide softly at first, a tentative exploration filled with the sweetness of newfound desire. His lips are plush and soft against mine, as if they were made for this very moment. I feel the warmth of his breath mingling with mine, igniting a fire that threatens to consume us both.

As the kiss deepens, the hesitance gives way to something hotter and more fervent. Garrick shifts, rising over me, and the solid weight of him pressing me into the bed sends a thrill coursing through my veins. The sensation of his body enveloping me, so solid yet incredibly soft, feels intoxicating. His hands find my hips, fingers digging in just enough to elicit a gasp from my lips, while the other hand weaves into my hair, tilting my head to give him better access.

Every brush of his fingers against my skin sends shivers racing through me, igniting a burning desire I can no longer ignore. I run my hands up his chest, feeling the strength in his muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt. My fingers trace over the defined contours, relishing the solid warmth of him. His chest and abs are firm, but there’s an underlying softness that invites me to explore further, to push the boundaries of what’s possible between us.

The kiss grows more passionate, more desperate, as if we’re both trying to convey everything we’ve felt but couldn’t say. My heart races, each thump echoing in my ears, urging me to hold on tighter, to pull him closer. I can feel the heat radiating off him, our bodies moving in perfect harmony as the kiss deepens into something raw and hungry.

Garrick’s hands move with a gentle but possessive touch, gripping my hips as he hovers above me, his body fitting perfectly against mine. It’s as if we were always meant to be this way, lost in each other’s embrace, with every kiss unraveling a new layer of longing and connection.

As we kiss, I feel a surge of confidence blooming within me. This is right—this connection, this spark between us. I pull him closer, my fingers threading through his hair, deepening the kiss as I lose myself in the moment. Time seems to stand still, the world outside fading away, leaving only Garrick and me in this cocoon of warmth and intimacy.

I never want to stop kissing Garrick. Each brush of his lips against mine sends waves of warmth radiating through me, igniting a passion I didn’t know existed. I get lost in the taste of him, the softness, the way he fits against me perfectly as if we’re two pieces of a puzzle finally coming together.

But eventually, the kiss softens, and I can feel him pulling away, breathless and heated. His hazel eyes, usually so calm and steady, are now dark with desire, filled with a fire that leaves me wanting more. I see the flush on his pale skin, the way his chest rises and falls rapidly, mirroring my own racing heart.

Garrick leans back slightly, though his hands remain resting on my hips, grounding us both in this moment. “We should... probably get some sleep,” he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly, filled with a mixture of longing and reluctance.

I can hear the unspoken words lingering in the air, the promise of more to come. “We can continue this later,” he adds, a teasing smile playing on his lips, as if he knows just how much he affects me.

A breathless laugh escapes me, the reality of what we’ve just shared sinking in. “Yeah, later,” I echo, feeling the heat radiate between us even as he pulls away fully.

The space between us feels both empty and electric, the remnants of our kisses hanging in the air like an unbroken promise. I watch him, heart pounding, already anticipating the next time our lips will meet, the next chance to explore this new, thrilling connection but knowing he’s mine and I’m his, sinking into his soft, Garrick smelling bed for the night. 

Fourth Wing Masterlist - To be made Comment to be added to tag list

[pvrkacciosan]

Breaks and Bruises

Summary: During a lesson on hand to hand combat, the reader receives a little more of a kicking than she bargained for, Bodhi is pissed to find her injured, having not admitted feeling for her he struggles to grasp with his panic for her safety.

Pairing : Bodhi Durran X Fem!Reader

Word count: unchecked.

Warning : swearing, angst, Bodhi losing his shit at Xaden, suggestive content towards the end, sexual tension,

Part 2

☽⋆❈⋆☾

You stood watching from the side, the mats in the middle of the room filled with bodies that danced around one another, matching hit for hit.

Xaden Riorson circled around the room, he was your Wingleader and one of the few third years present right now as almost the whole of second and first years were here sparring one another. Un unorthodox training session he had planned.

You observed from beside another group of first years all of you picking up ever snippet of information you could from the second years that fought before you.

Fighting stances, patterns, strikes. The older students did well, their bodies toned to become weapons bred for war.

You could be like that too, if you actually practised. The clipped tone of your dragon, Asralethia sided into your thoughts.

You should have put your shields up against Asra as Bodhi has taught you, but watching the other students bodies move in tandem to one another was a dance to be observed and respected. One which you just couldn't seem to look away from.

You have known Bodhi for years, and since arriving at Basgiath, bonding with Asra and surviving towards the end of your first year. You had managed to settle back into the relaxed nature of your friendship.

Not that you could just call it that. The older you both seemed to get the more you seemed to notice just how... Well how much you, desire Bodhi to be more then your friend.

Not that those thoughts had ever been shared beyond your own mind. Apprehension always got the better of you.

Perhaps if he-

You're always thinking about this boy, Focus girl. Asra's voice in your head brought you halting back into your own body once more. Present just as the girl in the mat before you flipped her opponent straight onto his back, his chest racked upwards as he tried to gulp air back into his lungs.

Get out of my head. You could sense Asra's snarl of disapproval rippled through the bond you both shared,

Get on one of those mats and I will. Your dragon's words were final and she seemed to build up her side of your shield.

When the guy on the mat at your front slapped a hand onto the padding beneath him, you tried to avoid Xaden's gaze.

He must have noticed you trying to slip away,

"Y/n you're up next, to the mat now"

You cast a scathing look towards him, Bastard. Xaden's answering smirk was an indicator that he knew exactly of your current thoughts. And found amusement within them.

You would have taken the chance to flip him off but the girl on the mat began to bounce on the balls of her feet, preparing herself as she looked you over once.

You didn't know her name, didn't know anything about her beyond her position as a third year, one of the few to attend this sparring today. She had made mince of the second year boy before you.

Stepping closer, you planted a foot into the circle, shifting to keep the space between your bodies for now, anticipating her movement.

When she didn't immediately swing for you, you feigned to the right, it did little more then rendering your own balance off centre.

Eyeballing from the side she waited for you to right yourself before moving, it was a tactic you should have foresaw and would have had you more time to prepare yourself.

Her balled fist collided with the side of her face, knuckles cracking into the bone of your cheek.

With shock you had little time to release yourself when she gripped your shoulders. Holding you in place as she brought her knees driving upwards into the line of your chest.

Even with the blood roaring in your ears you couldn't miss the sound of the surrounding group when they hissed in unison of your legs giving out under you. The collapse jolting you to your very senses.

Tensing the muscles in your legs, lower back and ass you spun on the mat using your opposite foot to push. Kicking for the girls feet.

Your shin connected with her calf, sending her to back flat land harshly against the surface of the mat. The air whoosing from her lungs with audible affect.

You danced away from her frame, the edge of the padding stopping you from backing up any further, you couldn't be pushed off. It never looked good, for anyone.

Xaden was circling the mats, keeping a close eye on where the two of you were sparring. The girl launched up from the ground, having caught her breath.

You knew she would come at you fast and hard but hadn't expected her to full on tackle you to the ground, trying to dodge it by stepping to the side, you only succeeded in putting yourself in an awkward position. When she collided with you, her shoulder had driven itself directly into your ribs,

Pain bloomed there but you hadn't any time to recover as you both went rolling to the floor.

With the weight of both your bodies you landed hard, the noise seemed to draw in more attention around the room. Other mats slowing to watch as this girl handed your ass to you on a plate.

It was a pathetic attempt to dislodge her from the position she had on you, straddling your torso she pinned your arms down one by one with her knees.

"Marked bastard" she leaned closer to spit the words in your face, her eyes narrowing on the relic swirling around your collar bone that rooted up from your arm.

Desperate to free yourself when she landed the first punch on your face. You could feel the warm rush of blood spilling from beneath the bone of your cheek.

Pushing all the effort you could into willing your muscles to work you drove your heel closer to your ass as much as you could, using the leverage it gave you to thrush your hips upwards.

Her face and upper body came flying towards your own, thrown off her own balance. You heard her curse as she tried to catch herself. Twisting your hips beneath her you used this moment to wiggle out from her grip turning to get upright.

She grabbed for you and despite you launching yourself out the way you felt her hand wrap around your forearm.

She jerked your arm back towards her before sharply twisting it. You screamed out as the muscles stretched to their limit,

Even with him across the room, you watched Xaden spin at the sound, wide steps eating up the space to come back to your mat.

"Cassandra!" His voice boomed but the girl didn't seemed to hear him, instead twisting hard on your arm.

The joint was screaming in protest, you tried to wiggle from her grasp, push against her but even the littlest of movements made you blanch with pain; white hot pain that send your vision rolling.

Somewhere in that time you had begun pleading with her to let go but still she refused to release you, Xaden was nearing the mat now, shadows swirling.

The pain only continues to build, until finally something gave way.

Something in your arm and shoulder ripped free and popped.

Cassandra dropped you in shock as she heard the audible sound that came from your joint, her eyes widening in surprise.

You had begun screaming at the pain that increased ten fold. You were aware of Asra speaking in your head but when you couldn't utter a response her end of the bond fell silent.

You ungracefully landed on the mat, good hand holding your injured shoulder. Breathing was becoming painful as you ribs which were clearly broken ached with even the smallest of movements.

You were struggling to see as the pain took everything, taking over every sense.

You would have cried out in pain when your whole body slumped forwards, giving your consciousness over to darkness.

- ❈ -

The pain was a dull ache, like a headache building behind your eyes. With the safety of darkness still blanketing your vision you could focus on the pain. Your face, shoulder and ribs, it had slowed the pain not as aggressive. Only when your blood pulsed did you shift in discomfort.

Still with your eyes closed you could only detect the noise of someone else moving when you did, someone sitting beside the bed.

"Y/n?" Heat bloomed in your core, you knew that voice anywhere. Peeling your eyes open and blinking to focus your vision.

Bodhi was up out the chair and beside you in seconds. He went to reach for your hand before stopping himself, expression shifting across the shadows on his face.

"I thought you said you weren't fighting today?" You could detect the concern in his tone, but he hadn't been there. Bodhi was supposed to have other duties to attend to today.

As though he spied your thoughts,

"Asra came to find Cuir when you stopped responding, she was worried about you" his face was clearly saying he too was worried.

He pinned you with his gaze, "What happened? I thought the first years were watching for today sparring tomorrow"

You nodded around the pain in your head that seemed to tether to the top of your spine.

"I thought I was doing alright considering she was third year. And -" you paused remember the words she had spat at you moments before she dislocated your shoulder.

Your hesitation only seemed to snag at Bodhi's attention, he brushed a knuckle across the top of your hand. Warmth coiled on the skin there.

Tell him. The tone of Asra's voice in your head left little room for debate. Even if you could detect the small degree of concern.

"She called me a 'marked bastard' while we were on the mats"

Bodhi sat up a little straighter. Out of many of the marked ones you always tried to be friendly to everyone despite their views on your group. It only seemed to anger him more at the thought.

"Who the fuck even let you on that mat?" He angrily drove his fingers through the dark curls on his hair. You would have got distracted by it if his expression hadn't shifted with utter rage.

"Y/n, who was it?"

The air lodged itself in your throat, you would hate to be the one that caused a fight between the cousins, despite their usual spats of disagreements. With the expression on Bodhi's face you could tell this wouldn't be like their usual arguments.

"Y/n-"

"Xaden."

You could see every inch of Bodhi go stiff. Eyes glazing over in thought, he was communicating with Cuir and you knew it.

Asra, where is Xaden do you know? You hesitantly asked,

The wingleader is on the flight field, she cuts her words off with a little more bite at the mention of Xaden.

Bodhi rose up from the chair and did something he hadn't done since you both were kids, without thinking and leaning closer Bodhi pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head.

"Bodhi-" the sudden act, stunned you silent.

"I'll be back shortly" he didn't say anything else before turning and walking out of the room.

You tried to push yourself up off the bed with one arm, but every muscle in your torso and spine rippled and screamed in protest.

Asra can you make sure they don't kill each other?. You let her hear the pleading in your tone.

I will keep your one safe. No promises for the Wing leader. It was clear to see exactly where she now stands with Xaden after he put you on that mat.

You couldn't only hope they didn't kill one another.

- ❈ -

Xaden had been hiding from his cousin on the flight field, he knew where Bodhi stood with his feelings on Y/n and he had no real reason as to why he put her on that mat. It was a mistake he shouldn't have made.

Bodhi was ignoring Cuir's encouragement as he strides onto the flight field passing the group from First Wing.

His tunnel vision was focused on the familiar figure near the centre of the field.

Speeding up his pacing, Bodhi reeled all his emotions as he drove back his arm. Xaden only turned quick enough to catch a quick glance of his cousin's fist before it collided with the side of his jaw.

He was sent rocking back as Bodhi scowled down at his cousin, going to forward another punch Bodhi swore out loud as Garrick intercepted and pulled him back.

"Get off me!" Garrick refused to let off, keeping his grip on Bodhi, the older boy had size on him and Bodhi would be stupid to swing for Garrick just to release himself.

There was a boom as two dragons landed nearby, a green and blue. Cuir and Asra. Y/n was probably keeping tabs by communicating through Asra. The blue watching every movement with a lethal precision.

Bodhi finally lifted both hands, palms wide in surrender. Garrick stalled a second before finally releasing him.

Xaden was rubbing at the bruise already blooming like blood along the bone. He wiggled his jaws, face contorting in discomfort.

Bodhi couldn't bring himself to care if it hurt. Xaden had put you on that mat. Couldn't think beyond the reasoning that you were hurt due to that fact.

"What the fuck Xaden?" He didn't need to elaborate further.

"I have no real reason for putting her on that mat" Xaden's head hung a little,

Bodhi looked ready to swing again, Garrick shuffled on his feet, arms folded across his chest firmly. A muscle built barrier to keep the cousins from ripping into each other.

"That's bullshit" Bodhi wouldn't even attempt to hide the anger in his voice, not when he knew both older boys knew his feelings towards you.

"I'm so-"

Bodhi scoffed shaking his head, "Don't even try to apologise. That girl called Y/n a marked bastard."

Bodhi knew it would anger them as much as it had him. You felt things more deeply then other marked ones, who's brash nature tended to defend themselves against petty name-calling. It always ate away at you.

Bodhi knew he was right as Xaden shifted, dropping his hand away from his face when Garrick shot him a gruff look.

The girl is trying to leave the room.

Bodhi glanced across to watch Cuir, his dragon shifted on her front legs, Asra beside her still watching with eyes narrowing in on Xaden, If Sgaeyl wasn't relaxed in the dried grass meter from Riorson, Bodhi might have expected Asra to bite Xaden's head off his shoulders simply from the way she watched him.

"I have to get back to Y/n." he stalked closer a step, Garrick seemed to let him take those inches closer,

"I don't care if you're my family or a Wingleader, You ever pull that shit again and I'll gut you where you stand."

Despite the weight of his words, Bodhi couldn't seem to bring himself to care what strain they put on his relationship with Xaden. Family or no, Wingleader or no. He shouldn't have put you on a fighting mat with a third year with way more experience than you. The resurfacing of those thought simply made his blood boil more.

Asra says the girl has made it to the hallway. Cuir still sounded as relaxed as ever,

Xaden seemed to nod in silent agreement, not reaching to stop Bodhi as he finally turned to leave. Garrick offered the younger boy a quipped smile before he turned towards his own dragon, which landed onto the flight field behind him.

Bodhi had begun walking back towards the building,

Where is she now? he asked of Cuir, knowing Asra would still be within communication reach.

Half way down the hall, her body is weakened. Do something. Cuir was clearly being edge on by your dragon, A demand most likely coming straight from Asra herself. Bodhi should have known you might have tried to come after him, if only to stop him from killing his own cousin.

I'm going. Cuir only seemed to chuff in his head,

Bounding back up the stairwell towards the dormitory, Bodhi slowed sensing you around the corner, funnily enough when he rounded the hallway he spotted you.

One arm brushing the wall for support, the other despite the sling it hung in, a hand was holding your side. The rib beneath screaming in protest of your movements and apparently your breathing as well. It was infuriating.

Bodhi shook off his anger with Xaden for now, you hadn't seemed to notice his approach yet. Stopping for a breather as your head swirled.

"You shouldn't be out of bed yet."

You glanced up at Bodhi, relieved to see him unharmed. You shouldn't have jerked your head up so suddenly, not ready for the sudden rush the blood would cause.

Your hand against the cool stone was the only thing tethering you, squeezing your eyes shut with a hiss of breath breaking through your clenches teeth you were vaguely aware of your body swaying.

"Y/n?" his voice was softer then usual, and closer then he had been moments before. Peeling both eyes open slowly, you could see the worry etched onto Bodhi's expression. His warm palms brushed your hip to limit the amount of swaying you did. Holding you in place, it was an effort to not gawk down at his hands.

You would have picked fun of him had you not believed you might pass out any second,

"Can you... Help me get back?" you pointed a finger behind you, in the direction of your dorm room.

"Of course."

You had been expecting him to loop your good arm over his shoulder and help you pathetically limp back down the hall. You hadn't mentally prepared yourself for him to wrap his arms around you, lifting you up off the ground.

You squeaked in surprise, Bodhi stiffens and you felt ever muscles along his chest and torso ripple with immediate affect.

"Sorry I didn't think... D-did I hurt you?"

There was a nervousness lining every edge of his body, It was an unusual characteristic for Bodhi. Even when he blinked down at you in worry, you struggled to push your words past the nervous lump forming in your throat.

"...no."

Bodhi very carefully adjusted his grip on you, the arm supporting your back pulling you closer into his chest, The one tucked under your knees tightened to keep your body as level as possible.

His warmth was encompassing your own, mixing to solidify the fact Bodhi Durran was now carrying you back to your room. Where he was going to lie you down on your bed, The thoughts that swirled your mind seemed to dull the ache of the injuries littering your body.

The bumps and bruises lost as you glanced up to watched him. The words stalled in you once more, as you became oddly aware of the tone muscles beneath his shirt. Your clothes being the only thing separating your hot skin from that direct contact you found yourself craving more and more.

"Is-" you swallowed hard, Bodhi continued walking slowing to let a couple other first years walk past. They eyed you up but said nothing, continuing on.

Bodhi glanced down at you, that usual unwavering confidence masking the nervousness that still clung to him like smoke.

"Is Xaden... Dead?" you couldn't help the hesitation in you. It hadn't been your intention for the two to fight.

Asra had filled you in on snippets of what was happening, but when you asked for the outcome she had fallen conveniently silent. The voices in your head convinced you it was your concern for the wing as a whole if Xaden were absent instead of Bodhi's personal welfare if he went head to head with the Wingleader that had you fighting the pain to leave your bed.

"He will live." Bodhi fought to bite back the word. 'Unfortunately', fearful it may give him away.

You nodded softly, hissing when the blood rush up the back of your head. The sound of your discomfort made him slow and pull you closer to him.

"Almost there." His voice had gone softer once more. As he rounded to the final edge of the hall. Slowing at your door he turned to push it with his back. It swung open, Moving inside he kicked it shut.

You glanced across. Noticing the much nicer interior,

"This isn't my room."

Bodhi moved across to the bigger bed,

"That's because it's mine."

Despite being friends long before every coming to Basgiath, you had never seen the inside of his room, never allowed yourself to get that close. Perhaps in fear of meeting another female inside or retreating our from within the dorm room.

When you went to question him, Bodhi smiles, rounding the edge of the chair

"My bed is far comfier," as if to prove his point, He began lowering you gently, the top sheet met your body first and the mattress under that sunk and molded to the lines of your body was utter bliss lifting your weight from the pressure of your injuries.

A moan of pleasure escaped you, one which you hadn't mean to release and Bodhi froze easing you onto the bed. As horror overtook you.

You had moaned right into his ear.

His face was inches from you, as he unraveled his arms from behind you.

"I know my bed was comfy, but didn't expect it to entice such sounds from you."

You face and body heated and you would have blamed it on the injuries and bruises around you, but the heat that built in your core you couldn't deny it.

Bodhi chuckled lightly, easing himself to sit away from you on the bed.

"I'm going to start accompanying you to sparring practise." That nervousness seemed to have eased away being replaced by something more you couldn't place.

"I could have taken on anyone else." The words were for yourself and him, unwilling to believe you had let yourself and your squad down with your weakness on the mats.

"Xaden shouldn't of had you fighting. Don't worry, It won't happen again." the utter conviction in his tone, it's unbreaking truth, shot shivers up your arm.

Bodhi gave you one final smile, easing up he places a soft kiss to your brow, the air stuttered out of you. You clamped your mouth shut to hide it. Sparing yourself anymore embarrassment for today.

"Get some rest Y/n."

You eased down as he began to move towards the door,

"Wait-"

Bodhi froze, glancing at you from over the curve of his muscled shoulder.

"Where will you sleep? I can't just take your bed"

Bodhi seemed to take a second,

"I'm fine with the chair for a few nights. You need the bed more."

And with those final words, Bodhi gripped the door, knuckles white as if leaving you in this room was a challenge. Nodding once he slipped out.

You sighed settling down into the bed. Letting the silence to calm the roaring he had enticed in your blood, setting it alight.

Outside the door Bodhi exhaled deeply,

When you had made that sound in his ear he had fought all restraint to keep himself from clinging to you for longer, it had taken all his fraying self restrain to leave that room.

Every inch of his skin felt tight with an invisible tension.

"Fine with the chair. Really?"

Bodhi settled his stare to glare at Garrick. The smirking bastard had his relaxed form leant against the opposite hallway wall. Brow raised in amusment.

Bodhi made his way towards him, passing Garrick who began making kissing sounds behind him.

Bodhi tried to hide his own amusement, playfully shoving Garrick's shoulder, as he followed him down the hall.

"Damn man, you're pussy whipped."

"Fuck off"

Garrick's bellowing laugh echoed down the hall.

Despite his defence of it all, Bodhi couldn't deny his friends teasing, he was well and truly fucked because if today's incident had taught him anything it was that he had fallen for you and he had fallen for you hard.

And as Bodhi went in search of Xaden, he couldn't find any part him that was unhappy by the situation.

Not one bit.

[scorpioriesling]

I (Almost) Don't Believe You

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Brennan x reader

Warnings: mutual pining, tiny mention of injury

Summary: It was already bad enough to find out your father and brother invaded your best friend's privacy; but sending you on a mission where it nearly killed her? Unbelieveable. What else is unbelieveable? The boy you'd fallen for so long ago would only be waiting for you on the other side...

SR’s Note: Um okay, as I am progressing through Iron Flame rn... like, Brennan is... ooh okay I am liking him quite a bit. He's helping ease the pain of loosing Liam (': Jokes, jokes... I don't think I'll ever get over that reality. Enjoy, lovelies.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

The hours you'd been counting seemed to blur together as exhaustion weighed heavily on your shoulders. Was it exhaustion? Maybe it was just guilt. After everything you'd seen and gone through today, differentiating the two was... well, near impossible.

Your dragon has been all but silent, giving you time as thoughts race through your mind. Would your best friend wake up? If she didn't, the male sitting to your left would be all but gone too. A male you've come around to, especially seeing the way your closest friend reacts in his presence.

Gods, you wished for something like that.

Violet stirrs, her brow furrowing and shoulders moving on the cot where she lay. Both you and Xaden lean forward instinctively at the same time, and he huffs a small laugh as he glances sidelong at you. The two of you haven't spoken much since the arrival, and you're sure his mind is racing just as yours is.

"Vi... I hope you wake soon, you have people who've been waiting forever to see you," Xaden whispers. Your heart warms at his words -- long gone is the fearsome Wingleader you'd met only a year ago, and his familiar warmth is graciously returned in Violet's presence. She rolls to her side, eyes squeezing closed as she lets out a wide yawn. Xaden is on his feet in an instant -- you're quick to follow, flanking to her bedside.

"Violet?" You whisper. Xaden extends his hand, brushing hair from her face as she slowly blinks her eyes open. You can practically count the emotions swirling in her green eyes -- the one she registers and lands on quickly though, is confusion.

"Xaden... Y/N..." She pushes to a sitting position, Xaden clutching her shoulders and helping her readjust. She rubs her eyes with the back of her hand, and looks around the room in confusion.

"Where... what is this?" She asks. Xaden sighs, hanging his head low. Her eyes meet yours in silent question, and you shrug. "Hey, I could ask the same thing. The more important thing right now is that you're awake..." You say.

"Awake and healing quickly," Xaden adds. His fingers have threaded through hers, and her confusion quickly turns to anger.

"Don't... don't think I've forgotten-" She yanks up the side of her shirt, revealing a dull purple bruise on her side. Angry black veins thread from the injury, and her gaze flicks back to Xaden.

"I haven't forgotten." Is all she says, and you feel sorry for Xaden. Sure; you're grateful your spitfire of a best friend is alive and well, but her gaze could cut right through him.

"I know." Is all he says, so hushed that you barely hear it. You nod once, and begin backing away from the bed.

"I'll... leave you guys for a while." You say. Xaden nods, and Violet shoots you a pleading glance. You can see her asking you not to leave her alone with him, but you know they have a lot to talk about.

You decide instead to head down the hallway outside the door, finding a kitchen shortly along your way. If you were going to give your friends space, you might as well do something productive. A million thoughts raced through your mind; where were you? Where were the others? How far from Basgiath were you? Not to mention the millions of thoughts plaguing your brain about your father, your brother; knowing what they were sending not only this section, but their own family into...

You shake your head. Productive. Rifling through the foreign cabinets, you look for something to make.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The afternoon sun is dipped low beyond the horizon, painting the sky in streaks of violet and navy as night falls. It didn't take long for the others to find you -- perhaps it was the smell of the dinner you'd scraped together that drew them in.

The first two days, Garrick or Bodhi were sent out to retrieve food for the group, and you decided by day three that you should lend a hand. After all, you'd been shown many house-chores like this over the years; your father never expected you to become a rider rather than a housewife, that is. Neither did your brother, and you knew he didn't like it one bit.

Your older brother Dain had always been protective over you; but his overprotection only intensified when your best friend's brother died, and he practically treated the two of you as though you were made of glass. When you'd braced the parapet, he looked ready to hurl, never expecting his little sister (or her fearless best friend, for that matter) to dare entering the rider's quadrant.

But, your appreciation for his overprotection died the moment he used his signet to send your section to certain death. Not only did he send you, his only sibling; but the girl he'd oogled over, swore so many times he loved with all of his heart, right along with you.

It didn't matter now. Everything was different.

"I don't know how you did it," Garrick smiles, sitting on the bench seat near the small dining table in the kitchen. "But you've got some skill, Y/N. I mean seriously, who scrounges all this up in a place they've never been, and produces such a delicious meal?" He shakes his head, shoveling a huge bite of stew into his mouth. You smile as Imogene makes her way into the space.

"Gods, I could simply kiss you for this," Bodhi follows her in, snatching up a bowl and waiting behind Imogene for his turn to scoop from the pot. You chuckle.

"You mean to tell me that you don't enjoy going out and hoping to return with food for us all?" You raise an eyebrow playfully, and before he can answer, Violet enters the kitchen. You instinctively make your way to her, and her pained smile emerges as she pulls you in for a light hug.

"How are you feeling?" Imogene chides, perching in a chair across from Garrick and looking Violet over. You let go of her, and she glances around to everyone.

"I'm... I'll be alright." She says, and you nod. Her eyes meet yours, and she quickly whispers, "We need to talk."

Your eyes widen, and you glance to the stove where the awaiting pot sits. "Violet, you haven't eaten in days-"

"It can wait." She rushes, taking hold of your wrist and all but dragging you into the hallway and out of earshot from the others. You glance around, and she sighs.

"Violet, I know you have questions; I mean, so do I, but-"

"Brennan is alive." She stares straight into your eyes, and a wave of adrenaline rushes over you at her words.

"Violet, what are you-"

"He's alive. He's here. Brennan. He's..." She fumbles, her hands clasping and releasing frantically. You place a hand on her shoulder lightly. "He's alive, Y/N." She says in finality. You shake your head, a small smile appearing on your lips.

"Violet, you might be thinking some wild things, they did give you a lot of medicine-" She grasps both of your shoulders with her hands, holding tight and giving you an incredulous look.

"Would I lie about something like this?" She whisper shouts. You furrow your brows at her.

"No! Gods no, I don't think you're lying, I just..." You shrug defeatedly. "He's been dead for six years, Vi. The last time we spoke of him..." Your throat tightens at the memory. "His soul was being condemned to Malek." The way the fire sparked as his belongings were thrown in. The way Violet cried for weeks, you sleeping in her room with her for sheer comfort. The way your heart tightened every time you thought of the way he used to look at you; his soft voice, so contrasted against his mother's uniformed nature. The way he'd lend you his books, sitting and talking with you for hours on end...

"Fine. Go see for yourself." She gestures down the hallway, the countless doors fading to dark as it stretched on. "Fifth door on the left. He's probably still in there." She says. You sigh, looking to her once more.

"Violet-"

"I'm going in to eat." She walks through the kitchen entryway once more, leaving you alone in the hallway. You sigh, wiping your clammy hands on your pants. You head down the hallway, counting the doors as you go. One, two, three... four...

You stood, face-to-face with the fifth wooden door, the only sound this far down the hall was your ragged breaths. You swallowed, raking your fingers through your hair as you remembered you'd been wearing the same, disgusting leathers for three days. If he really was on the other side of this door, you hated that the first thing he'd see of you in six years was... well, not your favorite look.

You knock softly, and the door creaks open. You hastily shove it open, breath catching as you peered around the room. The empty room, that is. Moving inside, you took in various things; tons of papers, many books, quills and ink pots upon the desk-

Your breath catches in your throat as you spot a tome that you'd recognized. It was one Brennan gave to you all those years ago, when you were nothing but a teenager with a crush. Your heart still fluttered at the feeling, the ache in your heart as fresh as it was the day he died.

You huff, not sure why you expected anything but this. VIolet was on many remedies, and there was no world in which a man that had died would come back to life, no matter how convincing your best friend sounded.

A small knock sounds on the door behind you, and your head whips around from the papers you'd begun staring at. Your heart immediately seizes as your eyes meet those familiar brown irises you'd longed for, for so, so long.

"Y/N?" Brennan whispers, and you can't help the immediate sting of tears behind your pupils as you look him up and down. It felt surreal; his cream-colored button down is only buttoned up half way; his fitted trousers outlining every muscle along his masculine legs. Your hand flies to your mouth as you gasp, the words choked behind a sob rising in your throat.

"Brennan?" You stutter, and his eyes widen as he immediately surpasses the door way. You don't stop yourself from stepping quickly toward him, throwing your arms around his neck as a soft cry escapes your lips. He was real. He was really real, he had to be. The ends of his brown curls, longer now than when you'd seen him last, tickle your forarms as you pull him close. His arms wrap tightly around your waist, lifting you on to your tip toes as he stands at his full height.

You can't contain the tears flowing from your eyes as you breathe him in deep; his familiar scent of cedar and cotton bringing you back to all of those special moments you'd shared before; sitting close, sharing stories and thoughts. All of those almosts.

Before he …died, anyway.

You pull back to look up at him, but he doesn't release you. Instead, his fingers card through your hair, stroking lovingly as he continues his embrace. You shake slightly, allowing every emotion taking over your mind to run free. You never thought you'd see, feel him again. All of your greif receeding as you accept the reality that you had only ever dreamed of.

"Y/N I'm... I'm so sorry." He whispers. You cry harder, only wishing he'd keep talking and convincing you this was real. But, you forced yourself to believe it was; the boy you loved, now in front of you once more, holding you, physically touching you-

"Gods, I missed you so much." You retreated from his hold, his hands still braced on your hips as your watery eyes bore into his. Taking him in, you realized he was different. Older. No more was the boy you'd been in love with six years ago; now before you, was a man. A handsome one, nonetheless.

"I... I don't..." you stutter, and a small smile braces his lips as his soft hands brush the few stray tears from your cheeks. "I... I don't know what to say." You admit, and his thumb brushes along your cheekbone.

"Well... at least you're saying something," he says, chuckling softly. The sound is like music to your ears, a sound you hadn't heard in so long. "I was afraid Violet would shread me with one of her daggers when I tried talking to her." You swallow, your gaze drifting to his mouth as he spoke.

"I... I don't say I could blame her," you say softly, your eyes reconnecting with his as shame takes over his expression once more. He sighs, the hands on your waist falling as he takes a step back. You immediately wish he wouldn't have, already hoping to be back in his embrace as soon as you could.

"Look, Y/N, I..." his eyes peer at the wall above you, as he seems to contemplate his words. "I never meant to hurt anyone, alright? I had to do it because-" You step forward, taking his hand in yours. You stare up at him longingly, shaking your head that this was all truly real.

"You can explain it all later," you say, and his mouth closes. You can't help but take in the familiar slant of his nose, his more defined jawline, the golden planes of his skin...

"You can't keep staring at me like that, Aetos." His voice has dropped so low it’s almost gravelly, as his gaze darkens upon glancing toward your mouth. You grin, your deft fingers unlacing his and moving to slide thorugh the mass of curls on his head softly.

"I'm just... I'm really, really happy you're okay." You whisper. His hands slide around you, finding purchase along the small of your back. You suck in a breath as he pulls you against him once more, and you spot the tears pooling along his waterline at your words.

"I thought you'd hate me," he whispers, his breath a gentle caress down the slope of your nose. His perfect lips, ones you'd pined over for years were so, so close. So... real. His chest lets out uneven breaths pushed up against yours, and your nerves threaten to eat you alive as you raise to your tippy toes once more to be eye-level with him.

"I don't think I could ever hate you, Brennan." He smiles, the motion only growing as your eyes search his once more. His perfect teeth are still the same; the sparkle in his eye, the way he chuckles softly. It's as if you're transported back in time.

"I didn't think I could love you more than I did the last day I saw you." A single tear slips, and your quick to catch it with your finger. As you retract your hand, his fingers are quick to curl around yours, holding your hands against his heart. Your brows knit in confusion as you lower your heels, but his grasp on you does not falter.

"You're..." you start. His hand caresses your cheek, guiding you as close to his lips as you could get without touching. Your heartbeat races as his thumb traces soft circles on the back of your hand pressed to his heart. His heartbeat picks up at the closeness, and you can't help but smile. Whether its anxiety, fear, pure love... you've never been quite the expert at sorting out your feelings anyway.

"I'm …what?" He whispers, and you can't stand it any longer. You lean up, pressing a hesitant kiss to his lips. He stills, and you pull back, eyes as wide as his in shock.

"I'm so sorry, I-" He tugs you close again, your mouth colliding with his as he kisses you more forcefully. He keeps kissing you, both of his hands now cupping your face as yours grab onto the unbuttoned collar of his shirt. His lips part, allowing you access at your own pace; but you're quick to oblige, sliding your tongue along his bottom lip. A soft groan escapes his throat, and you inhale through your nose sharply at the sound. He's definitely more grown up than he was six years ago; more confident too. Gone was the shy, 19 year old who’d been deemed “too old” for you back then — now, he didn’t seem to mind the 5 year age gap now that you’d finally turned 20.

You continue indulging, before the strike of the clock from the hallway sounds. He doesn't seem to care as he explores your mouth; hands continuing their exploration, too. As the quiet overtakes the room once more, you finally pull back, gasping for air as he smirks down at you.

"I've waited… so long for that," he says, and your face heats. Little does he know, so have you. “Not coming back to find you, tell you I was alright was so hard, Y/N.” He leans back in for more, but you turn so his lips connect with your cheek instead.

"Oh, nuh uh," you hum. "You've got some explaining to do first before any of..." you motion between the two of you. "...this, continues." He rolls his eyes (glad to know he hasn't changed all that much), and backs up, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Okay, okay." He says. "I have to be in a meeting, uh..." He glances quickly at his watch. Your eyes track the movement; wishing his delicious fingers were holding you close again. "Uh, now, actually." He laughs sheepishly.

"Better get to it, then." You fold your arms over your chest, tilting your chin up in mock confidence. His hand slides along your jaw one more time, and he gazes down into your eyes.

"Later, we'll talk. I promise," he says. You continue your confident expression as his hand retreats, and he heads for the door, leaving it open behind him. You wait a few seconds before you follow behind him, but freeze as you enter the hallway and are met with a familiar stare you've come to know all too well. Leaning against the wall is your best friend, a smirk so similar to her brothers plastered on her face as she pins you with an accusatory look.

"I told you he'd be in there."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

[callsign-rogueone]

keep her safe - g.t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Enough,” Emeterrio commands.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine,” he spits, “I yield.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sigh. Maybe she’s right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s what executive officers are for.”

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

He sighs. “Fine. Don’t go anywhere.”

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

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

/////////

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

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

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

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

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

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

He startles, his foot slipping on the mat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good. Aetos, you first.”

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

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

“What do you see?” Varrish asks.

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

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

“Your turn, Avan."

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

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

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

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

“And then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you ever killed before, gentle one?”

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

“Not all of us.”

“Holy shit, you can read my mind.”

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

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

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

“Hold on.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You give him a look.

“Okay, fine. I take that back.”

He doesn’t. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well done. Aetos?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Garrick Tavis is a man of his word.

[nomie-11]

Liam Mairi x Reader - The Curse of Farsight

masterlist!

Migraines had become an integral part of Liam’s life since he developed his signet. His eyes hurt, his head hurt, and all the bright lights and small noises felt like knives twisting in his mind as he trudged down the hallway. 

Head throbbing, he just let his feet take him one step after another down the winding, narrow hallways of Fourth Wing First-Year dorms. He wanted to be in her arms, in her bed, as her cold hands ran over his back in soothing circles.

Liam’s vision blurred as he turned a corner, his breath shallow, each step an effort. The migraines were getting worse, more frequent as he trained his signet. The curse of farsight was something he hadn’t expected and hadn’t been able to fully escape. Yes, seeing far was a blessing in battle, but in everyday life it was a storm he couldn’t outrun. It was a constant, grinding pressure, leaving him dizzy and disoriented. 

But there was one place where the pain dulled. Over person who could ease the ache, even if just for a moment. 

He reached her door, the familiar weight of her presence pulling him in like a magnet. He knocked once, softly, and waited. A moment later, the door swung open, and there she stood—her eyes warm, her expression soft but worried when she saw him. 

“You’re here,” She sighed, stepping aside for him to come in. “You look terrible.” 

He grimaced a small smile, his hand squeezing hers as he shuffled in past her, shedding his layers of swords and leathers onto the floor quickly before flopping down onto her bed. “‘M sorry,” he said, words muffled by the covers. “Head’s killing me.” 

He sighed as, with a flick of her hand and a display of superior control of lesser magic, the blinds on the windows drew shut and the mage lights dimmed. 

He felt the mattress dip as she climbed in next to him, her cool hands from an ice wielding signet brushing the hairs from his forehead. 

“Didn’t we talk to Xaden about your head and maybe taking it easy in training for a little?” She murmured, fingernails dragging slow circles over his skin.

Liam let out a long, slow exhale, rolling onto his side to face her, his eyes bleary but full of gratitude. “Yeah, but I can’t. Need to keep up. Can’t just… stop.” He closed his eyes, wincing at the throb in his temple as he whispered, “But this—this helps.” He relaxed as her cool fingers traced gentle patterns along his jaw, down his neck, the chill of her touch dulling the sharp edge of his headache. 

After a few moments of silence, he rolled onto his back, then onto his stomach, pressing his face into her shoulder, his arm coming to drape around her waist. She stifled a laugh. “Liam, what are you doing?” she asked, voice laced with amusement. 

“Getting comfortable,” he murmured, voice muffled against her. “Hope you don’t mind if I just…” he shifted a little, laying completely on top of her with a satisfied sigh, his cheek resting against her shoulder. She could feel the warmth radiating from him as he nestled in, her own cold skin contrasting with his as if he were a living blanket. 

She smirked, giving a playful sigh of resignation. “Well, I guess I’m stuck here now,” she said, feigning exasperation as she brushed her fingers gently through his gorgeous blonde hair. She felt the chill of her hand sink deeper into his skin, soothing the heat pulsing at his temples, her touch melting him into a state of calm. 

Liam let out a small, contented groan, shifting slightly so that the flushed skin of his face rested on the cool skin of her exposed neck. “You’re like my own personal ice pack,” he murmured, pressing his forehead into the crook of her neck. “If I ever get a say in anything, I’m picking you to follow me everywhere.” 

She laughed softly, tracing her fingertips over his temples, gentle enough to quiet his ache. “I don’t think Xaden would approve of me being your portable headache remedy, but… I suppose he would have to make an exception.” 

“Good,” he replied with a faint, sleepy grin, his voice soft and warm. “Because I’m not going anywhere. You’re perfect just like this.” He shifted his weight just a little, wrapping himself around her even more tightly, his breathing slowing as the headache’s sharp pangs finally ebb away. 

As his breath evened out and his weight settled comfortably over her, she felt a smile tugging at her lips. The warmth he radiated felt like a gentle fire melting away her perpetual chill, and she knew—just as much as he needed her cold touch, she needed his warmth, here in the quiet safety of the darkness and silence of her room. 

-------

If you enjoyed this one shot, please check out my other series!

Taglist: @awkardnerd , @hannraumari , @minjix , @glaciuswduo , @wolfbc97 , @heeseungthel0ml

[velvetlilacsdaisies]

Fourth Wing Men HCs: nicknames for him

Includes: Bodhi Durran, Garrick Tavis

A/n: I haven’t wrote some headcannons in a HOT minute, but me and @garricks4thwingqueen have been conspiring and inspired me to take a whack at it again. These got a smidge long, so I will make a part 2 with more characters, and other scenarios, but you know who had to start with! I also included some AI pics I’ve been cooked up that are mashes of my fancasts ideas for the characters. I have the hardest times visualizing a lot of characters and places in stories and sometimes the AIs I’ve seen all look alike or aren’t itching the right part of my brain. Disclaimer: I tried to take into consideration book accuracy, but AI is AI and I only dabble w it on my phone. So I’ll take what I can get. Skin tones, hair, proportions may not be perfect. These just personally help get a better concept, and I find fun to make, and anddd risking forgetting about a free 7 day trail from time to time 🕳️🤸‍♀️ *muah* enjoy!

Warnings: swearing, underage drinking/smoking (if u squint), suggestive content

Bodhi Durran

Bo/Boh, beau, bowie, Bo Bo, babe, love

Xaden and him are maternal cousins. While the firstborn always had the weight of responsibility growing up being an heir by his parents. The younger cousin was always ‘coddled’ by his. Though he adored his family, he hated how they always doted on him. Mainly because of how much his older cousin and his best friend would tease him about it.

Xaden and Garrick started cooing “Bowie” and “Bo Bo” at him when they were 12, he was 11.

“Bowie, don’t forget to write to me.” “Bowie, be good for your uncle.” “Oh Bo Bo don’t you look so handsome today!” They’d snicker to him under their breaths when he’d arrive at the fortress when his mom would drop him before flying out to an outpost. Watching how his cheeks flushed red, and he had tight balled fists pressed at his sides.

Once the doors closed, after formal introductions with his Uncle and lingering personal staff were done, and once the adults a room away—he would hurl one of his clenched fists at their shoulders.

Starting a playful brawl amongst the three

Spoiler alert: Bo Bo back then lost once or twice…maybe a handful of times

Then as awkward teenagers when problems were simpler the three of the pubescent boys discovered churam and drinking. Bodhi started unironically calling himself Bo Bo and Bowie, mockingly teasing himself as a ‘bit’.

The young men were sat around a fire in the clearing to the outside of Riorson House. Xaden and Garrick in a heated debate over a petty topic. “Bo Bo can’t comprehend what’s going on right now.” He would say, exaggerating and scratching his the top of his head. It had been effective for the most part to ease the tension between his friends

Now from time to time, he’ll still do it especially if you’re present. He always thought you looked cute as you shook your head with a crooked smile spread across your face when he did it

Sometimes fhd guys would find him doing something badass, you’ll hear triumphant whooping from Xaden and Garrick, endearingly using the nicknames they called him as a child

“Go Bowie!” “Bo Bo that was fucking awesome!” “Bowie! Bowie! Bowie!”

But if anyone else besides the select few called him those names, he’d glare daggers at them. Like the time Ridoc tried to call him Bo Bo during lunch while the group was joking around

Bodhi’s boyish grin disappeared instantaneously. “If you ever call me that, I will rip your tongue out.”

The first time he heard you call him Bowie tho, he nearly melted. It was one of the first times you slept over with him and he had to get up early for a leadership meeting

You propped up on elbow, using your other hand to wipe the sleep from your eyes. “Do you have to go, Bowie?” A small pout on your lips watching him get dressed

His other pet names from you were selective, usually just calling him Bo/Boh, but your favorites were Babe and Love

Babe being the one you leaned towards the most

especially when you would catch him doing something ridiculous or he’d press your buttons. Or just when you wanted something

“Babe? Are you kidding me?” “Babe stop!”

“Babe can you get me another drink, please?” You asked, looking up from your lashes with puppy dog eyes. He folded every time no matter if you were closer to the serving station or bar. How could he say no when you gave him that look? Not caring, flipping all his friends off as they’d give him knowing smiles.

He was a simp for you

Love was usually reserved for tender moments with him. When you’d notice he’d be having a bad day, or to calm him down when you’d notice he was fuming silently beside you at something going on

Intertwining your fingers with his giving a reassuring squeeze. “It’s alright, Love.”

Or holding his cheeks, bringing him to eye level with you. “I’m here, Love. Can you take a couple deep breaths for me?”

Sometimes you broke out the corny double entendre of beau. Very select people would get it, but you thought it was great

Mainly you’d be out to the taverns with your friends when you’d use it. Usually when a girl would approach him, and you’d try to hide your jealousy tho it was plain as day

“He’s actually my beau.” You’d say, a sinisterly sweet smile on your face when a girl tried to introduce herself. Your hand twirling the curls at the nape of his neck. Bodhi would always shiver from the gesture, trying to contain his arousal at your possessiveness

Then later in the night, he’d pin you to the wall of his room. Pressing feverish kisses up the column of your throat. “Are you gonna show me all the way I’m your beau?” He muttered before grazing the delicate skin with his teeth

Garrick Tavis

Gare, Tavis, Gary, Gare Bear, Hon/Honey, Sir

His parents tried to call him Gary at one point growing up, but he always ignored them or begged them not to call him that. It always sounded so stupid to him

Garrick was blunt, dry, and straight to the point not caring for nicknames. Only really preferring to be called by his name or Gare on occasion by his friends and acquaintances. His last name an even better alternative than a nickname

But Xaden, Imogen, and Bodhi took a sick pleasure in all the creative corny nicknames his parents would try to make a thing for him growing up.

“I think we oughta get Gary’s input?” Imogen leaned her chin in her hand as they all discussed weekend plans after school looking over at the towering young man. The side of her mouth crookedly lilting upward, knowing she struck a nerve. Garrick could already feel his eye twitch, clenching his quill as he acted like he hadn’t heard them a few feet away at the table in the library.

“It seems Gare Bear’s not in the mood today.” Xaden would casually lean back in his chair, smirking, and watching his best friend stroll into the dining room late for dinner time after a terrible day

Which would result in Garrick walking by, and tipping his chair back causing the Riorson to flail and fall backwards. “Relax asshole,” Xaden hissed, rubbing his head.

To this day they still called him the silly names. Taking immense pride when you had picked up on the memo, and started to call Garrick the names he despised. Especially because you two weren’t each others favorite people at first

The first time it happened, it was when Garrick pissed you off. He had been criticizing all your sparring movements, and you had enough. “Sorry we can’t all be perfect like you, Gare Bear.” You’d sneer, watching the irritation form on his face.

“Do not call me that.” He’d glower, but you’d just smile brightly. “Whatever you say…Gare Bear.”

Seeing how it got under his skin, from that moment on you’d always call him just to pester him. Enjoying the glare he’d shoot your way or awaiting for whatever witty remark he’d reply

Eventually once you two started getting along, you called him his first name, being more considerate towards his feelings. Garrick’s chest filling with disappointment as he awaited the usual Gare Bear falling from your pretty lips.

“Hey Garrick,” it was a rare moment when you found him by himself. None of your mutual friends around for once, and one of the first interactions you had alone. “What?” He looked up from what he doing. “I said hey?” You gave him a weird look. “But you called me Garrick.” He said in disbelief. “That’s your name isn’t it?” “You always call me Gare Bear tho.”

That’s when you realized he secretly liked it despite him trying to act annoyed at you.

Then when you had officially started dating, he had to get used to fact you loved calling him all these terms of endearment. Deep down, loving how you could make him become bashful by your words

“Here you go, Honey.” Leaning down, kissing his cheek, setting down a dish of apple crisp in front of him. You knew how much he liked the dessert and grabbed an extra one when getting your dinner. Garrick’s cheeks tinged red and chuckled appreciatively, “you’re the best.” His friends just silently stared as if you two had three heads. “What’s the matter?” You asked the group unphased, taking a seat. “You broke him.” Imogen replied in awe.

You had changed his perception on being called nicknames. Even letting it slide when his friends poked fun at him with the once despicable nicknames

Out of all the nicknames you called him, his favorite by far was the one you’d use in the bedroom.

“Please,” you begged, while sitting on your knees. “Please what?” Garrick gripped your chin between his thumb and forefinger. You gulped, “please Sir.” A cruel smirk on his face, pressing a small kiss to your lips. “Good girl.”

[marshmellowrio]

Semblance of Control | Masterlist

A Fourth Wing fanfic.

A/N: Here's the aesthetic for my new fanfic on Fourth Wing along with a sneak peek preview of the dialogue. When I post a new chapter, you'll also be able to find them here. I'll also update my Masterlist to include both this story and Flight of the Night.

Disclaimer: I do not own these pictures, nor do I own Fourth Wing. Those rights go to Rebecca Yarros. However, the story of my character and how she is interwoven into the story is all mine.

"Are you insane?" My breath catches in my throat. I can almost hear the laughter in his voice as he responds, "Do you really want me to answer that, love?"

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

I gasp at the quiet. The void. And drop to my knees, not caring Xaden is right beside me, trying to hold on to me.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

"Oh, so I'm second choice? All right, I see how it is." She winks and the two of them laugh.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

"If you want to fight me, just say so. You don't have to be mean about it."

Last update: 09/13/2024 Total chapters: 4

★・・・・・・★

Chapter 1 05/08/2024 Chapter 2 05/25/2024 Chapter 3 06/10/2024 Chapter 4 09/13/2024 Chapter 5 - in progress

★・・・・・・★

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

𝐺𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑐𝑘 𝑇𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

His girl

Silent worry

We're in this together

Christmas lights

No longer yours to keep (part II)

Dragon weeks

Scream it why don't you

My terror

Cupid

When?

Constellations

Little sister

Hurt

For what it’s worth (brother Garrick)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[angstywaifu]

Ridoc: You're like our cool dad. Xaden: I'm not your dad. Ridoc: Dear diary, today we were disowned by our own father. Garrick: Father. Xaden: Not you too, Garrick. Garrick: Father. I crave murder.

[illshakeyouallnightlong-dean]

Take Me To The Sun (Pt. 2)

Part 2 is here! :) Here you can read part 1.

Just a little angst before we get to the good stuff.

It’s been 10 days. 10 days of agony, of turmoil and regret and anger - so much anger. I’m the only third year left. I’m expected to carry on my co-section leader responsibilities as if the absence of Garrick is a minor inconvenience. The early sun rises with a flourish of pinks, reds and oranges and all I can do is relish in this fleeting moment of peace. 

No one seems to care or notice that they aren’t back yet. I can’t help but seek comfort from Rathnait, my only anchor since the moment we left Basgiath. A warmth of what I could only describe as security floods down the bond. 

We can’t worry about things that haven’t been confirmed yet, flare. She knows my true questions, the things that I can’t bring myself to ask or think about. You must think about today, where we will go. Graduation day. I would be assigned to my outpost today, and by this evening I would be gone, my journey at Bagaith over. Turning away from the river, I make my way towards the flight field. The few third years left of this school congregate, awaiting as Colonel Aetos and Commandant Pancheck begin the assignments. 

“Congrats on graduating, Section Leader. It is a shame that Wingleader Riorson and Section Leader Tavis aren’t here to accompany you.” Colonel Aetos nearly sneers at the mention of Xaden. The obvious disdain is unsettling as he rifles through different papers. “Ah yes, your assignment. Due to your signet and the savagery of your red swordtail - you’re being assigned to the eastern wing…specifically, Samara.” He grins at me, almost maniacally as if the post is a joke. Rathanit snarls in my mind, rage igniting the very blood in my veins but all I can do is take the papers from his hand, saluting in acknowledgement. 

Where are you, Ray? My hands tremble, crushing the papers beneath my hold as I make my way quickly towards my room. 

I’ll be there soon, flare. Unless you need me now? 

I halt in the middle of the empty hall, knowing in a matter of moments the rest of the cadets will be awake to get into formation. Pressing the heels of my hand into my eyes, I can’t help but rest my back against the cool stone. 

Samara is the front line. Trying to get the ever rising beat of my heart under control, I must not panic. I am a rider. 

Are you afraid, flare? I shudder at her question, not wanting to admit the fear, the panic. But I know that she can feel everything, hear all that I think. 

They aren’t here. He isn’t here. A whimper escapes my lips, the reality of it all just crashing down like rubble. I will be going to Samara, there is no avoiding it, there is no changing it. While I had spent years trying to survive Basgaith, I would be sent to one of the most active posts in the region. I wouldn’t see Garrick. 

“Section Leader? Ar-are you ok?” Dain Aetos stands before me, hands out as if approaching a scared animal. “We need to get to formation,” I don't hate the kid, knowing that following the straight and narrow path is the life that is meant for some people over others. However, that doesn’t mean I want him to see me having a mental breakdown. Giving him a small nod, I manage to get myself to stand before fully looking at the Squad Leader. Something’s wrong. My own senses are beginning to go haywire. My signet. Only Xaden and Garrick knew. Command and Bagaith are under a different impression as to what it is. The manipulation and detection of emotions however was a daily venture, there was no turning it off, there was only controlling it and questing it and right now Dain Aetos was a mess. 

“I would ask you the same thing, what’s wrong?” I question him, dusting off my flight leathers. I don’t miss the way he flinches at my question, his hesitancy. “Do I have to give an order to know?” 

Taking a deep breath, he stands tall despite the sorrow in his eyes, “Xaden and the rest of the squad he took with him are being declared dead at formation.” I startle myself at the immediate sob that escapes my lips. “Leadership has been looking and there is no sign of them.” Feeling the agony of his own loss, it feels as if a tidal wave has pulled me under. The roaring from Rathnait in my brain feels as if it will explode any second. Dain’s grief, his regret all barrel into me with no filter, no shield. Rathanit’s confusion and rage down the bond. My own sorrow, my own heartbreak. There is no stopping it. There just is feeling it. Unaware of the stream of tears that roll down my face, the taste of salt jolts me out of the shock, the horror. 

“Round up everyone, squad leader. I’ll be at formation in a moment,” I murmur, the assignment papers feeling like large weights in my hand. He turns away to head towards the Quadrant, “Dain,” I call out, sounding like a garbled mess. “Thank you for telling me.” His own eyes glisten with unshed tears as he nods. 

My flare. I hear her call out, though to reach out seems like so much energy, all I can do is let her in with no barriers, allowing her to be there in the comfort of my mind. I’m coming, flare. 

Standing at the bottom of the stone dias. Everyone in formation, I don’t bother to look around. There is no one here to look for anymore. There is no Wingleader, there is no co-section leader - there is just me alone at the front. I didn’t bother to look at my squad, not being able to look at their questioning looks. I was known for being put together, not a hair out of place, no rumpled leathers, no dirt unless necessary. I’m sure the current state of me was a shock. Strands of hair fell in front of my face, eyes dry and cheeks raw from the tears. 

Captain Fitzgibbons overlooks formation, reading off the death roll. “Violet Sorrengail.” A moment of silence as all eyes look to the stoic face of General Sorrengail. “Garrick Tavis.” My heart feels as if it bleeds on the very floor I'm standing on, flinching harshly at the reading of his name. “And Xaden Riorson.” Captain Fitzgibbon’s voice rings out echoing around the quadrant. “Well this is awkward,” a voice calls out. Gasps are heard around the quadrant, even command seems unsettled by what’s happening. My knees seem to be locked in place, unable to turn around and see what is going on. My breaths turn into small gasps of air - no no no it can’t be, I’m dreaming. Dain said. I need to wake up. Heavy footsteps approach behind me, and two individuals take up position on either side of me. A calloused hand brushes against my own.

[pvrkacciosan]

Secrets and Sex

Summary: After your training session with Bodhi had gotten rather... Heated and progression was inevitable. The desire for one another didn't stop there, but keeping it hidden from your friends may have been more pointless than you realized.

Pairing: Bodhi Duran x Marked Fem! Reader

Word count:

Warnings: 18+ , !NSFW!, explicit smut scenes, swearing, submissive Bodhi It was an accident I apologise for nothing

A.N: I Definitely got carried away with this...

Part 1 | Part 2

☽⋆❈⋆☾

It has been a little over a week since your initial training session with Bodhi and since then, the tether of tension between you both only seemed to tighten. Ensnaring and constricting until it left you both panting and pining after one another, on more then one occasion.

Today was no different, Bodhi has sought you out this morning, as everyone has been on the move for breakfast, capturing you in the hallway and pulling you away to slip into the shadows.

His mouth has been on your own before you could even voice a single word. Not that you had minded in the time. It had been reckless, in the sense anyone in the College could have walked upon you two, the thrill of being caught giving you a shot of adrenaline.

Especially if your friends found out, you weren't sure why you had hidden this... Thing with Bodhi, you'd known him for years and it wasn't exactly like Violet and Xaden had hidden their affections for one another.

But they were more? Where they not, you were just sleeping with Bodhi, Right? No string attached. He was attractive, you were beyond the point of denying that fact, but there wasn't anything else to it.

The first time you'd gotten together, it had been a heated training session and tension was running high on both ends. And even after he had been inside you, tongue and cock, after all that when you left to go back to your own bed that night you had merely concluded it had been a heat of the moment act.

But what about every time after that?

The thoughts were dizzying, and you could almost be mad at him for getting you this bothered after your morning make our session. Unable to think beyond his touch, the way he could make your body give everything it had to offer and in turn, you could make him crawl. Nervousness had wracked you the first time you took control, but Bodhi had seemed more keen and interested the more you denied him. Keeping him pining until you decided what he could have and when he could have it.

You would never guess your best friend would be for giving into the submission of letting you lead him through his pleasures. It didn't happen every time you guys slept together, but when it did. Let's just say it always worked into your favour when he turned his attention to you.

Breathing deeply you slouched into your seat on Asra's back, the warmth of her reptilian body radiating beneath you.

You humans and your fickle feelings.

Asra's voice in your head was subtle this time, drifting in through the swarm of thought clouding your mind.

"They are called emotions." You grated out aloud, no need to communicate through your thoughts when you knew she could hear you perfectly well up here. In the skies above the War College, away from the bustle of noise below.

It had become your safe haven, in the clouds the cold air nipping your exposed skin, a deliberate act on your part, to leave parts exposed to feel the winds bite.

You can be easily broken by them. They are fickle.

Taking a second to extend a thought to her words, the thunder of your own pulse in your ears drowning out the sound of the wind ripping your hair from the braid that whipped at your spine.

If you are to love him so be it. Love hard, or hate. Simple. You are a dragon rider, you have no time for fickle feelings which take up your time.

You did not require any further poking from her, you knew she spoke of Bodhi. But did you love him?

Yes, You were insanely attracted to him and when he fucked you, Seven hells it was the best you ever had, but...was that love?

You had been friends since you were young and had spent many years stuck in that station of friendship and after that training session nothing has changed between you, other than the nights you spent many nights exploring one another in the most intimate of ways.

With every pounding thought you always rounded back to the same insistently annoying question which left your stomach hollowing out inside you, Were you in Love with Bodhi Durran?

You're doing it again. Your dragons tone was flat in your head, void of all irritation or feeling

When you both finally lowered beneath the cover of the clouds, your eyes began scanning the grounds below. Your attention instantly attracted to where a familiar Green dragon perched. Watching you descend, her rider relaxed between her front legs.

Steeling your thoughts you said nothing more in the topic, voiding all notions of Bodhi from your mind as Asra began circling the college flight field. Decending downwards in a dive that has you squeezing your thighs against her and tucking yourself behind her neck to avoid being ripped away by the wind.

Gripping to your senses you braced for the impact of Asra connecting the ground. Waiting until the dust cloud to blow away before sliding over her shoulder and down her leg.

Turning, you began inspecting Asra's chest. Searching the areas she couldn't to make sure there wasn't any cuts or wounds that might have occured during the flight manvours before you both flew off in a private flight session.

Despite being a mutual routine you did after each flight, you were fumbling trying to ignore the attention you felt watching your back.

The only warning you got for his approach was a low snarl from Asra which rumbled above your head.

Gentle moving hands slide around your waist. The contrast in heat radiating from his hand shot shivers down your spine.

Bodhi's hands rested at your hip when you straightened. Fingers curling under the rim of your flight jacket.

Asra, is there anyone else in the field?

You waited as she surveys the open expanse of land.

No one beyond those Cuir has scared off.

Good.

Turning in his arms, You take all but one second, one for a breath before you stepped up, wrapping an arm around the back of his neck. You couldn't give a damn if you were just here for the sex. You needed it, a deathly desire.

Bodhi didn't interject when you planted your lips to his own, hands pulling your body closer to his still. Molding your torsos, you could feel every inhale he struggled to take, forced to pick between you and breathing. A warmth spread to your core when he held his breath.

Bodhi slanted his head, inclining it down to slip his tongue into your mouth, warm sliding along your bottom lip, gravity pushed you back and when you bumped into something warm you stumbled, Bodhi's hand keeping you from crumbling.

Asra grumbled softly, Bodhi jerked his head back, and you could see in his eyes clear as day the alarm in them when he glanced up to Asra. The angle awkward from where Bodhi had you pressed against her foreleg.

You laughed softly pushing to hide your face in his chest.

"Perhaps. We should take this elsewhere." Bodhi whispered softly next to the shell of your ear, eyes unblinking away from your dragons piercing gaze.

Wise choice boy.

You tried to stifle another laugh as Asra continued glaring.

Lips tingling for more as Bodhi clasped your hand and began leading you both from the flight field. Keeping pace, you avoided the sound of other students, to evade their attention.

He led you faster, assuming you would be going to his room you felt the tension rise in your arm when he suddenly pulled you into another direction.

Twisting to keep up, You hugged closer to his arm. "Where are we going?"

Bodhi didn't speak, but led you on further and you caught the peak of a boyish grin gleaming over his shoulder, rounding the corner of the main entrance to the college he walked backwards pushing open a door tucked into the wall.

The room was dark, beyond a small line of light creeping through the cracks of the door, a door which had become so warped it didn't meet all the edges of the frame.

There was shelves, but you didn't give yourself time to inspect the contents. Perhaps a store cupboard.

His hands grasped your neck, thumb working small circles into your jaw, as he walked backwards still. He pulled you closer by your neck.

You allowed yourself to be lead and spun until your back met a solid wall. It was cold against your spine, goosebumps racking.

You felt the hot pant of his breath against your cheek before his lips met yours in the darkness. Needy and fast, You worked a hand up and around the ball of his shoulder, arm resting there so you could thread a hand into the hair at the back of his neck.

His shoulders trembles under your touch, giving into the sensation as you pulled and bit into his lip. Bodhi's head titled back away from your mouth as you tugged his hair. His breathing is heavy and uneven, but even in the dim lighting you can spy the look of desire in his eyes, eyes which darted to blink at every inch of your face.

"Want me to stop love?" The light across his face shifts, his brow was raised. But that word made your heart stutter against your ribs. Love.

"I want you," You hover your lips above his, could almost taste yourself on him, you would have ended the sentence there but instead. "-I want you to do as I say."

Watching his face for a reaction, Bodhi hummed low the sound soft, the edge of his lip curved up. "Then I am at your mercy Darling."

His attempt to kiss you was halted when you tightened the fistful of hair in your grip, Bodhi hissed but his eyes rolled at the sensation.

"Did I say you could kiss me?" Tilting your head to watch him under hooded lashes.

Your pulse was thrumming loud in your inner ear, but through the pleasant roar you could have swore you heard Bodhi whimper. Fucking whimper. Something inside you tightened, tension rising as you slowly loosened your grip and used that hand to push his shoulder, coaxing him to kneel before you.

He did so willingly, eyes ravaging every inch of your body on the way down,

Once he was on his knees, you stepped back, flush against the wall. Hand shifting to unbutton the top of you flight leathers, slowly teasing the clothes from you body, the cold air against your warm skin emitted a small gasp from you.

Stripping, until you stood naked for him. Bodhi's eyes darted frantically unable to take everything in at once, you watched them flicked from your breasts down the valley between them, he stilled at the sight of you completely bare before him.

Extending a hand, you waited until he placed his in yours, His breath was swallow and you watched his expression as he zones in on your face, unblinking as you led his hand between your legs.

"Say the words" Bodhi sounded almost breathless, hand inches from grasping you where you needed him most, You could feel the warmth of those fingers hovering below the wetness between your legs.

With the anticipation you struggle with the words, thoughts fuzzy at the sight of him kneeling for you, waiting so desperately for you to let him touch you.

"Touch me." Even the sound of your own voice sounded foreign, undiluted with the desire that was threatening to make your knees buckle.

Damn him. Bodhi smiles, cocking his head sideways, "Need more description then that Love." His words were coupled with the featherlight touch of his thumb against your clit.

You gasped, nerves pulse painfully, aching for touch. Bodhi kept smirking, but did not touch you again.

"I want your fingers inside me. As many as you can manage. I want to come over them-" he brushed a finger along the folds of your entrance, a pause to catch your breath, "Then I want more."

"Tongue or cock?" his voice was raspy, and low.

You broke through the stupor to nod, "Both. Definitely both."

He paused for a long second, stilling.

"Bodhi-"

The first finger entered you without warning, warmth bloomed and pumping through you. He began slow, driving the singular finger in and out, the pace not changing until he added that second finger. Thumb joining the pair already in use as he stretched you, His thumb encircled the sensitive bundle of nerves.

Throwing your head back you could only ignore the pain, when your skull smacked into the wall, back arching slightly as he kept the pace. Your heart was hammering harder as you breathing came out faster, moans of pleasure which seemed to encourage Bodhi on further.

The pleasure was building, he curled one of those fingers inside you, you cried out free hand gripping new fistful of his hair. You felt your release drawing closer still,

Words were a struggle so when Bodhi hit this sweet spot, you shook to stay standing, and without vocal command Bodhi somehow knew to keep going. A blessing you were grateful for, release was barreling into you with the next thrust of his fingers, your nail digging into his shoulder to stay standing

Opening your eyes, you were staring at the dark ceiling, the air fighting its way in and out from your lungs. You had to blink back the dark edges of your vision in order to glance down at Bodhi.

"Please" He begged softly, your mind was so fuzzy you could only stare blankly down at him until he gives a pointed look between your legs.

Nodding, unable to get the words to leave your lips, finger still twisted in his hair, your grip loosened when you feel his tongue on the inside of your thigh.

Lapping up the evidence of your release, the anticipation of him making it to the apex of your leg made your heart hammer once more, His tongue ran along your folds when you were interrupted.

Incoming.

Asra's voice in your head ruptured through the atmosphere. You shifted and moved a hand to Bodhi's shoulder, he glances your way concern lacing his expression.

"What's wrong?" His expression stills. Cuir no doubt delaying information to him, someone was coming this way.

It was only a second later you could hear the footsteps approaching. You separated, Bodhi rising to pass you something to cover yourself with. Holding it against your chest you froze.

"Who is that?" You whispered, Bodhi glanced at the door, perhaps waiting for it to open, In this moment you could finally take a second to look around the store room.

The room was filled with spare riding equipment, replacements for saddles. Spare sizes of riding leathers. Shit. After Flight manoeuvrers anyone could need to come in here and you were completely naked and still hazy from your release.

Swaying on legs that still felt to shaky to hold your weight. Bodhi steadied you with a hand, his other free one coming up to cover your mouth. Wide eyed and trying to slow your breathing and heart beat,

When the door begun to open, Bodhi spun away and thumped his foot against it.

"Fuck." The door stopped, Bodhi rounded it, pushing through the gap of its opening to keep you from sight.

There was a shuffle as the person moved backwards, allowing the spacw for Bodhi to stand in the way of the door.

"Xaden, Anything I can help you with?"

You knew Bodhi said his name loud enough for you to hear through the door, as quietly as you could you knelt to reach for your clothes sprawled on the floor around your feet.

"I'm just looking for some new sizes of flight leather, Violence tore a hole in hers flying yesterday."

You stilled waiting for the door to open, or Bodhi to speak up, which ever came first.

"There isn't any there that would fit Sorrengail." You froze at Bodhi's words, the silence from Xaden causing you to silently drag your flight jacket over your shoulders,

Bodhi stuttered over his words, "I was eh.. looking for some for Y/n, There is a limited supply. Was just on my way to put in an order for some more."

Whether Riorson was going to buy it... You bit into your lip awaiting in the darkness.

Xaden grumbled something which was muffled through the door, Bodhi laughed and you were finally able to breath when their voices and footsteps began to retreat from the store cupboard.

You grabbed for your boots, ramming your feet into them and tucking the edges of the trousers around the rim. Tying them up quickly you ran a hand through you hair before moving for the door.

With a quick check to make sure the coast was clear you slipped out and made your way back inside towards the courtyard.

Satsified?

I know you can hear my every thought without the shield, so I'm going to spare us both our sanity by not answering that. Had you remembered to put your shield up whilst Bodhi...

At the memory of his fingers inside you deep and warm, your breath hitched and as you body warmed, an itch that hadn't been scratched. The session in the store room had been a warm up for more... Because Bodhi would have given more.

There was no doubt what your night activities would include, by your hand or his own should he seek you out.

Approaching the corner that would round into the food hall, you picked at the skin on your finger, What if he didn't come looking for you? What if-

You collided with a body when you walked around the corner, Hand landed against your torso to steady you, Grabbing to the persons forearm.

Glancing up, you still as Cassandra roughly shook your grip off her, as though the hint of your touch was toxic. The sneer was already set in her expression and disgust lined her stare.

- ❈ -

Bodhi was sat beside Xaden and Garrick, Keeping to the numbers pushed onto them by the rules. Three and no more marked ones to be found together at any one time. To keep them from building some sort of rebellion, shame is was far to late for that.

Bodhi tried to ignore the ache in his dick, he had so been waiting to be inside you since he had pulled you aside this morning, the memory of his hands of your, he had to clench his fists to keep from getting himself too worked up.

"The fuck got you in such a mood?" Garrick kept his voice low as a group from first wing strolled past their table.

Xaden beside him laughed as he lifted a cup to his lips, "Blue balls" He muttered it, but both Bodhi and Garrick heard him clear as day.

The older boy laughed but Bodhi simply scowled at his cousin, Xaden tried to ignore it by prolonging his drink.

"Just ask her out already." Garrick tapped the table, drumming the surface with his fingers. Bodhi was gritting his teeth so hard, he thought they might actually shatter and then he might even break something in his jaw.

When he looked to Xaden, Bodhi froze, Xaden was giving him a pointed look.

The bastard knew.

[tearsaura]

Holding the enemy in my arms // Garrick Tavis x reader

A/N: Based on this request. I hope you like it. I didn't want to take to long on getting this out

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: Iron Flame spoilers, angst, death

Picture is from pinterest: kateslibb

Garrick Tavis has cried twice in his life.

~Basgiath War College, 12 hours ago~

He quickly found her in an abandoned hall, grabbed her by the shoulder, his arm pressing her by the neck to the wall behind them and holding a dagger to her throat with the other.

‘How could you do this?’ Garrick had never shed a tear in front of anyone else before. He hadn't even cried at his parents’ execution, not wanting to give Generals the satisfaction. But right now? Pressing her to the wall, the women whom he loved so dearly, who he had pictured a life with? Getting married, having kids, and living at each other’s side? She looked so much like the y/n he knew, if it wasn't for the bloodshed eyes, she looked just like the girl he fell in love with.

‘You wouldn't understand.’ she gasped, her hands grabbing desperately at his arm. ‘Try me. You had me thinking you were dead. You had your Dragon thinking that you were dead, your friends! Was it worth betraying all of us? Ruining what we had? Answer!’ he shouted. The next moment, his back hit the opposite wall, knocking the air out of his lung and she had disappeared.

~Basgiath War Collage, 6 Months ago~

‘Gods your stance is terrible how did you survive your first year?’ Garrick laughed as he watched her take position. ‘I survived just fine.’ she grinned at him. ‘Well, this won’t last you for long let me show you How you're supposed to do it.’ he said, standing behind her and repositioning her arms. ‘Why Thank you, section leader. Or shall I start calling you Lieutenant?’ ‘Stop teasing, concentrate.’ He tsked, pressing a quick kiss on her temple. ‘Thank you for helping me.’ she whispered in that gentle tone of hers, making Garrick weak in the knees. ‘Of course, my love. You don't have to thank me I am doing this for selfish reasons: I need you to survive what's coming.’ he said, unaware that he was, in fact, holding the enemy in his arms.

‘Can't you be stationed here? I'll miss you.’ she complained. ‘I wish I could stay with you, my love. But you know I can't. I'll write to you all the time I promise. Maybe we'll be able to smuggle out occasionally when Xaden comes to visit.’ ‘Or we could get our dragons to fall for each other and become mates? Then we'd be able to visit each other to! We still have time-‘ ‘I appreciate your effort, but you know this doesn't work that way.’ he replied and Y/N turned around in his arms, putting hers around his neck. ‘Just promise me we'll figure this out.’ she whispered, looking at him through her lashes. ‘We will. I promise.’ he whispered back and interlocked his lips with hers.

~Riorson House, Aretia, four months ago~

Garrick ran through the corridors of the Riorson house, frantically searching for her y/h/c standing out in the massive groups of cadets that stood around all the place, with no success. His frantic search came to a halt when he spotted her friends. She'd have to be here. There was no way she wouldn't have come. Was she okay? Did she survive?

With big steps he approached them, his heart falling when he saw she wasn't among them. ‘Violet? Have you seen y/n?’ he asked the younger Girl, who just shook her head, the worry in her eyes matching Garrick’s. ‘No, I- I'm sorry we didn't see her. She was nowhere to be found.’ she replied. ‘We searched all over.’ If his heart hadn't given out before, it sure did when he heard those words.

Samara is here Chardh echoed in his head and Garrick made haste to get outside, up to where the Dragons stood. Chardh stood next to Samara, whom had her head low to the ground. She cannot get to her.

~Basgiath War Collage, 13 hours ago~

‘According to Barlowes Memories, he planted lures all over the college and up the path to the vale.’ Aetos started explaining. ‘How could he have done it by himself?’ Someone chimed in. ‘He didn't.’ Dain began, hesitating. ‘Which leads me to the next point: He- he had help from Y/L/N. I don't know for how long she has been turned into a venin or where she is right now. We presumed her for dead. I saw where Barlowe put most of the lure boxes but not all of them. And we can't figure out where Y/L/N has put them without finding her...’

Garrick blended the rest of it out. He suddenly felt dizzy, his vision turning black, and his hands started shaking. That couldn't be. She'd never do that. ‘Garrick?’ he turned to his best friend, who looked at him with his usual expressionless stare. Bodhi on the other hand had it written all over his face how sorry he felt.

He ignored their stares, tracking back all the times he shared with her. Was she a venin when he first told her that he loved her, when he helped her train, when they shared their first kiss together? Or was she turned when half of the college left for Aretia? Or was that the reason why she hadn't come at all? How come no one ever noticed her eyes where red? Once the briefing was over, he was the first who left the room, beginning his hunt.

~Basgiath War College, Present~

Garrick shook his head, focusing on the task at his hands, his mission clear: buy time, to get the wards back up. There were a dozen wyvern flying directly towards him and Chradh. There were no other Cadets or Riders near him: leaving him at a clear disadvantage. He threw a dagger towards the first venin, missing the target by mere inches, the metal falling.

‘You should forfeit Rider. Maybe then we will spare your life.’ they said, a disturbing grin spreading across their face. Chradh continued to breath fire, without no luck, and attacked the wyvern at its neck. Just as Garrick stood up on Cradh's back, ready to start another attack. Before he could do anything, a dagger came flying, piercing the Venins, falling off. In mere seconds, the other Venins followed. The Lieutenant turned his head to see the source of the flying dagger, his eyes widening. ‘Are you okay?’ y/n asked, flying closer to him. Chardh growled, ready to attack her but Garrick quickly interfered.

End her. She betrayed you. She betrayed Samara. She betrayed all of us. She will be our downfall.

‘How is it possible that Samara assumed you were dead?’ ‘You clearly don't know enough about Venins. My magic helped me build shields strong enough that she could've never find or get to me.’ ‘Why did you kill them?’ ‘Really? You want to discuss this now? I will explain to you everything once we're done.’ she stated to him and turned then to Chardh.  ‘The lure boxes I put out are very weak but all near the hall.’ And with that, she left them, closely missing the weapon one of the venin had throwed at her.

Garrick couldn't keep the grin off his face. She is helping them. She is fighting against her own to help them. He was overwhelmed with a new burst of energy and ready to take on the venin that came flying directly towards him. He didn't see the other one coming, one hand raised and pulling on of the daggers from Garrick towards him, then aiming it at Garrick. Before he could retrieve another dagger, a dark figure passed by him, taking the dagger at the chest, and plummeting to the ground. Garrick only saw the familiar y/h/c hair, and sped down after her, his heart falling even deeper.

Once Chardh caught up with her, he grabed her carefully by her body and lowered them to the ground, putting her down as gently as possible. Garrick quickly got off, sliding to the girl, grabbing her by the upper body, positioning her head on his lap. She was still breathing, and Garrick held his hand on her chest, desperately trying to put pressure on her wound, tears streaming down his face.

‘How could you do that? We could've gotten you back.’ ‘This is war. I had to do what had to be done. There's no cure.’ she replied. Her breath becoming shallower with every second. The other venins layed around, all dead. They must've raised the wards.

Call for Brennan! Call for Brennan!!

On it.

‘You'll get over me. I promise you. You'll meet someone that doesn't cause you the pain I caused. They're going to make you happy. I promise you'll be fine.’ y/n said, cradling his cheek with a shaking hand giving him a smile. Garrick shook his head violently. ‘You can't cry over me. I am not worth crying over.’ ‘Noone is going to make me happier than you did. I love you and I don't take anything you have done for granted. I could never. None of us do. You can't leave me now that I have you back, please I love you.’ ‘I will watch over you, I promise. I love you too.’ she said, her eyes going blank, as she took her final breath.

As the Cadets and Riders were celebrating inside, there was no sound to be heard outside, other than Garrick’s painful roar, triggering the same one from Chradh.

[callsign-rogueone]

one for the books - g.t.

Garrick Tavis x Scribe!Reader part of my Valentine’s Day Celly (better late than never?) words: 1.7k (got a little carried away here, oops) 🏷: IRON FLAME SPOILERS. scribe reader who is referred to as a woman one time, and has painted nails, but no pronouns used. just some meet-cute fluff with reader and Gare. love at first sight. it's weird writing him with anyone other than Angel, but I hope y'all will still like it anyway 🥺

Garrick wanders through the rows of bookshelves in search of someone who actually knows what they’re doing, so he won’t have to spend the entire day looking at the titles of every book in this massive library.

It doesn’t take long for him to find the only scribe who’d come with them to Aretia: Violet’s friend, Jesinia, who had helped them sneak into the Archives to get the journals. Who happens to be Deaf. He hadn’t thought about that part. 

He waves a hello, racking his brain for the letters of the alphabet and spelling out his request at a snail’s pace, hoping he’s moving his hands correctly. I… n-e-e-d…

Jesinia takes pity on him, holding up a hand to stop him and darting back into the maze of shelves, leaving him standing there thoroughly embarrassed -- he really needs to add “study sign” to his list of things to do after this whole wyvern thing is resolved and Tyrrendor is freed again. Whenever that will be.

He’s expecting her to come back with a pen and paper, so he can write it down, but she emerges thirty seconds later with another scribe in tow, one he’s never met before -- the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. 

Jesinia gestures to you with a soft smile, and leaves.

He blinks once, twice, taking you in.

You’ve taken some creative liberties with the uniform, wearing the beige scribes’ robes open with a plain shirt and pants underneath, the hood down to expose your face and hair, a pair of glasses perched atop your head and a clipboard in hand, your nails long and painted a pale pink -- a few of them have started to chip, but it’s endearing; comforting to find a tiny flaw in an otherwise perfect presence.

You’re equally entranced. The fortress is crawling with riders -- you’re one of maybe five students here who are anything else --  but this one in particular makes your heart race. 

It’s as if the gods pulled a knight from the pages of one of your fantasy novels and dropped him in front of you in this library; broad and tall, muscled and tattooed, two longswords strapped across his back… he’d be intimidating without the nervous smile on his face and the blush dusting his cheeks, the afternoon light coming through the windows and making him glow.

“How can I help you, Lieutenant?” you ask after a moment, hoping you don’t sound as flustered as you feel.

The scar running down the side of his face moves as he speaks -- more quietly than you’d been expecting. “Riorson sent me; he wants everything you have about wards.”

You blow out a nervous breath. “Okay, uh… I’m still not totally sure how this library is organized, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“We can look together, then,” he offers, giving you a knee-weakening smile.

You don’t know if you can spend the rest of your afternoon with this man and not make a complete fool of yourself, but you’ll just have to try your best. “Sounds like a plan.”

You realize you don’t know each other’s names, having been too busy staring at each other to make proper introductions.

“Garrick,” he offers, extending a hand to shake.

You’re really supposed to refer to him as Lieutenant, since he’s graduated and you haven’t, but you still repeat the word softly, trying it out. “Nice to meet you, Garrick.”

He already owes Xaden Riorson his life, but hearing you say his name, feeling the softness of your hand against his… he decides he’ll be in the boy’s debt well into the afterlife, too.

“I’ll start on one end, you on the other, and meet in the middle?” you ask. “Anything with wards, magic, or protection in the title would be a good start.”

He hums in acknowledgement, heading down to the end of the row.

“I haven’t been in here in ages,” he admits, scanning the rows of shelves for anything that could be useful. “I lived most of my life here before the revolution,” he adds quickly, explaining.

Small talk is good. You can do small talk.

“It must have been interesting growing up in a fortress like this,” you respond, too shy to ask him for his likely incredibly-tragic life story outright, and you’re technically on the job right now, so you should be focusing on the task at hand.

He picks another volume off the top shelf, keeping his feet flat on the ground and barely having to stretch for it. “It was. There were a few dozen of us kids around, always underfoot and meddling. We used to play hide and seek in here, and see how long we could stay before the scribes found us and kicked us out.”

You laugh, a sound he doesn’t think he’ll ever grow tired of hearing. You may be a librarian, but you’re the polar opposite of the typical strict and stiff scribes he’s used to -- young and lovely and not afraid to laugh and talk among the books, to let them hear your voice and know that they’re appreciated. They’re lucky to have someone like you watching over them.

Since you’re grasping at straws here, you decide to cast a broad net and pull down anything that could be even a little bit helpful -- and you’re finding more than you’d thought, likely because the Tyrrish basically invented wards. 

You really should have brought a cart, but it’s no issue for him -- he’s holding at least ten thick volumes at once with complete ease.

“I got it,” he offers, shifting the tall stack he’s amassed into one arm and taking yours with the other. Seeing a man like him with an armful of books is hotter than it should be. Everything about him is hotter than it should be.

He sets the stack on the nearest table, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over the back of a chair before he sits down.

Your eyes linger on the relic winding around his arm like a plume of black smoke, contrasting against the pale muscle. You know it was intended as way to mark them as the descendants of those who had committed treason, to set them apart from their peers and to force them to enroll in the rider’s quadrant, but he looks like he didn’t have too much trouble in his days at Basgiath, if the two dozen patches on his flight jacket are any metric.

It suits him. He’d look incomplete without the relic and the thick scar on the side of his face. It would be rude to ask how he got it, but the curiosity still tugs at you. You want to know everything about him.

You realize you’re staring, and pull your eyes away as quickly as you can manage, worried that he’ll think you’re judging him -- though you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t on his side.

You each take a book off the top and crack it open, scanning for anything that could help. “Did he say anything more specific? Or why he needs this?”

“Nope. But he’s always been vague and mysterious, even when we were kids, before he had all those shadows following him around.”

“I’ve only seen him twice, but that sounds accurate.”

It’s his turn to laugh. “He may be all cold and broody all the time, but he’s a good guy. I’ve always considered him my best friend.”

You’re thinking of the best way to keep him talking when Jesinia knocks on the side of a nearby shelf to get your attention. Done with my transcribing. What’s next?

Thank you. You can leave for the day. 

Jesinia gives you a sly smile. You don’t want help? Or do you just want to be alone with him because you think he’s handsome?

She’d told you that Garrick’s sign was rusty, that he could only fingerspell, but you still turn away from him as you respond, praying he didn’t understand what she just said. 

Two can play at this game. I’ve been meaning to ask, how is that redhead boy who keeps coming by to talk to you? I’m sure he’d like to see you for another sign lesson tonight.

She reddens, realizing you know about her crush on the rider, and bails out of the conversation while she still can. Goodnight!

There’s that lovely laugh again as you turn back to him, seeing him watching you -- now you really hope he didn’t understand. He quickly returns his gaze to the book in front of him, which definitely isn’t modern Navarrian or any of the other languages you know. It must be Tyrrish.

“You can read this?” you ask with rapt curiosity, leaning forward to take a better look at it.

“About every fifth word or so,” he answers. “There aren’t many fluent speakers left, since it was outlawed decades ago and kids aren’t taught it in school. I don’t see the symbol for “wards” anywhere, but that might be too obvious.”

“No language should ever be outlawed,” you respond, perhaps a little too hotly. “There must be so much valuable information that was lost in translation or destroyed entirely after the wars. That’s one of the reasons I wanted to become a scribe, to try to save as much as I could. But so many of the texts in the Archives have been translated over and over, and I can’t help but wonder if some things were left out on purpose.”

Another smile. “Well-said. Into the “maybe” pile, then?”

Your cheeks warm with embarrassment as you realize how long you’d been talking. “That’s the only pile we have,” you sigh, stretching. 

He’d shown up around four, and it’s nearing seven now, your body automatically responding to the hour and telling you to pack things up, but that’s one of the nicest things about the library here -- unlike the Archives at Basgiath, you can work here through the night, and not be booted out at seven on the dot.

You’d asked the Lieutenant Colonel about it when he’d come by one day, and he’d told you there wasn’t any sort of magical time-sealing-lock on the library, just a normal wooden door charmed to be fireproof -- so you’d stayed in one of the armchairs until midnight reading, just because you could.

“Well,” he offers, “I know it’s a grave sin to eat in the library, so how about we take a break, get ourselves some dinner, and pick this back up after?”

Smooth. Very smooth.

“I’d like that,” you answer, your heart fluttering. “I’d like that a lot.”

[nomie-11]

Chapter 13 - An Inferno of Desire

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CONTENT WARNING: my poor attempt at writing smut for the first time!

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This surge of… emotions was overpowering. 

Genevieve couldn’t handle it, and Tairn needed to get a grip. Whatever he and Sgaeyl were doing, they needed to stop. Now. 

She stumbled forward, nearly collapsing as she made her way from the chair at the window to her cloak at the door, before she slammed it open. 

Fuck me, she groaned, as Liam immediately slammed his door open too, hair tousled and night shirt thrown on halfway, his eyes wide with a mixture of fear and surprise. 

“Genevieve! Are you alright? I came as soon as I heard your door-” Genevieve held her hand up, clutching her cloak tightly around herself. 

“For the love of Zihnal, Liam get out of my way!” She spoke through gritted teeth, suppressing the urge to do ungodly things to him. 

“You look insane, are you ok?” He asked again, his voice laced with worry. “You’re looking at me like…”

Genevieve licked her bottom lip. 

“Like what?”

“Like…” he cocks his head to the side. “Like you're not yourself. You don’t look like you feel—you know—like yourself.”

Because I don’t! She wants to scream. Tairn and Sgaeyl are fucking and ruining my night!

“I’m good! Go to bed!” She quickly says, shoving Liam back through his open door. She catches a glimpse of Violet in his room but shuts the door behind him before she does something else to Liam. 

Once his door is shut tightly, Genevieve runs. 

She makes it to the entrance of the spiral steps leading down from her hallway before she needs to lean back against the cold stone wall and breathe through the fog of Tairn’s emotions. Once the wave passes, she races down the steps, keeping one hand against the wall in case she’s pulled under again. 

Away. She has to get away from everyone until Tairn finishes whatever the hell he and Sgaeyl are doing. Stumbling out of the stairwell, she emerges at the foundation of the walls of the citadel. Snow fills the sky, and she tips her head back, savoring the brief kiss of snowflakes on skin that's heated for all the wrong reasons

The air is crisp and chilled, and—

Her eyes pop open at the scent in the air and she whirls around, her cloak whipping behind her as she finds the source of the sweet, easily identifiable smoke. 

Xaden is leaning back against the wall, one foot braced on the stone, smoking and watching her like she doesn't have a care in the world. 

“Give me a drag of that right now,” She says, her voice firm but full of desire as she eyes the Churam in his hand. 

“Woah, Gen,” he blows out a puff of smoke. “Want some? Unless you’re here to continue our long-standing argument, in which case, none for you.” 

Her jaw practically unhinges. “Oh my gods, Xaden, don’t play games.” 

His eyes light up, clearly enjoying this ordeal. “You know we aren’t allowed to smoke, right, Gen?” 

“Whoever made that stupid rule clearly never bonded mated dragons,” A smirk lifts the corner of his mouth at her biting words. 

Gods, she could stare at his lips forever. They are perfectly shaped and yet entirely too decadent for the slashing line of his jaw. His hands, hold out in a truce, the perfectly rolled Churam resting neatly, waiting. He offers it to her with a cocked eyebrow, and she notices that it's the one with the scar. 

“It helps with the distancing yourself,” he says, clicking his lighter but not holding it up to her roll. “Beyond what shielding does, of course.” 

She shakes her head and crosses through the newly filled snow to brace her weight on the wall beside him, letting her head fall back on the stone. 

“Suit yourself,” he inhales deeply on the Churam and then puts it out against the wall. 

“Gods, could you just fuck me already?” She asks, her voice strained. “It feels like I’m on fucking fire.”

“Yeah. That happens.” His laugh holds a wicked edge, and she makes the utterly unforgivable mistake of turning to see his smile. Xaden, while brooding and bossy, dangerous and lethal, is a toe-curling sight that makes her pulse quicken. But Xaden laughing, his head thrown back with a smile curving his mouth, is drop-dead beautiful. her stupid, foolish heart feels like there’s a fist around it. 

There is nothing she wouldn’t sacrifice, nothing she wouldn’t give to have one unguarded moment with this man she’s going to be tethered to for the rest of her life. This has to be Tairn. It just has to be.

And yet, she knows it isn’t. While she’d admired Liam upstairs, she is completely, utterly obsessed with Xaden. 

His eyes meet hers in the moonlight. 

“Oh, Gen, you’re going to have to learn to shield against Tairn or his escapades with Sgaeyl will drive you mad—or into someone’s bed.” 

She squeezes her eyes shut so she can escape his gorgeous eyes for a moment as a jolt of heat flashes through her, making every inch of her skin tingle and burn. She reaches a hand out to steady herself against the wall. “Oh, I know. I am horrified to see Liam again.” 

“Liam? Why?” He pivots to face her, and she laughs at his jealous expression. “Where the hell is your bodyguard.” 

“Relax, Xaden,” She says, her tone surprisingly light for the blinding desire that shackles her entire body. “He's with Violet for the night. I have my eyes set on someone else.” 

“And who might that be?” He says, trying to be nonchalant as he questions her. His eyes were trained at the sky, but she could see him stealing a glance at her every few moments. 

“You.” 

A wave of desire, a different desire crashes into her. It’s undeniable, unquenchable, and need nearly taking her down to her knees. Xaden wraps an arm around her, steadying her, but his touch burns a flame brighter than she could have ever dreamed of. 

“Why the hell aren’t you shielding?” 

“Not all of us have been given lessons! Professor Carr refuses to even teach me how to shield because he believes that if I have full, undeniable access to his power I’ll be a better weapon.” She explains, her words gritted out through clenched teeth. 

“Always thought that man was psycho.” He sighs. “All right. Crash course. Only because I’ve been where you are and woken up with a few regrets.” 

“You’re actually going to help me?”

“I’ve been helping you for months.” His hand flexes at her waist, and she can swear she can feel the warmth of his touch through her cloak and night clothes. 

“No, you’ve been kissing me and confusing me for months. And then you sent Liam to help. He’s been helping me for months.” Her forehead puckers. “Weeks. almost months. Whatever.” 

Genevieve rolls her eyes at the fact that Xaden has the nerve to look offended. 

“I’m the one who burst through your door and killed everyone who attacked you, and then I removed every other threat in your life with multiple other very public, very polarizing displays of vengeance. Liam didn’t do that. I did.” 

“You didn’t have to do that, I had it under control. If I’m correct, I’m the one with the signet that can take the life force out of a human with a touch of my hand.” 

He groaned, and made a motion that said ‘seriously,’ causing her to roll her eyes.

“Fine. But let’s not pretend that you didn’t do most of that protecting for yourself. It would be inconvenient for you if I died.” She shrugs, blatantly poking at him to help ignore the rising tide of lust thundering against her head. 

He stares at her with disbelief. “You know what? We’re not fighting tonight. Not if you want to learn how to shield.” 

“Fine, we’re not fighting. Teach me.” 

She tilts her head upwards to meet his. Gods, she barely reaches above his shoulders. 

“Ask me nicely,” He leans closer. 

“Have you always been this tall?” She blurts the first thing that comes to her mind. 

“No. I was a child at some point.” She rolls her eyes.

“Ask me nicely, Gen,” he whispers, his breaths grazing her ears. “Or I’m gone.”

She can feel Tairn at the edge of her mind, his emotions ebbing and flowering, and she knows the next wave is going to hit hard. How fucking long are those two dragons going to take. “How often is it like this with them?” 

“Often enough that you’re going to need proper shields. You won’t ever be able to block them out completely, and sometimes they forget to block us, like tonight. That’s why the Churam helps, but at least it’s like walking by a brothel instead of actively participating in one.” 

Well shit.

“Right then. All right. Will you teach me how to shield?” 

A smile curves his mouth, and her gaze drops to his lips. Kiss me. 

“Say please.” 

“Are you always this difficult?” 

“Yes. What can I say, I like watching you squirm. It’s like sweet payback for what you’ve put me through these last couple of months.” He brushes snow off of her hair, as if he knows he’s torturing her. 

“What I’ve put you through.” Unbelievable. 

“You’ve scared me nearly to death once or twice, so I think saying please is a fair request.”

Genevieve is simmering with annoyance and need, her mind reeling with the fact that he’s never played fair for a day in his life. She takes a deep breath, and swats at a that lands on her nose. 

“As you prefer. Xaden?” She smiles sweetly, her face innocent but her eyes seductive. “Would you pretty, pretty please teach me how to shield before I ‘accidentally’ climb you like a tree and we both wake up with regrets.”

A flash of something crosses his face, before he smiles again, and she feels it like a caress. 

“I’m fully in control of myself.” 

Dangerous. This is so damned dangerous. Heat is everywhere, flushing her skin to the point where she debates tossing her cloak off and rolling in the snow to get the tiniest bit of relief. Notably, Xaden isn’t wearing one. 

“But since you asked so nicely,” he adjusts his stance and brings both of his hands to her face, cradling her head the way he did when she was so close to burnout that she almost died, before sliding them back to hold her head. “Close your eyes.” 

“It requires you touching me?” Her eyes flutter shut at the now familiar sensation of his skin against hers. 

“Not at all. Just one of the perks of not thinking too clearly. You have soft skin.” 

The compliment draws a breath from her lungs. So much for control. 

“You need to envision somewhere safe. I prefer the top of my favorite hillside near what’s left of Aretia. Wherever it is, it needs to feel like home.” 

The only place she can think of is the library adjoined to her mother’s room in her grandmother’s manor. The smell of old books and her mothers perfume is still clear in her mind as she envisioned herself in the plush red armchair in the window, watching the rain pour down onto the fields of wildflowers. 

“Feel your feet hit the ground and dig in some.”

Her feet hit the warm carpet by the crackling fire, she can feel the worn threads. “Got it.” 

“That’s called grounding, keeping your mental self somewhere so you aren’t swept away by the power. Now call to your power. Open your senses.” 

Her palms begin to tingle, and a flood of energy surrounds her, just as saturating as it was when it manifested, but without the pain. It’s everywhere, filling the library and pushing at the walls, books fall from the shelves and the wood threatens to crack. “Too much.” 

“Focus on your feet. Stay grounded. Can you see where the power flows from?” 

She nods, her eyes traveling to the open door. The one that led to the hallway that went right to her old bedroom. Golden light wrapped with dark vines floods in from the doorway. 

“I see it.” 

“Perfect. You’re a natural. It takes most people a week to learn how to ground. Now, do whatever you need to mentally do to wall yourself off from that current. Tairn is the source. Block the power and you get some control back.” 

The door. She just needs to close the door and lock it shut. 

Desire makes her heart pound, and she grabs onto his arms, anchoring herself in reality. 

“You’ve got this.” His voice sounds strained. “Whatever you create in your mind is real to you. Shut off the valve. Build a wall. Whatever makes sense.” 

“It’s a door.” Her fingers dig into the soft material of his tunic, and mentally, she pulls at the door, trying to get it to shut one inch at a time. 

“There you go. Keep going.” 

Her physical body trembles at the effort it takes to mentally shove the door shut, but she gets it there, the warm light leaving the room, leaving her illuminated by the fire. “I’ve got the door shut.” 

“Great. Lock it.” 

She spins the nob, hearing the soft and familiar click of the lock shifting into place. The relief is immediate, a cool blast of snow against her feverish skin. Power pulses, and it’s as if she can see through the door. 

“The door is see-through now.” She comments, desperation still in her words. 

“Yeah. You’ll never be able to get him fully blocked out. Got it locked?” 

She nods. 

“Open your eyes, but do your best to keep that door locked. Keep one foot grounded. If it slips, we just start again.” 

She opens her eyes, keeping the mental picture of the library door shut. While her body is still flushed with warmth, that inescapable, driving need is… somewhat muted. “He’s…” she can’t find the words. 

Xaden studies her with an intensity that makes her sway toward him. “You are astonishing.” she shakes his head. “I couldn’t do that for weeks.” 

“Guess I have a superior teacher.” She’s overjoyed. She’s not just good, she’s astonishing. Astonishing to Xaden. 

His thumbs stroke over the soft skin under her ears, and his gaze drops to her mouth. 

“Would it be a bad idea to kiss you again?” He whispers, his words falling on deaf ears. 

Genevieve's breath hitches as she stares at his lips, heart pounding in time with the slow rhythm of his thumbs tracing her skin. 

“Probably catastrophic,” she whispers back, not moving an inch away from him. But despite the caution in her words, her body betrays her, inching closer, drawn to him like a magnet. The air between them crackles with a tension so thick she feels like she’s suffocating under the weight of it. 

Xaden’s hands tighten ever so slightly, his breath warm against her skin as he leans closer, his lips ghosting just above hers.

“Tell me to stop,” he says, his voice rough, low, a dangerous edge to it that makes her blood heat all over again. 

Genevieve can’t think straight. The grounding she just mastered feels like it’s slipping already. The door she locked—she swears she hears it rattle in her mind, Tairn’s presence still there, but distant, almost irrelevant compared to the man holding her now. 

“I—” She’s not even sure what she’s about to say because all she can focus on is Xaden, the way his eyes have darkened, the tension vibrating in every inch of his body. 

Then, against all better judgment, she whispers, “Don’t stop.” 

That’s all it takes. 

Xaden’s mouth crashes onto hers, and all the restraint she had thought she had disappears. The kiss is fire and desperation, an apology for the wrong words and mistrust between them. It burned through her veins and seared away at whatever rational thoughts remained. Her hands tangled in his dark hair, pulling him closer, needing him closer, as if he’s the only thing grounding her now. 

His grip on her waist tightens, pulling her flush against him, and a groan escapes his throat—a sound that sends a new wave of desire ripping through her. It’s like nothing else matters at this moment but him. Xaden, who’s always been there, infuriating and protective, impossible and undeniable. 

Genevieve’s pulse quickened as Xaden deepened the kiss, his lips moving against hers with a ferocity that matched the storm raging in her mind. Tairn and Sgaeyl’s connection still hummed in the background, a faint reminder of what started this, but all of it—every chaotic, wild emotion—paled in comparison to what she felt with Xaden. 

His hands slid down her waist, settling firmly at her hips as if anchoring her to reality. Every place his fingers touched sent sparks of heat across her skin, and she wasn’t sure if it was his power or hers igniting the fire between them. She’d never felt anything like this—like she was completely untethered, yet more grounded than she’d ever been in her life. 

She broke away just enough to catch her breath, her forehead resting against his. Her heart was racing, her entire body buzzing with the aftermath of their kiss. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his breath warm on her cheek, but his hands never left her, still holding her as if he wasn’t ready to let her go. 

“Gods, Xaden,” she whispered, barely able to speak through the whirlwind of emotions swirling in her chest. “What are we doing?” 

He chuckled, a low, rough sound that made her shiver. “Whatever this is, it’s too late to stop now.”

She knew he was right. There was no going back from this. the tension that had built between them over months, through heated agreements, stolen glances, every word unspoken and spoken, had finally snapped. And now, there was no more pretending, no more hiding from the truth of what they were to each other. 

Genevieve closed her eyes, trying to steady herself, her own energy mixing with Xaden's, causing her knees to buckle. He caught her, pulling her closer. 

“My room, now,” she whispered, her voice soft. 

Xaden hesitated for just a second, his eyes searching hers as if waiting for her to change her mind. But she didn’t. The need was unbearable, the tether between them pulsing like a live wire, impossible to ignore. 

His grip tightened on her waist, and with a sharp nod, he pulled her along, guiding her back up the narrow stairs she’d descended in a frenzy not too long before. Genevieve’s legs were unsteady, but she didn’t care. The air between them felt electric, and every inch of her body vibrated in anticipation. 

They reached her door, and she fumbled for the handle, trying to force it open with trembling hands. Xaden brushed her aside, opening it with a swift motion, and before she could even register the movement, she was pressed against the inside of the door, Xaden’s lips on hers again. 

“See,” he said in between kisses, this one slower but no less intense. It was as if they had all the time in the world, despite the frantic pounding of her heart. “The doors unlocked.” 

She nodded, his hands sliding up her back, tangling in her hair, and she could feel the rough scrape of his calloused fingers against her scalp. She arched into him, a low moan escaping her as her body melted into his. Gods, how had she resisted this for so long? His lips tasted so good against hers, it was almost intoxicating. 

“Genevieve,” he murmured against her lips, his voice rough and desperate. “Tell me this isn’t just the dragons.”

“It’s not,” she gasped, pulling him closer, her hands sliding under his shirt, quickly pulling it up and over his head as she felt the heat of his skin beneath her fingertips. “This… this is us.”

That seemed to be all the confirmation he needed. In one swift motion, he pulled her away from the door and toward the bed, their bodies still intertwined as if breaking apart would be impossible. She didn’t even care about him seeing the mess of books and clothes scattered across the floor, her focus solely on the feeling of his hands, his lips, his breath against her skin. 

Every kiss was fueled by their raw desire, and gods it was so good. Her hands traveled the expanse of his body, mapping every dip and ridge with her calloused and weathered fingertips. He was so attractive, her mind was a fog of any thoughts except her need for him. 

They collapsed onto the bed, a tangle of limbs and whispered curses, the weight of their emotions almost too much to bear. Every touch, every kiss felt like it was burning though her, igniting something inside her she hadn’t known was there. 

She barely noticed the glow of her signet, the faint shimmer of energy sparking between them, but Xaden did. He pulled back for just a moment, his eyes dark and intense, as if he were trying to understand what was happening. 

“You’re glowing,” he said softly, his fingers brushing over the delicate veins of light tracing her skin. 

Genevieve blinked, looking down at her hands. Sure enough, the faint glow of her signet was spilling out, wrapping around them like a protective barrier. she should have been concerned, but right now, she couldn’t bring herself to care. Not when Xaden was looking at her like that, his eyes filled with something more than just desire. 

“It’s… it’s fine,” she breathed, reaching up to pull him back down to her. “We’ll figure it out later?”

Xaden’s lips curled into a half-smile as he leaned down, his forehead resting against hers. “Later, huh?” 

She nodded, her voice barely a whisper. “Yeah. Later.” And she kissed him again, her mouth traveling down to his jaw and then down his throat, stopping just above his chest, she glanced up at him. 

“Tell me this is what you want,” he said, his voice husky but pleading, as if a rejection would shatter him into a million pieces, never to be put back together again. 

“This is what I want,” she responded, her voice clear despite the desperation she felt. 

And with that, they gave in to the storm that had been brewing between them for far too long, finally letting it break. 

His own shirt was on the floor by the door, discarded early on in a flurry of motions Genevieve had gone through between the five steps that took them from the closed and warded door and the bed. Xaden made quick work of Genevieve’s cloak, tossing it onto the floor by the door as well as he pushed her down onto the bed. 

In another few ragged breaths, his hands ran over her body, snaking up underneath her shirt, trailing the curve of her waist and up the ridge of her back. He could feel the bumps and ridges of scars littering her back as he touched her. Pulling her shirt up, he tore it off in one fell swoop, and she shudders as her bare skin comes into contact with his. 

Her body under his was perfect, she was perfect. Pale skin glowing with a sheen of sweat and white hair tousled against his rough hands, her muscular body, she was in every right a warrior, a machine, perfectly toned for war, but she was so beautiful. 

He brushes their lips together before he moves his attention down, kissing her neck with a long trail of desperate nips that draw shallow gasps from the depths of her throat. Her hands splay out of his back, pulling him closer to her as his lips trail lower and lower. 

The second they couldn’t go any further, he shred the ragged chest wraps she still insisted on wearing off of her body. His eyes roamed freely, drinking in every dip and valley of her upper body.

Genevieve’s chest rose and fell rapidly, her breathing shallow as the last remnants of restraint dissolved between them. Xaden’s eyes darkened with want as he took in her bare upper body, his gaze trailing down the sharp lines of her collarbone to the small swell of her breasts, freed from the constraints of the wraps she’d worn for so long. Her body was a masterpiece of strength and survival, every scar a testament to battle fought and won, every curve a contradiction of softness amidst the hard muscle beneath. 

He traced a hand lightly over the jagged scar that ran from her left shoulder down across her ribs, a reminder of the life she’d led before this moment, before him. The muscles beneath her skin flexed involuntarily, her strength palpable even in her vulnerability. The curve of her breasts—small but firm—fit perfectly into his palms, the heat of her skin searing his touch. 

His thumb grazed her nipple, and a gasp escaped her lips. Her eyes fluttered shut, the intensity of the moment written in every shiver that passed through her. He lowered his mouth to her breast, teasing her sensitive skin with slow, deliberate strokes of his tongue. Her back arched beneath him, her hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer, needing more, wanting everything. 

Her body was a battlefield, marked and worn, but beneath it all, she was alive. Xaden pressed kisses along her chest, her ribs, her stomach, farther down, her breath catching as his hands ran down over her body, trailing the line of teasing kisses he had just left, moving down slowly inching closer and closer to the upper hem of her pants, teasing her. 

“Gods, Genevieve,” he rasped, biting at her lower lip. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

She moves to shake her head no, to break away from him now that he’s seen her like this, but he holds her head firmly in place with a kiss.

“You’re breathtaking,” he manages to say, his words breathy and desperate. 

Her hands grip the rough skin of his back, every touch of his amplified as his calloused hands held the bare skin of her waist firmly in place. Fuck, I want this so bad. 

She doesn’t even have a chance to ask, and his hands move lower, trailing the skin of her inner thighs through the loose night trousers she wore. Her back instinctively arches into his touch as his hands press further, harder but gentle with every motion. 

“Please,” she pants, her breathing ragged and desperate as he teases her, his hands rubbing circles on the sensitive skin of her upper inner thigh. “Xaden, please-”

Her gasps are like a drug, invigorating Xaden, as Genevieve’s hands moved down his torso to the waist of his pants. Her nimble hands made quick work of his belt. 

“Let me please you first,” his words came out husked, his lips coming to hers, biting at her lower lip as he caressed her. “I want to hear you,” he whispered, their lips barely brushing together. 

He grabbed at the waist of her pants, messily pulling them down and over her hips and tossing them to the ground. Gods, in his eyes, she’s perfect. 

Geneiveve’s breath hitched as Xaden’s gaze roamed over her, dark and hungry. She felt exposed, raw, but the way he looked at her—like she was everything—kept her from retreating into the shame that threatened to consume her as his gaze swept over her. His touch was reverent, his fingers tracing the lines of her body, closer and closer to where her heat coiled in her, his gentleness that contrasted the fire in his eyes. 

She trembled as his hands grabbed her thighs, parting them with one strong motion, his fingers brushed the sensitive skin that led to her. 

The anticipation was agonizing, her body aching for more, every nerve on high alert. “Xaden,” she pleaded, her voice desperate. “Don’t tease.”

His lips curved into a wicked smile as he kissed his way down her body, his hot breath sending shivers up her spine. “I told you,” he murmured against his skin. “I want to hear you.” 

Xaden’s teasing only heightened the electric tension crackling between them, and Genevieve’s heart raced as he lowered his mouth, trailing soft kisses down the valley of her stomach. Each brush of his lips was like a spark against her skin, igniting a fire that spread through her with dizzying intensity. The sensation of his warm breath against her most intimate parts sent a wave of longing coursing through her veins. 

“Xaden,” she gasped, the sound barely escaping her throat, a blend of impatience and desire. She could feel the heat poling deep within her, a pressure building that begged for release. But his teasing was relentless, the wicked grin on his face only fueling her hunger. 

“Just a moment longer,” he whispered, his voice low and thick with lust as he continued to explore her body, his fingers dancing along her thighs. She could feel her muscles tense and flex beneath his touch, every movement drawing her closer and closer to him. 

“Please,” she urged, her voice trembling as she pushed her hips closer, seeking the friction that would relieve the overwhelming ache. His hands were strong, yet gentle, holding her in place, and she felt a mix of desperation and exhilaration coursing through her. Every second stretched into eternity, the world outside fading into nothingness as she focused solely on him and the sensations he was stirring within her. 

Xaden lifted his head, his dark eyes locked onto hers, filled with a fierce intensity that made her heart skip. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he said, his voice gravelly. “I need you to let go for me. Show me how much you want this.” 

His words, infused with sincerity and raw passion, ignited something deep within her. Geneveive nodded, breathing hard as she surrendered to the moment, allowing her vulnerability to spill into the space between them. “I want you, Xaden,” she breathed, her voice low but filled with conviction. 

With that, he descended upon her, his mouth finally connecting with her most sensitive skin, sending shockwaves through her body. A gasp erupted from her lips, her back arching off the bed as he lavished her with attention, his tongue expertly coaxing her further into bliss. Each stroke was a heady mix of ecstasy and relief, pushing her toward the precipice of euphoria. 

She could feel herself losing control, her signet pulsing erratically with every surge of pleasure. The glow that had been faint moments before began to intensify, the tendrils of light spreading across her skin, brighter, hotter. 

As Xaden continued to worship her body, Genevieve’s senses heightened, the world narrowing to just the two of them. She could feel every pulse of pleasure, of whisper of air against her skin, and the delicious ache of anticipation building within her. Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him on as she surrendered to the waves of sensation crashing over her. 

“Xaden,” she moaned, her voice thick with pleasure. “I’m so close. Please- don’t stop!”

He looked up at her, his gaze dark and possessive, a smile dancing across his lips. “Let go, Genevieve. Let me hear you.” 

With his words echoing in her mind, she felt the dam within her break, pleasure washing over her in overwhelming waves, drowning her in ecstasy. Her cries filled the room, raw and unrestrained, every stroke of his tongue pushed her deeper into the throes of bliss. 

“Xaden—” she gasped, her voice strained, a mix of pleasure and panic. “I—I can’t—”

He looked up, his eyes dark and wild, but there was no fear there, no hesitation. “I’ve got you,” he said, his voice a low growl as he kissed his way back up to her lips, his hands taking the spot his tongue had occupied, swallowing her cries as she came undone beneath him. “I’ve got you, Gen.” 

The energy burst from her in a wave, the glow of her signet enveloping them both, but Xaden didn’t pull away. He stayed, grounding her, his hands never leaving her skin as she shattered in his arms. 

For a moment, the world fell away. There was no war, no pain, no guilt, no fear. There was only Xaden, the feeling of his body pressed against hers, the steady beat of his heart in her ear. 

As the glow faded, Genevieve lay still, her chest rising and falling in ragged breaths. She blinked, her mind slowly clearly as she realized what had happened—what she had done. The power she had been struggling to control had burst out of her again, but this time, it hadn’t destroyed anything. It hadn’t hurt him. 

It just looked as if it was spring in her room, vines sprouted from the floorboard, and flowers creeping in from the shattered windows. 

She looked up at Xaden, a smile creeping up onto her face. Her eyes glinted with desire and hunger as she looked up at this man who had unraveled her.

“You’re turn,” she purred, wrapping her legs around his waist as she practically climbed onto him, flipping him over on the bed. 

Xaden let out a sharp breath as Genevieve flipped him over, the surprise and desire mingling in his darkened gaze. His hands instinctively went to her hips, gripping them with a mix of control and surrender as she straddled him. The way she moved—fluid, confident—ignited something primal inside him, something that made it impossible to think of anything else but her. The way the glow of her power had bloomed around them, it was as if she had become the embodiment of every element of life itself. 

Genevieve leaned down, her lips bruising his neck in a slow, deliberate line of kisses down the center line of his abs that sent shivers through his body. His hands tightened on her waist, but he let her take control surrendering to her control completely. Her lips trailed down his chest, tracing the contours of his muscles, her hands following suit, exploring every inch of him as if she had all the time in the world. 

“Gods,” he breathed, his voice strained with the weight of his own need. “You’re going to be the death of me.” 

Genevieve smirked, her eyes gleaming with the same hunger she’d seen in his moments before. “That’s the plan,” she whispered, her voice teasing, but her movements anything but. 

Her fingers grazed over the waistband of his pants, and she felt his muscles tense beneath her touch. She didn’t rush—she savored every second, watching the way his body responded to her, the way his breath hitched whenever her fingers brushed just a little too close to where he ached for her. 

When she finally stripped him of the last barrier between them, the air seemed to crackle around them again, her signet sparking faintly in the background like a distant storm on the horizon. She took him in, her breath catching at the sight of him laid out beneath her, strong and waiting. 

Xaden was raw power incarnate, his body sculpted from years of battle and discipline. Every muscle defined, a testament to his strength and his life he’s led as a rider. His skin was sun-kissed, the golden hue of a man who was far more than tan, and spent more time outdoors than in, marked with the scars from past fights. They trailed over his broad shoulders, across his chest, and down the firm ridges of his abdomen like stories of battles long survived. But despite the evidence of his hard life, there was something undeniably beautiful about him, something that made Genevieve’s breath hitch. 

His body radiated heat, and she could feel it as she hovered over him, every inch of him alive with barely restrained energy. His chest rose and fell with labored breaths, his eyes dark and half-lidded as they traced her form above him. The intensity in his gaze was almost too much to bear—wild, hungry, and vulnerable all at once. His dark hair was mussed from where her fingers had been moments ago, his lips slightly parted, still swollen from their rough kisses. 

Genevieve’s gaze traveled lower, to where his hardness stood ready for her, and she couldn’t help but admire the sheer size of him. He was thick and powerful, every part of him mirroring the strength she knew resided inside him. It sent a rush of heat through her body, anticipation coiling in her belly. He was beautiful, yes—but there was also something dangerous in how much she wanted him, how much she needed to feel every inch of him inside her. 

For a moment, they were suspended in time—her, poised above him, and him, laid bare beneath her. He was hers to take, and gods, she wanted nothing more than to claim completely. 

Xaden’s hands moved to her hips, gripping her firmly as his voice broke the silence, rough and strained. “Genevieve,” he rasped, his control fraying at the edges, “take me.”

She didn’t make him wait long. With a fluid motion, she positioned herself above him, her body moving in perfect harmony with the storm raging in her veins. She could feel the tension between them, the heat, the raw desire that had building for what felt like forever. 

Xaden’s hands slid up her things, his grip firm as she lowered herself onto him, a gasp escaping her lips at the contact. He was big, but gods, he felt so good. The connection between them was electric, intense, as if they were made for this—made for each other. 

The weight of Genevieve’s body over his sent a shockwave of pleasure coursing through Xaden. His hands gripped her hips tighter as she began to move, slow at first, teasing him with every deliberate motion. He could feel every inch of her, every flew of her muscle as she took control, and it was dirtying him wild. 

He had wanted this for so long, longer than he’d ever admitted, and now that he had her—now that she had him—there was nothing else. Just her. The way she moved, the way her body responded to him, the way she made him feel as if every nerve was on fire. 

Genevieve leaned down, her hair falling like a curtain around them, her lips finding his again. The kiss was rough, desperate, as if she, too, was fighting to hold onto whatever control she still had. Xaden could feel her trembling, the raw need coursing through her matching his own, and it only fueled his desire. He wanted her to lose herself in him, to let go entirely, to fall apart the way he knew she could. 

“Gen,” he groaned, his voice thick with need as she moved faster, her hips bringing down onto him with an intensity that made him see stars. His hands roamed her body, memorizing every inch, every curve, every scare. She was more than he could have ever imagined, more than he deserved, but gods, he would worship her in every way she needed. 

Genevieve’s movements became more urgent, each shift of her hips pulling a guttural sound from Xaden’s throat. She could feel him beneath her, every muscle taut, trembling under the strain of holding back. But she didn’t want him to hold back—not anymore. She wanted him to unravel, just like she had, to feel everything she was feeling in that moment. 

Her fingers trailed up his arms and to his back, nails grazing his skin lightly as her pace quickened. The room was filled with the sound of their ragged breaths, the creak of the bed beneath them, and the heady rhythm of their bodies moving in perfect sync. Xaden’s hands slid up her back, guiding her classier until their foreheads touched, their breaths mingling in the small space between them. 

“Gen,” he rasped, his voice a low growl. His grip on her hips tightened, and she could feel the shift in him—the moment when restraint turned into raw, unfiltered need. “I—fuck—I can’t hold on much longer.” 

 A wicked smile tugged at the corner of her lips, her body moving in sync with his rising desperation. “Then don’t,” she whispered, her voice breathless but sure. “Let go, Xaden. I want to feel all of you.” 

Her words undid him. 

With a guttural groan, he shifted beneath her, his hands gripping her waist as he thrust up into her with a force that sent shockwaves through her entire body. Genevieve gasped, her head falling back as the pleasure intensified, her body trembling under the onslaught of sensations. She dug her nails into his shoulders, grounding herself as her world spiraled out of control. 

The rhythm between them grew frantic, urgent, as if the world would end if they didn’t find release together. Xaden’s hands never left her body, his touch reverent in the midst of his desperation. She could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter inside her, ready to snap.

“Gen—” Xaden’s voice was hoarse, his breath coming in ragged gasps, as he thrust into her harder, faster, the intensity building to a breaking point. “I’m—”

“Me too,” she gasped, her body clenching around him as the pleasure became too much to bear. “Xaden, I’m—”

Before she could finish, the wave of ecstasy crashed over her, stealing her breath, her vision, her thoughts. She cried out his name, her body shaking with the force of her release as the world seemed to shatter around her. Xaden followed her over the edge moments later, his body stiffening beneath her as he groaned her name, his release just as powerful, just as overwhelming. 

For a long moment, they stayed like that—bodies entwined, chests heaving, the world around them fading into a hazy, blissful silence. Genevieve collapsed onto Xaden’s chest, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his skin as she tried to catch her breath. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer, as if he couldn’t bear to let her go. 

“Gods, you’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice still rough, but there was a softness to it, an intimacy that hadn’t been there before. 

Genevieve smiled against his chest, her own heart still racing. “I think we both are.”

He chuckled softly, his fingers threading through her hair. “You’re glowing again.”

Genevieve lifted her head, her eyes meeting his. She knew he wasn’t just talking about her signet this time. 

“So are you.”

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omg i cannot believe I just posted this, do you know how hard this was to write?? This is actually my first attempt at writing smut and I don't think I'm very good at it (i suck at it), but i know the only way to get better is to practice, so I wrote this chapter and there will be at least another two(?) before the books end.

If you have any feedback, please let me know. What did you all like? what did you hate? What do you want to see next time? I'm desperate to improve in writing smut, as I still find it a little stiff and awkward, so please tell me everything.

Anyways, thats it for this chapter! Genevieve and Xaden had their moment and we'll be back to scheduled programming (Genevieve being reckless and Xaden wanting her to chill out) on wednesday! Leave a heart, like, comment, or just let me know your thoughts! see you all soon~