#sawyer x ridoc

[callsign-rogueone]

lean on me

Sawyer Henrick + Ridoc Gamlyn Sawyer runs out of painkiller and drags himself, fully clothed, into an ice-cold shower in an attempt to take the edge off. It works, but once he sits down on the tile floor, he can’t get back up to turn the water off. Feeling that his rider is trapped there, freezing cold and dissociating, Sliseag reaches out to Aotrom, who sends Ridoc to the rescue. words: 3.2k 🏷️: trying something new, so be gentle with me pls, written before the release of Onyx Storm, set 2-ish weeks after the end of Iron Flame. nonsexual nudity, brief description of Sawyer’s injury site (Rid changing his bandages) but no blood or anything, mentions of nausea and skipping meals, the word puke is used exactly once, painkiller reliance, negative self-talk — Sawyer’s self esteem issues re: the injury and not bonding in his first year make an appearance, as well as Ridoc's guilt for letting things get this bad. this could be read either as platonic or as a ship fic, if you want. there’s mutual I love you’s in there, but nothing too romantical — and if you aren’t cuddling with your homies on the regular, wyd?

“Sliseag’s boy needs you.”

Ridoc is out his door and down the stairs in seconds, headed to the first-floor room they’d moved Sawyer into after he’d been discharged from the infirmary. The door is unlocked, the room empty, but he can hear water running in the bathroom right across the hall.

“Sawyer?”

No response. 

Then he sees a person sat against the wall under the spray of one of the faucets — unmistakably Sawyer, from their red-brown hair and pale skin. He’s still dressed. He hadn’t drawn the curtain, seemingly just turned the water on and sat down under it.

“Sy?” Ridoc tries again quietly, not wanting to startle him — nothing. He reaches up to turn the water off, and only then does Sawyer seem to notice his presence, looking up from his blank stare at the opposite wall.

His cheeks are wet, hair plastered to his forehead, eyes red and swollen from crying. His entire body is trembling — from pain or from the cold, Ridoc can’t tell. How long has he been sitting here?

Ridoc steps into the shower and kneels beside him. Water instantly soaks into the knees of his pants, but he’s used to the cold, being an ice wielder. Regardless, he isn’t focused on that right now, just on making sure Sawyer is okay.

Maybe okay isn’t the right word. There’s clearly something wrong if he’s in the shower fully clothed, and okay might be too lofty a goal for him these days after losing more than half a leg. 

Sawyer blinks a few times, coming back to reality and seeing the soft expression on Ridoc’s face — not pity, but genuine concern and love.

Sawyer had pushed him away for two weeks, pushed everyone away and insisted he’d be fine on his own, but Ridoc is here with him now. He was willing to climb in with him, to sit across from him in the cold water and guide him back into reality. He knew something was wrong, despite Sawyer’s reassurances that he was fine, and he sought him out in hopes of fixing it. 

“Hey,” Ridoc coaxes softly. “Talk to me.”

Sawyer can’t form words. Tears start to slip down his freckled cheeks, mixing with the cold shower water that’s still dripping from every inch of him. 

Ridoc moves closer, until he’s just inches away — hesitant, not wanting to cause him further pain. 

Sawyer closes the gap for him, letting his head drop against Ridoc’s shoulder as he continues to cry, quiet little sniffles that break Ridoc’s heart right in half.

“I know it hurts, Sy. I’m so sorry.”

He wraps the older boy in a hug, not minding the cold water that soaks from Sawyer’s clothes into his. His heart clenches as he realizes how thin Sawyer has gotten without the daily exercise, and without as much food — the healers had said something about the pain tonic reducing appetite and causing nausea, but the squad had been too relieved that he was still alive to properly focus on the instructions they’d been given. 

Ridoc can’t help but berate himself for letting it get this bad. He should have been more careful. He should have checked in on Sawyer more often, ignored the boy’s insistence that he’d be fine in his own room at Basgiath, and that the rest of the squad shouldn’t let him keep them grounded. 

Second squad had agreed without too much protest, knowing that the fight was far from over, and they needed as many trained riders as they could get.

Still, it shouldn’t have come to this. 

“I’m so sorry,” he repeats, bringing a hand up to smooth down his wet curls. “We should have been there for you earlier.”

Sawyer doesn’t respond, but his breathing has steadied, the sniffling quieted. He’s still shivering, leaning into Ridoc for warmth — he must have been sitting here for some time if he’s this cold. 

“Let’s get you dried off,” Ridoc coaxes. 

Sawyer nods against his shoulder, taking a breath to brace himself for the discomfort of standing again. 

Ridoc rises to his knees, then his feet, hooking his arms under Sawyer’s to help him up. Sawyer pushes up off the floor, a soft cry parting his lips as the movement sends a needle of pain up his spine.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Ridoc soothes, the only thing he can think to say at the moment. “Hold on to me, it’ll take the pressure off.”

Sawyer shifts his weight, making the five steps to the small bench more bearable. 

Ridoc finds a clean-enough towel on the counter, extending it to Sawyer. “Dry your hair if you can. I’m gonna find you some clean clothes, okay? I’ll be right back, I promise.”

Sawyer makes the slightest nod of understanding, back to his slow-blinking silence. 

Time has been reduced to the slow drip of water down his face. He doesn’t know how late it is, or how long he had sat in the shower. It’s dark out, but it’s January — it gets dark after four. 

Ridoc is back quickly. Sawyer still hasn’t dried his hair, so he takes the towel back from him, working it through the wet red curls gently. His hair has gotten long enough to cover the tops of his ears. Ridoc would offer to do something about it later, but he’s not sure Sawyer would trust him with the task. Rhi, maybe. 

“Arms up,” Ridoc coaxes.

Sawyer complies, allowing Ridoc to peel the soaked tunic off. It’s unceremoniously dropped to the floor with a quiet splat, replaced with a soft towel that Ridoc wraps around his shoulders.

“Alright. How do you want to do the pants?” Ridoc asks gently. “We’ve seen each other naked before, so I don’t care either way, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable — and I don’t want this to hurt.”

“It’s going to hurt no matter what,” Sawyer says distantly, the first words he’s spoken since Ridoc found him. His voice is a raw whisper, hoarse from disuse. “I can take them off myself if I have something to lean on. Putting new ones on is always harder.”

“Okay. Whenever you’re ready,” Ridoc offers quietly, holding out two hands. 

Sawyer wavers a bit as he stands, holding onto Ridoc’s right forearm with one hand as he finds his balance, then slowly starts pulling down one side of the waistband, then the other, until they drop to the floor, a wet heap of fabric around his remaining foot. 

Ridoc doesn’t know if he’ll ever get used to that sight, if it’ll ever stop feeling like a punch to the gut.

It’s not about you, he reminds himself. However uncomfortable and upset you are about this, Sawyer is probably ten times as much — it’s his body, his life that’s changed forever. 

Ridoc guides him back down onto the bench, kicking the soaked shorts aside, next to the shirt, and looks at Sawyer, trying to read the expression on his face. 

“Do you want a break, or…”

He shakes his head. “Pass me the shirt?”

Ridoc hands him the dry t-shirt he’d found in Sawyer’s room, one of the few clean garments he had left. He doesn’t ask if Sawyer wants help with this part — he gets the feeling that this is probably deeply embarrassing for him, and that he wants to do as much as he can on his own.

Sawyer tugs it over his head, easily putting his arms through the sleeves, and stepping through one leg of the boxers, pulling them up to his knee.

Ridoc extends an arm again, a silent indicator that he’s ready when Sawyer is. 

Sawyer takes another breath, gritting his teeth as he stands, but he seems more steady this time — putting more of his weight on Ridoc, trusting the other boy to hold him up as he dresses himself. 

Back down again. Sawyer takes a second to catch his breath, willing himself not to cry again.

“Shorts too, or…”

Sawyer shakes his head no. He doesn’t want to go through the up-and-down again, and he just wants to sleep. That’s all he’s really done this week, because sleep is the only place he’s comfortable — if you don’t count the nightmares, that is. 

“Okay. Can I look at the bandage?”

Sawyer nods, exhausted but knowing that the wrapping needs to be replaced; it’s soaked, the cotton gauze swollen with water. He definitely wasn’t supposed to bathe with it on, but he wasn’t really in his right mind when he’d dragged himself into the shower, just desperate for any sort of relief from the bone-deep ache and the shooting pains that keep coming whenever he moves.

Ridoc unwraps the dressing gently, keeping one hand on Sawyer’s other leg in an attempt at comfort, and bracing himself for the worst, but trying to maintain a neutral expression on his face. 

It’s not as bad as he’d thought. It doesn’t look infected, and the stitches are still holding the skin together in two intersecting, slightly-wavy lines. They’re probably ready to be removed — he’ll ask about that tomorrow morning, when he takes Sawyer to see the healers.

Ridoc tosses the wet bandages into the trash, reaching under the sink for the basic first aid kit that’s kept in every bathroom in the dorms. There’s enough gauze in there to make a passable re-creation of the neat dressing that had been on it before. It’ll only have to last the night, anyway; the healers will put on a new one in the morning. 

“Is that too tight?” Ridoc asks, looking up at him.

Sawyer shakes his head no, eyes still closed. He’s so tired, even after a day of doing hardly anything.

Ridoc stands, gathering the wet clothes and wringing them out over the sink. He’ll wash them tomorrow — Sawyer is running out of clean clothes, having been pretty much bedbound for the last two and a half weeks and unable to do his own laundry.

“You ready to get back in bed?” — A nod. — “Do you want your crutches, or do you want to lean on me?”

“You,” Sawyer says softly, blinking up at Ridoc. He’s struggling to keep his eyes open.

Ridoc pushes down the little swell of pride at Sawyer’s choice, draping the boy’s arm across his shoulders and hooking an arm around his waist to hoist him up. He lets Sawyer set the pace for the twenty-foot walk back to his new room, making sure that he’s well-supported. 

Thankfully, Sawyer had never warded his new room, so the door swings open easily, and Ridoc carefully deposits him on the edge of his bed, tossing the still-damp clothes in his laundry basket. 

Looking at the clock on his desk through bleary eyes, Sawyer can see that it’s sometime between ten and eleven. Ten thirty, maybe. A reasonable enough hour to go to sleep.

Ridoc should be going to bed soon, if he wants to get a decent amount of sleep before the standard six a.m. wakeup required of the cadets that hadn’t been permanently injured in the battle — everyone but Sawyer. 

He’s tired of being the exception. He should be out there training with them, not spending his days sleeping in an uncomfortable first-year bed.

Being back on the first floor for the third year in a row has broken him. 

Being in this room all day reminds him of his first first year, when he was one of the only cadets who hadn’t been chosen at Threshing, and thus couldn’t attend most of the classes that everyone else did — leaving him to spend the bigger half of six months entirely alone.

Every hour within these walls is another reminder of his failure. Death by a thousand cuts, or whatever they say. 

“Talk to me,” Ridoc says softly. “Tell me what I can do to help you.”

“I don’t know,” he whispers, his voice cracking. If Ridoc doesn’t leave soon, if he doesn’t stop looking at him like that, all soft and concerned, Sawyer is going to cry again. The first time was humiliating enough.

Ridoc keeps pushing, deciding yes-or-no questions might be less overwhelming. “Do you want to eat something?”

Sawyer shakes his head no quickly — he definitely doesn’t want food. Even the idea of eating is enough to turn his stomach. At least Ridoc hadn’t seen him puke. 

“Okay. You should probably get some sleep, then.”

Sleep is good. Sleep will numb the pain for a while, and he’s so tired… probably because he’s hardly eaten since he moved out of the infirmary and the healers stopped forcing him to choke down three meals a day. 

That had been torture. 

Sawyer nods, starting to shuffle back from his seat on the edge of the bed. The bed is unmade, as it has been for the last week and a half, so he’s able to scoot under the duvet easily, pulling it up over himself with minimal discomfort.

Ridoc helps him get settled, draping him with an extra blanket, because Sawyer’s skin is still cold to the touch. He quickly pulls his eyes away from the space where Sawyer’s other leg should be, that’s now just flat, only blankets laid over the mattress.

“If there’s anything you need, anything at all, have Sli tell Aotrom, okay?”

Sawyer nods again, the soft cotton of his pillowcase making a whispering sound under his cheek.

Ridoc straightens the books on Sawyer's desk, picking up a few dirty clothing items that Sawyer had dropped — damn tremors caused by that extra-strength pain tonic that he’d been using around the clock — and hadn’t been able to bend down to reach, or even to kick toward the laundry basket. So on the floor they’ve remained, all week — until now.

Sawyer feels a spike of cold move through his chest, his pulse jumping at the thought of Ridoc leaving, telling him goodnight and disappearing for another two weeks.

“Rid?” he asks in a small voice.

The other boy perks up at the sound of his friend speaking. “Yeah?”

“Do you want to sleep over?”

The question hangs in the air for a moment before Sawyer starts to take it back. “Obviously you don’t have to. I just thought it would be nice. The way it used to be, in Aretia.”

If Ridoc catches the panic in Sawyer’s voice, he doesn’t bring it up. “I thought you’d never admit it,” he says with a slow smile that Sawyer can hear, even with his eyes closed. “You miss me.”

It’s unclear if Sawyer can hear the thick guilt covered by Ridoc’s teasing. 

Of course he misses you, Ridoc thinks. You haven’t spoken to him in a week. He needed you, but he didn’t ask for help because he didn’t think you’d care. 

You’re a shitty friend.

“Should I steal some of Imogen’s black nail polish, or do you want to make popcorn and talk about cute boys?”

“Get the fuck out,” Sawyer snorts, and then regrets it immediately — What if Ridoc can’t tell that he’s joking? 

“Alright. GTFO-ing.”

Ridoc closes the door behind him quietly.

Sawyer squeezes his eyes shut, because he knows that if he opens them, the walls will start to press in on him. This room is the same size as the one he’d had in his parents’ home in Luceras, if not bigger, but after spending two weeks in it pretty much non-stop, it feels like a birdcage or a fish tank that he’d been shoved into.

That’s why he’d never warded the door. He already feels trapped here. If he becomes too weak to channel, he’d be trapped for real.

He hasn’t tried to use his signet, or any of the basic magic, since the battle. It’s unclear if he can, but Sli comes and goes in his mind, and that little red string had remained tied to his rib all through the surgery and his delirium afterward, never once fading or faltering, so he should still have access to it, but he might be too weak to do anything significant with it.

When he gets some of his energy back, he’ll try again. Maybe he can do something useful with it. They can park him in a chair and have him make weapons, more of the runed daggers. That way he’d be helping, instead of dragging everyone down. 

That’s exactly what he’d tried not to do, and look where it had landed him. 

Ridoc opens the door again after what’s probably fifteen minutes. He’s pajama-clad, his hair damp from the shower, with a pillow tucked under one arm and his duvet knotted around his shoulders like a cape.

“You came back,” Sawyer murmurs. He’s already half-asleep, his eyes closed and cheek smushed into his pillow. 

“Of course I did. It’s not every day that your adult male best friend asks you for a sleepover.”

Ridoc scoots the desk chair aside, making space for himself to lay down on the small rug there, untying the duvet-cape. 

Sawyer scoots himself over toward the other side of the bed, gritting his teeth. “The floor will fuck up your back. Get up here.”

“If you insist,” Ridoc replies with a grin. 

Sawyer would roll his eyes if it wasn’t such an effort to keep them open, about to jokingly retract his offer — only to wince at the feeling of the mattress shifting underneath him. 

Ridoc apologizes his way under the covers, trying not to jostle him too much. “I’d offer to rock-paper-scissors over who gets to be the little spoon, but I don’t want to hurt you.”

That gets a lazy laugh out of him, finally. 

Ridoc doesn’t think he’s seen Sawyer smile or laugh since before they left Aretia. They’d been in Battle Brief, and Ridoc had made a gods-awful pun around one of Brennan’s serious statements. It had nearly gotten the both of them kicked out of the auditorium from how hard they’d been laughing.

“Thank you for finding me,” Sawyer murmurs. “Probably would have died of hypothermia or something if you hadn’t.”

His hair is nearly dry now, the almost-ginger strands curling up in odd places. Ridoc reaches over to smooth a few of them down, but they spring back up after a few seconds. He keeps doing it anyway. 

“You can thank Sli for that, really. He told Aotrom to tell me that you needed help. He loves you, y’know. And he knows that none of this was your fault.” 

There’s a soft pause. “We all know that you’d be out there with us if you could. It isn’t the same without you, but until you’re healed and you can make yourself a super badass custom prosthetic and fly with us again, we’ll look out for each other. And I’ll help you with whatever you need — I’m really sorry for dropping the ball on that. I was a shitty friend, and there’s no excuse for it, really, but I’ll try my best to make it up to you.”

It’s a lot to process, and Sawyer is too tired to respond to all of it, but he’s able to sum it up in two mumbled words. “Love you.”

Ridoc smiles, moving his hand away from Sawyer’s hair. “I love you too, dude. Get some sleep.”

Later that night, when Sawyer rolls over and tucks himself into Ridoc’s arms, he doesn’t feel cold anymore, and the pain has dulled.

He decides that he wants pancakes for breakfast.

[mattyalwayssmokesweed]

Would anyone be interested in a fanfic about an arranged marriage between Xaden and Violet where Tyrrendor wins the Battle of Aretia, Xaden is the crown prince, and Violet is taken by Fen after the war to ensure Navarre doesn’t step over the line? And Violet is raised alongside Liam and Sloane? And Liam doesn’t die? And Xaden is certified simp but Violet hates him because she’s being forced into a marriage without her consent? And there’s a very big secret about Violet only Fen knows about? 👀👀

“Our armies in Aretia have fallen, your highness.”

King Tauri rose from his throne in a swift movement. His hands gripped the fine clothes he wore as he cursed.

“Where is General Sorrengail?” He asked. He looked out of breath, even though he had barely moved.

“She’s returning to Navarre, with her husband,” he hesitated. “They… Fen Riorson—” Tauri growled at the mention of that name. “He… he has taken Sorrengail’s youngest, Violet, as hostage.”

“What?” he all but screamed. It couldn’t be… Could he know about what Violet truly was?

“He said she will stay in Aretia with them, to ensure you respect his demands as the new king of Tyrrendor.”

“For how long?” he asked.

[angstywaifu]

Violet: If I fall… Xaden: I’ll be there to catch you. Ophelia: *looks at Garrick* What if I fall? Garrick: Then I’ll fall with you, never leaving your side. Ridoc: *watches these two interactions* Ridoc, to Sawyer: And if I fall? Sawyer: I’ll be the one who pushed you.

[fourthwingfan]

Madness Masterlist

Introduction Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 - coming soon

[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

★・・・・・・★

[mrsjoeythehurler]

When I Met You

(OC FMC x Liam Mairi)

I’ve decided to write a fic about an OC and Liam Mairi from Fourth Wing. It’s going to follow the events of the first book and I’m so excited to share it with you. This is my first fic I’ve ever written so keep that in mind while reading :)

I hope you enjoy it!

All characters except for Aurora Sallow who is my OC and the FMC of this fic belong to Rebecca Yarros. The plot of Fourth Wing also belongs to Rebecca Yarros.

Content Warnings: most of the warnings that are for Fourth Wing are also going to be for this fic. That includes: Blood, death, injury, violence and war. The only content warning I am adding is panic attacks (2).

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ Aurora Sallow ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

It's Conscription Day—a day I'm not particularly happy to take part in, but I don't have a choice.

I was always meant to become a Scribe. I was always meant to look at books all day and spend my time transcribing them. It's what I've been studying for since I could remember.

That all changed when my parents sat me down two days ago to tell me I was required to become a Rider. My whole world was flipped upside down, my entire future ripped away from me in one 20-minute conversation.

The Riders' Quadrant is apparently in need of more Riders. I heard it's because most dragons are uninterested in bonding with humans, and I'm one of the unlucky ones who's been chosen to try and change that.

Looking around me, I see guards mounted on either side of the entrance and walking about. I see people hugging and conversing with their loved ones and the occasional person silently praying, most likely to any gods who will listen to ensure their safety. They're probably going towards the same destination as me.

Sighing, I look down and make sure my outfit is in order before fixing my hair. I tried to dress appropriately for the Riders' Quadrant—well, as appropriately as my closet back home had to offer. I'm wearing a gray long-sleeved shirt and corset, black pants that are a bit too tight for my liking, and my favorite pair of black platform boots. I'm just about to look through my bag to double-check that I have everything when I hear a familiar voice.

It's Violet Sorrengail. We've been classmates for a really long time. She's always been really kind and someone I consider a friend. Like me, Violet always wanted to become a Scribe; we would always talk about our hopes for the future and look forward to reading books all day.

What is she doing in this line?

She's talking to her sister Mira, so I don't want to interrupt, but I want to know why she's not with the Scribes anymore. She was always among the most intelligent people in our class, if not the smartest. She was going to be the best Scribe the Quadrant ever had. I don't see her wanting to give that up, especially considering it was her dream.

The line continues to move slowly, and when there's only one person ahead of me, I start to really feel the anxiety. I don't know how I'm going to do this. I didn't know two days ago, and I sure as hell don't know now. Who knows if I'll even pass the Parapet? I could be slowly walking towards my death right now. Maybe I should have talked to my parents more and tried to convince them that I can't do this and that anyone else out there is a better fit for this than I am. But I hate disappointing people. My parents don't even know that my panic attacks are back. They were so happy and relieved that I was doing better over the last year, but it all fell apart.

"Next!" Someone calls from ahead of the line.

It's a rider, a marked rider. Along with Captain Fitzgibbons, who’s a Scribe. "Aurora Sallow? First Violet Sorrengail, and now you?"

I give him a small smile. "I'm sorry, sir."

He nods. "It will be sad to see you go. Your future as a Scribe looked so bright."

I want to cry. Instead, I keep my small smile in place and try my best to keep my voice level. "Thank you."

As I go through the entrance, I climb the hundreds of stairs.

After what feels like 100 hours, I'm at the top of the turret, and it's raining. The turret is all stone, formed in a circular platform. The river below shines, with the sun glinting off the surface. Darkness runs through it that rivals the deep sea. I shouldn't have looked down.

Straight ahead lies the Parapet. It's a very slim bridge made of stone with nothing on either side to hold onto. It's a test to see how well you would manage while riding a dragon.

I'm screwed.

There are three riders at the entrance, but only one catches my eye—a mountain of a man with black hair and warm, tawny skin. He turns my way, and I can see the scar running through his left eyebrow, and that's when I know who it is. Xaden Riorson.

Xaden is the son of the Great Betrayer, Fen Riorson, who led the Rebellion. All of the children of the rebels were forced to join the Riders' Quadrant in response to their parents' decisions. I bet they hoped Xaden would get killed, but they were wrong. He's a third-year Wingleader now.

And he's also kind of scary.

Once he sees me staring at him, he narrows his eyes. I'm not sure if it's with recognition or disgust.

Then, I decide to wave at him like an idiot.

He turns back to talk to the Rider beside him, pretending I don't exist.

Yeah, I'm so screwed.

"Next!" Another Rider calls, and I step forward.

[nickeverdeen]

Not saying “I love you too” to the Fourth Wing characters before they leave

Violet Sorrengail

Violet’s mind would immediately race, wondering if something is wrong but trying to keep her cool

She would try to brush it off, telling herself it’s not a big deal, but the hurt would linger

Throughout the day, she’d find herself distracted, replaying the moment in her head

She might overanalyze every interaction leading up to it, questioning if she said or did something wrong

She’d send a check-in later, casually asking if you’re okay, trying not to sound too worried.

She’d confide in Rhiannon about it, seeking advice on whether she should be concerned

Violet’s insecurities would flare up slightly, making her wonder if you’re distancing yourself

She’d miss you more than usual during the day, longing for reassurance

The next time she leaves, she might hesitate before saying “I love you,” waiting to see if you say it first

Violet would gently ask you about it, trying to get to the root of the issue

She might have trouble sleeping, her mind not letting go of the small interaction

She might subtly distance herself, unsure of where you both stand.

Violet might subtly seek reassurance in other ways, like asking if you’re happy with her

Despite the worry, she’d find herself doodling your name absentmindedly

After you finally talk about it and reassure her that it’s a prank, she’d feel a huge weight lift off her shoulders

Xaden Riorson

Xaden would maintain a stoic expression, not letting on that it bothered him

Internally, he’d feel a mix of confusion and frustration, but he’d suppress it

He might briefly wonder if he’s to blame, questioning if he did something to cause it

Xaden wouldn’t talk about it with anyone, keeping his feelings bottled up

He’d become extra protective, channeling his emotions into making sure you’re safe

In his mind, he’d see this as a test of loyalty, waiting to see if it’s a one-time thing or a pattern

He’d throw himself into work or training, trying to distract himself from the lingering doubt

Xaden might subtly monitor your behavior, looking for other signs of distance

Despite his tough exterior, he’d deeply long for your reassurance

He might start to feel a bit of fear, though he wouldn’t show it

He’d put up a colder exterior, trying to protect himself from potential hurt

Xaden might test your feelings subtly, seeing how you react to his affection

He might indirectly bring it up, making a vague comment about how much he values honesty

He’d show his care through protective gestures, even if he’s feeling unsure

Once you reassure him that it’s a prank, he’d feel a mix of relief and a renewed sense of connection

Liam Mairi

Liam would be immediately worried, thinking something might be wrong

He’d probably ask you directly if everything’s okay, his concern clear

If you brush it off, he’d try to reassure you softly, even if he’s still a bit uneasy

He’d be extra affectionate the next time he sees you, trying to make up for the missed words

His protective instincts would kick in, making him even more attentive to your needs

He might casually mention it to a close friend, seeking advice on how to handle it

Liam would keep a subtle watch on your mood, making sure you’re truly okay

He’d go out of his way to do something nice for you, wanting to see you smile

He’d worry that you might be pulling away, even if there’s no real reason

Liam would become even more supportive, trying to show you how much he cares

He might plan a small surprise, hoping it will cheer you up and bring you closer

He’d have a heartfelt conversation with you, wanting to clear the air

He might have trouble sleeping, his mind occupied with thoughts of you

After you talk and reassure him that it’s a prank, he’d feel a deep sense of relief, his worries melting away

Rhiannon Matthias

Rhiannon would be confused at first, not understanding why you didn’t say it back

She’d start to doubt herself, wondering if she did something to upset you

She’d subtly check on you throughout the day, making sure you’re not upset

She’d be extra kind and gentle with you, hoping to smooth over any potential issues

Rhiannon would definitely overthink the situation, replaying it in her mind

She might seek comfort in small gestures, like holding your hand or cuddling with you

Rhiannon would feel a bit insecure, wondering if you’re losing interest

She might write you a sweet note, hoping to bring a smile to your face

She’d worry that something has changed between you, even if it’s just in her head

Rhiannon would be extra thoughtful, trying to anticipate your needs and make you happy

She might start to subtly distance herself, afraid of getting hurt

She’d have nervous energy, fidgeting more than usual when she’s around you

Once you reassure her that it’s a prank, she’d feel a wave of relief, her usual confidence returning

Dain Aetos

Dain would be immediately concerned, thinking something might be wrong

He’d ask you directly if everything’s okay, his tone serious and caring

Dain would go into overprotective mode, making sure you’re okay in every possible way

He’d plan a special date or outing, hoping to reconnect and make things right

Dain would be extra attentive, making sure you feel loved and appreciated

He’d reassure you with his actions, doing little things to show he cares

Dain would worry internally, even if he doesn’t show it on the outside

He’d subtly seek validation from you, looking for signs that you still care

He might have a sleepless night, his mind racing with thoughts of you

Dain would overanalyze the situation, trying to figure out if he missed any signs

He might ask again later if everything’s okay, just to make sure

Once you reassure him that it’s a prank, he’d feel a deep sense of relief, his worry melting away

Imogen

Imogen would be confused at first, not understanding why you didn’t say it back

She’d play it off casually, but the confusion would linger in her mind

Imogen would subtly keep an eye on you, looking for signs that something’s wrong

She wouldn’t push you to talk about it, respecting your space

Imogen might give you a bit more space, thinking you might need it

She’d worry in silence, not wanting to burden you with her concerns

Imogen would be extra careful with her words and actions, trying not to upset you

She’d subtly seek reassurance from you, hoping to feel closer to you

Imogen would feel conflicted, not wanting to make a big deal out of it but also feeling uneasy

Doesn’t talk to anyone about it as this is her personal business

She might start to subtly distance herself, unsure of what’s going on

Once you reassure her that it’s a prank, she’d feel a wave of relief, her worries melting away

Jack Barlowe

Jack would feel immediate annoyance, wondering why you didn’t say it back

He’d mask his insecurity with a sarcastic comment, trying to play it off

Jack might overcompensate by being overly affectionate the next time he sees you

He’d seek validation from you, wanting to make sure you still care

Jack wouldn’t talk about it directly, keeping his feelings bottled up

He’d feel internal frustration, not understanding why it bothered him so much

Jack might make sarcastic comments, trying to cover up his feelings

He’d go into protective mode, making sure you’re okay in every possible way

Jack would throw himself into work or training, trying to distract himself from his feelings

He might indirectly bring it up, making a vague comment about how much he values honesty

He might start to feel a bit of resentment, though he wouldn’t show it

Jack might test your feelings subtly, seeing how you react to his affection

He’d show his care through protective gestures, even if he’s feeling unsure

Once you reassure him that it’s a prank, he’d feel a mix of relief and a renewed sense of connection

Sawyer

Sawyer would play it off with a joke, not wanting to make it awkward

Despite his playful exterior, he’d feel a sting of disappointment

He might bring it up later in a casual way, just to see if you’re okay

Sawyer would keep things light-hearted, not wanting to put pressure on you

Later, when he’s alone, he’d overthink the situation, wondering if he did something wrong

The next time he sees you, he’d be extra affectionate, hoping to make up for whatever he did

He might check in with a Ridoc, casually asking if you’re okay

Despite his calm demeanor, he’d worry that you’re upset with him

Sawyer would be extra attentive, trying to gauge your mood and see if anything’s off

He’d plan a fun outing, hoping to reconnect and make sure you’re okay

Sawyer would avoid having a serious talk about it, preferring to keep things light

He’d subtly look for signs that you’re still interested in him, even if it’s just in your actions

He’d feel a bit of internal conflict, wanting to know what’s wrong but not wanting to push you

Once you reassure him that it’s a prank, he’d feel a wave of relief, his playful nature returning full force

Ridoc

Ridoc would immediately joke about you not saying it, trying to lighten the mood

He’d briefly wonder if you were joking or if you meant it seriously

Ridoc would pretend not to care, brushing it off with a laugh

Despite his outward calm, he’d think about it later, wondering if something’s up

He might bring it up in a light-hearted way later, asking if everything’s okay

Ridoc would tease you gently about it, hoping to get a reaction

The next time he sees you, he’d be extra playful, trying to keep things light

Ridoc would worry in silence, not wanting to make a big deal out of it

He’d keep things casual, not wanting to pressure you into explaining

Ridoc might subtly check in with you more often, making sure you’re okay

He’d plan a fun day together, hoping to reconnect and make you laugh

Ridoc would feel a bit of internal conflict, not wanting to push you but also feeling uneasy

He’d avoid having a serious talk about it, preferring to keep things light.

Once you reassure him that it’s a prank, he’d feel a wave of relief, his usual playful self returning

Garrick

Garrick would feel immediate concern, thinking something might be wrong

He’d ask you directly if everything’s okay, his tone serious and caring

Garrick would go into overprotective mode, making sure you’re okay in every possible way

He’d plan a special date or outing, hoping to reconnect and make things right

Garrick would be extra attentive, making sure you feel loved and appreciated

He’d reassure you with his actions, doing little things to show he cares

Garrick would worry internally, even if he doesn’t show it on the outside

He’d subtly seek validation from you, looking for signs that you still care

He might have a sleepless night, his mind racing with thoughts of you

Garrick would overanalyze the situation, trying to figure out if he missed any signs

He might ask again later if everything’s okay, just to make sure

Garrick would become even more protective, making sure you’re safe and happy

He’d feel a bit of internal conflict, not wanting to push you but also feeling uneasy

Once you reassure him that it’s a prank, he’d feel a deep sense of relief, his worry melting away.

[marvelsmylife]

Are you guys ready to get your hearts ripped out (both in a good and bad way)

I’m doing this drabble series with the ACOTAR men and wanted to also do this with my Fourth Wing fellas. Tell me which quote from Ana Huang’s books fits each guy from the book. The men involved are Xaden, Bodhi, Garrick, Liam, Ridoc, Sawyer, Brennan, Dain.

“Because you haven’t chosen me. Not in a very very long time” (Brennan x reader)

“I went from wanting to kill you…to willing to kill for you.” (Xaden x reader)

“But someone once told me we always end up where we're meant to be, and this is where I'm meant to be. With you.” (Ridoc x reader)

“You will always be my first, last and only love” (Bodhi x reader)

“You are the light to my dark, Sunshine,” he said in a raw voice. His lips brushed against mine as he spoke. “Without you, I’m lost.” (Garrick x reader)

“I'm sorry for hurting you...for pushing you away...for ever making you feel unwanted when you're the only person I've ever loved (Dain x reader)

“Somehow, somewhere along the way, I’d fallen in love … Not like or lust. Love, in all its terrifying, unpredictable, unwanted glory” (Sawyer x reader)

“When I’m not with her, I wish she were there. When I am with her, I want that moment to last forever.” (Liam x reader)

[amanita-muscaria-lover]

Iron Flame lines that have altered my brain chemistry:

"She made her choice, and it wasn't you. It will never be you."

"I'd rather you scream at me than pretend everything is all right with silence."

"then what about the wabern, or whatever you called them?"

"Do I know something about the Archives that you don't?"

"And I still don't regret it, Vi. Not one second."

"You're all right... I'll be right here. I'm not going to leave you."

I look up into the wrath of Dunne in the form of gold-flecked onyx eyes.

"My heart only beats as long as yours does, and when you die, I'll meet Malek at your side."

The entire cliff, above and below, echoes it, as if the gryphons grieve the loss of the flier as one.

"You've earned an honorable death."

"My house. My chair. My woman."

"Look at how beautiful you are, Violet, coming for me on Tyrrendor's throne."

"That trick you mentioned? You know, with the fingers? Thanks."

"I fucking love you."

"I'm sorry. I choose your life, too. You are mine. I can't let you die."

"Less than a minute."

[divinerivals]

Rhiannon: Alright Vi, what's your secret?

Violet: I'm in love with Xaden.

Sawyer: I'm sorry?

Violet: Xaden. I'm in love with Xaden Riorson.

Ridoc: Yeah, I don't think she knows what a secret is.

[mattyalwayssmokesweed]

It just dawned on me… what if Brennan’s signet is mending because what he wanted most in the world was to help Violet with her pain? They say signets are what the rider is at their core and, despite his many flaws, Brennan loves Violet.

He grew up watching his little sister —someone he should keep safe— always in pain, always breaking, always crying, and it made him wish he could do something about it, so his signet gave him a chance to help her. Because, back then, before the venin and the Battle of Aretia, Brennan was first and foremost a brother, Violet’s brother.

[anothermarkedone]

Empyrean masterlist

I don't see many Garrick, Bodhi, Ridoc, Sawyer, Rhiannon and Imogen fics, so I've decided to make my own!

IMPORTANT NOTE! Don't expect many fast posts, I'm currently focusing on my mental health and I'm also busy writing for the Avatar movies (with the blue people, not the elements lol) If you're into Avatar, follow my Avatar acc @avatarrecom!

Requests are open!

Who I write for:

Garrick Tavis.

Bodhi Durran.

Rhiannon Matthias.

Imogen Cardulo.

Ridoc Gamlyn.

Sawyer.

Brennan Sorrengail.

You can request poly fics with them or with another character (as long as one of the characters above are involved)

Key: Smut: 🔥 Suggestive: ❤️‍🔥 Fluff: 💗 Angst: ☔️ Humor: 💩

- Other

I'm too old to get adopted, right? (Fourth Wing & ACOTAR crossover)💩

- Poly fics

Nothing yet!

- Garrick

Nothing yet!

- Bodhi

Nothing yet!

- Rhiannon

Nothing yet!

- Imogen

Nothing yet!

- Ridoc

Fourth Wing Pranksters ❤️‍🔥 💩

- Sawyer

Nothing yet!

- Brennan

Nothing yet!

[fourthwingfan]

Madness - Chapter 21

Hello, there readers. Here is the new chapter. Enjoy :) And as always you're all awesome! ❤️

Don’t freak out if you can’t immediately channel your dragon’s powers, Mira. Yeah, I know you have to be the best at everything, but this isn’t something you can control. They’ll channel when they feel you’re ready. And once they do, you’d better be ready to manifest a signet. Until then, you’re not ready. Don’t push it.

—Page sixty-one, the Book of Brennan

This really isn’t necessary.” Violet glances sideways at Liam as we make our way toward the door of the Archives. The cart doesn’t even squeak anymore. He fixed that the very first day.

“So you’ve told me for the last week.” He shoots her a grin, revealing a dimple.

“And yet you’re still here. Every day. All day.”

“Come on, Vi. Don’t be like this.” I chided her. “Admit that you actually like him. Liam is awesome, you know.” I wink at her.

“Shut up, Aelin.” She retorts but blushes so hard, her face is almost red.

And that’s it. Liam’s charm is working. He’s courteous, funny, and ridiculously helpful. He makes it difficult to loathe his constant presence. I mean I tried to avoid him when we first met, but somehow he wormed his way into my life. And Violet can’t hate him either. Even though he leaves wood shavings in little piles everywhere he goes. The guy is constantly whittling with that smaller knife of his. Yesterday he finished the figurine of a bear.

“Until otherwise ordered,” he answers to Violet’s remark.

I shake my head at them as Pierson jolts upright at the Archives doors, straightening his cream tunic. “Good morning, Cadet Pierson.”

“You as well, Cadet Melgren, Cadet Sorrengail.” He offers us a polite smile, which dies as he glances at Liam. “Cadet Mairi.”

“Cadet Pierson,” Liam responds, as if the scribe’s tone hadn’t completely changed.

My shoulders tense as Pierson hurries to open the door. Maybe it’s just that I haven’t been around marked ones before Basgiath, but the outright hostility toward them is becoming glaringly, uncomfortably obvious to me.

We walk into the Archives and wait by the table just like every other morning.

“How do you do that?” Violet asks Liam in a hushed whisper. “Handle when people are that rude without reacting?”

“You’re rude to me all the time,” he teases, drumming his fingers on the handle of the cart.

“Because you’re my babysitter, not because…”

“Because I’m the son of the disgraced Colonel Mairi?” His jaw ticks, his brow furrowing for a heartbeat as he looks away.

I silently squeeze his shoulder and he faintly smiles at me.

„I guess I’m really no better, though. I hated Xaden on sight, and I didn’t know a single thing about him.” Violet says softly.

Liam scoffs, earning us a glare from a scribe near the back corner. “He has that effect on people, especially women. They either despise him for what his father did or want to fuck him for the same reason, just depends on where we are.”

“You actually know him, don’t you?” She cranes her neck to look up at him. “He didn’t just pick you to shadow me because you’re the best in our year.”

“Just now catching on, huh?”

“Hey, take it easy, Liam. I needed time too. It’s not that obvious.” I elbow him in the ribs.

A grin flashes across his face, then he looks toward Violet. “I would have told you that on the first day if you hadn’t been so busy huffing and puffing about the pleasure of my company.”

I roll my eyes as Jesinia approaches, her hood up over her hair. “Hey, Jesinia,” I sign.

“Good morning,” she signs back, her mouth curving in a shy smile as her gaze darts up to Liam.

“Good morning.” He signs with a wink, clearly flirting.

It shocked me to my toes that first day that he knew how to sign, but honestly, I should have known. He’s awesome at everything.

“Just these today?” Jesinia asks, inspecting the cart.

„And these.” I reach for the list of requests amid their obvious glances and hand it to her.

“Perfect.” Her cheeks flush and she studies the list before putting it in her pocket. “Oh, and Professor Markham left before his daily report arrived to teach your briefing. Would you mind taking it over?”

“Happy to.” Violet waits until she’s pushing the cart away from us, then smacks Liam’s chest. “Stop it,” she whispers out loud.

“Stop what?” He watches her until she turns the corner at the first set of shelves.

“Flirting with Jesinia. She’s a long-term-relationship woman, so unless that’s what you’re looking for…just…don’t.”

Ohhoo, Violet are you jealous?

His eyebrows hit his hairline. “How does anyone think long-term around here?”

“Not everyone is in a quadrant where death is less of a chance and more of a foregone conclusion.” She says as she tries to calm herself down.

“So you’re saying that some people still try to make cute little things like plans.”

“Exactly, and those some people is Jesinia. Trust me, I’ve known her for years.”

“Right. Because you wanted to be a scribe when you grew up.” He scans the Archives with an intensity that almost makes me laugh. As if there’s any chance someone is going to lunge out of the shelves and come after Violet.

“How did you know that?” She lowers her voice as a group of second-years passes, their expressions somber as they debate the merits of two different historians.

“I did my research on you after I was…you know…assigned. And Aelin is really gossipy.” He shakes his head. “I’ve seen you practicing this week with those blades of yours, Sorrengail. Riorson was right. You would have been wasted as a scribe.”

“Hey, I’m not ‘gossipy’, you moron.” I scowl at him.

“That remains to be seen.” She answers both of us.

At least challenges haven’t resumed. Guess enough of us are dying during flight lessons to hold off on killing more through hand-to-hand.

“What did you want to be when you grew up?” Violet asks suddenly.

“Alive.” He shrugs.

“How do you know Xaden anyway?”

“Riorson and I were fostered at the same estate after the apostasy,” he says, using the Tyrrish term for the rebellion.

“You were fostered?” Her mouth drops open.

Fostering the children of aristocrats was a custom that died out after the unification of Navarre more than six hundred years ago.

“Well, yeah.” He shrugs again. “Where did you think the kids of the traitors”—he flinches at the word—“went after they executed our parents?”

“I didn’t think.” She admits it in a meak voice.

Oh, Vi. I didn’t know her mother never mentioned it to her. It seems I am much more informed on the subject. Thanks to The General…

“Most of our great houses were given to nobles who had remained loyal.” He clears his throat. “As it should be.”

I don’t bother agreeing with what’s obviously a conditioned reply. King Tauri’s response after the rebellion was swift, even cruel.

The burning of Aretia, which had been Tyrrendor’s capital, to the ground had never sat well with me, though. Liam was the same age. It wasn’t his fault his mother had broken faith with Navarre. And I’m sure there’s more to it.

“But you didn’t go with your father to his new home?” Violet asks.

His gaze swings toward her, and his brow furrows. “It’s hard to live with a man who was executed on the same day as my mother.”

“No. No, that’s not right. Your father was Isaac Mairi, right? I’ve studied all the noble houses in every province, including Tyrrendor.”

“Yes. Isaac was my father.” He tilts his head, looking toward the area where Jesinia disappeared, and I get the distinct feeling he is over this conversation.

“But he wasn’t a part of the rebellion.” She shakes her head, trying to make sense of it. “He isn’t on the death roll of the executions from Calldyr.”

“You read the death roll from the Calldyr executions?” His eyes flare.

“I needed to see that someone was on it.” She admits it.

He draws back slightly. “Fen Riorson.”

She nods. “He killed my brother at the Battle of Aretia. But your father wasn’t on that roll.”But Liam was—as a witness.

“Vi, enough.” I try to stop her. We should not tear open his wounds.

She glances at me and I can see the understanding in her eyes.“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“He was executed at our family’s house.” His features tighten. “Before it was given to another noble, of course. And yes, I watched as they did it that time, too. I already had the rebellion relic by then, but the pain was the same.” He looks away, his throat working. “Then I was sent to Tirvainne to be fostered by Duke Lindell, the same as Riorson. My little sister was sent elsewhere.”

“They separated you?” Her jaw practically unhinges.

He nods. “She’s only a year younger than me, though, so I’ll get to see her when she enters the quadrant next year. She’s strong, quick, and has good balance. She’ll make it.” The edge of panic in his tone reminds me of Mira.

“She will make it, Liam. And after that we’ll be there to help her.” I grab his hand and squeezes it.

“She could always choose another quadrant,” Violet says softly, hoping it will soothe him.

He blinks at her. “We’re all riders.”

„What?”

“We’re all riders. It was part of the deal. We’re allowed to live, allowed a chance to prove our loyalty, but only if we make it through the Riders Quadrant.” He stares at her in bewilderment. “You don’t know?”

“I mean…” she shakes her head. “I know that the children of the leaders, the officers, were all forced into conscription, but that’s all. A lot of those treaty addenda are classified.”

“I personally think the quadrant was chosen to give us the best chance of rising in rank, but others…” He grimaces. “Others think it’s because the death rate is so much higher for riders, so they were hoping to kill us all off without having to do it themselves. I’ve heard Imogen say they originally figured the dragons have unimpeachable honor, so they’d never bond a marked one in the first place, and now they don’t quite know what to do with us.”

“How many of you are there?” I ask him, because I don’t know the exact number.

“Xaden’s never?” He pauses. “Sixty-eight of the officers had kids under the age of twenty. There are one hundred and seven of us, all who carry rebellion relics.”

„The oldest is Xaden,” I murmur.

He nods. “And the youngest is almost six now. Her name is Julianne.”

I think I’m going to be sick. “Is she marked?”

“She was born with it.”

I understand it was done by Codagh, but what the fucking hell? My father is a monster.

“And it’s all right that you ask. Someone should know. Someone should remember.” His shoulders rise and fall as he breathes deeply. He suddenly turns toward Violet. “Anyway, is it hard for you to be in here? Or is it more of a comfort thing?”

Subject change noted.

„It’s like coming home, but not. And it’s not that it’s changed—this place never changes. Hell, I think change is the mortal enemy of a scribe. But I’m starting to realize that I’ve changed. I don’t quite fit here. Not anymore.”

“Yeah. I get that.” Something in his voice tells me he really does.

That’s when Jesinia reappears, the cart laden with the requested tomes.

“I have everything here for you,” she signs, then gestures to the scroll on top. “And that is for Professor Markham.”

“We’ll make sure he gets it,” Violet promises, leaning forward to take the cart. Her high collar shifts, and Jesinia gasps, her hand flying to cover her mouth.

“Oh gods, Violet. Your neck!” Her hand movements are sharp.

“It’s nothing.” She puts her collar back in place, covering the ring of yellowing bruises, and Liam reaches across me, taking the cart. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

She bobs her head and wrings her hands as we turn for the door. Pierson closes it after we pass into the hallway.

“Riorson taught me to fight during the years he was at Tirvainne.” Liam’s change of subject is appreciated and no doubt intentional once again. I still feel terrible. My farher is a monster. There’s no doubt about it. “I’ve never seen anyone move the way he does. He’s the only reason I made it through the first round of challenges. He might not show it, but he takes care of his own.” He glances toward me with a smirk.

“Are you trying to sell me on his finer points?” I ask as we make the ascent.

We round the corner and take the path past the Healer Quadrant.

“How can you do this anyway? Guard someone whose own mother oversaw the wing that captured yours?” Vi asks before he could answer.

“Wondering if you can trust me?” He flashes another easy grin.

“Yes.” The answer is simple.

He laughs, the sound echoing off the tunnel walls and glass windows of the clinic. “Good answer. All I can say is that your survival is essential to Riorson’s, and I owe him everything. Everything.” He looks me straight in the eye for that last word, even as the cart hits a raised stone in the paved corridor.

The scroll on top tumbles to the floor, and Violet retrieves it and it unrolls along the slight slope of the passage.

“Got it.”

The thick parchment isn’t eager to roll back into place, and when she looks at it, she pauses.

“What does it say?” Liam asks.

“Sumerton was attacked.” She flips the scroll to see if it’s marked as classified, but it isn’t.

“On the southern border?” He looks as confused as I feel.

“Yeah.” She nods. “It’s another high-altitude attack, too, if I remember my geography correctly. It says a supply convoy was looted.” She reads a little further. “And the community storage in nearby caves was ransacked. But that doesn’t make sense. We have a trade agreement with Poromiel.”

“A raiding party, then.” I say.

She shrugs. “No clue. Guess we’ll hear about it in Battle Brief today.”

Attacks along our southern borders are rising, all with the same description. Mountain villages are being torn apart wherever the wards weaken.

I hear an enermous growl.

„Sorrengail?” Liam looks over at her, concern etched between his brows.

“Tairn’s awake,” she manages to say, clutching her stomach. „Does it ever get any easier?” Being tackled by what they’re feeling?”

“I don’t know.” I shrug. “Aon is pretty good at keeping his emotions to himself, but sometimes I can’t separate myself from him.”

Liam winces. “Deigh keeps pretty good control of himself, but when he’s angry?” Liam shakes his head. “It’s supposed to help once they start channeling and we have the power to shield them out, but you know Carr isn’t going to bother with us until that happens.”

I’d already assumed Liam didn’t have his abilities yet, considering he’s with us in every single class, but it’s comforting to know he’s still in the waning population of powerless riders with me.

“So neither Aon nor Tairn has started channeling to you, either, right?” Liam asks, a look of uncertainty, vulnerability on his face.

I shake my head. “I think he has commitment issues,” I whisper.

“I heard that.”

“Then stay out of my head.”

Suddenly waves of emotions washes over me.

„Don’t be an ass.”

I swear I hear him chuff a chuckle in response.

“We’d better hurry or we’ll miss breakfast.” Liam says.

“Right.” Violet finishes rolling the scroll and put it back on the cart.

---

“I want to be like the cool kids,” Rhiannon grumbles as first-years from Second and Third Wings pour out of the stairwell of the turret that leads up to Professor Carr’s classroom that afternoon, further clogging the hallway on our way to Battle Brief.

“We will,” Violet promises, linking her arm through hers.

“You may be cool, but you will never be as cool as I am!” Ridoc pushes past Liam and me, and throws his arm over Violet’s shoulder.

“She’s talking about everyone who’s already channeling,” I explain, juggling my books so I don’t drop them. “Though at least if we’re not channeling, we’re not stressed about manifesting a signet before the magic kills us.” The relic on my back tingles.

“Oh, I thought we were discussing how I just owned that physics test.” He grins. “Definitely the highest score in the class.”

Rhiannon rolls her eyes. “Please. I scored five points higher than you.”

“We stopped counting your grades months ago.” He leans forward slightly. “Your grades in that class make it unfair for the rest of us.” He looks between Liam and me. “Wait. What did you get, Melgren? Mairi?”

“Not getting into the middle of this,” Liam responds.

“Me neither” I laugh at him.

I had pretty good scores. Only thanks to Liam. Despite of his assignment, he still has time to study with me. And I will be eternally grateful to him.

I smile at him as we’re entering the bottleneck of cadets to get into the briefing room.

“Sorry, Sorrengail,” someone says, stepping out of the way and tugging their friend with them as we enter the tiered classroom.

“Nothing to be sorry about!” She calls out, but they’re already headed up a few rows. “I’m never going to get used to that.”

“It definitely makes getting places easier,” Rhiannon teases her as we descend the steps that curve along the massive turret.

We find our row and walk to our seats, sitting as a squad among the first-years.

The room buzzes with energy as riders file in, and I can’t help but notice that no one has to stand anymore. Our numbers have decreased exponentially in the last four months. The number of empty chairs is sobering. We lost another first-year yesterday when he got too close to another rider’s Red Scorpiontail on the flight field. One second he was standing there, and the next he was a scorched patch of earth. I kept as close to Aon as possible the rest of the session.

My scalp prickles, but I fight the urge to turn around.

“Riorson just got here,” Liam says with mirth in his voice from the seat to my left, breaking from the little dragon figurine he’s carving and looking up the rows toward the third-years.

“Figured.” I hold up my middle finger to him and keep my eyes forward.

He just loves teasing me. Asshole.

Liam snorts and grins, flashing his dimple. “Now, that we’re talking about Xaden. I noticed that you two are always bickering. Tell me, is it fun pissing off the most powerful rider in the quadrant? ”

“You could try it yourself and find out,” I suggest, opening my notebook to the next empty page. I can’t turn around. I won’t. Wanting Xaden is fine. It has to be. Indulging the impulses it gives me? That’s asinine.

“That’s going to be a no from me.” He shakes his head.

I lose the battle with my self-control and look over my shoulder. Sure enough, Xaden is seated in the top row next to Garrick, mastering the art of looking bored. He gives Liam a nod, which Liam returns.

Then he concentrates on his carving, which looks a lot like his Red Daggertail, Deigh.

“Then you should focus on Vi. She is you’re assignment, not me.” I shot back.

“I swear, you’d think there were assassination attempts on me during every class with the way he makes you shadow me.” She shakes her head.

“In his defense, people are fond of trying to kill you.” Rhiannon sets out her supplies.

“One time! It’s happened one time, Rhi!” She says as she adjusts her posture.

“Right. And what would you call that whole thing with Tynan?” Rhiannon asks.

“Threshing.” She shrugs.

“And Barlowe’s constant threats?” I arch a brow at her.

“She has a point there,” Sawyer chimes in, leaning forward from the seat next to Rhiannon’s.

“They’re just threats. The only time I’ve actually been targeted was at night, and it’s not like Liam here is sleeping in my bedroom.”

„I mean, I’m not opposed—” he begins, his knife hovering over the piece of wood.

“Don’t even start.” She whips her head to face him and she blushes. “You are a shameless flirt.”

“Thank you.” He grins and goes back to carving.

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

“Don’t mind her, she’s just sexually frustrated. Makes a girl crabby.” I say and write the date down on the empty page with my quill. Those easy, mess-less pens some of the others can already use is just another reason I can’t wait to channel. No more quills. No more inkpots.

„That has nothing to do with it.” She shots me a glare.

“And yet I don’t hear you denying it.” I smile sweetly at her.

“I’m sorry I don’t make the cut,” Liam teases. “But I can review a couple candidates, especially if it means you’ll stop being so edgy.”

“And how exactly would you be reviewing candidates? What will you be scoring?” Rhiannon asks, one eyebrow raised above her wide grin. “This I have to hear.”

I manage a straight face for all of two seconds before laughing at how horrified he suddenly looks.

“Thanks for the offer, though. I’ll make sure to run any potential liaisons by you.” Violet teases him.

“I mean, you could watch,” Rhiannon continues, blinking innocently at him. “Just to be sure she’s fully covered. You know, so no one…sticks it to her.”

“Oh, are we telling dick jokes now?” Ridoc asks from my other side. “Because my entire life has led up to this very moment.”

Even Sawyer laughs.

“Fuck me,” Liam mutters under his breath. “I’m just saying that since you’re protected at night now—” We laugh harder, and he blows out a deep breath.

“Wait.” Vi stops laughing. “What do you mean I’m protected at night? Because you’re next door? Please tell me he’s not making you sleep in the hallway or something obnoxious.”

“No. Of course not. He warded your door the morning after the attack.” His expression clearly says she should know this. “I’m guessing he didn’t tell you?”

“He what?”

“He warded your door,” Liam says, quieter this time. “So only you can open it.”

“But if he’s the one who warded it, then he can get in, too, right?” I ask.

„Well, yeah.” Liam shrugs as Professors Markham and Devera walk down the stairs, heading for the front of the room. “But it’s not like Riorson is going to kill her.”

“Right. You see, I’m still adjusting to that little change of heart.” I fumble my quill and it falls to the ground, but before I can lean over, the shadows beneath the arm of my desk lift the instrument like an offering. I pluck it out of the shadows and look back at Xaden.

He’s locked in conversation with Garrick, not paying me a speck of attention.

Except, apparently, he is.

“If we can get started?” Markham calls over the room, and we fall silent as he places the scroll we had delivered to him before breakfast on the podium. “Excellent.”

I write Sumerton down at the top of the page and Liam trades his knife for a quill.

“First announcement,” Devera says, stepping forward. “We’ve decided that not only will the winners of this year’s Squad Battle receive bragging rights—” She grins like we’re in for a treat. “But they’ll also be given a trip to the front lines to shadow an active wing.”

Cheers break out all around us.

“So if we win, we get a chance to die sooner?” Rhiannon whispers.

“Maybe they’re trying a reverse psychology thing.” I glance at the others around us who are clearly overjoyed and worry about their sanity. Either I am a fool or everyone else.

“You crave the action just as much as they do, little one.”

“Don’t you have better things to do with your day than listen in on my private thoughts?”

“Not particularly. Now pay attention.”

“Stop butting in and maybe I can,” I counter.

Aon chuffs. One day I might be able to translate that sound, but it’s not today.

“I know the Squad Battle doesn’t commence until spring,” Devera continues, “but I figured that news would give you all the proper motivation to apply yourselves in every area leading up to the challenges.”

Another cheer resounds.

“And now that we have your attention.” Markham lifts his hand and the room quiets. “The front lines are relatively quiet today, so we’re going to take this opportunity to dissect the Battle of Gianfar.”

My quill hovers above my notebook. Surely he didn’t say that.

The mage lights rise to the Cliffs of Dralor that separate Tyrrendor, lifting the entire province thousands of feet above the rest of the Continent, before shining brightest on the ancient stronghold along the southern border. “This battle was pivotal to the unification of Navarre, and though it happened more than six centuries ago, there are important lessons that still impact our flight formations to this day.”

“Is he serious?” I whisper to Liam.

“Yeah.” Liam’s grip bends his quill. “I think he is.”

“What made this battle unique?” Devera asks, her eyebrows raised. “Bryant?”

“The stronghold was not only set for a siege,” the second-year says from high above us, “but was equipped with the first cross-bolt, which proved lethal against dragonkind.”

“Yes. And?” Devera prompts.

“It was one of the final battles where gryphons and dragons actually worked alongside each other to annihilate the army of the Barrens,” the second-year continues.

I glance left and right, watching the other riders begin to take notes. Surreal. This is just…surreal.

None of them knows what we do, that an entire village of Navarrians was ransacked last night along the border and supplies looted. And yet, we’re discussing a battle that happened before the convenience of indoor plumbing was invented.

“Now, pay close attention,” Markham lectures. “Because you’ll be turning in a detailed report in three days and drawing comparisons to battles from the last twenty years.”

“Was that scroll marked classified?” Liam asks under his breath.

“No,” Violet responds just as quietly. “But maybe I missed it?”

The battle map doesn’t even show activity near that mountain range.

“Yeah.” He nods, scratching his quill against the parchment as he begins to take notes. “That has to be it. You missed it.”

I blink, forcing my hand through the motions of writing about a battle I’ve analyzed dozens of times with The General. Liam’s right. That’s the only possible explanation. Our clearance isn’t high enough, or maybe they haven’t finished gathering all the information needed to form an accurate report.

Or it had to have been marked classified. We just missed it.

Or…they withold information from us.

I need to speak with The General. Somehow I have to gather more information.

“Careful, little one. You need to be careful when you uncover the secrets.” I hear Aon’s warning.

[marshmellowrio]

Semblance of Control | Chapter 1

A/N: First chapter is up! I can't wait for all of you to discover my OC and what she's capable of!

Word count: 1K

Reaching the top of the stairs, the woman takes in her surroundings. She’s one of the first up on the turret, about three candidates standing in front of her now. Her eyes move to the man in front of her, he’s tall with muscles in all the right places, he definitely spent the better part of his teenage years training to be in the Rider’s Quadrant. The relic on his arm catches her attention, the swirls covering his wrist crawl up his arm, disappearing under his sleeve towards his shoulder. Her own arms are covered up by long sleeves and fingerless gloves on both of her hands.

Another candidate steps onto the Parapet and the line moves up. As the girl steps forward, she glances up again and locks eyes with one of the three riders. His dark eyes look familiar and she furrows her brows almost unnoticeably, she can’t remember where she’s seen them before. It definitely isn’t the man standing before her now, she’s sure she hasn’t seen his handsome face before. His arm also bears a relic, giving away some indication to his heritage. His dark hair blowing in the increasing wind, in her peripheral she sees the storm clouds rolling in. Here’s to hoping it doesn’t hit until after she makes her way across the Parapet.

The line moves up again, she gives a small nod to the rider she has been eyeing and steps forward, focusing on the Parapet. Only the tall blond in front of her remains, she hears him say his name to the roll keeper, “Liam Mairi.”

She doublechecks all of her weapons to make sure they’re secure enough to cross the Parapet safely, something she’s done five times since she wrote down her name at the base of the tower. Two daggers at her belt, along with a satchel with her throwing stars and another dagger strapped to her right thigh. Easily accessed by her dominant hand.

Liam steps onto the covered part of the Parapet, he doesn’t hesitate one second before he’s off.

“Name?” The roll keeper asks her as she steps up to the Parapet.

“Colette Wilder.”

The rider to her right glances to the Parapet and nods in her direction. “Off you go.” Colette closes her eyes, taking a deep breath and opens her eyes again. Then she steps into the open air of the Parapet, arms wide.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Colette steps off the Parapet, onto the courtyard, breathing heavily. Heavier than after any other workout she's done before. Parapet was scarier than she had anticipated, she’s not exactly afraid of heights but she is afraid of falling. Might not be a good personality trait for someone who just entered a quadrant where she’ll have to ride a flying dragon, miles up in the air, but it is what it is, right?

She doesn’t remember most of the Parapet because of the adrenaline taking over her senses as soon as she stepped on. Only now it was slowly ebbing away, leaving her out of breath and slightly shaky on her feet.

The redheaded rider next to her, asks for her name and Colette repeats her name for the third time today. The rider jots down her name, claiming her as alive. The rainclouds that were moving in before, finally reach the Parapet, soaking everything in rain in seconds. The rider with the scroll sighs, looking up at the sky and covering up the paper.

Colette welcomes the cold rain, cooling down her flushed skin.

“Congrats, you made it.” The other rider says without any enthusiasm. Yeah, Colette understands there’s not much to be enthusiastic about in a college surrounded by death. While also getting drenched in rain standing around waiting for candidates to pass the Parapet and join that very same college. If she survives until the end of the year, she’ll probably be right here, doing the exact same thing as him.

She gives him a small nod in acknowledgment, before moving on to lean against a wall not far from the end of the Parapet. As she approaches the wall, she recognizes the guy that went in front of her, Liam. She stands next to him, leaving an acceptable distance between the two of them.

The young woman finally gets to catch her breath again, slowly regaining some of her strength after being drained by all of the adrenaline.

“Scary right?”

Colette turns her head slightly to take in the blond next to her, looking him up and down again, seeing his face for the first time. Meeting his shiny blue eyes, she nods, “You can say that again.”

“Wait,” she shakes her head lightly, “you were already halfway across when I got on and I stepped on, like 10 seconds after you.” Her brows furrowed.

He extends his hand with a smile, “Liam.” He chooses to ignore her statement all together.

“Colette.” She takes his much bigger hand in hers, it engulfs hers almost completely.

“Nice to meet you Colette.”

She nods and lets go of his hand. “Likewise.”

Liam pushes off of the wall, “See you around.” With that he walks off further into the courtyard. Colette nods her head again, now that she’s alone it started to sink in that she belongs to the Rider’s quadrant from now on. She’s a cadet. At the mercy of her superiors. And dragons.

Suddenly a woman rushes off the Parapet, a broad man hot on her heels.

Colette lifts her head at the commotion, she raises her eyebrows and cocks her head slightly to get a better view. She sees the woman holding a dagger against the man’s breeches. Impressive.

“Violet Sorrengail.”

Colette straightens when she hears the name coming from the small woman’s lips. While the man pushes past her, Colette catches a glimpse of her face and hair. She turns to the teardrop shaped courtyard and walks away.

She’s not in the mood to get into that sort of drama on day zero of this first year in the war college.

A/N: Let me know what you think in the comments! This will be a Bodhi Durran fanfic, since I've been gravitating towards his character and the votes were pretty close together. If anyone's interested in a taglist, please comment below!

Chapter 2 click here.

[mrsjoeythehurler]

･✧ﾟ♡*✧･Fics ✧* ♡ ﾟ･✧

When I Met You (Fourth Wing)

Aurora Sallow (OC) x Liam Mairi

Chapter One: Old friends, New beginnings

Chapter Two: The Parapet

Chapter Three: At First Sight

Chapter Four: Fourth Wing

Chapter Five: Sparring

Chapter Six: in progress …

Chapter Seven: in progress …

[disneyfqngirl]

AO3 is down and I just went to Down Detector…people are going insane

But tbh, so am I

I NEED MY FANFICS

ESPECIALLY FOURTH WING