#tauri!reader

[writinginatree]

At His Princess's Command

Relationship(s): Garrick Tavis/female!Tauri!reader, Xaden Riorson & reader, Violet Sorrengail & reader

Summary: When Garrick almost dies, you can no longer hide that you've been in love with him for years.

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, Onyx Storm spoilers, mentions of canon-typical violence, panic attacks, poison, mentions of reader's family being toxic/kinda abusive, slight canon-divergence (reader takes Aaric's place in quest squad and we're pretending they stopped for the night between Hedotis and Zehyllna), one mention of reader having long hair.

Based on this request.

You impatiently tap your fork against your hand, courtly table manners too deeply ingrained in you to start on the cake. No matter what your hosts say, it would be impolite not to wait. But damn, does that cake look good. You really hope the servers hurry with getting the triumvirate their forks so you can find out if the cake's taste matches its appearance.

Suddenly, your hand is empty.

You look down at it, then over at your fork in Violet's hand, blinking in confusion. Just as your gaze meets her tense face, Garrick, who sits at your other side, says the cake tastes just like home, and a jolt of terror has the blood freezing in your veins.

The word flares bright in your mind. Poison. Gods, how did you not think of it? Throughout your childhood, you've been drilled about the dangers of it time and time again — though most Navarrians adored their princess, the danger of being poisoned at some banquet or other was never zero. The fact that your hosts hadn't received their forks alongside you should have instantly set alarm bells ringing in your head, but you'd been so preoccupied with the triumvirate's ridiculous judgement of your friends' life choices and wondering if this really is supposed to be the test of wisdom Violet had said was waiting for you, that you hadn't even considered they might test you by poisoning the godsdamned food. That's why Faris had waited until desert, you suppose, so you would be reassured by having survived the main course and fully focused on the conversation — too focused to be suspicious about the missing forks until it was too late.

"Don't eat it!" you shout, head whipping around to face Garrick.

But of course he already has. Gods, how did he manage to shove down almost half the slice so quickly? Why didn't you think faster, fast enough to stop him?

As you watch Garrick's face slacken, it's like your heart stops in your chest. If Violet hadn't snatched the fork from you before you could even think about taking a bite, you would think you're poisoned too. Terror paralyzes you for a second, two, then your body remembers how to breathe and you snap out of the stupor, your hand shooting out just in time to keep Garrick's head from slamming into the table as he collapses.

"Garrick!" Xaden shouts.

Oh gods, no. This can't be happening.

"He's not breathing!" You should do something about that, give him mouth-to-mouth, but you can barely breathe yourself. With your much too fast and shallow breaths, you wouldn't do him much good. "Xaden, do something! He's not fucking brea—"

"I heard you the first time."

Your friend is already on his feet, passing behind your and Violet's chairs to help you lower Garrick to the floor.

The chair topples over as you shove out of it and fall to your knees at Garrick's side, frantically feeling for his pulse. You can't find it. Is it just because you're shaking too hard, or is there no pulse to find?

Mira is yelling at someone to get Trager, but what good is a medic when you don't have the antidote to whatever is killing him?

"What did you put in that fucking cake?!" you snap at the triumvirate, even as it dawns on you that there's no way they'll tell you.

The poison was part of the test — and Garrick failed. You failed.

Xaden kneels on Garrick's other side, opposite you, ear to his chest to check for a heartbeat. "Sluggish but beating."

Thank you, Malek, for not taking him yet. But he still isn't breathing. His face is starting to turn blue.

"Do something," you plead again, wetness trailing down your cheeks. "We have to— to get him breathing again. I— I can't—"

Xaden doesn't waste time on a reply, lowering his face to Garrick's to breathe air into his mouth.

Meanwhile Violet is now trying to get answers from Faris, but, as you already suspected, he isn't talking. That asshole is perfectly willing to let Garrick die on his dining room floor, just for failing to guess that the cake was poisoned.

"Violet."

Xaden's voice is pleading, vulnerable like you've never heard it in the three and a half years you've known him. The realization that even your usually stoic leader is close to losing composure only makes it harder to control your own distress.

You're having a panic attack, you realize — worse than any you've experienced before, and you've had your fair share of them. All the breathing techniques and grounding exercises you know have abandoned you; the only thing you can think of is that you might be about to lose Garrick.

Not that you have any claim to him whatsoever — unlike your dragons, the both of you are merely friends, nothing more. If he dies now, he'll never know you feel more for him than friendship.

"I won't let him die," Violet promises, the words directed as much at you as at her boyfriend.

You tear your gaze from Garrick for a second to give her a grateful look, the panic receding the tiniest bit. Violet is one of your oldest friends — one of the only real friends you had as a child — and has always been the smartest. If anyone can find the right antidote, it's her.

Moments later, the door flies open. Trager and the others — finally. You don't know how much good his medical training can do in this case, but hopefully he can keep Garrick from dying long enough for Violet to figure out how to actually save him.

As Trager joins you and Xaden at Garrick's side, Violet and Mira shout orders at the rest of the squad. They all disperse to do their part, leaving the four of you alone with the triumvirate — all of them bent over and clutching their stomachs, thanks to Violet's arinmint.

"We have to get his heart beating stronger." Trager puts one hand on top of the other on Garrick's sternum, then forces all his weight down. "Keep breathing for him."

You know you should do something, anything, to help too, but you can't bring yourself to take your eyes off Garrick for even a moment, can't do anything but clutch his hand, fight for breath, and pray, pray that Violet really will find an antidote.

You're vaguely aware you'll hyperventilate if you don't calm down, but all you can think about is Garrick. Though your dragons are mated, it's different than with Xaden and Violet, who would almost certainly both end up dead if one of them dies. If Garrick dies, Chradh will likely survive it, and you'll be forced to live in a world without Garrick in it.

The thought is unbearable.

Without interrupting the heart massage, Trager calls your name. "Breathe. It won't help Garrick if you pass out."

"I k-know," you gasp.

Gods, you feel so useless. Worse than useless — you're making the situation worse, distracting Trager from helping Garrick, just because you can't get a fucking grip on yourself.

"It's going to be okay. Just breathe in" — he waits for you to do so — "and out. Good. Again. Deep breaths."

You do your best to force your thoughts to stop spiraling into doom, focusing on your breathing under Trager's instruction. Eyes trained on the almost hypnotic rhythm of his hands compressing Garrick's chest, you slowly regain some semblance of control over yourself.

Giving yourself a firm shake, you rub your hands over your face. When you open your eyes again, Trager and Xaden have stopped their efforts.

"What—?"

"He's breathing on his own."

Oh thank the gods. He's breathing — shallowly, but he is breathing. That's as good as it can get without the antidote.

"You can't die, Garrick," you whisper, curling in on yourself with your head on Garrick's shoulder. Every breath you feel him take comes as a relief. "You hear me? I forbid it."

He always jokes about being at your beck and call, heeding his princess's every command. It always makes you feel a little awkward, a reminder of your power imbalance and the life you'll never be able to fully leave behind, but for once, you hope he meant it.

No matter how ridiculous it is to believe that an order from you will keep him hanging onto live long enough for Violet to find the antidote, you keep repeating it anyway. He is not allowed to die. Not here, not now, not if you have any say about it. You'll personally follow him into the afterworld and drag his sorry ass back out before you let him leave you like this — killed by a piece of cake, of all things! When he wakes up, you'll give him an earful about shoveling the damned thing into his mouth so carelessly, that's for sure. You try to convince yourself he will wake up again. He just has to.

There's noise in the kitchen, then Vi and Ridoc step out of it. Almost at the same moment, Dain returns with Violet's book, and it must contain what she was looking for, because she sends him to get figs.

You blink at that. Figs? You don't know what you expected the antidote to be, but certainly not that. No matter. If they really help Garrick, figs will be your new favorite fruit from now on.

Violet turns to you, sending you into the kitchen with Ridoc to prepare five cups of water. You don't want to leave Garrick's side, but it's to save him, so you make yourself go.

You've just filled the first cup when Dain comes sprinting into the kitchen with the figs. Grabbing the nearest knife, he cuts them as small as possible, crushing the pieces with the flat of the knife for good measure before dumping the stuff into the water cup you hold out to him.

Grabbing a spoon, you head for the door, stirring the mixture as you walk. Dain and Ridoc follow with the other water cups; you don't know what Violet needs them for, and you honestly don't care.

Xaden and Trager already have Garrick on his side, and together, the three of you manage to get the solution down his throat.

Garrick sputters, spitting some of the slurry out, but his eyes flash open. Xaden yells at him to wake the fuck up and drink it. It takes him four big swallows before the cup is drained and he falls back, his head landing in your lap.

He still doesn't look good.

You frown down at him, while Xaden's worried gaze snaps to Violet.

"Give it time," she soothes. "We're under the hour mark. He'll be alright."

You don't take your eyes off Garrick. "You don't know that."

If you weren't still so worried about Garrick you'd be embarrassed at the way you sound, voice shaking and thick with tears. Your heart is still thumping against your ribcage like a trapped bird, but at least your breathing has normalized.

While Violet turns to threaten Faris some more, you run your hand through Garrick's hair.

"Wake up, Garrick. Please. You can't just leave me like this. I need you."

You wish there was magic here, wish you could mentally reach for Garrick or the dragons. Chradh would be able to tell you if Garrick is close to waking up, but you can feel neither him nor your own dragon. Maybe that's for the better — they're probably both furious about the poisoned cake, and getting swamped with dragon rage is the last thing you need right now.

But gods, how you long for Garrick's voice in your head. How you wish he'd wake up and tease you about the tears you shed for him, for believing he would die that easily.

You don't remember how to live without him. Though it's only been three and a half years since that day your dragons choose you and forever bound you together, it feels like you've known him an eternity.

When you think back to life before you became a rider, before you met Garrick, it seems woefully empty.

Abandoning your father's court to go to Basgiath had been the best decision of your life, not just because being a rider allows you to fight for what is right or because your dragon understands you like nobody else, though both things are also true, but because if you hadn't joined the quadrant, you might have never met Garrick, certainly wouldn't have become so close with him and the other marked ones.

When you declared you wanted to become a rider, your father had been far from thrilled, but since — much unlike your older brothers — you rarely ever asked for anything, he had eventually given in and allowed it. Though you hadn't liked entering the quadrant together with your brother, it was your luck that you did. After Alic's death, your father would have never let you go.

But gods, how you had loathed it, loathed Alic, loathed the implications. You knew how it would make you look; like you were just a little girl trailing after her older and stronger brother. For a while, you had even considered going to the healers instead, just to put some distance between yourself and your brothers. But being a rider was what you wanted, had always been your dream, a way to truly make a difference, and you wouldn't let Alic take that from you just because he had decided a dragon would suit his ego. You'd ignore him and make your own path.

It was easy enough to ensure you were put in a different squad, a different wing, than Alic. Even though your status wasn't supposed to mean anything in the quadrant, everyone was eager to please the princess, to win your favor. Precisely for that reason, you kept to yourself as much as you could. You were tired of fake friends, tired of all the lies.

The marked ones were understandably wary of you — it was defying your father that had gotten their parents killed, and they had no way of knowing you despised him, despised the deceit and cowardice he ruled with. They couldn't know you came to Basgiath to escape all that, that you knew what was out there and couldn't stand the thought of sitting idly in your father's palace in Calldyr doing nothing about it, that you wanted to find a way to fight the real enemy.

The open hostility had been strangely refreshing. It wasn't like any of the marked ones tried to harm you — they weren't fools — but they made no secret of the fact they wanted nothing to do with you, and you could feel them glare at you anytime one of them was in your vicinity.

Sometimes other people would get mad about it on your behalf, but when they tried to start fights about it, you quickly shut it down. All you wanted was to be left alone, treated normally; the marked ones didn't bother you.

Alic, of course, was a different matter. While you ignored the marked ones when you could and treated them the same you would anyone else when you did have to interact with one of them, your brother found twisted amusement in the pain the children of the rebellion had been caused on your father's orders, and tormented them whenever he could.

Not that he didn't torment everyone else, too — even you weren't entirely safe from his bullying, though he didn't take it quite as far as with others he deemed farther beneath him. When it suited him, Alic played the protective brother, using you as an excuse to pick on any marked ones he caught being less than friendly to you, only to be the one pushing you around and insulting you moments later.

No one seemed to take notice of it, and you were used to it, so you simply avoided him as much as you could, the way you'd always done. Being away from home made it easier to keep your distance, though in the quadrant's limited space you couldn't help running into him occasionally.

At home, you had been expected to get along. As the only girl, you had been expected to keep the peace between all three of your brothers, to play the perfect daughter of the perfect royal family, smiling even when Alic pinched your arm so hard you teared up. Being not quite a full year younger than him and Halden, you'd spent your whole life quietly suffocating in their oppressive orbit, shielding Cam from their cruelty as much as you could in hopes he would grow up a better person than them.

But at Basgiath, you didn't have to pretend anymore. Though people would never let you forget where you came from, you weren't the princess there, just another cadet. There was no more need for you to associate with Alic.

Dropping the pretense was freeing, but also strange, like speaking a language you weren't quite fluent in. So many times you'd been lectured about being nice to your older brothers, even when they were anything but. Turning your back on Alic when he commanded you to write his assignments for him had felt like committing a crime against the crown, but you'd done it anyway.

And as you grew bolder, more openly cold towards your brother, the marked ones slowly warmed up to you. It was such a gradual change you didn't even notice at first.

Not until the day you faced Garrick Tavis on the challenge mat.

He completely kicked your ass, but he was... shockingly nice about it.

The moment you'd heard his name called out alongside your own, you had prepared to die. It was the first match in which the professors dared to pair you with one of the marked ones, though you had no doubt there'd been requests from them to challenge you before. Considering who you were, it was to be expected they would try to kill you — and on the mat, they would have every right to do it, though even so, there were sure to be repercussions. But in the quadrant, every cadet was equal — or was supposed to be, anyway — so the professors couldn't avoid letting you fight a marked one forever.

The separatist kids had every reason to want you dead, but when Garrick stepped on the mat with you, he didn't seem like he was out for blood. He looked calm, confident, eager for the fight — normal. Like you were just a regular cadet, not the princess of Navarre, not the daughter of the man responsible for hiding the truth and orphaning more than a hundred children, Garrick himself among them.

You wondered if maybe he was just that good at hiding his hatred, if he was trying to make you let your guard down so he could stick a blade in your heart. But you'd seen him fight, knew he was one of the best in your year, outdone only by Xaden Riorson himself. He had no need to resort to tricks if he wanted to kill you.

And he didn't. Didn't try to kill you, didn't even hurt you any more than was strictly necessary to defeat you.

You walked off the mat with all your bones intact, and only a single, finger-shaped bruise blooming around your wrist where he'd gripped it to twist your dagger from you. Your thoughts, however, were a jumble. Not just that Garrick had defeated you so gently, he'd even offered his hand to help you to your feet after you yielded. And he had smiled at you — not the cruel sort of smirk you were used to seeing from Alic when he won a fight, but an actual friendly smile. Slightly cocky, clearly proud of his victory, but friendly nonetheless. Like he was a little sorry for ending the victory streak you'd had going.

It didn't make any sense. The marked ones hated you. Why would one of them spare your life when presented with a chance to end it, let alone be so nice about it? You even wondered if it was a ploy to indebt you to him, if he would hold it over your head and claim you owed him for letting you live, but he did no such thing. He just went on with his life as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

You payed more attention to the marked ones from that day on, started watching Garrick, and realized the glares had stopped — or at least become significantly less frequent. When you passed a pair of them talking to each other in the courtyard, they no longer interrupted their conversation to watch you with narrowed eyes until you were gone. When you had breakfast duty and a marked one got something from your station, they politely thanked you, some of them even giving you a smile. One time a marked girl was nearby to see Alic shove you around, and wordlessly offered a hand to help you to your feet once he'd left.

None of them went so far as to befriend you, but it seemed the growing awareness that you were here to escape your family was enough to come to an unspoken truce.

And Garrick... Garrick slowly but surely started to take up more and more space in your thoughts. It was a little embarrassing, developing a crush on someone you'd never even talked to, but he had a certain charm about him that you could tell others weren't immune to, either. For someone with a rebellion relic, he was a very successful flirt.

He wore the dagger he'd won from you during that challenge strapped among his other ones, but so far as you could tell, he never used it — as if it were too valuable, too precious, something he didn't want to lose or damage. A ridiculous thought, of course, but you couldn't shake the feeling it was true.

Or maybe he just thought it too impractical — it being one of the daggers your father had gifted to you when you departed for Basgiath, it was a filigrane little thing adorned with jewels, looking more like a little girl's toy than an actual weapon. You yourself preferred fighting with the daggers you won in challenges, hating the way the blades you'd brought with you across the parapet seemed to scream spoiled princess.

Every time your eyes met across a room, you quickly looked away, lest Garrick notice the heat rising to your cheeks. You were used to male attention — guys had been hitting on you since you'd barely hit puberty. Everyone wanted the influence they thought they could gain from being with you, or to simply be able to brag about having kissed the princess of Navarre. But there was something different about having Garrick's attention on you, however fleetingly.

Maybe it was just that he didn't seem to care who you were, that even though he should consider you an enemy, he never treated you like it.

You'd never given any of your countless suitors the time of the day, which meant that now that there was someone you were actually interested in, you had no clue what to do about it. Was there even anything you could do? A marked one was the last person you should get involved with, the last person who would even want to get involved with you, no matter how many flirtatious looks he shot you.

Smiling at you from the other side of a room, handing you a book you dropped, brushing hands when you happened to reach for the basket of bread at the same time during lunch — none of that had to mean he liked you, or wanted anything to do with you.

The more you watched him, the more you doubted he even realized how friendly he was to you. Or — just as likely — maybe it was an act. Maybe he actually was trying to get close to you, to use you for your title like everyone else. Having the princess wrapped around his finger certainly would make life easier for him and the other marked ones.

Whatever his motives were, you kept your distance. You had joined the quadrant to bond a dragon, not to chase after boys, regardless of how handsome and charming they were. You needed to keep your eyes on your goal: to become a rider and fight for what's right. Between studying, hours in the gym, and Gauntlet training sessions, you had no time to waste on ridiculous crushes.

You did a good job of ignoring the way your heart sped up whenever you caught sight of Garrick, right up until Threshing came around.

When you stumbled upon him, Xaden Riorson, and Alic in the grounds, your resolve to keep away went right out the figurative window. It came as no surprise that your brother was using the opportunity to go after the marked ones, but you were still shaken that it was Garrick of all people he was targeting. Could Alic have noticed the way your eyes lingered on the marked cadet sometimes, or was it merely coincidence?

Seeing him raise his blade to strike Garrick down, you called your brother's name. You had no idea what exactly you thought you were doing — there was no way you could talk him out of the slaughter he seemed to have in mind. Did you seriously mean to fight him? Gods, you would be in so much trouble if you did. But you couldn't just walk away and let whatever happened happen, no more than you could stand there and watch it happen.

As it turned out, you didn't have to actually do anything. The brief distraction you provided gave Xaden enough time to place himself between his wounded friend and your brother. The following fight was short but brutal — and you did nothing to stop it, even when Xaden raised his sword for the killing blow.

Just before it fell, you turned your back, walking away with Alic's last scream ringing in your ears.

Even now, you sometimes find yourself wondering if the role you played in your brother's death makes you a bad person. You tell yourself it doesn't, that he was the bad person. The lack of remorse you feel about what happened, however, most certainly does. You can't bring yourself to care. He had been meaning to kill Garrick — Garrick, who is worth a dozen Alics. If Xaden hadn't been there to rid the world of your brother, you might have done so yourself. After twenty whole years in Alic's proximity, you had long given up any hope that he might grow out of being such a bully. He never would have changed.

You had still been reeling from the encounter when your dragon found you, leaving you no time to process what had happened — that you and the two marked ones were now co-conspirators in killing your brother. You might have only indirectly contributed to his death, but if your father got wind of it...

You could only hope he wouldn't.

Before you could contemplate what horrible fate would await you should anyone find out how exactly Alic had died, you were soaring through the sky to the flight field, where the next shock was already waiting for you in the form of your dragon's mate — a Brown that had bonded the very person your brother had been trying to kill. And because mated pairs couldn't be separated, that meant you were now tied to Garrick Tavis for the rest of your careers — and lives.

You still hadn't spoken a single word to each other.

It was a lot to get used to; the knowledge that Alic was dead and couldn't torment you any longer, the constant paranoia that someone would come arrest you for letting him die, and most of all, being bonded not just to a dragon, but by extension also to Garrick.

Once the both of you actually got to know each other, you'd instantly clicked, becoming almost as inseparable as your dragons, but despite all the lighthearted flirting, your bond never developed into anything more. It was like there was an invisible line neither of you were willing to cross, feelings the one thing you never spoke about — uncertain territory neither of you seemed willing to enter.

A groan from Garrick abruptly ends your reminiscing. His eyes open, meeting yours. "This is my least favorite isle."

You sob a laugh, silently agreeing. It's such a relief to have him awake and looking at you that you can barely hold back a fresh wave of tears. You hardly notice when Xaden jumps to his feet and attacks Faris; leaning down so your face hovers mere inches above Garrick's, it's like the two of you are in your own little world, shielded by the curtain of your hair.

"How are you feeling?" you ask, tracing your thumb along his scarred cheek.

"Well, I've definitely been better. But," he adds, that adorable dimple appearing as he grins up at you, "considering I have a beautiful princess fussing over me and acting as my pillow, I can't really complain."

"Gods, you're unbelievable." You don't know if you want to slap or kiss him. "You almost died, Garrick! And the first thing you do upon waking up is flirt with me?"

Upside down as he appears in your vision, it's hard to read his expression, but his shrug is entirely unapologetic. "It's not every day I get to wake up with my head on your lap. Those soft thighs do something to a guy, you know."

Un.be.lie.va.ble.

"More likely the poison got to your brain." You shake your head. "Do you even realize how fucking scared we all were for you?!"

No need to mention that it had been you who had freaked out the most.

Your expression must give something away though, because Garrick's face softens, and he reaches up to trace a finger over your cheek. Belatedly, you realize the tracks of your earlier tears must still be visible.

"I'm alright," he reassures you. "It'll take more than some poisoned cake to get rid of me."

You give him a wobbly smile, covering his hand with your own, the other still cupping his face. "Then I guess it's a good thing I don't want to get rid of you. Whatever would I do without you trailing after me?"

"Pretty sure it's usually you who trails after me, princess."

"Whatever. Just promise me that the next time we're served poisoned cake, you won't shovel it down like that."

"Yes, my lady. You can rest assured I will not be making that mistake twice."

Someone clears their throat next to you, interrupting the quiet conversation and reminding you that there are, in fact, other people in the room with you.

"Trager, help the princess with Garrick and start moving him toward Chradh," Dain orders. "Ridoc, let's pack everyone's shit."

The following night, you lie awake on your bedroll, watching Garrick's sleeping form in the firelight. While he seems to be recovering just fine from the effects of the poison — strong enough to keep his seat as you left Hedotis behind, and already back to doling out his usual sarcastic quips when you made camp for the night — the turmoil inside you still hasn't lessened. You can't bring yourself to take your eyes off Garrick, no matter how briefly; every time you do, the bitter taste of fear floods your mouth again.

He was so close to death, so close to leaving you. If he'd died, he would have done so without ever knowing how much he means to you.

The thought haunts you.

You've faced so much danger, overcame so many of your fears, pushed your limits time and time again. You like to think you've become truly brave in the three years you've been a rider, yet confessing your feelings is the one thing you still haven't found the courage to do.

How could you possibly tell Garrick you love him when even his and Xaden's friendship is already so much more than you deserve, considering everything your family has done to them?

Maybe it makes you a coward, but you've decided long ago that you would rather keep things as they are than risk rejection. With all his flirting, you're pretty certain Garrick would welcome you into his bed with open arms, but would he welcome you into his heart, too? He has never shown any indication he's interested in a long-term relationship — not with you, nor anyone else.

Maybe he just doesn't do romantic love.

If that's the case, you're fucked. You don't want a quick fling or to be friends with benefits. You could never be that casual about him, wouldn't be able to handle having him without having all of him. And if you tried and it ended up not working out, things would be terribly awkward. It's not like you would be able to avoid him, thanks to your dragons.

But watching him almost die made those worries pale in comparison to the sheer terror you'd felt at the idea of a life without him.

It's not like this was the first time you've witnessed him in mortal danger; gods know you've all had your share of close calls in your years as cadets, and even more since graduating. But somehow, this felt different. This wasn't just a blade evaded by hair's width, not an almost. This time, he stood right on Malek's doorstep — a door wide open, only waiting for him to walk through.

You've never come as close to losing him as this, never really had to think about what it would be like to have to go on without him, never quite realized just how much you need him, how much you rely on his presence to keep you sane in the midst of this war. You'd never dared to truly let yourself imagine what it would be like to have more than the friendship you built, kept telling yourself it's not worth the risk of destroying what you have, but after you almost lost him completely today...

You're not sure how you're supposed to keep hiding your feelings for him. Everyone saw you freak out. Oh gods, did they realize why you had reacted so extremely? Would they tell Garrick? Would it even matter if they do?

You know he cares about you, the question is just in what way; purely platonically, or maybe romantically, too?

If you don't find the guts to talk to him, you'll never know.

With a sigh, you turn onto your stomach, head resting on your folded arms, turned sideways in a way that will probably leave you with a stiff neck so you can keep Garrick in your sights. Your bedroll is laid out far enough from his to not seem clingy or improper, just close enough that if both of you were to stretch out an arm, your hands would be able to touch.

That's not going to happen, of course. He's sleeping, and you won't reach for him, no matter how much you want to.

You'll just watch over him, let the rise and fall of his chest reassure you that he's breathing. You know you won't be able to sleep anyway, no matter how hard you try.

Every time you close your eyes, the day's events play out in your mind again and again. Garrick chewing on that cursed cake, Garrick collapsing, Garrick laid limp on the floor, unbreathing. Better to stay awake, thinking about your feelings for Garrick and what to do about them, than to relive those moments over and over.

Maybe you should risk telling him. You only have this one life, only one chance to be with him. Do you really want to waste it just because you're scared he doesn't feel the same? What if he does? Wouldn't that be worth risking your heart for?

In the end, you must have dozed off after all, because the next thing you know, the stars overhead are gone, replaced by the dull twilight of early morning.

You've rolled closer to Garrick in your sleep — you're lying on the blank sand between his bedroll and your own, your blanket tangled around you like a constrictor snake.

Garrick's arm is stretched out in the sand next to you; a twitch of your hand is all it would take to make your pinkies touch. To your embarrassment, he stirrs before you can untangle yourself and move back onto your bedding. You can't even pretend to still be asleep; your fight to free yourself from the bondage-loving blanket made you twist into a position no one would believe you can sleep in.

Garrick doesn't even waste time on a good morning before he starts teasing you. "Careful, princess, or I'll get used to that beautiful face being the first thing I see when I wake up."

His voice, low and still rough with sleep, sends shivers down your spine. You're still so sleepy you can't stop yourself from imagining what it would be like to always wake up beside him and get to hear his morning voice.

"Shut up."

He doesn't, of course. "If you wanted to cuddle, all you had to do is ask."

"Shut up! I must have gotten cold in my sleep or something."

Garrick chuckles quietly. "Yeah? Come here then, princess. I'll keep you warm."

If you actually were cold, the heat rising to your cheeks at his words would certainly be enough to change that. Nonetheless, you scoot just a tiny bit closer. A second later, Garrick's hand slides under your waist, pulling you flush against him so suddenly you can barely stifle your yelp of surprise.

Everyone else is still asleep around the dying fire, except for whoever had taken the last watch. In the dim light of dawn, you can just make out their silhouette on the opposite side of your campsite.

Garrick's body is warm and solid against your own, and though you hadn't actually been cold at all, you're far from complaining. You only hope he can't feel the way your heart is racing.

This close, you can make out every detail of his handsome face, from the stubble on his jaw over the scar he got at Resson and those oh so kissable lips to his ever observant eyes.

"You're staring again," he whispers. "In fact, I'm pretty sure you haven't stopped staring at me since we left Hedotis, except to sleep. Did the poison give me purple freckles or something, or is just my good looks that have you so enraptured?"

You're not yet awake enough to make up an excuse or evade the question, so you answer honestly. "Just assuring myself you're still here. That you're breathing. Yesterday was—" You shake your head, words failing to adequately describe the horror you'd felt. "I almost lost you. I just— I can't bear the thought of a world without you in it."

"Aww, you really care about me that much, huh?" he teases.

"Yes," you simply say. You don't feel like joking about the matter.

Garrick must realize it, his expression turning serious. "I heard you, you know. When you told me not to leave you. I thought you didn't like giving orders, but it seems you do have it in you after all."

You shrug, trying to seem nonchalant as you desperately try to remember what exactly you'd said. Had you let slip any of what you felt for him? You'd been so upset — too upset to care what you said or who might hear. "I figured it was worth a try, considering how you always say you'd do anything for me. Thought I'd see if that includes staying alive."

"It does. My life is all yours, princess."

Though the words are lighthearted, joking, his tone is anything but.

"You shouldn't say things like that," you whisper. "I might get the idea you actually mean them."

"I do. Not even Malek himself could make me leave if you tell me to stay."

Your hand curls into a fist around the fabric of his shirt. Gods, when he talks like that, you can almost convince yourself he feels about you the same way you feel about him.

"Good, because I don't know what I would do without you by my side. I don't— I don't think I want to know. When it looked like you were about to die it was like— like I couldn't function anymore." You hadn't meant to admit it, but the words are gushing out faster than you can stop them. "Everyone else did what they had to, but I— I was completely petrified. All I could think was that I was going to lose you and I couldn't do anything about it."

"But you didn't lose me. I'm alive, princess. And I won't be going anywhere, I promise."

He pulls you closer, both arms wrapped tight around your waist, and you rest a palm on his chest. His heart beats strong and steady, not at all like the sluggish slow stumbling it had done when he lay dying on Talia's dining room floor. Without thinking, you rest your head against Garrick's chest and close your eyes, soaking up the sound, every beat a promise that he's alive and will stay that way.

"Garrick?"

"Yes, princess?"

"What would you do if I said I love you?"

With your head still lying on his chest, you can hear his heart speed up at the question.

"If that were the case, I would have to kiss you."

You bite your lip, slightly angling your head to peek up at him. "Really?"

One of Garrick's hands leaves your back and gently lifts your chin, making you fully face him.

"Why don't you try saying it and find out?"

Because you're scared, that's why. But he wouldn't have said that if he didn't mean it, if he didn't feel something, too. He wouldn't play with your feelings like that. And the way he's looking at you...

You shove the fear aside, and say the words you've held back for so long. "I love you, Garrick."

"I love you too, princess," he says just as quietly, and then his lips are on yours.

[saintsanddevils]

Never Alone - pt 5

Aaric Graycastle x Fem!Reader

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

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

Word Count: 5.8K

Part Four | Part Six

Masterlist

————

-Bound-

(Aaric POV)

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

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

“Hold on, love.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cam, I love—“

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

Y/N isn’t here.

It was a dream.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh fuck. Not now.

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

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

“I know. That is obvious, Princeling.”

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

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

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

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

A pause. “Your emotions tell me otherwise.”

That doesn’t mean she’s my mate.

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

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

If Molvic will even let him.

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

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

“Then move on.”

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

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

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

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

Aaric has always loved her and he always will.

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

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

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

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

If she was mine.

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

————

(Reader POV)

Where the hell is she?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes and no,” I winced.

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

My squad leader nodded before disappearing down the hall.

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

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

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

“Our dragons are mates.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You need not worry about this.”

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

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

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

“I have told you all I can.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re being dramatic.”

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

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

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

I furrow my brows. “Overwhelmed?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I slowly shake my head no.

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

“Bound?”

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

“Y/N!”

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

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

What’s wrong?

“Get to the gymnasium. Now.”

The gym? What?

Did something—

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

————

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

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

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

Please be alive, please be alive, please—

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

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

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

“AARIC!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So, what set him off?

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

If he won’t end it, I will.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not asking.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you walk?” He asks.

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

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

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

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

“What the fuck?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

————

(Aaric POV)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She rolls her eyes. “I wonder why.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No. He couldn’t say that.

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

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

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

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

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

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

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

He snorts. “Yeah, me too.”

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

She surges forward. “Shit, your stitches.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y-yes,” she stammers. “It’s okay.”

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

“Is this?”

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

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

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

Fuck, I want to kiss you so badly.

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

“I heard you.”

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

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

“I want to kiss you, too.”

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

Holy shit.

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

Well, fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

She wants to kiss me.

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

Will you be back?

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

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

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

Part Six

————

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[partoffantasy]

No Strings Attached - Aaric Graycastle / Cam Tauri

⸻ image credits to artbycassmira & etherealbookart ⸻

summary: Y/N and Aaric share a complicated, no-strings-attached arrangement that mostly works—until it doesn't.

pairing: aaric graycastle x fem!reader warnings: smut, MDNI, unprotected p in v, air play, edging word count: 4.1k

Request by anon! I hope you like it. 💙

⸻⸻⸻✦ ♡ ✦⸻⸻⸻

Their arrangement was simple. It had been from the beginning—no strings, no expectations, just a mutually beneficial agreement between two people who had too much tension and too little patience to pretend otherwise. It worked. Most of the time. Right now, though, Aaric was testing her patience on purpose.

Y/N let out a sharp breath, pressing her forehead against the cool stone wall of his room, her arms braced against it to hold herself up. She should have known he’d do this. Aaric wasn’t rushed. Wasn’t desperate. He took his time, drawing it out, dragging his hands down her sides in slow, lazy strokes that sent heat pooling deep in her stomach.

"You're doing that thing again," she bit out, voice uneven. Behind her, she felt more than saw his smirk. "What thing?" "You know exactly what thing," she gritted, trying to shift back against him, wordlessly demanding more. A low chuckle against her skin. "Patience, sweetheart." She cursed under her breath. He was doing it on purpose. That slow, infuriating control.

Aaric was a strategist. On and off the battlefield. He knew exactly how to play her, how to keep her on edge, how to make her fall apart. And he enjoyed it—far too much. Y/N hated and loved him for it all at once. But two could play that game. Pushing back against him just enough to throw him off balance, she turned, gripping his jaw and dragging his mouth to hers.

Aaric let out a low groan, his hands instantly tightening on her waist. She knew that sound. Knew what it meant. She was getting to him. "Problem?" she murmured against his lips, smirking. He growled, flipping their positions in one smooth movement, pressing her back against the wall. His green, piercing eyes locked onto hers, amusement flickering in them.

"You want it your way? Fine, I’ll give you what you want." he said, voice smooth and sharp, like a blade waiting to press against skin. Y/N’s eyes rolled into the back of her head, a moan left her lips. "Please." His smirk was slow, lethal. "Good girl." he murmured, before making her regret every bit of her smugness.

Later, as she lay sprawled on his bed, the room still heavy with warmth, Aaric stretched beside her, one arm lazily draped over his stomach. He was too smug, and she had half a mind to smack him for it. Instead, she rolled onto her side, propping herself up on her elbow. "You looked very pleased with yourself back there." "Shouldn't I be?" He turned his head slightly to smirk at her, hair a tousled mess. Unfairly good-looking even in exhaustion. "You challenged me, and I won."

"You cheated," she muttered, shoving at his shoulder. His chest shook with laughter. "You call that cheating? I call that strategy." She narrowed her eyes. "I call it a massive ego." Aaric simply grinned. "You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have one." She had no retort for that. Because it was true. There was something about the way he carried himself, about that mix of confidence and careful restraint, about how he never let anyone get too close, except for her.

But only like this. Only in the dark, in stolen moments, in an agreement that wasn’t supposed to mean anything. Y/N forced herself to shove the thought away before it could dig in too deep. Aaric let out a long breath, stretching again before rolling onto his side to face her. "You hungry?" She blinked. "What?"

He nodded toward his door. "The kitchen should still be open. We could grab something before the upper-years steal everything." Y/N stared at him, thrown off by the casualness of it. Because this wasn’t part of their deal. They trained together. Slept together. But they didn’t do things like—this.

She studied his expression, looking for some kind of hidden motive. But Aaric just stared back, bored, unbothered, like he wasn’t aware he’d just thrown the entire foundation of their arrangement off-balance. "You coming or not?" She should say no. But instead, she found herself following him out the door.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

Aaric led her through the winding rows of ancient tomes and dust-covered archives like he had done this a hundred times before. His stride was easy, unhurried, his fingers trailing over old bindings as if this place was as familiar to him as the battlefield. "How do you even know your way around here?" Y/N whispered, half-expecting a scribe to shush them despite the emptiness.

Aaric didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stopped in front of a hidden alcove, shielded behind one of the grander bookshelves, where a narrow wooden table sat tucked against the wall, illuminated by the soft glow of a single enchanted lamp. It was perfect. Private. Isolated. Like something out of a dream-a place she would love to read her favourite book in silence in. Y/N turned to him, eyes narrowed. "You’ve been keeping this a secret, haven’t you?"

Aaric smirked, leaning against the bookshelf with an infuriatingly casual air. "Maybe." "You ass," she muttered, stepping inside anyway. "You let me suffer at those overcrowded tables for weeks, and you had this the whole time?" His smirk deepened. "I was waiting for the right moment." "To what? Taunt me?" His gaze flickered over her, amused. Something else, something unreadable, lingered beneath it. "To bring you here."

That shut her up. She swallowed, suddenly too aware of how intimate this space was. The alcove was small—too small. When he followed her in, his body brushed against hers, his warmth seeping through his shirt. He acted like he didn’t notice. But she did. Y/N cleared her throat, dropping into the chair and pulling out her notes. Focus. They were here to study.

Aaric, however, had other plans. At first, it was subtle. Sitting too close. Passing her books without looking, their fingers brushing for too long. Then, there was the way he watched her. Y/N could feel his gaze on her every time she got frustrated, could hear the quiet amusement in his exaggerated sighs whenever she muttered a curse under her breath.

When she finally looked up, exasperated, Aaric had the nerve to smirk. "Something wrong, sweetheart?" "You’re staring." "Am I?" He leaned back, utterly unapologetic. "Maybe you’re just distracted." "By what?" she shot back, crossing her arms. Aaric tilted his head, eyes flickering over her, slow and assessing. "Wouldn’t you like to know?" She hated him. And she hated even more that he was right.

Because now she was distracted—especially when he stretched, casually draping an arm over the back of her chair, fingers nearly brushing her shoulder. Y/N forced herself to focus. She wasn’t going to let him win. But Aaric wasn’t done playing. A moment later, his lips were on her neck. It wasn’t much—just a graze, a whisper of warmth, but it was enough.

Her breath hitched. "Aaric—" "Mm?" His voice was pure sin, his mouth still hovering near her skin, so close, too close. "We’re supposed to be studying," she said, though it came out weaker than intended. "Are we?" His hand slid up, fingers ghosting over her thigh. "Because I distinctly remember you calling me a distraction just now."

Y/N clenched her jaw, willing herself not to react. But when his teeth scraped just barely along the curve of her throat—deliberate, teasing, testing—her resolve shattered. She turned in her chair, grabbed the front of his shirt, and yanked him down to kiss him. Aaric let out a quiet, pleased sound, his hands immediately finding her waist. His lips curled into a smirk against hers, like he had won. And maybe he had. Again.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

The training grounds were mostly empty this late in the afternoon—perfect for a fight. Y/N had purposefully avoided sparring with Aaric for the last few days. She told herself it was because she needed a break from his cocky smirks and infuriatingly smooth voice. The truth? She was still thinking about that damned study session. The way he had kissed her neck, the way he had looked at her, the way he had smirked against her lips like he knew exactly what he was doing to her.

It had taken everything in her not to drag him straight to bed afterward. And now? Now she was going to beat the shit out of him for it. Aaric was already waiting for her when she arrived at the training mats, rolling his shoulders in a way that made his too-fitted shirt stretch over his arms. Smug as ever. "Thought you’d run off," he teased, spinning a practice blade between his fingers. "Can’t say I’d blame you."

Y/N raised a brow, pulling her own dagger from its sheath. "Big words for someone who got his ass handed to him last time." His grin sharpened. "Is that how you remember it?" "That’s how it happened." He hummed, stepping into the circle, casual but coiled with tension. "Then prove it." Oh, she would. They circled each other, slow and deliberate, watching, waiting. Aaric always fought lazy, like it was a game, like he already knew he would win. And that only made Y/N more determined.

She moved first. A quick lunge, aiming for his ribs—but Aaric was faster. He dodged with ease, just barely, the air shifting as her dagger sliced past him. Instead of countering, he stepped into her space, too close, forcing her to adjust. "Sloppy," he murmured, voice dripping with amusement. "Eat shit," she muttered, shoving him back and twisting into another strike. This time, he blocked her, their arms locking together. His body pressed against hers for a second too long, heat radiating through their clothes.

Y/N refused to let it distract her. She shifted, trying to hook his leg and knock him off balance—but he saw it coming. Before she could blink, Aaric flipped her, twisting their bodies mid-air so that when they hit the ground, he landed on top, pinning her with his full weight. Gods. His knees trapped her thighs, his hands braced on either side of her head, and his chest—broad, solid, annoyingly warm—pressed into hers.

Y/N hated how good it felt. Aaric smirked down at her, breathing only slightly uneven. "That was rude." Y/N scowled. "You’re rude." He laughed, the sound low, easy, too damn attractive. "And yet, here you are. Flat on your back beneath me." Bastard. She tried to buck him off, but he only pressed his weight down harder, making very clear that she wasn’t going anywhere. "Give up?" he asked, lips hovering far too close to hers.

Y/N swallowed. Her heart was racing—not just from the fight, but from him. The way he was looking at her, lingering, waiting. Like he wanted something. And she almost—almost—let him have it. But then she remembered his smirk. That damned, arrogant smirk. So instead of surrendering, she feigned a sigh, went slack beneath him—and then drove her knee straight into his gut.

Aaric let out a strangled oof, rolling off her just long enough for her to scramble back up and press her blade to his throat. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, to her absolute horror, Aaric grinned. A full, delighted, almost proud grin. "That," he murmured, "was dirty." Y/N, still breathless, narrowed her eyes. "You fight dirty all the time." "Exactly." His grin turned downright wicked. "Means you’re finally learning."

She huffed, stepping back and sheathing her dagger. "You’re impossible." Aaric pushed himself up with ease, brushing dust from his shirt. His gaze never left hers, dark with something she couldn’t quite name. "So, you wanna go back to my room?" he murmured, voice almost too soft. Y/N didn’t respond. Because the truth? She did-all the freaking time and never wanted to leave. And that was becoming a very, very big problem.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

The music was loud, the air thick with heat and laughter. The kind of night that should have felt easy, effortless, fun. And for a while, it did. Y/N had walked in with her friends, feeling good. Dressed in something that made her feel confident, smiling at the familiar buzz of voices, the golden glow of lanterns casting shadows across the walls. Sloane shoved a drink into her hand, and she let herself relax.

She deserved this. After an exhausting week of training and avoiding the very obvious problem that was Aaric Graycastle, she deserved a night where she wasn’t thinking about him. And then—She saw him. Across the room, leaning against the bar, posture too casual, too familiar. That stupid lazy smirk curving his mouth.

The same smirk he gave her when he whispered dirty things in her ear, when he pinned her against the training mat, when he pulled her into dark corners between squad meetings just to press his lips to her neck, to murmur how badly he wanted her. Only now—now, he wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at someone else.

Some girl she didn’t recognize, tall, pretty, laughing at something he said. Y/N froze, drink half-raised to her lips. The air in the room shifted, her chest tightening, stomach lurching like she’d been punched. He was so close to her. Leaning in, tilting his head like he was listening so intently, like he actually gave a damn about whatever vapid thing she was saying. Y/N’s grip tightened around her glass.

She should look away. She should leave before she did something reckless, something she couldn’t take back. But she couldn’t. Not when the girl reached out and touched his arm, fingers brushing against his skin. Not when Aaric let her. A sound built in Y/N’s throat—something raw, unfamiliar. Rage. Jealousy. But worse than all of that—hurt. Because for the first time, she wondered—Had she imagined it? All of it?

The way he lingered, the way he touched her even when they weren’t in bed, the way he showed her parts of himself he never showed anyone else. The smirk in the library, the smirk in the sparring ring, the smirk that made her feel like she was something different, something special. Had she been stupid enough to believe she was actually more than just the convenient, no-strings-attached arrangement they had?

The memory of his voice, low, teasing, full of promise, slid through her mind: "You still like sparring with me." Like it was a game. Like he already knew he had won. Maybe he had. Maybe she had always been the one who was going to lose. She downed the rest of her drink and left. Didn’t tell her friends, didn’t look back. Because if she had—if she had let herself keep watching—she didn’t know what she would have done.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

It started subtly. Skipping the gym when she knew he’d be there. Arriving to squad meetings just on time instead of early—no more lingering, no more playful back-and-forth as they walked out together. Then it became deliberate. The first time Aaric walked into a room and she walked out, his brows had knitted together in mild confusion. The second time, his smirk slipped. The third time, when he had caught her wrist in passing and she shook him off without even looking at him—He knew.

Something was wrong. But Y/N told herself it was fine. This was what they agreed on. Just sex. Just convenience. No promises, no strings, no expectations. So why did it feel like she was carving out a part of herself every time she turned her back on him? Why did it feel like she was losing something that had never even been hers to begin with?

She kept her head high, kept moving, ignored the way her stomach knotted when she felt his eyes on her. Because if she stopped—if she let herself falter, if she let herself look at him—She didn’t know if she’d be able to walk away again.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

At first, Aaric told himself it was nothing. She was just busy. She had other things going on. But then—Then he realized it was only him. She still trained with the squad, still laughed with their friends, still lingered in all the same places—She just wouldn’t look at him. And that drove him fucking insane. 

The first time it happened, he brushed it off. The second time, a flicker of irritation. The third time? That was when he started watching. She still laughed when Bodhi teased her, still rolled her eyes at Ridoc’s nonsense, still shared those knowing looks with Violet. But when Aaric stepped into the room? 

She closed off. Her shoulders stiffened. Her expression shut down. And she walked away. Every. Single. Time. Aaric didn’t consider himself the obsessive type. He didn’t chase. Didn’t need to. But this? This was different. This was her slipping through his fingers, and the worst part? He didn’t know why. So he started pressing. He cornered Bodhi first—leaned against a table, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

“What did I do?” Bodhi just shrugged. “You tell me.” Unhelpful. He tried Ridoc next. No luck. Even Violet, who normally saw too much, just gave him a knowing look and said, “Figure it out yourself.” And that was the moment Aaric realized—They all knew. And they weren’t telling him. The frustration boiled. Turned into something sharp. Something obsessive.

And the moment he saw her at training, saw the way she caught sight of him and immediately moved to leave—Something inside him snapped. No. No. She did not get to do this. She did not get to pull away, to pretend he didn’t exist, to act like he was just some passing thing she could erase from her life. If she wanted to leave—if she wanted to end whatever this was—Then she was going to have to look him in the fucking eyes and say it.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

Aaric had been patient. Or at least, he’d told himself he had. He let her ignore him for days. Let her pretend he didn’t exist. Let her walk out of rooms the second he stepped into them. But patience wasn’t his virtue, and restraint had never been his strong suit—especially when it came to her. So when he saw her after class, lingering behind while everyone else filtered out, he didn’t think. He moved.

The door slammed behind them as he pulled her into an old, abandoned classroom, pressing her back against the wall before she had a chance to escape. His hands braced on either side of her head, caging her in. Her eyes flashed with fury. "What the hell—" "Tell me why you're avoiding me," he cut her off, voice low and demanding. She glared. Crossed her arms. "I don’t owe you an explanation."

Aaric exhaled sharply through his nose, his patience hanging by a thread. "You’re going to ignore me forever, then?" He leaned in, forcing her to either meet his gaze or look away in cowardice. "That’s the plan?" She stayed silent. That pissed him off even more. He tilted his head, eyes dark and sharp as he studied her. "You don’t get to do this," he murmured, voice quieter now, but no less intense. "You don’t get to act like we’re nothing."

That was what broke her. Her chin lifted, eyes blazing. "You broke our agreement first." Aaric scoffed, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "This is about that girl from the party, isn’t it?" His lip curled. "I only entertained her because I saw you with Bodhi." He stepped closer, the heat between them almost unbearable. "Because I was jealous." Another step. His breath fanned against her lips, soft but heavy with intent. "Because I want you to be mine."

She swallowed hard, her resolve wavering for a brief moment before she caught herself. "You don’t get to say that. Not after—" But she never got to finish. Aaric’s mouth crashed onto hers, hard, desperate. As if he’d been starving for her, as if the dam holding him back had finally shattered. She gasped against his lips, and he seized the opportunity, his tongue sweeping in to claim her.

Her fingers dug into the fabric of his shirt, nails scraping against his skin, and, fuck, he needed her closer. He lifted her with ease, placing her on the desk behind them without breaking the kiss. His hands slid under her shirt, finding the hot, bare skin of her waist, and she shivered at the contact. "You drive me fucking insane," he muttered against her lips, his fingers pressing into her hips. She let out a breathless laugh, eyes dazed and pupils blown wide. "Right back at you."

That was all the permission he needed. Their clothes came off in a flurry, discarded onto the dusty floor in haste. His mouth found the curve of her neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses that made her head fall back, a soft moan escaping her lips. "Still mad at me?" he murmured, nipping at the tender spot beneath her jaw. She barely managed to shake her head. Aaric grinned, wicked and triumphant, before slipping inside her, making her moan loud enough to echo through the room. "Aaric—oh gods," she gasped, her body pressed up against his as her arms instinctively wrapped around his shoulders for support.

His thrusts were hard, relentless, hitting that sweet spot inside her. Aaric’s hand found the soft skin of her neck, wrapping around it possessively, squeezing just enough to send a jolt of sensation through her. Her hands gripped his, her eyes wide and lost in the heat of the moment as she met his gaze. With a swift motion, he pushed her back onto the desk, changing their angle so deep, so perfect, that she could hardly breathe.

Her moans grew louder, and he tightened his hold, restricting her airflow just enough to heighten the sensation even more. She bit her lip, her teeth sinking into it as she gasped, “Fuck, Aaric. Feels so good.” He smirked, sweat building on his forehead and abs, his thrusts growing deeper, harder. "I love seeing you like this," he groaned. "You’re so fucking sexy, sweetheart." Her walls fluttered around him, and he knew she was close. But just as she was on the edge, he stopped, holding himself inside her, perfectly still.

“What are you doing?” she groaned, trying to shift her hips, desperate for more friction. He clicked his tongue in disapproval. "I want you to say it. Tell me I’m the only one for you." His gaze was intense as his fingers tightened around her neck again, waiting. Her eyes fluttered shut, a whimper escaping her as she let out a breathless plea, “Please, Aaric, I need to come.”

He murmured softly, “Wrong answer, baby.” But despite his words, his hips shifted again, and his other hand moved to lift her leg over his shoulder, deepening their connection, making her moan even louder. “Oh, yes,” she moaned, her hands cupping his face, trying to pull him into a kiss, but he refused, his eyes locked onto hers as he thrust faster, harder.

The pressure built once again, and she thought she was finally going to fall over the edge. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, drawing blood as she neared her release. But then, just like before, he pulled out of her, stopping everything. “No, no, no, no, please Aaric. Please,” she begged, her body arching toward him, desperate to pull him back in.

He raised an eyebrow, unmoved. "It’s you. It’s always been you," she gasped, grabbing his hands, pulling him against her. She pressed her forehead to his, her breath fast, ragged. But he didn’t move, didn’t respond. Her heart pounded, and then, in a whisper, she admitted it: “I love you.”

And with that, all his restraint shattered. With one swift motion, he was inside her again, railing into her, driving her into the old desk. The force of his thrusts had her seeing stars. "Fuck, sweetheart," Aaric groaned, the intensity of their pleasure growing with each passing second, both of them on the verge of breaking. And then they came together, a tidal wave of sensation crashing over them, moaning each other’s names as their bodies shuddered in sync.

When they finally collapsed together, skin slick and hearts still racing, he cupped her face, tilting her chin up so she had no choice but to look at him. His forehead rested against hers, their breaths mingling in the space between them. "So..." His voice was softer now, vulnerable in a way she hadn’t expected. "Can I be yours?"

Silence stretched between them, heavy with the weight of everything they had just done. The unspoken truth settled in the air. Then, she exhaled, her breath shaky. She nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Yeah," she whispered. "Yeah, you can.” And in that moment, with everything finally laid bare, he smiled, his heart full. "I love you, too."

[callsign-rogueone]

bedtime

🏷️: some bedtime / cuddle headcanons for our 8 boyfriends, presented for your consideration in no particular order. implications of a sexual relationship between y’all in some of these, but it’s very mild. all of them are gender neutral as well!

Garrick holds you like you’re his teddy bear. it’s so easy for him to loop his arms around your waist and tug you into his chest and put his chin on top of your head and keep you there all night. you fit perfectly in his arms, since he’s an absolute giant. but he doesn’t want to let go of you all night, so if you need to get up… no you don’t. he gets up at the crack of dawn every morning to go lift weights, but he won’t wake you up — he’ll just tuck you in and give you a little forehead kiss before he leaves. he’s always so happy to see you in the morning when you’re up and ready, greeting you with another kiss and a gentle squeeze of a hug and asks how you slept. he’ll tease you lightly if you were drooling or snoring when he got up, but he finds it cute.

Dain is annoyingly responsible, so he’s getting you both into bed by ten every night. but he’s going to help you get ready — picking your pajamas and laying them out for you, packing your bag for the next day while you’re in the shower… makes sure that you brush your teeth and all that, and then tucks you in next to him. he likes having you wrapped up in his arms for a while, your head resting on his shoulder while you drift toward sleep. he’s always so happy when you choose to sleep in his bed, because that means you trust him — both not to hurt you, because it’s kill or be killed in the riders quadrant, and not to read your memories (because MY version of Dain would never 🥰) and also you’re making a conscious decision to choose him, over everyone else you could be with. (our boy’s a little insecure. probably because daddy dearest is such an ass.)

Brennan needs to be bribed into bed because otherwise he’ll work through the night and fall asleep at his desk. method that always works: show up at his office in your cute little jammies, stand behind his chair, gently massage the stress out of his shoulders and use that soft sweet voice to ask him to come up, because you can’t sleep without him :( and he’ll fold immediately. paperwork: abandoned. just let him drag himself through the shower and he’ll be ready to curl up with you. he likes to rest his head on your chest and listen to your heartbeat as a reminder that you’re alive and well. like Garrick, he’s not letting go of you any time soon. you’re stuck there, sorry <3

conversely, Bodhi is the one tugging you into bed. he wants to lay down and cuddle as soon as you’re done with dinner. he likes to alternate between big spoon and little spoon, because there’s perks to both. as the big spoon, he gets to keep you nice and safe and warm in his arms (this boy is SO toasty warm at all times) but also he needs to be touching you at all times. and as the small spoon, he gets to be held the way he deserves! he likes to be facing you, though (I know that’s not technically spoons, but idk the name). put your arm around his waist and play with his hair and let him nuzzle his cheek into your shoulder and give you a few lazy neck kisses before he knocks right out.

Ridoc is absolutely shameless. yes, he likes being close to you and showing love, holding you and keeping you safe and warm, but his favorite part of snuggling is the access to your body. you’re right there — and so are all the soft parts of you that he loves. he can squeeze your hips / thighs / ass / chest, and rub his hands all over, under the guise of helping you wind down. he’s respectful though — if he knows you’re truly exhausted, or you tell him to quit it, he won’t do any of that. maybe one little affectionate pat on the hip, or him rubbing your back a little, but otherwise he’ll be hands off and just go to sleep, holding you gently. apart from the feral side, he’s very sweet, and wants to make sure you’re comfy. he’d let you have more of the pillows and blankets / the better ones, because he loves you and knows you need your sleep.

Liam is another that is tugging you into bed. he gets pouty when you stay up too late doing other things bc he wants to cuddle. likes to lay his head on your chest for, wrap his arms around your waist and let your heartbeat lull him to sleep while you give him head scratches, sweet puppy baby. he’s also subconsciously protecting you this way, curling up on top of you to shield you from danger. you don’t sleep like that all night though, because you need to move around and get more comfy, but you’ll find yourselves cuddled together in the morning, you laying on him, or spooning or something. he always wants to be close to you for a while before he goes off to follow Violet around, so he’ll purposely wake up 10-15 mins early. if he accidentally wakes you up, he’ll whisper like… “Get some more sleep, honey. I love you.” and then when you settle back down against him, he’ll lay there for a while just silently appreciating that you’re his partner and you’re so pretty and sweet and soft.

Sawyer would be a little shy at first, but once you’re in an established relationship, he’s shameless about it. if you get in bed first, he’s tugging you into his arms, or if he gets in first, he’s making grabby hands and opening his arms to you like — ’mere. lemme hold u. when he has his injury, that complicates things a little since you don’t want to put pressure on his leg or cause him pain. you settle for holding hands, like sea otters, and make up for the lost physical contact with plenty of hugs and kisses. once he’s finally healed, though, it’s back to snuggling every night. he likes to be the one to hold you, because he wants to feel like the more masculine partner in the traditional sense (the same with Dain. idk. they just give me the vibe that they want a sweet little partner to protect and hold. that’s why I gave him peach).

Aaric… I’m torn on him. I feel like he’s a little prissy about his beauty sleep, but he’d still cuddle with his partner a bit and share a bed. maybe not every night, though. he’d have a very comfortable bed, both in the castle, because duh, but also in Basgiath and at Riorson house, because he’s somehow acquired extra pillows and blankets; the softest ones, too — rich boy habits die hard. he’d like to be the one holding you, though. letting you rest your head on his chest / shoulder, or being the big spoon for you. he’s pretty tall and pretty built, so it would be nice to have him completely cover you like that. he’d probably also be up super early, like Garrick, and would also give you a soft little goodbye kiss and let you sleep another hour. he really likes the sight of you in his bed (not like that, but also yes like that — I mean more in a sense of: this person is mine, they’re sleeping in my blankets and making the bed smell like them, and nobody else gets that.)

[natailiatulls07]

Mick Schumacher x Platonic!reader Oscar Piastri x Platonic!reader Logan Sargeant x Platonic!reader Liam Lawson x Platonic!reader

Summary - Five young drivers, five different teams and one friendship group

Warning - One hate comment??

Reader drivers for Redbull

Part two three

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yourusername

Back in the paddock, who's ready for the season??

Tagged: redbullracing

Liked by fernandoalo_oficial and 203,479 others

username Can't wait for more success from our girlie

username We miss you, where have you been??!

= logansargeant She spent the whole winter break binge watching gossip girl and gilmore girls

= yourusername Shhhhhhhh

username Just waiting for the baby drivers content!!

liamlawson30 posted a story

logansargeant

Fuck I'm friends with some weird ass people

Tagged: mickschumacher liamlawson30 oscarpiastri yourusername

Liked by alex_albon and 202,735 others

username Nah Oscar's just being cute ngl

username Liam is giving main character energyyyy

yourusername Why is mine the worst one here omfggg??

= logansargeant Because you are the most weird one!

= yourusername I'm not sharing my sushi with you after the race this weekend

= mickschumacher Aww mate, you've really fucked up there lolll

yourusername posted a story

yourusername Should I die my hair Red?? Seriously debating it rn

OscarPiastri No, please no!

SchumacherMick Hell yeah! Fire hair!!

LiamLawson30 Oh god! Mick don't encourage her!!!! OMFG

LoganSargeant All I'll say is that you drive for Redbull, and the colour red is owned by a rival of yours

yourusername OMG YOU ARE SO RIGHT!! Let's do rainbow then!

LiamLawson30 Well done Logan! That worked well didn't it?

OscarPiastri I'm so done with you four, so done.

SchumacherMick You know you love us!!

mickschumacher

Y/n choose the group activity today and she choose sushi, surprise surprise! And Liam turned up in his Ken hoodie which he was very proud of lmao

Tagged: yourusername oscarpiastri logansargeant liamlawson30

Liked by georgerussell and 214,648 others

username That sushi looks sooo good thooo

username Is Y/n wearing friendship bracelets?? Please tell me she made the rest of the guys one each!!?

= username OMFG CAN YOU IMAGINE

liamlawson30 We should defo do sushi again!! I'm still very proud of my hoodie!

= yourusername I loved the hoodie!

Groupchat - Baby drivers (Mick-Purple / Logan-Blue / Oscar-Orange / Liam-White / Y/n-Pink)

HELP FUCK

WAIT WHAT?!

Mick what did you do?!?!

Are you in safety?!

Whats happened???!

I was stalking this girls page when I accidently liked a post from when she was fifteen!!

Aww mate you're screwed!

When she was fifteen?! How old is she now??

Damn you really fucked uppp

She's 23! So over seven years agooo

Yeah that's awkward ngl!

maxverstappen1

Soo thank you for the smashed trophy Y/n, always so helpful! :|

Tagged: redbullracing yourusername

Liked by yourusername and 223,781 others

username She really said 'Let's all share this win'

oscarpiastri I don't know why they trust her near trophies, pretty sure almost all of her own are broken

= yourusername Shhh, I'm trying my best to seem trust worthy

username Thing is she just laughed about it lol

= username I'm just glad that Max isn’t that annoyed, he joined in with her laughter

yourusername posted a story

f1gossip

Spotted: Redbull driver, Y/n L/n and Actor, Barry Keoghan are seen and paped leaving a restaurant together in Monte Carlo. From our sources, it looked like they were on a date and that they were both very intimate with each other. Do we have a new wag in the paddock and are we going to see one of our baby drivers walking a red carpet more often?

Liked by logansargeant and 59,572 others

username Y/n and Barry Keoghan??! The same Barry who was in Saltburn??!

username He is almost ten years older than her ewww

oscarpiastri Oh so this is how we find out...

= logansargeant Ikr!

= mickschumacher She said that she was busy at a redbull event tonight

= liamlawson30 Apparently nottt

username Not the other baby drivers finding out through this post!!!

Groupchat - Baby drivers

So Y/n how's the redbull event??!

Yeah are you and Max bored yet?

Yeahhh

Uh guys I can't really talk rn, me and Max are needed on stage to speak

Oh don't worry, say hi to Barry for us

Barry? Who's Barry??

You know Barry Keoghan, the Barry who you were seen cosying up to at a restaurant in MONTE CARLO

Yeah didn't know the new Milton Keynes is in Monte Carlo, crazy right!

Fuck you've seen the paparazzi photos right...?

Yep! So what's going on with Saltburn guy???

Yeah go on tell us how it went

Or how it's going

yourusername posted a story

-

[angstywaifu]

Fourth Wing Boys - Comfort

Request - head canons for they boys about how they act when they had a bad day and just need some comfort

A/N: There are slight spoilers for Onyx Storm in here. Do not read if you don't wish to have some things spoiled or eluded to.

Masterlist | Links |

Garrick

Initially this man would be so grumpy. He’d have been dealing with a bunch of first years who thought they knew everything now they’d bonded dragons, and had to do a supply run the night before as well. So between both of those and the little sleep he’d gotten, he’d just be over it.

You’d see him storming off after barely eating any food at dinner. Something that was very unlike him. He’d eat nearly ten times the amount you did. But when he’d barely finished one plate of food, you knew something was wrong.

You’d go after him, heading to the gym where you knew he’d go to left off some steam from whatever was bothering him. But not before grabbing some extra food for him and water before heading there.

You walk in on him unleashing his anger on one of the punching bags. His punches echoing around the room from how hard he’s hitting it.

You wait off to the side, knowing he can tell you’re there. But you know better than to interfere with him. It’s better to leave him be till he wears himself out. Which doesn’t take long. After about 10 minutes he grasps the bag to stop it from swinging around before walking over to you.

As he walks over you undo the top of the water bottle you'd grabbed, and hold out the apple you'd grabbed for him. After draining the water and devouring the apple he picks you up and sits you down on a pile of mats, stepping between your legs as he rests his hands on your hips and leans his forehead against yours.

After a while you convince him to go take a shower before dragging him into bed, laying his head in your lap as your run your fingers through his curly hair, watching as his body slowly relaxes before he lightly starts snoring.

Xaden

You know instantly he’s had a bad day. Hard not to notice with how restless as the shadows are. He may not be nearby, but you’ve always noticed how the shadows in Basgiath react to his mood regardless of where he is.

You find him in his usual spot, leaning up against the exterior walls of Basgiath as he smokes churam. Something he only did when Sgaeyl and Tairn didn’t block him out, or when he’d had a bad day. But it was easy to tell this was from a bad day. Despite the way he leaned up against the wall, his body was tense and rigid.

He doesn’t look at you as you join him against the wall, but you know he knows you’re there. You know better than to try talk to him till he’s ready. It was better to let him start the conversation when he was in one of these moods, otherwise it just made it worse.

Eventually he finishes the Churam he’s smoking, turning his head to look down at you. “That obvious I was in a bad mood?” he asks. You nod up at him, trying to hide you’re smile. “Yeah, just a bit. Which is why I brought you this.”

You reach into your pack you’d brought with you to carry what you’d grabbed from the kitchen. Chocolate cake. His favourite. Instantly a relaxed smile forms on his lips at the sight of the little brown box in your hands. He knows instantly what it is, because you always do this for him.

And just like you always do, you sit down against the wall, chocolate cake on the ground between you two as you sit in a comfortable silence and eat it.

Bodhi

It wasn’t hard to see the way Xaden was getting to Bodhi. Everytime you saw them talking together, you could see how frustrated Bodhi was getting every single time. You had no clue what it was about as he hadn’t brought it up with you, and you didn’t want to bring it up and cause him more stress.

But one night when he isn’t at dinner or at his room, you know you need to find him and talk to him or do something to make him feel better. After searching the entire college, you finally head to the flight field. And sitting on the ground next to a Cuir is Bodhi.

Cuir lifts their head as you approach, watching you as you slowly approach Bodhi. You’d never approached Cuir, but when they lay their head back down on the ground, you know they don’t mind your presence. You sit next to Bodhi, reaching out and grasping his hand to stop him from picking at the grass.

It’s clear how annoyed he is as you take him in. He’d done a good job of hiding it up until now. His body was stiff and rigid and brow furrowed as he kept his eyes downcast to the ground in front of you. After a few minutes he finally relaxes, leaning his head against your shoulder as he grasps your hand in his.

Eventually he stands, pulling you up with him before leading you back to the college and dragging you to his room where he pulls you to his bed, and insisting he gets to be little spoon as you cuddle him to sleep.

Aaric

Since the appearance of Halden, you had noticed a change in Aaric. It was small at first. Just slight changes in behaviour on the day he was around the college. The days where Aaric had to be more careful of where he went so Halden didn’t see him.

But you noticed a big shift once Halden knew he was in the Rider’s Quadrant. Especially today when he’d been pulled from a class, summoned by his brother and father. Once he had returned he was notably pissed off. Everyone else avoiding being around him. You could almost see the anger rolling off him.

You’d decided to let him be after you’d tried talking to him and he’d just grunted in reply. Pushing it would have just made him worse. He would come to you when he was ready. Which he did. Storming into the gym after dinner and heading right for you. Everyone else immediately moves out of his way, not wanting to get in his way. And you couldn’t blame them with how pissed off he looked.

You open your mouth to say something to him, but it turns into a yelp as he literally scoops you up into his arms and turns around. Despite how he turns and storms from the room, you can feel the way he relaxed as soon as he had you in his arms.

He carries you the entire way back to his room, even after you tell him you can walk. He kicks the door closed behind him before sitting down on the bed, cradling you in his lap as he holds you against him, resting his head atop yours as you bury it in his neck.

Dain

You walk into his room to Dain pacing back and forth, nearly pulling his hair out as he grumbles to himself. Clearly something had him worked up today. Something you’d definitely not been there for.

“Do I want to know what happened?” You ask, Dain startling as if he didn’t realise you’d walked in.

He starts pacing and rambling about first years and how they aren’t training the way they should, and how they’re going to be under prepared if they don’t start strengthening their signets. But insists that after what he went through with Violet he would not be coddling first years any more.

Despite his comment about not wanting to coddle them, you can see as a Wingleader he wants to do something. But he’s just not sure as to what. Which for him is a first. But since everything got turned upside down at the start of our third year, he’s been more unsure of himself than usual.

You reach out and grab his hand, stopping him before he wears a hole in the floor from how how much he’s pacing back and forth. You swear you can already see wear marks from the path he’s been walking. You reach out and grab his towel and shower things, shoving them into his hands.

“Now is not the time for showering.” He goes to exclaim before you start pushing him towards the door.

“Trust me it is. Not only do you need a shower to clear your mind, you also stink from being at said training with first years who don’t need coddling. So unless you want me to start coddling you, go shower.”

Dain just stands there and looks at you in shock, clearly not expecting you to come back like that. “How about cuddling instead of coddling?” He finally asks.

“Shower first, then cuddling.”

Ridoc

Ridoc was always making jokes, or making light of a situation. But there was something different about his jokes this evening. A different edge to them that just didn’t seem quite like Ridoc. His jokes had a more self deprecating tone to them than normal

When the others went to get more food, you stayed behind. Something he noticed as he locked eyes with you across the table. He knew you had seen right through him. Knew you’d picked up on his slight change in behaviour the others hadn’t. All it takes is a raised eyebrow before he tells you.

“Aotrom saw right through my prank.” He admits with a huff of annoyance.

You knew he’d been so excited about this prank. Had been going on about it for weeks. Clearly he must have slipped with his shields and Aotrom had seen it coming and foiled his plans.

“Well I guess you’re just going to have come up with an even better prank then.” You say excitedly, hoping it will peak his interest.

Ridoc just sighs and hangs his head. “But this one took weeks to plan and it was amazing. I don’t know if I can top it.”

“Well good thing you have me to help you plan this one then isn’t it.” You tell him

Instantly Ridoc lights up with excitement. Usually you try to stay out of his pranks, even when he begged and pleaded for your input. So you knew you offering to help him would make his day instantly better. And it does. Ridoc practically jumps over the table to sit next to you and start formulating his next prank.

Sawyer

Sawyer wasn’t the loudest of the group, but he certainly wasn’t the quietest. But since challenge’s halfway through the day you’d noticed him getting quieter and quieter. Watched has he’d zone out to the point you’d had to shove his shoulder when Kaori had asked him a question and had just stared blankly at the front of the classroom like he hadn’t heard him.

You’d wanted to grab him after class but Rhi had pulled you aside to talk about some training she wanted to do together the next day seeing as we were still unable to fly due to the colder weather. And when you’d turned around, he was gone. And then at dinner, his chair remained empty.

While the others were lost in their own conversation you left, heading up to his room. You could see the flicker of light under his door, knowing he was inside. You knocked on the door, only to be met with silence. Thirty seconds later you tried again, and yet again no response.

“I know you’re in there Sawyer. I’m not leaving till you open the door.” You call out as you rest your hand against the door.

Finally after a few moments the door swings open, revealing a very withdrawn Sawyer who turns and walks into his room before sitting on the edge of the bed and burying his head in his hands. You close the door behind you, walking over and sitting next to him as you place a hand on his back. You feel him tense up, but he quickly relaxes into your touch.

You didn’t need to ask what was wrong. Because you already knew. He’d lost his challenge. Watched him fumble over a manoeuvre he knew well. And it had cost him the win. And you knew he was kicking himself for it. Knew with the weight of what happened last year he didn’t feel like he was good enough to be here.

“I know what you’re thinking. And one mistake doesn’t mean you’re not good enough to be here, to be a rider. We all make mistakes.” You tell him. He lifts his head, lips parting to argue back. But you cut him off. “No. I’m not letting you do this. You are enough Sawyer. You bonded a dragon this year. Hell, you repeated a year when most people wouldn’t. You deserve your spot here. Don’t ever doubt that.”

After a few seconds he smiles softly at you, his usual spark back in his eyes. “Gods you’re too good for me. I love you.” He says as he takes your hands in his. “Love you to Sawyer.”

Liam

It’s late at night when someone knocks at your door. A first you freeze, not sure if you should answer the door. Who the hell would be knocking at your door this late at night. You’re tempted to pretend you’re asleep when they knock again, this time followed by a familiar voice.

“I know you’re in there reading Y/N. Open the door. Please.”

The way he says please has you throwing the book down on the bed, rushing across the room and pulling open the door to a very exhausted looking Liam. Liam who looks like he’s about two seconds away from dropping dead from exhaustion.

You grasp his hand, pulling him into your room before closing the door and pulling him over to your bed. You hadn’t expected to see him tonight. He was meant to be out on a supply run. Wasn’t due back till far later in the evening. But it’s clear he never made it on the supply run. The usual smell that came from riding a dragon was absent.

You knew from the look on his face what was up. He missed his sister. And he only got like this when an important date around his family came up. And clearly today was one of them. A day where he needed his sister, but couldn’t. Just a few more months and he’d have her back.

You start to push off his flight jacket, undoing the laces on his boots before he kicks them off and pulling down his pants and removing his shirt. Pushing back the covers, you usher him into your bed before sliding in next to him.

Instantly his arms wrap around you as he cuddles up to you, resting his head against your chest as you play with his hair. Both of you enjoying each others company in blissful silence.

[multicohn]

summary: when yuki’s girlfriend gets into a dating rumour with another idol, he gets jealous and hard launches their relationship much to the dismay of her company.

warnings: just nctzens being haters 🙄 ( im an nctzen🧍‍♀️)

pairing: fem! kpop idol! reader x yuki tsunoda

genre: social media au

face claim: no one in particular but the images used are from pinterest plus fromis9’s jiheon, seoyeon, jisun, and saerom’s instagrams

author note: my first post 🫶🫶 also yes, i’m aware that dating in kpop isn’t very… accepted and if an idol’s s/o did this they might actually be fired but this is fictional so 🤷‍♀️

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view all 4,179 comments

user: i can’t stand this bitch

user: who tf does she think she is

user: please don’t put him into a hiatus sm 🙏🙏🙏

|

user: i might just kms if that happened

user: no not my renjun :(

user: they’re only doing this so forjoy can get attention for their comeback

user: lol what a pick me

user: they’re gonna break up. y/n is too much for junnie

user: ew

user: lmao look at the way jun is looking at her 😂😂😂 hes def breaking up with her

user: who the hell is y/n

|

user: she’s the ( lead rapper or lead vocalist ) and the maknae of forjoy

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✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

yukitsunoda0511 posted to their story!

|

forjoy_y/n: i miss you too bby. please more careful though, my company is still debating on whether or not to allow us to go public

yukitsunoda0511: 👍

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

yukitsunoda0511

liked by forjoy_y/n and others

yukitsunoda0511: well. all i have to say is;

1. do not believe everything you see on the internet

2. y/n is happily dating me and renjun is just a friend of hers.

3. please listen to glow and buy rockslide by forjoy so her company doesn’t gets mad 🫶

view all 5,180 comments

liamlawson30: nah…. my guy was serious

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yukitsunoda0511: kys

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liamlawson30: ON THE MAIN ACCOUNT?

user: WTF SINCE WHEN

user: oh.

user: HOW TF DID THIS EVEN HAPPEN

user: QUICK HOW TALL IS SHE

user: what language do they speak in?

user: MY WIFE AND MY HUSBAND ARE DATING??

forjoy_y/n: yuki…

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yukitsunoda0511: ☺️

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forjoy_y/n: 🤦‍♀️

[theseinfernalangels]

Forgive and Forget - Aaric Graycastle

Synopsis: After the most venomous arguments, the best way of healing comes from soft apologies and gentle touches.

A/N: I think this might be the longest fic I’ve ever written. I don’t mind, though, because I’m also very proud of it. Aaric girls are generally quiet on here, but I see y’all.

Includes: Angst, slight miscommunication, temper issues on Reader’s part, hurt comfort, kissies, fluff at the end. Takes place somewhere between the margins in Iron Flame.

As far as you remembered, you’d never gotten so…disgruntled with Aaric before.

“I’m telling you, it’s a fucking death sentence!” he huffed, his emerald-like irises glittering in anger. “I’m not trying to disregard your abilities or autonomy. I just need you to stay alive.”

“Please,” you scoffed, crossing your arms and glaring up at him like anger incarnate. “Our entire lives are death sentences in of themselves. You do not get to act like you have anystanding in trying to protect me whilst you go and put yourself in the same situation.”

Your fury didn’t make sense to him. He knew you were hotheaded, obviously, but this was on another level; you’d never gotten this upset with him. Had he really offended you so badly? All he wanted to do was protect you from whatever the hell beyond the wards — even if he had to go beg a General to keep you here to do it.

He opened his mouth to counter your words, but you beat him to it. “If you have any other complaints, I’m sure someone else in Leadership will hear you out. We are soldiers, Graycastle. Soldiers fight, and they die. I’m more than willing to give my life for the good of Navarre.”

Aaric’s fingers curled into fists as he struggled to hold back bitter, poisonous words that he knew he would regret sooner or later.

“You can’t just give your life away like it’s nothing,” he said quietly, desperately. “Don’t you get it? Your life matters to people. To me.”

His quiet admission made the fire in your chest falter a little, but it was no use; you were just too stubborn, too prideful, too hurt by the fact that he wouldn’t let you do this for yourself and your friends.

“I’ve known my mission since day one,” you replied lowly. “If I have to die to accomplish it, then so be it. That is what it means to be a rider. We go into this line of work under the pretense that death is certain. I accepted that long ago. You should, too.”

You are so much more than your line of duty, he wanted to say. You are so much more than a soldier, than a person on a mission. Losing you would be like losing the sun.

The words stuck to the back of his throat like some sort of magic was forcing him to choke and drown in them. What could Aaric say to change your stubborn mind? To make you see his logic, to keep yourself from being killed?

You clenched your fists and let out a long, slow exhale to try and quell your anger. “We’re done here,” you whispered, turning around with militaristic precision and beginning to walk away. 

You paused once to turn back to him, your voice quiet and cold.

“If you ever try to pull this bullshit again, Cam, I will never forgive you, nor will I forget it.”

His actual name slipped from your lips before you could have even stopped it, the usual warmth gone in a whirlwind of ice and venom. He’d flinched imperceptibly before you stormed off — a look in his eyes that told you that you’d fucked up on many, many levels.

⋆⁺₊❅.

You weren’t sure what was stinging more — your torn, bloody knuckles, or the venomous words that still danced cruelly over your tongue, ready to bite and maim and hurt. They felt so foreign, for once. You had no issue lashing out at the people who deserved it; the ones who reeked of arrogance and disrespect, the ones who sought to harm and oppress.

Aaric, though?

He’d only wanted to keep you safe. Granted, you thought it was valid how you’d initially reacted. He’d gone to General Sorrengail specifically to ask her to take you out of the squad for your mission. It was shitty, yeah, but he was only concerned for you. And how had you repaid his concern?

You’d spit his real name at him like it was cursed, like it was offensive. What usually came out as warm and gentle on pretty April evenings had turned cold and hurtful.

You’d hurt him. 

You hadn’t meant to call him that. That was an asshole move, and you knew it. But you couldn’t stop it, his name falling from your lips all icy and strict and damaging.

You want to go back and apologize. Tell him you didn’t mean that. But your pride overpowers you, and you know that this should be a lesson for him never to try and disrespect you and your decisions like that again.

You’re torn — more than the skin on your hands that stung and bled from how hard you’d punched the stone walls of your room. You could get some ice to layer on your fingers so that the throbbing would subside. You could be doing anything else, really, than sitting on your bedroom floor, silently stewing in red-hot anger and staring at the bloodstained wall. You didn’t have the energy, though. You felt drained, as if arguing with your — whatever Aaric was to you — had sucked the life out of you. Your dragon wasn’t even speaking to you.

“Wait and think, girl,” she’d said before slamming her shields up, as if she wanted you to figure the entire thing out yourself. “Wait, listen, and think.”

…

What a bitch.

You slump against the wall. It was pointless to get so angry at Aaric, you realize. He just cares about you, but you still think your anger is justified. You feel like an ass, but you think he’s an ass, too. Skies.

You could get up and go to him, you think. You should get up and apologize for lashing out like that. Your anger, cold as ice and more ferocious than that of a hurricane, was not something that the likes of Aaric Graycastle deserved. Sure, you had every right to be pissed at him for trying to talk Leadership out of letting you go on a mission you’d worked so hard to be chosen for…But to yell at him, tell him he’s illogical, and then take something he’d trusted you with and throw it back in his face?

Maybe you were the real asshole here. 

Fine. You stand up with a groan and sluggishly make your way to the door, reluctantly ready to try and work through the problem. 

What would you even say to him? You pause in front of the mahogany wood of the door, trying to script out some half-hazard apology. 

I’m sorry for being a bitch again. I’m sorry I said your name like that. I’m sorry I hurt you for hurting me. I’m sorry that you care about me, for whatever reason. I’m sorry I misinterpreted your intentions, kind of. I’m sorry I took your light, grew a firestorm from it, and made sure it burned you. I’m sorry that you chose to want me alive. I’m sorry I lo—

Your racing thoughts are cut off by a sharp tapping noise from the other side of the door. Despite its roughness, it sounds careful. Hesitant. Like whatever is inside the room — you — needs to be handled with caution.

It makes you feel worse.

But, as much as you feel terrible, you refuse to act like a coward after all of that fighting. It would make the situation even more unfair for the both of you.

Steeling your nerves, you push the door open, grab at the scarred hand you know is resting on the door handle, yank Aaric in past the wards, and shut the door behind him.

Aaric practically topples into your room with a yelp as you slam the door shut behind him, barely managing to keep himself from falling flat face first into the floor. He braces a hand on the wall next to him and turns to you to give a dry, scathing remark when a tinge of red catches his peripherals. He looks down.

Great skies. You’re hurt.

Your back is to him as you let out a slow exhale to try and calm yourself. You don’t know why you let him in. Stupid, you mentally chide yourself.

You sigh, turning around to face him. Your eyes are narrowed, but your tone is defeated and hoarse as you speak, as if your voice was rusted from disuse.

“Spit it out, Graycastle.”

Aaric takes a moment to look you up and down. You look bad. Your knuckles are bloody, and you’re standing with your usually-set shoulders slumped, something in your voice sounding…exhausted. It makes his own anger disappear in a second, that tired look. A barely-there glance at the reddened stone wall tells him everything he needs to know. He swallows the lump forming in his throat as he speaks.

“Can I touch you?”

If this had been earlier, you would’ve punched him in your anger, bloody hands or no. You would’ve yelled or spit some other insult at him to make him leave.

But, honestly? You’re done now, and his concern for you — even after hurting him in a way you’d never thought yourself capable of — makes your heart ache.

You don’t say anything, don’t even look at him as you raise your hands in front of you.

He raises his hands, rough but gentle, to yours, cradling them and turning them to inspect the damage done. A small hiss leaves his mouth at the state of your knuckles before he tugs on your wrist with a murmured, “Sit.”

You let yourself be pulled to the edge of your bed, and you plop down numbly as Aaric stands before you. Then, he does something you don’t expect.

His legs fold, and then he’s suddenly kneeling in front of you, your hands still resting in his. His head is bowed and his breath hits your skin softly.

This is wrong, you tell yourself. You shouldn’t be allowing him to get this close to you — not after what you did to each other. You’re hurt, and you don’t want to see him. On the other hand, though, you don’t think you can go very long without seeing him. Ignoring him is harder than getting close to him.

Aaric’s eyes are locked on your knuckles, his long fingers gently brushing against the wounds.

He can’t look up at you yet, not without breaking the delicate peace between the two of you. He’s scared to look up at you. His heart is hammering in his chest, terrified of what you’ll say.

Instead, he focuses on the wounds. His head is low, but his shoulders are straight, the picture of a proper and stoic rider…except this one is on his knees for you.

You’re both silent for a moment. Aaric is still gently inspecting your knuckles, his touch feather-light.

Every time the pads of his fingers brush over the skin, you feel a shiver run down your spine.

It’s…strange. There is no anger between you both anymore. Any grudges that had risen on your argument had simmered and cooled, leaving both of you with…peace?

No. Not peace, but quiet. A quiet understanding.

You swallow. You don’t want to speak first. You know you’ll fuck it up if you do. You know Aaric won’t, either. You guess it’s some some princely chivalry of some kind. He would let you talk first.

Damn him.

You both remain silent for a few minutes before you quietly say, “It looks worse than it feels.”

You don’t need to see his face to know that his lips are twitching in disapproval. He’s used to you, which is why he continues to lightly brush his fingers against your knuckles, trying to ignore the sharp inhale you keep making at his touch.

He takes a moment, choosing his words carefully.

“Did the wall win, at least?”

You press your lips into a thin line to contain the smile that dares to tug at your mouth.

“Dunno. You tell me. It looks pretty roughed up from this angle.”

His eyes finally flick up to your face before glancing back down at your hands.

“Huh. You sure it didn’t hit you back?”

You look down at your hands, your split knuckles still welling with blood. Yikes. You should probably find a better outlet for your anger than punching the wall like it personally offended you.

You take a deep breath. “It may have blind-sided me a few times.”

A soft chuckle leaves Aaric’s throat. He can’t help it. You’re just so…you, sometimes.

Stubborn, proud, icy, brilliant, beautiful…

He shifts forward, using the sleeve of his jacket to dab at some of the blood, wiping the excess from your knuckles. “You should probably find a better way to vent than beating the shit out of an innocent wall.”

He pauses and fishes a little cloth from his pocket, taking it in between his forefingers and swipes it over your bruised and torn skin.

Extensive training at from before Basgiath has taught you to contain any pained sounds that could leave you, but you can’t help the way your nose scrunches at the sting in your hands. You suppose he’s right. You do need to learn control — both over your mind and your mouth.

You spend a few more minutes in silence before you decide to start talking again. No time like the present to vomit out the words that are bubbling over in your mind. 

“Listen, Aaric. I…I didn’t-“

Aaric’s fingers still at the sound of his name, but he doesn’t look up at you. Instead, he continues to dab away at the blood, his knuckles brushing against the open wounds, before resting the cloth against your middle knuckle. You know he’s listening, though. Waiting intently for you to collect your words before he can cut in.

Oh, damn him. He knows you hate vulnerability and won’t look at you because it’s less pressure on you. Screw his chivalry!

You take a deep breath. “I…What I said earlier…I didn’t mean to. It was a shitty move on my part, and I’m sorry.”

You’re talking about all of it: Being slightly unreasonable, your stubbornness, accidentally saying his real name with all of the venom you could muster…All of it.

He pauses, his fingers gripping your hands slightly tighter than before. He still won’t meet your eyes, but he knows he has a reason; if he looks up, all of his carefully crafted self control will be gone in an instant. His thoughts and feelings would spill out like water from an overflowing bathtub. His silence allows you to continue, the words spilling from you like one of your usual drunken rambles.

“I know you were just trying to look out for me,” you say softly. “I know it’s because you care. I’m sorry for throwing that back in your face. But…I need you to understand why it upset me.”

For the first time since he’s stepped into your room, Aaric looks up at you. His eyes meet yours, and they’re filled with a gleam you’ve only seen on a few occasions.

He just holds your gaze, nodding slightly, letting you know that he’s willing to hear you out. He’s so damn patient with you, and it only serves to make you feel more guilty.

You can’t help the thought: Skies, he’s absolutely beautiful. That’s a prince for you.

“I…” You falter, swallowing. “I get why you asked Leadership to keep me here. But you’ve gotta understand, Aaric…That hurt me. I’ve worked hard for this — my position, my signet, my role in these sorts of things. And for you to ask them to disregard that just for safety…That felt infantilizing. You made it sound like none of my skills even mattered in the long run.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” you add. “I think getting mad at you was perfectly reasonable and fair. I’m still pretty pissed with you. But you didn’t deserve what I said. I don’t — I know I need to work on my temper, and lashing out at you like that didn’t help the situation.”

Fuck, he thinks. This gorgeous, infuriating woman.

He nods as if he’s fully digesting your explanation, his fingers tapping against yours thoughtfully. “I understand. I guess I deserved some of it, anyway.”

You chew on your lip absentmindedly before you continue, your voice soft.

“Gods, no…I’m not…”

You huff in frustration at your lack of confidence. “I am so fucking sorry that I talked to you that way.”

You’re being specific without really saying it. You’re referring to you calling him by his actual name with such icy venom in your voice. It wasn’t even on purpose, but you still felt horrible about it. That’s the crux of the matter, isn’t it?

His eyes don’t meet yours, but his hands trace over your wrists lightly. He reaches into his pocket and produces a small roll of bandages, ripping a small piece off and beginning to wrap your hands in the pristine cloth.

“You hurt me, you know.”

His words are simple, delivered as soft and straight-on as your own.

Ouch. His words break your heart to splinters, but it’s deserved. You nod. You deserve this.

“I know,” you confirm quietly, guilt and shame clear in your voice. “I never meant to do that, nor do I ever intend to again. I can’t give you an excuse for that, but I’m apologizing anyway, because it was shitty to throw that at you, especially when we were both vulnerable.” 

Aaric looks thoughtful for a moment, his fingers still gently wrapping your wounds, cleaning up the blood and covering the scrapes with the now-stained bandages.

Once he’s finished, he keeps your hands in his, his eyes finally lifting up to meet yours. He keeps his gaze locked on yours as he lifts one of your hands up to his mouth—

And gently kisses the inside of your wrist.

Oh. 

Oh.

His mouth is softer than you could’ve imagined, gentler, leaving a gentle brush of heat and faint pressure on your sensitive skin. Every nerve ending there is tingling with something new, unfamiliar.

You’ve always been a hyperaware person; right now, you’re very aware that your cheeks are warm.

You’d never admit it to him, but you’d always wondered what his lips felt like. You’d never imagined that they’d be so soft on your skin.

Your hand twitches and you blink down at him. What do you even say in this situation?

“I…Aaric-“

“Hush,” he murmurs, cutting you off. He shifts so he’s more comfortable, still kneeling in front of you. He remains staring at you, though, his beautiful green eyes never wavering once.  Gentle kisses trail up your wrist towards your palm, each of them a small burst of heat against your skin.

Now, how did a civilized conversation about apologies end up like this? You barely have a clue; honestly, there aren’t many coherent thoughts on your brain right now that aren’t about him. Your pulse goes mad, the soft skin of his lips sending a small chill down your spine. You want to say something, but you know he’d just shush you again, so you just stare at him, stunned into silence.

He snickers quietly at your widened eyes. “You,” he says in a low voice, “tend to speak without thinking. This—“ Another kiss is pressed to your wrist, just above your veins — “feels like the easiest way of getting you to be quiet.”

You blink. Once, twice, three times before you respond.

“I’m not running my mouth,” you insist, your voice coming out a little softer, a little unsure. “I’m apologizing for hurting you.”

He exhales quietly. “I know,” he replies. “And I’m doing the same.”

You assume this is some royal thing that you don’t know about. Whatever it is, it’s certainly…intimate.

Your eyes soften as you watch him. You’d honestly been considering sobbing into him and trying to make up an excuse for yourself, but that was a shitty idea.

Yeah. You’d much rather be here with him.

The corner of his mouth quirks upwards, his free hand lifting up to tenderly trace your jawline, the callouses on his palm scraping gently against the skin.

“I can see the gears turning. You think it’s different?”

It’s almost like he’s read your mind. 

“Well…Yeah,” you reply. “And I think I should be making up for what I said. You don’t deserve my anger.”

He laughs a little. “I get it. But I think this makes up for it plenty, if you’re alright with it.”

Oh, you’re more than alright with it. It makes you fucking ecstatic.

You sigh. “…Sometimes I don’t know if I want to kiss you or kill you.”

He stills, and you immediately curse yourself internally. Good going, hotshot. You ruined the moment.

He blinks up at you. The two of you have never actually kissed each other. Sure, you’d had intimate moments like this, but your lips had never had the pleasure of meeting his. You were always too afraid of taking, and he was always too nervous to go too far with you.

The room is silent for a moment before he tilts his head. “No pressure.”

…

Fuck it, you think. It wouldn’t hurt to try, if he’s inviting you.

Whether he’s kidding or not, your gaze falls on his lips. You bring your free hand up, gently tracing his bottom lip. His lips are pretty and soft, as if he somehow had snuck in that little tin of salve in his pocket and carried it everywhere he went with you. Princely habits died hard.

He takes a breath, his gaze still locked on yours as the tip of your finger lightly brushes against the soft skin of his lower lip. Aaric’s hand comes up to gently catch your wrist, his thumb holding it there against his mouth. Waiting. 

Well, at least you know that he won’t reject you if you actually kiss him.

You stare at him evenly, your gaze fond and affectionate. What a darling he is — you don’t know why you haven’t done this sooner.

You ease both his and your hand away from his mouth and slowly - giving him the chance to pull back - brush your lips against his, hesitant but heartfelt at the same time. Nothing rushed, nothing too sensual…Just a sweet little peck on his (admittedly pretty) mouth.

His eyes flutter shut. He’s frozen in place again, but for an entirely different reason this time, as the touch of your mouth on his sets off a strange heat in his gut. It’s soft, sweet, just a warm little touch, but the second you pull away, his eyes slowly open again, his gaze hazy as he looks at you.

That little kiss was the best apology he’s ever received. And now he wants to return the favor so badly.

You pull away. You don’t really want to go much further than a couple of pecks or two — not now, not in a moment like this where emotions are raw and you feel so vulnerable still.

You look at him, still on his knees in front of you with your less-bloody knuckles in his hand.

“Apology accepted?” you prompt him.

Aaric’s mouth is buzzing a little, the rapid thud of his heartbeat louder than your words in his ears. His thumb gently brushes underneath your chin, the pad of his digit tracing just underneath your lower lip.

“What..?”

It takes another moment for him to process the words you said, and then he lets out a soft laugh, his gaze still locked on your face.

“Oh. Right. More than accepted.”

He goes quiet for a moment before he leans in again, his breath tickling your cheek.

“Can I have a turn in apologizing?” He asks like he isn’t staring directly at your mouth.

You smile fondly. “Yeah. Yeah, you can.”

[lorarri]

★ . . . 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐏 𝐁𝐅 , 𝐘𝐓𝟐𝟐

summary , it's yuki's birthday and his girlfriend just had to make every single person in the world feel even more single than normal

pairing , yuki tsunoda x fem! gf! bookworm! reader

main masterlist | f1 masterlist | yuki tsunoda masterlist

yourinstagram . 4hr ago

seen by landonorris pierregasly and 10,990,974 others

yourinstagram

liked by yukitsunoda0511 pierregasly 12,667,378 others

yourinstagram Dear yukitsunoda0511, happy birthday I can't believe that you have been mine for three years now. It feels like yesterday that we met at that bookstore in Paris, where you spilt your coffee all over my favourite hoodie. And now with confidence I can say with confidence that it was worth it, you make me feel peaceful and whole. I hope you get everything your heart desires today. And that includes me. Your girl, Y/N L/N.

親愛なるユキ、お誕生日おめでとう。あなたがもう 3 年も私のものだなんて信じられません。パリの本屋で会ったとき、あなたが私のお気に入りのパーカーにコーヒーをこぼしてしまったことが昨日のことのように感じられます。そして今、私は自信を持って、その価値があったと自信を持って言えます。あなたは私を平和で健全な気分にさせてくれます。今日、あなたが心から望むすべてを手に入れられることを願っています。そしてそれには私も含まれます。あなたの彼女、Y/N L/N。

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user yuki is the only driver who’s enjoying life to the fullest with his hot gf - eating all the good food traveling around the world love that for him

yukitsunoda0511 I'm sorry about hoodie I'll buy you a new one ⤷ yourinstagram a new hoodie? no. I want one of your's please 😊 ⤷ yukitsunoda0511 okay baby now come cuddle with me ⤷ yourinstagram on my way 🏃🏻‍♀️💨

user pov the second pic is your dream ⤷ user Y/N FR LIVING MY DREAM

user happy birthday short king

user they are both barbie neither of them are ken 😭😭😭

user "liked by pierre gasly" ⤷ yourinstagram lurking as always 🙄 ⤷ pierregasly got a problem? ⤷ yourinstagram yeah with your face ⤷ pierregasly wow what a creative insult what are you 5 ⤷ yourinstagram listen here fuck french fuck I would smoke you in a fight now shut the fuck up and eat a baggette ⤷ pierregasly your mean...go play monopoly ⤷ yourinstagram esteban is my fav french ⤷ pierregasly you have gone to far ⤷ estebanocon thank you Y/N 😊

user So pretty yuki 🔥🔥🔥

user STOP THEY ARE SO CUTE

user brb I'm gonna go sleep with me on the highway ⤷ user gonna go take a bath with my toaster ⤷ user I feel like having a nice big tall glass of bleech ⤷ user suddenly I wanna skydive without a parachute ⤷ user I'm gonna jump off a moving train ⤷ yourinstagram mom pick me up I'm scared 😭😭😭

user So beautiful 💓🤩

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yourinstagram . 2hr ago

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[onlybeeewrites]

Choose Me

Request: Heyyyyy….me again…can I request where the reader is crushing on aaric graycastle….like she's having a really really bad crush….the ending is upto you darling 😘…angsty or fluffy

Pairing: Aaric Greycastle x Fem!reader

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: mild mentioned violence, cursing, Aaric’s true identity

A/N: this was so much fun to write!! This is also my first time writing for Aaric so please have mercy <3

~~~~~~~

The forest around you was thick with trees, their branches creaking in the wind of the early afternoon. You tried to ignore the ache in your side as you pushed forward, each step bringing a dull throb from the injury you’d sustained earlier thanks to that asshole from third wing.

It wasn’t deep—just a shallow cut from a branch that had whipped past you—but it still stung, especially now with the adrenaline of the Threshing fading away. Now leaving you with a deep toothed fear and anxiety of either not being chosen, or being burnt to a crisp if you did stumble upon a dragon.

Rhiannon seemed to leave out the part of how terrifying this actually was. The waiting. The stumbling around blindly. How your mind can play tricks and your thoughts become your worst enemy.

Your thoughts, however, weren’t focused on the pain. They were on him. Aaric Graycastle. The person who had haunted your thoughts for months since you crossed parapet. The same guy who was in your squad. The same one you’ve been in class with. Training with. Spending every day with for the past three months with. The one who always seemed to appear at just the right moment with his sharp wit and quiet confidence.

The one who, despite your best efforts, had wormed his way into your heart without even fucking trying. You knew you were being foolish. It was stupid. Ridiculously stupid.

Your best friend and squadmate, Sloane had pushed you to confess your feelings so many times. Almost too many times but you always hesitated. The idea of exposing yourself, of showing Aaric the depth of your feelings, felt like too much.

What if it ruined things? What if it changed your bond forever? You were squadmates. These were the people who you could trust and depend your life on. So would it be worth the risk? A sharp hiss of pain pulls your back from your thoughts, the sound slipping from your lips as you shifted the weight on your injured side. You winced, trying to ignore it considering you had bigger problems to focus on—like dragons to find and bond with, if you were lucky.

Then, the unmistakable sound of a twig snapping behind you caught your attention. You spun around, your hand instinctively reaching for the sword at your side. Your hand trembled as you prepared to fight for your life again.

But it was only Aaric who stepped out from the shadows of the foliage. His beautiful eyes softened when he saw you, and the concern in his gaze made your heart skip a beat. “What happened to you?” His voice was gentle but firm, and before you could even respond, his gaze dropped to the side of your body, where the fresh cut marred your leathers.

“I’m fine,” you said, trying to brush him off, but your voice faltered. “It’s nothing. Just a scratch from a run in with someone. I’ll live,” you insist. You didn’t need him worrying about you. Not when they had bigger things to worry about. Considering even less dragons are bonding this year, the odds weren’t in their favor.

He was at your side in an instant, his hands hovering over your injury before he grabbed your arm, his grip firm but not harsh. His brow furrowed, eyes flashing with something that looked an awful lot like panic.

“Nothing? That’s a gash, not a scratch,” he snapped, his voice sharp with frustration. You winced as he pushed back the edge of your leathers, his touch more forceful than usual, but not unkind.

“It’s not bad,” you insisted, trying to downplay it, but Aaric shot you a glare so fierce it nearly made you flinch more than the pain.

“It’s never ‘not bad’ with you,” he muttered, his fingers working quickly as he assessed the wound. “You always act like you’re fine when you’re not.” The warmth in his voice, the sheer intensity of his concern, sent a strange flutter through your chest.

But before you could even process it, he shook his head and went back to tending your wound, muttering under his breath. You swallowed, the heat rising in your cheeks. “It’s not your fault,” you reassured him, softer this time, but he didn’t look convinced. His focus was locked on you, like nothing else in the world mattered in that moment.

Then, a rustling sound broke through the tension. A low, rumbling growl followed. Your heart stuttered. Aaric stiffened beside you, his hand instinctively reaching for his weapon.

And then from the shadows, the dragon emerged. The moment was interrupted by a sudden rustling, followed by a low growl. Your heart skipped a beat.

From the trees, a massive dragon emerged, its scales shimmering like molten emeralds in the filtered light. Its amber eyes fixed on you.

The dragon puffed out a huff of steam, hitting you from head to toe. Before you could respond, another dragon appeared, slightky larger but no less magnificent. Its sapphire blue scales gleamed in the sunlight as it landed beside Aaric. The two dragons locked eyes with each other before turning back to you and Aaric.

You didn’t know if it was the bond with the dragons or the moment that had shifted everything. And fear gripped you tightly with these two unfriendly powerful beats that could kill you both in seconds.

Before you could stop yourself, the words spilled out. “I’ve had a crush on you for months. I couldn’t tell you before, because I was afraid… I was afraid it would change things.”

Aaric froze, his eyes softening as the silence between you grew. He opened his mouth to say something, but the dragon beside him gave a low, rumbling growl, as if urging him on.

“I… feel the same,” he admitted quietly, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “I didn’t know how to say it either but I-“

Before you could utter another word, a low growl echoed through the air, a strange pull tugged at your chest. The hairs on your arms stood on end. Goosebumps rising on your skin.

And then, a voice, rich and velvety, echoed in your mind, “I have waited for you, sweet one.”

Your heart raced, the connection undeniable, the bond forming before you could blink. The dragon’s amber eyes fixed on you, and for a moment, everything else—Aaric, the injury, the chaos—faded away as the realization settled. Not only in your mind, but your heart.

A dragon chose you.

Now your focus was just you and the dragon, the one who had chosen you, the one who would stand by your side from this moment forward. The dragon dipped her head toward you, a soft rumble vibrating in her chest.

You blinked, unsure if the words you thought you heard were just in your head.

“I am Niranth. You are my chosen, my rider.” Your breath hitched as the voice echoed inside your mind, smooth and calm, but filled with a weight of ancient wisdom. Nirantha. The name rolled through your thoughts, both foreign and familiar.

“Nirantha?” you asked hesitantly, your voice unsure.

“Yes, sweet one,” Nirantha’s voice was warm, reverberating through your chest like a melody that soothed your racing heart. Her voice like a secure embrace. Firm, solid, but secure. “I have waited years for a rider like you. And now that time has come,”

A shiver ran down your spine at the words, at the rawness of the connection, but also at the comfort it gave. It was as though you had always known Nirantha, as though you had always been destined for each other, even before today.

You slowly reached out a trembling hand, your fingers brushing against her gleaming scales. The warmth of the dragon’s body seeped into your skin, and with it, an overwhelming sense of peace. A Comfort that you hadn’t known you were missing.

You leaned your forehead against the dragon’s side, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

“You are not alone anymore, sweet one,” Nirantha continued, his voice a gentle reassurance in your mind. “I will protect you, guide you, and fight for you as long as you fight for me,”

A tear slipped down your cheek, but it wasn’t from fear or pain. It was from the overwhelming relief, the sense that a part of you had finally found its home. You weren’t alone anymore.

You took a shaky breath and whispered softly, “Thank you, Nirantha. I don’t know what to say…”

“There is nothing to say, sweet one. Just trust me, as I trust you,” The bond solidified as the dragon leaned down, nuzzling you gently, her massive head lowering to your level. You laughed softly, a shaky sound of disbelief and joy.

And then, just as suddenly, everything faded back to her senses as Aaric stepped closer, his presence breaking the intimacy of the moment.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, looking between you and the dragon. His voice was rough, full of emotions you couldn’t quite read. “You… you’re bonded with her?” Aaric’s question was a whisper, full of awe and something else, something deeper.

His eyes lingered on you, and you saw something you hadn’t before—genuine worry and tenderness.

You nodded, unable to form words as Nirantha’s presence flooded your mind once again, grounding you. You smiled, your heart swelling with gratitude, before you turned to Aaric. “Yes. This is Nirantha.”

“Your mate seems to be pleased,” Nirantha’s voice said with amusement. Your face heated up, as your head snapped towards your newly bonded dragon. And you swear you could see the amusement in her golden eyes.

“What?! No. He’s not-“

“What you admitted beforehand says otherwise,” she mused and you swallowed as you realized it too. You both had confessed your feelings as the two dragons had approached you.

You slowly turned to Aaric, flushing as his gaze was already on your own. Something unreadable in his gaze. You opened and closed your mouth, for once, completely speechless.

But luckily you didn’t have to as he reached up, cupping the back of your neck and tugging you to him to press his full lips onto your own. Your eyes flutter shut as the butterflies erupt in your stomach. Your heart beating concerningly fast.

And you leaned into him, leaned into the kiss. Your arms moving around him and gripping onto his back. The warmth of his lips, his mouth on yours. You realized that you wish you could be there forever. Wrapped in his arms, his mouth on you or your skin forever.

“I rather like this Prince than the other one,” Nirantha’s voice muses fondly and with a bit of amusement.

But that caused you to freeze and pull back from his lips. Your chest rose and fell with breathlessness, your mind suddenly rather foggy and muddled.

Aaric pulled back with a smirk on his beautiful face. “What?” He asked, tilting his head, “I didn’t think I was that good of a kisser to make you pull back,” he said before lowering his head to steal another one.

But you stopped him, placing a hand firmly on his chest. Your heart pounded in your ears, your gaze trailing over him once more—closer now, as if seeing him for the first time.

The way his features fit together so perfectly, the sandy hair that framed his face, but most of all, the piercing green eyes, the eyes you’d adored for months Royal eyes.

You sucked in a breath, realization hitting you like a ton of bricks. “You’re Prince Camlaen…” you breathed out, the words escaping your lips before you could stop them.

As you spoke, Aaric’s expression shifted instantly. His smirk faltered, and there was a flash of defensiveness in his eyes. He stepped back slightly, his posture rigid for the first time since you’d met.

The playfulness from before disappeared, replaced by a flicker of tension in his jaw. And he stared at you. For a long moment. You could see the gears turning in his head as if he was debating something back and forth. And finally he spoke.

“I’m still Aaric,” he said, his voice a bit sharper now, though there was still a trace of softness beneath it, but not denying your claim.

“I’m not some prince in a castle. I’m a rider, just like you. I’m still me. That’s who I am.” He crossed his arms over his chest, a protective stance, his eyes now narrowing slightly as if bracing for your judgment. The weight of his words hung in the air, but there was a quiet intensity to them.

He didn’t want to be seen as anything other than the person you had come to know—the man who had fought beside you, the one who had been there when you needed him, the one who had dreamed of you. Fought every urge to get a taste of you. To be the same guy you smiled at so sweetly.

You stood still, heart pounding in your chest, but as you looked into his eyes, you could see the vulnerability buried beneath his defensiveness. The prince title may have been his birthright, but Aaric—the man in front of you—was still the same person you had cared for all this time.

Taking a steadying breath, you placed your hand gently on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. “I know who you are,” you said softly, your voice calm but unwavering.

“Aaric, you’re still the same person I’ve been falling for all this time. Nothing changes that. And if you tell me this is who you are—who you want to be? That’s all I need…” Aaric’s posture seemed to relax slightly at your words, his shoulders softening as his gaze met yours.

He let out a breath he seemed to have been holding, the defensiveness fading slowly, replaced by something far more tender. “Good,” he murmured, his voice low and sincere.

And with that, he smiled—a real smile, one that reached his eyes. And as his lips brushed against yours once more.

[vintagestarlight]

High Stakes

Pairing: Aaric Graycastle x reader

Summary: You are the unfortunate target of a bet between Aaric and Ridoc

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.5k

Author's Note: My first ever Fourth Wing fic!! Not sure how I feel about this one but I hope I captured Aaric's personality well :)

Thank you to everyone who voted in the poll! This is my first time writing in forever so this may not be my best work lol but I already have some work done on a few more fics so stay tuned! If you have anything you want to see with the Fourth Wing characters don't hesitate to send in a request💞

***As always beware of typos and comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated!***

The mess hall buzzed with the usual chatter, clinking dishes, and boisterous laughter. Aaric sat across from Ridoc, who was looking particularly frustrated. Ridoc slouched, absentmindedly pushing his food around on his plate and sighing. "What's the matter with you?" Aaric asked, glancing up from his own plate and trying to decide whether or not he actually cared. Ridoc sighed dramatically, dropping his fork with a clink. "I had this one rider practically in the palm of my hand. She was cute as hell too. But she rejected me! Me!" Ridoc exclaimed. "Can you believe that?" Ridoc placed his elbow in the table and rested his chin on his hand. "I don't really know what to say...I've never been turned down," Aaric continued to eat his food, deciding he actually wasn't that interested in Ridoc being unable to have some unfortunate girl spend the night in his bed. Ridoc picked up his head and peered at Aaric. "Really?" He asked, with a mixture of disbelief and genuine curiosity. "You've never been turned down? How the hell do you manage that?"

Aaric replied, "I guess I just know how the game works," he said, a small smirk appearing briefly on his face. Ridoc scoffed, unimpressed. "I have game okay? And you're telling me you could hook up with any rider in here if you wanted to?" He continued. "If I wanted," Aaric said in a bored tone. Ridoc leaned forward on his elbows, his eyes narrowing with a competitive glint. "Prove it then," he said. Aaric raised an eyebrow, amusement starting to dance in his eyes. "Like a challenge?"

Ridoc smirked. "Yeah. You think you can walk up to any rider, charm them, and convince them to come to your room tonight? Prove it. If you win, I'll do your morning drills for a week no questions asked. But if you lose, you have to admit your game is weak and I'll make sure everyone knows it," Ridoc proposed. Aaric stared at Ridoc for a moment, considering his challenge. "Fine," Aaric finally said, his signature smirk on full display. "So who's it going to be? Pick someone with a backbone not one of your usual targets," Ridoc clarified. Aaric scanned the room, trying to pick the perfect rider to win the bet.

His eyes landed on you, sitting in a corner with a book in your lap clearly not interested in impressing anyone. He had seen you around before carrying yourself with a no-nonsense kind of confidence. He had been wanting to ask you out for weeks. "That one," he said, gesturing to where you sat alone. "Her? She's not impressed by anyone. She turns down anyone who's tried to get with her," Ridoc explained. "That's exactly why I'm picking her. No one else will be as satisfying to impress," Aaric pushed his plate away and got up from the table. "Fine. But you can't just pull all the cocky shit you usually do. She has to be genuinely impressed. If she comes to your room tonight, you win," replied Ridoc. "Enjoy your last few days of sleep Gamlyn," Aaric threw over his shoulder as he smoothed down his sleeves with practiced ease and adopted that casual confidence he was so good at.

Aaric sauntered over to where you sat, enjoying your book. "Mind if I join?" A voice asked you. You didn't respond immediately and instead looked up from your book to see Aaric Graycastle standing next to you, flashing you a smile. "I guess," you nodded. "But I'm not really one for small talk," you continued, returning your attention to the book in front of you. Aaric slid into the empty space on the bench next to you. "That's okay I don't enjoy small talk either," He leaned in closer, looking intently at you. "I'm Aaric by the way," his voice was lower and softer. "You didn't have to sit so close there's plenty of space," you remarked, noticing his thighs practically up against yours. Was it horrible you didn't actually mind? "And I know who you are Graycastle. We have classes together and our squads spar each other," you replied, flipping the page in your book. "Have you been watching me?" He teased. "You know, this is starting to feel like small talk," you said dryly. "Oh come on," he said, scooting even closer if that was even possible. "I've been wanting to talk with you for a while now... you're different," he went on. "Really that's all you've got Graycastle? I'm different?" You shook your head. "Not your best opener,"

Aaric merely chuckled, not allowing himself to be discouraged. Even he had to admit that wasn't his best. "Okay fair enough let me try again," he said. "I like how you value your independence, how you don't get caught up in the drama here. That's pretty rare especially for a school like this," Your gaze shifted slightly, curiosity creeping in. "Do you still think you can actually impress me?" You asked, closing your book. His grin grew impossibly wide. "I'm just getting started honey,"

Time passed and Aaric threw everything he had at you. His witty remarks, usual charm, and effortless confidence; but nothing seemed to work. You didn't seem to be interested in the usual ways that allowed him to charm girls into his bed. You simply sat there, barely listening to him, practically bored with his attempts. This is was so much harder than he had expected. He chanced a glance at Ridoc, who sat there watching the exchange with a smug smile on his face. "Listen, not that I haven't enjoyed our little conversation," you started sarcastically. "But I have to go," you started to stand up to make a hasty exit but Aaric grabbed your arm. There's no way he could let Ridoc win. "Okay wait," he begged. "Why?" You asked, but you sat back down and he loosened his grip on your arm but didn't let go. "The truth is my friend and I have a bet; I bet I could get you to come to my room tonight and if you came by I won," he confessed. "I really like you and the bet was an excuse to come talk to you," he went on.

You were silent for a moment and Aaric wondered briefly if he just made the biggest ass out of himself. "What do you get if you win?" You asked finally. "My friend does my morning drills for a week," replied Aaric. A small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. "And if you lost?" "I have to admit my game isn't as good as I claim it is and Gamyln makes sure everyone else knows it," he said, a little hesitant. "If you liked me so much, why did it have to take a bet for you to come talk to me?" You had to admit you were curious. "Because....you always seemed so uninterested and you turned down everyone who tried asking you out. I just didn't want to be shot down like the rest," he explained. "I didn't think Aaric Graycastle was scared of talking to any girl," you said, an authentic smile blooming on your face. "Just you," he confessed in a soft voice. Your expression changed and you gazed at him.

You had a small crush on him since you first saw him in Battle Brief but you knew he was with a new girl every week so you didn't bother entertaining those feelings; despite the fact they continued to grow. Could he be serious about liking you? "Alright Graycastle," you told him. "Alright?" He asked in a confused tone. "I'll come to your room. But I'm only coming so you can win the bet nothing else," you made a point. Aaric smiled at you but it was different this time; it wasn't his cocky grin he put on all the time it was a genuine smile and it made your stomach flip. "Really?" He asked. You nodded before standing up. "But next time, don't talk to me because of some silly bet," You said with a small smile. "Next time?" He questioned. Were you really going to give him a next time? He wondered. "Just talk to me," you told him before picking your book up and walking away.

"Goodnight Aaric," you said, reaching for his doorknob. Aaric felt felt a sense of a disappointment that you were leaving. The two of you had talked for hours and he enjoyed getting to know you. "Maybe I should adjust my shirt or something," you paused before opening the door. "Make it believable," you went on. "Maybe," he said opening the door for you and standing so close you could smell the mint on his breath mixed with his cologne. It made you want to bury your face in his neck. "But this might work a little better," he murmured, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear. He leaned close, pausing only to look at you, making sure you weren't uncomfortable. You nodded, letting him know it was okay. He placed his lips over yours, one of his hands squeezing your waist. "Goodnight y/n," he whispered after pulling apart. You gave him a smile and turned to leave. Aaric watched you turn the corner and his eyes found Ridoc's, who was at the end of the hallway, gaping at him. Aaric smirked and closed his door, already looking forward to talking to you again.

[lowytavis]

bodhi deserves love & happiness

xaden deserves love & happiness

ridoc deserves love & happiness

sawyer deserves love & happiness

aaric deserves love & happiness

imogen deserves love & happiness

violet deserves love & happiness

garrick deserve love & happiness

sloane deserves love & happiness

rhiannon deserves love & happiness

even dain and cat deserve love & happiness

and i fucking hope they all get happy and all lovey dovey at the end of the book series or ill be going mad

[saintsanddevils]

Never Alone

Aaric Graycastle x Fem!Reader

Summary: After parapet, Aaric discovers his best friend followed him to Basgiath. (set during Iron Flame, no Onyx Storm spoilers)

Warnings: angst, swearing, Aaric POV

Author’s Note: onyx storm made me write fanfic & there isn’t enough Aaric fic out there

Posted on AO3

Part Two

Masterlist

————

-Conscription Day-

Oh, shit.

Aaric’s eyes widen as he watches the last person he’d ever expect to see at Basgiath storm across the courtyard.

No. Please, Zihnal, let it be anyone but her.

A prayer to the god of luck feels like a waste as he senses his imminent doom the closer she gets. Waves of rage seep off her like a tidal wave, forcing cadets to dive quickly out of her way.

Aaric tries to blink the image away, hoping this isn’t real. Maybe the exhaustion of climbing those never-ending stairs and crossing the parapet did something to his mind. This has to be a hallucination.

“You fucking idiot!” She’s suddenly before him, shoving him hard against the stone column. He barely registers the impact as he stares down at her, feeling her erratic breathing against his chest. He’s so focused on how she’s standing in front of him that he misses her hand sailing towards his face before it’s too late. The immediate, harsh slap swings his head to the side.

“I’m going to kill you,” she seethes.

Yep. This is real. And that is definitely who he thinks it is.

Working his jaw as the sting reverberates across his skin, he turns back to face her.

Y/N. She’s here. She’s actually here. By the looks of it, she made it across the parapet. Which means…

Aaric would’ve laughed if he didn’t feel the sudden weight of dread crushing him as he stares at her. “What the hell are you doing here?”

If he thought he knew what Y/N was like when she was angry, it’s nothing compared to the fury rising in her eyes.

“Are you kidding me?! What am I doing here?” She shakes her head, gripping his leathers as she crowds closer. “You’re an arrogant asshole if you thought you could disappear so easily. If you think, for one damn second, that I would let you do this alone, Cam-“

Aaric quickly slides his hand over her mouth to stop her. Noticing the crowd around them, he rushes to pull her away from prying eyes. With one hand around her mouth and the other arm around her waist, he pulls her behind the column. She begins to yell at him from beneath his hand before bucking and kicking as he makes his way down the corridor. Aaric curses as he holds her tighter against his chest. This is starting to look way worse than he hoped it would as he drags her away from the courtyard.

When he finds a secluded alcove away from everyone, teeth sink into the skin of his palm.

“Fuck!” He pulls his hand away with a hiss, stepping back as she twists out of his reach. “You bit me!”

“You were practically kidnapping me!”

Aaric rolls his eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”

She raises an offending brow. “I’m dramatic? Says the prince who just up and left in the middle of the night to fulfill some childish fantasy that he can go get himself a dragon and some fancy magic to save the kingdom. Really?”

He stiffens. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She laughs, cold and bitter. “Don’t I? I’m pretty sure I know you better than anyone. Hell, maybe even better than yourself.” She shakes her head, crossing her arms. “Your father is going try and find you. He’ll send everyone, tear this place apart-“

“No. He won’t.” His jaw flexes as he glances around, ensuring no one can hear them. “He might try, but it won’t matter. He can’t do anything. Especially after threshing.”

Her face blanches at the words. “Threshing… Oh gods, Cam.” She falls back against the wall, her earlier anger slowly dissipating. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

A wave of voices rises from around the corner, making Aaric step closer to her. Once they drift further away, he relaxes. Blowing out the breath he held, he stares into the eyes of the one person on this damn continent that he can trust. The one person he would never ask to join him. The one person he chose to lie to, to manipulate and betray in order to do what was necessary.

“I have to do this.”

The confession weighs heavily in his sternum. Solidifying his rattled nerves. The guilt he’s collected over the years still eats away at him, but now, without a shadow of a doubt, he knows this is what he’s meant to do. The second he stepped onto the stone parapet, he knew he had to be here. Cowering in the palace wouldn’t do anything. Being here, training, fighting, working to help their kingdom- it’s all he can do.

Her eyes soften from his words as if she can hear his thoughts. Understanding his worries and doubts, as she always has. The two of them grew up alongside one another. Her father is a trusted advisor to the throne, allowing him the privilege to have his family join him at the palace. Aaric has known her for as long as he can remember. And just like when they were kids running around the palace gardens, he’d do anything for her. Except for stay as far away from Basgiath as possible.

Of course she knew he’d come here. She wasn’t lying when she said she knew him better than anyone. It’s something he now wished wasn’t true. Her being here was proof of it. By the looks of her fighting leathers that outlined the dips and curves of her figure, she planned on this.

His chest warms at the thought, but he tries to push down the overwhelming need to touch her. He’s suddenly all-too-aware of how close they’re standing. How much his fingers itch to reach out and hold her. To hide her from all of this and keep her safe.

The thought of her following him down this path scares him more than his father finding him.

“Go home,” he quickly steps away. The longer he stands near her, the more she’ll convince him he’s making a mistake. He can’t let that happen.

The softening of her features is gone. The sympathy she was feeling is now replaced with that earlier anger. She clenches her jaw as she stands straight, glaring up at him.

“I’m staying. I crossed the parapet. I deserve to be here just as much as you do.”

Aaric shakes his head. “You can’t-“

“I can and I am.” She steps into his personal space again, and for a moment, he wonders if she’ll slap him again. A strange, small part of him wants her to. He shuts that thought down immediately.

“If you want to go be some sort savior of Navarre for your ridiculous hero complex, fine. You’re a grown man. You can do whatever you want. Especially as the prince,” she narrows her eyes. “But I’ll be damn sure if you’re gonna try to play the hero, I’m gonna make sure you don’t kill yourself doing it. Someone has to.”

He flinches. She must’ve caught the reaction since her face softens, as well as her tone.

“I’d never let you go through this alone, Cam. You know that.”

Flashes of whispered promises under a rose trellis as they pricked the skin of their palms come to the forefront of his mind. Their blood welled in their tiny hands as they made vows to one another. To always have each other’s back. To always be there for each other, no matter the cost.

The scar on his palm burns as he watches her storm past him, determination setting her shoulders straight. Gods, he wish he didn’t know her as well as he did.

The crowd of new cadets cheer in the distance, the hum of their voices growing louder as Conscription Day comes to a close. The shadows on the wall move in the afternoon light as he watches the one person he cares about more than anything walk away from him.

That guilt stings in his gut now, adding another person to the list of people he has to protect. If she’s here, he can’t make this all about his kingdom. He can’t even make this about himself. He has to ensure she stays alive. They both have to get through this.

There’s no turning back now.

Part Two

[partoffantasy]

Echoes of the Inevitable - Aaric Graycastle / Cam Tauri

⸻ image credits to artbycassmira & etherealbookart ⸻

summary: during tense negotiations on the Isles, reader witnesses a side of Aaric she never expected—commanding, brilliant, and dangerously compelling.

pairing: aaric graycastle x fem!reader warnings: ONYX STORM SPOILERS - if you haven’t read Onyx Storm yet, don’t read further word count: 1.6k

⸻⸻⸻✦ ♡ ✦⸻⸻⸻

The heat of the Isles pressed down on them, thick and stifling despite the breeze coming from the sea. The scent of salt and damp stone filled the air, mingling with the faintest trace of incense from the nearby marketplace. The sun hung low, casting long shadows over the cracked stone plaza where the delegation stood. Soldiers lined the perimeter, their armor gleaming dully under the fading light, their hands resting on the hilts of their weapons. The atmosphere was laced with barely restrained hostility, the kind that could tip into violence really quickly.

Y/N shifted her weight, resisting the urge to wipe the sweat from her brow. She was keenly aware of the weight of her own weapons, the tension in the air settling into her bones. Xaden stood at the head of their group, his posture unyielding and full of dominance as he faced the Unbrish commander. Beside him, Violet held herself steady, her eyes flicking between the foreign dignitaries. Dain lingered a step behind, his focus entirely on the unfolding discussion, ready to translate at a moment’s notice.

The commander lifted his hand, and his soldiers immediately fell silent, waiting for his words. "He asks if this is our champion or our leader," Dain translated. A ripple of unease passed through the squad, but before anyone could react, a voice cut through the tension—smooth, confident, and unmistakably fluent. Not in Navarrian. Not in any broken attempt at the language. But in flawless, fluid Unbrish.

Y/N barely caught the way Dain stiffened beside her, his mouth parting in shock. She could only stare, heat creeping up her neck, her stomach twisting with something entirely inappropriate for the situation. It was Aaric. The moment he stepped forward, every ounce of his usual quiet reservation peeled away, revealing something sharper. He moved with a confidence that sent a thrill through her, his broad shoulders squared as he addressed the commander directly. And then, he spoke.

Aaric’s voice was smooth, assured. It carried through the tense plaza like a blade slicing through silk. The words were foreign to her, but that didn’t matter—because she could hear it in his tone. The weight. The meaning. The command. His accent was perfect, his cadence even, and the effect it had on their adversaries was instantaneous. The commander faltered, his expression shifting, while the priestess beside him flicked her gaze toward Aaric with something close to surprise.

Y/N’s throat went dry. By the time Dain regained his composure enough to translate, Aaric was already pivoting back toward them, his hand brushing the pommel of his sword. “Are you fucking serious?” Dain snaps at him. “Why didn’t you tell us you’re fluent?” "You never asked," Aaric said simply, his voice rich with amusement, and Y/N swore she felt it in the pit of her stomach.

Holy shit. This was not the Aaric she sparred with in training, the one who rolled his eyes at pointless drills and carried himself like he was just another first-year. This was someone else entirely. Someone who spoke like he belonged on a throne. Someone who was utterly, unfairly, devastatingly attractive when he wielded language like a weapon.

She pressed her lips together, fighting the urge to shift on her feet. It wasn’t the time. It wasn’t the place. But when Xaden surged forward, grabbing Aaric by the collar to shove him back into place, all she could focus on was the flicker of defiance in Aaric’s green eyes. Y/N exhaled, barely resisting the urge to groan. Oh, she was in so much trouble.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

The second time it happened, they were at the negotiation table in Hedontis, having just met Xaden’s mother, and Y/N swore Aaric was doing it on purpose. She had spent the better part of an hour trying to focus on the discussion, on the careful exchange of words between Xaden, the Isles’ leadership, and their allies. It was a delicate discussion, one she knew could turn dangerous if handled incorrectly. But then Aaric opened his mouth again, and all hope of concentration vanished.

"It is rather arrogant of us to simply refer to it as the Continent," he mused, his voice like velvet-wrapped steel. "As though there aren’t others beyond the sea. But we've been torn apart by war for so long, it's hard for anyone to think that we are one... anything." Y/N nearly choked on her drink. The table fell silent, all eyes snapping to him. Even Xaden looked mildly impressed. But Aaric? Aaric just continued cutting into his meal with calm indifference, as if he hadn’t just upended the entire tone of the conversation.

Nairi’s gaze flickered from Cat to Xaden to Aaric. "So many young royals here. So many potential alliances. Why are you not contracted to one another? It seems... foolish not to forge futures and provide heirs who could unite your kingdoms." The chicken went dry in Y/N’s mouth, but Mira shot her a can you believe these people look that steadied her heartbeat.

"My brother will be king," Aaric said, slicing through his chicken like this was any normal dinner. "Though a horrible one. Heirs and alliances aren't my concern. I will fight in this war, most likely die, and do so knowing that I protected others." Aaric's gaze flickered across the table, his usual air of detached confidence wavering for just a second. Then, his eyes found hers.

Y/N felt the shift—a sudden weight pressing down on her chest. His stare held something she couldn't decipher, something raw and knowing. It wasn’t just resolve or the grim acceptance of war. It was grief. It was finality. And it was personal. She swallowed, her pulse hammering against her throat. Why was he looking at her like that? Like he already knew something she didn't? Like he was memorizing her?

Before she could force her mouth to form a single question, Aaric turned away, his expression smoothing back into that infuriating, unreadable calm. "Honor has never been the equal of wisdom," Nairi sighed, then looked to Xaden. "And your excuse? We received news months ago that your title had been restored to you." When Xaden started answering Nairi, Y/N barely heard the next words. Aaric's gaze had lingered on hers, and the depth of emotion in his eyes sent a shiver down her spine. There was something there—something heavy, something she couldn't decipher. He knew something, she was sure of it. But before she could press him, before she could demand an answer, the Hedontis’ changed the topic to what they value most—knowledge and thus drawing her attention away.

“Amaralys. The only thing our kingdoms ever agreed on was calling it the Continent after the Great War," Aaric said, finally putting his silverware down after cleaning his plate. "Rather arrogant of us to simply refer to it as the Continent, as though there aren't others beyond the sea, but we've been torn apart by war for so long it's hard for anyone to think that we are one... anything." For fuck's sake, what else was Aaric holding on to?

"You're rather quiet for someone who seems to know so much," Nairi remarked. "I prefer keeping my mouth shut until I understand the rules of whatever game is aiming for my throat. Helps me judge the character and acumen of my opponent." He looked at each of them in turn. "Honestly, I find you lacking, and I'm not sure I want you for an ally. You have no army and you're stingy with the very thing that should be free to all—knowledge."

"And yet you seek our favor?" Nairi’s eyebrows shot up, and she blinked rapidly. "Me?" Aaric shook his head. "No. I'm just here because Halden can't control his temper and Violet didn't just bond one of our most terrifying battle dragons, but also an irid—the seventh breed. Dark wielders are spreading. People are dying as we sit here. Every day we're gone could change the battle map in ways we can't begin to predict. And my kingdom is full of assholes who won't take refugees under king's orders, so tracking down the irids is our best hope of not only adding to our numbers but maybe figuring out how we beat the venin six hundred years ago.”

Holy shit, this was something else entirely. The way he stood his ground, unwavering, his voice a lethal mix of precision and raw conviction—it sent a thrill down her spine. Every word that left his mouth was deliberate, measured, and she could feel the weight of them settle deep in her chest. This wasn’t just confidence; it was command. And damn it, it was making her smirk. She couldn't help the way her eyes traced the sharp angles of his face, the way his fingers rested with deceptive ease on the table as if he hadn't just unsettled everyone around him. Every word he spoke sent another shiver down her spine, curling low in her stomach. It was dangerous, the way he did this to her—how effortlessly he held his own against people who had spent their entire lives navigating power plays.

"You are the highest member of nobility in your party," Roslyn noted, shifting. "Is it not up to you?" "Nobility doesn't play into rank, at least not for me." Aaric glanced Y/N’s way. "Andarna chose Violet, and though there are four superiorly ranked officers with us, it's Violet's mission. She's in command. And with the exception of her rather questionable taste in men, I've trusted Violet's wisdom since childhood." Their eyes met, and Y/N felt another rush of heat spread through her.

She was so, so screwed.

[callsign-rogueone]

a fair trade

aaric graycastle / cam tauri x reader (sunny!!!!) words: 1.2k 🏷: progressing through the beginning of IF! this one has a lot of transitions and jumps between scenes, which is my least favorite thing ever, and a major reason why it took so long, but I wanted to show these two interacting every day and slowly becoming friends, so here ya go! the next chapter will be so much better and much longer, I promise 🥺

It’s incredibly strange to be standing in this corner of the gym again, in the same spot where Nadine had died, and Violet nearly had too, avenging her. You’d never seen that much blood before in your life – but now it’s gone without a trace. Had someone knelt there last night and scrubbed it away, or had it been erased with magic? Which option is worse? 

Aaric appears at your side, speaking softly so as not to startle you. “You’re fast, and you’re smart, but at some point you’re going to have to throw some punches,” he prods. 

That’s fair. You’re the only one of the group who hadn’t made any offensive moves in your assessment match, and the last to find a partner to fight with today. 

“Yeah,” you say after a moment. “I’ve been dreading that part, honestly.”

“Let’s see what you’ve got. Just a basic stance, first.”

You nod, settling into a position that looks something like what you’d seen Imogen do earlier — she’s probably a good bet to copy.

He shakes his head. “Your feet need to be farther apart. And if you tuck your thumb in like that, you’re going to break it. Here.”

He steps forward and adjusts your fist — not missing your inhale of discomfort as his thumb presses against the swollen joint of your ring finger. He pulls back immediately, offering an apology and adjusting the technique. “Sorry. You should be fine to just keep it loose like that, as long as you adjust the impact point — what part of your fist is going to hit your target."

Another nod.

"If you just do... this," he explains, carefully reaching out to rotate your wrist to the side, careful not to put any pressure on the bandage there, "then you can make an impact with your pointer and middle finger. It won't be as effective, but it'll work until your hand heals."

Realistically, it won't — it hasn't shown much improvement since March, and the burn doesn’t help things either — but he doesn't need to know that.

"Don't worry about it too much," he offers, sensing your apprehension. "You’ve got more strength in your legs, anyway.” 

———

Being assigned breakfast duty means fewer hours of sleep, but you’re used to being up this early, anyway – you’d be going to bed at this hour, if you’d stayed in Calldyr City, just dragging yourself into the bathing chambers to hose off the sticky feeling of the ale you’d been serving, and the unwanted attention you’d been paid.

Someone is waiting for you outside the girls’ dorms; Aaric. He looks a little shy, shifting his weight awkwardly as he speaks – at a whisper, considerate of those who have been afforded the precious extra time to rest. “I saw you got breakfast duty, too, so…”

You give him a warm smile. “Glad to have a familiar face around. Do you have any idea where we’re going?”

It’s evident that he hadn’t thought this part through. “No, actually. But it can’t be far from the mess hall, right?”

You just hum in reply, nodding down the hallway. “Good place to start.”

He’s right – there’s a little door you hadn’t noticed by the serving line, propped open for you. You can already smell the bread baking, hear the pleasant bustle of a fully staffed kitchen. Not too different from home.

....

You turn to grab another potato, your eyes catching on the one Aaric is holding -- it's mangled, cut in odd places, yet somehow still holding onto half of its skin despite him having hacked at it for a good two minutes.

So there is one thing Aaric Graycastle doesn't excel at, after all -- one thing you could help him with. But you’ve never been the type to offer unsolicited advice.

Aaric is nice, though, and he’d given you so much advice on fighting, so he probably won’t be offended if you return the favor. It's a fair trade, or close to it. Still, you choose your words carefully. “Have you ever peeled a potato before?”

“Once,” he answers, a slight blush on his cheeks. 

You cross over to his side of the table, grabbing one yourself along with a short knife. “You’re digging in too hard, and taking the meat along with it. You need to hold it more flat, and scrape, to take off just the skin. Like that,” you say with a smile, finishing yours and adding it to the bowl.

“How are you so good at this?”

“Years of practice,” you answer. “My best friend is — was —  a kitchen maid. I used to sneak downstairs to help her sometimes.”

“For once you’re done with those,” the cook announces, dropping a crate onto the end of the table with a thud. “Cored and quartered.”

“Whoa.”

“That is a lot of strawberries,” he agrees.

“It must have cost a fortune.”

His head tilts. There had always been strawberries, and a variety of other fruit laid out for every breakfast, more than they’d ever eat, but he’d never considered the cost, or what became of the leftovers. 

Thankfully you continue the conversation for him, a fondness in your eyes. “We bought a whole pound of them for my birthday once. We were going to try to make them last, but they were gone by dinnertime.”

He just offers you a smile and a soft laugh, returning his attention to the vegetables.

———

“I am a god among men,” Ridoc announces, grinning from ear to ear from where he kneels over Sawyer, the executive officer pinned underneath him in what looks like a very uncomfortable position.

“Yeah, and I’m the next queen of Navarre,” you quip over your shoulder. “Saying it doesn’t make it true.”

Aaric’s heart nearly stops. He can’t help but imagine you dressed in the fine silks of the royal court, bejeweled and shining, crowned in gold, seated beside him and Halden at his father’s dinner table — a beautiful but miserable existence.

This is better. This feels right, seeing you in the sleek black of the rider’s quadrant instead of yards of stiff brocade, being able to hear you laugh and joke like this rather than sitting quietly for the rest of your days like an ornamental vase.

Your boot connecting with his stomach and his back hitting the floor snap him out of his daydream, and knock the breath from his lungs.

Your eyes widen as you realize what you’ve done. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he wheezes, cheeks reddening as he takes your outstretched hands and lets you haul him to his feet — it takes a considerable amount of strength. “That was good.”

You can’t help but smile a little about your small victory, the only time you’ve bested anyone in combat, though you know he was definitely going easy on you. “Maybe one of these days, I’ll really win,” you laugh. 

He sounds considerably less winded as he speaks again. “We’ll get you there.”

You blink at the words he chose – not you’ll get there, but we. He’s invested in your success. That’s the squad mentality, you suppose. It’s odd, but not unpleasant. 

———

“I didn’t even know I had muscles in some of these places,” you groan, folding your arms on the table and resting your head on them. 

Visia pats your shoulder gently. “That’s good – it means they’re growing.”

Your response is muffled, but universally understood by the rest of the group, who are all similarly exhausted after a full week of Rhiannon’s extra training sessions. 

All except Aaric. “Eat,” he encourages. “It’ll help.”

[fourth-wing-stories]

Lazy morning

Pairing: Aaric x reader

Summary: For once you and Aaric have time to sleep in

Masterlist

The early morning light filters softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. You’re nestled comfortably in bed, your head resting against Aaric’s chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing. The world outside Aretia seems to stand still, offering a rare, perfect stillness.

Aaric stirs beside you, his arm pulling you closer. “Morning,” he murmurs, his voice thick with sleep as he presses a lazy kiss to the top of your head.

“Morning,” you reply quietly, not wanting to break the peaceful atmosphere. You smile against his skin, enjoying the simple warmth of being in his arms. There's no rush, no pressing duties—just the two of you, wrapped up in the comfort of each other.

Aaric lets out a contented sigh, his fingers lazily tracing patterns along your back. “We don’t have to get up, right?” he asks, voice playful but drowsy, as if he’s testing the limits of how long you can stay wrapped up in bed.

“Not unless you want to,” you tease, nuzzling closer.

“I think I’m fine right here,” he replies, pressing another kiss to your temple. His hand slides gently over your side, settling at your waist, and you feel his touch lingering a little longer, a little more intentional.

You glance up at him, catching the glint of amusement in his sleepy gaze. “What?” you ask, even though you already know.

He chuckles softly, leaning in so his lips are just a breath away from yours. “You know exactly what,” he murmurs before closing the distance, his lips brushing against yours in a slow, teasing kiss.

You respond in kind, your hands finding their way into his messy hair as you pull him closer. The kiss deepens, his fingers grip your waist a little tighter, pulling you on top of him, your bodies pressing together beneath the soft blankets.

Aaric’s lips leave yours, trailing down your jaw to your neck, sending shivers down your spine. “We really don’t have to leave today,” he whispers between kisses, his voice filled with that familiar playfulness, but there’s a heat beneath it now—a desire that matches your own.

“Good,” you manage to say, your breath catching as his hands slide beneath your shirt, his fingers brushing against your bare skin. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”