#xaden fourth wing x reader

[danikamariewrites]

Hi I hope it’s ok if i request this you really don’t have to do it. But a Xaden riorson fluff and angst where the reader gets really hurt but they are trying to help people so she hides it from Xaden and when he finds out he’s really mad at her but he’s really just scared of losing her and hates seeing her hurt with a happy ending. I hope this is ok and there is no pressure to do this I completely understand if you don’t want to.

My Greatest Fear

Xaden Riorson x reader

Note: I haven’t written for Xaden in so long, I’ve missed him. I’m so ready for Onyx Storm and I kind of want to do something to celebrate. Should I do a countdown with fics for each FW boy for the week leading up to the books release? I hope you like this fic anon and thanks for requesting :)

Warnings: mentions of blood, injuries, and stitches

More than anything you want to sneak away from the crowded hall. To blend in with the shadows of Riorson House and limp away to your bedroom. Clutching your side you skillfully dodge riders, healers, and everyone in between.

“Y/n! Can you assist over here?” Violet calls to you, her arms full of bandages. You meet her pleading gaze, putting on a generous smile and nodding as you make your way over to her. The slash on your ribs can wait. Others with worse injuries need help.

Pulling the laces of your vest tighter with shaking hands you take the bandages from Violet to help distribute them. “Thank you,” Violet breathes out. She rushes off to take another box from Liam, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

A small sigh escapes your lips at the sight, making you wonder where your own boyfriend is. Xaden wasn’t among the injured, not that he would ever let himself be seen like that thanks to the Colonel’s words in the last Assembly meeting. But this wyvern attack has been the worst one yet. Healers are still bringing people in and you don’t want to thank the gods until you lay eyes on an unharmed Xaden.

————

After an hour you were exhausted and light headed. The more you felt the cut on your side dripping blood the tighter you pulled your vest, hoping to keep your skin together. Slumping on the ground you rest for a moment.

Taking deep breathes you try to focus on the chaos around you, tuning out the pain.

Opening your eyes you see Liam staring down at you, a worried look on his face. “Hey,” he says softly. “Xaden is back and asking for you.” Your heart picks up at the mention of your boyfriend.

“Is he ok?” Liam smiles at you. “Of course he is. He’s Xaden.”

You chuckle, “Don’t let him hear you say that. It’ll go right to his head, it’s already big enough.”

Liam holds his hand out to help you. You brush him off, using the wall to help you stand. Liam eyes you as you take a shaky breath. Pulling yourself together you do your best not to limp toward Xaden. You can feel Liam’s gaze burning on the back of your head at your slow movements.

Whipping around — as slowly as possible — you scowl at him. “Stop it. Are you coming or not?” You snarl. Liam holds his hands up in surrender, hurrying his steps to catch up with you.

Stepping into the throne room you take another steadying breath, using the wall to help keep your balance. As leaders of the rebellion mingle, discussing the wyvern and Venin, your eyes immediately find Xaden. You let out a sigh of relief at the sight of him unharmed.

Before you can make your way to him Liam waves him over.

The first thing Xaden notices is how pale you look along with the dark spot growing on the side of your uniform. He wordlessly reaches for your ribs, watching for your reaction. Your hand flys out to grasp his wrist. Your grip weak. “Don’t,” you whisper harshly.

“What’s wrong?” You shake your head. You’re struggling to breathe now. Xaden looks to Liam for answers but all his brother can do is shrug, mirroring his worry.

Your other hand grips Xaden’s bicep as hard as you can. “I can’t…I need,” Xaden holds you closer to his body. His hand gently touching your side. You hiss at the contact and try to push Xaden away. “What do you need baby?”

You don’t know what happened after that. When you blacked out all you heard was Xaden yelling for help and your vest being ripped apart.

When you came to the dizzy feeling is still with you. You try to sit up but a large hand on your shoulder stops you. “Don’t even,” the worry clear in Xaden’s voice. You stare up at him with big eyes, remaining flat on the bed.

Xaden sits on the edge of the bed with a huff. He looked like he was struggling not to scold you. “Why?” Is all he asks.

You knew what he meant. Why walk around tending to the injured when you were bleeding out. Truthfully, you knew it was bad. The Venin you went hand to hand with fought nasty.

“Colonel Gerault yelled at me last time, saying leaders shouldn’t look weak even if we feel weak. You know how he gets about image. Violet needed help and so did our other riders. I needed to know they were ok before I asked for help.”

Xaden let out a deep sigh, annoyed with your selflessness. He rolled his neck while simultaneously clenching his jaw. The tension this man holds in his whole body is astounding. “That’s not true and you know it.”

The two of you sit in silence for a while as Xaden contemplates his next words.

He gently holds your hand, running his thumb across your knuckles. “Do you know what the biggest loss in this war would be to me?” You shrug as the possibilities run through your mind knowing Xaden can hear your thoughts.

With each passing thought his frown deepens. “Not this house, not my dragon, or my father’s legacy. It’s you, sweetheart. You would be the greatest loss for me. I can replace a house and all that other shit. But there is no replacing you.”

A tear escapes down your cheek. Squeezing Xaden’s hand you give him a sad smile. “I need you.” He whispers, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry.”

Xaden shakes his head. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, baby. I just need you to get better.” You hold out your pinky for him. Your sacred tradition when making sure one sticks to their word. “Promise.”

He wraps his pinky around yours before adding, “And, you will stay in bed until that wound is fully healed.” You open your mouth to protest but Xaden gives you a look, lifting your entwined fingers. Showing that you are bound to do as he wishes while you’re hurt.

“Fine.” You agree begrudgingly. “Thank you.” He drops your finger, pressing another kiss to your head, then your lips. You grab the back of his head to deepen the kiss. Xaden moans at the feeling of your tongue swiping against his bottom lip. After a few more minutes of passionately making out Xaden pulls away.

You whine at the lack of lip contact. “You need to rest. If we do what I want to do you’re going to need new stitches.” He smirks at you. “Guess I better get to healing.”

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Hello friend I was wondering if I could request a fourth wing x reader fic with xaden? Maybe where instead of Violet being tortured by varrish its reader? And maybe we see a bit from xadens pov?

Hurts like hell

The pain was like no other. The concept of time had slipped away a long time ago. Your body was sore and stiff. Nor could you distinguish if it was the sound of your blood dripping on the floor or the condensation of the cellar walls. “This could be so much easier, wing leader”, Varrish's venomous voice fills your senses and suddenly you wish you hadn’t blinked. Hadn’t made him aware of your consciousness. “What do you know about the rebellion, girl?”, he takes fistfuls of your hair, yanking your head back. Your angry eyes glare up at him, “Eat. My. Shit”, you hiss through gritted teeth as the back of his hand slams into your cheek. The rings he’s wearing crack the scabbed-up cuts all over again.

And it’s as if he feels it. Every blow. Every cut. Every scream. Xaden had lost the amount of time he had vomited since they had taken you. Or more since you had saved Bodhi’s and Garrick's asses and was taken instead of them. Had he beaten both of them up for it? Yes. And he planned on repeating it once you were back in his arms.

“There’s nowhere else they could be keeping her”, Imogen says, tapping her finger on the map. Everyone had been looking for you for three days now. “Unless he’s usually magic he shouldn’t”, Bodhi adds, making Xaden let out a growl. It was driving him mad knowing that you were taking a beating for his slip-up. They weren’t being careful enough. They weren’t thinking about the consequences when they smuggled such a big load of weapons out. “Tonight. There’s an upper-hand meeting at seven that leech of a man should be there”, he grunts, his shadows drowning his hands in the darkness. “Imogen you will make sure he stays there for as long as possible”, and for the first time, she only nods, because she too can feel that Xaden is on his last straw. “You two will come with me. Fuck knows what they have going on down there”, running a hand through his hair, Xaden watches as both Bodhi and Garrick nod. Hold on, he pleads, just for a bit longer. Because he would kill them all. Burn this whole academy down if you were… and that’s enough to make him go ridge once more. He couldn’t let himself think about it.

His heart is beating so fast and so loudly that he doesn’t even hear his footsteps as they navigate the dark corridors of the dungeons. Checking every nook and cranny. Every room. Every floorboard. Until the metal gates leading to the back cellar catch Xaden’s eyes, and the way his shadows rush to it in a frenzy. His legs step forward before he even realizes it. Breathe hitching in his throat.

“Y/n”, he mutters rushing forward. His hands are shaking so much that he can barely push the hair away from your face, let alone look for the pulse. Face. Barely recognizable face. So cut up and bruised. Drowned in angry purples and blacks. “There’s a pulse”, Xaden’s head snapped to the side, he didn’t even realize that Garrick had followed him in here. “Faint but there”, he clasped Xaden’s shoulder, “But we need to get her out of here”.

And he tries, tries so hard to get the ropes of your wrists but it’s as if his own body is going into an overdrive. “Bodhi, get Xaden out of here”, Garrick orders, freeing your legs, reaching to press his fingers to your neck once more. “No”, Xaden argues, pulling at your hand, “Baby, you need to open your eyes”, he mutters looking at you, “Tell me that you hear me”. But there’s nothing. Just your limp body. Drowning in blood and filth. A firm palm presses against the back of his neck and his head is turned away from you.

“We are getting her out. Do you understand?”, Garrick’s firm words slip past the haze. “You will go with Bodhi because you can’t help out anymore and I will carry her and keep her safe”, and it’s no longer a question. It’s a statement. An order. One that Xaden follows. With Bodhi reassuring with the whole way. Catching one last look at you. Of Garrick carefully scooping you up as he mumbles, “Come on, girly, we need you here. Don’t you give up yet”.

Xaden doesn’t move from your side after Brennon meds your wounds. The Rioroso house was the only place they could think of that was safe for you. But even here his mind doesn’t ease up. It’s been a week and you haven’t shown any signs of waking up. So just like any other night when he came to visit you, he’s carefully running the healing balm into the cuts on your face and arms. Needing to know that he’s doing something. Helping in some way.

And it’s the pain sigh that leaves your lips when his fingers brush over the cut on your temple that has his stalling. “Baby”, he breathes, gaze now fully fixed on your face. His lips brush over your knuckles, “Please, open your eyes. I need to…”, and it’s as if his words coxed you out of your slumber as you blink rapidly. Scared eyes scanned the place.

Xaden leans closer, carefully bringing his fingers through your hair. Trying to soothe you with the feeling of him. “Xaden”, his name on your lips is enough to finally make him crack. He lowers his head onto your shoulder as ugly sobs echo through the room. He knows that he should be strong. To be calmer and colder but he was convinced that he was never gonna hear the sound of your voice ever again. “I’m here, my little fighter”, he sniffles, looking back up at you, “l will never let you hurt like that ever again”.

[fantasticfourthwingimagines]

Choose to Change Pairing - Xaden Riorson x Marked!Reader Summary - After two years of being separated, you're finally reunited with your best friends in the Rider's Quadrant. After losing everything, it almost feels like being home again having Xaden at your side. That feeling only increases when Xaden's dragon spends the night with her mate, revealing feelings you'd both held onto for so long. Then a letter arrives from Poromiel, and now you have to decide. Which are you going to let Xaden choose? You, or your home? Word Count - THIS IS 18.5K. IT'S SO LONG I'M SO SORRY Playlist Warnings - Language, Canon typical violence, death (not of a main character), SMUT 18+ ONLY.

Your boots had barely hit solid ground after that godsdamn balance beam of death when your heart lurched with a single thought: find them. It had been at least two years since you had seen their faces, and you had been counting down the days for at least a year now. As much as you hated the situation that brought all of you here, getting to lay your eyes on Xaden and Garrick would be worth it. 

You told your name to the roll keeper, fighting the urge to punch the guy in the face when he gave you a look of total disgust, but quickly moved on. You scanned the crowd, heart pounding against your ribs like a war drum. Too many unfamiliar faces. You wouldn’t even entertain the idea that either of them wouldn’t make it. 

Then - there. To your left, half-shadowed by the building. He was still tall, unmistakable, and your breath caught.

A smile so wide it felt like it was splitting your cheeks formed on your face. “Xaden!” You yelled, not caring if anyone heard you. 

As soon as he heard your voice, he turned around, and you watched his expression ease into relief, before a smile just for you lit his whole face. His smiles were so rare, you kept a special box for every single one, and locked this one up tight with the others. 

You crashed into him like gravity had been waiting years for this moment. His arms locked around you, solid and unshakable, and you clung back like a drowning person breaching the surface. 

The scent of mint and something uniquely him filled your lungs, and your knees nearly gave out from the relief of it. Of him. Emotion clogged your throat, and you closed your eyes. You’d missed him. You’d missed him so, so much, and it had killed you, not being able to be around him after everything that had happened. When they burned your mother alive, you’d had nothing left but the ghost of Xaden’s voice in your ears, and then he was gone too, like the world was determined to peel everything from you piece by piece. 

Now here he was, right where you needed him to be. 

You placed your chin on his chest, looking up . . . and up until you met those beautiful dark eyes. “Have you gotten taller?” 

His smile widened, a teasing tilt of his lips that had some hidden anxiety in your chest unfurling. “I think you’ve just gotten shorter.” His thumb rubbed circles at the base of your skull, and his eyes roved over your face like he was committing it to memory. 

Your body melted at the relaxing touch, and you couldn’t even be annoyed at his words. You tucked your head back against his chest, nuzzling into it once more. “Fuck you,” you muttered, but the words lacked any bite, your voice cracking a little as you burrowed into him. How could you be annoyed by the quip when it felt like the pieces of your broken soul might be starting to fit back together again?

A small chuckle left him, and you felt the slightest touch of his lips against the top of your head, sending warmth from his touch all the way to your toes. 

“Well, don’t mind me. I’ll just continue to stand here until someone remembers I exist.” A voice interrupted the tender moment. 

Turns out you couldn’t bring yourself to be mad about it either though. You’d missed that asshole too. “Might be standing there for a while then, Tavis.” You teased, turning your head against Xaden’s chest to grin at him. Your hands still lingered on Xaden, and you had to remind yourself that he wasn’t going to disappear if you weren’t touching him. 

“Ouch. Good to know you’re still insistent on keeping me humble.” Garrick’s grin was full of teasing as he held his arms open. “Now get over here and hug your second favorite person.” 

You didn’t want to let go. Every part of you screamed to stay, but you’d missed Garrick’s bear hugs. You peeled yourself away and ran the few feet to Garrick, letting him pull you into a hug so tight he lifted you off your feet. “I missed you, jerk.” You murmured, those emotions clogging your throat again. 

His tone turned serious, and he squeezed you so hard you could barely breathe. “I missed you too, half-pint.” Garrick said. 

You groaned at the nickname, and it made him laugh as he sat you down on the ground. “And that is why you’re only my second favorite person until Imogen gets here. Then you’re getting bumped down to third.” 

He shook his head at you, but smiled as he looked between you and Xaden. “Guess the real question is if you’re going to bump Xaden down too.” He asked, wiggling his eyebrows at the two of you. 

You stuck your tongue out at him in a very mature way. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

“I would.” Xaden said from behind you, his fingers brushing the small of your back again. 

You grinned over your shoulder at him, and couldn’t help but lean back into his touch. After going so long without it, you were going to soak up every second you had of his hands on your body. “Guess you’ll have to wait and see.” 

It was at that point they called all the new cadets to formation so they could sort all of you into wings. As you started heading to your designated locations, shivers exploded over your body when Xaden leaned down and whispered in your ear. “I already know the answer.” He whispered, warm breath ghosting your ear. “I just wanted to hear you say it.” 

You elbowed him in the side, pretending not to melt. Then you tucked that smile he was giving you away, top shelf, front and center, with all the others you’d never let yourself forget. 

——————————

You didn’t bother knocking anymore. You hadn’t knocked on Xaden’s door since the second day he moved into it. You barged in like you belonged there, like the air inside was easier to breathe than your own. You passed the desk where he sat in a chair, quill in his hand as he worked through what you assumed was homework, and flopped yourself across his sheets. Your limbs were splayed, and you sank into the familiar softness. His scent clung to the sheets, mint and leather, and it wrapped around you like a second skin. You let out a sigh. 

Nothing. 

You tried again, letting out an even louder sigh this time. 

He still ignored you. 

You tilted your head to watch him, cheek smushed into the comforter, and let out the loudest, most exaggerated sigh you could manage. 

His quill didn’t stop moving, but you caught it - the tiniest twitch at the corner of his mouth. “By all means, sleep.” He said without looking up. “You’ve clearly exhausted yourself doing nothing.” 

You threw his pillow at him. “I have done something, asshole.” 

“Oh? What?” He asked, catching the pillow with one hand, and turning his attention to you. 

“That second year.” You replied, letting out another groan. “It was not worth it.” 

“You always did have questionable taste.” Xaden said, turning his gaze back to his work. 

But his hand tightened around his quill, just for a second.  

Weird. 

“Hey, it’s hard to find someone worthy when you had the very best for your first kiss.” You teased, smirking over at him. 

There it was again, the tiniest twitch in the corner of his mouth. “We were ten.” 

“And . . .” 

He didn’t try to hide the smile anymore, turning in his chair to face you. “You bit my lip. Then ran away before I could even say anything.” 

You gasped, mock-offended. “I blushed and tripped over that dog that was hanging around your house for a while. There’s a difference.” 

“He didn’t like you for a week after that.” 

“He had no taste either apparently.” 

Xaden shook his head at you again, “You’re impossible.” 

You pouted at him. “So what you’re saying is, it wasn’t the best kiss of your life?” 

“I repeat, you’re impossible.” 

“I’d be less impossible if you’d come over here.” You said, patting the spot beside your head. “Especially after being stuck with that idiot for the last few hours.” 

You didn’t have to ask him twice. He stood, crossed the room, and sat beside you without a word. 

You lifted your head to rest in his lap, like you’d done a hundred times, and his hand slid into your hair, fingertips gentle and sure. 

Your eyes fluttered closed. Gods, this is what comfort really felt like. Not that awkward fumbling.  Not that second year's clumsy hands. This. 

When you opened your eyes again, he was frowning down at you as he ran his fingers through your hair. “What did he do?” 

You sighed, not faking this time. “He just wanted to fuck a marked one to say he did it.” 

The fire, anger, sparked in Xaden’s eyes, and you knew you had to quell it or that second year would show up mysteriously murdered later. 

“I took care of it, Xay. You don’t have to worry.” You told him, closing your eyes once more as your whole body relaxed when he resumed stroking your hair. Something about the way his fingers moved put you almost in a trance, “He has a nice new scar to show how stupid he is.” 

You could hear the smile in his voice when he responded. “That’s my girl.” His voice was low, proud and warm, like it had never stopped being true. 

You couldn’t help but smile. As much as this place felt like hell, it somehow felt like heaven too. Getting to be with the boys you grew up with, getting to have these quiet moments with Xaden again? It was all that you’d been craving for years now. In fact, if this was all you got to have the rest of your life? You think you’d be okay with that. 

When you opened your eyes again, and looked up at Xaden, you couldn’t help but question though, would he? He was so handsome. Easily the most gorgeous guy in the quadrant, probably the whole college, and pretty soon, someone was going to get brave enough to flirt with him. You wondered if that was something he wanted. 

You sure didn’t like the way the thought made your heart squeeze, and suddenly you had to know. “Xaden?” 

“Mhmm?” 

“Anybody caught your eye here?” You asked, biting your lip, and trying to ignore the way your heart wouldn’t slow down. 

He stared at you, and by the slight smirk tilting a corner of his lips, you got the distinct impression that he saw right through your question. “As if you’d let anyone else steal my attention.” 

Heat rushed to your face, and a warmth filled your chest. “If it was something you wanted- I could learn to share.” 

Xaden shook his head with a soft smile. “No you couldn’t, but it’s not something I want anyway.” 

You couldn’t deny the relief that his words sent through your body. Despite what he said, if Xaden wanted someone, you would learn to share his attention. You would hate it, because it would mean moments like this with him wouldn’t exist anymore, but you would do it if it meant his happiness. Knowing that you didn’t have to worry about that though? At least for right now? It took a little weight off your chest. Your hand reached up, tugging on his shirt. “If you do decide that’s something you want, you’ll tell me right?” 

Xaden reached for the hand holding his shirt, taking it in his own, and giving it a squeeze. “I’ll tell you.” He promised. 

You closed your eyes again, a slow smile forming on your lips as he continued to stroke your hair, knowing that for right now, you didn’t have to share. 

Maybe you should have told him then that he wouldn’t have to share either. Ever. But the next week, when Xaden challenged that second year that tried to take advantage of you, and then proceeded to wipe the floor with him on the mat, you got the feeling you didn’t have to. 

Xaden wasn’t going to share you either. 

——————————

The landing jarred every bruised bone in your body. You were covered in blood. It filled your mouth with its copper taste. It dripped from your forehead and into your right eye. It still leaked from your thigh despite the makeshift tourniquet. You pushed all of that aside though, because despite the attack, you were now bonded to a fucking dragon. 

“You would not be bleeding so much had you come when I called.” She said, tone dry.

You tried not to gasp at the pain in your thigh as you slid off her, landing on shaky legs, but you made it. “No, I wouldn’t be bleeding so much if the fucking crown Prince of Navarre hadn’t sent his little army after me.” When you had felt the pull of your new dragon Ailith, you had come across a secret meeting and overheard Alic’s plans to capture you and Garrick to lure Xaden out and kill him. Problem with that was that he hadn’t done his homework, sending five half trained cadets after you like you were something frail. “Besides,” you patted her leg. “Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy the show. After all, you could’ve helped.” 

“If you couldn’t take on five poorly trained cadets you were unworthy of my bond.” She huffed, then added, “Though I admit, it was entertaining to watch.” 

You couldn’t help but agree. 

Her head snapped to the side, as if she could hear something you could not. “I believe your friends are very concerned for your safety.” Her head tilted. “Sgaeyl reports the taller one particularly agitated.” 

Xaden. 

You almost collapsed with relief, or you supposed it could be blood loss at this point. “They’re okay?” You asked, your voice breaking on the last word.

She turned her gaze back to you, and her golden eyes softened the smallest fraction. “They are injured, but they will be fine, fierce one.” She assured you. 

You heard your name being called, and turned around in just enough time to be lifted off your feet into a hug by a bruised and bloody Garrick. “Fuck, am I glad to see you.” He muttered, his voice cracking as he held you against him. 

“I’m glad to see you too.” You said, and you couldn’t be sure whether that was more blood or tears running down your cheek. “I tried - I tried to hold them off when I heard they were coming, I ran to try and distract them, but they split up and-”

“Is she okay?” A familiar voice interrupted the two of you. 

You lifted your head off Garrick’s shoulder. 

A cut sliced through his eyebrow. A bruise painted his jaw. But he was here. Breathing. Alive. “Xaden,” you exhaled. 

Garrick, sensing that you needed someone else now, placed you down on the ground in time for Xaden to step forward, cupping your face in his hands. You watched as his eyes seemed to catalogue every single visible injury on your body, and then traveled back up to meet yours. 

If you didn’t know Xaden, you would miss it. The tense jaw, the rigid shoulders, the icy glint in his eyes. Then there was the slight tremor in his hands, the crack in his armor. Xaden, who was usually the picture of control, was about to lose it. 

You placed your hand on his chest, rubbing right above his heart. “I’m fine, Xaden.” When his eyes narrowed at you, you corrected. “Okay, mostly fine.”

“How many?” His voice was low, dangerous. 

“Five.” You drew a rune with your finger on his chest, right over his heart. Slow and deliberate, just between the two of you. You wondered if he’d pick up on it. “They underestimated me.” You smirked. 

You had been hoping that you would get at least a small smile, but nothing. “Where are you hurt the worst?” He asked. 

“Xaden,” you frowned. “I’m fine-”

There was a growl from behind you, and you heard Ailith’s voice in your mind. “You are not fine. Let the tall one help you before I reconsider my choice of rider.” 

You sighed, bone-deep. Was this your new reality now? Blood loss, bossy dragons, and being taken half-dead into tents? “My thigh is still bleeding pretty badly.” You admitted. 

Without a word, Xaden scooped you up in his arms, only putting you down long enough to tell your dragon’s name to the roll keeper, and then you were back in his arms being carried to the makeshift healer's tent. He was warm and steady, one of the only things in your day that hadn’t tried to kill you, so while it caused stares, you couldn’t bring yourself to protest. 

The rest of the evening passed by in a blur. You barely remembered the healer’s hands or the stab of the needle. Just flashes of light, Garrick’s murmured voice, and Xaden’s hovering shadow. 

Hours later, while everyone else was out celebrating their new bonds and another day of survival, your body decided it was too beat up to do so. You found yourself laying in bed instead, about to drift off in exhaustion when someone knocked on your door. 

When you opened it, you weren’t surprised to find Xaden there. He stared into your eyes for a moment, then walked in, shutting the door behind him. Within seconds you were wrapped up in the hug you’d been waiting for since you landed on the ground this afternoon. 

Your knees buckled, but his arms were already there, anchoring you to him. Every bit of tension and pain in your body was shoved aside as Xaden held you in his arms, his hands cradling you against him like you were something precious. You felt him kiss the stitches on your hairline, but refused to wince. You’d endure anything for that kind of touch. 

“I wish I could kill him again for this.” 

You didn’t respond. There wasn’t anything to say. The fury in his voice said everything. 

Xaden didn’t say anything else. He just continued to hold you. For a moment you wondered if he needed this more than you.

Unfortunately your leg, still burning, started to throb, and you knew you needed to lay back down. You didn’t want him to leave though. The thought of sleeping alone felt like asking your body to fall apart again. You needed him close. Pulling back enough to look in his eyes, you asked, “stay with me tonight?” 

His brow furrowed, concern etched on his face, and almost as if he could sense your thoughts, he frowned. “Is your leg still bothering you?” 

You hesitated, then nodded. There was no point in lying, not to him. 

Like earlier, he swept you right up into his arms, carrying you to your bed. He didn’t have to, it was steps away, but he did, settling you onto it. As soon as you were comfortable on your side, he slid in behind you, the warmth of his chest enveloping your back as his breath brushed the curve of your neck and his arms wrapped around you. 

This was what you needed. More than anything the healers or menders could give you. You snuggled back against him, closing your eyes and trying not to shiver at the movement of his thumb stroking up and down your stomach. “What happened?” You asked, needing to know. 

Xaden tensed, his arms tightening around you, fingers still moving against your stomach in slow, grounding strokes. You could feel his jaw clench near your temple. “I found them trying to kill Garrick. There were at least ten of them. Apparently Alic had spent a lot of time amassing his own little posse.” 

“Probably didn’t take much. Everyone wants to kiss the ass of the possible future king.” You grumbled. 

“Garrick was taking on two, and I was up against Alic.” Xaden continued. “He wouldn’t shut up. He kept talking about how he was doing us all a favor, taking us out now. That no one expected us to make it any farther than right here. If they didn’t take us out now, the dragons would. They were loyal to Navarre and would burn us the moment they got the chance.” 

Your hand reached up and started stroking Xaden’s arm, tracing along the lines of his relic. “Guess the jokes on them since we all bonded.” 

“Then he started talking about you. How he hoped they were taking their time with you. How he was hoping we were close enough to hear you scream when they finished you off.” Xaden said, his voice was dark, sharp as the edge of his swords as his arms tightened around you. “He should have shut up.” 

“They taunted me too.” You admitted. “Said they couldn’t wait to see you and Garrick’s traitor blood spilled. How they’d keep doing it until there was none of us left.” You took a shaky breath, your anger spiking at the thought. “It makes me want to scream that they’re so concerned with having us here when there’s a much larger problem out there staring them in the face.” 

“Unless someone does something about it.” 

You knew that tone. You looked over your shoulder to find his eyes watching you, as if waiting for your reaction. “What’s your plan?” You asked, because you knew by that voice he had one. 

Xaden smirked. 

And you knew everything was about to change.

——————————

A sharp, frantic pounding at your door tore you from sleep like a blade to your spine. It felt like you had just laid down, and you couldn’t be more irritated. You wanted to ignore it, curl back into the sheets, but the knocking was insistent. You groaned, walking over to the door and opening it. “You better have a damn good reason - Xaden?” 

You’d never seen him like this. You’d known him almost your whole life, and you’d never seen him so . . . on edge. His jaw was clenched so tight you thought his teeth might crack. His eyes were fixed on the ground, shadows pooled under them like bruises. He stood rigid in your doorway, more like a storm held in human form than a man. “I can’t shut her out.” He croaked, still not looking at you. 

There was one “she” he could be talking about, but . . . why would he need to shut her out? “Sgaeyl?” You tried to confirm. 

His only response was a stiff nod. 

Your mind drifted to that sapphire blue bond, still fresh in your mind after only a few months. “Is Sgaeyl okay?” You asked Ailith. 

You could have sworn you heard . . . A chortle of laughter in response. “Sgaeyl is more than fine,” Ailith purred, smug and infuriating. “She’s entangled in matters of great passion. Unfortunately, so is her rider.”  

You frowned, feeling like there was a joke you were missing out on. “What does that mean? Xaden is . . . barely hanging on right now.” 

Her response was even more amused. “Sgaeyl is spending time with her mate, and the tall one needs to work on his shields.” 

Your eyes widened. Was she implying - “Xaden, what are you feeling?” You asked quietly. 

His eyes snapped to yours, black with barely restrained hunger, and your breath caught. Then they dropped, slowly, deliberately, dragging down the length of your body like a physical caress. Your skin burned in his gaze, each inch branded by want. “What. The. Fuck. Are. You. Wearing?” Xaden grunted out, and you let out a breath as his hands gripped your door frame, fingers digging into the stone. 

You glanced down, your frown deepening as you looked at the gown. “This is what I sleep in, Xaden,” you glanced up at him again, more and more concerned with his behavior. You reached out to him and grabbed his flight jacket, trying to tug him inside. “Come in before someone sees-”

“Don’t,” he ground out, stumbling back like your fingers were fire. “If you touch me right now, I will lose every shred of control I have left.” 

“This is almost as entertaining as watching you kill all those cadets,” Ailith’s voice spoke down the bond again. 

You didn’t find it so amusing. 

“How do I help him?” You asked. You didn’t like feeling like this. So powerless to do anything but watch him suffer. 

“I believe you can figure that out on your own.” Ailith dismissed, humor still in her voice as a wall slammed down between your connection, and she cut you off. 

You almost growled in frustration, but stopped when you locked eyes on Xaden who was still so tense you were afraid he was going to break something. “Why can’t I touch you, Xaden?” You whispered. 

His eyes darkened. “Because if you touch me-“ Xaden rasped, jaw clenched. “I won’t be able to stop. I’ll take and take until I’ve had every inch of you - and even that might not be enough.” 

It all clicked into place then. Why Xaden was so freaked out. Why he was looking at you like he was starving. Ailith’s words about Sgaeyl and her mate. Xaden not being able to shut her out. You hadn’t been bonded long, but you knew what it was like to have your dragon’s emotions override your own. 

Xaden was being consumed by lust. 

And the only person he trusted to see him like this, so out of control, was you. 

Your heart thudded against your chest at the implications. You knew how you could help him. The question was, if he’d let you. 

You reached out again, and this time he didn’t stop you, staring into your eyes as you tugged him inside your room, shutting the door behind him. As soon as you let go of him, his trembling hands landed on your hips. His nose dragged along your neck, inhaling like he was trying to breathe you into his lungs, his lips brushing the spot below your ear as his breath stuttered out, hot and shaky.  

You should’ve been scared, of what this might mean, of what it could ruin. But all you could think about was how long you’d wanted him like this. Wild. Unraveled. Yours. 

“Let me help you.” You whispered, reaching up to tangle your fingers in his soft curls. “Even if it’s the bond.” You hated how your heart cracked around the truth. Even if it meant nothing in the morning. 

Xaden’s fingers dug in so hard to your hips you were sure there would be bruises. “I won’t use you.” He grunted against your neck. 

You pulled back enough to look into his eyes. Then, you took one of his hands, and slid it down your side, keeping your gaze locked on his as you slid the warm, calloused hand under your gown. “You need a release.” You took a shaky breath as he started rubbing circles on your inner thigh with his thumb. “I could do with one too.” 

He shuddered, visibly shaken as he touched your skin, letting out a sharp breath. “You’re so fucking soft.” He growled, each word dragging rough and reverent against your skin. His lips brushed your ear, and your breath hitched. “You always have been.” 

A current of heat and anticipation skated across your skin like lightning, your nerves humming as your hands slid up his chest, memorizing every inch. “And you . . . are definitely not soft.” 

Xaden let out a choked laugh, and you held your breath as his lips brushed across your skin once more with the slightest touch. 

A soft sigh escaped you, and you bit your lip. “Let me help you, Xaden.” You whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of everything unsaid. “Please.” You knew it was going to hurt, but you also knew it was going to be amazing. The pain would be worth every second of being with him. 

Xaden pulled back then, to look into your eyes, and his facial expression almost looked pained. As if he wanted to give in, but something was still holding him back. “You have no idea what you mean to me.” Xaden said, his voice almost shattered. “I can’t risk-”

“I want you, Xaden,” the words slipped from your lips before you could think, rough and bare and years overdue. “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think you’d ever look at me like this. But this isn’t pity. This is five years of wanting you and trying not to show it. I want your hands on me. I want you in every way there is.” 

He continued to look at you, searching your eyes, and you weren’t sure what he was looking for, but you knew the moment he found it. His eyes darkened, and one of his hands reached up to cup your cheek. “. . . Fuck,” he said, the word broken and more fragile than you’d ever heard him speak, but you didn’t have time to linger on it. 

Because then, as if all the restraint in him snapped, Xaden crushed his mouth to yours. 

The world fractured at the seams - air, time, thought, all vanished. You didn’t just kiss him, you collapsed into him. Into five years of yearning, into every held breath and unsaid word. You didn’t melt. You burned. 

Xaden didn’t kiss. He consumed. His mouth was all hunger and heat, stealing every breath, every thought, until nothing was left but raw sensation and the addictive rush of him. And still, it wasn’t enough. You’d let him take everything - soul, breath, sanity - and offer up more with trembling hands.  

He groaned against your lips, his arm tightening around you to hold you steady even though you hadn’t even realized you’d been swaying. He parted your lips skillfully and tilted your head for an angle that had you seeing stars. 

Gods, kissing had never felt like this, like worship and destruction all at once. Was it because you’d only kissed lousy kissers, or was it because it was Xaden? You had a feeling it was the second. Your hands clenched into fists in his shirt because even though he was holding you up, the strokes of his tongue had you weak. You started feeling as out of control as him, all of your energy focused on kissing him back, pouring out every inch of desire into him. When the hand on your thigh slid up and he brushed your heated core, you couldn’t help but let out a whimper, wanting him there desperately. 

Xaden pulled away from your lips, letting out a shaky exhale, his fingers dug into your thigh beneath your gown, possessive, shaking. “I can’t be gentle right now,” he rasped, voice wrecked.

You let your gaze meet his, and you were sure your eyes were as dark and hazy as his when you tugged at his shirt sharply. “Who said I wanted gentle?” you breathed, dragging him closer. “I want you.” 

Whatever lingering control Xaden had vanished. 

One moment you were staring up at him, the next heartbeat your back was against your desk. Objects clattered to the floor - books, bottles, maybe your sanity - but none of it mattered. He was everywhere, and he was kissing you again, every single delicious inch of him pressed against you, and you couldn’t bring yourself to care. His mouth was relentless, and you chased every kiss like it might be your last, sighing at the delicate slide of your tongue against his. He tasted like chocolate and churam, and you were almost positive you could get high off of it. 

His hands weren’t hesitant anymore. They roamed all over your body, dragging over your skin in a way that had chills racing down your spine. You tugged him even closer, gasping as one of his hands made its way to your breast and squeezed, sending a shockwave of pleasure down your spine. “Xaden . . .” His name left your lips like a prayer, like a plea, your body arching into every devastating stroke of his hand. 

Then you decided it was your turn. Your hand was the one exploring now, slipping through the narrow space between you, savoring how Xaden’s muscles tensed like a drawn bow beneath your touch - right up until you reached his leathers. After a second of hesitation, you reached in and gripped him in your hand, hot and heavy. 

He moved, spinning you so fast your breath hitched and your hand shot out to steady yourself on the desk. One of his hands landed on your hip while the other gripped the strands of your hair in his fist. A breath escaped as he tugged your head back against his shoulder, his grip in your hair firm, but not causing pain. “Not yet,” Xaden murmured, and then his mouth was on your skin again. 

You were going to combust. Heat, power, and want flooded your bloodstream, tangled with the bliss of his lips. He kissed every exposed inch of you until he reached the spot where your neck met your collarbone. Your heart stopped for a moment as he paused, and then he was sucking, biting, marking you as his. 

Oh gods. The idea of being his, claimed, marked, had your toes curling. You arched your hips back into him with a moan, desperate for more friction, more of him. You’d never needed something so much in your life, but if you didn’t get him inside of you soon, you were sure you were going to combust. “Xaden, I need you.” You whispered. 

His hand moved low to your stomach and held you there, rolling his hips and making you moan again. “Say that again,” he said, whispering the words in your ear. 

“I need you inside me, Xay,” you whispered again, and felt him shudder. Whether it was from the desperation in your voice or the nickname no one else dared use, you didn’t know, but it did something to him.  

The next heartbeat though his hand was back under your gown, another heartbeat and he had slipped it through the front of your underwear and between your thighs, his fingers slow, deliberate, devastating. Your knees buckled, and if he hadn’t been holding you, you were sure you would have fallen. 

“Fuck . . .” Xaden groaned, slipping another finger inside easily with how wet you were. “Is this all it takes, beautiful? My mouth, my hands, and you’re already this wet for me?” 

Embarrassment didn’t even register. “You’ve clearly underestimated how long I’ve wanted you.” You breathed, letting out a whimper as his thumb pressed against your clit. 

His hand let go of your hair, and slid around the front of your body, taking hold of your breast again. His touch was scorching even through the thin silk of your nightgown. The only thing that would feel better was his hand on your skin. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?” Xaden murmured, then cruelly, he slipped his fingers out of you. 

Your hips followed him, desperate for his touch again, but in a move that left you gasping, his hand grabbed your underwear and ripped them clean off of you. As soon as they were out of the way, two fingers slipped back inside of you, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit. 

“How many times I’ve wanted to kill someone just for looking at you like they had a chance?” Xaden continued, as your head fell back against his shoulder. “You’re mine, no matter how many others you play with, they don’t matter. You are mine.” 

He was going to destroy you. Either with his words or his touch you weren’t sure. Gods had he really been feeling this way? Or was this the bond getting the better of him? You didn’t have time to dwell on it, because in the next moment his fingers slipped out of you again, leaving you aching as you slumped against him. Then you heard the unmistakable sound of his leathers dropping behind him, and when he pulled your hips back against him, you let out a low moan. 

This was happening. Xaden was about to fuck you, and it wasn’t some fever dream you’d wake up from, ashamed and alone. This was real.  

He took one of his legs and pushed yours further apart while his hands slid your nightgown up to your hips. “Tell me that no one else has mattered. Tell me that you want me.” Xaden growled in your ear, and you whimpered as he ran his cock along your slit. 

Gods he expected you to form words right now? If you hadn’t already thought the words, you would’ve been too blissed out to say them. “They were nothing. Placeholders for nights when I got lonely because I couldn’t have you.” You admitted breathlessly, as you arched your hips back against him, needing him inside you more than you needed air. “Xaden, please . . .” 

His hand flexed at your hip, and a shiver went down your spine as his lips brushed your ear. “You told me to tell you if I wanted someone. I do.” Your heart stopped as he paused at your entrance. “It’s you.” 

Then, in one deep thrust, he slammed inside of you. 

His hand covered your mouth to stifle your cry as he filled you up more than anyone ever had. While one of your hands clutched at the edge of the table, the other reached up and grabbed his wrist, digging into his skin as your eyes closed at the intensity of this moment. 

Gods you didn’t even have the right words to describe the pleasure that was pouring through your body. The closest thing you could think of was when you were flying and Ailith would go into a sudden dive. The adrenaline would crawl up your throat, all encompassing, exuberant. It was one of your favorite things. However the pleasure, the intimacy of having Xaden inside of you, topped it. 

“Are you okay?” His voice sounded almost underwater with the sound of blood rushing to your ears, but you heard him. 

You nodded, and then tugged his hand down from your mouth so he could hear you. “Don’t stop. You feel perfect.” You said breathlessly. Then, unable to help yourself, you pressed back against him, looking for that friction again and moaning when you found it. Godsdamn you were never going to get enough of this. 

“Fuck,” Xaden’s voice was raw, almost tortured, and this time there was no stopping him. He pushed down on your back until your chest was resting on top of the desk, and then slid out of you for the briefest moment to push himself back in roughly. The whole desk shook with the force of it, and you cried out again as the new angle caused him to hit even deeper inside of you. 

Xaden didn’t bother to muffle your voice this time. 

As promised, he wasn’t gentle. His pace was rough, bruising. He used a hand on the small of your back to hold you down to the table while he pounded into you, keeping you in place while his other hand dug into your hip. You’d seen Xaden out of control, rarely, but never like this. It was as if everything that you knew he kept inside of him was being unleashed, and it added an extra level of intimacy to the moment knowing that he felt safe enough to do it with you. 

You loved every second of it. 

Pleasure curled low in your stomach as heat rushed through your body, and you felt a familiar rush of power flooding you. Almost as if he could sense it, Xaden’s pace picked up even more until you could barely keep up, your hands digging into the sides of the table. “Xaden . . .” You moaned, not even sure what you were asking for. All that you knew was that you needed more.

He seemed to know though. His hand that was around your back slid around to slip between your thighs, touching you in a way that would have made you fall to your knees if you hadn't already been across the desk. His other slid up your side to cover your hand, entwining your fingers with his large ones. Xaden said your name then, raw and vulnerable, and you closed your eyes at the sound of it and the emotions it stirred in you. “I’m not going to make it long with you squeezing me like that.” He groaned, his hand tightening around yours. 

You hadn’t even realized you’d been doing it. Your body reacting before your mind could even catch up with what was happening. “Don’t care,” you managed to say. “I’m so close too.” You told him, letting out another cry as he slammed to you again, hitting a spot that had you seeing stars. 

Your words seemed to egg him on, and his pace became relentless. There was no time to breathe, no time to absorb anything that was happening. It was a build up of pleasure that was moments away from crashing over you and dragging you under. You felt Xaden lean over the desk, his lips finding your ear again. “I’ve got you. Let go.” He whispered, and then brought his lips down to your neck while rubbing your clit. 

Like your body had been waiting for permission, you exploded. Your whole body tensed, then released in waves of bliss almost like when you were using Ailith’s power. You know you called out his name, squeezing his hand so you didn’t lose him in the ocean of pleasure he’d dragged you into. 

Some part of you heard his grunt of, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” while he sped up even more than you thought was possible until he released inside of you. 

Glass shattered, and darkness swallowed the room. 

“Xaden!” You gasped, panic widening your eyes as your other hand reached for him. 

“It’s me,” He said, taking your other hand like an anchor, and you watched as the blackness - the shadows - slithered back toward him, curling along the walls like smoke. “I’ve never - I’ve never done that.” His muscles released against your back, and you felt the most gentle kiss against your shoulder as your breathing went back to normal. 

And as soft light returned to the room, your eyes landed on the plant in your window, once a modest size, now curled up the whole height of your wall, the pot it had been in shattered on the ground. “Yeah . . . I’ve never done that either.” You breathed, eyes wide.

Gods. That had really happened.

A slow, satisfied smile formed on your lips as feeling started to return to your body. Sensation returned in pieces: the cold press of wood against your cheek, the edge of a scroll digging into your stomach, the delicious heat of Xaden flush against your back - 

You laughed, unable to hold it in. “Gods, you didn’t even bother taking your shirt off.” 

There was silence for a moment, and then you heard one of your favorite sounds in the world. Even more rare than his smile. 

His laugh. 

You let out a sigh as he slid out of you, then gripped your waist, turning you around to face him. He looked so much calmer, more like the Xaden you knew, and not the desperate man who’d shown up at your door. “It’s not like you haven’t seen me without a shirt on.” Xaden said, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy the view when I get it” You said, and you let your hands slip under his shirt, fingertips brushing the hard muscles of his abs that had your mouth watering and eager to trace them with your tongue. 

His eyes darkened, hands slipping lower to tease at the hem of your gown. 

You’d thought the fire had burned out, but no - he was already stroking it again. 

“You know, it’s not fair. You’ve seen me, but I haven’t seen you.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Who’s fault is that?” 

Xaden smirked at you, “Can’t blame me for getting distracted when you’re wearing a gown like that.” His hands fisting in the fabric. 

A small smile tugged at your lips. The Deverelli silk clung like a whisper - barely there, hiding nothing. You loved the way it felt on your skin, but right now, all you wanted was Xaden. His hands. His lips. His everything. “Well, I’m all for fairness,” you said, and kept your eyes locked on him as you slipped the straps over your shoulders.

Xaden took it from there, tugging it down your hips, and your whole body heated once more as his eyes trailed over every inch of skin you revealed like he was memorizing it. Then he paused at a spot right above your heart. “When did you get that?” He asked, voice low, brow furrowing. 

Your heart stuttered for a moment, because you’d forgotten it existed until Xaden reminded you of it. You bit your bottom lip, unsure. You never thought you’d have to tell him, but there was no way you could lie to him after all that. “Right after our parents- ” You swallowed hard, the words crumbling in your throat before you could finish.

He didn’t need you to though. His thumb brushed across the scar again, the touch reverent. Then he glanced back up at you, his eyes still dark. “Who is it for?” 

You hesitated, but reached down to take his hand, sliding it up over the scar until his eyes met yours. “You took responsibility for everyone, no questions asked, but . . .” You squeezed his hand. “I wanted to have responsibility for you.” 

You’d never seen him like this, truly speechless. His gaze was locked on yours, and you watched emotion crash over his features in waves. Disbelief, guilt, sorrow, but then it changed to something else. Reverence, devotion, and for a second, something you were too scared to even put a name to. When he spoke, his voice was low and rough, even though it barely rose over a whisper. “You didn’t have to-”

You lifted his hand up to your lips. “I think we need to work on your communication skills, Xaden Riorson.” You said, pressing a delicate kiss to his palm. “Because I just told you, I wanted to.” 

His hand slid up to cradle the side of your neck, his thumb brushing across your jawline with aching tenderness. “You realize that mark means you’re stuck with me.” Xaden murmured, his eyes like twin pools of onyx locked on yours. 

“You should be more concerned that you’re stuck with me.” He would be. He was never getting rid of you now. 

One of those rare, gorgeous smiles tugged at his lips. The next heartbeat, his shirt hit the floor. The one after, he had you in the air, leaving you gasping with a laugh as you clung to his muscled body like a lifeline. Then your back hit the mattress and Xaden was on you, kissing you like a starving man, like you were the only thing in the world worth tasting.

——————————

You had no idea what time it was when your eyes opened, but you knew it was still dark outside your window so it couldn’t have been long. You stretched out on your bed with a soft, blissful sigh as memories of earlier curled around your thoughts like smoke. You rolled over, hoping to find an asleep Xaden, but instead you found him sitting up,  the moonlight catching on the map of scars across his bare back. You gave into the quiet pull in your chest and sat up, leaning forward to press a kiss against one. 

He tensed beneath your touch, and you sighed, running your hands up and down the steel lines of his biceps.

“If you try to make this weird, Xaden Riorson, I swear I’ll kick your ass.” You warned, your voice low but firm. 

You couldn’t see his face, but you saw the way his jaw clenched, the thoughts churning behind his silence. Before he could spiral, you cut in. 

“And remember, I know you. I know how your mind works, and don’t insult me by even thinking I’d let you use me like that. I’ve been dreaming about what happened for years.” You pressed a tender kiss to his shoulder. “So unless you’ve decided you don’t want me-”

Xaden turned to face you, his eyes narrowing at your words. “Don’t ever think that. I could be at Malek’s doorstep, and I’d still be craving you more than death.” 

His words sent your heartbeat stuttering, and suddenly you weren’t close enough. You climbed into his lap, sliding your arms around his neck. “Then don’t fight it.” You whispered, resting your forehead against his. 

Xaden wrapped his arms around you like he never planned to let go. “I can’t.” He let out a sigh, looking so deep into your eyes, you were sure he could see straight to your soul. “But if something happens . . . If this doesn’t work - I will not lose you.” 

You didn’t want to think about it not working. You didn’t want to think about the possibility of anything other than forever with him, but you knew why he had to say it. You and Xaden were entwined, far beyond the physical. Your souls had been tangled together since that ridiculous night Garrick locked you both in the kitchen and refused to let you out until you were best friends - right around the time Xaden handed you the bigger half of his chocolate cake without a word. Xaden owned too much of your soul to ever let him go, no matter what happened between the two of you. “You can’t lose me, Xaden.” You took his hand and pressed it over the scar above your heart. “You’re a part of me.” 

His eyes flared as he felt the scar under his palm, and then moved his hand so he could press a kiss against it. “And you’re a part of me.” 

Gods let that be enough. 

——————————

You paced from the edge of the courtyard to the stone pillar and back again, arms folded so tight they might bruise.

“You’re making me dizzy.” 

You ignored him. 

“Pacing back and forth is not going to make them show up any faster.” 

You gave him nothing. 

“Xaden, your girl is making me nauseous.” 

There was a sigh, and a large hand grabbed your wrist, tugging your back into a firm chest. “I swear, being around the two of you is like taking care of toddlers.” Xaden murmured, trapping you against him with an arm around your waist. 

“Let me go so I can actually make him nauseous.” You grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“You need to relax.” His breath brushed against your ear as he leaned in close. “They’re going to make it across. Like we did.” You let out a little sigh as he brushed a kiss to your cheek. “Worrying is not going to change anything. Besides, I thought I wore you out too much last night for you to be this wound up.”

Despite yourself, a little smile tugged at your lips as scenes from last night began to play in your mind, sending a wave of desire through your blood. “Guess not. You’ll have to make up for it tonight, Squad Leader.” You teased him. 

He bit your earlobe, just enough to make you shiver. “Greedy.” 

You laughed, cheeks flushing. 

“Okay now I’m really nauseous. I think I liked it better when you two were oblivious idiots.” Garrick said, pulling you and Xaden out of your moment. His words may have been annoyed, but the dimple in his cheek exposed how happy he was for the two of you. 

You flipped him off with a grin. “Don’t be jealous because Imogen’s not here for you to flirt with yet.” 

“Urgh, as if. Everyone knows the only person I’d flirt with here is you.” A familiar voice said. 

For the first time in a year, you willingly peeled yourself out of Xaden’s arms to tackle your best friend in a hug. “I knew you’d make that parapet your bitch.” You mumbled as you held her even tighter. 

She laughed, returning your hug just as strongly. “No way was I abandoning you with this duo of disaster. Well, trio now, I guess.” She said, and you looked up to see Bodhi grinning behind you. 

Relief swept through you, tension melting from your shoulders. While the danger wasn’t over, you could at least keep a better eye on them now. Especially since Xaden was a Squad Leader and Garrick an Executive Officer. Not for the Squad you were in, but still, it had its benefits. It also helped that everyone was scared shitless of Xaden. 

Except for you. 

You watched as he approached Bodhi, pulling back from Imogen so you could watch the two of them embrace. “It’s good to see you, cousin.” You heard Xaden say. 

Bodhi returned his hug. “You too.” His words were short, but you could feel the emotion rolling off of him in waves. They were thick with feeling. Relief. Gratitude. The ache of finally being with family. 

“Gotta say, Durran. Thought you would have grown at least a little since last time.” Garrick said with a grin as he embraced the younger boy. 

“What’s your excuse, Tavis?” Imogen said before Bodhi could even respond as you stepped forward to give him your own hug now. “I think you’ve gotten shorter since the last time I saw you.” 

You smirked. Gods, it had always been obvious, but now it was undeniable - Imogen and Garrick still had that spark. Even if they insisted on pretending otherwise. 

Xaden sighed, and a ribbon of shadow curled around your ankle, something new he’d just started to master. A quiet, intimate kind of claim. “I take it back.” He said, his hand settling on your hip as Garrick and Imogen’s bickering hit a new pitch. “I’d rather handle you and Garrick than them.” 

You grinned over at him. 

——————————

“I won.” 

“It wasn’t a race.” 

“It was the moment I called it.” 

Xaden slid off Sgaeyl’s back with enviable ease, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked at you. “When you had already started flying away. I believe that makes you a cheater not a winner.” 

You stuck your tongue out at him. “Don’t be a sore loser.” 

He cocked an eyebrow at you, a smirk playing at his lips as he stepped towards you. “I can think of much better uses for that tongue, you know.” 

“Xaden!” You playfully gasped, slapping at his chest. “Not in front of the dragons! We’ll traumatize them.” You couldn’t help but smile though as he took hold of your hands, entwining your fingers. “Sgaeyl is finally starting to like me.” 

He shook his head, backing you up until your spine brushed cool stone. “She tolerates you.” 

“Because according to her, you make the tall one less surly.” Ailith supplied down your bond. 

 You would’ve grinned at Sgaeyl if you weren’t afraid of her literally biting your head off. “Tolerate is better than despise.” You insisted, tugging him close until his body was pressed against yours. “Ailith likes you.” 

Xaden’s smirk turned into a grin as he bumped his nose against yours. “Oh?” He said in a disbelieving tone. 

“Only because he makes you happy, fierce one. If he stops doing so I’ll gladly set him aflame.” Ailith told you, warmth edged with threat. 

Affection rolled down your bond, and your smile turned soft. “She says you make me happy.” 

Something tender flickered across his face - like you’d handed him your heart, and he knew how carefully he needed to hold it. “Do I?” He asked. His tone was playful, but you knew the question was real.  

You loved how easy it was for you to tell him the truth. “You always have, Xaden.” 

You could feel it coming off of his skin. The joy, the awe, the pride, even the four letter word you still had trouble believing. His eyes were shining as he looked at you. “All right,” he conceded. “You win. What do you want as your prize?” He asked, one of his hands letting go of you to tug at the collar of your shirt. 

Your eyes fluttered shut as he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to that sensitive spot behind your ear that had you squirming. “Mhmm, you.” You responded, your voice already a little breathless. 

Xaden’s mouth kept moving - along your jaw, down your neck - while his fingers slid under the collar of your shirt, tugging it down enough to expose the scar on your chest. He pressed a kiss to it, and sparks shot through your bloodstream. “I’m already yours.” He murmured.

There was no deception in his voice, simply facts, and your whole body melted at the words because they were still hard to believe. You didn’t think you’d done anything in your life to deserve how Xaden Riorson felt about you, but you were going to hold it close to your chest all the same. 

Xaden moved, and it pulled you out of your thoughts as he got down on his knees in front of you, trailing kisses down your chest, then lower. “Xaden, what are you-?”

“How about for your prize . . .” His hand unbuttoned your leathers, and he shoved them down to your knees. “I’ll show you some of the uses of my tongue?” He looked up at you with a downright sinful smirk, and within the next heartbeat he had you in the air, legs lifted as he fit himself between them, cool leathers brushing your thighs, and his shoulders braced beneath you.

Heat flooded your veins, curling low in your belly despite the chill of the stone at your back. Your fingers dove into his soft, dark hair, tugging him closer. “You have such good ideas.” You told him, brushing his hair back so you could see the wicked smile that was all for you. 

Xaden’s grin turned devilish. 

——————————

“And you say I’m the one who’s always distracting you.” You tossed a look over your shoulder, voice laced with amusement. 

“Hmm?” Was all he offered in return. 

You glanced over at Xaden and groaned. He was lounging shirtless against the headboard, arms tucked behind his head, muscles on full display - tempting enough that your tongue itched to trace every inch. 

Unfair. Completely and utterly unfair. 

“I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.” Xaden said, his tone pure innocence, but his smirk and the look in his eyes gave him away.

You looked pointedly at the shadow that was teasing up your thigh with a featherlight touch. “Oh, you don’t?” 

Xaden smirked. “Sometimes they have a mind of their own. They like you.” 

A pleased smile tugged at your lips before you could stop it. “Uh huh. Totally unrelated to the stupidly sexy man who’s been doing everything short of lighting himself on fire to get my attention for the last hour?” 

His eyes sparkled. “Stupidly sexy, huh?” He echoed, smug, as his shadow slid even higher, making you shiver. 

Gods you were so weak for him. It took so little for him to make you fold it was almost embarrassing. Then again, you didn’t care. “You’re not going to let me finish this, are you?” 

His smirk widened. 

You sighed, loud and theatrical, and then all but ran to his bed, diving into his arms, right where you belonged. 

Xaden laughed, threading his fingers into your hair while the other slid beneath your shirt, tracing slow circles on your spine. He then pressed a lingering kiss to the side of your face that made you smile. “That’s better.” 

“I’m going to tell everyone that Xaden Riorson is the quadrant's biggest cuddler and ruin your badass reputation.” You mumbled into his neck, returning his kiss with one against his warm skin. 

“No one will believe you.” He replied, amusement threaded in his tone as he continued to draw soothing circles on your back. 

He wasn’t wrong, but you weren’t going to admit it. “You’re hindering my education.” 

He nipped at your ear. “Since when have you given a shit?” 

You pulled back, giving him your most serious thinking face, then ruined it with a grin. “You’re right.” You said, then leaned forward to capture his lips in a deep kiss. 

His smile curved against your lips, and before you could catch your breath, he flipped you beneath him, your back hitting the mattress with a soft thump as he settled over you. 

He slid his tongue between your parted lips, turning your laughter into something breathless. Gods you would never have enough of him. You would drown in this man without hesitation, even if it meant never surfacing for air again. Nothing, absolutely nothing could compare to the way Xaden kissed you, like you were the only thing in this world that brought him peace.

A sharp knock broke the moment like shattering glass, and you and Xaden groaned in unison - you already knew who it was. “Sometimes his distance wielding is really inconvenient.” You murmured against Xaden’s lips. 

He pulled back to give you a soft smile that went straight into your box of favorites. “We’ll continue this later. We’ve got time.” He replied, getting off of you, only to pull you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you like he had no intention of letting go. “Come on in.” He called to Garrick. 

Garrick stepped in, closing the door behind him, a smile tugging at his lips when he spotted the two of you. “Cozy,” he remarked.

“Did everything go okay?” Xaden asked, ignoring the jab. His hand kept tracing slow, absent circles on your stomach.

He nodded, “They were a couple of hours late, but they got their present.” Garrick then reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope, his expression dimming. “They sent something back for us this time.” He tossed it to Xaden. 

Xaden picked it up, a frown already forming as he turned the envelope over in his hands. The paper crackled as he broke the seal.  

The change was instant. His whole body went rigid. In a single breath, the man you’d been laughing with vanished, and in his place was Xaden Riorson, the son of Fen Riorson, the leader of a secret revolution with the weight of Aretia on his shoulders. 

You had no idea what the letter said, but your stomach turned to stone. A cold pulse climbed your spine, and dread clawed its way up your throat. You pulled away from Xaden, your heart already fracturing as you searched his face. “What does it say?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.  

Xaden didn’t answer right away. When he looked up, his eyes met yours, and it hit you like a punch. Disbelief, hopelessness, duty, regret and underneath it all, that cursed, beautiful four letter word. “It’s from Tecarus,” he said, the words thick in his throat. “About the deal that was made when I was younger.” 

Your heart plummeted. It was like the floor had been ripped out from under you. 

“Deal? What deal?” Garrick asked from somewhere behind you. His voice sounded distant, like it was underwater, as the world tilted on its axis.  

“To marry Catrionia.” 

You should have known. It was too easy. Too good. You were too happy. If you’d learned anything in this life, it was that you didn’t get to have anything happy. It was always going to be taken away from you. 

Xaden saw it, felt it, you were unraveling. “I didn’t think - I thought when my father died it was off -” He reached for your hand. 

You flinched away before his fingers could touch yours. 

“Well, then tell him it's off.” Garrick said, like it was that easy. Like it didn’t feel like the sky was caving in. 

“It’s not that simple.” You said, your voice as raw as your breaking heart. 

“Why not?” Garrick asked, though his voice was quieter now, uncertainty creeping in.

You gave Xaden a small, broken smile, blinking hard against the tears. “Because if Xaden marries her, we get the luminary.” You swallowed, voice barely holding. “We can make enough weapons to protect our home.” 

Silence wrapped around the room like a noose. You could feel the war raging in Xaden, torn between his duty and his feelings for you. He cared about you, he cared about you so much. That was never the problem. 

But this was your home, and sometimes that beautiful, yet unforgiving word wasn’t enough. Not when people were dying. 

Xaden said your name, soft, like a prayer, and his voice was thick with so much emotion you couldn’t sort it all. But you knew what was coming. You knew.  

You were already shaking your head as you rose from his bed. “You should do it.” Liar. Don’t do it. “It’s what’s best for Aretia.” 

He surged to his feet. “I don’t give a fuck about Aretia if it means losing-” He reached for you again. 

You took another step back. Another inch of distance you didn’t want but needed. If he touched you, you’d fall apart. “You’re not losing me, and home comes first.” You tried to smile. It trembled and fell apart halfway.

This time when you stepped back, Xaden didn’t follow.

You stepped past Garrick, who stood frozen, eyes flicking between the two of you, helpless and hollow. “We can figure out another way-” He started, but even he didn’t sound convinced.  

“You know Tecarus won’t go for that.” Your voice cracked. You turned back to Xaden as the first tears spilled down your cheeks. “Protect our home. That’s what’s most important.” You felt yourself fracturing, splintering into shards you couldn’t hold together. Not here. Not in this room where ten minutes earlier he’d been holding you in his arms like you were the most precious thing in the world to him. “I’m going to go to Imogen’s, okay?” Your voice was faltering. “You two can . . . start working on the terms.” 

Xaden said your name again, his voice cracking on it - as broken, as lost as you were. 

You ran. 

You ran as if your body might shatter if you didn’t reach Imogen in time. As if distance could save you from the ache blooming in your chest. When you made it to her room, and she opened the door, you threw yourself in her arms, unable to hold yourself up any longer. 

“Woah - hey, what happened? Are you okay?” 

You opened your mouth, but no words came. Not a single sound. You just shook your head as the tears poured, hot and relentless, down your face. 

And then, through the bond - gentle and warm, like a balm on a wound - came Ailith’s voice. “You will be alright, my fierce one. You are not alone.” 

She was right. You weren’t alone. 

But your heart was gone, still in his hands. Hands that now had to belong to someone else. 

——————————

“I’m starting to think this is personal.” You said, spitting blood out of your mouth - and maybe a tooth? 

He scowled, pulled back, and swung. “You don’t deserve to be here, traitor.” He spat, yanking your head back so hard you were afraid for a second he snapped it. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” You rasped, sucking in a breath, and immediately regretting it. Yep. Ribs, definitely bruised. This guy really had some anger issues to work out. 

It was obvious now, this wasn’t about interrogation. This was their free pass to beat the shit out of you, and they were making the most of it. They hadn’t asked a single question, nothing about secrets, intel, or loyalty. Instead they had spent their time bruising up every inch of your body. It was so bad that even your squad had taken to protesting. 

They ignored them. 

Not that it mattered. No punch could compare to the pain of watching Xaden and Garrick leave every weekend, heading off to visit his fiancée. Like you’d never existed. Bile rose in your throat, but you weren’t sure if that was because of your injuries or the thought of Xaden and her. 

“Hold strong, fierce one. This is almost over.” Ailith’s voice spoke to you. She tried to keep her voice calm for you, but it was impossible to hide the underlying rage. She’d been keeping you sane during this. Well, her and your general numbness. 

Your friend leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. “Tell me,” he whispered. “How does it feel to know you’ve been abandoned? First your family. Now your boyfriend.” 

That stung. That stung more than you cared to admit. It was obvious to the entire quadrant that you and Xaden were no longer a thing. He wasn’t at your side always anymore. There were no more possessive touches. It had been months, and you couldn’t remember the last time he had smiled at you. The man you’d once always been able to depend on was now turning into a stranger. All you had left was Imogen, who probably wanted nothing to do with your depressive ass, and Garrick, caught in the middle, too loyal to both sides to choose one. Bodhi still checked in now and then, but it always felt . . . obligated. Like maybe Xaden had told him to. 

Because try as you might, you could still feel the protectiveness rolling off him every time you crossed paths. 

Not that it was doing much good now. Gods he’d be pissed if you made it out of this. 

“Personally, I think it’s what you deserve.” The man continued, his smug smile making you want to knock his fucking teeth out. 

“That is enough.” 

Ailith’s voice rang down the bond like thunder. 

So much for restraint. 

His fist froze mid air, held back to throw another punch and his eyes widened as he looked at you. 

A smirk tugged at your busted lips. “You forgot the one who’s still with me. And she’s as sick of your shit as I am.” 

Ailith’s voice spoke in your mind. “Tell that pitiful excuse for a rider that if he touches you again, I will tear the wings from his dragon’s back, and grind its bones into dust, Empyrean be damned.” 

“Pretty sure I don’t have to. He looks about two seconds away from pissing himself. What did you do?” 

“The blood of his dragon tastes foul,” Ailith purred, “But the satisfaction? Divine.” 

“Interrogation’s over. Get out.” He shot you a glare sharp enough to flay skin, then stormed out - door swinging open behind him like a white flag. 

Your head dropped forward, and the last of your strength drained away, leaving you weightless and aching. You felt a couple of your squadmates working at your bonds, but it was too much effort to try and keep your eyes open. “I’ve called for help.” Ailith murmured, her voice softer now, gentled by pride. “You did well, fierce one.” 

“That was fucked up.” Alastair muttered from your right. 

“They didn’t even ask anything,” Elara said, her voice tight with anger. You assumed they were the ones lifting you up. 

“I’ve got her.” 

“Tavis? How the hell did you get here-”

You let out a gasp of pain as Garrick picked you up into his arms. “Sorry, half-pint.” Garrick murmured, adjusting his grip as you winced. “I’m trying to be gentle.” 

You weren’t sure what caused it. It could have been the use of your nickname, the exhaustion, the pain . . . All you knew was that suddenly you couldn’t breathe. “It hurts, Garrick - all of it hurts.” Your voice cracked as hot tears slipped down your cheek. You buried your face in his neck, clinging to him with the only arm that still worked. It was all too much. 

“I know.” He said quietly, his voice strained with pain. “Let’s get you to the healers.” 

The next few hours were a blur. Even the healers seemed shocked at your appearance and got to work. Garrick didn’t leave your side, but others joined him, Imogen first, then Bodhi, all looking furious. 

However, none of them came close to the storm that tore through later that night.

Dinner had just been served. Nolon was, unsurprisingly, still missing when the doors slammed open and shadows erupted. Xaden stormed in with absolute fury in his eyes, and once he spotted you, it deepened. People scrambled back from him, making his path to you easy. “Who?” His voice was low, deadly calm, jaw clenched, shoulders coiled like a snake waiting to strike.

Of all people, he was the last you could handle seeing right now, too much pain, too much unfinished. “It doesn’t matter.” You whispered, turning away from him. 

“Yes it does.” His fingers touched your chin, and you flinched away. 

You felt the hurt rolling off of him. “Ailith took care of it.” 

“It’s my job to take care of-”

“No it’s not.” You told him, reaching down to yank the collar of your shirt down so his mark, the scar you bore for him, was on display. “My job is to protect you, and I did that by staying strong in there so I can be alive to do it another day.” 

You heard someone gasp, but since none of them knew about the scar until right now, you couldn’t be sure who it was. 

Xaden’s eyes flared as his gaze darted to that exposed skin. The reminder of what you shared. Then he looked back up to meet your gaze. “I gave you space, because I figured that’s what you wanted.” He stepped closer, his voice hardening. “That’s over. I’m not letting anything like this happen to you again.” 

It was what you wanted. How could he not understand that? Couldn’t he understand how badly it hurt? “Xaden, I don’t want-”

“I don’t care.” He snapped, his voice sharp enough to cut.

Your mouth dropped in disbelief. 

“I’m keeping you safe, whether it’s with me or one of the others.” Xaden said, his voice leaving no room for argument. Before you could even begin to protest though, he had started walking away. 

“You’re being an asshole.” You muttered. 

“I’ll be whatever I need to be as long as it keeps you alive.” Xaden replied over his shoulder. 

What you needed him to be was the one thing he couldn’t. 

Almost as if he’d heard the thought, Xaden turned back. The look on his face, raw, exposed, stole your breath. 

Then he was gone. 

You wanted to run after him. But what good was chasing a future already promised to someone else? 

——————————

“How long do we have to wait?” You asked, kicking a rock forward 

Garrick kicked it back to you. “I say we give it another hour then take off.” 

“Thirty minutes.” Xaden said, tense and unreadable as he stared at the sky like it had personally offended him.  

“Won’t see any argument here.” You mumbled, returning the rock to Garrick who grinned at you. 

You hadn’t wanted to come. But everyone Xaden trusted to stay with you was tied up with flight maneuvers or training. So here you were - outside the wards, wasting time with Garrick and Xaden, waiting on fliers who clearly weren’t showing. You glared daggers at Xaden’s back.

“Looking at me like that won’t get them here any faster.” Xaden said, still not turning around.

“I hate when he does that.” You said, ignoring him and looking at Garrick instead. 

He wiggled his eyebrow at you. “It’s creepy, isn’t it?” 

Ailith’s voice cut through the conversation. “The fliers have arrived.” 

You stood up, tension in your bones as you heard the wingbeats of the gryphons started to fill the air. You had been on one of these meetups, but they still made you anxious. 

You weren’t the only one on edge. Garrick and Xaden both stood stiff as boards.

But as all the fliers landed, a new emotion started showing itself. 

The tension snapped into something sharper - anger. 

You glanced over at Garrick, confused, but his jaw was tight, and his eyes locked, as if avoiding looking at you at all. 

Then you looked at Xaden. Same fury, same focus, locked on one particular flier.

A beautiful one. 

But you didn’t let your gaze linger on her, instead turning back to Xaden. It was easy enough to read all the emotions past the anger. Duty. Shame. And beneath it all, disgust. 

Why would he . . . 

“Xaden.” She said, with a blinding smile. She went straight to Xaden, her black hair shining in the light as she pressed a kiss to his cheek like they weren’t surrounded by silence thick with tension. 

A kiss he clearly didn’t want. 

And everything fell into place. You now knew exactly who she was. 

“What the hell are you doing here, Catrionia?” Xaden asked, pushing her back without hesitation. 

“She insisted.” A voice answered, stepping forward. “Since you haven’t visited except for these drops the past month.” The resemblance to Catrionia was unmistakable. Same eyes, same cold smile. Definitely family. She glanced down the line of you, pausing on your face. “I don’t know this one.” She said, raising an eyebrow. 

“And you don’t need to.” Xaden snapped. 

But you spoke your name over him anyway. 

His jaw tightened.

Catrionia’s eyes snapped to you, sharp and calculating. Menace curled off her like smoke. 

You raised an eyebrow. Oh. Oh. You felt her. Slithering along the edges of your thoughts, pressing like icy fingers against the door of your mind. 

“Say the word and I will flay her alive.” Ailith growled, her fury shaking the forest itself. 

You expected to feel rage. Hatred. Jealousy. But instead, all you felt was clarity. 

Because you could feel how Xaden felt about her - and there was nothing. No love. No longing. Just a sense of duty, brittle and tired. 

And from her? She saw him not as a partner, but a conquest. 

You couldn’t have him, but at least you knew he loved you. 

That would be enough. It would have to be. 

“Xaden’s mentioned you.” Catriona said, her smirk slicing through your thoughts.. “Not very often, though.” 

Well yeah, you wouldn’t talk about your ex to your fiancée either. Then you felt her again, playing at the corner of your mind. “Fliers do mind work, right?” You asked, glancing at Garrick. “What can she do?” 

Catrionia’s eyes flashed. “That’s none of your-”

“She can intensify emotions, but only ones you already have.” Xaden cut in, his eyes locked on you like he expected an explosion. 

But you wouldn’t. Because the emotions you were feeling right now were regret, and pity. “You want me jealous, angry, but you can’t get there.” You offered her a pitying smile. It made her seethe.  

“I’m not doing-”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, you are. I can feel you scraping at my shields.” 

She narrowed her eyes. 

You continued anyway. “I may not be able to manipulate emotions, but I can sense them. That means when I look at Xaden, I can feel everything he feels about you. And when I look at you, I can feel everything you feel about him.” 

You could feel the shock radiating from Xaden and Garrick, but you ignored that for now. 

“So no, I’m not jealous. I already know where I stand with him, and it’s a hell of a lot closer than you’ll ever be.” 

Catrionia might get his ring, might get his last name, but you had his love. 

And that was worth everything.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to check on Ailith before she decides to make you her dinner.” You said, and turned your back, walking away from the party. 

“That was almost as entertaining to watch as you taking down those cadets at threshing.” Ailith rumbled, full of pride. “Even Sgaeyl is amused.” 

Well, that might be your biggest accomplishment to date. 

“You have a second signet?” 

You hadn’t even heard him come up behind you, but you weren’t surprised that he did. You turned around to face Xaden, wrapping your arms around yourself. The bold girl you’d been moments earlier crumbled inside of you, buried under the weight of everything you couldn’t say. You nodded. 

He looked hurt, “and you didn’t tell me?” 

You didn’t respond. 

Xaden took a step forward, and gods you wanted to back away, but he was like an addiction, a craving you could never detox from. “When did you manifest?” He asked, those onyx eyes drilling into your soul. 

Of course, the one question that hurt the most. You stared past him, into the trees, willing the memory not to swallow you whole. “The first night we . . .” You swallowed, pain tightening your throat. “At first I thought it was me, just how much I felt, but then I realized . . . it wasn’t. It was hard to differentiate between my emotions and other people’s at first. Not so much now.” 

“This whole time . . . “ Xaden stepped closer, his voice caught between fury and disbelief. The two of you were in touching distance now. “When you told me to marry Cat - you knew that I love -”

“Don’t say it,” you whispered, stepping back as heat flooded your eyes, tears you didn’t want to shed. “Please don’t say it, Xaden.” 

“But you know it!” He insisted, and you inhaled sharply as he grabbed your elbows, tugging you back to him. “If you know it, why can’t I say it?!” 

“Because then I can’t pretend!” You choked out. “I can’t lie to myself if I know you know!” You swallowed, willing yourself to get back under control before speaking again. “When you stand on that altar in however many years,” you rasped, “and I’m sitting in the crowd, watching, because you had to choose her . . .” Your fists struck his chest, once. “You’ll still be everything to me. Always.” Another blow, softer this time. “And I’ll pretend. I’ll pretend you don’t know. That you pushed it down. That you’re doing your duty like I told you to, because that’s the only way I’ll survive it.” 

Xaden’s hands cupped your cheeks. “Don’t I get a say? You won’t even let me try to choose you.” 

You shook your head, the weight of your love for him pressing hard against your ribs, “because I know you would, and I’m never going to make you choose between Aretia and me.” 

Xaden leaned forward, his forehead resting against yours. 

Every instinct screamed at you to melt into him, to let him hold you together like he always did, to forget Aretia, the war, the cost - but you didn’t. You couldn’t. 

Aretia had to come first. 

He sighed, his thumbs brushing away tears you didn’t know you were shedding. “I can read intentions.” He hesitated, as if saying the words alone might cost him. “It’s my second signet.” 

He could read intentions? Of a person? Gods. If he could do that . . . it was practically an inntinnsic. It would get him killed. 

“You’re the only one that knows.” He added. 

Your heart stuttered. He hadn’t told anyone? Not even Garrick? You clutched his shirt tighter, like maybe that could hold the truth between you. “I won’t say a word. Xaden, I swear no one will know-”

“I know.” Xaden interrupted. “I trust you. I’m telling you because that’s why I’m not on my godsdamn knees right now fighting for you . . . because I already know you’ve decided you’re not worth choosing. Not over Aretia. Not even for me.” 

He was right. There was nothing he could say that would make you change your mind. Your home was worth so much more than you. 

Xaden pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, and you closed your eyes and let the emotion behind it soak into your bones. “I wish it could be different.” You whispered. 

He exhaled, long and quiet. “I wish you’d let it.” 

——————————

The air felt wrong. 

Not in any obvious way, but in the prickling, bone-deep way that told you something was about to go sideways. 

The scary part though was that there was no reason for it to be. There was no rogue activity, no wards that had been breached as far as you knew. It was just another weapons drop, routine as it came. So why did your spine feel like it was trying to crawl out of your skin? 

Why did you feel so anxious? 

You glanced over at Xaden and Garrick who were having their own conversation a few feet away. They didn’t seem to notice anything odd. Was it you? Were you being paranoid? 

“It is not just you, fierce one.” Ailith’s voice reassured down the bond. 

Your stomach dropped. If Ailith felt it too, then it wasn’t nerves. It was something real, and real meant dangerous. 

“You’ll let me know if you see anything weird?” You asked her. 

She scoffed. “You know you don’t need to ask.”

You turned your attention back to Xaden and Garrick, tapping your fingers against your thighs until you couldn’t control it anymore. “How much longer?” 

They both turned to you, Garrick rolling his eyes. “We’ve been here for ten minutes, half-pint. They’re not supposed to get here for another fifteen.” 

But Xaden, Xaden knows your body better than anyone, and his eyes shift to your hands, still tapping against your thighs. He looks up and meets your gaze, jaw tensing. “What's wrong?” 

Before you can even respond, Ailith’s voice enters your mind again, sharp and urgent. “The fliers have arrived.” 

You brush off his concerned look. The fliers are here. You can finish this drop and get the hell out of here. You forced your voice steady. “Nothing, let’s hurry up.” 

Then the fliers stepped through the trees, and every alarm in your body went off. 

You’ve been to enough of these drops to recognize the small groups of fliers you always end up trading with. The groups might change, but there’s always at least one familiar face. 

Here there are none. 

Then the emotions. You cracked the door open to Ailith’s power and they came rushing in. Hunger. Greed. Thrill. As you looked at each of them in turn though, one emotion stood out among all the others. 

Malice. 

You glanced at Xaden, but he wasn’t looking at you. You knew his body too though, and you watched as his hands clenched into fists, showing the underlying tension. You had no doubts he was reading their intentions, and with the way he shifted, a step to the left, between you and them, you knew. He didn’t like what he saw. “Who are you? Where’s Syrena?” 

You stood up, letting the weeds by the trees creep forward towards the unwelcome company, while you watched Xaden’s shadows do the same. 

“She got a little . . . tied up,” said the man in the middle, his grin all teeth and venom. “Sent some of us on without her.” 

Xaden’s arms crossed over his chest, and his voice was like a blade. “She knows we only deal with her.” 

“Yeah, well . . . we’re not here to make deals.” He said, taking a step forward, slow and smug. “We’re here to take. Whether it be weapons . . .” His eyes drifted to all three of you, pausing once he met yours. “Or lives.” 

For a second, you felt it, Xaden’s rage boiling in your chest like it was your own, then - 

“Now!” Xaden barked, and the world exploded into motion. 

Shadows surged, vines lashed, and Garrick’s gusts howled like war drums. 

It was a blur after that. You and Xaden tripped them with creeping weeds and writhing shadows while Garrick hurled them backward with blasts of wind. You thought it was going to be quick. The three of you moved like you were one weapon, and the six of them didn’t stand a chance. 

Then a flash of brown - 

A rune arched through the air and struck near your feet. 

Pain detonated inside your skull, sharp and blinding. A high-pitched ring screamed through your head. 

You crumpled, hands flying to your temples, your knees slamming into the dirt. The world twisted and wobbled. The sound blocked out everything else. All you could think about was ending that pain, now. You forced your eyes open only to find yourself blanketed in a wall of dense, coiled, and trembling shadows. 

Xaden. 

Even now, with all six of those fliers out there, he was protecting you. 

You could barely think, but your heart cracked open all over again. You had to make it stop. You couldn’t do anything until this debilitating ache was gone, and you had to protect Xaden. He was going to burn himself out if he had to keep this shield over you and fight. 

You clawed your way through the fog in your mind, searching for the sparkling bond between you and Ailith, and you yanked. 

The roots obeyed your call, inching closer and closer through the Earth until they found the rune and wrapped around it. The power that held it together was strong . . . 

But so were you. 

You dug deep, teeth clenched, fingers curled into the soil. You picked at the seams, found its weakest joints, and - 

Snap. 

The silence after the ringing was louder than the pain. You dropped, boneless, heart thudding in your ears.

“FIERCE ONE!” Ailith’s voice pounded into your skull.

“I’m okay,” you rasped, or maybe you thought you said it. You allowed yourself one breath, then two. “Are you coming?” 

“The trees are too thick, but we’re getting as close as possible. Sgaeyl has suggested burning the forest down-”

“No,” your voice cut in fast, firm. “We don’t need the attention. We’ve got this.” You staggered to your feet, bracing against a nearby tree as the world tilted, then steadied. 

“Say the word,” Ailith hissed, “and the whole place burns.” 

You didn’t doubt her, or Sgaeyl. Even Chradh would probably love to assist. So if you didn’t want this whole operation to be found out, you had to get out there. Now. Taking one more deep breath, you took a step through the shadows, feeling them caress your skin as you did. 

Garrick was holding off two of the fighters. Xaden had three. That wasn’t going to work. 

You cracked the door wider to Ailith’s power, the ground answering with a guttural tremor. Roots erupted from the ground, fast, violent and hungry. Two fliers, one near Garrick, and one flanking Xaden, were snared mid-swing. You clenched your fists, and the vines did the rest.  

Their necks made the same sound the rune did. 

Xaden glanced at you, a flicker, but the relief in his eyes gutted you. Then the shadows behind you collapsed inward, pooling like ink before surging forward. They wrapped around his last attacker’s throat like a noose. 

Xaden didn’t hesitate. One step forward. A blade driven clean through the chest. 

Garrick dispatched his with brutal efficiency and moved to your side. 

You closed the door on Ailith’s power, your skin hot with overuse, and fought every urge you had not to fall to the ground. 

“Took you long enough,” Garrick muttered, breathing hard, but there was a grin tugging at his mouth. 

“Fuck you,” you said, still breathless, but you gave him a weak smile. 

Garrick smirked, placing a hand on your shoulder as his eyes swept over you. “You okay?” 

You nodded. “Will be. As soon as we find out how those assholes knew we would be here.” 

Then everything fractured.

A twig snapped. 

Xaden’s head jerked toward the sound - toward you. 

Shadows burst from him in an instant. One set yanked Garrick back. Another lashed past you, but - 

-Xaden didn’t wait. 

He tackled you, a hard blur of motion and panic. 

Two roars echoed through the forest, loud and unmistakable ones of your dragons. 

The two of you hit the ground hard and rolled. Your ribs ached. Dirt filled your mouth. You clutched him close, not knowing what had happened, just that you still had him, until the world stopped spinning and he was under you. 

“Xaden?” 

He didn’t respond.

You scrambled off of him. “Xaden, you fucking idiot! Why would you-”

He wasn’t moving. 

“No. No. No. No-” The words cracked out of you like glass breaking.

You touched his face, fingers trembling as they pushed back sweat-damp hair, the other resting on his hip, right under his armor. You couldn’t find a wound, any blood, but hidden in his hair, you found a bump. You dropped your hand to his neck, searching - 

There. It was there. Fainter than you wanted, but it was there. 

He was alive. Unconscious, but alive. You were going to kill him when he woke up. He was going to get the biggest fucking lecture . . . 

But then awareness creeped into your bones that something still wasn’t right. 

Your hand was wet. 

You pulled it from his hip, the red staining your skin, and glanced frantically at Garrick who had bypassed the two remaining fliers Xaden had killed to pick up a dagger, its silver blade covered in red. “Garrick . . .” You said his name like a prayer, a whisper, even though it felt like you were screaming. “Garrick!” 

He was at your side in a second, eyes locking on the wound your hand was pressing over. “Shit, shit, shit -” 

You shoved the panic down, swallowed it whole. There wasn’t time. Xaden was alive. He was still alive, and you had to get him out of here to a mender fast. You were responsible for him and you’d be damned if you let Malek take him like this. “Garrick, you have to get him out of here. Now.” 

Garrick shook his head. “Xaden will fucking kill me if I leave you here-”

“And I’ll kill you if you don’t take him right now. Do you understand me? For the love of Amari, get him out of here and to a mender now.” Your voice was sharp as steel. “Don’t argue. Go.” 

He stared at you a second longer, but then nodded. 

Together, you lifted Xaden and helped get him onto Chradh so Garrick could get him to a mender faster. Garrick mounted behind him. 

You watched as they flew off. Sgaeyl followed close behind. 

You watched your heart vanish into the sky. 

Only then, when he was gone, when the adrenaline burned off, and your body remembered the pain did you collapse. 

Ailith, settled beside you, folding her wing over your body to shield you from the world, as if even the forest didn’t deserve to witness your unraveling. 

“I told him not to choose me.” You whispered, voice cracking. “I told him, and then he -”

“Maybe, fierce one,” Ailith said softly, her breath a warm balm against your numb skin. “Choosing you is not a choice he gets to make. Maybe his heart has already made it for him.” 

She leaned closer, her voice a gentle hush. “Just as your heart has chosen him.” 

——————————

As you stumbled into the healer’s quadrant, dozens of hours later, limbs aching and mind frayed, you couldn’t help but be thankful it was the weekend. That meant no classes. No Battle Brief. You couldn’t have sat still through one even if you tried. Not without knowing how he was. 

Your eyes scanned the room frantically, not unlike they had right after you had crossed the parapet so long ago. It took you seconds to spot Garrick, standing sentinel at the end of Xaden’s bed. 

You didn't even think. You bolted, shoving through any people that were in your way. “Is he okay?” You choked out, your heart hammering so hard in your chest it felt like it might shatter your ribs. 

Garrick pulled you into a tight, grounding hug. “He’s okay.” He whispered into your hair.

Relief swept through your body in a wave, and the weight of it would’ve sent you to your knees if Garrick hadn’t been holding you. 

He was okay. He was okay. 

You didn’t realize you were crying until Garrick pulled back and gave you the space to wipe your face. His expression softened as he glanced back at the bed. “They gave him something to knock him out. He would’ve been awake by now otherwise.” 

You exhaled shakily. “Probably a good idea.” You said with a weak smile. “He’d be storming out of here against healer orders if he could.” 

“Bastard nearly took my head off trying to argue with the mender.” Garrick looked back at you then, a small frown forming on his face. “Did you run into any trouble on the way back?” 

You shook your head. No patrols, no enemy sightings - just the chaos in your own head, which felt more dangerous than anything else out there.

“Come on. You’ve been flying for hours. Sit.” He led you to the chair beside Xaden’s bed, and you couldn’t even find the energy to protest. 

Then you made yourself look at him. 

He looked peaceful. It reminded you of the nights that you’d fallen asleep together, and the rare moments when you’d woken up before him. Gods how you missed it. The weight of the world gone from his face as he dreamed, his arms holding you close like his favorite pillow. You’d almost never seen him like that again. 

You couldn’t help it. You’d almost lost him. With trembling fingers, you reached for his hand, covering it with your own and giving it a squeeze. 

Garrick’s voice broke the silence. “We need to have a talk.” 

Well, you had wondered how long it would take him. 

You didn’t look up, instead you kept tracing the lines of Xaden’s knuckles with your thumb. 

You heard him let out a sigh, and then he slouched down in the seat on the other side of Xaden, stretching out his legs. “You two, especially you, are being stupid and stubborn.” He said, his voice tired. 

“You know that’s a trait we share.” You said, shrugging. 

“And normally that only gives me a mild headache. Lately it makes me want to bash your heads together.” 

You looked at him then, and felt a stab of shame. Garrick had been caught in the middle of you and Xaden’s mess from the beginning, and now this. You knew that it had to suck. “I’m sorry.” You said quietly. 

“He didn’t hesitate when that knife started flying toward you.” Garrick’s voice was level, but there was a tightness under it. 

“I know.” 

“He’d do it every time. You know that right?” 

You swallowed. You wish you didn’t know that. 

“So this whole, choosing Aretia over you thing? It’s a lie you’re telling yourself. He’s never going to do it.” 

“Taking a knife for me isn’t the same as choosing a whole province -”

“It is when he could have died.” 

The sharp edge in Garrick’s voice cut you off. That tone, the one he usually saved for idiot cadets who couldn’t follow orders, startled you into silence. 

“That dagger was meant for you.” He said, quieter now, but more dangerous. “And he still took it. That’s choosing you over everything.”  

You looked away, throat burning. He was right. You knew he was right. Xaden would have taken that dagger for you over and over again without hesitation, like you would for him. “I can’t - I don’t know how to make him stop.” 

“For the love of Amari, you can’t!” 

You jumped. Garrick never yelled at you.

He scrubbed both hands over his face, dragging in a breath like he needed to stay calm. This time when he spoke his voice was more even. “He’s in love with you. He has been for ages. I know you know that, and I know he knows that.” He leaned forward, his gaze steady and unrelenting. “I want you to ask yourself one thing: can you make yourself stop loving him?” 

The question hit you like a slap. It wasn’t something you’d ever considered. You didn’t have to. There wasn’t a version of this life, or any other, where you didn’t love him. You were always going to. 

Your voice cracked as the truth clawed its way out of you. “Why . . . Why would I even try?” 

“So you wouldn’t have to be miserable for the rest of your life, because half-pint-” his eyes softened. “That’s what you’re resigning yourself to if you can’t make yourself stop loving him.” 

You glanced down at Xaden again, tracing the lines of his face with your eyes. Gods he was so beautiful, too beautiful to be hurt because of you. Your heart stuttered at the thought of even trying not to love him. 

“I - I can’t.” The words burst from you, raw and unguarded. “Garrick, it'd be like losing a lung. I wouldn’t be able to breathe-”

He gave a grim nod. “Maybe you’re okay living like that. But are you okay with making him live like that?” 

The words sank like a dagger straight into your ribs. 

“You’re responsible for him right?” Garrick said, pointing to where the scar on your chest was hidden. “Then stop being selfish,” His voice didn’t rise, but it cut. “Stop pretending this is about duty. Start thinking about his happiness. Because I’ll tell you something right now, Xaden is fucking miserable without you.” 

The air vanished from your lungs. You never wanted that. You never meant to make him miserable. You thought . . . you were helping. Instead of being torn between you and Aretia, you took yourself out of the equation. You convinced yourself that he would move on. That he’d settle, find some measure of peace with Cat. 

But it had been months, and you knew he still felt the same way about you. It hadn’t dimmed at all. 

He still loved you. He hadn’t moved on. 

And neither had you. 

“And I know you’re miserable without him. Godsdamn you two are my best friends and deserve happiness more than anyone I know. Fucking take it.” 

“Gods will you two stop arguing already?” 

The voice was rough, gravelly with exhaustion, but you’d know it anywhere. 

Xaden’s eyes were open, and he was looking at you with a softness you didn’t deserve. 

Relief tumbled through you like a wave. Gods for a moment you thought you’d never see those eyes again. It took everything in you not to crawl into that bed and bury yourself in him, but you hadn’t earned that. 

“I wouldn’t call it an argument.” You said, forcing lightness into your tone. You glanced at Garrick, gave him a faint smile, then squeezed Xaden’s hand. “More like a lecture. Fitting since you’re about to get a hell of one.” 

Xaden groaned. “Figures.” 

“Well, honey bear, I’m going to leave you to that.” He said, reaching out to squeeze Xaden’s shoulder. “Have to tell everyone why they haven’t seen your pretty face today.” 

“Or you could not.” Xaden replied. 

“And miss the chance of lining up more lectures for you? No way.” He replied, but then the teasing look on his eyes faded somewhat and his tone turned more serious. “I’m glad you’re okay, man.” 

Xaden gave him a nod, the kind that said more than words ever could. “Me too, brother.” 

Garrick ruffled your hair as he passed, earning an eye roll that you didn’t really mean. His hand lingered for a moment longer on your shoulder, and then he leaned in close and muttered just for you, “Fix it.” 

Then you and Xaden were alone. 

There was silence for a minute while you stared after Garrick, but then your breath caught as Xaden threaded his fingers through yours. Your eyes fluttered closed at the sensation. You couldn’t remember the last time he’d held your hand like that. You had forgotten how perfectly his fingers slotted between yours, like they’d been made to fit. How could you have ever thought you could give this up forever? 

A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it. You swallowed hard, trying to hold back the rest, but Xaden squeezed your hand, grounding you. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, his voice soft in the morning light. 

You laughed. A choked, incredulous sound. You turned back to him, a look of disbelief all over your face. “Did you seriously ask me that after you took a damn dagger for me?” 

He shrugged. The bastard shrugged. “He was aiming for you. I stopped it from happening. I’ll be fine as soon as I get out of this damn -” Xaden then started moving, slinging his legs over, and you didn’t miss the wince when he did. 

You shot to your feet, placing your free hand on his chest. “Xaden Riorson.” You snapped. “You have been stabbed. Keep. Your. Ass. In. This. Bed.” You said, pushing on his chest with enough force to make him lay back down. 

Xaden sighed, and closed his eyes like a man surrendering to the inevitable. “All right. Go ahead and let me have it. Tell me how pissed you are.” 

“Pissed?” you echoed, your voice rising. “Pissed?! Xaden I was terrified!” 

The words burst out, and once they did, the dam broke. 

His eyes opened again, watching, listening, and you couldn’t stop. 

“You have no idea how that felt. You could have died! Gods, I couldn’t breathe when Garrick flew off with you! What if he didn’t get you there fast enough? What if you died? What if I lost you, and it was my fault -”

Xaden shook his head. “It wouldn’t have been-”

“Don’t bullshit me.” You snapped, your voice breaking. “You almost died for me. Despite everything I’ve done to you. Despite the fact that I told you to put Aretia first over and over again-”

“And I’d do it again.” Xaden interrupted, firm. “And again, and again, if it keeps you breathing.” Xaden sat up, using his grip on your hand to tug you closer. “I’m not living in a world without you.” 

Gods the way he said that. Like it wasn’t a decision - just the truth. How had you ever doubted him? How had you convinced yourself he’d choose anything, but you, when you’d give up everything for him? 

You sat down on the bed, bringing his hand to your chest so his knuckles brushed against where your scar for him was. “And you think I’m okay living without you?” 

Xaden’s eyes dropped to where his knuckles brushed the fabric hiding the mark that tied you to him. Then he met your eyes again, and the flash of grief you saw there nearly shattered you. “Isn’t that what you’ve been trying to do?” 

You didn’t want to admit it, but he was right. You had been trying to push him out of your life without even realizing it. You thought it was for a noble reason, making him keep his focus on Aretia instead of you, but . . . a part of it was hoping that if you kept him at a distance, it would dull the ache of missing him. But it hadn’t. It never would. 

And you didn’t think you had the strength to push him away again. 

You shook your head, bringing his hand to your lips and pressing a soft kiss to it. “Not anymore.” 

Xaden’s hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away your tears, gentle, reverent. “What are you saying, love?” 

“I told you once not to say that,” you whispered, your breath catching.

The smile he gave you, soft, wicked, and adoring, should’ve come with a warning. It melted every part of you, and the box in your mind, the one that stored all of your favorite smiles of his, cracked open after the longest time of being shut. “Yeah, I’m not hiding it anymore. I love you. And I’m done pretending I don’t. I’m ending the deal with Poromiel. I won’t spend another moment allied with people who threatened you, and I sure as hell won’t marry that throne-chasing manipulative viper.” He said, and you couldn’t help but let out a strangled laugh. “So the engagement is off, no matter what you’re about to-”

“-I love you too.” You blurted, cutting him off. “Gods, I love you so damn much, and I can’t take another day not being able to call you mine-” 

He didn’t let you finish. Xaden’s hand slid from your cheek into your hair and pulled you into him, his mouth crashing into yours like it had been aching for years. 

Oh gods. You had almost forgotten. You’d almost forgotten how perfect his lips were. How they obliterated every thought from your mind. 

How they felt like home. 

You clutched him closer as he deepened the kiss, desperate to keep him there as you let yourself drown in him, the mint and leather smell, the heat of his body, the delicious taste of him. And you couldn’t help but ask yourself, how could you have ever let him go? 

He slipped his tongue in your mouth, and you moaned,  which caused the horrible reaction of him pulling away. He didn’t go far though, his lips still brushing yours as he spoke. “You make that noise again, and we’re going to traumatize half the Healer’s Quadrant.” 

You leaned forward, nipping at his bottom lip and grinning at the growl that he made in response. It heated your whole body. “Mhmm, promise?” 

Xaden shook his head for a moment, and the smile he gave you would have made you collapse if he wasn’t already pretty much holding you up. “You’re such fucking trouble.” He murmured, and then distracted you with kisses down your throat. 

Gods maybe you should’ve helped him sneak out of here before you had this conversation. 

This time when he pulled away, your eyes were closed, but you opened them again when his gentle fingers found your chin, tilting your head to look at him. “Before you go sweet talk a Healer to get me out of here so I can take you back to your room and make up for months of not fucking you, I want to make something clear.” 

Gods, he was going to destroy you, and you couldn’t wait. You bit your lip, nodding for him to continue.  

“You’re not leaving me again.” he said, his voice low, but unyielding. “Not for Aretia. Not for another man -”

“As if anyone could-” 

He silenced you with a thumb to your bottom lip. 

“Not even for Malek’s godsdamned doorstep. I will follow you. Always. You are mine, love. I won’t let anything take you away from me again. Especially not you. Understand?” 

Your heart felt like it was going to explode out of your chest at the sincerity in his tone. There was no doubt that he meant every word he said, and honestly? Being by Xaden’s side for the rest of your life? Rebuilding your home together like you’d always wanted to? 

You couldn’t imagine anything happier. 

“Yours,” you whispered. “Until the end of time, Xaden Riorson.”

[angstywaifu]

Fourth Wing Boys Head Cannons - Accidental/Unplanned Pregnancy

These are based around the battle at the end of Iron Flame. So if you have not read Iron Flame, the below will contain spoilers for some of our boys.

Masterlist | Support Me

Garrick

He would be as still as a statue. You aren’t even sure he’s even breathing as he looks down at you wide eyed. You were both on the tonic, but clearly there must have been a faulty batch. The healers were adamant. You were pregnant.

After a few moments he’d snap out of it, brow furrowing as he thinks everything over in his head. “Are you sure? Did you get-“ you cut him off with a nod, which is all he needs to shut his mouth and nod.

You could tell what he was thinking. This was no time to be having a child. Not in the midst of a rebellion. Not a rebellion you both had prominent parts in. Not when Xaden needed him.

After a few tense moments of Garrick being stoney faced and reserved, a small smile would start to pull at the corners of his mouth. Which honestly surprised you. Before you Garrick wasn’t really the relationship kind of guy. You even falling into that category a few times till another rider had showed interest after you were both sent to Samara.

“Really picked the perfect time to fall pregnant didn’t you?” He teases before to swat his arm, his usual booming laugh breaking through the tension that was now nowhere to be seen.

Despite the teasing joke you could tell he was nervous, worried and unsure. Especially as he pulls you against him, resting his head atop yours as it rests against his chest. His heart beating erratically underneath, a start contrast to calm demeanour he was trying to output.

Bodhi

He drops whatever he was holding, staring at you with shock as he goes utterly still. Wide eyed, mouth open as he just looks at you.

He goes to talk multiple times but keeps shutting his mouth, clearly unsure what to say. Eventually starting to pace back and forth till you grasp his hand.

His eyes snap to yours, some of the panic dissipating ever so slightly as he relaxes at your touch, the small circles you rub onto the back of his hand with your thumb grounding him.

His free hand comes up to run through his black wavy hair. “You’re sure? Like 100% sure?” He asks nervously.

You nod up at him, his eyes going wide again, but you note the corners of his mouth pulling up. You know the nervousness and panic comes from the rebellion. It’s not ideal timing. But now there’s not much you can do.

Panic flares again in Bodhi’s eyes, his hand tightening around yours. “Xaden’s going to kill me”

Xaden

it’s not often you see Xaden caught out or surprised. In fact you can’t remember ever seeing him like that. And yet here he is, staring at you, still as a statue. Not a single emotion or reaction detectable on his face. Almost like he was expecting the news.

“Fuck.” He finally says before walking over to you, his eyes glued on your stomach which currently shows no signs of the baby inside.

You can see him thinking over everything in his head. Every possibility and scenario playing out.

“You have to promise to not be reckless anymore. I can’t risk loosing you two. Ok?” His words coming out almost like a command, but there’s that slight hint of worry that softens his words. You know he just wants to protect you, and that you’ll definitely be tacking a back seat going forward.

Brennan

He pinches the bridge of his nose, pacing back and forth as he mutters to himself. It reminds you so much of Violet and how she recites facts to calm herself and focus.

Back and forth, back and forth, you’re sure he’s going to wear a track in the floor at this rate. You reach out and grab his hand to stop him.

His amber eyes instantly soften as he looks at you. “I was doing the thing, wasn’t I?” He asks as he purses his lips, knowing he slipped into planning mode. You nod at him and smile. “Yeah, you kinda did.”

He smiles down at you, and instantly you feel like everything is going to be ok. Is it good timing? Gods no. Especially with the Venin advancing on Navarre. And especially now they know Brennan is alive.

“We’ll make it work. We always do.” He tells you softly, reaching up and caressing your cheek.

Dain

This man is in denial. How could this happen? You were both on the tonic. And that tonic has never failed. Every logical situation runs through his head. There’s no way this could have happened. Unless….

“Did you stop taking the tonic?” He asks, tones almost accusing as he walks up to you, a hand raised towards your face. He lowers it wicking when he sees the anger on your face, answering his question immediately.

He would be spiraling. In a matter of weeks he’s gone from being the golden child, helping to get rid of the marked ones. And now here he was in Aretia, fighting against everything he’s always known, and now you’re pregnant.

He reaches out and takes your hands, grasping them in his as he lets out a shaky breath. “Really took disappointing my dad to a whole new level didn’t I?”

Sawyer

He would be shocked, looking at you like he doesn’t believe you. Like the words didn’t just leave your lips. But they did. You were pregnant with his child.

Despite the seriousness of the situation you were all in he would embrace you immediately.

“You’re not mad?” You ask him as he pulls away. “Gods no. Is it terrible timing? Probably, but we’ll make it work.”

Which feels like it won’t as you sit next to his bed, his leg now missing as you grip onto his hand like a lifeline. Everyone else had gone, leaving just you with him. None of them aware of what was looming over you.

He lightly squeezes your hand, your eyes snapping to his as he lazily smiles at you. You engulf him in a hug, completely forgetting about his injury. You start sobbing all the thoughts tumbling around your head. Sawyer just embraces you tighter, whispering you’ll make it work. It has to. Especially with the ring he wears on a chain around his neck. Waiting for the perfect moment.

Ridoc

He literally thinks you’re joking, trying to pull some prank on him like he does to literally everyone else. But once he sees the way you’re looking at him he goes silent. Ridoc who is never silent. And yet here you are taking the words right out of his mouth.

“Holy shit you’re not joking are you?” He finally asks you. When you shake your head at him he gets so excited.

It might not be the best time with everything going on, but he’s too excited to care right now.

He runs out the door to find Sawyer screaming “I’m going to be a dad!”

So much for keeping that quiet. The whole of Aretia knows with how louds he’s yelling and screaming.

[dreamdragonkadia]

would you consider writing a jealous xaden riorson? please andd thank youuu 🥹🥹

I thought about writing this into a spicy scene, but I am so out of practice that I didn't want to mess it up. x.riorson x reader

You hadn’t thought to bring it up. Not because you were hiding anything—but because it just... hadn’t mattered. It had been before becoming a rider. Before the Gauntlet. Before Threshing. Before Xaden Riorson had started looking at you like the world might crack in two if you didn’t make it through the next challenge.

You and Septon Izar had ended things cleanly, amicably, and left it at that. He’d been a friend before, and somehow, he still was—one of the few people who hadn’t flinched when you first started sitting with the marked ones. Honestly, his support during that time had meant more than you'd ever said aloud.

And honestly? Since Xaden? You hadn’t thought about Septon once. And maybe, maybe, you had mentioned it to Xaden. In passing. At most.

But judging by the sudden silence that swept through the dining hall—and the way Xaden’s head snapped toward you the second Septon opened his mouth—you definitely hadn’t mentioned that part.

"I think we only had sex twice," Septon said casually, sipping from his cup like he hadn’t just tossed a live drake into the center of the table. “And both times we were pretty drunk.”

You blinked.

What?

Your fork hovered above your plate as the table fell into a mixture of choked laughter and stunned silence. Garrick muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like oh shit. Nyra was already dragging her hands down her face. Bodhi looked delighted. Of course he did—this had his meddling written all over it.

You squinted up at Septon. “Man, that was so long ago, I barely remember.”

Xaden didn’t say anything.

Didn’t have to.

Not when you could feel the way his gaze landed on you—deadly calm, unreadable, and very, very still.

Someone coughed. Garrick kicked Bodhi under the table. Septon, gods bless his complete lack of self-preservation, raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not like it meant anything,” he added, glancing between you and Xaden with a shrug. “We were just—”

"Don’t," Xaden said, voice low and even, but it carried like a cold front.

The entire table froze.

“Anyway,” you said quickly, forcing a smile as you turned your attention down the table, “Nyra, I don’t think I’ve ever heard about your physical escapades. Please, if we’re airing things out, do share.”

There was a pause.

Then Nyra leaned back with a knowing small grin. “Which year?”

And just like that, the conversation shifted. Nyra launched into a truly unhinged story involving a third-year from Rider’s Quadrant, two years ago and a storage closet full of training gear.

Everyone moved on.

Except you.

Because while the rest of the table erupted into laughter, Bodhi caught your eye and gave you a subtle salute—good luck with that—and Xaden’s shadows curled around your calves in a slow, possessive climb.

You had really thought that would be it. Completely and utterly it. There was nothing there.

You and Septon were barely a footnote, a hiccup in your timeline. But clearly, someone at the table had missed that memo—and that someone was now walking three paces behind you, silent, shadows brushing the edge of your steps like a warning.

You turned the corner just past the gym hall, fully intending to head toward the dorms, but a hand caught your arm—not rough, but firm—and suddenly, you were being pulled into a recessed archway you hadn’t even noticed.

Xaden didn’t speak at first.

Just looked at you.

That onyx stare that made it feel like he was peeling back your skin to see what was underneath. His jaw was tight, shadows curling restlessly around his boots.

“You’re mad,” you said flatly.

“I’m not mad,” he said. “I’m…” He exhaled through his nose, like he was trying to force the word back in. “You never told me.”

“I didn’t think I had to,” you shot back, arms folding. “It was nothing, Xaden. It was before.”

His brow twitched. “I watched him look at you like he still wanted something.”

“He was talking to Bodhi!”

“He was talking to you.”

You stared at him, pulse thrumming harder than it should’ve been. “Are you seriously jealous right now?”

His shadows surged, crawling up your spine like a storm about to break.

“No,” he said, stepping closer. “I’m possessive. There’s a difference.”

Your back hit the wall.

His hand came to rest beside your head, not quite touching, but close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him in waves. His voice dropped lower, into that gravel-smooth edge that made your knees a little unstable.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, eyes flickering down to your mouth, “and I don’t like being surprised.”

Your heart tripped over itself.

And because your pride had a death wish, you arched a brow and said, “Well, maybe I do.”

That was apparently the final straw.

He kissed you like it was a declaration, like he had to remind you—remind himself—that he knew every part of you better than anyone ever had. His hands found your hips, grip just shy of rough, and your fingers curled in his shirt like you needed something to hold onto before the ground gave way.

“Tell me again,” he said against your lips, voice thick with something that wasn't just anger, “how it meant nothing.”

Your breath caught—because you couldn’t. Not with the way he was looking at you. The only thing that mattered.

“It didn’t,” you whispered, barely audible. “It didn’t mean anything.”

He lingered there, just for a second, his forehead brushing yours as if he was searching for the truth in your skin. And then, with no more warning than a flick of his shadows, he pulled back just enough to say, “Come with me.”

You followed him without thinking.

Past cadets loitering in the halls, past flickering sconces and low murmurs, up flights of stairs that you barely registered because your heart was thundering in your chest. Xaden didn’t look back once—but his shadows stayed close, curling possessively around your wrist like a tether, a silent mine whispered over and over again in the dark.

By the time you reached his room, your pulse was high in your throat.

He opened the door, stepped inside—and then, just as you were about to follow, his hand shot out.

And pulled you in.

Hard.

You stumbled, but only for a heartbeat—because he was already there, catching you, pinning you back against the closed door with a thud that echoed in the silence.

“You think I care that it happened before me?” he murmured, his mouth brushing along your jaw, your neck. “I don’t.”

You shivered.

“I care that you didn’t tell me,” he continued, his hand sliding to your waist, hot through the thin fabric of your shirt. “I care that he thought he could say your name like that. Look at you like that.”

“Xaden—”

“I’m not going to be polite about it,” he interrupted, voice a low rasp. “I’m not going to pretend I’m okay hearing another man talk about what’s mine like it’s some casual memory.”

His lips found the corner of your mouth again, softer this time. A contrast to the words that came next.

“You’re not his story to tell.”

Your breath hitched.

“You want to tell me it meant nothing?” he asked, gaze catching yours with such intensity it felt like a command. “Then let me show the world who you belong with.”

Your hands fisted in his shirt, dragging him down.

And he did.

[writinginatree]

Too Sweet

Relationship(s): Xaden Riorson/female!reader

Summary: Xaden never understood how opposites could attract — not until he meets you and realizes that he doesn't have to understand your sweetness to cherish it.

Anonymous requested: I was thinking in a xaden fic based in "too sweet" from Hozier, where he's all like wanting the reader but also thinking like she deserved more, but with a happy ending ( maybe smutty too ✋🏻

Part 2

Xaden never understood that opposites were supposed to attract. On a physical level, sure. But when it comes to personality and ideology? How could anyone be with someone so wildly different from themselves that they can't possibly understand the other? Someone whose whole attitude to life is completely unlike their own? To him, it just seemed like a recipe for heartbreak. Then again, the saying only claims that opposites attract, not necessarily that they're compatible.

Since meeting you, this is something he's been thinking about a lot.

You're everything he is not; happy, bubbly, energetic, adored by just about everyone and making friends left and right. You're... sweet. There's no other way to put it. What someone like you is doing in the Riders Quadrant, Xaden doesn't know.

He tries to keep his distance at first — liking people is dangerous, and you're much too likable. Needless to say, it doesn't work. Being in the same squad, he constantly finds himself in your presence, and while he keeps to himself as much as he can, he finds it hard to outright avoid you. Almost against his will, he slowly gets to know you. He can't exactly help it, seeing as you sit next to him in almost every class, seek him out at mealtimes, asking him to come sit with the rest of your squad, offer smiles every time you pass him in the halls. You're everywhere, a persistent ray of sunshine piercing into the darkness of his life.

He doesn't understand you. Doesn't have a clue why you're so nice, or how you always manage to be so sociable, no matter what time it is or what lethal bullshit you're about to face, let alone why you seem to genuinely like him. Unlike most others, you have no prejudices against the marked ones, but even so, Xaden is not an easy person to like these days. He can't afford kindness, weakness. Not with all the lives that quite literally rest upon his back.

But no matter how curt he is, no matter how often he only gives one-word answers to your steady stream of chatter or declines your offers to study together, your friendliness never wavers. Every morning your beaming smile greets him in the gathering hall at breakfast, and as days turn into weeks, he often finds his gaze automatically scanning the room for you upon entering, hoping to catch a glimpse of that precious smile. Your presence becomes a comforting part of his routine, always there and yet never intruding. For all your persistence in trying to include him, you're never overbearing. You don't push him when he doesn't join your squad's study session, give him opportunity to join a conversation should he want to, but accept when he doesn't.

He shouldn't get too used to your presence — two of your year-mates have died already, and there's no guarantee you won't be next. Life is dangerous in the Riders Quadrant, and Xaden keeps wondering why someone so sweet would choose this life. You seem more like the type who would be a healer — or maybe even a baker or gardener, far away from the cruelty of war. And yet you thrive even in this environment. He supposes he could just ask you about it, but he doesn't want to get to know you, gods damn it.

Thinking back later, Xaden will realize that the superficial attraction he felt for you from the first starts to grow toward something more the first time your squad leader pairs him with you for a sparring session.

He has already seen you fight at Assessment, but facing you on the mat himself, he gets a much more intimate feeling of your fighting style. You're fast, full of the same energy that is in everything you do, smiling even as you struggle to dodge his punches and get past his defense. You're good. Not as good as him, but your enthusiasm makes up for that. Xaden has to admit — at least to himself — that sparring with you is actually fun. The training session seems to be over in the blink of an eye, and as you step off the mat, both of you sweaty and breathing hard, Xaden is already looking forward to the next, hoping he'll get you as his sparring partner again.

For once he allows himself to be drawn into conversation, answering your questions on how to improve your technique as you walk out of the gym side by side.

The better he gets to know you, the more he has to keep reminding himself to stay away from you, that you're too sweet for him. But, oh, it's hard; he enjoys your company so much. Garrick has caught on, too, teasing him about what he calls his crush on the sunshine girl every time he sees him talking to you. And though Xaden vehemently denies having such a silly thing as a crush, he can't even convince himself of that, let alone his best friend. Having known him as long as he does, Garrick always sees right through him.

The relief Xaden feels at Threshing when he lands and spots you already standing on the flight field in front of a Red is immense. He quickly shoves the feeling down, preferring not to think about what it implies. He does not have a crush, and the last thing he needs is for his dragon to think him a lovesick fool and change its mind about bonding him while it still can. He feels the unfamiliar presence of her in the back of his mind, her golden eyes piercing into him after he dismounts.

He feels all the other people's gazes on him, too, the disapproving stares from where leadership is seated on the dais, their disdain for him permeating the very air. He keeps his head high as he walks to the rollkeeper, refusing to so much as look at the people who'd doubtlessly been hoping he would meet his end in the woods today.

Blood keeps trickling into his eye from the cut Sgaeyl gave him. It stings, but the annoyance of it is worse than the pain. Pain is fine. But constantly having to blink away the blood blurring his vision, feeling it run down his cheek like tears — it makes his skin crawl with discomfort. He's not going to seek out the professors giving first-aid, though. Bothersome as it might be, it's just a little cut, and he can't afford to look weak.

As he walks back to Sgaeyl, his eyes automatically find you in the crowd of mingling first-years, just as they always do. You're watching him, too, but unlike everyone else whose gazes darken, you smile at the sight of him. When you notice him looking, you wave and start toward him. As you get closer, Xaden notes a split in your lip and a blood-soaked bandage around your thigh, but since you're hardly even limping, Xaden assumes that the injury can't be very bad. No, if anything, there's even more of a spring to your walk than usual, your hair bouncing with every step.

Instead of stopping in front of him when you reach him, you throw your arms around him, squeezing him tight, and suddenly, Xaden doesn't remember how to breathe. No one just hugs him out of nowhere like that. No one would even dream of hugging him at all. And yet here you are, doing just that and apparently thinking nothing of it, judging by the easy smile on your face when you let go after a couple of seconds.

"I'm glad you made it," you say. "I mean, I never doubted it, but still."

"I'm glad you made it, too," he admits, quiet enough that none of the people nearby will hear. He allows himself to return your smile, just for a moment, absentmindedly lifting his hand to wipe blood from his eye again. Your gaze immediately snags on the cut, a small crease appearing between your own brows.

"Your dragon?" you ask.

Xaden nods.

"You'd think the relics they'll give us should be enough to mark us as theirs, but apparently not. Mine stabbed me in the thigh."

"Daggertail?"

"Swordtail. Went right through and back out on the other side, but luckily she didn't cut through anything important." You shrug, the grin reappearing on your face as you tilt your head to the side, studying him. "That'll be one hell of a badass scar you're gonna have there."

Xaden bites back another smile, watching with slight confusion as you remove the kerchief you're wearing around your neck today. For a moment, Xaden catches a flash of glitter dotting the black cloth, then it's too close to see clearly as you bring the balled up fabric to his brow and dab up the blood. Your touch is much gentler than his own, and, with the cloth soaking up the blood, much more effective, too.

After a few seconds you pull back, pressing your now bloody neckerchief into his hand. "Keep it."

"Thanks," he mutters past the lump he suddenly seems to have in his throat.

He'll never get used to how kind you are. It's such a little thing, to notice how much the blood in his eye was bothering him and do something about it, and yet it means more to him than you could ever know. It'll probably take a while until the wound completely stops bleeding, but with your kerchief to wipe at it, at least it won't bleed all over his face anymore.

He pretends to listen as you start rambling about your dragon and the thrill of the short flight here, and though Xaden agrees that there's nothing that can compare to the feeling of flying, he can't focus enough to keep up with the sheer endless rush of words. It should be annoying, he thinks. The constant happy babbling, the needless touching — even now you're standing much closer than necessary, shaking his arm as you bounce on your feet while telling him about a particularly exciting part of approaching Milis. If anyone else did that, he'd shove them away to get some space, tell them to stop being so childish. But for some reason it doesn't bother him when you're the one doing it.

Spotting Garrick in the crowd, Xaden hurriedly uses the excuse to walk away toward his best friend. Turning his mind to more practical matters, he forces his thoughts away from you with great difficulty, still reeling from your unreasonable kindness.

After Threshing, something changes, and Xaden finds himself spending more and more time in your company. Maybe it's just that you and him are slowly crystalizing out to be the most powerful in your squad. Or maybe he's going down a slippery slope, no idea where it might lead but unable to stop the descent.

Too sweet, that's what you are. But then, Xaden has always liked sweet things. He remembers when he was a child, being told that all those sugary things he liked so much would hurt his teeth. With you, he feels similar to how he did then; afraid of the hurt he might be causing himself in the long run and wishing to preserve himself from it, but unable to resist the immediate temptation of sweetness. He craves it, that contrast you bring to the usual bitterness that is his life.

And it's refreshing to be around someone who isn't scared of him, even if he still doesn't understand why you aren't intimidated of him like everyone else. Despite your easygoing attitude and bubbly personality, you're far from a fool, unrelenting and self-preservative when need be.

It's an uncomfortable thought, the idea that maybe you're seeing past the stoic facade he keeps, know that he wouldn't hurt you unless you hurt him first. He's not used to people seeing him for who he is anymore, only for who he has to be. The Great Betrayer's son, the heir apparent, the revolution's leader. Traitor or hero, depending on who you ask. But with you, he can simply be Xaden. It scares him, that vulnerability you bring out in him, but he'd be lying if he claimed not to like how simple everything seems when he's with you.

The only difficulty is the secrets he is forced to keep. Luckily, you're very understanding when he says he doesn't want to talk about anything to do with his father's rebellion, and if you suspect that he's up to anything illegal, you don't show it. Some of it — like the meetings with all the marked ones in the quadrant to make sure everyone is helping each other get by — he could probably trust you with. By now, he knows you well enough to know you wouldn't immediately jump to the worst conclusions, would probably even help him sneak out. But in a way, the worst possible conclusions are uncomfortably close to the truth, and he can't risk revealing even such a comparatively harmless secret. No, the less you know, the better — for both of you.

Enjoy your company as he might, sometimes it does grate on his nerves, that seemingly endless happy energy you radiate. Like today, sitting at breakfast and tired out of his mind as he sips on his second mug of coffee when you come bouncing into the gathering hall, fresh from the gym. If he didn't know you get up before sunrise every morning to lift weights with another girl from your squad before breakfast, he'd think you came straight from your bed after a full night's sleep. Of course, even with getting up almost two hours earlier than necessary, you're most certainly still getting more sleep than he is.

Sliding into your usual seat beside him, you greet everyone with more enthusiasm than anyone should have at this time of morning. Xaden returns only the barest of nods, which is more than he's spared anyone else so far. He can already tell this is not going to be his day, and he doesn't feel like wasting energy on being sociable.

You know better than to take it personally, humming a happy little melody under your breath as you start to eat.

As much as Xaden normally enjoys the sound of your voice, the noise in the hall is already bad enough, and he doesn't need you adding to it. "Would you stop that?" he snaps, more harshly than he had intended.

You fall quiet with an apologetic smile, and Xaden immediately feels bad about losing his patience on you.

He downs the rest of his coffee, contemplating whether or not getting another mug of it would help his mood. Probably not, but it's worth a try to keep from snapping at you again. You're trying to be considerate, doubtlessly having noticed that the dark circles under his eyes are even more pronounced than usual, but it simply isn't in your nature to be quiet for long. He likes that — most of the time, at least. The silence he takes refuge in can feel suffocating at times; having you around to break it makes life decidedly more bearable.

"Maybe you'd be less tired if you tried going to bed a little earlier," you tease.

The glare he levels on you is the kind that would have a lesser person shrinking in their seat, as evident by the wary looks from your squadmates, but you're not intimidated in the least. If anything, your smile only widens.

Unbelievable.

"How do you want to know what time I go to bed?"

You shrug. "You know I have the room next to yours. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, and when I look out of the window then there's always light coming from your window."

"Stalker," he mutters, rolling his eyes when you giggle. The sound effortlessly melts away the worst of his irritation, leaving him still tired and moody, but decidedly less likely to kill anyone for testing his patience.

"I wasn't stalking you on purpose," you defend yourself, the laughter lingering in your voice, "I just like looking at the snow in the moonlight. It's always so pretty, don't you think?"

Xaden shrugs. It's been a long time since he's spared any thought to the beauty of nature. The next time he can't sleep — which is almost all the time — he'll try to enjoy the nightly view from his window too, he decides, if only so he can understand what you like about it.

"The snow would be all nice and well if we didn't have to fly in it," your squadmate inserts themself into the conversation. "Have you seen how much is coming down right now?"

You nod. "Maybe it'll let up until our turn on the flight field. Milis says if this keeps up, she and the other dragons might just refuse to show up." Quieter, only for Xaden, you add, "Let's hope they don't, then you can use the time for a nap instead."

"I don't need a nap," he grumbles back, just as quietly. Truth be told, he probably could use one, but if he were able to sleep, he wouldn't be this tired.

"You sure? I'll even sing you a lullaby if you'd like."

You wink at him, grinning in that way only you can, and Xaden knows that despite your playful manner, you're serious about helping him fall asleep if you can.

He shakes his head, smiling against his will. "You're a dork."

"And you're an insomniac."

"I'm fine."

"Whatever you say."

People's intimidation of him turns to outright fear once his signet manifests, shadows stirring wherever he goes. As usual, you're the exception. Your eyes shine with awe and something like pride as you watch him demonstrate his newfound powers to you with rapt fascination, not a trace of fear to be found.

"That's amazing!" You bring a hand to the shadow closest to you, gingerly brushing your fingers along it. Xaden feels goosebumps rise on his skin, as if it had been him you touched. "They're actually solid! How is that even possible?"

"No idea," Xaden admits. "I'm only just starting to figure out how it works."

As his signet grows stronger, your shadow is the one he's most aware of. Even when you're not in the same room — or even the same building — as him, he always knows exactly where you are and what you're doing. It's not what he should be using this power for, but the shadows seem to have a mind of their own. They're very attached to you. Or maybe he's just making that up to excuse his embarrassing lack of control. It's not like he wants to be some kind of obsessive stalker; he simply can't help the fact that you're constantly on his mind.

If you have noticed that the shadows near you always seem more alive than is natural as of late, you haven't mentioned it. Not very surprising, considering you're occupied with trying to control your own water wielding signet. Xaden has taken more than one involuntary bath since it manifested a couple weeks ago, and has learned to keep his distance from you while drinking water. When you lose control, it's always him getting drenched, as though your water is drawn to him the same way his shadows are to you. It wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't the middle of fucking winter. You always try to remove the moisture from his clothes afterwards, but while you have already gotten a little better at it, even your best efforts don't get them any less than damp, so Xaden — or whoever else falls victim to your flood — is left either freezing his ass off in wet clothes, or making himself late to the next class by returning to his room to get changed.

Worst of all, Xaden can't even bring himself to be mad at you about it. He's no better; the only difference is that, so far, his shadows haven't tried to drown anyone.

He probably shouldn't be thinking about that incident as often as he does, and he definitely shouldn't be so giddy about it. It was hotter than it had any right to be, watching you almost murder someone on his account. It also made his heart flutter with a whole array of feelings he can't even begin to name. While Xaden obviously doesn't need your protection, the fact that you're willing to publicly stand up for him means a lot. The knowledge that you got so angry in defense of him, that you wielded enough water to flood a whole stairway without even meaning to because someone had been talking shit about him... Just thinking about it makes him more emotional than he'd like.

But while your signet can be wild and destructive, the water is usually gentle. It's an accurate reflection of you, he thinks, untamed and unpredictable, inherently soft but just as capable of terrible harm when provoked. When you're calm and in control, the water flows steadily along like the ever present stream of your chatter, lively and somehow soothing at the same time. Xaden enjoys watching it, how it can flow through even the smallest crack, how it glitters in the light. He enjoys watching you wield it even more, the look of concentration on your face, the beaming smile when you get it to do what you want. It's hypnotizing. A dangerous distraction he really can't afford. He loses track of everything else all too easily when he's with you. You're an undertow, irresistibly pulling him in, and Xaden would happily drown in your sweet waters.

When his lips finally meet yours for the first time, you taste as sweet as Xaden's favorite chocolate cake, and he's instantly addicted.

Afterward, he's not even sure how it happened. You'd been sitting in commons after doing homework together, enjoying a few more minutes of quiet in each other's presence before turning in for the night. You'd rested your head on his shoulder, smiling up at him as he teased you about already being tired so early in the evening, the only other sound the dripping of the melting snow outside the window. Then, before he even knew what he was doing, Xaden had leaned down and kissed you.

Lying in bed that night, he still can't believe it. Even harder to believe is the fact that you'd kissed back, smiling from ear to ear and gracing him with another peck of your lips when he'd wished you a good night and fled to his room. He still feels the ghost of your lips against his, imagines he can still taste you as he licks them.

Trying to form a coherent thought feels like swimming through an ocean of thick, cloying sweet honey. When he closes his eyes, there's only you. Your bright smile and soft eyes, the sound of your laugh, the feeling of your lips, over and over again. The tiny part of him still capable of logic is telling him he made a mistake, that he should stay the fuck away from you. Indulging the feelings for you, which he is no longer able to deny, can't lead anywhere good. He should turn back while he still can, for your sake as much as his own.

You deserve someone nicer, someone you won't be in danger for associating with, who doesn't have so much to hide. Someone who can openly worship the ground you walk on, prioritize you over everything else. Xaden wishes he could be that person, but the burden he took on after his father's death won't allow it.

He plans on telling you as much, but when he sees you in the hall the next morning, he can't bring himself to get the words out. Your face lights up at the sight of him, the awareness of the joy his presence brings you making his heart ache. Then you come skipping over and peck his cheek, first making sure nobody is watching, which has Xaden melting all over again. No, as much as he knows he should end this before it can really start, he simply can't.

You walk to breakfast in companionable silence, which Xaden is very grateful for. He's not ready to talk about whatever this is that's developing between you. You'll have to, eventually, he knows. He'll have to decide if he wants to accept that he's smitten and just see where this will go, vulnerability and problems that would come with it and all, or if he wants to try and shut you out. It's barely a choice, considering how he loathes every moment he's apart from you. He should have never allowed himself to get this close in the first place, but now it's too late.

"You shouldn't be seen with me so much," he tells you a few days later. The both of you are late for math because you'd been too busy making out in an empty corridor to hear the bells, and he can't help but worry what everyone will think when they see you walk in together, kiss-swollen lips and all. "People will say you associate with traitors."

The roll of your eyes is a stark contrast to the gentle tone of your voice when you reply. "People see us together all the time, Xaden. It's not any different just because we're more than friends now. And I don't care what they think, anyway. You're not a traitor, and anyone who thinks you are is an idiot and doesn't matter."

Xaden has to bite his lip to keep silent. If only you knew what he's been up to. Dragging you into the revolution is the last thing he wants, and yet, he can't help but imagine how much nicer it all would be with you by his side. With a sense of justice as strong as yours, you would certainly want to help if you knew the truth of what's out there. No matter. He's not going to put you into that danger, not with how uncertain everything still is.

Twice him and Garrick have managed to smuggle weapons out now, chancing upon a friendly drift by mere luck the first time. Twice is not enough to determine whether they'll get away with it in the long run. For all he knows, someone could already be suspecting them — which is exactly why you should not be seen with him. Even unaware as you are, it's not safe.

And what if you catch on? Xaden knows you know he has secrets, and adores you even more for not pushing the matter, but eventually, your curiosity is bound to get the best of you. If you find out about the weapons runs, he'll either have to tell you what leadership has been hiding — which will sound like madness when he has no way to prove it — or let you believe him to be a traitor without reason. He can't imagine either.

Unfortunately, you choose just then to say, "You know, I missed you at dinner yesterday."

Xaden acknowledges your comment with a nod but doesn't reply, unwilling to lie but unable to tell you that he'd snuck out with Garrick to deliver the weapons they'd stolen for the fliers.

"I'm not saying that because I want to stalk you or anything," you continue. It's become sort of a running joke between the two of you to call the other a stalker for such observations. "It's just that you had me worried. Maybe next time you could let me know when you're going to be busy?"

"Yeah. I can do that," Xaden says, praying you won't ask where he's been.

"Thank you." You smile, briefly halting your steps to give him another kiss, and Xaden is too lost in the sweetness of it to notice you've already reached the classroom until you open the door.

Despite his resolution to not let your relationship — or whatever it is — progress any further, he does. It's like any time he's near you, he loses all common sense.

Sgaeyl is getting annoyed with him, telling him to make up his mind. It is clear he's already made his decision, she says, so he might as well commit to it. She's right, of course, even if Xaden hates to admit it.

He doesn't want to be the selfish asshole he feels he's being by letting himself bask in your presence every chance he gets, by allowing himself to dream of a future with you by his side. It's unattainable, no matter how much he wants it, and yet there's a tiny part of him that dares to hope and refuses to settle for less. You may not have actually talked about your feelings so far, but Xaden knows you want a real, deeper relationship with him as much as he does. It could all be so perfect, if there weren't all those responsibilities Xaden has to think of, the lives depending on him. He can't drag you into that mess in good conscience; just imagining that inherent joy leaving your eyes as the truth destroys your faith in humanity makes him feel sick.

Maybe he could be with you without letting you find out? You always respect his privacy, never probe about the secrets you know he has.

But no, he can't keep you in the dark forever. He'll tell you, sooner or later. You deserve to know the truth, terrible as it is. You deserve to fight by his side, if you so choose. Whatever horrors the future holds, Xaden wants to face them together with you.

"I don't know if this is such a good idea," he admits one night, lying in your bed. One last, half-hearted attempt to make you see he's bad for you. And if you brush it off like you always do, he'll accept that you want him too, consequences be damned.

"What isn't?"

"Us."

"Why not?" you ask, voice as soft as the drizzle of rain falling outside the window.

There's more than a dozen reasons he could list, but most of them have to do with matters he can't — won't — tell you about. Someday he will, if the world keeps turning long enough, but for the time being, it's better you don't know.

"I'm not sweet like you," he mumbles instead.

You just smile, the way you always do when he's being difficult. "No, I guess not. But you're not the bad guy you want people to think you are, either."

"You can't possibly know that."

He thinks of everything you don't know, the secrets he's hiding. Would you still think the same of him if you knew the truth about him, everything he really is?

"I do, though. You're not a bad guy," you repeat with a gentleness he doesn't deserve. "You're just you. A survivor. Maybe a bit broody. But that's okay, 'cause I love you just the way you are."

Your fingers brush a few stray hairs from his forehead, and the last of Xaden's resolve crumbles. Neither of you had dared use the word love so far; hearing it now, Xaden wants you to say it over and over again.

"Good. Because you're not getting rid of me anymore."

"No?"

"No. Even if you probably should."

"Good." You smile, ignoring the second half of what he said, and brush your lips against his. "Now stop worrying so much and go to sleep."

[luvly-writer]

Of Light and Shadow

Xaden Riorson x Gamlyn! Reader

Important Author's note in the end.

Backstory:

Y/n and Ridoc are twins, with him being older by 6 minutes. They grew up in coastal village named Ceaelyn in the Morraine Province of the continent. Due to the fact that their parents were highly absent, Y/n and Ridoc were raised by people in their village. They were the heart and soul of Ceaelyn. Once they got of age, they decided to join the riders quadrant. Their father, initially desagreed (as did most of the village), but seeing as they were so bent on going, helped them train little by little so that they could at least survive those first months.

Basgaith

First Impressions

A Scent of Trouble

Eyes Up, Gamlyn

Focus, Wingleader

Mutual Distractions

The Light Wielder

Gonna do something about it?

Soft Spot

Sweet and Pretty

Not just Vanity

Charmed

Charming her

We Were Rebels

Aretia

Domesticated

You are who I worship

Oh dear twin...

Smitten

Utterly Divine

Well, Who is she? | And who is he?

Girl's night

A Cultured Duchess | The Necklace

The Importance of Light and Hope

Homesick

Ceaelyan First

Duchess of the People

Missions gone Wrong

My one and only

Light of Mine

Bliss

Renovations

Beach Weekend

A Very Loved Wife

And a Very Traumatized Twin

Ridoc's Revenge

The Girl's Reward

Her Birthday

His Birthday

Just Pure Love

Stressful Situations

Incorrect Quotes

Author's Note: Hello! This entire story is ALREADY WRITTEN. I literally wrote it little by little as I was doing my midterms and finals as a way to destress and to survive my Onyx Storm hangover, mainly for me, using my name as an OC. Then as I finished it and I was like damn, this could actually be something people could enjoy. It fluctuates from canon a lot so don't expect it to be precisely like the books. I will be updating little by little. Since it quite literally finished you guys might get various chapters a day.

Taglist: @eepyfaerie @dreamdragonkadia

Leave me a comment to tagged. <3

[laphiera]

shadows. { xaden riorson x fem!reader }

Fandom: Fourth Wing / The Empyrean

Synopsis: You find yourself being turned on by your boyfriend displaying his power, and it's making you curious about just how good his control over shadows truly is ... and what else he can potentially do with them. Particularly, regarding your pleasure.

Tags: smut. inappropriate use of shadow signet. ( guided ) masturbation. multiple orgasms. shadow tentacle sex ( vaginal and anal ). oral sex ( m receiving ). Content Warnings: nsfw.

Wordcount: 6.4k

It always starts the same way.

You swear you're used to it by now, Xaden's shadows trailing after him like loyal beasts, dancing between his fingers when he's focused, curling into the air as if they're alive. It should be routine, familiar. But somehow it never is.

Not when you're watching him like this. Especially when you're watching him like this.

He's sitting near the window, stripped to the waist, the late sunlight tracing the lines of muscle across his back as he works, his dragon relic familiar to you. One hand rests on the table, the other casually lifted as if he's half-listening to the quiet murmur of his shadows. They flow across the room with easy grace, flickering around him in slow, deliberate movements. Controlled. Obedient. Dangerous. And utterly beautiful.

You're supposed to be doing something else, but instead you sit on the edge of his bed, chin propped in your hand, letting your eyes wander across the dark expanse of his shoulders and the slow, swirling movement of those ever-present shadows.

And that's when the thought sneaks in. It's not a new one, but this time, it lingers.

What else can he do with them?

That precision, the control he has over them, and the way they respond to him like they're an extension of his own body. What would that feel like, turned inward? Directed not toward battle, but toward you?

A slow, traitorous flush creeps down your neck.

You shift on the bed, suddenly very aware of how warm your skin feels, how much space there is between the two of you. You chew your bottom lip, watching as one of the shadows curls around his wrist like a lover's hand, languid and slow.

Your thighs press together without thinking.

"Whatever you're thinking," Xaden suddenly says, voice low and edged with amusement - apparently, he's been watching you without you noticing, "you're not being subtle about it."

Your heart skips a beat. You look up too fast, and sure enough, he's turned to you now, elbow on the table, chin resting on his fist. Those dark eyes fix on yours, heat smoldering behind them.

"I wasn't thinking anything," you lie, poorly.

He lifts an eyebrow in an unspoken challenge. "No?"

The shadows twist upward behind him, lazily coiling like smoke in a breeze. You can't help it; your gaze follows the movement, and he notices. Of course he does.

"You've been staring for the past five minutes," he murmurs, rising slowly to his feet. "And you do this thing ..." His head tilts, eyes raking over you. "... where your breathing changes. A little faster. Lips parting. Eyes glazed. That usually means one of two things."

You blink, startled. "Oh?"

"Either you're about to kiss me," he says, stepping closer, shadows following after him like eager whispers, "or you're imagining what I can do to you."

Your skin goes hot. You don't respond, can't, because yes, damn it, that's exactly what you're doing.

He stops in front of you. Close, but not yet touching you.

"What is it about them?" he asks softly. His eyes flick to his own hand, where a shadow is curling between his fingers. "The way they move? Or the fact that I can control them with a thought?"

You breathe in, gaze fixed on the shadow. "Both." This single word is a whisper and a confession in one, and you immediately see something in his expression change.

His shadows still as he leans down, mouth near your ear, voice a raw, delicious scrape of sound. "I've thought about it too, you know."

Your breath hitches.

"You pressed up beneath me, breathless and flushed, my hands holding you down while my shadows ..." He pulls back, just enough to meet your wide eyes. "... explore."

You shudder just once, not in fear but in anticipation, and don't look away. You can't - too enthralled, the images already burning into your mind.

"Tell me," he says, voice low and reverent. "Do you want to feel it?"

There's a pause before you answer, soft but sure, "Yes."

That one word changes everything. Xaden's eyes darken, heat and intent flaring behind them like something alive. But he doesn't move forward. Not even a single step toward you. Instead, he stays exactly where he is, a few feet away, arms relaxed at his sides, shadows slowly curling at his heels like they're waiting for permission.

"This is about you," he says, voice a low, molten thread of sound. "So I'm not going to touch you."

You blink. "What?"

He smiles, slow and dangerous, like he knows exactly what that promise will do to you. "You're going to feel everything," he says, "and I won't lay a single finger on you. Not until you ask me to."

Your breath catches.

Because you can already see it, you see how much he wants to. It's in the way his hands flex at his sides, how the tension has crept into his shoulders. His gaze is locked on you, burning, like he's already imagining what it would feel like to give in, to press his mouth to your neck and pull those desperate little sounds from your throat.

But he doesn't.

He just lifts his hand, fingers twitching in a subtle, deliberate motion, and the shadows come to life. One tendril rises, slow and sinuous, brushing along your ankle like a whisper of wind. You twitch, the sensation feather-light and unfamiliar, and your eyes shoot to his. He watches you closely, carefully, as another shadow curls around your calf, sliding beneath the hem of your pants.

You inhale. Sharp. Audible.

The shadows are cool but not cold. Just ... different, unfamiliar. They move like silk against your skin, with the weight and texture of something half-formed, something alive. One glides higher, slowly trailing the curve of your thigh, and you feel it even through the layers of fabric. It's a delicate, teasing pressure that makes your stomach twist and your breath grow shallow.

Xaden says nothing. But his pupils dilate, and his throat bobs when he swallows. Yet he still doesn't move closer.

Another shadow moves, this one rising behind you, slipping between your back and the shirt that suddenly feels far too heavy, too in the way. It lifts the hem slightly, gliding along the dip of your spine with aching patience. You shiver, spine arching instinctively, chasing the touch.

"Good," he murmurs. "Just feel."

The one at your thigh climbs higher, and gods, your breath stutters as it slides beneath the waistband of your pants. It doesn't touch anything yet; it just rests there, waiting for a command. You meet his gaze again, and something about how he's watching you - dark and reverent, restrained but starving - makes heat bloom low in your belly.

"Do you feel how much they want you?" he asks softly. "They react to me, but they respond to you. They're drawn to your need."

You bite your lip hard enough to sting, legs tense, muscles coiling in anticipation as the shadow behind your back slowly inches higher, brushing your lower ribs, tracing the side of your breast through your shirt.

You let out a quiet, shaky breath. Too overwhelmed by the sensation to do anything else.

"I can stop," he offers, voice rougher now, more ragged.

"No!" you say quickly, almost desperately. "Don't."

His jaw clenches and his hands twitch, but he nods. "I won't."

The shadow beneath your clothes at your waist finally moves again, tracing the curve of your hip bone, before finally slipping lower. Not quite touching where you want, where you need it, but circling closer and closer like it knows exactly how to undo you one brush at a time.

And still, Xaden hasn't taken a step.

But he's breathing harder now, lips parted, chest rising with each slow inhale like it's costing him something to keep his distance. He's watching you unravel, and gods, the way he's watching makes you feel bare even with all your clothes on.

"Does it feel good?" he asks quietly.

You nod. "Yes," you breathe.

The shadows are slow and deliberate, gliding just beneath your clothes, shaping your breath, and making your skin feel electric. Every pass, every faint caress beneath fabric you suddenly resent, tightens the coil in your belly another notch.

But then they stop. Sudden. Inexplicably.

They still and retreat, slipping away from your body like smoke sucked into the air. You blink, heart racing, skin humming with frustration and want.

You're about to question your boyfriend, curse him, and beg him to continue, but then you hear his voice, low and raspy, "Take them off."

His dark eyes are fixed on you, sharp and hungry. He's still standing exactly where he was, chest rising with careful, controlled breaths as if proximity might undo him. As if he cannot guarantee not to touch you, should he come closer.

Your lips part. "You want me to ...?"

"Clothes," he explains, voice even lower and rougher than before. "Take them off. I want to see."

Your breath catches because you know he won't ask twice. So, you slowly rise to your feet on trembling legs. You don't rush the process, though. Partly because your fingers are shaking. Mostly because something is intoxicating about the way his gaze follows your every motion, tracking your hands as you peel your shirt over your head, slow and careful, revealing bare skin inch by inch. His eyes immediately flicker to your breast, to your nipples already tightened from the phantom touch of his shadows. He swears under his breath.

Your pants slide down next, slowly over your hips, until they pool at your feet. You stand there for a moment in just your underwear. The room is silent except for your breathing and the subtle crackle of restrained power in the air.

Then, without a word, you slip the last layer down too, baring yourself to him completely.

His jaw tightens. "Sit back down. Just like you were before."

You do, moving slowly, lowering yourself back onto the edge of the bed. Your thighs part instinctively, showing him how aroused this whole thing has already made you.

Xaden's mouth parts just slightly, as he stares at you.

You're already wet. You know you are. The air brushes your skin and makes you clench around nothing, and the way his eyes drag over every inch of you, now neck to chest, to your slick center and back up again, makes your breath catch.

His voice, when it comes, is low and reverent. "Fuck."

He runs a hand over his mouth, like he needs a second to compose himself. "I knew you'd be beautiful," he murmurs. "But like this? Dripping and flushed and waiting ... all because of me? Because of my shadows touching you?"

You exhale shakily. "Xaden ..."

His shadows stir again. Like they can feel his restraint slipping and want to return to what they've been doing before. Touching you, feeling you unravel beneath them. But he holds up a hand, commanding them still.

"I want to remember this," he says, voice quiet. "Every part of you. Every look you make. I want to see what my shadows do to you."

You shift on the bed, instinctively trying to ease the ache growing between your legs. His eyes follow the motion and darken.

"Touch yourself," he says. It's not a command, just a plea by a man starved. "Just for a moment. Let me see how badly you need it."

You hesitate, the heat of his gaze wrapping around you like a second skin. But then, slowly, you obey.

Your breath stutters as you slide your hand between your thighs, fingers moving cautiously at first. Testing. The memory of his shadows still lingers on your skin. Soft, ghostlike. Wanting. But now it#s your hand, your touch, and his eyes never leave you.

You glance up and your breath catches in your throat.

Xaden's no longer standing in front of you; instead, he's taken a seat in the chair across from the bed, distant enough not to touch, but close enough that nothing escapes his view. He sits wide-legged, hands gripping the arms of the chair like his life depends on it. And between his thighs, his pants are visibly, unmistakably tight.

There's no hiding it. The bulge pressing against the front of his pants is hard and obvious, a physical betrayal of everything he's been trying to hold.

You lick your lips, proud that you can have such an effect on him just by presenting yourself to him. Your arousal becomes his arousal and vice versa.

His gaze stays locked on your hand. On the slow, tentative movements of your fingers as they brush through your slick folds, circling your clit once, twice, which draws out a soft moan you try (and fail) to contain.

He keeps watching like he's starved. Dark eyes fixed, jaw tight, the tendons in his neck straining with restraint. His shadows swirl faintly at his feet again, like they're agitated and restless, sensing just how much their wielder is holding himself back.

"Don't stop," he says roughly. It's the first time he's spoken since sitting, and his voice alone is proof of his building arousal. It's lower now, hoarse. Like it's scraped raw from the inside. "Let me see you fall apart."

You shiver, and his command causes your fingers to move a little faster now, bolder, getting encouraged from his noises. Your other hand lifts to your chest, brushing over one breast, teasing one of your already pebbled nipples. The sensation sends sparks dancing down your spine, and you let your head tip back for a moment, lips parting to let out a low moan.

When you spare a glance at him, you realize that one of his hands has clenched into a fist on the armrest. The other twitches, like he's resisting the urge to reach for himself, no matter how difficult it seems to be. His jaw is locked tight, his eyes dark and feral, but his body remains still. Controlled, but burning up in heat.

"For someone who's not supposed to be touching," you murmur, breathless but in a teasing tone, "you're looking at me like you're seconds away from losing it."

That earns an immediate reaction. His head tilts, and a small smile curves at his lips. "I said this was about you, not me."

And then, finally, the shadows start to move again. They slither forward like they've been waiting for this moment, rising to meet your thighs, brushing past your fingers with the same careful precision as before. One tendril wraps gently around your wrist, slowing your movements, before using its grip to guide them. Another one glides along the inside of your thigh, tracing slick skin, spreading you a little wider. Two wrap around your thighs, holding them open, and giving Xaden a perfect view of everything that is happening.

Xaden exhales like he's been holding his breath for minutes. "Look at you," he says, "you're soaked."

The shadows shift, and a new one curls beneath your breast, lifting it slightly before trailing the tip across your nipple. You gasp, louder this time, hips rocking instinctively into your own hand guided by their touch.

"You should see what I see, love," Xaden murmurs. "Flushed. Desperate. Dripping for me. For my shadows."

The one around your wrist retreats now, your hand free again, and you're moving it quicker now, fingers sliding in deeper, guided by your need and his intense focus. But the shadows don't stop this time; they join you. One flickers gently across your clit while another brushes the spot where your fingers disappear inside yourself, clearly planning to either join you or take over completely.

You moan again, this time unfiltered. Loud and desperate and fueled by a kind of heat you've never felt like this before.

And across from you, Xaden groans, quiet and broken, when you suddenly see it: His hips shift. He presses into the seat of the chair, like he's trying to relieve the pressure, just for a second. Just to survive the sight of you like this. But still, he doesn't touch. Gods, does he want to, though.

You're so close you can taste it now. The shadows are everywhere, coaxing, teasing, knowing. One is stroking your clit in maddening circles, precise and rhythmic, while another moves against your entrance in tandem with your fingers, every motion tailored to bring you to the brink of orgasm. Your hand is soaked, knuckles slick, your breath ragged as your thighs tremble with every breath.

Your head falls back. Your hips rise. You're right there, teetering on the edge ...

Suddenly, your wrists are caught, stopping every motion immediately.

Your eyes fly open with a sharp inhale as cool tendrils of shadow wrap around both wrists, gentle but firm - no matter how hard you try to free yourself, you can't - and lift your arms above your head.

They pin you to nothing but air, stretched and exposed, your back arched and your chest rising in quick, desperate breaths. Your hands twitch in the hold, but there's no pain. Just a quiet, impossible strength that says: stay.

"What ..." you gasp, eyes darting to him. "Xaden!"

His gaze is molten, no longer calm, no longer composed. He leans forward in his chair at least, forearms resting on his thighs, and his voice is barely human when he speaks. It's low and dark and hungry. Different from what you're used to. "You don't need your hands anymore."

Immediately, you reply with a quiet, wrecked sound, caught somewhere between surprise and need. He still hasn't moved from that chair, hasn't touched you, but somehow, this is even more intimate than him being right in front of you. Or above you. Your body is fully open, trembling under the sensation of shadow and want, your skin hypersensitive, your breath breaking.

"I want to see you fall apart," he says, each word thick with restraint. "But I want it to be because of me. Not your fingers. Mine."

In that moment, you realize: his shadows are his fingers. They are an extension of himself. Guided by his will, listening to his command, touching you the way he would.

They start moving with more purpose now, no longer teasing. One slides between your legs, a thicker one than the small tendrils that have touched you before, and presses inside you. Slow but thick enough to stretch, and somehow it feels both soft and strong all at once. You cry out, hips jerking, the sensation unlike anything you've ever felt.

Another one trails up to your stomach, curves over your breasts, and brushes your nipples with aching precision. First one, then the other. Going back and forth, switching between them.

And the one at your clit? It doesn't stop. It keeps circling, stroking you with maddening accuracy. Never too much, never too little. Just enough to keep you spiraling higher and higher.

Xaden watches you writhe under the touch of his power, his jaw clenched so tight you think it might crack.

"You look so fucking perfect like this," he rasps. "Wrists bound. Mouth open. Needing me ... and so fucking wet for me."

You moan at the cadence of his voice, low and dark, cracked with hunger. One of the shadows brushes your throat like a phantom kiss, not choking, just reminding you that he could touch you anywhere and anytime. That he is touching you, even if not directly.

"Do you want to come?" he asks, eyes fixed on your soaked center, on the way his shadows move inside you.

"Yes," you gasp, the word torn from your throat. "Please ... Xaden, please."

"Good," he growls. "Then let go."

And with one final flick of shadow against your clit, one deep thrust of dark silk inside you, right against your spot, you shatter. The moment your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, stealing the breath from your lungs, tearing a loud moan from your throat, everything blurs.

You need a few seconds to come back, and when you do, when the wave recedes, the shadows remain.

Your body is still pulsing, clenching involuntarily around the cool tendril inside you. Your skin is damp with sweat, your chest heaving, your thighs trembling uncontrollably. You're floating, skin prickling, heart fluttering ... and then you feel it.

They haven't stopped.

The shadow tendril buried inside of you doesn't retreat. No, it stays where it is. Still moving, slower now, but steady still, curling in a way that makes your overstimulated nerves jolt in shock. Another brushes your clit in delicate, lazy circles, too gentle to hurt, but too much for your already sensitive bundle of nerves.

Your breath catches in your throat. You try to speak, but the words stutter out as a broken moan.

Xaden hasn't moved from his seat yet, but he's leaning forward now, elbows braced on his knees, his expression dark and unreadable. His pupils are blown wide. His jaw flexes as he watches the way your body arches, the way you fight the pleasure even as it builds again. Faster than the first time.

"You're shaking," he says softly.

You nod, unable to do much else, not trusting yourself to speak just yet. Your wrists are still pinned above your head, held by nothing but shadow and his command. You don't even think about pulling free anymore.

"You just came, and now you're already clenching for more. Tell me, love. Tell me how much you enjoy it."

You whimper, hips jerking as the shadow inside you twists again, gentle but devastating.

"Xaden." His name slips out like a plea, like a warning.

He cocks his head slightly. "Do you want me to stop?"

You should say yes. You should. Your body is too raw and overstimulated. But even as the words rise in your throat, you feel it again. That heat. That slow, growing ache that builds from the aftermath and transforms into a second wave of pleasure. The shock has started to fade, replaced by something darker, something deeper. Pure need. Desperate want. Burning heat.

So instead of giving him the answer you should, you shake your head, and whisper, "No. Don't stop."

His eyes darken even more, if possible, and a low groan escapes him, like your words physically unravel something inside him. "Then take it," he growls. "Let me watch you fall apart again."

The shadow at your clit quickens just slightly, the circles tighter now, more deliberate. The one inside you thrusts a little deeper, filling you completely before dragging out with slow, perfect pressure. You cry out, body jolting with every pulse of sensation.

Your back arches. Your legs twitch.

And Xaden is watching it all, hands clenched on the arms of his chair, muscles taut, a sheen of sweat at his brow from how tightly he's reining himself in.

"You're going to come again. And you'll keep going until I say you're done." It's not a threat, it's a promise. You know he isn't playing around, especially not when it comes to something like this.

Another shadow tendril rises and wraps around your waist - not to restrain, but to cradle. To hold you still. You're barely sitting upright anymore, slumping into its cool embrace like you're weightless, boneless. Which, honestly, after everything, might not be that far off the truth.

Your nipples are hard, your mouth slack, and your whole body trembles. The pressure of another orgasm is rising again, faster this time. Hot and brutal and inevitable.

You can't think. Can't breathe. All you can do is feel.

When it finally hits, it hits you harder than the first. The second climax tears through you without warning, without mercy. It's raw and overwhelming, your body clenching so hard around the shadow inside you that your whole vision whites out at the edges. You cry out, loud and unfiltered, every nerve stretched, every muscle taut.

Your limbs tremble violently in their bindings, thighs twitching with aftershocks. The tendrils of shadow cradle you still, one stroking inside, another lazily circling your clit like it's savoring the moment. There's one still playing with your nipples, and a few more keeping you in place, holding you open and mostly unmoving. Your skin feels too hot, too sensitive, like you could burst from even a single breath of air.

You let your head drop back for a moment, eyes fluttering shut. Your heart is racing, lungs dragging air in ragged gulps, body slick with sweat.

For one second, you think it's over. But then you blink and realize Xaden has finally moved. He's standing now, and while his shadows move across the room, remaining on your hot body, he has finally stepped closer. Not yet touching you, but finally within reach.

His jaw is hard, his breathing uneven. His eyes are darker than you've ever seen before. And when your gaze shifts downward, you see it.

He's pulled down his pants, his cock now in his hand. Thick, flushed, and painfully hard. He's not stroking, just holding it, fingers tightening like he's seconds away from losing all control.

Yes! He'll finally give it to me now, you think for one blissfully naive second.

You're wrecked, spent, soaked. Although your body is done, your mind screams at you, imagining it vividly: Xaden finally sinking into you, claiming you after all that teasing and restraining, giving up the control he so carefully maintained.

But he doesn't move, doesn't come closer, doesn't give any sign that you're wish is about to come true. Instead, he meets your eyes and smirks.

"You think you get this now?" When he speaks, his voice is ruined with lust. His hand flexes around his cock, but he doesn't stroke. Doesn't offer it to you. "You think just because you came twice for me, I'm going to fuck you?"

Your lips part, but you don't have an answer. Your mind is too occupied with watching him, big, flushed, and ready. The ache between your legs hasn't faded - it only seems to grow stronger.

"You don't get that yet. Because this isn't about me." His gaze flicks down to your body, your parted thighs, your glistening skin, your nipples still hard, your wrists still pinned high in the air. "This is about you; this is about what you can take."

He's moved closer, until he's standing right at the edge of the bed and between your spread legs.

The shadow inside you pulses once in a deep, deliberate thrust that has your hips jerking as another gasp rips from your throat.

"You're not done, love," he says. "Not even close."

Suddenly, something new touches you. Smaller. Different.

Your body goes completely still as a thin tendril brushes softly over the curve of your ass. Hesitant. Gentle. It's not yet pressing, just a presence. Like it's testing the waters, asking for permission to go further.

Your breath stutters in your throat, your heart giving a sharp little flutter of surprise as your eyes fly to Xaden.

He's still watching you, every inch of you, every breath. His cock is hard in his hand, his control barely holding. But his gaze softens the moment he sees your expression shift.

"No, don't tense you," he says gently, tone softer than before. He knows this is new territory, and he's giving you a chance to stop him before he goes further.

You swallow hard. "Xaden ..."

"Shhh. You're safe, I promise."

The smaller shadow hasn't moved again. It lingers where it is, waiting for you to breathe more normally.

"I won't hurt you," he promises.

You nod, chest rising with each shaky inhale. You know that. Xaden would never do something that'll hurt you.

He watches you for a moment longer, his gaze like a hand stroking down your body. "This is just another way to make you feel good. If you want it."

You don't need to think about it for long. You just nod and whisper, "Okay. I trust you."

That soft tendril starts to move. It's just a nudge at first, brushing between your cheeks, slicking itself with your arousal before it traces lower. The pressure is featherlight. Circling, teasing, not yet pushing in.

Xaden looks at you, at the small tendril working at your tightest hole. "That's it. Let it in. Let me show you what you can feel."

You gasp as it eventually slips in, not far, just barely enough to make you tense. But you feel the stretch, the sensation. It's neither overwhelming nor wrong. It's just ... more. Different. Not something you're used to.

Paired with the slow thrusts from the other shadow and the rhythmic circles on your clit, it feels insane. Like your body is being touched in ways you never thought to imagine.

You moan, louder this time, raw and half-broken. From the corner of your vision, you see Xaden's hand tighten around his cock, stroking up and down just once. Probably to alleviate the pressure.

"You're taking it so well," he says. "So fucking perfect for me."

The tendril inside your ass moves again, just slightly. A flex. A press. Slowly but surely working you open, so your whole body shakes. By now, it feels like it's not entirely your own anymore, nothing but heat and trembling limbs, every nerve alive and burning.

You're still bound. Still held open by his shadows, which have not relented the slightest. The one inside your cunt keeps up that slow, steady rhythm, deep and dragging, like it knows exactly how to keep you suspended right on the edge. The tendril inside your ass moves in time, not fast, not rough, just full. Measured. Perfect. And the one at your clit continues its circles, patient and relentless, tracing the shape of you, bringing you closer to your next inevitable orgasm.

You moan again, high and shaking, toes curling.

Xaden's voice breaks through the haze. "Fuck. You look so fucking good like this."

His hand is still wrapped around his cock, now flushed dark and heavy, and he's definitely throbbing.

"You don't realize, do you?" he murmurs, looking down at you, at your stretched, wrecked body, held wide open for him by nothing but his magic. "Stuffed in all the right ways. Taking every bit of it like you were made for this."

You moan, body arching, because gods, the words, the way he says them ...

Suddenly, he freezes because you do something he doesn't expect. You tilt your head back, eyelids fluttering. Your mouth falls open. Not in a cry this time, but in invitation. Slow. Willing. Silent.

You look up at him with your lips parted, tongue just barely visible, and there's no mistaking what you're asking for. Not begging. Not demanding. Just offering - in case he needs it.

His breath catches in his throat. A muscle in his jaw ticks. He lets out a noise which sounds suspiciously like a growl, and for a second, he doesn't move.

But then he steps forward.

His cock is right there now, heavy and flushed and aching. So close you can smell the salt and sweat and want rolling off him in waves. He watches your mouth like it's the most dangerous thing in the world.

"Are you sure?" he asks, voice low and guttural. "Because if I fuck your mouth right now, I'm not going to last long. You've already undone me, love. All of this -" He gestures at your body, his shadows still moving in a slow, sensual rhythm. "This is you doing it to me."

You breathe out around the words. "Then let me finish it."

That seems to be all it takes.

His hand lifts as he guides himself to your lips, eyes asking for permission once more, before he finally slides in. The weight of him on your tongue is heady. Real.

The moment you close your lips around him, Xaden shudders like he's being struck by lightning. "Fuck. Yes. Just like that, love."

He doesn't thrust. Not yet. Instead, he lets you set the pace, lets your tongue swirl, lets you hollow your cheeks, and allows your mouth to worship him in the way you want.

But his control? It's shredding by the second. You see it, you feel it.

As his shadows keep moving inside you, pushing you higher once more, he finally touches you, tangling a hand in your hair. His breath catches and his hips twitch, and you know: This is the beginning of the end.

His cock is heavy on your tongue, warm and pulsing, the taste of him already blooming against the back of your throat. He's still not thrusting, letting you drag your mouth over him slowly. Your lips glide down his length as far as they'll go, your tongue curling underneath as you pull them back, then down again, building a rhythm.

Above you, Xaden swears, quiet and savage. "Fuck, you're perfect. So fucking perfect with your mouth full of me."

His hand stays buried in your hair, fingers clenched tight, but he still doesn't force it. Doesn't need to. You're doing it for him - to him. And the look on his face is giving you confirmation you're doing something right, because it's nothing short of wrecked.

But what ruins you all over again, what truly undoes you, is that his shadows have never stopped. They're still moving inside you with terrifying intent.

The thick one inside your cunt is thrusting faster than before now, perfectly timed with the flickering pressure at your clit. The smaller tendril in your ass moves in a slow, careful motion, stretching you just enough to make your body twitch with every movement. Your wrists are still held high, legs shaking. Your entire body feels like one exposed, burning nerve.

You can't moan around his cock, but your throat vibrates with the effort.

Xaden feels it. He chokes out a curse, hips jerking forward just a little, and that's the moment you've been waiting for. His control finally snaps. "Shit - love, I'm gonna ... fuck, I'm-"

You look up at him, eyes wide, mouth full, and take it.

The shadows drive deep inside you, fast and hard now, and your body tips over the edge one last time. Your third orgasm of the night crashes through you like lightning rippling through your spine. Your hips buck, walls clenching around the tendrils inside you, every inch of you convulsing with a release so raw it leaves your vision blurring.

And above you, Xaden roars. His hand tightens in your hair, but he doesn't pull away. Instead, he thrusts deep one last time, spilling hot down your throat, groaning so low it seems to vibrate in your bones. His eyes are locked on yours the entire time, wild and worshipful and undone.

You swallow around him, reflexive, greedy, and he nearly collapses.

The shadows don't stop immediately. They ease, slow their movements, stroking you gently through the aftershocks as your whole body trembles, overstimulated and utterly spent. A soft, rippling sensation coils around your thighs, your belly, your chest, like they're trying to soothe you now. Trying to bring you gently down from your high.

When he finally pulls out, you're still breathing hard, lips parted, chest heaving. Xade drops to his knees in front of you. His hand cradles your jaw, his thumb wiping a tear you hadn't realized had fallen. His gaze searches yours, worried and full of something deeper than lust.

"You okay?" he asks in a whisper.

You nod. "I've never -" You break off, breath hitching.

He leans in, presses a single kiss to your damp cheek. Then your temple. Finally, your lips. Soft this time, with no demand behind it. Just him. Just your boyfriend.

"I know," he murmurs. "Me neither."

Time seems to lose all meaning after that.

You're not sure how long you sit there, body limp, shadows fading slowly like dusk melting into night. The bindings at your wrists release at last, and you let your arms fall with a shuddering sigh, your whole body humming, flushed and overstimmulated in the best way.

You barely notice when Xaden moves. It's only when you feel his arms around you that you do. Strong. Gentle. Steady.

He lifts you with seemingly no effort at all, one arm beneath your knees, the other around your back. You don't protest. You just let your head fall to his shoulder, your cheek resting against his bare skin, still damp with sweat and heat. His heart is racing.

He lies you down on his bed, real, solid, grounding, and eases you down like you're fragile. You aren't, of course, but gods, you're glad he treats you like you are right now.

Then he crawls into bed next to you, not reaching for more, not chasing the embers of lust still flickering in the air. He's just lying there, close and real.

You turn to him, your limbs slow and heavy, and he lifts the blanket over both of you. The heat of him seeps into your bones. His arm curls beneath your head, and his hand rests on your waist, holding you there like he's afraid you'll disappear.

And then, finally, he speaks. Quiet, almost uncharacteristically unsure. "I didn't go too far?"

You shake your head, brushing your nose against his chest. "You stopped every time you thought you might. You gave me every choice."

He exhales, which you can feel in your hair. "I've never done that before. With the shadows, I mean."

You pull back just enough to properly look at him in disbelief. "You've never used them during ...?"

His eyes meet yours, soft and unwavering. "Never. Not like this."

Your chest tightens as something inside you settles. "What was this, then?" you ask, not teasing. Just curious.

Xaden hesitates, then brushes his thumb across your cheek, the way he did when you were bound and writhing, only now with tenderness so thick it nearly breaks you.

"This," he says quietly, "was me showing you that you're not just another weapon I want at my side. You're the only thing I've ever wanted to fall for."

Your breath catches. There are no more shadows now. Just you, and him, and the sound of your heartbeat where it echoes against his chest.

And for the first time since setting foot in Basgiath, you feel safe. Loved. His.

[callsigns-haze]

A cousin fight

Pairing: Bodhi Durran x Sorrengail!Reader

Summary: Being Violet Sorrengail’s cousin was already hard enough—being caught sneaking out of your section leader Bodhi Durran’s bed at dawn by Xaden Riorson, fresh from Violet’s room, was a special kind of hell. But as each cousin interrogates the other, no lessons were learned.

Warning: Explicit content, mentions of smut, mutual pettiness, and way too many cousins making bad decisions.

Could be read as part two of a cousins mess or a standalone!

The second Violet shifts to the side, her bleary eyes blinking against the faint hallway light, you shove past her like a hurricane.

“Move.”

She barely stumbles back with a surprised, “What the—” before you’re already inside, spinning to face the door and slamming it shut with a sharp crack that rattles her books on the shelf.

You whirl around, chest heaving, hair still mussed from Bodhi’s pillow, and Bodhi’s shirt hanging down your thighs like a glowing beacon of your sins. But none of that matters right now. Because your cousin—your baby cousin—was just seen letting Xaden Riorson out of her room like he belonged there.

And you are not okay.

Violet takes a cautious step backward, clutching the ends of her sleep shirt. “Um…?”

You raise a single, trembling finger—your eyes wide, your mouth shut in that exact pre-explosion expression Mira wore the time she caught Violet climbing out the third-story window to avoid combat theory.

“Bed.” Your voice is low. Deadly. “Now.”

Violet blinks at you. “What—”

“Bed.” You point again like the words are a command spell, and she finally obeys, stumbling back and flopping down on the edge of her mattress like a guilty toddler.

The moment she’s seated, your hands slam down onto your hips as you stare at her like she’s personally responsible for the downfall of Navarre.

“What the actual fuck, Violet.”

She recoils slightly, pulling her legs up cross-legged and blinking rapidly. “What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s—? What’s wrong with me?! Violet Sorrengail, I just caught Xaden Riorson walking out of this room at five in the godsdamn morning looking like he’d just fought off three wyverns and then rolled around in your bedsheets!”

Her eyes go wide. “It wasn’t like that—”

“Oh really? Because his shirt was not existent, he was sweating, and he smelled like you. You don’t have to be bonded to a mind-reading dragon to put that puzzle together!”

“I didn’t ask him to come over!” she hisses defensively, cheeks flaming. “He just… showed up.”

“Oh sure,” you say with a wide-eyed mock innocence. “Just popped by for a friendly game of cards at four-thirty in the morning, I’m sure.”

She throws her hands up. “Nothing even happened! We were talking about Tairn and Sgaeyl, and Andarna’s new cycle, and it got late—”

“Don’t you dare try and spin this into a study session,” you snap, pacing back and forth now like Mira herself is speaking through you. “Do you have any idea what Mira will do to me if she finds out I let this happen? She didn’t say ‘keep Violet alive,’ she said ‘keep Violet safe from Xaden Riorson!’”

Violet groans into her hands. “Can we not do the whole overbearing cousin thing right now? I’ve had a week—”

“Oh no. No, ma’am. You don’t get to play tired and fragile when I just caught you violating every rule in the Cadet Handbook and the unofficial Mira Sorrengail Threat Index.”

You stop pacing, arms crossing tightly, narrowing your eyes at her. “Tell me the truth. Are you sleeping with him?”

Her face flames. “No! I mean—not like—We’re not—” She fumbles, floundering, and you stare her down with pure big cousin rage until she finally mutters, “…Not... I don't know.”

“VIOLET!”

She flops back onto the bed and groans into a pillow. “You’re such a drama queen.”

You take one threatening step forward. “And you’re such a disaster! Violet, he is literally part shadow. He lives in loopholes and has a murder list. He’s got ancient enemies and a dragon who could vaporize half the quadrant. And you are—you’re you!” you gesture helplessly. “Tiny. Breakable. Soft-hearted. You cannot just… do this!”

She peeks up from the pillow. “You’re wearing Bodhi’s shirt.”

You freeze.

She smirks.

Your eye twitches. “Sit. Back. Down.*”

You point at her so fast the fabric of Bodhi’s borrowed shirt shifts with the motion. “Do not try to change the subject.”

Violet just arches one pale brow, smug despite the pillow creasing her cheek and the way her hair’s flattened on one side.

You storm closer, arms crossed again, tone sharp and livid. “This isn’t about me! This is about you sneaking around with a broody, hulking, murder-happy man who once threatened to kill you during parapet!”

“He didn’t mean it,” she mumbles into the pillow.

You throw your hands in the air. “He never means it! Until someone ends up dead and he says, ‘it had to be done,’ and Tairn agrees with him!”

“He’s not that bad.”

“Oh, really?” you snort, leveling her with a death glare that would make even Colonel Aetos flinch. “Violet, he literally has shadows that listen to private conversations. He’s probably outside the door right now, tucked in the ceiling like a spider. Or worse—he’s using his bond to eavesdrop through Tairn.”

Violet sits up straighter, brow furrowed. “That’s not how bonding works.”

“Are you sure?! Because I’m not. And neither are you.”

You start pacing again, every step heavier, fuelled by a mix of panic, protectiveness, and the sheer audacity of Xaden Riorson walking out of your cousin’s bedroom like it was just another day.

“He’s a walking war crime in leathers, Vi. He has that permanent glower like he’s personally offended by sunlight. He speaks in cryptic half-threats and thinks ‘emotional vulnerability’ is a battlefield tactic.”

Violet groans.

“Do you even know how many people he's probably killed? Do you know how many first-years are still afraid to make eye contact with him? My dragon gets quiet when he's around!”

“He’s—complex,” Violet says softly.

You whirl around. “So is a fucking dragon storm, and you don’t try to kiss that!”

That makes her laugh, which only enrages you further.

“I’m serious! He's intense, unstable, and—gods, Vi—his entire aesthetic is grief and weapons! And let’s not forget the fact that he’s our Wingleader. Which means that when I inevitably have to beat the ever-loving shit out of him for defiling your bedsheets, I’ll probably get assigned to stable duty for a month.”

“You’re not beating up Xaden.”

“Don’t test me.”

“You couldn’t take him.”

“I don’t have to win, I just have to bite hard enough that he never tries this again.”

Violet giggles again, and you whip your head toward her like she’s lost her entire mind.

“You’re laughing?!”

“I’m sorry! I just—you’re stomping around in my room in my boyfriend’s cousin’s shirt, raving like a deranged overprotective big sister, and it’s—it’s kind of sweet.”

You snap, “This is not sweet, Violet. This is trauma. This is going to haunt me for years. Every time I look at him I’m going to see the guy who turned my sweet little cousin into a whisper-shouting sneak in the middle of the godsdamn hallway!”

“I’m not little anymore,” she murmurs, voice quiet but firm.

You freeze.

Your face softens for half a breath.

And then you shake your head furiously, fire reigniting. “Not the point!”

You stomp across the room, grab a pillow off her bed, and slap her lightly in the face with it.

She squeals. “Hey!”

“Stop kissing boys who are seventy percent vengeance and twenty percent scars!”

“Maybe I like vengeance.”

You blink. Then in a strangled voice: “Oh my gods, Mira’s going to kill me.”

You’re pacing again. Arms flailing in disbelief, heart pounding louder than your voice. “I just—how?! How could you forgive him, Vi?”

Violet's brow tightens. She shifts forward on the bed, eyes suddenly a little more alert, more cautious. “Forgive who?”

You whip around, eyes wide. “Xaden.”

“I didn’t—” she begins, but you cut her off with a shaky breath, voice raw now, not from shouting but from everything underneath it.

“You know what his father did. What he helped do. Brennan is dead, Violet. He died because of the war your boyfriend's father helped orchestrate. And now you’re—what, playing house with his son?”

She flinches.

You almost wish you hadn’t said it. But it’s out now, and you can’t take it back. The silence that follows isn’t comfortable, not even close. It’s scorched earth. It’s the kind of silence that echoes louder than screams.

“Do you think Brennan would be proud of that?” you whisper, like the words are cracked glass in your throat. “Do you think he'd be okay with this? With you falling for the son of the man who might as well have put the sword in his back himself?”

Violet’s face twists—not in guilt, not in shame, but something more painful. She looks at you like she wishes you didn’t know how deeply she’s already thought about all this. Like she’s had to live in the same storm you’re now drowning in.

“You think I haven’t asked myself that every day since I realized I had feelings for him?” she says softly, hands knotting in the blanket. “You think I don’t know what it means? What it might look like?”

You cross your arms, leaning hard into the dresser behind you. “Then how are you still with him?”

“Because he’s not his father.” Her voice is quiet, but not weak. “And if anyone understands what it’s like to be judged for their parent’s choices—it’s you. It’s me.”

You flinch this time. She’s right. And that’s the worst part.

Still, your jaw tightens. “That’s not the same. Brennan was our family, Vi.”

“I know.” Her voice breaks. “Don’t you think I know?”

The silence that falls between you both is grief-shaped. Heavy. Guilt-soaked.

You exhale shakily, dragging your hands down your face. “I just don’t want you to get hurt. Again.”

Her voice is small. “I don’t want to get hurt either.”

You lower yourself onto the edge of her bed, finally still, fingers curling tightly into the sheets. “And I don’t want to lose anyone else.”

She touches your wrist gently, just enough to ground you. “You’re not going to lose me.”

You shake your head once, slow. “You don’t get to promise that anymore. Not here.”

Not at Basgiath.

Not in a war where dragons choose their riders and the next fall could be your last. Not when people who love each other are dying for causes bigger than they can carry. You sit there in silence for another heartbeat, still winded from the weight of it all. The shared grief. The worry. The ghosts you both carry.

But then your eyes drift—casually, absently—across her room.

And you see it.

You blink once. Twice.

And then you recoil.

“…Violet.”

She stiffens.

“Why the hell is your armoire in pieces?!”

She looks at it—like she forgot it was even there—and winces. “It, uh… wasn’t really built to withstand, um… intense movement.”

You stare at her like she’s lost her godsdamn mind.

“Intense movement?!”

You leap up from the bed like it’s on fire, clutching Bodhi’s oversized shirt against your chest like it’s some kind of holy shield. “You defiled a government-issued furniture piece, Violet!”

“Okay, calm down, it was just—”

“Don’t say it!” You throw your hands out, nearly knocking over the small stack of textbooks on her desk. “Do not finish that sentence!”

You whirl around, eyes wide in absolute, soul-deep horror, surveying the wreckage. The crooked dresser. The unhinged cabinet door. The pillow on the floor like it had been discarded in a rush.

And the godsdamn armoire — the massive thing — cracked down the back like someone had slammed into it.

“Oh my stars,” you gasp. “Was it him?! Did he—did he throw you against it?!”

“I consented!” Violet squeaks.

You gag.

You actually gag, one hand flying to your mouth. “Stop talking!”

“You asked!”

“I regret it immediately!”

You’re pacing again, but now it’s erratic, like your soul is trying to flee your body and your legs can’t decide which direction to go.

“This is a crime scene, Violet! An actual war crime! There’s splinters on the floor!”

“Would you rather we used my desk?!”

You snap your head toward her, horrified. “You considered the desk?!”

Violet shrugs helplessly. “I mean, Tairn said—”

“Oh my god. Your dragon was giving you sex advice?!”

“Don’t say it like that!”

“I’m saying it like that because *you let Xaden Riorson reduce this room to rubble like he’s re-enacting the Fall of Aretia with your furniture!”

You stomp toward the door, but then stop and whirl on her again. “Did you at least reinforce the wards?! What if someone heard?! What if Dain heard?!”

Violet snorts. “He wouldn’t know what an orgasm sounds like if it sat on his face and sang the Navarrian anthem.”

You shriek. “I need to leave immediately.”

Violet is doubled over, laughing now.

You’re already at the door, opening it with your hand over your eyes. “I’m going to find a priest and a memory scrubber and possibly a crowbar for what’s left of your closet. Don’t speak to me. Ever again.”

“Love you!” she calls after you.

“Disowning you!” you yell back as the door slams.

The hallway is quiet, save for the fading echo of your outraged exit a few doors down. But at the other end of the corridor, a door opens with a distinct click — Bodhi Durran’s.

The creak is slow, lazy almost, as if the person behind it hadn't been in any particular rush to answer the knock.

Bodhi leans against the doorframe like he owns the entire Wing, one hand braced against the wood, the other gripping the knot of the towel slung low around his hips. His chest glistens with the sheen of steam still clinging to his skin, fresh from the short, post-makeout rinse he barely had time to enjoy. His damp curls cling slightly to his forehead, a few drops sliding down the strong line of his neck toward the sculpted dip of his collarbone.

He raises a brow, unconcerned. “This better be good.”

He doesn’t even get the full sentence out before Xaden Riorson storms past him, one heavy palm on Bodhi’s shoulder, shoving him aside as he bulldozes straight into the room like he owns it.

“What the hell is wrong with you cousin?!” Xaden snaps over his shoulder, black eyes flashing like a thunderhead about to break.

Bodhi stumbles slightly from the shove, towel shifting just enough to threaten a dangerous descent, but he catches it with one hand, letting out a heavy sigh as he watches Xaden stalk inside.

“I don’t know,” Bodhi mutters, closing the door behind them with a thud. “But I can already tell this conversation’s gonna require pants.”

Bodhi eyes Xaden from across the room with an expression caught between exhausted amusement and growing dread. The towel around his waist is definitely not built for sudden interrogation — or for fending off a Wingleader with vengeance in his eyes.

He raises both brows and gestures vaguely to his very unclothed state. “Can I, I don’t know, put on some underwear before you start your full-scale inquisition?”

Xaden doesn’t even blink. He just glares. Hard. Like he’s imagining burning a hole straight through Bodhi’s skull with the force of sheer familial disappointment.

“No,” Xaden growls, voice edged in barely contained fury. “I want to know what the fuck you’re doing with her.”

Bodhi blinks. Then sighs, running a hand through his damp curls. “Okay. So it’s that conversation.”

“You think this is funny?” Xaden snaps, stepping further into the room, arms crossed, jaw tight enough to crack obsidian. “Because I’m not laughing, Boh.”

“Clearly.” Bodhi moves slowly toward the dresser in the corner, still facing his cousin as if afraid turning his back might get him tackled. “You want to yell at me half-naked, that’s your call, but I’m putting on boxers before your rage gives me shrinkage.”

Xaden growls something unintelligible, but doesn’t stop him.

Bodhi yanks open the top drawer, slips a pair of black boxers on under the towel with one hand, and tosses the towel to the bed with a snap of his wrist. He doesn’t bother with a shirt. Doesn’t need one — especially not when facing down a pissed-off Riorson. Might as well make it even.

“You done glaring holes into my ribcage?” Bodhi asks dryly, turning to face him fully now.

“I trusted you,” Xaden snarls.

“And I didn’t break her,” Bodhi shoots back, voice sharp. “Unlike you with Violet’s damn armoire.”

Xaden’s nostrils flare. “This isn’t a joke, Bodhi. She’s a first-year. She’s Mira’s and Violet's cousin. She’s—”

“She’s not a child,” Bodhi cuts in, suddenly serious. “She’s in our section. She survived the parapet. She sparred her way to the top ten. And she can kiss me without your fucking permission.”

Xaden’s jaw ticks, his eyes molten and furious, but beneath the rage, there’s something else—protectiveness. The same kind of blind, irrational fury you showed when you shoved past Violet earlier.

“You don’t get it,” Xaden says lowly. “If she gets hurt—if she dies—”

“I’d be the one burying her too,” Bodhi says, softer now. “So don’t think I don’t get it, cousin. I just don’t think yelling at me half-naked is gonna change anything.”

The silence stretches between them, tense and brimming with unsaid things.

Finally, Bodhi sighs. “You done?”

Xaden’s answer is just a dark glower.

“I’ll take that as a no,” Bodhi mutters, flopping onto the edge of his bed, dragging a hand down his face. “At least sit down if you’re gonna scold me. You’re starting to give off serious uncle energy.”

“Fuck off.”

“Good morning to you too.”

Bodhi’s elbows rest on his knees, still shirtless, still exasperated as Xaden paces like a caged dragon in the middle of the room. The silence is taut, bristling with the tension of things neither of them really want to say but know they’re both about to scream anyway.

Then Bodhi lifts his head, dark eyes narrowed.

“You really don’t hear yourself, do you?” he says, low and clipped.

Xaden stops pacing.

Bodhi rises to his feet slowly, stepping closer. Not aggressive — just grounded. Tired. Fed up.

“You’re losing your mind over me seeing her,” he says, gesturing vaguely toward the hallway where you’d stormed away, “but you’re literally screwing Violet Sorrengail, who is her cousin.”

Xaden’s eyes flash like flint struck against steel.

Bodhi tilts his head. “I mean, forgive me if I’m missing something, but isn’t that, like... hypocrisy 101?”

“You think this is the same?” Xaden grits out.

“Oh, I don’t know, Xay,” Bodhi says with biting sarcasm. “Let’s ask Mira. I’m sure she’d love to hear how both her baby sister and cousin are getting dicked down by Riorsons.”

Xaden lunges.

Only half a step — a surge of fury too fast to leash — but Bodhi doesn’t flinch.

“Do it,” he says, jaw locked. “Let’s fight about it like idiots. I’d love for the whole Wing to hear that the great Xaden Riorson lost his shit because his cousin kissed someone with his her name.”

Before Xaden can bark a reply, a loud knock slams against the door.

Then it swings open, fast and unapologetic, revealing Garrick Tavis, shirtless in loose sweats and socks, looking half-awake and fully nosy.

“Okay,” Garrick says, lifting a hand, “first of all — I heard yelling, and since this is your room, Boh, I just assumed it was either a fight or someone naked.”

His gaze sweeps across the room. He sees Xaden — hair wild, face thunderous, boots still laced — and then Bodhi — shirtless, glowering, muscles tense.

“Oh,” Garrick says brightly. “It’s both. Excellent.”

He steps inside and closes the door behind him with a sharp click.

“Don’t let me stop you,” he says, flopping unceremoniously onto the floor like he’s settling in for story time at the Archives. “Continue. I can pretend I’m not even here.”

Xaden turns slowly to him, incredulous. “Garrick—”

Garrick raises both hands like a peacekeeper. “No, no, you’re doing great. There was shouting, there was moral indignation, and I’m pretty sure someone’s towel fell off at some point, so honestly, I’m emotionally invested now.”

Bodhi pinches the bridge of his nose. “He’s useless.”

“Rude,” Garrick says cheerfully from the floor.

“You want to hear the tea so badly?” Bodhi snaps. “Here it is: Xaden thinks I’m not allowed to kiss anyone.”

“Incorrect,” Xaden bites out. “I think you’re not allowed to kiss her.”

“Again, with the hypocrisy,” Bodhi growls, throwing his hands in the air.

Garrick blinks, then slowly grins. “Wait... her? As in—oh my gods, her her?”

Both cousins glare at him in unison.

Garrick just laughs and lounges back on his elbows. “No no, don’t mind me. This is so much better than the interrogation drills.”

Xaden rubs a hand over his face like he's resisting the urge to throttle everyone in the room.

“You’re both idiots,” he mutters.

“Thanks,” Bodhi says flatly. “That clears things up.”

BONUS SCENE — A MONTH LATER Basgiath War College, Hall of the Fourth Wing Dormitories

The stone halls echo with soft footfalls and the easy thrum of conversation, their group clustered together as they make their way toward Bodhi’s room — late, of course, because Bodhi is never on time for anything before 10 a.m., especially not sparring drills.

Violet walks beside Xaden, one hand absently adjusting the strap on her shoulder as she listens to Liam animatedly rehash yesterday’s match between Ridoc and a second-year from Flame Section. The boy’s eyes are wide, cheeks pink with excitement as he mimics Ridoc’s footwork like a little shadow.

“His blade went whoosh,” Liam says, swinging an invisible sword in front of him, “and then he spun and kicked the guy’s knee in!”

Ridoc grins. “I did not kick his knee in.”

“You kind of did,” Imogen says, smirking.

“You definitely did,” Xaden mutters, lips twitching.

“Okay, but did you see the way he blinked at me after I knocked the dagger out of his hand?” Ridoc’s hands shoot out for emphasis. “It was like he thought I cheated. I mean, you’d think I laced his water with belladonna the way he—”

“Speaking of belladonna,” Imogen cuts in, raising a brow. “Bodhi’s still in bed, isn’t he?”

“He said he was setting an alarm,” Violet replies, already unconvinced.

Xaden scoffs. “He also said he’d stop stealing my shirts and giving them back covered in glitter.”

Imogen snorts. “That was definitely from her.”

The group rounds the corner and stops in front of Bodhi’s door. Xaden raises his fist to knock—

And that’s when it happens.

A loud, unmistakable moan pierces the wooden frame of the door. Feminine. Drawn out. Followed immediately by Bodhi’s teasing voice, low and rough:

“You gonna answer that quiz now, or do I need to make you beg for the answer key again?”

Another moan. Louder this time. Rhythmic thumping follows — gods, is that the headboard?

Violet freezes mid-step. Her face turns the color of boiled bloodroot.

Xaden jerks his hand back from the door like it burned him.

“Nope,” Violet gasps, eyes huge. “Absolutely the fuck not—”

“Nope nope nope nope—” Xaden’s already halfway down the hallway, practically sprinting like his life depends on it.

Violet takes off after him, her braid slapping over her shoulder as she gags dramatically. “WHY IS THIS MY LIFE?!”

“MY COUSIN!” Xaden yells from around the corner. “YOUR COUSIN!”

Back in front of the door, Garrick leans casually against the wall, one brow arched, arms folded across his chest, looking far too smug.

He glances at Ridoc and Imogen, then at Liam — who’s now clapping a hand over his mouth, clearly trying not to laugh.

“I told you they were fucking,” Garrick says, a satisfied grin blooming across his face. “You all said I was full of shit, but who’s the Wing’s all-seeing oracle now?”

Imogen snorts so hard she wheezes. “I hate that you were right.”

“Did they say something about quiz answers? You know what? Go girl.” Ridoc asks, delighted and horrified. “Is she studying while—”

“Oh, gods,” Imogen blurts, pressing both hands to her ears. “Make it stop.”

Garrick shrugs, utterly unbothered. “Hey, I say we leave them be. Sparring starts in twenty — let him show up late and sore.”

“I’m never touching his sparring gloves again,” Ridoc mutters, wrinkling his nose.

Liam leans in conspiratorially. “Wait...does this mean we win the betting pool?”

Garrick’s grin goes wolfish. “Damn right it does.”

And somewhere behind that door, you moan Bodhi’s name again — loud, uninhibited, and unapologetic.

Ridoc chokes. “Okay, I’m out. I’m burning my ears.”

They all turn on their heels and head back down the hallway, still laughing, still in disbelief — while far ahead, the sounds of Violet and Xaden continuing to scream about “boundaries,” “cousin crimes,” and “needing bleach for their minds” echo faintly from the courtyard below.

Reblogs, comments and asks are appreciated!

credits to @empyreanevents for the dividers!

[quietstormxr]

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Part 2 of 'Forgotten'

Angst, Fluff

Poll Chosen : Xaden Riorson x Reader

Summary: After leaving Navarre behind, you promise yourself you will fight with or without your dragon and beloved. Fighting though, for some reason always leads you to Xaden.

A/N: FW/IF Spoilers.

Word Count: >28k (settle in and get comfy)

I really hope y'all enjoy this one. Let me know what you think.

Forgotten - Tomorrow, Always Tomorrow

What does one do when they run away from their dragon and desert their war college? 

Hide, of course. 

Pausing at a copse of trees, you sink down to your knees and pull the now tattered cloak as firmly around your shoulders as you can. The bitter chill of the wind has begun to settle into your bones as you miss the warmth of a roaring fire and warm bed.

Days of traveling by foot have taken a grueling toll on your body. Though you haven’t gone hungry, thanks to your foresight of paying attention to infantry during RSC missions, the small game that you’ve caught and cooked over small fires has not done much to satisfy your hunger. The fire, in turn, barely warms your hands and feet when the night chill settles in.

As your head rests against the back of a tree, you take a deep breath trying to clear your mind. Even though you succeeded in your plan to slip away, it doesn’t take away the hurt that has twisted like a knife in your heart every step growing more painful than the last. Taking shallow breaths, you try to will away the devastation that seems to settle in your entire being.

The connection to your dragon has seemed to go dormant, a hollow feeling taking its place in your soul. You’re unsure if it will ever break completely, but you haven’t tried to pull towards it either. 

Reflecting on the bond, you can’t help but wonder if your dragon is glad to be rid of a rider that let themselves fall into the background. You feel a sense of cowardice and guilt wash over you at leaving everyone to fight the coming war. It’s that heartache of being a coward, for your dragon and beloved, that finally solidified a decision for your probably short future. 

As you were already in Poromiel, you knew there was no going back to Navarre. Besides, the Poromish have been fighting for much longer and are attacked more often if your experience in Resson was anything to go by.  

A few days prior you came across a small village, the people there wary of you dressed in all black leathers. Those reactions caused you to immediately find the nearest tailor and buy a new set of clothes with the little money you had with you.  The tailor was obviously distrusting of you, but no one was going to turn down coin when living in a small village, never knowing when your next sale would be. 

Although you purchased a wool shift dress, you didn’t have enough for a new cloak, hence the tattered holes that riddled yours from days of sleeping in the woods. 

Taking a deep breath, you lay down to get some sleep for the night hoping that the villagers were right, and you will arrive in Pavis in the morning. 

At the first sign of dawn, you sit up stretching out your back and muscles that have cramped during the night from sleeping on the hard ground. As soon as you feel blood flowing back into your extremities, you stand slowly wiping the sleep from your eyes. Staggering forward, you head toward the small stream you had noticed before picking this area to camp for the night. 

As soon as you arrive you drop down and splash the cold water on your face and drink your fill of the clean, cool water. The shock of cold sends a shiver down your body, doing wonders in pushing the last vestiges of sleep from your mind.

You begin walking in the same southeastern direction the villagers had directed you in just four days ago. Letting a small groan fall from your lips, you try to forget the sluggish feeling that has overtaken your body from so many days of travel. 

It’s as if Amari and Zinhal have finally thought to bless you as you finally see a large town come into view. A sigh of relief escapes you as you finally see a town that rivals Chantara and not just a small village with nothing there.

You drag your tired body to the first tavern you see and take a deep breath at the smell of spiced, roasted meats filling your lungs. A second later, your stomach growls loudly in protest of not being filled. Sitting down at the bar, you open your pack fishing for the remaining coin.

Pulling out your small purse, you drop the contents on the bar in front of the barkeep.

“What can I get for this?” You ask, hoping beyond hope that you can get something filling. 

“Not much. I can probably get you a small bowl of stew and a glass of wine.” The barkeep replies giving you a slightly suspicious look. 

It dawns on you that the man can probably hear the accent you have when you speak the Krovlish language. You may be proficient, but it’s been almost impossible to hide your accent.

“That would be lovely.” You say hoping that you can seem as harmless as possible. At least you know that no one will see the daggers that are strapped to your body since the shift you bought covers them well. 

As soon as you exchange the coins, you are presented with a small steel bowl filled with a delicious smelling stew of beef and local vegetables. You dig in, savoring every single bite that begins to warm you from the inside out, letting out a contented sigh as the food hits your empty stomach. As you continue eating, you can see the barkeep watching you from the corner of your eye. In order to beat some of the suspicion, you take the chance and begin talking. 

“Can I ask if you are currently looking for any help?” You ask as you begin to bring the wine cup to your lips. 

The barkeep, a middle-aged man with bronzed skin and dark blue eyes that are clearly analyzing your motives. “You don’t seem like you’re from here. Where are you coming from?”

At the question, you startle slightly but make sure to hide your surprise at the question. “I’ve been displaced since the invasion in Resson.”

You decide that being as truthful as possible will be the only way to go, hopefully garnering the trust of the man you are currently speaking with. The barkeep continues to look you over, but you don’t miss the pitying gaze that he gives you. You can’t help but scoff internally as you realize how in the dark the people of Navarre have become, but obviously venin attacks are openly spoken about.

“I’m looking for a bed and to make some money.” You begin to explain exactly what you’re trying to find. “Eventually, I hope to join the rest of your military to fight against the threat that’s being ignored past your borders.”

“And why would I believe that? You’re obviously Navarrian. What if you’re just here to cause trouble?” The barkeep drolls on, but the calculation in his eyes is obvious. “Besides, I thought only a riot of dragon riders helped to fight in Resson.”

The wince is impossible to keep off your face. Taking a large sigh, you let everything out. You tell the barkeep that you were a rider, having since left your dragon, Basgiath, and Navarre behind. You try to convey the conviction you feel about helping the people of Poromiel and the overarching continent, even recounting the tale of the little girl you saved. As you begin to finish, you can see the hard lines of the barkeep’s expression begin to smooth. 

“I’m not sure how you pulled off leaving a dragon behind, as well as Basgiath, but you seem genuine.” He says matter-of-factly. “Tell you what…We’ll have a trial. You help around the tavern with any tasks given and you can stay on the cot near the kitchens.”

“And, if you’re serious about joining the war effort, I’ll get in touch with those I know in the military and see if I can get you involved.” The thankful smile that falls across your face is a relief from the sadness and fear that had gripped you over the last few days. 

“That sounds wonderful.” There’s no way to hide the earnestness in your voice. “I appreciate your kindness and willingness to give me a chance. Things haven’t been easy the last few days.”

“Well, if you’re going to be staying here, introductions are in order. My name is Redvers, but you can call me, Red. Ceridwen is my wife, and she runs the kitchens.” Red holds out his hand to shake and you take it enthusiastically, happy to finally be able to have someone to at least converse with and give you a chance. 

“I’m Y/N. I really won’t be able to thank you enough for this.”

He chuckles. “Don’t thank me too much yet, you haven’t worked or have even seen where you’ll be sleeping.”

“I doubt any cot could be worse than the cold, hard ground.” You mutter ruminating on how nice it will be to sleep somewhere other than on the forest floor.

“Come, you can begin working tomorrow. Tonight, you can rest and get settled.”

Red leads you to a small room that is only large enough to house a cot and small table. You look back at him and smile as you take your pack off and place it next to the table. 

“Let me know if you need anything, the tavern is usually open late into the evening.” Red says before turning and closing the small door. 

You immediately try to light a mage light and as you try for the third time, it finally hits you. All the powers you had are now gone. You fumble in the room until you find a candle and a flint to light it. As soon as the small flame is lit, you fall to the cot and your head falls back onto the pillow. 

Finally feeling some semblance of safety, all the emotions you’d drowned out since a silver haired girl entered the scene crashes down at once. 

Staring at the beams of the ceiling, you try to normalize your breathing, but its useless. Your body has gone into shock, panic overtaking your every sense. Breathing is erratic, and tears are streaming down your face in a torrent as your body begins to shiver and shake in response to your breaking. You turn to the side and curl up into the tightest ball you possibly can and let yourself fall completely apart. 

You’re unsure of when or how you fell asleep, but as you wake with a pounding headache, you realize at some point in the night your body must’ve given out. The emotion that overtook you taking every ounce of energy you had left in your body. As you trudge from the bed, you look to see someone brought a pitcher of water while you’ve been out. 

Pouring yourself a cup of water and staring out of the small window you hadn’t noticed when you entered, you try to take a deep breath though all you feel is a hollowness. As you stare into the night sky, the sadness of now being alone settles like a heavy cloak. All you can do is count your breaths and hope that you made the right decision. 

A few days go by, and you find yourself getting into the groove of assisting in the tavern. You begin noticing the townspeople that seem to come in regularly. A few fliers have also made themselves known, although you know they have no idea their enemy is feeding them stew and serving them wine and ale. 

You grow close to both Red and Ceridwen, learning of their story and their families. You never thought you would find such wonderful and caring people, especially when you just randomly walked into this space. They welcomed you as if you were the daughter they never had. 

Ceridwen began taking you under her wing and helping cook in the kitchens, teaching you recipes you’d never seen before. It was there that you could hear the conversations and gossip from those coming through the tavern. 

“I don’t know what he thinks he’s going to accomplish with Sorrengail.” Your ears immediately perk up at the name going to stand closer to the serving window of the kitchen.

“Look Cat, it doesn’t matter what he’s doing either way. The betrothal is null and void. There is no reason for you to bother with Riorson any longer.” Your eyes flash as you realize who they are talking about, but then they furrow trying to place the name Cat. 

“You and I both know he’s not really in love with her. If there’s one thing that I learned being betrothed to the bastard is that he’s incapable of feelings besides calculation and revenge.” You’re unsure why but her words about Xaden make your blood begin to boil. 

“Just because he wasn’t emotionally available for you doesn’t mean he’s emotionless. Stop being so petty.” The other girl counters, obviously trying to put this Cat girl in her place.

“Secondly, if that is the case, what would you call the other girl that always had him distracted.” 

“Oh her, she was never a threat. Besides, look how easily she was left behind. The group didn’t even notice they were leaving with a riderless dragon when flying out of Resson. Some feelings he had for her if she was that forgettable.” The defiant tone in Cat’s voice causes a stone to settle in your stomach. 

With the last statement, you move out of earshot of anyone in the tavern. The knife that’s been embedded in your heart since you disappeared turns a little tighter making it hard to breathe. You can’t help but wonder when the knife will just explode and either kill you or leave you so emotionless you can’t be hurt anymore.

The rest of the day passes as if molasses through the eye of a needle. When you are finally able to retire for the night, you fall on your cot and try to breathe through the heartache that seemed to settle inside you, a tight band constricting further and further across your chest. 

When you rise the next morning, you are more set than ever that you need to get to the front lines of this war. If you are going to lose your life, you might as well lose it while trying to fight the real enemy, maybe then the hollow feeling in your chest will stop. 

As soon as you can, you go to speak with Red. “Have you had any luck finding someone to connect you with the military?”

The surprised look on Red’s face is almost comical, maybe he didn’t think you were serious about that part. He motions for you to sit down at a stool, and he sits next to you.

“I spoke with one of the commanders of the drifts. She has instructed that if you are interested, you will have to bring your supplication to Viscount Tecarus in Cordyn.” Red finishes and he looks at you directly as if to ascertain if this is what you want.

“How exactly do I get to Cordyn from here?” Asking that question makes his face fall slightly.

“Are you sure that is the path you wish to take? Ceridwen and I are more than happy to help you and let you continue living here. We’ve both come to enjoy your company over the past weeks.” The sad look that Red gives you causes you to let out a sad smile. You never thought deserting your position as a rider would end up leading you to people who had become surrogate parents. 

You get up and sling your arms around Red. Although startled, he wraps his arms around your waist in a warm hug. 

“You really have no idea how much it warms my heart to hear you say that.” You pause trying to find the right words. “But all my life I’ve been left behind. Now, I have the opportunity to stand up for those who cannot and if I fall doing so, at least I know I died honorably.”

You can see the sadness in his face as he comes to terms with the fact that you won’t be changing your mind. Red gives you a small smile and squeezes your hand.

“Give me a few days and I will help get you to Cordyn. On foot or by carriage it takes several days, but I may be able to get you a flight with one of the gryphons.”

Your eyes widen as you take in his words. “Would a gryphon even allow someone besides their flier on their back? Won’t they know that I was a dragon rider?” You can’t help the thought and fear that grips you. 

“Yes, you would be allowed to fly. And no, they won’t know you were a rider.” Red says with so much conviction your brows knit together. “You see I know a little about bonds, between gryphons and dragons.”

“When a bond is tested by the rider or flier, it can be broken if the gryphon or dragon chooses to do so. I’m unsure if your dragon has chosen to break the bond, as its hard for a human to decipher, but the gryphon won’t be able to sense it as it is buried.”

“How exactly do you know all of that?” You can’t keep the confused look off your face at the new information.

“Because back in my younger days, I was a gryphon flier myself.” Your eyes widen as you take in the new information. 

“Why didn’t you kill me on-site?” The question forms unbidden on your tongue and escapes before you can stop it.

Red gives you a warm smile before stating simply. “Because you fought for those who needed help. You chose to aid someone you were taught was the enemy without question and saved a young girl. Valor like that is worth more than just being classified as a dragon rider or gryphon flier.” 

Without even forming the thought, you find yourself back in his warm embrace. “Thank you for trusting me and recognizing something in me that most other people seem to take for granted.”

“I think you underestimate how many people see your loyalty, honor, and valor. However, I do believe that all those qualities can be taken for granted. It’s not uncommon to be left behind when you quietly lift people up.” He pauses with a thoughtful look on his face. “It isn’t usually until those people lose the person that held them high that they realize everything they had and lost.”

With those words, Red leaves you to get to work getting the tavern set up for the day. 

The parting words seem to continue to float in your mind for days. You never wanted to be taken for granted, but it seemed like your entire life people always just assumed you would be there. You knew that your nature to be a safe haven in the storms of life for everyone was something people loved. However, when it was calm, you always felt that people would let you drift behind. A forgotten force only needed to bolster someone in times of trouble.

Thinking your time at Basgiath over, you realized that you had always been a haven for Xaden and his group. You were constantly there trying to help them in every way you could. What you didn’t realize was that they played you for a fool, taking advantage of your willingness to help. 

Reflecting, you remember all the times you told them about the weapons that Emmetterio would have brought in and even showed them the forge at Basgiath. You had signed up for weapons maintenance, and they ended up having clear access to everything they were looking for from you. You shake your head as all the small things you missed come crashing down. 

Luckily today was a rare occasion where Ceridwen had you going to the market to pick up supplies, so you weren’t trying to serve anyone as the reality of everything began to crash into you. 

You stop on your way to the market and let yourself sink down on a large rock not far from the road. You want to cry, but you just don’t have any tears left to give. Time and time again you feel like you were just a pawn in someone’s game. 

Anger at yourself, Xaden, and everyone that you considered a friend at Basgiath begins to make your blood heat. How could you have been so naïve?

With a tumult of emotions roaring through your body, you head back to the tavern, the market all but forgotten. A new determination coils inside your mind as you realize the only way to get through these feelings is to be useful. You want to get lost in the adrenaline of war, of putting your life on the line and not caring the outcome.

As if Red can read your thoughts, the minute you return to the tavern he is waiting with a dark-haired man in form fitting brown leathers. You pull up short not expecting to have anyone expecting your arrival.

“Ah, just who I was looking for.” Red says as he gestures for you to join him and his companion. 

You begin forward hesitantly not really knowing how to proceed with someone that is so visibly a flier. All of your instincts from years of hearing they were the enemy causing your trepidation to rise, though you try to tamp it down as Red gives you a look of assurance. You take a deep calming breath and know that you must put your trust in the man that has helped you over the last two months.  

“Y/N, this is Drake Cordella.” Red says motioning to the man next to him. Drake immediately puts his hand out to shake yours and gives you a warm smile.

“Pleasure to meet you, Y/N.” Drake says warmly, and you give him a small nod and smile in return while shaking his hand firmly.

“Pleasure to meet you as well. I’m assuming that Red has informed you on my want to join the war effort.” You decide bluntness about the whole situation is better than trying to skirt around the edges. 

“Yes, he’s filled me in on your situation shall we say.” A questioning look is immediately shot to Red who is still just smiling back at you.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. Drake is a close friend of mine. He won’t divulge any information if you wish to keep it secret.” Red reassures you letting your heart settle a little. 

“I assure you, giving up any information on you is the last thing I want to do. However, I am curious as to how things are for you since being separated from your bond for so long.” Taking a look around the tavern, you can’t help the unease that settles at talking about this topic in the open.

“Would you both mind talking somewhere a little more private? I haven’t gone this long without being discovered to out myself now.” You ask, hoping you can go to Red’s office that is at the back and soundproof.

“Of course, lets head to my office.” Red says leading the way to the back.

As soon as the three of you are inside and comfortable, you take a deep breath and share the details of the past two months with them. Divulging the way your bond seems to be underneath a glass layer or buried at the bottom of a clear lake, you can still sense the pull, but it has weakened enormously. Confirming that you haven’t been able to communicate with your dragon or even draw any semblance of power. Turning on mage lights, powering pens, opening and locking doors with magic, all seem to be lost to you with the bond being silent. 

They both seem to listen in rapt fascination. You realize it may not be ideal to tell the ‘enemy’ all this information, but you are certain that you won’t be seeing any Navarrians any time soon. While talking, you watch Drake move to brace his elbows on his knees as if you are telling the most fascinating story he’s ever been told.

“You were one of the riders that fought in Resson?” Drake questions, his face becoming one of contemplation. 

“Yes, I rescued a young girl and killed a venin before, as some would say, I deserted my riot.” You bring your head down to the floor suddenly ashamed of your actions. 

“None of that.” You catch Drake waving his hand off noncommittally at your comment. “You obviously don’t know this, but your disappearance is well known in Poromiel. I believe those in Navarre believe you are dead, at least I believe that is part of the story Riorson and Sorrengail spun.”

Your nose crinkles and stomach sours at the mention of both Xaden and Sorrengail, two names you hope you’d never hear again, let alone see.

“You see, I believe you have someone looking very intently for your whereabouts.” You can’t help the scoff that immediately leaves your lips. If there is anything you won’t believe its that anyone from Navarre is looking for you. 

“Besides, I believe your dragon has kicked up a bit of a fuss for those in the vale if the rumors are to be believed.” You stare back at Drake not believing how much he seems to know about you and your situation. Shaking your head, you decide its time to now get back down to the real business and not idle gossip. 

“Will any of that deter you from taking me to help the Poromish with this war?” You question. “You see, I don’t rightly care about parsing through any attachments to Navarre or any of the people in it. However, I do care about helping as much as I can to eliminate the threat of the venin.”

A sly smile marks a change in Drake’s demeanor moving past the questioning of your ties to Navarre. 

“I respect that is your decision. Red and I have discussed this, and I wanted to see if you would like to accompany me to Cordyn to meet my uncle.” Drake informs.

“If meeting with the Viscount is the only way that I can prove my intention to aid, then I’m ready to leave whenever you are.” The conviction in your voice makes Drake give you a curt nod, even as Red gives you a sad smile.

“Ceridwen and I are going to miss you, Y/N.” Red says sincerity lining every word. “Please know that you will always have a home here.”

Those words cause you to immediately stand and cross the room, wrapping your arms tightly around the man that welcomed you warmly into his domain. 

“No words will convey how thankful I am that you took a chance on me. Thank you for your loyalty, comfort, and love. Without those things, I’m not sure if I would’ve survived much longer.” You whisper for only him to hear. “I will be forever grateful to you for absolutely everything you’ve done for me.”

After giving him another tight squeeze, you head to your rooms to begin packing the few things that were yours. A light knock on the door brings your attention away from combing through the last of the items. Before you can say a word, Ceridwen comes in carrying a small box and a sad smile on her lips.

“Red told me that you’ll be heading out with Drake soon.” She says matter-of-factly moving to stand at your side while you give a small nod. “You may not have been with us long but know that you’ll always be like a daughter to us.”

As she finishes, she hands out the small box to you. You take it and can’t help the gasp that escapes you as you open it. Inside a black velvet box is a gold necklace with a small round pendant. You examine the pendant, and your eyebrow raises at the runes carved into one side. Ceridwen goes to take the necklace from you and places it on your neck. 

“Keep this on you at all times, especially in Cordyn.” She states firmly. “You may or may not know this, but fliers usually have gifts that entail mind work.”

She pauses as if thinking through her words as she grabs your shoulders and turns you around. “You can trust Drake, but there are those who – if they find out who you are- will do anything to make your life miserable.”

Staring back at Ceridwen, you know that the words she is giving you are for your benefit, not to scare you or coerce you to stay. 

“Thank you.” You begin as you wrap her in a hug just as fierce as the one you gave her husband. “I know we may not cross paths again, but please know how much you and Red mean to me. I told him already, but there aren’t enough thank you’s in the world to give you for everything that you’ve done for me.”

Ceridwen hugs you back just as fiercely before stepping away, you must take a deep breath when she steps back and you see the tears swimming in her eyes.

Not even an hour later, you’ve shouldered your pack and dressed in the only pants and shirt that you had which happened to be some old clothes of Red’s. As you walk out of the tavern, it’s impossible not to turn and give it a once over, committing every small crack, hole, and crevice to memory. Since you had started at Basgiath three years ago, you were unsure if you’d ever be in another place that hurt your heart so much to leave, but now here you are.

As you walk towards Drake, you can see the outline of his gryphon in the distance. The warmth and sadness that you felt leaving the tavern now turning into fear at the creature in front of you. 

Obviously sensing your trepidation, whether from your expression or the way your walk slowed, Drake holds out his hand as if in comfort. 

“I know this will be intimidating, but I promise he won’t hurt you.” Even though his words mean to placate your fear, you can’t help the raise of one of your brows in challenge.

“D-Does h-he know that I’m a dragon rider?” Your voice slides into a quiet whisper as you ask the last part of the question.

Drakes warm chuckle begins to ease the tension that has settled in your stomach. “Yes, just like your dragon, its impossible to get him out of my head.”

You look at Drake in fascination that he can seem to break the tension you’re feeling without doing more than say just the right thing.

“Are you always so comforting? Or do you have some sort of agenda here?” Your hand flies to your mouth in horror that you couldn’t stop your words. Worry is short-lived though when Drake lets out a warm booming laugh.

“I promise I have no ulterior motives.” A cocky smirk falling on his lips. “But I can’t help being born with such a charming nature.”

“And there it is.” You begin to tease as your tension continues to lighten. “I was wondering when your cocky side was going to come out.”

Without even realizing, his teasing had made you completely forget that you were headed directly for his gryphon. As you finally reach the animal, you can’t help but notice the amazing sheen to its feathers that still glints an impossible shade of gold in the moonlight. Everything about the creature seems softer than your dragon, although as you look at the talons below, you know that it can be just as vicious when it needs to be.  

Drake takes your hand and brings it to the gryphon’s face. You look at him uncertainly, your heartrate beginning to spike wondering if this is the part where you get fed to his talons and sharp beak. Although, your thoughts are cut short when the gryphon simply dips it and seems to sniff at your wrist.

“He isn’t going to bite. Gryphons just like to assess a person before they are allowed to ride. They, unlike most dragons, are willing to fly those in need of transportation, especially if their flier deems their purpose worthy.” Drake explains as he continues to hold your hand out. 

“Fascinating.” You say with no sarcasm in your tone. It’s not the first time since you left that you’ve wondered what exactly happened that caused dragons and gryphons to be so hostile to each other. However, you’re unsure if it’s the beings themselves or just the people that they bond with.

After a few minutes more, Drake drops your hand gently back to your side before taking your pack and securing it to his gryphon.

“if you don’t mind, I’d like you to sit in front of me.” Drake begins. “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, but the movement from gryphons compared to dragons is quite different and we don’t want you falling off.”

You shake your head and the next thing you know; he is hoisting you between the gryphon’s wings. 

“Now, you’ll need to scoot a little closer to his neck – yes – right there, perfect.” As he finishes, you are impressed with the ease in which he settles himself behind you. 

Without warning, they gryphon launches into the air, and you find yourself smacking directly into Drake’s chest. Your cheeks burning scarlet, you can do nothing but thank Zinhal it is already dark outside. 

“We’ll be flying at a lower altitude than you’re used to, so you should definitely be able to get some rest.” Drake explains, his mouth unnervingly close to your ear. 

You mentally slap yourself, but you can’t help the flush of your cheeks again. You close your eyes against the feeling, scolding yourself that it hasn’t been that long since a man has showed you attention.

You shake your head at his words and let your mind drift to the beats of the gryphon’s wings. Between the warmth of the lower altitude and the rhythmic flapping, you find yourself nodding off too quickly. 

Your consciousness slowly coming back, you snuggle into the warmth that has seemed to settle into your bones. It isn’t until you recognize the flapping of your wings that you are snapping to attention. Turning your head, you are met with Drake’s warm smile and a teasing glint in his eye.

“Have a nice sleep there?” He teases you. “I’m glad that I was a comfortable blanket.”

Your eyes widen in embarrassment as you quickly turn around back to the gryphon’s golden neck, the mortification burning in your cheeks.

Drake’s warm laugh breaks your embarrassment. “Don’t worry, it was pretty cute.”

Your head drops again in mortification, and you give a pout at his teasing, a frustrated huff leaving your lips. Though the feeling doesn’t stay around long when Drake begins to point in front of you.

Your eyes now widen, and jaw goes slack in absolute awe. Standing in stark relief to the blue of the coastline is a palace so intricate you have to pinch yourself to make sure you aren’t dreaming. As your eyes roam quickly, you can’t decide if you should focus on the intricate white walls of gleaming marble, or the pools that look as blue as the sky. Trying to count the seemingly endless number of terraces and small gardens that jut out in all directions, you have a hard time concentrating on any one piece. 

“You didn’t tell me to expect this.” Now looking down at the oversized clothes you are in, you can’t help but feel like a peasant waiting to be judged by royalty. You scoff in your mind because that is exactly what’s about to happen.

“Don’t let the palace and formality fool you. Besides, you won’t have to worry, you’re with me and I know Ceridwen gave you the necklace.” Drake’s tone is a cool calm and you try to infuse your feelings with the same. You are surprised to learn that Drake knew of the necklace but shrug your shoulders knowing that Red and Ceridwen trust him. At this point, you know there is no turning back, although there’s no certainty that you will like what will happen once you step foot in that palace.

Finally landing in a garden off to the side, you look around to see nothing but ornamental shrubs to your left and right. After years at Basgiath and life in Navarre, everything about this place seems overdone. 

Drake dismounts from the gryphon and immediately holds his hand out waiting to steady you as you dismount as well.

“Even though you aren’t a prisoner in any way. I need you to stick close.” Drake says with a serious tone. “You don’t need to fear for your life, but others may be inclined to harm you if they see you walking around by yourself in this clothing. Or at least make your life difficult.”

“What’s wrong with my clothing?” You ask indignantly.

“Nothing,” he says with slight exasperation. “You just have to understand that there won’t be anyone around the palace that doesn’t have a noble’s clothing on. Let’s just say my uncle is a fan of protocol.”

You shake your head understanding now what Drake is trying to convey. “I promise I’ll stick close by.”

Drake motions his hand for you to begin walking and he matches you stride for stride. The closer you get, the more in awe you find yourself. You come to an immediate stop as you look to your right and see nothing but a cloud of butterflies.

You hear a light snicker and turn to see Drake laughing gently at your obvious shock. “I know everything is a lot to take in on first glance, but I promise you can have the grand tour after we get you situated.”

Nodding, you continue walking into hallway upon hallway seeming to get more and more decorative as you descend into the heart of the palace. 

“Good morning, Sterling.” Drake says to a guard standing at two large wooden doors. “I assume my uncle and Syrena are behind there.”

“Yes, Captain. They are both anticipating your arrival.” As he finishes, Sterling looks back at you in judgment and you begin fiddling at his intense stare, but as a soldier he clearly knows better than have his feelings shown on his face.

Drake moves forward and opens the heavy wooden doors, moving them both to the side. You are met with an impressive study dripping with indulgences. There are crystal vases filled with exotic flowers, shelves with thousands of tomes, and fine carpets that have motifs you’ve never seen before.

The shocking details in the room cause you to completely miss the stares of the two other people. But as soon as you look back, you want to do nothing more than back away out of the room.

“Picking up strays now cousin?” The female in the room says. From Drake’s question to the guard, you realize this must be Syrena though you can’t help but bristle at her words.

“If by strays, you mean someone who has previously fought venin, then yes. If you’re just trying to be rude, then screw off.” Your eyebrows shoot up. Of all the things you expected, you never thought you’d hear someone who just met you defend your honor.

“Both of you are acting like children in front of our guest.” A clearly older voice rings out as you watch an older man step out from behind the large desk at the end of the room. 

“Uncle.” Drake says in a slow drawl. “I was in Pavis, and a friend made me aware of someone that was interested in fighting with us against the venin threat. She was there for about two months.”

“I see.” Tecarus says as he begins to walk around you as if inspecting a shiny new toy. “Does our guest possess any gifts or interesting talents?”

The drawl of his voice sounds a shiver down your spine before Drake speaks up again. “Besides combat experience, no she doesn’t possess any other talents.”

Drake looks at you as if wanting to confirm and you give him a small nod.  

“Drake says you’ve dealt with the venin before?” Tecarus asks as he continues to stalk closer to you.

“Yes.” The words leave your lips hesitantly. “I killed one in the combat that I have seen; however, I wouldn’t consider myself overly proficient.”

“Now, now dear. Don’t downplay your abilities. In fact, if the news Syrena has just brought to me is correct, you may have shown up at just the right time.” Drake comes to stand next to his uncle as he continues to make you uncomfortable with his piercing gaze. 

“What news Syrena?” Drake demands to the woman who has begun to step closer as well.

“The venin army is on the move and our intelligence tells us they may be making Zolya and the Academy their next target.” Syrena succinctly conveys the information, no emotion showing on her face.

All teasing in Drake’s face had long since disappeared. Everyone in the room tensed as Syrena continued to explain what the scouts had seen as the most recent movement. A shiver snaked around your body as the extent of the possible attack settled in your mind. 

“Are you planning on evacuating the cadets?” The question slipped from your lips before the thought even fully formed in your mind. 

The three people in the room turned to you seeming to finally remember your existence. You could see the hesitation in Syrena’s face to continue, but soon enough she was going over the evacuation plans for the Academy and the city overall. 

“I’m not a flier, but I would like to help in any way I can.” You hope that your voice is infused with the bravado that is flaring to life inside of you. 

After a few months of trying to bury your past, this seemed like the perfect way to carve out a new role for yourself. Try as you may, you hadn’t been able to get the phantom memories out of your mind. Phantom touches and small moments that had seemed so precious before only burned with dragon fire and stung as a scorpion’s tail. 

Shaking your head, you try to dispel the memories that had still been haunting your dreams. 

“If you’re willing to fight, I’m sure we can find a place for you.” Syrena confirms as Drake clasps a hand to your shoulder in acknowledgment. 

A little over a week later, you find yourself again seated in front of Drake flying towards Zolya. 

For the last week you had been working with Syrena and Drake on fighting, getting outfit in Poromish leathers, and learning as much as you could about the venin and their tactics in Poromiel thus far.

“Before we get to Zolya, we have a stop to make.” Drake says, though his tone belies there is more to this stop.

“Spit out exactly what you aren’t saying.” You spit tersely knowing there is something he isn’t saying.

“You’re going to want to stay with the gryphons and keep the hood of the cloak you have up.” He continues. 

“And you need to tell me exactly what the fuck is about to happen.” You toss back.

With an exaggerated sigh, he continues. “We’re going to pick up weapons from someone I don’t think you’re interested in seeing.”

There is no way that Drake can miss the way that your entire body stiffens like a wooden plank. Of all the things he could have told you, this was the last thing you could’ve possibly imagined. Your head whips around to look at Drake in the eyes.

“Are you telling me that you’re about to pick up weapons from Xaden Riorson.” Your voice comes out smaller than you want, but at this point you know that Drake knows exactly who you are. How would the Poromish not know when they have a bargaining chip?

Suddenly thoughts of betrayal flit across your mind, but before you can spiral too deeply, Drake breaks your thoughts. 

“I promise neither Syrena nor I will say anything about who you are. That is why I’m asking you to raise your hood, cover your face with your handkerchief in your pocket and stay with the gryphons.” You try to take a calming breath as you realize that they are both really trying to make sure that Xaden doesn’t know it’s you. 

Gods. Can you even shield anymore? You immediately begin to test your metal shields and try to reinforce them. The nostalgia that hits you at being back in your mind space is off-putting, the exercise being something you never thought you would do again. 

Sooner than you’d like, you feel the gryphons shift as they begin their descent. Without waiting, you take the handkerchief out of your pocket and tie it over your nose and mouth, after which you bring up the hood of your cloak as the gryphon hits the ground.

Drake easily dismounts and turns to assist you. “Remember, just stay here and keep your mouth closed and this will be over soon enough.” He gives your arm a small squeeze as he turns around and walks towards the small clearing. 

Your breathing begins to pick up as your eyes move to the distance in front of Drake and Syrena and see Sgaeyl and Chradh standing there, the imposing figures of the dragons causing your heart to flutter. All you can do is pray to Zinhal that neither dragon will be able to place your scent, be interested in looking too deeply into you, or tries to delve into your mind. Though no one can see you looking, you watch the entire scene take place. 

The breath catches in your throat as you lay eyes on the man that stole your heart in now what seems so long ago and in a completely different life. You keep your head angled down and let your eyes take in the sight of Garrick standing there next to him, studying them both for any injuries. You can’t say they would care if they knew you were here or not, but that doesn’t stop you from caring about their well-being.

Then the tone of Xaden’s voice brings you out of your reverie. “If you don’t stop with the attacks, we won’t have any choice but to stop the drops. Not only are the cadre already suspicious, but the higher rates in attack are making this harder to accomplish.”

“We are aware Riorson, but there is movement you are unaware of that we are currently on our way to try and contain. Actually, there’s plenty you don’t know, and frankly I’m unsure why the Assembly hasn’t been forth coming with what they know.” Syrena claps back, her tone just as menacing as Xaden’s. After spending time on the other side, you can understand the desperation the fliers are feeling.

“Look, we’ll do what we can.” Drake interrupts, breaking the tension between the two, trying to be the voice of reason. “Just know that the threat is getting increasingly worse. Besides, in two weeks’ time, we may not even be around to collect anything from you.”

“What do you mean?” Xaden asks forcing his tone to be a little calmer.

“I mean that we are trying to stave off an organized attack of a large city that will have more than devastating consequences. I’m sorry to be vague, but is your assembly’s job to inform you, not ours.” With that, Drake turns and continues back towards you.  

As if finally recognizing there is another flier in his midst, you watch with your hood covering your eyes as Xaden’s gaze flicks up to you. You don’t miss the uncertain expression on his face and the way he cocks his head slightly to the side as if trying to place you. If you didn’t know him so well, you would’ve missed the small twitch of his hand indicating he was utilizing his shadows. 

At that same moment, you blink down and see the shifting of shadows around your feet. Using every ounce of restraint, you make yourself stand completely still, letting the shadows coil around your feet in curiosity. Forcing breaths in and out, you solidify the shields you hope still work in your mental fortress as tightly as you can. 

The moment that Drake steps up next to his gryphon, you bring your head up fully and lock eyes with Xaden for one second before you turn and allow Drake to help you up. You keep your head firmly down as Drake mounts and just seconds later you are airborne.

As you drift from the meeting spot, Drake’s chuckle breaks your tumultuous thoughts. 

“Syrena is going to have her hands full the next time Riorson does a drop.” He gets out between fits of laughter. Looking over your shoulder, you give him a quizzical look.

“Oh, so you didn’t see then.” Drake explains wryly. “If I can read people as well as I think I can, Riorson either thinks he just saw a ghost or realized who you were and was so shocked he didn’t know what to do.”

Scrunching your nose at Drake’s comment you turn back to the front and let out a long-suffering sigh.

“I’m assuming that since you said Syrena, you don’t normally have any interaction with Xaden.” You ask, now wondering exactly how this whole operation works.

“No. I don’t usually have time for such things.” Drake huffs an almost indignant sound coming from him, it causes your eyebrow to quirk, but you know better than to pry too deeply.

Falling into comfortable silence, you scan your surroundings noticing the changes in topography as you glide closer to Zolya. If there is one thing you can say for flying on a gryphon is that the lower altitude gives much more visibility to the lands around you. 

As you continue to observe the landscape, the familiar sound of rushing water fills your ears between the beats of gryphon wings. Looking down, the Stonewater River flowing below you can’t be mistaken. As dawn begins to break, you take the opportunity to soak in the colors and sounds of the river below you before the chaos that you are sure will ensue. 

Before you have enough time to absorb the beauty of the nature around you, the feeling of descent makes your stomach begin to rise to your throat. As you bring your eyes to the horizon in front of you, you see the fortress of Cliffsbane Academy rising from the ground. 

The foreboding stone is reminiscent of all the times you flew into Basgiath, but for some reason the fear that used to immediately settle in your bones at Basgiath doesn’t come. Unsure if it is just you moving past the fight of living or just accepting today may be your last, you don’t know. 

As the gryphon touches down in the flight field of the Academy, you can’t help the way your head swings as if on a swivel trying to map out your surroundings. A sarcastic huff leaves your mouth as you realize you are a dragon rider now standing in the beating heart of enemy territory. You wrestle with yourself trying to figure out if this is the best idea you’ve ever had or complete madness. 

Drake immediately dismounts and pulls you down soon after. Not letting any hesitation settle into your bones, you take a deep breath and stand tall, following close behind Drake as he confidently moves towards the entry doors.

“I’ll remind you to stay close by while we’re getting directives and moving everyone into their places.” Drake warns as you both continue to stride down the halls.

“Don’t worry. I have no interest in becoming fodder for the students here who may prefer to see me dead.” You challenge back, although there is no malice there.

Before long, Drake stops in front of two large doors and looks back at you giving you a tight nod. As he opens them, your eyes widen as you take in your surroundings. The rotunda that you have entered is just as big as the one at Basgiath, but instead of dragon pillars, majestic gryphons in different states of flight line the interior. Golds, browns and whites highlight each other in alternating hues from floor to ceiling, where the colors fade into the painting of a beautiful blue sky. 

You aren’t awed for long when you hear a familiar sounding voice call out from the other side.

“Since when is picking up strays a new past time for you cousin?” A female voice purrs with a malignant sneer.

“Catriona, I’m only going to say this once.” Drake begins as he gives the similar looking female a stern look. “Play. Nice. This isn’t about you or some petty score over a man. She is here to help us, so you will treat her with respect.”

Catriona looks at you, eyes narrowed, while Drake continues. “That is an order, not a request.”

“Oh, I can play nice.” Catriona retorts though the mischief in her eyes shows you probably won’t like what follows. “Besides, what could be more of a punishment than being forgotten about not only by a man you thought loved you, but also your own dragon. You must really feel sorry for yourself to end up in flier leathers.”

You can’t help the slight flinch when she finishes her statement, though you can’t understand how she would even know what you looked like. And with that your entire being begins to feel the helplessness and utter betrayal of being left. A grief so sharp, it feels as if your heart may stop, hits you straight between the ribs causing your breath to hitch.

Drake must realize something because soon enough you watch as he grabs Catriona by the arm and gets into her face. “I said play nice. Quit it now.”

Catriona gives you one last glare before turning and walking away. You’re unsure what just happened, but the sting of her words slowly seems to lessen the further and further she gets away.

A clash of steel breaks you from your emotions at you and Drake both turn and stare at the doors you just entered through. A second later, a warning bell whistles out harshly and all hell breaks loose. You watch as flier cadets seem to come racing from all areas of the building.

“Come on, it seems we were a little later in the timing than we should’ve been.” Drake says ushering you towards the heart of the Academy. 

“It’ll be better if we separate. Where can I help in evacuating?” You say while running to keep up with Drake. 

“Follow this corridor and get out everyone that you can. Remember to use the two blades that I gave you if you come across a venin.” You nod your head sharply at the orders and immediately begin running toward the corridor assigned. 

As you go, you knock heavily on the doors before directing anyone coming out to head to the rotunda and towards their gryphons. You try to keep a tally in your head, but as you reach about twenty, your mind starts to spin. 

A dark cloud seems to enter your mind and no amount of shaking your head clears it. Continuing down the hall and constantly trying to clear your mind, you don’t notice the set of billowing robes that is at the end staring straight at you.

“Well, well. I didn’t expect to see you here.” A high-pitched shriek of a voice calls out as you open the door of the last room.

After ushering the last two cadets out, you finally look up and come face to face with the last creature you were hoping to see today.

Venin.

“See me here?” You taunt back in confusion. “You act as if you know me.”

“Oh, we always know a tortured soul when we see one. Especially one so exquisitely bleak as you.” The voice of the female venin shrieks. Your heart begins to race as you try to figure out your best way out of the situation, though things look disheartening when you realize you are at the dead end of a corridor.

“My Sage told me about the girl who was forgotten at the last battle he attended. He could feel the pain radiating off you in waves. He was very disappointed to have to leave you behind.” Everything the female is saying makes your head spin.

Suddenly awareness comes back to you, and you jerk in response to the now close proximity of the female. As you begin circling one another, the thoughts of the possible finalities of this predicament hit you. You don’t have time to dwell though as the female unsheathes a blade and goes to make the first strike.

Immediately parrying, you find yourself completely disadvantaged at the speed the female possesses. You utilize all the training you had done with Xaden and Garrick, but nothing seems to be enough to completely evade her blows. As you aim your own alloyed blade down to strike, you hiss as you feel a blade tear down your left arm. 

A fiery sting erupts from the wound as if hundreds of dragons are firing up and down your arm, but you don’t stop, you can’t. The female steps back slightly admiring her handywork which causes her downfall. You take the move for your advantage and charge directly at her. 

Even though she stepped back, your height made it easy to hit her right between the ribs. A shriek of a scream rends the air as she grabs at the alloyed dagger now protruding from her body. 

Watching as she falls to her knees, you find yourself backing against a wall, the sharp sting of scorpions radiating from your arm. Once the venin falls completely to the ground, you turn and look down. It is then you see the black that has begun to spider down your arm.

You begin to stumble back down the corridor towards the rotunda, hoping that you can drag yourself there. Movement begins to become sluggish as you get closer, hearing the battle still raging around you. Finally reaching the door, you look up and see people being directed out to the adjacent courtyard. Limping forward, you search for the familiar face of Drake.

As luck would have it, on the third pass of the hall, you finally spot him on the far corner. As if acutely aware of your stare, his head jerks up and his eyes land on you. Relief floods his face before it seems to turn to concern as you find yourself slowly sinking to the ground.

“Y/N!” You can hear Drake shout, although everything is beginning to sound far away. The harsh sounds of orders and footsteps seem to make up the background noise in your head, but nothing is clear anymore. Finally hitting the floor, you hiss out a pained breath as it begins to feel as if a thousand needles are running through your veins. 

“Y/N!” Drake shouts again and you see him materialize in front of your face. His voice is both a command and plea at the same time, though you’re unsure why.

As your vision begins to swim black, you think you hear him again. “You’ll be alright. We’re going to counteract the poison; you just need to hold on.”

The burning continues, your body convulsing with the heat of the venom in your blood. You can feel your whole-body tense as waves of fire rolls through. Darkness taking over your vision and your body beginning to slacken as the poison infiltrates your blood stream.

Each fiber of your body feels overloaded with fiery toxin and the loss of adrenaline. You try to open your eyes one last time, but your eyelids won’t obey your command, instead you find yourself slipping into oblivion.

----------

The first thing you notice is the quiet. Without opening your eyes, you listen but are only met with deafening silence. Continuing to lie unmoving, you take a deep breath before trying to open your eyes. Managing to finally get them open, though the effort seems unbearable, you are met with confusion as your eyes stare up at a beautifully decorative ceiling. 

Confusion tugs at your brain as you try to place this room that seems familiar, yet not. The decadence of the bedroom, even only by the ceiling you can see and the feel of the sheets on your bare skin, is something that seems familiar but not at the same time. Slowly, you let yourself move each one of your limbs, from your toes to your fingertips. 

You begin to move your arm and feel a lingering ache on your left. Bringing it up and over the covers your breath catches in your throat and your eyes widen at the sight. All along your arm are spidering black veins that seem to penetrate your skin.

“Don’t worry, eventually it will recede.” Immediately your head whips to your right towards the male voice. “It will take some time since we don’t have a mender and only healers, but it shouldn’t cause you any issues.” 

Your eyes encounter the warm gaze of Drake. Never before would you have thought the view of a flier would be a welcome sight, but your life hadn’t seemed to work out the way you’d thought anyway.

“H – How lo-long have I been out?” You rasp your voice scratchy with disuse and in desperate need of water.

While you finish your statement, Drake moves to the table next to the bed and brings you a fresh glass of water. You take the cup and drink greedily, the cool liquid calming the dryness.

“It’s been a week since the venin took Zolya.” Head jerking back towards Drake, your eyes widen at the revelation.

“Wh-what happened to all of those cadets?” Your heart begins to race as you panic over your life being saved over those fliers who were trying to learn and fight for their people. 

Drake gives you a knowing smile. “Don’t worry, we were able to evacuate Cliffsbane for the most part. Unfortunately, as with every battle with the venin, we weren’t able to save everyone.”

Your eyes immediately turn down at the news of the cadets that didn’t make it through the battle. This wasn’t the first time that you felt there was an unnecessary loss of life, and although you tried to make a difference, you always felt lacking.

A warm hand covers your forearm and gives a tight squeeze as you look up into Drake’s knowing eyes.

Days later, you’re finally feeling normal enough to get dressed and move about. Staring in the mirror after a shower, you begin to trace the lines of a particularly dark vein that moves across your chest to your left arm. Although you don’t feel the fiery pain that the poison elicited immediately, the phantom fire still seems to course through your veins as you trace the line. 

“It will fade soon enough.” A sharp feminine voice rasps causing you to whip your head to the right. Fighting the surprise that wants to plaster on your face, you turn to face the two women who are entering into the room you’re staying in. 

Turning around, you watch warily as Syrena and Catriona walk towards you. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company.” The saccharine dripping from your lips a stark contrast to your thoughts of the two women.

“Our Uncle seems to think we will be having Tyrrish company soon and for some reason he wants to dress you for the part of emissary.” The venomous tone Catriona adopts when telling you this information betrays her polite words.

“Dress me?” Your brows furrow at the thought. Hearing of such things happening was no surprise, however, not being part of a political family or born to royalty it was an action foreign to you. 

Syrena steps forward handing you the tunic you were about to put on. “Yes, even though he has more than enough gowns to alter in his repertoire, he wants to put you in something new.”

“Why though? What is he expecting from me?” You look back at Syrena hoping for some semblance of answers, though you’re unsure if she will provide any.

“Unfortunately, he hasn’t revealed what his plan is or what he seems to be expecting.” Syrena confirms. “Though if the consistent nagging I’ve been forced to partake in the last few weapons drops is any indication, I’m sure he’s trying to exploit Riorson’s weakness for you.”

You immediately scoff and roll your eyes at the comment. “Why would he be pestering you? He doesn’t even know I’m still alive, yet alone here of all places.”

“It seems the one look he caught at your eyes has reinforced his belief that you are indeed alive. And that I am more than aware of your whereabouts, which obviously is all correct.” Syrena gives you a deadpan look.

“But who knows why it would matter. He obviously couldn’t care less if he didn’t even notice your absence.” Catriona comments and you loathe to admit to yourself that she’s right. 

Your head begins to hang as the bitterness hardens in your heart at the thought of Xaden leaving you behind without even noticing. But wasn’t that the reason you ran? Didn’t you want him to forget? Didn’t you want to forget him? Unsure where these intense feelings of insignificance and uselessness have come from, your hand grabs at your chest as the ache intensifies feeling as if the organ may leap out of your chest. You try to calm yourself, but you can feel your breaths becoming shallow pants and the control it takes to hold in your sobs is immense.

“Cat!” You hear Syrena’s sharp tone in the background, though it seems like its underwater. “Leave her alone. She doesn’t even have her powers to shut you out.”

Words registering, you try to slam your shields up, but you can’t get past the ache and intense feelings of inconsequence.

“If she wants to be with Riorson, she’s going to have to be stronger than that.” Catriona spits back at Syrena. You try to drown the ache, but it isn’t until you hear the door slam that there seems to be a break in the intensity of the feelings.

Finally, you hear a set of footsteps approaching and look to the side to see Syrena looking at you with concern. 

“I’m sorry. I know Cat can be a piece of work sometimes, but I thought she could be more civil than that considering you saved her life at Cliffsbane.” As your breath finally begins to even out, you look to the side and chance a brow at Syrena’s words. 

“She was the last cadet you pulled out of the corridor you were in and watched you take on the venin. I thought between that and Riorson’s recent actions, she could have some compassion or at least understanding; but I see my darling sisterstill has some things to work on.” Syrena finishes as you finally have your breathing back under control.

“It’s not your fault.” You say as your breath catches again in your throat. “I know from experience how hard it can be to let somethings go.”

Syrena scoffs. “Empathy is not a quality my sister excels at, but it seems you have more than enough for the both of you. I can see why Riorson has lost any semblance of niceties now that you aren’t around.”

“I’m not sure that Xaden has a single nice bone in his body, that’s not exactly his strong suit.” You retort letting the sarcasm lace every word.

“Either way, how about you follow me, and we get you fitted for this monstrosity that I know my uncle is going to make you wear.” Syrena says while motioning you to follow her.

You try to keep your facial expressions neutral as the seamstresses begin their work, but it’s impossible. Every single emotion known to man must pass across your face because you watch as Syrena must hide her sniggers behind her hands at your antics.

“Clearly this isn’t something you’re used to.” Syrena muses as you stare down at the seamstress that is measuring from your waist to the floor.

“I would think that is obvious.” You retort as you move your arms as to not knock into one of the seamstresses scurrying around you.

“Well, you’ll get used to it.” That comment causes you to snap your gaze to the secondary heir to the Poromish throne. 

“I beg to differ. Besides, I don’t see why someone that’s fighting in a war will need a fancy gown again.” As the seamstresses finally step away from you, a deep calming breath and drop your arms as you’ve been wanting to do for the last half hour.

“You do know that Riorson is the rightful Duke of Aretia, correct?” Syrena continues as if you haven’t spoken. “When all is said and done, I’m sure he’ll regain the title, if not more. You’ll most likely be expected to dress the part next to him.”

Tripping over your feet, you barely catch yourself before you hit the ground. “What the fuck are you talking about Syrena?” You demand as your emotions begin to rise, clogging your throat with both fear and hope.

“I’m sure you’ll see.” Her cryptic response does nothing to quell the nauseous feeling that has now settled in your stomach. 

About a week later, you find yourself walking back to your room in the palace at Cordyn after your training session for the day. As you shuffle in, the armoire that houses your clothes that must be worn to formal events sits open. Walking towards the door, your eyes immediately fly wide.

Hanging in the open door is an emerald dress that is something you thought you’d only see in your dreams. The gown is made of layers of gauzy fabric with jewels encrusted over the entire bodice with twirling vines of ivy. You stare at the skirt, and you can’t help but wonder if the sheer layers will cover any part of your body. Vines run up and down the bodice with a few hanging into the layers of the skirt and fabric drapes from the bodice into a full skirt. As your eyes continue to trace the dress, you notice the sleeves that will hang off your shoulders and will at least cover some of the black veins that still spider on your arm.

Every ounce of the dress looks as if it is fit for a queen, not a mere soldier barely scrimping by. 

“I believe you’ll look absolutely stunning in that my dear.” The oily rasp of the voice behind you causes you to step back. You turn and stare back into the eyes of Viscount Tecarus.

“If my intel is correct, I believe we will be having a few guests join us this evening.” Tecarus continues coming to step in front of you. “And I’ve come here to tell you what you’re going to do.”

“I see.” You say but your trepidation is clear, even to your own ears. “And what exactly is that?”

“You will be escorted to dinner with Drake; however, you will not make your appearance known until after everyone has joined. There will be a guard to inform Drake of when to enter. You will keep to your chamber between now and then.” There is no denying the calculation that the Viscount has done.

“Once there, you will get the rest of your instructions. I’m unsure of how much Riorson knows about your whereabouts exactly, but from what we’ve pieced together he knows you’re in Poromiel. However, he has made no indication that he knows you’re here.”

“I’m not sure what exactly you think I can do for you with him. As you remember, I was left behind in Resson and from what I can tell, that was that. No one has tried to find me.” You try to explain and keep your voice level. 

As the conversation continues, it takes everything for you not to bolt from the fortress and not look back. Coming face to face with Xaden again is the last thing you want to do. 

“Yes, that may be what you think, but my dear, there are many things you don’t know.” With that, the Viscount walks out of your room but not before giving you a smile that tells you this evening isn’t going to be any fun. 

A few hours later, two ladies’ maids have come to take care of your hair, makeup, and dress you for the evening. Standing fully dressed and looking in the mirror, you are shocked at the reflection that stares back at you. 

The maids have curled your hair and left it half up and down, braids are intricately woven in and out at the top with golden chains woven throughout. Your eyes pop after having been lined with charcoal and the suppleness of your lips are highlighted the dark red of a ripe raspberry. Though the one thing that you can’t stop staring at is the dress that you now don. The emerald color complements your skin immaculately and falls to accentuate every curve of your body.  You’ve never seen yourself look so beautiful, regal even. 

“What my uncle lacks in battle strategy, he certainly makes up for in style.” Drake’s voice drips like honey behind you and you turn quirking your eyebrow. “You look absolutely beautiful, ever the regal queen.”

Even with the compliment, you give him a deadpanned look. “I’m not exactly sure how I’m going to survive this night alive.” He quips, chuckling slightly.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Your irritation barely contained.

“Riorson might just have my head for escorting you.” Drake continues with his jibes. “Especially when everyone’s eyes will be on you.”

“Ha. Ha.” You let the sarcasm drip from your lips like molasses. 

“Seriously though, I’ve already seen the riders that are joining us, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so tightly wound.”

“Him who?” The look Drake gives you makes it obvious that he knows you’re being ridiculous. Letting out a long-suffering sigh, you let yourself slouch feeling defeated even though your night hasn’t even begun.

Looking you over, Drake goes to the dressing table in your room and picks up the necklace that Ceridwen had gifted you. “I need you to remember to wear this whenever you’re around Catriona from now on, do you understand?” The serious look in his eyes causes you not to question his decree and just nod your head in confirmation.

A knock on your door breaks the silence and your heart begins to speed. Breathing has turned into a chore, and you’ve begun pacing back and forth, eyes trained down at the floor and shaking your hands as if trying to dispel the feelings you’re feeling. 

“Hey.” The sternness of the voice the only thing breaking through your reeling thoughts. 

“I know this is going to be a long evening, but I need you to breathe.” Drake soothes taking your hand in his and guiding you to slow your breathing. “Never forget that you don’t have to leave, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. If anything, you should go down there with your head held high and show Riorson the strong and beautiful woman he let disappear.”

It’s all you can do to focus on your breathing and shake your head. Drake begins to walk towards the door and holds out his arm for you to take. Letting yourself move forward slowly and continuing to take deep breaths, you try to remind yourself that whatever happens this evening doesn’t matter. Soon enough Xaden will be on his way home and you’ll be free to throw yourself into the war like you’ve been wanting to, preferably as far away from him as possible. 

Letting your mind wander, you take in the scenery of the palace as you walk. Looking to your left, you watch the shimmering coastline that seems to sparkle with the night sky, though you can feel the heaviness that is settling in the air around you forecasting the coming rain. Watching the waves crash calms your racing thoughts as you continue to walk forward on Drake’s arm.

Far too soon, you stare at a familiar set of doors and your heart has now leapt into your throat. Before the guards open the doors, Drake turns to look at you, his expression serious.

“Before we go in there, I just want to say I’m sorry for whatever happens tonight. It’s important to me that you know I had no part in whatever plan my uncle intends to carry out tonight and I tried my damnedest to keep you as far away from this as possible.” The concern in his eyes shines as he finishes talking. You have no idea what to reply, so you just give his arm a squeeze back in acknowledgement before the doors are opening. 

Turning to face forward, you take a deep, shaking breath as Drake continues to guide you forward and down the stairs. Your free hand is now balled into a fist so tight, you’re unsure if you are drawing blood or not. Descending, you can’t help but feel the weight of the stares of all the people gathered at the palace. Searching left and right, you try your hardest not to encounter the onyx eyes that you haven’t seen in months, the anxiety eating at your very being. 

Drake’s warm hand falls over yours and squeezes bringing your gaze back to his, the gesture grounds you as you continue to walk forward. The small comforting smile that he offers you helping to bring your breathing back under control and alleviate a tinge of the anxiety.

A voice breaks your gaze from Drake’s as you hear the words uttered from further in front of you. “Ah, here’s the other guest that we’ve been waiting on.”

Whirling your head towards the sound of Tecarus’ voice, the breath completely leaves your lungs. In front of you is the last person you ever wanted to see again, but you can’t tear your eyes away. 

Standing before you in a tunic tailored to every line of his body is Xaden Riorson. His hair perfectly windswept and strong features on display for all to see. Though the thing you notice most is the taught lines of his body and the way his eyes look sunken and more tired than you’ve ever seen them as he stands in front of you. The rest of the room seems to fall away as you stare back at each other, him in disbelief and you in resignation.

A fire begins burning in your chest, one you didn’t expect. Anger that you hadn’t realized you were holding onto starts to blaze as you watch Xaden. Your nostrils flare in irritation as your eyes finally move to the woman standing next to him. 

Sorrengail. 

The sneer on your lips comes unbidden, though you don’t let your eyes linger on her before looking to the two others standing next to her. Gaze going between the three, the realization hits you as you notice the similarities in their features, her siblings.

Closing your eyes and taking a calming breath, you open your eyes and bring them to Tecarus, ignoring the way Xaden fidgets as if he is barely keeping himself in place. 

“I believe now is the time to discuss the business we have here.” The male Sorrengail sibling says, obviously trying to break the tension.

You keep your eyes trained on Tecarus, but it’s impossible not to notice the way that Violet tries to get Xaden to step back, as you notice he can’t stop himself from taking steps forward. You roll your eyes at the gesture, of course she would be the one to control him.

A chill crawling up your leg causes you to shiver and look down. Unsurprisingly, shadows swirl at your feet, and you know if you parted your skirt, you would find them shifting around your legs. 

Getting pulled back slightly causes you to look down and realize the tight grip that you had on Drake’s arm as he still held your arm in his. You give him an apologetic look, but it doesn’t last when a black tendril of shadow tugs at your arm as if to pull it from Drake’s grip. 

Pivoting, you send a sharp look to Xaden, a silent command to drop his shadows. However, he doesn’t see it as he is only glaring at your hand that is still holding Drake’s arm and then back at the man himself.

“Now that all our guests have arrived, Riorson, we can continue our discussions for the luminary.” Tecarus says as if he is doing something magnanimous, causing your eyes to roll. 

Violet goes to step up and begins to raise her hands to wield, but she is quickly cut off. “No, no, my dear. I want you to wield from the beautiful arena below. In fact, I have a few things to go through before we start.”

“You,” Tecarus says while pointing to Violet. “Will head down to the arena floor and I have a target I want you to hit with your lightning. If you’re interested in bringing anyone with you, you may - except him.”

Xaden goes to step forward, but for some reason you don’t understand, he seems torn. “Don’t worry Riorson, you won’t need to move from where you are. In fact, things will deteriorate if you do.”

Your brows furrow, but soon enough you have stopped paying attention when you’re grabbed by two guards. As your head swivels left and right trying to understand, you see the murderous look that is plastered on Xaden’s face and the undeniable anger on Drake’s.

“Tsk. Tsk. Don’t move any further if you want that luminary Riorson.” Xaden’s footsteps immediately falter, but his eyes turn to anguish. 

“Fuck the luminary.” Xaden growls as he goes to take another step towards you, but he stops in his tracks when you give him a look telling him ‘No’.

“You, dear Xaden, have one task.” Tecarus looks to you, a disturbing gleam in his eye. “You cannot move from this balcony. If you dare take one step towards the arena, our dearest Y/N will fall to the arena floor.”

As Tecarus finishes, the guards, that grabbed you, push you into a golden cage. You rattle the door you were thrown in, even though you saw it locked behind you. You can’t hide the betrayal on your face and at this point you’re unsure if there is anyone you can trust. 

“That’s what you wanted. To dress me up like a beautiful bird that lives her life in a gilded cage. To dangle me for what? To prove that I don’t matter to any of them? That I don’t matter to him?” The rage building in your heart at the betrayal you’re feeling, an overwhelming monster threatening to tear the entire palace down. 

“And what can I assume you will do if I don’t follow your instructions?” Xaden growls out, the blazing hot fury causing his voice to drop low. 

“You see that’s where the fun begins.” The giddy elation in Tecarus’s voice causes your glare at the disgusting man to intensify. “We get to see who is really more important to you and you get to see what happens when you don’t follow my commands.”

You look down at the arena floor where Violet now stands with her siblings. “Now remember, the minute you make a move towards the arena, the cage opens, and you are responsible for any consequences.” The danger dripping from Tecarus lets you know that he has no intention of letting Xaden get through this unscathed and is taking immense amounts of pleasure from his plan.

Taking time to look at the cage you find yourself in, you notice the latch that you are sitting on and trace the chain that falls from the bottom to a guard standing close to you. A jerk of the cage has you jostling from side to side as the cage begins to move. 

“This is ridiculous uncle. Bring her down right now.” Drake’s voice breaks from the din of whispers that have only gotten louder since your placement in the gilded cage. 

Eyes darting from side to side, you realize that you are now not only caged, but dangling above an arena that is soon going to be covered in lightning. 

“Oh Amari.” The words woosh from your lungs as the certainty of your imminent demise begins to settle in your bones.  

The certainty solidifies as you watch guards bring a chest into the middle of the arena. Watching wearily, your eyes bulge when you watch a venin tumble from the chest. Your gaze swings back to the balcony and watch a satisfied smirk plaster on Tecarus’s face. A movement to the left has you meeting Drake’s gaze, he makes a motion towards the bodice of your dress, and you look down. Unsure exactly how or when, you find yourself in possession of one of the alloyed daggers that you’ve killed the previous venin with. It’s then you know what you must do.

In lieu of Xaden losing his life because of Violet’s death, you make the decision that you’ve been dreading. Standing in the cage and picking up your foot, you drive it down as hard as possible, the heel cracking through the latch on the bottom. 

“Y/N!” A male voice roars your name, but you don’t look to see who it is.

The sensation of falling hits you immediately, but using everything you’d learned at Basgiath, you soften your blow to the ground just the tiniest bit in order to keep from breaking anything. You roll to your feet, and curse the ridiculous dress that you find yourself tangled in. 

Although you know your exit and landing wasn’t that quiet, the venin hasn’t seemed to notice your presence. Your eyes catch Violet’s as you begin to move forward, silently conveying your command for her to keep him talking. Unsheathing the dagger that was held at your ribs, you slowly make your way towards the creature trying to keep your steps measured and slow.

The venin begins to crouch to the ground, and you know you don’t have much time.

“Y/N! NO!” The same male voice repeats, though now there is a hint of absolute desperation and panic.

Running as swiftly as you can in the outrageous skirt of the dress, you bring the dagger up in preparation to strike. Right before you make your move, the venin turns his hand jutting out and grabbing you by the neck his read eyes bulging. 

“Quite the prizes I’ve been led to. The sage will reward me handsomely for bringing both the lightning wielder and the pained one.” He hisses, spittle hitting your face. For a monstrous creature that has been denied the ability to channel for so long, it strikes you how powerful he is still, even in a weakened state. 

“I may be full of pain, but I’ll never meet your master.” You hiss breathlessly as you bring the dagger to slash the venin’s arm. Hissing in pain, the venin drops you to the ground and you cough trying to get breath back into your body.

Taking one deep drag of air, you jolt up and slam the blade of the alloyed dagger into the venin’s chest. A triumphant smile crosses your mouth, but it is short lived when you see the venin raise a dagger that you were unaware he possessed. You take two steps back before the venin slashes the blade across your chest.

“Y/N!” Violet screams, as the awaiting storm finally breaks and soaks everything. As you both drop to the ground, the bright red of the venin’s eyes turns to a dull ruby and his skin begins to grey. Landing fully on the ground, the breath is zipped from your lungs and your hand instinctively goes up to cover the slash across your chest. 

The warm and viscous blood flowing from the wound coats all your fingers as you bring them up to your face to see, the metallic smell wafting to you through the raindrops. 

“Brennan, mend her!” Violet’s voice seems further away than it was before. 

Closing your eyes, you let yourself focus on the feeling of the rain falling down your face instead of focusing on the pain of your injury. Soon enough you drift off, a sense of contentment washing over you. You may not have saved yourself, but you saved those who can better save the continent.

“Y/N, please open your eyes. Please.” A familiar male voice says in a desperate, coaxing tone, though you can’t bring yourself to obey the command. You feel a large, calloused hand stroke your cheek and then card through your hair, finally coming down to lace with your fingers.

“She’ll be fine Xaden. Brennan mended her. You couldn’t ask for her to have been seen to sooner than that.” A female voice tries to coax who you’ve realized is now Xaden.

“You don’t know that.” You can hear the frustration in his tone back at the female. “She almost killed herself trying to save you.”

Reality slams back and you now know that you won’t be opening your eyes for the two people who have haunted you for months. The last thing you need to see is the man you love with the woman that caused you to be forgotten. 

“We need to go anyway. Tecarus is expecting all of us for negotiations.” Violet tries to reason with him.

“I don’t give a fuck.” Each word drips out of his mouth with vicious certainty. A knock on a door seems to halt their conversation.

“Your presence is required for our negotiations I’m afraid.” Your emotions settle as you take note of Drake’s voice breaking the conversation.

“You can tell your fucking uncle he should be glad I didn’t send him to meet Malek today for the stunts he pulled, and I’ll come when Y/N is awake.” Xaden replies in a menacing growl, his fingers tightening on yours as if afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

“Look Riorson, you may not believe me, but I agree with you. Everything that happened tonight is despicable.” Drake begins catching you off guard. “But you shouldn’t spit in the direction of Y/N’s sacrifice that she made tonight by not participating in negotiations.”

“If it would be any consolation, I can stay with her until negotiations are done. If for some reason she wakes between now and then, I’ll have someone fetch you immediately. However, in hopes to move things along, we all need this discussion about the luminary to be decided upon.” Drake explains with as much diplomacy as possible.

Silence greets your ears for a few minutes before anyone speaks. 

Drake must’ve given Xaden the confirmation he wanted as a minute later you feel the hand wrapped around yours squeeze tightly and a cool feeling whisps around your wrist, wrapping in tightly.

“Fine. But I’m not leaving her completely. You’ll have to deal with a few shadows if you want me to participate in this bullshit.” Xaden says plainly, though his tone begins to darken at the end. “And you better keep your damn hands to your fucking self Cordella.”

You expect to hear the sound of retreating footsteps, but instead the bed dips and you feel warm breath ghost across your face.

“Y/N, Love, I need you to wake up for me. I promise you I’m not leaving this damned place without you awake and Malek will take me before I fly out of Cordyn without you. Please, my Blaze. Please wake up.” Xaden whispers in your ear before you feel him leave a lingering kiss on your temple. 

The bed shifts again and you hold your breath until you hear the door click shut.

“You aren’t very subtle you know. I can tell you’re awake.” The humor in Drake’s voice is dry. 

Your eyes flutter open and look directly at him. The eye roll and slight shake of your head doesn’t stop the way your mouth ticks up at the corner. 

“What can I say? I was just waiting to have you all to myself.” You tease but the smile doesn’t last as you wince in pain trying to sit yourself up. 

Looking down to the shadow at your wrist, you lift it up with a pointed look. “Did you really need to allow this?”

Drake’s laugh is cynical. “Allow? You may have heard the words Riorson just said but you haven’t been awake for the last 3 hours. If you’d seen what I have, you wouldn’t be pushing too many of his buttons.”

“I highly doubt he enjoyed watching his dear Violet’s life endangered, but I took care of it.” The flat tone of your voice giving away the hurt. 

Swinging your feet to the edge of the bed, you look down to see someone has changed you into a silk sleeping gown. Your hand then goes up as your eyes catch on the new raw scar that slashes across the left side of your chest. Trying to comprehend, you just can’t understand how you’ve evaded Malek’s grip once again. 

“Violet?” Drake chimes in as he walks closer to your side. “Is your whole existence now dependent on avoiding the fact that the man that just left this room is irrevocably in love with you?”

“Don’t.” Your voice drops to a deadly whisper. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to judge what I think. You haven’t been around for the last year and a half, or do you not remember that I fucking ran away from that man and my dragon.”

Your voice is gaining in its fire, and you can feel your body begin heating with the anger coursing through every nerve. 

“I-I’m sorry.” Drake hesitantly begins sounding suitably chastised. “I understand that with whatever happened between the two of you, he has a lot to explain and atone for, but did you not see how sunken in his eyes are?”

You drop your head down and let your anger fester. There is no way you’re going to let anyone make you feel bad for leaving, even though there was no mistaking the sallow color to Xaden’s eyes and deep purple smudges below them. 

“Will you at least let me tell you what happened on the balcony? At least let me give you some information before he inevitably comes back.” You give a curt nod, but only because you know that there isn’t any way you can completely evade Xaden, not now. 

“Besides, someone needs to chide you for being as reckless as you were.” Your head jerks up and the look Drake gives you shows he was vastly unimpressed with your performance. “Did you really need to try and kill both me and your shadow wielding, hot head by dropping yourself from that cage?”

You give him a dead-panned look. “What’s the difference? Your uncle dearest wanted to play games, so I bent the rules.”

With a roll of his eyes, Drake goes on to relay the chaos that you were completely unaware of, obviously too engrossed in dispatching a venin and then almost meeting Malek for the second time in just a few weeks.

 The male voice you heard shouting your name was apparently Xaden, both he and Drake, flew to the arenas edge once you started falling. Though Xaden’s focus didn’t stay long on the battle once you killed the venin and were mended, apparently turning to let his wrath at the situation out on the Viscount.

Drake imparts the threats Xaden carried out, wrapping his shadows around Tecarus’s neck and slowly constricting, and the bedlam that followed. He confirms you were mended by Brennan, as Violet had already stated, and then Brennan had carried you up the steps of the arena. 

Somehow Violet had broken through the spell of anger that Xaden was in, and he had immediately turned towards the Sorrengails. Seeing your limp form in Brennan’s arms, Drake confirmed he had taken you from him and stalked off not bothering to say anything to anyone.

“I’m unsure if I’ve ever seen the burning hatred in someone’s eyes shine as brightly as Riorson’s did tonight. I’m unsure of exactly what control he used, but if he had any less, he may have taken out the entirety of the line of succession of Poromiel.” Your head turns cocking an eyebrow at Drake’s words. 

“How exactly did I end up here? And where exactly is here? This isn’t the room I normally stay in.” You ask as you finally look around the room. 

“No, this isn’t your room. This is Riorson’s room from when he used to make regular visits to Cordyn.” Drake confirms.

“You mean when he was engaged to your cousin?” You snipe back, the bitter taste in your mouth causing you to scowl.

“Not engaged. Betrothed. Not something I chose.” Xaden’s voice causes you to jump and your head to turn swiftly towards the door that has just opened. 

The minute his eyes meet yours, the way they soften and swirl with a plethora of emotions, has your heart breaking in your chest. Your head drops down and you stand, immediately trying to leave the room. 

“No.” The word leaves his mouth breathlessly and he’s crossing the room quickly stopping you from going anywhere. “Please Blaze – please stay.”

Of all the ways you’ve heard Xaden talk, in the years knowing and loving him, you had never heard his voice so broken. 

“Why?” The word passes your lips before you can stop it, but now that it has you know there is no way to take it back. 

Pulling back from Xaden’s grip, you look up into the eyes you had been avoiding. A sigh leaves your mouth, though you can feel your chest tighten, as you see the anguish and sorrow clearly on his face. The man in front of you has never looked so lost, broken, and utterly defeated.

“Do you know how long I was waiting for you to sound so desperate for me in the last year?  To not feel like you had forgotten about my existence? Did you even realize the way you left me behind?” The questions rush from your lips in a torrent, and you have to bite down on your lips to avoid more from spilling.

Have you broken Xaden Riorson?

Is the only thought you manage to have as you watch the tears slip down his cheeks.

Your head is spinning with the emotion that is ripping from the man in front of you. As much as your brain holds onto the anger that had settled in you, your heart is shattering watching him crumble before your eyes. Your hand comes to your chest as your throat begins to close trying to hold back your own tears. 

Your vision begins to swim with tears as suddenly Xaden moves. He crashes to his knees as he grabs you by the waist crushing you to him so tightly you know there will be bruises there tomorrow, though you don’t focus on that when you hear the sob tear from his throat.

 Standing there frozen in place, your emotions war within you on whether to push him away or try to comfort him. In the end your heart wins out and you rake your hand through his hair. The gesture causes his breath to catch in his throat and his hold on you to tighten even further. 

Bringing your hand down and placing your fingers under his chin, you tilt his head up to look him in the eyes. As he does, you can’t help but trace the tears still falling from his eyes wiping them as they continue to dampen his cheeks.

“Xaden.” Your voice comes out as a calming whisper. “You need to breathe for me, alright?”

He gives a short nod as he tries to calm his breathing while still being plastered to you. Your fingers absentmindedly stroke his cheeks, keeping a steady rhythm to help soothe him. 

As his breathing begins to level, he takes both of your hands in his and kisses your palms slowly rising to his feet. 

Not letting go of your hands, he pulls you to the bed and sits you down next to him. You try to pull your hands away, acutely aware that Violet could walk in at any second, but he tightens his grip further. 

“Y- you d-don’t know h-how long I’ve been dreaming of seeing you again.” The confession comes out in a stuttered whisper as Xaden continues to pull your hands forward trying to tug you closer and calm his emotions. 

You can’t help the incredulous look you give him. After everything that had happened over the last year, you never believed that Xaden would even care about seeing you again.

“Forgive the brashness Xaden, but I have a hard time believing that with everything that happened at the end of our relationsh-.” As you finish, Xaden doesn’t try to hide the way his breath hitches as you draw a line in the sand of your relationship, but he quickly cuts you off. 

“Don’t.” The word comes out with such force you immediately rear back a bit. “That wasn’t the end. This isn’t either.” He says firmly brooking no argument. 

As he finishes, your head cocks to the side and the look you give him is filled with resignation. “I don’t think you’re allowed to make that call alone. Besides, I’m sure Violet wouldn’t want to hear that.”

At the mention of the silver-haired girl, Xaden picks up his hand and grabs your face with deliberate force, directing you too look candidly into his eyes. “I don’t give a fuck what Violet wants. My relationship is none of her fucking business.”

You scoff and try to pull your face away. “I believe it is her business if she’s part of that relationship.”

A frustrated growl slips from his lips as he gets a better grasp on your face. “I’m. Not. With. Violet.” Each word is punctuated through grit teeth.

“More fool me then. Left behind for someone you aren’t even with.” You can feel yourself getting nasty, the attitude and anger lying dormant rising to the surface.

“I’m sorry.” Between the words and the way Xaden is looking at you, it’s as if a cold bucket of water has been poured on you and doused the fire that had begun to race through your veins.

“Excuse me?” You ask incredulously, furrowing your brows because you’ve never heard Xaden say those words.

Xaden takes a deep breath, and confusion becomes shock as he grabs you and pulls you on his lap, his forehead resting on the side of your head as his hands wrap tightly around your waist. “I’m. so. fucking. sorry.” The words leave his mouth punctuated slowly as if to convey their importance. 

He raises his head, and you turn to look him in the eyes. “There aren’t enough words in this world for me to tell you how fucking sorry I am. I’ll apologize to you every damn day for the rest of our lives, but I need you with me.”

After being hurt so thoroughly by this man, you find yourself unable to stop throwing words in his face. “I’m certain that the last year has proven quite the opposite.”

Your words clearly strike a nerve when he flinches, though the movement doesn’t last long. 

“I deserve every ounce of your ire. All the pain you’ve felt tenfold.” He says simply. “And I will gladly accept every ounce of venom you can toss my way. Use daggers if you want to. Make me bleed. But please, come with me.”

“I can’t.” The words are out of your mouth in an instant. There is no way you’re just going to fold to the man in front of you. “Pretty words aren’t going to fix this.”

The look of anguish on Xaden’s face makes your gut twist and your chest feel too tight. 

“They aren’t just pretty words.” The pleading and anguish in his voice is on full display. 

“Your actions for the last year spoke louder than all the words you’ve ever told me. No matter how much I want to believe them.” An emotion flashes in Xaden’s eyes, but it’s gone before you can decipher it.

“Gods Xaden, we’re even having this discussion in a place that you’d been aiding for years, but did I know anything about it. No!” Your voice begins to rise as you gesture around the room. “You’ve been aiding Poromiel, been betrothed to an heir to the throne, and when things blew up in Resson did you even notice my reaction? Or was calming the lightning wielder down just that more important?”

“You think I don’t know how much I’ve fucked up? I’ll spend from now until I meet Malek showing you that needing you isn’t just pretty words. That all the things you didn’t know were not because I didn’t want to tell you, but because I wanted to keep you protected.” The words become harsh as Xaden’s conviction begins to solidify. “You are as vital to me as the fucking air that I breathe, and I haven’t taken a full breath since I realized you were gone. I know I fucked up for the last year. Hell, probably even longer than that, but nothing in this world is more vital to me than you.”

Your eyes dart back and forth between Xaden’s eyes looking for lies, but it hits you suddenly he looked at you the same way for years not giving away any of his secrets.

“I want to believe you. Really, I do.” You start. “But this time you’re going to have to show me, before we are anything again – if we even can be.”

“I’ll do anything you want me to do, but you have to come with me back to Aretia. I want to take you home. To my home and I want to make it yours.” Xaden has slowly walked back towards you leaving little space in between, the scent that you always associated with comfort, mint, leather and the essence of him assaults your nostrils and it takes everything you have to not bury your face in his chest.

“I’ll give you this.” You begin taking a few steps back out of his orbit. “You’ll have the opportunity to show me that what you’re saying is the truth, but I’m not coming with you to Aretia.”

His arm shoots out trying to drag you back to him, but you put up a hand to stop him. “No. If you want any chance at all, you’ll respect my decision.” 

Turning around one last time before exiting his room you look up at the man that brings you both comfort and tears. 

“I’ll always love you, Xaden.” Your voice is quiet as you leave him with parting words, sadness coloring the lines of your face. “But this time you’re going to have to be the one fighting, because I refuse to be forgotten again.”

With that, you let the door fall closed behind you but not before you see the absolute look of desperation on Xaden’s face. Walking away a few paces, you can’t help but overhear the shout of agony from the room you just left as you let the tears flow down your cheeks.

“Come on.” A gentle voice says as you continue down the corridor. Your head turns to the voice as a blanket is thrown over your shoulders and the now familiar warmth of Drake settles over your shoulders. “Let’s get you back to your room for some rest.”

Days later after the delegation from Aretia has left, you are walking in the garden trying to clear your mind from the reeling it’s been doing since Xaden stepped back into your life. As you walk, you let your hand trace over the beautiful roses that line the path, taking in the overabundance of colors that strike against the backdrop of the white palace. 

You close your eyes trying to absorb the smell of the roses and calm your racing mind, but the peace doesn’t last long. A shriek comes from inside the palace causing your head to jerk in the direction and your eyes fly wide. 

Coming in at a rate too fast to seem friendly is a dragon on a collision course with the palace. On your left and right you watch as gryphons launch in the air. You stare with wide eyes, you breath stuck in your throat, as the gryphons descend towards the incoming threat. 

Soon enough though the gryphons turn and come towards the palace as well in the formation of an escort. Your brow furrows as you wonder who exactly has returned to Cordyn so soon. 

‘No one, Loyal One. I’m here for you.’ A crisp female voice races through your mind. 

Your eyes flare as you look towards the incoming dragon, familiarity hitting you like a stone as you watch the coppery sheen of your brown swordtail coming closer and closer.

‘Dhìoch. H-how?’ You don’t need to finish the sentence of how she knew you were here.

‘Sgaeyl. You didn’t think the Brooding One was going to let you be alone with the enemy, did you?’ You mentally curse Xaden and his inability to leave well-enough alone.

‘There’s plenty he doesn’t know.’ You snark, although your mind begins to race as you realize your dragon just might burn you to the ground for your actions.

‘I see that, Loyal One. You have been busy these past months, even without any powers. I knew I was right in my choice, although many have questioned me since your abrupt departure.’ There’s no mistaking the anger in Dhìoch’s eyes as she lands in the garden, talons digging up the gently manicured bushes you were just admiring.

‘I’m sorry Dhìoch, but I just couldn’t stand it any longer. I figured you just severed our bond and found a more worthy rider.’ Even your mental voice becomes small, your own insecurities shining through.

‘You do not apologize.’ Dhìoch says surprising you. ‘Although you were reckless and abrupt, I understand why you did what you did.’

‘However, if you ever think you can leave me again, I will burn you and we will burn together.’ There’s no evading the scathing look from the beautiful, bronzed creature in front of you and there is no way you are going to challenge her threat.

‘I understand Dhìoch and I won’t allow myself to become that forgotten girl again.’ You confirm and Dhìoch sends an acknowledging hum through the bond.

With Dhìoch back at your side, you spend days working on repairing your shields and practicing your signet. It doesn’t take long as everything moves through you like a stream that had been denied water, the feeling of being whole again finding its way to you.

Syrena and Drake spend time training with you when they are in Cordyn and thankfully let you know whenever there will be a new drop of daggers. Between trying to avoid Catriona before she left for Aretia and then trying to avoid Xaden, you find yourself always playing a game of hide and seek. 

Unfortunately, when you are playing against a shadow wielder, you luck is more often than not, terrible.

“Blaze.” Your eyes immediately roll as you continue walking back to the training fields itching to get away from him. But the man of shadows will have none of it. A cool whisp wraps around your wrist and tugs causing your steps to tumble slightly backwards and into the chest of the man basically running you down. 

“Will you stop calling me that.” Your voice rasps in irritation at the man now holding you by your waist against his chest.

Before you can so much as turn, he buries his face in the side of your neck and his arms slither all the way around your frame before you hear a breathy response. “No.”

“Why?” You ask tersely as you try to pry yourself free.

“Because there is no alternative I will accept, then you burning with me. You’ve always been an all-consuming flame, whether passion or hatred and I’ll never let your blazing glory go.” Xaden says, his lips brushing your ear as he speaks.

Huffing, you are finally able to tear yourself from his grip. “Is there something you needed? Or are you just here to torment me?”

You don’t miss the way he flinches at your scathing tone, but you’re in no mood. 

“I’m making another drop.” He says simply.

“Aren’t there other people in this group of yours that could do such a menial task?” You ask as your hand gestures about showing your aggravation.

“Of course there is. This man just can’t help himself from being subjected to your company.” Drake interjects as he walks next to the both of you earning a glare from Xaden and an eye roll from you.

“Well let me not subject you to anything, I was just on my way out.” 

“Wait.” Xaden stops you with a hand wrapped around your wrist.

“What? Sgaeyl didn’t give you your report from Dhìoch?” His eyes flaring the only indication that he knows what you mean.

“Exactly. Don’t think I don’t know why my dragon suddenly knew where I was.” You say pointedly. “I’m going on patrol, Drake, I’ll be back later.”

“I’ll come with you.” Xaden says walking to your side.

You whir on him and a sneer leaves your lips. “You, sir, are not enrolled in service to the Poromish, so I don’t think you will.”

“No, I’m not, but I wasn’t asking your permission either.” Xaden steps into your space and you immediately let go a growl and stomp away in the direction of your dragon.

As you make it to the flight field of the palace you can’t stop yourself as you turn. 

“What are you trying to accomplish?” You challenge.

Xaden huffs his own frustrated sigh, raking his fingers through his hair. “I’m trying to prove to you that you are my fucking world. But for some reason, you won’t give me the time of day.”

A humorless laugh leaves your lips. “I won’t give you the time of day. That’s rich coming from you.”

Xaden finally realizes exactly what he said and immediately turns sheepish. You just roll your eyes at the brooding idiot in front of you.

“Let’s go if you’re coming.” The exasperation in your voice is high as you acquiesce to Xaden. His eyes immediately light up and he pulls you to him placing a lingering kiss to your hair. A breathless ‘thank you’ leave his lips before he turns and seamlessly mounts Sgaeyl. 

You shake your head at the last few minutes and immediately mount Dhìoch for your patrol.

This process now seems to repeat every time Xaden makes a weapons drop to Cordyn. Though you get a reprieve for a week at a time when he is clearly stationed at an outpost. 

Walking into a strategy meeting, your brows furrow as you look at the serious looks on the faces of Syrena and Drake. Looking between the two, you know whatever they are discussing isn’t going to be good news.

“Some intel we have seems to point to them heading to Pavis for some reason.” Your ears immediately perk up at the mention of the town you spent weeks in after Resson.

“We are spread thin though, we can only spare one or two fliers to station there.” Drake says not taking his eyes off the map.

“Send me.” There’s no hesitation in your voice as all three heads turn your way. “I’ll be reinforcements. Besides, the only thing going on here seems to be wyvern patrols.”

“Are you sure you’re up for that? We won’t have much back up for you.” Drake questions as he studies you.

“I’m sure. I owe it to the people of the town that took me in without question.” The finality of your voice must convey your seriousness.

“Alright. Though you may need to go alone at first before we can split a squad.” Syrena says as if that would change your mind.

“That’s not a problem. I’ll go start packing.” Immediately rising, you walk briskly towards the bedroom that you’ve called home the last two months.

“Are you trying to avoid a certain shadow wielder’s drop tomorrow?” Drake says as he leans in the door frame. A huff leaves you as you shake your head at his question. 

“No, actually. This has nothing to do with him. I owe Red and Ceridwen more than they’ll ever realize.” You stop packing to look back at Drake. The thought of seeing the people who became surrogate parents spurring your rush. “I’ll do everything I can to make sure they are safe.”

Drake gives you a knowing smile while pushing off the door. “I know you’ll take care of them the best way you can.”

As he turns, he throws over his shoulder, “though I don’t know how we’ll survive when your incendiary loverboy finds out you aren’t here.”

The comment causes you to burst out in a fit of laughter before replying. “Oh, I have faith that you can figure it out.”

Drake waves you off as he continues down the hallway and you go back to packing.

A few hours later you find yourself taking a deep breath and enjoying the freedom of flying, while trying to stop from thinking about what you may be walking into. As Dhìoch begins her descent, you cannot help the beaming smile that lights your face seeing the tavern in the distance.

‘Do you think you’d be willing to meet the people who took me in?’ Hesitently asking Dhìoch down the bond.

‘I’d be willing to show my appreciation to the people who looked after you.’ Dhìoch hums in response and your smile grows a little wider.

Dhìoch comes to a stop not far from the front of the inn and you dismount quickly hoping to alert the owners inside without drawing too much ire from the rest of the residents. As you step into the tavern, the smell of roasting meats and stale alcohol hit your nostrils and your nose scrunches in memory.

Noting the lack of either of the people you are looking for, you knock on the bar and call out in a harsh voice. “Can’t anyone get some service around here.”

The heavy thump of a cup hitting a table makes you smirk as you watch Red come from the back, a look of irritation on his face. Though the look doesn’t last long as the minute he recognizes you he smiles widely almost as if welcoming hope his daughter. The warmth that settles in your chest has you smiling right back to him. 

“Ceridwen.” He calls to the kitchen. “Come and see what the gryphon dragged in.”

“What are you talking ab-“Ceridwen’s words are cut off as she sees you standing at the bar. “Oh, my dear, I’m so happy to see you.”

It takes less than ten seconds to be swept up into Ceridwen’s hug as you hear Red’s warm laugh behind you. You haven’t smiled so much in the last few months, let alone the last year. 

Your heart continues to warm hours later as you sit at a table in the tavern deep in conversation with the two.

“If I would’ve known that introducing you to Drake would put you in so much danger, I would’ve contacted someone else.” Red grumbles next to you. 

“You can’t blame it all on Drake, I did ask and require him to take me.” Your reassurance does nothing to quell Red’s thoughts on this issue if his huff is anything to go by.

“So how long will you be here?” Ceridwen asks though you can see the worry in her eyes.

“Hopefully not long, and if we are lucky, the intel that was given is false.” You say as you smile, but this time it doesn’t reach your eyes.

“Either way,” Red says, clapping you on his back as he begins to walk towards his chambers. “We’ll sleep better at night knowing that you and your dragon will be here watching out for us.”

You squeeze Ceridwen’s hand and send them both a small smile as you begin to turn and walk to your own bed. As you sink into the mattress you can’t help but take a deep breath, relishing in the warm feeling of familiarity and comfort.

True to their words, a few days later a pair of fliers come into the tavern looking for you, relaying your orders from Drake. Though you look up in shock when the man himself walks into the tavern not long after they had finished.

“Why are you here?” You ask in obvious confusion. “Jesper and Tusarr just told me everything I needed to know as far as orders.”

“Wonderful.” He clasps his hands, and you can see the agitation rolling off him only causing your confusion to continue. “I’m glad that has been cleared up, but that isn’t why I’m here. Unfortunately, I’m here on a personal matter regarding you.”

You quirk an eyebrow in invitation for him to continue.

“I don’t know what magic you’ve used, but it seems we’ve almost had another international incident with your rabble-rousing paramour.” You honestly feel like you’re in some sort of book, shaking your head slightly, Drake must be joking.

“The shadow wielder just about tore down the entire palace when he learned you weren’t in Cordyn. Though with his temper there was not time to explain to him that we knew where you were.”

Now a humorous smile is stretching across your face, and you can’t help when the laugh you’ve been trying to hold in bubbles out.

“I knew that you could embellish things, but this seems extreme, even for you Drake.” You say between laughter as your hand comes up to grasp Drake on the shoulder. Though your laugh begins to die down when you see the look on Drake’s face.

“O-Oh.” You stutter in amazement. “You really are serious.”

The indignant scoff he gives you is only broken off by the slamming of a door against the tavern wall. You both turn your head quickly as the air in the tavern turns icy with anger. 

“Why are you always with him?” The question comes out in a growl as the disgruntled man stalks towards you as if he’s the predator and you’re his prey.

Your eyes flash in challenge, after everything over the last year, you refuse to back down. 

Turning away from Xaden, you direct your next statement to Drake. “Thanks Drake. I’ll take it from here and I’ll speak with you again before you leave regarding the next few weeks.”

Drake gives you a curt nod and a small uptick of his mouth, turning away from Xaden and back out the door of the tavern. Taking a deep breath, you slowly turn your head and look up to meet the stare of the most insufferable man in your life, at the moment at least. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” You snap at Xaden while straightening your spine. You relish in the surprise that flashes in his eyes when you step up into his space. 

“My problem. You just fucking left Cordyn and didn’t say a fucking word.” Xaden gets out between grit teeth.

“Here’s the problem Xaden.” Your tone short. “You think you have a say in where I go. You aren’t my wingleader anymore. I do not report to the cadre at Basgiath or in Aretia or whatever the gods names you are part of, so I don’t see where I’m stationed or move to is any of your business.”

You watch as his jaw ticks and you can feel the tension in his muscles from where he stands close to you. 

“I am more than aware of all of that. I am aware that I have no right to know where you are.” The anger in his voice is present, but his eyes tell a different story. In his onyx depths you can see the fear and panic swirl in and out of their golden flecks. “But for my own fucking sanity, I need to know.”

The last part comes out as little more than a whisper. An admission that looks like it may have cost the man in front of you his entire being. Xaden takes a shaky breath before closing his eyes.

“I have no right to demand anything from you, and I know that. But I about went out of my fucking mind when I searched for you, and you were nowhere in Cordyn.” He takes a small breath before the emotion clogging his throat stops him.

An arm shoots out and forcefully pulls you forward, his arms wrapping around you in a vice grip. “I ca- I can’t lose you like that again. You can’t just disappear.” The last part is a whisper in your ear as his face comes to burrow in your hair.

You stand there for a few moments unsure exactly what to do. After the night in Cordyn, you thought the way Xaden acted was just from the shock of finally seeing you again, but with this, you realize there is something more to it.

Finally giving in for just a moment, you bring your arms around Xaden’s waist and return the hug. You hear his breath hitch from where his face is still buried in your hair and his arms hug you tighter. 

“Truthfully, I wasn’t trying to hide from or scare you.” You tell him, your tone gentle. “There’s been intel given and I chose to come back here. This place is special to me.”

Xaden picks up his head looking at you with furrowed brows as you finish and give a labored sigh. 

“After I left Resson, I traveled on foot for a few days and found myself here. I worked in this tavern for a few months before the owner, Red, put me in contact with Drake to assist with the war effort.” Xaden watches you explain, and you see the hurt on his face at your tale of your own exploits after Resson. 

“Someone could’ve killed you if they knew you were a rider.” Xaden’s panic is palpable, and you huff a laugh.

“At the time, I didn’t really care.” Xaden’s eyes flash before he’s dragging you into another hug, crushing you even harder than before.

“Though I have to ask one question.” You say as you pull away from Xaden’s hold. “If I didn’t disappear, would you be acting this way? Would you be fighting for me like you are now?”

The look on Xaden’s face makes you shake your head and move a few steps away putting much needed space between the two of you.

“Exactly.” Resigned, you continue, maybe because you want to add salt to the wound making him suffer like you did. “While I was here, I was welcomed. Hell, I’d go out on a limb and say I’m loved. And you dare to be jealous of Drake, when he’s done nothing but look after me for the last few months.”

“Gods Xaden. Is there any us to go back to?” The bitterness in your voice cutting like the blade of your sheathed dagger.

“Don’t say that.” Xaden utters, a quiet plea.

“Why? It’s the truth. You’re trying to atone for something that I don’t even know if we can get past. How can I trust that when push comes to shove, I’ll be your priority?”

“Fuck! I know!” He says, his anger getting the best of him. “Do you not understand how angry I am at myself for the way I treated you. For the way I let you be left behind.”

Xaden begins pacing franticly in a way you’ve never seen before. “I’ve woken up every fucking day – when I did even fall asleep - replaying all the fucking ways I’ve failed you. The one person I never wanted to neglect; is the one person I wholeheartedly failed the most.”

“And no, I can’t change all my shitty actions. I can’t do anything but try to gain your trust back for the rest of my fucking life. I would gladly take a scar for every way that I’ve hurt you than lose you forever. You are the only sunshine I’ve found in a life that’s been filled with nothing but rainstorms and darkness. I’ll do whatever I can to prove to you that I’m worthy of you. That you are my only priority.” As he was speaking Xaden grabbed your hands in his and continued to drag his thumbs over your wrists, grounding you to the feeling of him. 

Tipping back your head and closing your eyes to take a moment for yourself, you try to clear your mind from all the hurt that you’ve felt. To wade through the overwhelming swath of emotions. 

But your head jerks up and eyes go wide as you hear the sirens blare. Pulling your hands from Xaden, you yell for Jesper and Tusarr telling them to find Drake.

As you sheath the few weapons you had left behind the counter, you look back to Xaden. “We can discuss this more later, but you need to leave. That’s the attack siren and if Dhìoch is correct we only have about twenty minutes.”

He looks at you with steel in his eyes. “I’m not fucking leaving.”

“Yes, you are.” You say back with finality. “You aren’t even supposed to be here and this isn’t your fight. You need to get back to your own riot.”

“I’m not fucking leaving you here to fight alone.” Xaden hisses through grit teeth as you both walk out of the tavern.

You turn and pull him down by the lapels on his jacket. “Yes. You. Are.” Steel in your gaze and words. “This is not your fight. This is Poromiel, not Navarre, not Aretia, not Tyrrendor. Go home and defend it.”

You let go and get two steps before his hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you backwards. 

“I’m going to get the rest of my riot from Draithus and will be right back.” He explains, his face directly in yours. “Do not be reckless.”

Before you can give him a sarcastic sass back, you are plastered to his chest, his hands in your hair at the nape of your neck, and he’s kissing you with a ferocity you’ve never felt from him. You gasp as the kiss ends as quickly as it began and he’s tearing himself away and mounting Sgaeyl.

You blink a few times and then shake your head, trying to clear it before running for Dhìoch. 

‘You need to clear your head for battle.’ Dhìoch sasses, clear amusement in her tone.

‘And you need to learn to tell me when Sgaeyl is here and bringing around her infuriating rider.’ You snark back with an irritated sneer to the back of your dragon’s head.

‘He may be infuriating, but he still has your heart racing.’ You roll your eyes at your dragon’s need to maneuver in to your personal life. 

Your banter with your dragon is cut short when you see an entire hoard of wyvern in the distance heading straight towards Pavis. 

‘Are you ready for this Dhìoch?’ You ask, your mind calculating on the best ways to strike.

‘We will not fail. Now brace yourself Loyal One.’ Dhìoch says before shooting straight towards the hoard.

Your heart rate kicks up as the prospect of your first battle back with your dragon begins. 

‘Can you relay the information to the gryphons to help evacuate the citizens and we’ll handle the hoard?’ You direct.

‘Done, they are working to put them in the safe houses.’ Dhìoch confirms as she cuts through the air with a precision you admire. 

As you get closer, your eyes widen at the amount of venin atop the wyvern. You try to count, but you lose it at five. Gears clicking in your mind, you take a mental tally of the alloyed daggers you have on you and know you must keep them close. Having only three will limit your ability to throw. 

‘Are you ready Dhìoch? I’m going to need you to fly as close to the wyvern as possible.’ You ask as you go over the plan in your head.

‘I don’t believe the Brooding One would agree with your plan, but yes we will take these abominations down.’ You ignore Dhìoch’s tease and reach for her power.

As you feel the sensation of her power fill your veins you look down to see your fingers disappear from view. Once you can feel yourself fully cloaked, you carefully stand and walk as close to the juncture of Dhìoch’s leg and wing. As Dhìoch begins to hover, you duck to avoid scorching blue fire as it sizzles through the air above you and immediately slide down off her back.

Landing on the back of one of the smaller wyverns, you crouch and try to gain your balance as best as possible. The small form in front of you wears purple leathers and you assume this must be one of their students. Without giving the venin time to turn around, you fling one of your three daggers and hit it in the back of the neck. You watch as the blood flows and the venin goes limp. Before you can jump, you feel the wyvern you are on begin to rapidly descend. 

Immediately rising to your feet, you don’t think and just jump though you know you are too close to the wyverns falling body.

‘Dhìoch!’ Your mental voice is panicked as you are unsure where your dragon is currently. The panic doesn’t last long as you suddenly feel talons wrap around you. Drawing a ragged, grateful breath when you see the coppery sheen above you.

‘You should trust me more than that.’ Dhìoch says in an offended tone as she tosses you up and catches you on her back.

Scoffing, you can’t help but roll your eyes. ‘Yes, well I wasn’t expecting that wyvern to go into freefall.’

You get back into your seat and Dhìoch begins to climb above the battle again. Looking down, you can see a venin on the way into the heart of town. Panic begins to rise when you realize that Ceridwen and Red are in the perfect collision course for the venin.

‘You must take me down Dhìoch. I won’t let anything happen to them.’ You can feel your terror begin to take over at the thought of something happening to the couple that took you in.

‘Get them out and then come right back. I will not let you get drained on the ground.’ Dhìoch growls, her disapproval evident. 

Dhìoch begins her descent, and you know this will be a running landing. Throwing up a quick prayer to Zinhal, you rise from her back and head back to her shoulder. As she hits to the perfect height, you let yourself fall and with more ease than you expected, you are immediately running towards the tavern. 

“Red! Ceridwen! Get out now!” You yell at the top of your lungs racing for the front of the tavern. 

Ceridwen darts out of the front door with a small satchel in tow. Behind her your eyes widen as Red dons his brown leathers and is sheathing a sword to his back.

“You should be taking shelter with Ceridwen!” You yell at him as soon as he’s in earshot.

He gives you a look that shows he is anything but impressed. “No, I should be fighting for you and Ceridwen both and that is what I intend to do.”

Ceridwen comes next to you and puts a hand on your forearm. “You’re fighting a losing battle my dear, so instead of wasting any time, let’s go.”

You shake your head and begin pulling Ceridwen along. ‘Dhìoch can you tell Tusarr to help get Ceridwen to safety.’ A low growl in your head is the only response before you hear the screech of a gryphon landing. 

“Go with Tusarr, she’ll take you to the others. I’ll take care of Red the best I can.” You say to Ceridwen before she tugs you close in a tight hug.

“Take care of yourself, my dear, and don’t worry about Red, he can take care of himself.” She says before letting you go and repeating the same process with Red.

‘Alright Dhìoch, let’s take down some more of these dark wielders.’ You say as you run towards an opening for Dhìoch to land.

As you see her scales come into view, you turn, and your eyes fly wide. In the few minutes since leaving Red behind a venin has materialized and is staring him down. Letting Dhìoch’s power flow, you mask yourself and begin sprinting toward Red’s side. 

Getting closer you see him locked in battle and as much as you don’t want to admit it to yourself, his strength seems to be waning. 

Your heart stops and eyes go wide as you watch the venin slash down Red’s arm with a dagger that was just dripping with a green liquid.

“NO!” The scream rips from your lips as Red slashes his sword towards the venin slashing at its throat. As you slowly get closer you can see Red’s movements becoming sluggish.

Please Malek, no! Take me instead!

‘Dhìoch you need to get Red to the healers and tell Drake to get him healed.’ You demand of your dragon. 

Not taking your eyes from the venin still managing to stand, you stalk forward, cloaked and invisible. Your face contorted in rage, you continue running and pull the alloyed dagger from your ribs. Without stopping, you barrel into the venin with your dagger leading straight into his chest. The venin hisses at the impact and the dive of your blade. Blood rushing in your ears, you fall with the venin, and it isn’t until you roll, now looking up at the sky that a familiar burning pain breaks through at your wrist.

You don’t need to look down to know that some of the poison is now in your system, but you won’t let them win. You won’t let the venin take Pavis without a fight. Slowly rising to your feet and looking at your surroundings., the town that you have loved is now alight in flames surrounded with a thick smoke, suffocating the beautiful town center. 

‘I am on my way to you, Loyal One.’ Dhìoch confirms as you begin to jog towards an area for her to land.

As soon as you see Dhìoch’s talons hit the ground, you start running for her leg. Your breathing is coming in rapid pants as you try to ignore the burn in your arm. 

‘You need to be seen by a healer as well.’ Dhìoch growls as you tear a strip from your shirt and wrap your wrist.

‘No. I will save these people first, with or without your help.’ You demand without feeling any remorse for your biting tone.

You can feel Dhìoch’s displeasure at your response down the bond, but she doesn’t press. Instead, she flies back into the din, the stifling smell of smoke rising from the ground and clouding your vision. As though Zinhal hears your pleas, there is a break in the smoke on the horizon and you spot a venin with its robes billowing in the wind.

‘That one’s next.’ You refuse to hear any argument from Dhìoch as you set your sights on the enemy in front of you. Dhìoch slices through the air and as you grow closer to the venin, you can see the brilliant red that spiders from the creature’s eyes down the sides of its face.

Dhìoch clearly has read your intentions and begins her ascent to hover over the massive wyvern that has your next target. As she levels out, you begin to lower to her shoulder but can’t bite back a sharp intake of breath when your wrist moves, the poison making its presence known. You try to avoid the sting and crouch before launching yourself from Dhìoch’s back.

For a few seconds you are airborne and hoping that you estimated the correct spot. You don’t have long to worry as you feel your feet hit the leathery surface of the wyvern. You let your entire body drop as you try to gain your balance on the creature. 

Looking up, your eyes fly wide realizing that the venin can see you and is looking directly into your eyes.

“Ah, the pained one again makes an appearance. Tell me, do you really think you can win this challenge?” The oily voice that drags from the venin in front of you draws shivers down your spine.

You don’t respond as you know there is no reason. The venin slowly stalks towards you, wind whipping at their robes with two blades drawn. Assessing the way the venin moves; you know that you’ll have to be quick.

‘Make sure you’re below me Dhìoch, just in case.’ You hear the hum of agreement in your mind as you draw your blade.

‘Dispatch the dark wielder quickly. You need to get back to the flyer captain.’ You hear the slight concern in Dhìoch’s voice.

You continue using Dhìoch’s power to remain cloaked, although you’re unsure of how much use it Is against the venin. Creeping forward you hold an alloy hilted dagger in your right hand. Letting the thought linger too long, you must go on the defensive when the venin strikes first, and the bite of a dagger slashes close to your face. 

Ducking down, you feel your foot slip slightly on the leathery back of the wyvern. Without thinking through your moves, you slam a dagger into the back of the wyvern to avoid falling. The minute it embeds, the wyvern bucks and you can do nothing but hold on as best you can, your wrist burning with fury. Regrettably, the venin does not seem to be affected by the wyverns thrashing. You watch as they continue to get closer and try to throw your right leg up and regain your balance. 

Pulling yourself up, you don’t see as the venin brings one of its blades down and though you move quickly, it isn’t quick enough to evade the blade completely. An agonizing scream tears from you as the blade pierces your side.

‘Loyal One, finish it!’ Dhìoch demand is covered in icy dread as you try to push past the pain. 

Taking as deep of a breath as you can, you gather your remaining strength and duck as the venin goes to slash at your other side. A loud roar sounds that causes the venin to turn its head and you take the opportunity to bury your remaining alloyed dagger into its throat. 

The venin coughs and sputters grabbing at its throat, but you watch as the skin around it begins greying and shriveling.

“You bitch!” The venin gasps and lunges towards you. Losing your balance, you trip backwards and find yourself falling from the leathered surface of the wyvern. A particularly fiery jolt of pain slashes through you as you begin falling and you watch as your arms raise, and you can see you are no longer invisible.

“Y/N!” A voice calls in the distance and you turn to see a blur of blue. As your mind is drug down with poison, you barely have the cognizance to call out for Dhìoch. 

You hear air furiously whipping around you and all the breath tumbles from your lungs when you hit a rough surface hard. The impact has your vision going completely black as your body jerks from the impact. 

With all the poison coursing through your veins, it proves impossible to open your eyes, but you can feel that your body is still rolling. The only thought left is that those you care about are safe before you succumb to the darkness.

You feel your consciousness pull forward, even though your body feels like a thousand weights are tied to it, even your eyelids feel tethered. The roughness that you remember last seems to be replaced with something soft and the fire in your veins only a light hum. The exhaustion of your mind and body don’t keep your conscious state around long as you feel yourself drift again. 

Unsure of how long you’ve been in a state of poisoned dissidence you finally feel as if you can move your small extremities. You take the time to try and wiggle your fingers and toes, but your eyelids still feel like they have anchors attached. You try straining to hear any sounds around you, but everything still feels slightly muffled.

“How long is this going to take?” An impatient male voice penetrates your ears.

“That’s not something I can predict. I can’t mend the poison from her system.” Another male voice replies in exhaustion.

“It’s been over a week. It didn’t take this long when Violet was poisoned.” Confusion swirls in your brain as you try to place the name that seems so familiar. 

“I understand, but poison doesn’t affect every person the same. Besides, from the light discoloration from her veins on her left arm, it seems like this has happened before.” The exhausted male voice replies.

You can hear as the pacing footsteps suddenly halt. “What?!?” The other voice says a tone that seems slightly panicked but also filled with fury.

“Didn’t you notice the black veins running down her arm while we were in Cordyn. They stood in stark relief to her skin and that dress.” You’d give anything to move your body, wanting to wrap your arms around yourself in soothing gesture at the conversation you’re hearing.

“I was a little busy trying to keep myself in one place and not forcefully pick her up and leave with Sgaeyl, so no, I suppose I didn’t notice.” Realization hits as now you realize its Xaden’s voice you’re hearing. “Besides, why would that matter, that was over a month ago now.”

“Yes, but her body obviously wasn’t recovered from that poisoning, so now it’s taking longer.” The other male in the room has a voice that sounds familiar now, but you still can’t place it.

“And I’m going out of my fucking mind. I’m being ordered to Draithus again tomorrow and I can’t leave not knowing if she’s going to be okay.” Xaden’s voice becomes tight with worry and frustration.

“Unfortunately, Lieutenant, you don’t have much of a choice. You’re going to be leaving tomorrow with Sgaeyl and you’ll have to deal with it.” The voice has grown hard, both with weariness and aggravation. 

“Don’t fucking try me, Brennan. You won’t fucking win.” Xaden challenges.

“Oh, I don’t have to try you. Lieutenant Colonel, remember?” With that last statement, you hear as footsteps sound and a door clicking shut behind them. 

As you begin to feel the eternal pull of sleep weighing on your body again, you notice the bed you’re in dip down slightly. 

“Blaze, I need you to fight this. I need you with me. You can’t leave me again, not like this, not before I can show you how much I love you.” There’s no mistaking the pain in Xaden’s voice and the way it breaks in and out. It’s clear that he’s barely holding himself together, but the pull of darkness is too sweet to deny.

 

Taking a deep breath, you finally feel the ability to flutter your eyes open. Though as you do and stare up at the ceiling, everything still feels foggy. You’re unsure of how long you just lay there with your eyes open, but eventually you gather enough strength to sit up. 

Looking around, your brow furrows trying to place the room you are in. It’s well appointed, but there’s no white marble and blinding gold, this chamber is pure stone with tapestries lining the wall generating some warmth to the space. You look up at an armoire that is at the side of the room and turn to see a door that you assume must be a bathing chamber. 

There is a large green chair that has been posted next to the bed as if someone was sitting there waiting for you. You close your eyes as you try to clear the fog that still clings to your brain and memories. The action feels like wading through waist deep water, and you can’t help the confusion that seems to settle.

Brows furrowing you try to remember the last place you were, because you know it wasn’t wherever this is. Looking down, you see that you’re in a pair of loose-fitting black pants and oversized shirt. Running a hand through your hair, your nose scrunches at the greasy feeling of your hair. Whatever has happened in the last few days, the only thing you want right now is a nice long shower.

Slowly picking your overtired body from the bed, you shift to a standing position. Trying your best not to wobble, you walk into the bathing chamber and immediately spot the shower and take a deep breath. Hobbling straight over, you turn the taps and let the warm water run through your fingers relishing in the feeling. You let yourself relax into the shower and hope to Amari that the water will wash the fog of your mind. 

Grabbing a towel and drying yourself, you walk towards the mirror and place your hands on the sink sucking in a breath and letting the granite hold your weight. The peace that settled into you during your shower is short lived as you look up into the mirror. 

Gasping, you fumble backwards, and your hand flies up to your chest. You watch the mirror as your fingers trace the scar on the left side of your body and the lingering blackness. Eyes flying wide, the memories of the battle rush back in a torrent causing you to move. 

You go back into the room, the peace of the shower completely gone, and search for clothes. You see riding leathers that look to be about the right size and immediately begin tugging them on your body. Lacing your boots with as much efficiency as you can master, you are shooting up, not concerned about your hair or the fact that you don’t even know where you are. 

Only one thought is pulsing through your mind. ‘Is Red alright? And where is Ceridwen?’ The thought leaves unbidden, and you pull up to a halt at the bottom of the stairs when there’s a response.

‘They are both safe and resting in a small cottage in town.’ Dhìoch’s voice slithers quietly into your mind.

‘Can you take me to them?’ You ask as everything hits in succession.

You know you must look like a crazed fiend, but your emotions are hitting you from every side and you need to see they are safe for yourself. There’s a minute where you think Dhìoch will deny you, but then you just ignore her and begin back down the stairs and sprint out large doors. 

Unsure where you are and where you are going, you turn and see a small town in the valley below. Turning back your eyes widen at the stone fortress that you just exited from. 

I’ll worry about that later. Is the only thought you have as you begin walking towards the town below. You have no idea where you are going, just that you need to lay eyes on the two people that saved you from yourself.

As you begin to enter the thick of the town, you wrap your arms around yourself as you brace from the cold wind that has begun whipping around you. Arriving at the heart of the town, you enter into one of the taverns. 

“Excuse me.” You say as you walk up to the barkeep. “Do you happen to know if there was a couple that was brought to this village from Pavis a few days ago? Their names are –.“

“Y/N!” You cut yourself off as you hear the familiar voice yell your name.

“Ceridwen!” You yell back and instantly run towards her and embrace her in a bruising hug. 

“Thank the gods! We’ve been so worried about you.” She gets out in a rush parsing over you as if looking for injuries.

“I’m fine. How are you? Is Red alright?” The rush of your words and panic in your eyes makes Ceridwen soften her eyes at you.

“Thanks to you.” She says as she grabs you by the arm. “Come. I know he will be ecstatic to see you finally awake.”

She leads you back out into the town and the tension in your chest begins to ease slightly at her warmth. A small smile spreads on your lips as you get closer to a small cottage closer to the outskirts of the town. Hope fluttering in your chest as Ceridwen goes to open the wooden door and you can’t help but notice the green roof that seems to line every house you’ve passed.

“Ceri did you happen to get any eggs while you were out.” A male voice calls that immediately has you taking a breath of relief. 

Walking further into the room, a beaming smile spreads across your face that you can’t control. 

“Thank the gods!” Red says in a breathless whisper before tugging you into a fierce hug.

You let your body slacken as the relief of seeing them both crashes over you, Ceridwen coming up behind you and hugging you as well. You let yourself melt into the warmth of their hugs and take the first deep breath you’ve had since you’ve woken up in this strange place.

An hour later you find yourself drifting, your eyes involuntarily closing as the exertion of your day begins to hit you full force.

“Come on, Y/N, let’s get you in bed.” You hear Ceridwen whisper softly.

“I don’t want to intrude.” You say though it comes out in a yawn.

“My dear, you saved our lives, the least we can do is let you rest.” You don’t argue with her logic and slowly follow her to one of the bedrooms. As soon as you step next to the bed, you fall into the mattress and your eyes slide closed.

The next day, you feel at least some of your energy has returned to its normal state and take a short walk into the hills surrounding the town. As you sit with your back on one of the trees, you breathe in the clean air and let the calm of the forest wash over you.

‘Why are you always such trouble?’ Dhìoch slides into your mind a hint of amusement in her tone.

‘Excuse me. How exactly am I trouble? And hello to you too.’ You don’t try to hide your indignation. 

‘Always the one to jump in and save others. Then taking two weeks to wake up.’ You scoff at your dragon, especially when she is intruding on the little solitude you seemed to have found. It isn’t as if you asked to be poisoned again.

‘You could’ve found another rider. I gave you the opportunity to leave me behind.’ Your dragon’s snarl curls around your mind and you know she would be knocking you to the ground if she was in front of you.

‘That isn’t what I was implying. You aren’t the trouble for me. Sgaeyl is.’ Dhìoch says, her tone bored. Though you can’t help but send your confusion through your bond. In the back of your mind a faint whisper of someone talking while you were poisoned flits in your mind, but you can’t quite place it. 

‘Dhìoch, where exactly are we anyway.’ You look around and there is something so familiar about the land, but the answer seems to evade you.

‘I believe the answer to all of that will be coming very shortly.’ You roll your eyes at your dragon’s insistent use of non-answers to your questions. 

Beginning to feel your body tire again, you slowly rise to your feet to begin the trek back to Red and Ceridwen’s cottage. You didn’t ask them where you were, but you were so concerned with their safety, you didn’t care. Knowing they were both safe was the only thought that crossed your mind. 

As you get closer to the cottage, your body begins to feel to heavy and when you go to take your next step, your knee gives out. Expecting to crash to the ground, your eyes snap closed and you brace for the impact. When impact doesn’t come, you open your eyes back up and they flare as they lock with onyx ones.

With two long strides you find yourself gathered tightly in Xaden’s arms and his head buried in your hair. 

“You’re going to send me to Malek one of these days.” He whispers in your hair, though there’s no bite to his tone. You huff a humorless laugh at the statement while still being crushed to the chiseled lines of his chest.

“For some reason I think I have an appointment with the god of death before you do.” You sass back at the insufferable man that has your entire being plastered to him. As if in offense, his arms tighten around you further.

“Don’t even fucking joke like that.” His words come out hard a biting tone to every syllable.

He suddenly pulls you back and stares intensely back into your eyes. He continues searching yours before the exhaustion of the day starts to seep into you again. You let out a large yawn and begin to pull away from him.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’m tired. I’m going to bed.” Before you can get further than two steps ahead, Xaden has grabbed your wrist and whirled you back around.

“Then come with me.” His tone now soft as he looks pleadingly into your eyes. 

“Come with you where? I don’t even know where we are. All I know is there are two people that are grateful for my existence in this cottage that offered me a warm bed.” You continue as you gesture towards the cottage. 

“You’re in Aretia. I took you here after Pavis was evacuated.” He says as if that is an entire explanation.  

“While I appreciate everything you’ve done for Red and Ceridwen, I’ll only be staying until I feel back to myself fully.” You say turning again to walk away.

“You are staying here.” Xaden states with finality and you whir around fully intending to give him a piece of your mind at his overbearing insistence. Your plans however are dashed when the world begins to tilt, and your eyes roll skyward.

“Y/N, Love.” Is all you hear before you feel weightless and find yourself wrapped up in Xaden’s arms and he begins to jog. Unsure of what is happening, you try to let yourself relax as breathing becomes more of a chore. 

Seeming to fade back in and out, you suddenly feel the sharp sting of wind at your face, though Xaden tries to fold you closer towards his chest. “You’ll be alright love; you just need to hold on for me.” Xaden whispers, his mouth grazing your ear with every word. His words may be steady, but there is no mistaking the dread laced in their tone.

As your breathing begins to grow shallow, you’re jolted in Xaden’s arms. Trying to open your eyes, you are met with the looming shadow of the fortress that you had left from a day ago. Though that isn’t what shocks your system.

Your eyes catch Xaden’s for only a heartbeat, but the absolute terror swirling in them puts a crack in the wall that you’ve had up for months. 

“Where’s Brennan?” Xaden barks, between the force of the command and the panic you can only imagine the way people part for the man.

“Wh-what the hell Riorson?” Another male voice questions from further away.

“You need to help her. She fainted and she’s barely breathing.” Xaden explains as you can feel him climbing and hear as a door is kicked open. 

“Stop standing there and fucking help her!” The roar leaving Xaden’s lips has your pulse jumping at the threatening tone.

“You need to calm down. Most likely it’s just the aftereffects of the poison trying to leave her system.” The calm male voice says as you feel Xaden place you down on a soft surface.

“Don’t tell me to fucking calm down.” Xaden growls. “She’s been out for two fucking weeks and then disappears and no one fucking tells me! You want me to calm down, then fix her!”

No words are exchanged before you hear footsteps coming closer to the bed and then a warm sensation seems to wash over your skin. As the warmth begins to fade, you finally take a deep breath and exhale out of your mouth, eyes fluttering open to the familiar stone ceiling you had woken to before.

“Thank the gods.” A breathless whisper comes before Xaden is kneeling next to the bed you are in, closer to your head. Your head turns and you’re met with the eyes that you can never seem to get out of your mind. He brings a hand to your head and cradles your cheek, rubbing his thumbs back and forth in a soothing motion. 

“What happened?” Your brows furrow as you blink your eyes trying to clear the fog in your head.

Another figure catches your attention, and you look down to see a man you’ve never seen before sitting at the base of the bed. 

“I believe it was the last remnants of poison pushing through your system.” The man with auburn curls tells you. 

Your eyes don’t stay on him long as you feel your body begin to drag you down again. Looking back up to Xaden, you slowly blink, the heaviness of sleep beckoning you. “I’m tired.”

“I know, my Love.” Xaden murmurs as his hand continues to stroke your cheek. “Sleep, I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

You blame it on the exhaustion pulling at you when his words cause your entire body to warm and a spark in your chest begin to ignite, though the flicker grows hotter when he leans in and gives your forehead a lingering kiss. Not letting yourself dwell on your feelings, you close your eyes and let yourself drift. 

Unsure of how long it’s been since you’ve drifted, your eyes blink open to darkness around you. Trying to roll to your right and out of the bed, you are immediately stopped by hand that is firmly gripping yours. Turning your head, you see a large figure slouched in sleep in a large armchair brought as close as possible to the bed. 

You slowly untangle your fingers from Xaden’s and continue your roll out of the bed. Heading towards what you think are the windows, you silently let yourself lean into the wall. Pulling back one of the curtains, you let yourself relish in the bright light of the moon that highlights the town below. You take in all the little things you can see by the light of the moon, including the way the moonlight glistens over the green rooftops that dot the town.

Caught up in your perusal of the town, you jolt when you hear the quick snap of the chair on the floor and turn as the occupant jolts up and begins striding towards the door.  

“Xaden.” You murmur in bid not to scare him, and his head immediately turns towards your voice. Without responding to you, he meets you in two strides and turns you to face him. 

“Are you feeling alright?” The concern in his eyes and tone is evident, even in the soft way he holds you. 

“I’m…better. Not sure if I’ll ever be alright.” You reveal quietly which causes Xaden’s arms to tighten slightly around you. 

Resignation tearing at you, there’s no way to stop the words from forming. “What do you want Xaden? After living through the last few months, I need to know. What do you want?”

You let the seriousness of your question leech into your stare, not willing to pretend any longer.

“I want everything you’ll give me.” Xaden says bringing both hands to cup your face. 

“I can’t fucking let you go. I refuse.” He continues fervently his eyes blazing with conviction. “What I said back in Cordyn, I meant every godsdamned word. I just need you to believe me.”

Xaden continues to stare back at you his brows furrowing and eyes turning sad. “I need you to give me another chance. Just one. I promise I won’t disappoint you.”

Your eyes slide closed as your head battles with your heart. Your head tells you that you’ll never be the priority for this man, but your heart screams for you to give him another chance. It isn’t either of those things that win out though, it’s the words that Red and Ceridwen left you with when you talked last night.

“No relationship is perfect, especially when you’re young. Life is always going to throw different problems in front of love, that's what makes finding it so special. But, if you find the one person that will fight tooth and nail to love you, you hold it close, because no relationship will succeed without the will to fight for it – you can’t just let it go.” Ceridwen finished while she gave Red’s hand a squeeze.

Opening your eyes, you can see the expectant look on Xaden’s face and the stiffness of his arms, even though his touch is still gentle on your cheeks.

“Are you going to fight for this like you will for the continent?” Your question comes out quiet, almost afraid of the answer.

“I will fight with everything in my being, until my last dying breath. I will always fight for you harder than I would ever fight for the continent.” The fiery conviction is only met with absolute certainty as his arm tightens snuggly around your waist tugging you against him. 

Your own hand comes up and pulls his other from your cheek. As you bring it down, you turn his palm and give it a lingering kiss. His breath hitches as his hand tunnels into your hair drawing you fully against him. 

After some time, Xaden’s hand moves to your neck and angles it to look up into his eyes. The moonlight seems to cast them into pools of gold, a swirling mass of love hidden in every corner.

“May I kiss you?” Xaden breathes out in a whisper as if he’s afraid to speak too loudly.

“Only if you promise it’s only the first in a lifetime’s worth.” The smile that he gives you is brighter than the sun before he tugs your face forward and his lips crash to yours.

Caught off guard at the ferocity behind the gesture, you can’t help your smile and the small laugh that bubbles up. You feel as Xaden’s lips curl into their own smile before the kiss turns languid. 

Xaden continues to kiss you slow, as if he’s trying to re-memorize every single corner of your mouth. You feel yourself melt into his arms as he slowly backs up and sits down on the bed. Without breaking the kiss, he pulls you down onto his lap while tightening his grip as if he can’t stand to have a single bit of space between you. 

You gasp into his mouth as you feel every inch of his body press into yours. He pulls away slightly giving your neck a lingering kiss and rests his forehead against yours.

“Gods, I missed you. Your taste, your lips, the way you fit in my arms.” Xaden says as he punctuates each one with a kiss. 

“Missed me enough to always put me first?” The seriousness of your voice and conviction in your eyes showing through.

Grabbing your face with both hands, Xaden’s eyes seem to search every corner of yours. “No one and nothing will ever come before you again. That is the easiest promise that I could ever make.”

His hand slides to your waist and pulls you flush against him and for the first time in months, you let yourself relax into his touch and breathe him in. As he feels your body soften against him, he brings your head to rest in the crook of his neck and leaves a lingering kiss on your temple before burying his face in your hair.

“You are the light to my shadow. The only home I’ll ever find rest in, and I’ll spend the rest of my life more than satisfied if I always have you.” He whispers in your hair, and in the darkness of his room, in the middle of the night, you breathe deeply and your heart settles as you find your own home in him.

Taglist: @honethatty12 @motorsportloverf1 @annthepenguin @dragonsandrinks @acourtofsmutandstarlight @minidemont @bookishcait

[soulofapatrick]

Giving Into Temptations - Xaden Riorson x Female Reader

Summary: Part two of Don't Tempt Me

Warnings: Smut; P in v; cockwarming

Words: 4.6K 

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

Y/N's POV

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And still, I don’t look at him.

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

Then, finally, he speaks.

“Are you trying to fucking kill me?”

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

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

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

But it’s his eyes that do me in.

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

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

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

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

But I don’t.

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

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

Something snaps.

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

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

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

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

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

And then—fuck.

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

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

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

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

And then—gods help me—my gaze drops.

My breath catches. My pulse stumbles.

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

Oh.

Oh.

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

Because fuck.

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

Xaden hears it.

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

When I do, it’s devastating.

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

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

He knows.

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

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

He’s savouring every fucking second of it.

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

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

No.

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

And gods help me, I want to do something.

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

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

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

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

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

Fucking bastard.

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

I fail. Miserably.

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

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

And fuck.

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

But then his lips brush my ear.

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

I don’t think relaxing is an option anymore.

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

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

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

Slow. Deliberate.

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

Like he wants to.

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

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

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

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

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

And gods.

I don’t think I want to relax anymore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fourth Wing Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 12th Oct 2024

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

[danikamariewrites]

Heyyy can I ask for some Xaden Riorson smut , with the "fuck me to sleep" trope and maybe some cock warming 🥴

All Night (SMUT)

Xaden x reader

A/n: love this concept for Xaden thank you anon 😘

Warnings: smut, cock warming

As Xaden pounded into you, you felt the exhaustion of the day take over. You needed this, needed him so you were determined to stay awake. Xaden felt so good. His cock rubbing all the right places bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm.

You had started out with so much energy but now you just wanted to pass out with Xaden inside you. The thought of his cock in you all night had your pussy dripping even more than it already was. Xaden felt it and grunted as he drove his cock deeper.

“Fuck baby, you feel so perfect so wet for me.” You moan, your head rolling to the side and your eyes squeezing shut. Your so close you just need his hands on your body.

Xaden leans down, his mouth latching onto your breast as he sucks on your hardened nipple. He runs his thumb across the other and you feel his cock twitch, signaling he was close. You moaned out his name and incoherent words strung together follow as your orgasm ripples through your body.

Xaden quickly follows letting go of your breasts as his thrusts slow. Your body feels heavy and tired, your eyes half shut. Xaden gently pulls out of you. You whine making grabby hands with the little energy you have left. “Nooo, come back.”

He brushes your hair back with a large hand, sweetly kissing your forehead. “Shh, I’m right here princess. I promise I’ll stay with you all night.” Letting out another whine you force your head side to side against the soft pillow Xaden laid you on. “No, wan your cock please.” You mumble out.

Xaden let’s out a soft chuckle, “I’ll clean you up and then I promise you can sleep on my cock princess.” You smile and let out a satisfied hum.

After he wipes your mixed releases from your thighs and between your legs, Xaden pulls you to lay against his chest. “Are you sure you want this? All night?” You let out an mhmm and snuggled into the side of his neck. “Words princess.” “Yes please.” He leaves a kiss on your temple.

Xaden adjusts your positions and slides back in to your still soaking pussy. Your breath catches in your throat as you stretch to accommodate him. You drifted off to sleep with a small smile on your lips.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

I put a spell on you

request: I’m here to feed your Xaden delusions, but lead singer/guitarist Xaden performing at some underground club, and they’re covering “You put a spell on me” (the Austin Giorgio version), and he locked eyes with you and is singing to you and only you during that moment

a/n: I honestly will be sending this person to jail time because this behavior is unacceptable. Enjoy... I guess...*shakes head*

warnings: want to take a lucky guess? Sexual themes. I don't write smut on demand but look what you did... Rap it before you tap it kids. Kind of modern day plot line.... eh...

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You were touching up your make-up in a tiny back room. Black silk dress on. High heels. Dark red lip. The hair all curly and loose. The rest of your band was an hour late, so you had to spend most of the night singing up on the stage to music playing from your phone. Were you pissed that this happened on a Friday, the day the pay was always the best? Yes. But you also did not control the weather, and a snowstorm is a snowstorm. "They want you back in five", a voice calls from behind your door. "Coming", you shouted back, double-checking your appearance and grabbing your water bottle.

You were in the middle of a third song when your eyes landed on a guy. And dear Lord, not just any guy. You had covered up the quiver in your voice, but your eyes stayed glued to him. The slightly unbuttoned shirt, the rolled-up sleeves, and the tattoos running all across his arms. If you weren't standing up, you would be clenching your thighs together right about now. You tried to pull your gaze off him, but no matter what, your eyes returned to him every time. His piercing gaze on you.

You were taking a tiny water break when you heard someone tapping the side of the stage you were standing on. Your head whipped to the side. A gasp escaped your lips. The same guy was standing there, a guitar in his hands. "Xaden", he called out, getting up on the stage. "Y/N", you frowned slightly. The drunken man had a big love for coming up on stage to bark into the microphone, hence why no one besides the bad was allowed up there. "I also play, just at a different bar. I play the guitar and sing," he was talking, but you just stood there dumb-struck. The guy... Xaden was also bloody tall, his muscly flame towering over you. "If you don't want...", he started. "No, I mean yes, I mean no", you muttered, making him chuckle slightly. "I need someone to play with; the phone shit is killing me tonight", you shook your head, trying to get your composure back.

"You did well, though. Your voice is very pretty", Xaden said casually as he plugged in his guitar. "Well, we'll see if you live up to the expectations", you muttered back. A smile painted Xaden's lips. He played a couple of chords, turning to you so you would be able to tell him if the tone was comfortable for your voice. You played with that for a couple of minutes before you gave him a thumbs-up. But when you turned back towards the crowd, a realization hit you: you didn't ask Xaden what exactly you were going to sing. You turned your back to him right as the first notes of the song echoed. This motherfucker...

"You put a spell on me", his velvety voice fills your ears, "I'm losing my mind". His eyes were all over you as he sang. Your grip on the microphone tightened as you watched him. "You better stop these things; it's a matter of time". But two can play this game. You threw your head back, letting your hair fall back from your shoulders, exposing the glistening skin of your bare skin, as you let your body sway with the sound of Xaden's guitar. "Before I hunt you down", he continues, "Grab your chin and kiss your lips", his tone seems huskier, and as you pull your gaze back to him, you find his stare still glued to you. Pupils big. "You bring me back; I lay you down and grab your hips". A smirk plays on your lips as you join him on the next line, "And we lose all control", you've never thought your voice would mix with a stranger so well. It's almost hypnotic. So fucking sultry. Xaden's voice hitches slightly, and you yank the control away from him. "And before you know", you point your finger straight at him as you continue, "I've put a spell on you", your hips dip slightly as you let your body get swallowed by the music, "Now you are mine". You've never been more thankful for the bright light that shined right at you as you let your silky voice take over the room. "I've got a hold on you, at least for the night". Your hands move up and down the microphone stand, and you can swear Xaden lets out a light growl. "You know I can't help myself when you ask tenderly". You turn your attention back to him. The grip the guy has on his guitar is close to a breaking point. You can't help wondering if you were to pick up the guitar would yoy find him... but you don't let the thought linger, allowing yourself a moment to bite your lips before you sing the next cues directly, looking at the guy set not more than a meter away from you. "If I'd dimmed the light as your hand brushes me and the floor swallowed my clothes", you said, brushing your hand over the silk fabric, lifting it just a bit to reveal more of your thigh, "And my silhouette puts on a show because I put a spell on you", you muse. Xaden beats you to the next line, "I'm losing my mind; you better stop these games; it's a matter of time". And in the way he sings these lines, you start to feel as if they are more of a promise after all.

It almost feels like a fever dream for the rest of the song. You let the music fully take over as you two shared the stage. The moment the last chords ring, you can't help but let out a shaky breath. The crowd erupts in cheers, and you smile back, bowing slightly. From the corner of your eye, you see Xaden doing the same. You don't turn to him as you move to get off the stage. Your heels click against the floor as you briskly walk toward the back of the bar. And you know. Call it an instinct. He's following you.

You barely make it down the corner when you find two hands on opposite sides of you, caging your body, your face against the wall. But you can't help the giggle that escapes you as you feel him pressing against you, the suspicion you had mid-performance very obviously pressing right against you. "Desperate much?", you purr, turning your head back towards him, your shoulder blades flexing, making the man behind you growl, "You and the little show you put on". You manage to turn around to face him. You two are inches away from each other. "You picked the song, sweetheart", your fingers move to play with the button of his shirt, brushing against his chest.

"I don't lose control", Xaden growls, making you giggle slightly, "I think you're about to". His palm quickly reaches to hold onto your face as he tilts your head up so your eyes are back on him, "These red fucking lips and the words that are leaving them." You bit the corner of your lip, letting your fingers brush down his chest until you're met with his belt, and you do one thing any respectable girl would do: you pull him closer.

You've never been one for careless hookups. You left that to your band. You were a hopeless romantic at heart all along, but this man, with his dark eyes, looked down at you. He's making you question things about yourself. And question them hard. "You're playing a game, sweetheart", Xaden leaned closer, and the warmth of his breath tickled your cheek. "Am I? I didn't notice", you said, holding onto this rush of confidence.

Xaden lets out a breathy chuckle as his hands fall to grab onto your hips before you feel him slowly bunching up the fabric of your dress upwards. Some sense of rationality comes flooding into your brain. What if someone walked by? But Xaden quickly wraps his hand around your throat once again, yanking your attention back to him. "If I touched you now, would you be wet?", a gasp escapes your lips at the bluntness of his words. Yet you are painfully aware of the answer.

"Look yourself", your voice is barely a whisper. Xaden's lips curve upward. "You're giving me your consent to touch you, baby?", he leans in once again. You tilt your head up in hopes of finally meeting his lips, but the grip he has on you stops you. "I asked you a question", he growls. You nod your head eagerly, but Xaden shakes his head, "Words. I need words". Fuck, this guy is trying to be a gentleman in a moment like this where he more than has you under his control.

"Yes, please", you whimper at the feeling of Xaden's fingers brushing against your inner thigh. "Please, what?", he hums, his lips finally brushing against your shoulder. "Please, touch me", a shiver runs down your body as Xaden bites the strap of your dress, dragging it off your shoulder. He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to. His fingers brush over your belly tenderly, his hand fully beneath your dress now. They dip to your hip; he's no doubt searching for the fabric of your underwear, but you know all he would be met with is bare skin.

As if reading your mind, Xaden lets out yet another growl, "Don't tell me that you have no underwear on". His head falls on your shoulders as if he's taking a moment to compose himself, but two can play this game. You reach for the hand that is resting on your bare skin before guiding it between your thighs, muttering a quick "Upsie." And that is the final undoing that man in front of you needed.

Xaden's lips finally crash into yours. Hungry and desperate. You try to meet him halfway, but the dominance is all his as he explores your mouth. You can't help but let out a moan as his fingers started to lazily rub circles over your clit. "You've been dripping all night long like this?", he rasped out, pulling away ever so slightly. "Only when you came to join me", you gasped, feeling one of his fingers slip within your heat like it was nothing. Your back arches against the wall, your hips grinding to meet his touch. "You fucking, minx", Xaden says, losing another shaky breath, "Where's your room?". Your brain is hazy from him, but you manage to point your finger to the door at the very end of the hallway. Xaden wastes no time as he picks you up. You whimper at the loss of his touch but don't protest much, knowing that you wouldn't be able to explore each other in the middle of a hallway anyway.

Xaden kicks the door shut behind him as he enters the small room. The table meets his frustration first as his hand cleans the vanity off, sending bottles and brushes tumbling down. "Hey", you yelp, looking down at the mess, but all that fades away the moment Xaden's lips are on your chest. Nipping at your skin, no doubt leaving bruises for you to look at tomorrow. Your hands reach for his messy, dark curls as you tug gently, pressing his face further into your skin. He doesn't ask for permission the second time around. He just yanks at the delicate straps, making the fabric slide off your chest.

"No fucking bra too", he hisses, his fingers reaching to twirl your hard nipples between his fingers, sending heat pooling into your core, "You're the devil itself". The noise that escapes your lips as he wraps his mouth over your breast, squeezing the flesh, is far from holy. "Fuck, Xaden", you breathe, arching even more into his chest. "So responsive, I like it", he chuckles against your skin, making you huff, "Fuck you, asshole". He lets himself fully laugh this time as he wraps his hand over your neck once more, "You will, sweetheart; you sure as hell will".

And there's something so primal in his voice. Heat rushes all over your body. You spread your legs even more for him without him having to ask; your body is shamefully desperate. Xaden lets his hands move all over your body. Exploring every curve. Every dip. Sending shivers down your spine. Your lips are back on his, and god, you could spend a lifetime kissing this man. You pull at this shirt, breaking a couple of buttons in the process. That's enough for him to get the message, and his shirt is soon thrown somewhere on the floor.

"Condom?", Xaden asks, fumbling with his belt. You shake your head. "Birth control", you muse. "I'm clean", you add quickly. Xaden growls once more. "How do you expect me not to bust?", he asks, eyes locked on you as he strokes himself through his boxers a couple of times. "It seems like your problem", you breathe, quickly licking your lips as he steps back closer to you.

You let your hand brush over his toned muscles this time; you brush his hands away from his body, and they find shelter on your thighs almost immediately. You reach for the waistband of his underwear but stop yourself. Suddenly wanting to have his permission. Your eyes dart up, only to be met with a nod. That's all it takes for you to yank the material off, and all the holy hell, you could tell that he was above average from the boner that's been rubbing against you all this time, but this long and hard length with pre-cum glistening at the very tip.

"You have something to say?", Xaden teases, biting at your shoulder once more. While you gape at him like a fish out of the water. "I... that... ah...", your muttering is cut off by Xaden, who brushes his fingers over your clit, circling it a couple of times before he dips a finger inside you, moving it at a painfully slow speed. "I heard that before", he mumbles against your lips, "It will fit too, don't you worry", he dips yet another finger into your vagina, and you can feel your arousal dripping onto the table beneath you as that same funny feeling curls up at the pit of your stomach.

You reach for his length, stroking it a couple of times. Xaden pulls his fingers out of yours, moving that hand to join yours. Your juices are now coating his dick, and you can't help but whimper at the sight of it. Xaden rubs his tip at your entrance a couple of times. Both of your eyes are now locked on the way both of your bodies are desperate for a release. "Go gently with me; you're bigger than I've ever had", you can't help but let the sudden wave of worry wash over you. Xaden's eyes dart up to yours, his hand moving to rub your thigh. "I'll look after you", he mutters as he slowly slides between your walls. You both share a breathless cry. Curses fill the space. You know that he's not in all the way, and the burn is like nothing you've felt before, but so is the pleasure that makes your toes curl.

Xaden withdraws almost all the way before moving back into your slick pussy, this time way deeper and way quicker. You let out a cry, your hands darting to grab onto his forearms. "Too much", you whimpered, "It's too much", but Xaden only bucks his hips forward, fingers reaching between the two of you so he could rub your clit in lazy circles. "You will take it", he says. Your eyes fall to the back of your head as he bottoms out with another thrust, growling into your ear. You shakily wrap your legs around his torso, bringing him even closer to you.

Your eyes mist for a second, and you feel Xaden leaving kisses all over your face before his head dips, and his mouth is once again wrapped around your nipple as he twirls it between his lips. "Fuck, please", you cry out right as Xaden picks up his speed, his hips moving in a harsh rhythm over and over. Hitting parts of your body that have never been touched before. Another cry slips past your lips, and your nails dig into his back. "You're so fucking pretty", Xaden murmurs, "So fucking tight".

Another moan escapes you, but this time Xaden is right there to swallow your cries with a kiss. A desperate. Messy one. The room is filled with your wetness. Whimper's bounced off the walls; never had you before been so thankful for the loud music coming from the bar. Drowning out your shared groans. Your tits are bouncing from the fair share of speed Xaden is thrusting into you. You feel on fire. All you can think of is him. "Come on, cry out my name for me, baby", he says, his hands moving to hold onto your hips so he could angle his movements even more. "Xaden", you muse, feeling the tingling sensation rippling through you. "Louder", he growls, his hand coming to choke you once more. You fluster your eyes, meeting his gaze. "Harder, Xaden,", you moan at the top of your lungs. Xaden's nostrils flare, and his hand slides to rub your clit once more, way harder now, as his movement picks up. His eyes grow dark as he growls. You hold onto him as your body nearly slides off the rocking table. "I'm going", you cry out, your head falling back. "Come, baby, take what's yours", he grunts, hitting the golden spot deep within you. Sending you into pleasure like no other, as you both fall over the edge at the same time. You feel him jerking a couple of times, and his cum spurting deep within you. Coating your walls. Sending you into yet another blissful blindness as you clench around him. Xaden's breathing is labored as he once again rests against your shoulder. Your hands lazily move up and down his back, drawing circles as you too try to make your heartbeat less frantic.

"That was...", he mutters, pulling up. You chuckle slightly, "Out of this world", you finish his sentence right before his lips are back on yours. It's a lot slower. Less needy. More sensual. You whimper slightly as you feel Xaden's length twitch one more time, still deep inside you. "Is it bad that I don't want to pull out?", Xaden asks, pushing a strand of your hair away from your face. But he does. Slowly. So slowly that you can't help but cry at the sensation. The loss of him is way too evident. Making you feel so empty. He curses at the sight of his cum slowly dripping out of you, coating your tights and the table. He reached for his shirt, crumpled on the floor before he carefully wiped away the mess you two made. You bite your lip as you watch him. So careful. So gentle.

"Your lipstick is smudged", he states, pulling his underwear back on while you're still there, all sprawled out for him. High on whatever the fuck had just happened. "I wonder why", you mutter, trying to pull yourself off the table only to be met with wobbly legs that betray you the moment your heels hit the floor. But Xaden is there in a heartbeat. His arm wrapped around your waist as he steadies you. The asshole has the nerve to laugh at your disheveled state, and you hit his chest.

"You're okay?", he asks regardless. "Soar, and my brain lost concentration with the internet, I think", you muttered, making the male chuckle once more. He carefully pulled the straps of your dress back over your shoulders, hiding some of the red skin on your chest that was already bruising. "Good thing that I'm driving you back home then", he mutters, kissing the side of your head softly before pushing a finger under your chin and bringing your face up so he could kiss your lips a couple of times. You let out a surprised yelp as Xaden dips, lifting you off the floor and into his arms. Hands resting on your bum as you wrap your arms and legs around him, "Come on, baby, the night is still young".

[bodhiscurls]

exceptional. ( bodhi durran )

he's my cousin, of course he's exceptional. you should've known that xaden riorson would've come after you after attacking violet sorrengail. but what xaden should've known is that bodhi durran would destroy the earth and everything in its existence than have someone lay a hand on you.

pairing: bodhi durran x marked fem! reader (ice signet), xaden riorson x violet sorrengail.

themes: angst, violence, wholesome but deadly bodhi.

in all fairness, violet sorrengail was a bitch who had it coming.

it had been a week of the nightly shifts being dumped on you and maybe you were letting the lack of sleep get to you. or maybe it was the extra funny stares that came your way from standing guard at her door or most likely it was the fact that you had hardly seen your boyfriend this week. the thought of being in his vicinity felt far too impossible and it tore at your heart through scrapped edges.

you had another hour left of this shit before your friend liam would take over in the morning and with a single glance into the distance, you felt the yearning stretch your mind.

fucking xaden, you grumble under your breath. with you watching over violet and bodhi on the drop offs, the loneliness crept on you closer it felt as though you'd been caged in.

you feel a creak and instantly shift in alertness. a scan across your surroundings confirms your suspicion that it must be violet awake in her room. nonetheless, you knock lazily.

"sorrengail, shout if you need help," the slumber draws out your speech and the door rips open too quickly you think it may fall off its hinges.

"fuck you," she angrily meets your gaze and your brows furrow in confusion.

"i'm taken sorrengail and even if i wasn't," you scan her head to toe dressed in her night attire, "hard fucking pass."

she storms past you, deliberately brushing into you and the thin thread of patience holding your sanity together snaps within a second.

"hey," you snarl ridden of all your usual composure, "watch it worm." she meets your low warning with a scoff.

"or what huh? you can't even bark unless your master orders you to," and she faces you, stance hardened as steel. you stick your tongue into your cheek, biting back the retort and rising above the pettiness radiating from her.

"you're brave tonight," you level, edge and warning laced in your tone and she scans her eyes down to the daggers laced at your hips. not that you need them given the fact that violet sorrengail the first year who should have been a scribe is not well rehearsed in anything other than being a naive fool. "when you're done playing child, get back inside," you order.

"you're not the boss of me," a glint of defiance shines and by each second you grow more and more annoyed by the minute. "matter of fact, why don't you call your boss down here i've got plenty to say to him to."

and a flash of a milisecond is all it takes for you to rip a dagger from its holder and slice it in her direction. she's caught off guard, backing herself into the wall where the edge of the blade gently cuts her temple upon landing. she knows you could've striked her dead in the forehead but she knows that you also know the importance of her life being tethered to xaden.

"you will put some fucking respect on his name when you speak of the wingleader," you warn softly. violet however, feeling the surge of lightning ripple through her veins has decided that no, tonight she will not listen to anyone. she will not be ordered or babysat, she can and will carve her own way into this world. she pulls back, gently tapping to feel the crimson streak prickle from her temples to her fingers and thats when all she can see is red.

she runs to you, its sloppy and lazy like her steps are too large for her small feet to carry and so you let her knock into you. its not enough to take you to the ground but enough to cause a little stumble. if that destroys her confidence in anyway she only lets it show through wrinkle in her brows and moves on to throwing punches.

she's out of sync and it'd be awful if you really showed her what you're capable of- this likens to kicking a poor defenseless puppy so you let her throw (and miss) more heavy punches that lack force and drive. you catch her fist lazily "you're embarrassing yourself sorrengail, give it up," there's no malice in your tone, slight amusement but mainly annoyance. really, she couldn't save this energy for liam?

"oh yeah?" she's out of breath, "look at you so high and mighty huh, you weren't even enough to save your mother," she spits and your brain doesn't have time to catch up with your fist slamming her to the ground. you're seething, the anger radiating off of you in waves and if you had the right head space or enough time to stop and think you would have actually stopped and thought.

a kick to her side that will have her seeing blue and purple tomorrow makes her scream out in pain but the sound is not enough to stop you, it only fuels your fire. punches on punches, you lift her frail weak body into the air and slam it back down to the earth. somewhere in the distance a streak of lightning threatens the sky, drawing closer to you but like first year squabbling underneath you- its out of sync and misses you by yards.

you pull back, chest heavy in deep breaths as she lies shuddering.

"the next time you even think let alone speak of my mother, remember how your skin feels on this ground, because next time you'll feel it again six feet below," you swear with a hiss. she croaks out a futile apology but the blows have landed and the damage has been done.

its five am when you leave violet sorrengail bloodied and bruised in her hallway. not dead, not even unconscious, but alive enough to remember this lesson and live to seek retribution.

...

its fifteen minutes past five when you're lifted off the ground.

black shadows enclose around your throat, around your arms strapping you in an entrapment only capable of xaden riorson. his eyes mimic the streaks of onyx that menacingly threaten to cut off your oxygen supply and end your existence right here and there and for a second, you still.

you weren't stupid enough to kill violet knowing the effect it would have on your leader but you were stupid enough to disobey his blatant order-

"she was not to be touched," he whispers into the stillness of the early morning, cutting your thoughts clean. its a promise he swore, an oath you took and broke and a valid reason for punishment.

"she went too far xaden- wingleader riorson," in this moment its futile bargaining with your closest friend. right here right now, gone are the memories of running free at riorson house with grass in your hair and suits of cardboard armour. gone are the laughters that come from mischief and sneaking in on your parents discussing battle briefs and running silly after thieving from the kitchens.

what takes his place is him and you, a chain of command and a promise of death distinguishing the two.

"you took it too far, cadet," he spits. "i saw how you left her- not even a scratch was supposed to touch her. she was failed under your protection, by you." each word is a deliberate articulation laced with malice and control and he was right, you let your feelings get the best of you.

"riorson, stop," you gasp through ragged breaths, if you just could create enough room to wiggle and let your hands break free then-

and they do. for a split second, you wrestle and use your signet of ice wielding to freeze at his ankles, his hands and slowly by slowly the cold waters rush up his body.

its working you think, he faulters slightly but he's still got a strong hold on you as he dangles you in the air and its a dangerous bet fighting with xaden riorson- no one has lived to tell the tale but it gives you a slight satisfaction to know you're not the only one hurting. it's either he kills you or you kill him and if you weren't so damn focused on surviving maybe you could've figured out which option was less scarier.

until you're not floating anymore and a pool of water splashes from the air and bounces off the cool tiled floors.

your hands clutch your throat as your body is thrown across the floor with a vicious thud. dark splotches overtake your vision in a fit of dizziness but you can make out the shape of another figure you know well and love completely.

where you've hit the floor not so gracefully, bodhi durran has his hands at his cousins throat pushing him so far into the stone walls that you're sure he's going to leave an indent of the shape of xaden riorson.

it's been a week since you've last seen your lover that in your dazed haze you lie on the floor with a manic smile settling on your lips. you marvel at the softness of his curls that are a stark contrast to the stoic stillness he exudes at a height slightly shorter than his cousin. his black tee is soaked with your icy water and compresses all the muscles you have memorised underneath as his tan skin shines in the white streaks of morning light peaking through the windows. goodness, the skies above must feel how hard you have missed bodhi durran.

"you laid your fucking hand on her," he seethed, and you've never heard bodhi's voice dip this low of an octave as if the timbers aim to reach the very core of the earth. xaden pushes him off slightly but bodhi's got a death grip of his chest, holding him so close.

"she disobeyed an order," xaden makes out the words with a perfect stillness as if being flung halfway across the room hardly has any effect on him and as you stand there clutching your hip you decide that you hate him more than you hated violet in that disastrous moment. "she suffers the consequences," he tries to make an indifferent shrug but bodhi barrels him to the floor. they engage in a silent combat albeit a few huffs and growls. bodhi moves with the same deathly stillness as his cousin. each move is calculated, deliberate, designed to strike where it hurts the most. it's high risk high reward between the two of them, almost cathartic as bodhi slices his dagger alongside the length of xaden's neck.

"she hurt violet," xaden hisses as the metallic smell of blood fills the air. he twists his form and traps bodhi to the ground with his hips locked firmly. "yield," he orders. its a moment of silence, defiance in stares before bodhi uses the momentum of his lower half to completely knock xaden over and dives into a firm headlock.

"she is my violet, she's more than violet could ever be" he breathes heavily, voice straining with the thick of emotion. "and you laid your hands on her," between every breath is a flare of nostrils and for a moment you can no longer recognise the man that you love. you've known him capable to be the most skillful rider and soldier of your generation but you've never known his capable to kill his own blood.

"yield," a pause. "or it will be a damn shame to kill my last living relative," his whisper is a solemn swear into the darkness as he counters any chance of xaden using his shadow signet- xaden should have known how exceptional his cousin is and it's a shame he had to find out through advanced hand to hand combat.

"no," xaden's voice is firm and you roll your eyes, wincing through the pain in an effort to stand- or rather sway.

"bodhi," you call out and he softens, relaxing slightly at the sight of you and its enough for xaden to break free. you are however quicker and aware of how dirty of a fighter xaden riorson is and chain him through ice glaciers to the wall.

bodhi dusts himself off like this ordeal was an inconvenience and meets you at your side as his cousin is half frozen into a wall. matching limps and bruises you really were soulmates. he uses his free arm to grip your waist and haul you against him, carrying most of your numbed weight. you slump against his frame gratefully, resting your head on his bruised shoulder.

"you were right xaden," you meet his betrayed gaze. "i disobeyed your order and violet sorrengail was hurt under my protection. i will die fighting for you and for our cause and i carry the burden you accepted for all of us marked ones. however, i am entitled to honour and respect- both of which sorrengail tested this morning."

xaden bows his head at your testament, tongue threatening to poke a hole through the skin of his cheek as he ponders his next words.

"i will gather violet's account and decide the next course of action. however, violet sorrengail is not to be touched," he reemphasises and grits out to the two of you.

a scoff leaves bodhi and he pulls you closer to him. "you keep your fucking hands to yourself riorson or next time you won't be so lucky," he promises and a small smile works its way onto your lips.

"come on," he mumbles into your hair with a soft slow kiss. "lets get you mended up," as you two limp away into the distance.

"wait," you pause, "maybe we should let him go," you think of xaden cuffed in ice and whatever ridiculous banishment he will sentence the two of you tomorrow. worst case, he never speaks to you again and you've lost your childhood friend for good. best case, he never speaks to you again and you'll never have to do the night shift of watching over violet sorrengail and bodhi will never have to do the drop offs again. you both could spend each day wrapped in eternal bliss and ugh it could be soooo good.

"nope," bodhi doesn't even grant xaden the grace of looking back. "let him suffer, stubborn ass."

"you know he'll never let this go right?" you meet his stormy gaze. the chocolate orbs soften gently as he stares at you in adoration. you've never felt more safer than in bodhi durran's existence.

"tough, because i'm never going to let you go," he returns. "but as hot as you are when you go batshit crazy, please leave violet looking a little more alive next time."

you react to his tease with a shove to his shoulder and he winces. it takes him less than a second to catch up to your stomping frame because the limp hurts a lot more in the aftermath and you need his strong hold to shift the weight but more importantly because there's no where you could be where bodhi durran isn't right at your side.

note: its one am and i miss my man, this one goes out to the losers who think bodhi is all soft and no edge. he is that guy !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! he can and will kill you !!!!!!!! he's survived wars with just a shoulder in a sling do not underestimate him !!!!!!

[pretenddisorder]

Home

Synopsis: Waking up in the middle of the night to you missing, Xaden finds more home than he could imagine in his own kitchen.

Tags: Fluff, domestic life, Xaden X Reader, Tyrrendor Week Day 2/3

WC: 2.5K

Thank you so much @empyreanevents for putting this week together :)

Waking up to echoes of clanging from deep in the Riorson house was not new for Xaden. Patrols happened at all hours, and the middle of the night was no exception. Despite the initial annoyance of a disturbed sleep, the noises were almost comforting, a reminder that he wasn’t alone in the huge house, an announcement that everyone had made it back from their flights safely.

Reaching over to pull you closer to him and finding your side of the bed empty and cold, however, was anything but. He shot up out of bed, eyes immediately adjusting to the dark and his need to scan the entire area. Your side of the bed had the covers laid down flat, no sign of a struggle out of them, which allowed a little bit of oxygen back into his lungs. Your flight jacket remained as it always did when not in use, hung up on a hook you installed while he was gone one day, a permanent addition of you into his house that, on a normal night not taken over by panic, would bring a smile to his face. Still analyzing, he found your boots lined up neatly next to where he had kicked his off after hours of meetings that day, worn down soles knocking into your smaller ones next to the door he was now up and moving toward. 

As his hand hit the handle, his gaze met the desk you had been occupying for hours at a time recently, also empty. Not just of you, but of all of the books that had been making themselves home on the surface all week and his own flight jacket that he had tossed onto the back of the chair. 

He opens the door, his shadows darting out and through the house before he does. They spread out, checking every possible area as Xaden looked for anything out of the ordinary. The top floor was pitch black, and each of the rooms were silent. He crept towards the stairs, eyes sweeping for any movement his shadows weren’t catching, and then he heard it. 

A yelp sounded from the kitchen, one that he could know from miles away to be yours, followed by an avalanche of clattering.

His own footsteps joined the horrific orchestra as he thundered down the steps to reach you. His heart beat louder with each one, roar in his ears from the panic drowning out any other sounds as he approached. He slid around the corner into the arch of the room, grabbing the stone wall to stop him before fully entering at what he saw. 

It was a warzone in there, but, thankfully, not the kind on the borders that he had anticipated with the panic in your previous yelp. All of the counters were covered in something, not a single ounce of space unoccupied. 

On the island, piles of flour surrounded different consistencies of dough in varying sizes and colors. A lumpy tan one was neighbors with a wheat like powder and a concerningly dry rock of mixture. Further down, the dough sections became smoother, but their colors began to vary, some more yellow and others…green? He noticed flecks in some and while others wore the color throughout the entire mound, all united in how they were rolled into palm shaped spheres.

Inside the fire pit alcove in the wall had a large stone pot.  He could hear sizzling from inside, hinting at more solid contents than the typical liquid the pot suggested. Flames danced up the side of the high gray walls and smoke hugged the space around it, yet not escaping the inside of the space, causing his head to tilt to the side and eyebrows to furrow in confusion at how. 

Looking at the pot closer, he could see looped etchings in the stone. Swirls of interlaced divots ran diagonally across it in connected, scratched knots. They were jagged and shallow at best, obviously etched by a novice, but still clear in their nature–old Tyrrish cooking runes he hadn’t seen since childhood. His eyes widened in surprise, looking above to see their inked form on paper taped above the alcove, edges jagged and ripped from the journal he had seen you hurriedly writing in all week. Beside them were more pages plastered to the next, all with the light penciling of your handwriting but too far to make out the words.

On the counter next to this lay more bowls than he knew the Riorson house even held, all filled with differing vegetables cut in different ways. Sweet potatoes were cut into discs in a clay pot adorning damp fingerprints against the red siding in the same spacings of your hands. In shallower bowls were a variety of different green herbs that he had seen with the dough, some fully powdered in black stone dishes and some with its individual leaves separated from thin stems in wooden saucers. Next to them, all uncut except for the darkest of the bunch, was probably every pepper ever grown on The Continent, he thought.

Beneath them, on the floor, is where Xaden finally found you. His flight jacket swallowed your form, its black leather covered in a light dusting of white on the sleeves. Your hair had been hastily managed, pushed back from your face but with pieces frizzing in every direction in the back. Sweat stuck the edges to the sides of your face and matted slightly with chunks of the green dough. One of your hands, dripping with water, was pressed up against a closed eye while the other was picking small round seeds off from where they had been stuck on your cheek. 

He kneels down on the floor next to you, dusting more flour off your forehead and smiling as your uncovered eye flickered over to him in surprise

“Why aren’t you asleep?” You ask, removing your hand from your eye and blinking a few times. It was red and irritated, but you could thankfully see fine now. 

“Heard some noise down here and you weren’t in bed. Had to make sure you were alright,” He brushed more hair from your face, getting a better look at you, “Why are you in the kitchen floor?”

You look away sheepishly, picking up the end of a pepper and a discarded knife that had clattered to the floor as you had. “I got pepper in my eye.”

He took the knife from your hands and stood to set it on the counter, pushed back out of reach. Taking your hand in his, he gently pulls you from the floor and rubs his hand down the side of your arm. 

“Why are you even anywhere near peppers right now? What are you doing down here?”

You drop your head in defeat, playing with your own fingers nervously. “It was supposed to be a surprise, but looks like I couldn’t get that right either.”

He takes your hands in his, stopping your fidgeting and getting you to look up at him. Slight concern covered his features, furrowing his brows and tightening his lips into a small frown. 

“What’re you talking about, love?”

You sigh, stepping back but keeping your hands in his to lead him around the kitchen as you talk. You start at the stove, gesturing to the pages. 

“You kept saying how it felt weird to be back here with things so different, so I wanted to try to do something that made it feel like it did back then.”

Finally close enough to see, he read all of the notes on the papers.

Each one held Tyrrish written in your own handwriting with rough translations underneath, copied from a recipe and then attempted to be put in words you understood. There were question marks taking up more spaces than words, whole words crossed out and rewritten on top of. Beside a few, he noticed familiar names, including his own.

“None of the recipes I found said what kind of pepper it was, just that there were peppers in it. And I’m not even sure if that is even true”

Looking down at the variety on the counter, he glanced back at the recipes above him. 

Imogen said spice here meant like seasoning, but down here it means like heat? Like peppers? She didn’t know what kind. Can’t believe I took her patrol shift for this. 

Stepping toward the dough, you look at the different pieces in disgust, picking the most promising candidate up in your free hand and holding it to Xaden like a science specimen. 

“Does this even look right? I remember you saying it was an herb dough, and I figured out that part, but nothing explains how the herb was in the dough.”

Confirmed with Bodhi and a few other readings that the herb is definitely basil, but he still didn’t know what “in the dough” meant? Is it like sprinkled on top? Chopped up in it? Or is it like, mainly herb and no flour? That can’t possibly be right. What about old recipes make them the perfect candidate for gatekeeping. 

Approaching the pot is when you sigh the loudest, breath making the smoke inside the alcove sway as it billows up. 

“And I ruined this pot with runes that only work half right. I’m sorry.”

He pulls you to him tightly, wrapping his arms fully around you and pressing your head into his chest as he reads the final note, heart warming up more than the fire in front of him. 

Xaden said the meat was his favorite part when he mentioned the dish in the dining hall last fall. Lamb for sure, and definitely smoked based off of all of the other customary preparations in everything else I’ve read. There’s no smokers around anywhere, but something about a rune? To add the smokey flavor? Guess I’ll have to man up and ask Cat to teach me the rune. FML, but it’s his favorite part and he’s my favorite, so Regina George it is

“It’s perfect,” he whispers softly into your hair. 

You pull back slightly to look up at him, scoffing slightly. “Don’t humor me. I didn’t even get halfway through the dish. There is no dish to be perfect. I couldn’t figure out what even goes in it, let alone how to–”

He dips down and slams his mouth on yours, shutting you up. He presses at the base of your back, melding you to him as he does, and cradling the back of your head softly despite the intensity of the kiss. You grab the sides of his waist for balance as he leans you back, deepening it before pulling back, smile evident in every part of his face. 

“It’s perfect,” He steals another kiss, brushing hair behind your ear and rubbing his thumb against your cheek. “You’re perfect.”

Your face heats up, blushing as you shove him playfully. He grabs your hand as you do, tugging you back to the island. 

“It means folded in.”

“What?”

He turns and grabs the bowl of basil leaves that have been chopped and a chunk of dough from the original mixture. Clearing an area from the cluttered space, he sets the two down and stands behind you. 

“The basil is folded into the dough.”

He grabs your arms from behind, leaning his chest in to your back and resting his chin on your shoulder as he guides your hand to the dough. He flattens it out into a rectangle, sprinkling the basil onto the layer before folding it into stacking layers. His voice rumbles through you as he speaks, soft tone making its home in your ears.

“The balling comes right before it's cooked.” He turns you to look at the spheres you had scattered all down the line. 

“Tyrrish recipes, especially ones originating in Aretia, explain preparation ingredient by ingredient instead of chronologically to help prevent waste of leftover parts,” He explains, one hand drifting from your arm to wrap around you and squeeze lightly as he presses a reassuring kiss to your temple. “That’s why you were having so much trouble figuring out what goes where. Recipes were more of a shopping list, in a way, while the making part was more of an oral process.”

Rotating in his grip again, you see him smiling faintly at the mess of a kitchen. His eyes were calm, nostalgic as they scanned the familiar bowls and ingredients interwoven with all things you. Your slippers were discarded next to the wooden trim of the kitchen where he had traced his fingers against the grooves impatiently waiting for dinner growing up. Next to the knives was your favorite pencil, one you had made him grab for you many times from the bottom of the bag that sat in his favorite stool by the breakfast nook.

And then you. In his arms, in his kitchen, smiling at him in a place where many had yelled. Filling a space that was frequently empty in later years, fending for himself as adults were busier and busier with plans and consequences. Here you were, decoding languages you didn’t understand and going out of your way to try everything to make a dish he mentioned once just to make him happy. Just for him. 

You press your lips to his, breaking him out of his thoughts. 

“Well then what’s the rest of the process? Tell me more, Chef.”

Xaden leads you around the kitchen as he explains each step of the dish, not breaking contact with you the whole time. Arm around your waist as he explains how you figure out which pepper to use when, hands jokingly covering your eyes as he cuts them, legs slotted between yours when he sits you down on the stool next to the alcove as you wait for the dish to finish cooking. 

He takes one out, blowing on it to cool before offering it to you. You take it from him, pulling it apart to observe the inside. You smile excitedly when you see the dough has cooked perfectly, holding the meat, peppers, and sweet potatoes roasted nicely inside. 

“It looks delicious,” You turn it out to face him, “Does it look right? Like you remember?”

He stares. His flight jacket has slid down your shoulder to expose one of his thread worn shirts you love to wear to sleep beneath it. Your eyes shine up at him, twinkling with the wave of the fire next to you. Your legs cage one of his to keep him close, and you hold the food, one he has been wanting again for years, out for him to have a bite first, always putting him first. 

“Yeah,” he says, looking right into your eyes. 

“Looks just like home.”

[dreamdragonkadia]

A/n; I want Xaden kisses. This man is just so so fine

The "You're Mine" Kiss

It’s not subtle. Never with Xaden. He doesn’t ask; he declares. These kisses usually come when someone’s pushed his buttons, stirring that fierce, protective side of him—or when he’s feeling the slightest flicker of jealousy. Whether it’s a lingering glance from someone else, a whispered comment he doesn’t like, or your casual flirtation with danger, his reaction is immediate.

Xaden’s hand curls around the back of your neck, his fingers threading into your hair, while his thumb presses lightly against your pulse. It’s deliberate, as if he’s savoring the way your heartbeat quickens under his touch. His other hand finds your waist, holding you firm, anchoring you to him.

When his lips crash against yours, it’s not a question—it’s an answer. There’s nothing tentative about the way he kisses you. It’s fierce, unapologetic, and possessive, the kind of kiss that takes and keeps, like he’s trying to carve his name into your very soul. His tongue brushes against yours in a commanding and relentless way, until the world fades into the heat of his touch and the fire of his kiss.

When he finally pulls away, your lips are swollen, your breath uneven, and yet he still doesn’t move back, his forehead resting against yours. His dark eyes lock onto yours, smoldering with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. His voice is low, roughened by the kiss, as he mutters against your lips, "Don’t forget it."

The Silent Apology Kiss

Xaden doesn’t stumble over apologies. He is honest—sometimes brutally so—and he rarely sugarcoats his words. It’s just who he is. But that honesty cuts both ways, and when his temper gets the better of him, the feeling of his regret is visible in the aftermath.

He doesn’t apologize right away. Instead, he clutches his fists tight enough that his knuckles turn white, jaw set in frustration, and leaves the room to cool off. It’s not anger at you—it’s at himself.

Later, when the quiet stretches too long and the sharp edges of the fight haven’t dulled, he finds you. You’re sitting alone, arms wrapped around yourself, the anger still coiled between you like a living thing. Xaden pauses in the doorway for a moment, as though gathering the resolve to step closer.

When he does, he doesn’t say a word. He crosses the room with quiet stubbornness, his shadow stretching long across the floor. Without hesitation, he kneels in front of you, his dark eyes meeting yours, raw and unguarded, willing you to see his apology. His hand moves to your chin, tilting your face toward him with a touch so gentle it almost breaks you.

Then his lips press to your forehead—warm, steady, and conscious. The kiss lingers, longer than normal, like he’s trying to say everything he can’t put into words. You feel his breath against your skin, the slight tremor in his exhale, and the unspoken apology that hums in the quiet between you.

When he pulls back, staring into your eyes, his fingers still resting lightly against your jaw. “I shouldn’t have snapped,” he finally mutters.

But you both know the words aren’t necessary. The kiss already said it all.

The Teasing Peck

These are the kisses that catch you off guard, the ones that leave your thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind. It’s usually when you’re rambling, your mind spiraling in a dozen directions while you pace the room, oblivious to his gaze. Xaden leans lazily against a doorframe, arms crossed, his infuriatingly smug grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

He doesn’t interrupt—yet. He’s watching you, his eyes following the gestures of your hands as you emphasize your points, but you’re too focused to notice the way his thoughts wander. He’s imagining you in ways he probably shouldn’t: sprawled beneath him, lips swollen from his kisses, cheeks flushed as you—

“Xaden, are you even listening to me?” you snap, finally noticing the far-off gleam in his eyes.

He doesn’t answer. He just steps forward, closing the space between you with ease. His hand grabs yours, the roughness of his fingers distracting you for a split second before he dips down and presses the quickest of kisses to your lips.

It’s fleeting—barely more than a brush—but the warmth lingers, and before you can even process it, he’s pulling back. You’re frozen mid-sentence, the words catching in your throat as you gape at him, completely derailed.

His smirk deepens, satisfaction rolling off him in waves. His eyes glitter with amusement as he says, “I am now.”

Then he steps back, leaving you standing there while he saunters away like he hasn’t just turned your entire train of thought into a pile of rubble.

The "I’m Proud of You" Kiss

Xaden’s praise is rare, which makes these moments all the more significant. He’s not the type to toss around compliments lightly—they’re earned, and when he gives them, you know they’re sincere. It’s after you’ve done something he didn’t expect—holding your ground in a heated argument, outmaneuvering him in a sparring match, or catching him off guard by being a step ahead of his usually unshakable intuition.

He won’t show his admiration immediately when there are other eyes watching or more pressing matters at hand. That’s not his style, particularly when serious things are going down. But once the adrenaline fades and it’s just the two of you, that’s when you see it.

The moment comes quietly. His hands finding your waist with a confidence that feels like second nature. His touch is familiar yet tender, like all he wants in that moment is to hold you, to ground himself in you. His gaze softens, the hard edges of his usual intensity melting into something gentler, more vulnerable.

“You amaze me, you know that?” he says, his voice intimate, meant only for you.

There’s no smirk this time, no teasing gleam in his eyes—just quiet reverence as his lips find yours. The kiss is slow, unhurried, and meaningful, carrying none of the urgency or fire you might expect from him after a meeting. Instead, it’s full of something deeper, something that speaks volumes more than words ever could.

His hands tighten slightly at your waist, pulling you just a fraction closer, as though to keep you in the moment. It’s not about heat or desire; it’s about acknowledgment, admiration, and the way he sees you as someone who continually surprises him, challenges him, and is there for him.

When he pulls back, he lets out a soft exhale, as though saying the words aloud was as much for him as it was for you. The corner of his mouth lifts in a faint smile, his thumb brushing over your side as he adds, “I love you.”

The Protective Kiss

These kisses come when fear shadows his features—something you rarely see. Xaden seems unshakable, the rock in any storm, but when it’s you, when it’s your life that’s been on the line, that unyielding façade cracks.

It might be after a battle, when the adrenaline is still coursing through his veins and the memory of you being too close to danger burns fresh in his mind. Or maybe it’s in the quiet aftermath of a dangerous mission, when the reality of what could have happened finally catches up with him.

His hands are on you before you can even speak, his grip hard, almost bruising, as they settle on your arms. His dark eyes sweep over you, searching for any sign of injury, his jaw clenched so tightly it looks like it might snap. It’s as if he’s trying to convince himself that you’re really here, whole and unbroken, standing in front of him.

He doesn’t say a word—he can’t, not yet. Instead, he leans in, his lips finding yours with a desperation that borders on frantic. The kiss is desperate, unrelenting, like he’s trying to breathe you in, to memorize the feel of you against him. There’s nothing soft or measured about it; it’s raw, primal, and filled with the kind of fear that only comes from almost losing the one thing that matters most.

His hands slide down to your waist, his fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt as though he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go.

His voice, when it comes, is low and hoarse, laced with an edge of anger that’s born entirely of fear. “Don’t you ever do that to me again,” he murmurs, the words both a command and a plea.

You can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw tightens even further as he pulls you into his chest, holding you close like he needs to feel your heartbeat to steady his own. And in that moment, you realize just how much power you hold over him���and how much he’d risk to keep you safe.

The Slow-Burn Kiss

This kiss doesn’t start with lips; it starts with a look. A glance that’s lingered far too long, one of those smoldering gazes that sets your pulse racing and makes the room feel suddenly too warm. Xaden’s been giving you that look all day—subtle, deliberate, the kind that curls low in your stomach and leaves you wondering if he’s toying with you or if he’s just biding his time.

It’s not just the look, either. It’s the small touches: his hand brushing yours as he hands you something, his fingertips ghosting over your lower back as he passes by, the way his thumb lingers a fraction too long when he presses it to your cheek. And yet, somehow, he’s avoided your lips. He’s kissed your forehead in the early morning light, his lips soft and fleeting, and later, he brought your hand to his mouth, his eyes never leaving yours as he pressed a kiss to your knuckles. But your lips? Not once.

It’s a game, you realize—a maddeningly obvious one. He’s drawing it out, savoring your growing impatience with the kind of quiet control that only makes you want him more.

When he finally moves, it’s with an intended slowness that feels like it’s meant to unnerve you. He steps closer, his presence overwhelming, and the space between you vanishes until he’s right there. His hand comes up, his fingertips tracing the line of your jaw, his touch impossibly soft.

He leans in, his breath warm against your skin, and for a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you. But his lips brush against yours so lightly it feels more like a question than an answer, a whisper of what’s to come. It’s intentional—teasing, torturous—like he’s testing your patience, drawing out the moment until it stretches impossibly thin.

And then, finally, when you tilt your head and close the gap, he lets you have it. His lips press to yours, a kiss that’s all-consuming without ever feeling rushed. His hands slide around your waist, pulling you flush against him, and the world around you fades until there’s nothing left but him—the warmth of his touch, the steadiness of his breath, and the unspoken promise that this moment is entirely yours.

It’s not just a kiss; it’s a claiming, a vow in its own right. And you can’t help but wonder how you ever managed to breathe without him.