(Photos courtesy of Pinterest)
Summary: Momemts with Bodhi.
Authors Note: A continuation of my ‘moments’ series and as also specifically requested. No warnings below, just our sweet fluffy Bodhi. Not in particular order or canon, just mundane little moments.
The courtyard at Basgiath is a mess of noise and motion — riders coming and going, dragons shifting overhead, first-years scattering like startled birds.
Bodhi is only half paying attention.
He’s leant against a pillar with Imogen and Violet, pretending to listen while actually scanning every face that passes through the gates like he’s been doing for the last hour.
He doesn’t know how he’s going to cope when you both graduate.
“…You’re not even pretending to be subtle,” Imogen says dryly.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bodhi replies, immediately craning his neck again.
Violet smiles, soft and knowing. “You know they say a watched pot never boils.”
He opens his mouth to reply—
The voice cuts through the courtyard like a blade.
You’re weaving through the crowd at a dead run, laughing, hair half-fallen out of its usual elegant up-do, flight googles still swinging around your neck, eyes locked on him like nothing else exists.
Bodhi barely has time to catch you before you’re colliding with him, arms wrapped around his neck, legs wrapping around his waist like you were always meant to be there.
He catches you on instinct, laughing as the force of you almost knocks him backwards.
“You’re back,” he breathes, like by saying it aloud he can finally start to believe it.
“I’m back!” You laugh, forehead bumping against his. “Gods, I missed you.”
He spins you once without thinking, both of you laughing like idiots in the middle of the courtyard.
“I missed you,” he says, grinning so hard his face is starting to hurt.
“You did?” You beam at him.
“You’re ridiculous, of course I did.”
The words come out easy. Natural. Like they’ve been waiting.
You kiss him — quick and bright and completely unconcerned with the audience.
Somewhere behind you, Imogen makes a gagging noise. “I’m happy for you, but this is disgusting.”
Bodhi presses his forehead to yours, still holding you up like he has no intention of putting you down. “Two weeks,” he says. “Never doing that again.”
You laugh. “You say that now.”
“I mean it,” he says. “I was this close to flying to Aretia and pretending there was a family emergency or something.”
“You didn’t,” you mock gasp — knowing Bodhi, he definitely did.
“It’s been unbearable,” he says, stealing another kiss.
“This is unbearable,” Imogen grumbles.
Neither of you hear her though, too wrapped up in each other and your reunion to notice.
Eventually, he sets you down, but his hands stay firmly on you.
“Home is wherever you are, remember?”
Bodhi squeezes your hand.
And for the first time in two weeks, everything feels exactly where it’s supposed to be.
You wake up to the smallest thing.
At first your eyes flicker open, pitch black greeting you, no obvious signs of what had pulled you from your slumber present in the room.
Bodhi is pressed warm and solid against your back, one arm around your waist, the other tucked under your pillow. He always sleeps like this — like he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go.
It was sweet. You always relished in his affection even when he was unconscious.
Your eyes closed, sleep trying to take you again.
But suddenly, Bodhi tenses. A twitch in his arm. His breath coming too fast, too shallow.
“—no,” he whispers, barely audible.
Your eyes snap open, sleep now forgotten.
You turn carefully in his arms, just enough to look at him. His brow is furrowed, jaw tight, lashes suspiciously damp. His grip on you tightens like he’s trying to anchor himself to something.
It’s clear he was having a nightmare.
“Bodhi,” you murmur softly. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. Wake up.”
His breathing stutters. His leg twitches where it’s twined with yours.
“Bodhi,” you say again, a little firmer, turning to face him fully now. You cup his cheek, thumb brushing gently under his eye. “Wake up, love.”
He startles awake with a sharp breath, eyes flying open, disoriented and wild for a second.
His hands come up to grip your arms like he’s making sure you’re real.
“You’re okay,” you say immediately. “I’m here. You’re in bed. You’re at Basgiath. You’re safe.”
He swallows hard, breath still uneven. “I—I know. I just—“
You pull him into you without a word, his body automatically curling into you so his head rested on your shoulder. You wrap your arms around him, one hand sliding up and down his back in slow, steady strokes.
“It’s okay,” you whisper. “I’ve got you.”
He clings to you for a moment, breathing you in like he’s trying to re-anchor himself to the present.
After a while, his breathing evens out.
“I’m sorry I woke you,” he says quietly.
“I don’t mind,” you say immediately. “Never.”
Silence stretches, soft and safe.
You don’t ask. You just wait.
“It was about the apostasy,” he says very quietly.
“My parents,” he adds, like he says it out loud to make it real. “The night they…when everything went wrong.”
You squeeze him tighter, before releasing him, wiggling down the bed slightly so you’re face to face, brushing your nose against his. Your hand comes into cradle the back of his head, fingers threading lightly through his hair.
“I’m so sorry,” you whisper.
“I was watching it all over again,” he says. “And I couldn’t get to them. No matter how fast I ran.”
His eyes shine even in the darkness. “It makes me feel so helpless.”
You press a slow, gentle kiss to his forehead.
“You’re not there anymore,” you say. “You survived. You’re here. You’re with me.”
He closes his eyes, leaning into your touch, burying his head into the crook of your neck again.
You feel him mumble something, his lips brushing against the bare skin of you collarbone. It’s too quiet to hear exactly what he says, but you have a hunch.
“I’m not going anywhere,” you say, kissing his forehead.
He exhales, long and shaky, and pulls back, only to instead pull you into his arms, this time holding you like you’re something precious he doesn’t want to lose.
You tuck yourself into his chest, listening to his heartbeat slowly settle.
After a minute, he presses a kiss into your hair.
“For being here,” he says simply.
You smile into his chest. “You couldn’t get rid of me even if you tried.”
He huffs a laugh, arms tightening around you.
And this time, when he falls back asleep it’s finally peaceful.
And he doesn’t let go of you once.
Professor Carr doesn’t believe in mercy.
You either hone your signet, or you die trying.
You’re already shaking. Fingers cramping. Head pounding from concentrating for so long.
Sweat runs down your spine, your vision blurring at the edges, the familiar, dangerous heat of your signet roaring too close to the surface. The air around you hums and vibrates, like it’s waiting for you to lose control.
No more, you are hurting yourself, your dragon warns. You can feel her worry and restlessness through the bond. She’d already threatened to eat Carr twice if you just said the words.
“I can do it,” you say aloud, insistent, despite the fact your knees feel like they might give out.
Professor Carr raises an eyebrow expectantly. “If you can’t hold your power, you don’t deserve to wield it.”
You hear your dragon’s snarl in your head.
You reach for your signet again, cracking open the door to your dragon’s power to allow a slither through.
You’re not strong enough to close the door this time though.
Power floods through you. Too fast. Too strong.
Heat floods your veins, your chest, your head.
Bodhi freezes as Cuir’s voice suddenly enters his mind.
Xaden pauses across from him, practice blade still raised to attack, confused as to his sudden change in demeanour.
They are burning out. You must hurry. Now.
He drops his sword and turns on his heel, already running.
“Bodhi!” Xaden calls. “What the hell—!”
Bodhi doesn’t even reply. He knew you had a session with Professor Carr today. He knew exactly where you’d be.
He sprints down the halls.
He bursts into Professor Carr’s classroom only minutes after Cuir’s summons.
Your body is curled up on itself on the stone floor, heat radiating off you in visible waves. The air is stifling, warped, like the space around you is bending.
Your skin is burning to the touch.
His eyes flicker to where Carr simply sits at his desk, looking almost bored.
He doesn’t wait for permission.
He’s at your side in an instant, dropping to his knees, gathering you in his arms like you weigh nothing.
“Hey. Hey, I’ve got you,” he says urgently, one hand cradling your head, the other pressed to your back. “I’m here. You’re okay. You’re okay.”
You’re barely conscious, skin flushed, breathing shallow.
“Too—much,” you whisper, barely there. “I can’t—stop it—“
“I know,” he says, voice breaking. “I know. I’ve got you.”
He closes his eyes and reaches for his own signet.
Cool, steady power pours out of him, wrapping around you like a winter tide — countering the heat, dragging your power back from the edge.
“Close it. You can do it, baby,” Bodhi encourages you.
You push with all your might. The door swings shut.
“You could’ve killed her,” a voice snarls behind Bodhi. He should’ve known Xaden would follow him.
Bodhi doesn’t look up, doesn’t even attempt to throttle Carr like he so desperately wants to. He’s too busy holding you, one hand tangled in your hair, forehead resting against yours.
“Hey, stay with me,” he murmurs. “I’m here now. You’re safe.”
You whimper slightly as your eyes flicker open, instantly meeting his. “You came.”
Bodhi huffs a shaky breath that’s half a laugh, half a sob. “Of course I did. I’ll always come when you call.”
You manage a weak smile in gratitude.
He lifts you carefully into his arms, like you’re made of glass.
“We’re done here,” Bodhi says flatly to Carr.
As Bodhi carries you out, he keeps whispering to you— soft, steady, trying to ground you back in reality.
“I’ve got you. You’re safe. You’re never burning out on my watch. Never.”
And even half-conscious, wrapped in his arms, you know he means it.
Bodhi would always be there to bring you back from the brink.
You’d never felt so safe.
The Archives have become your second home.
Stacks of books surround you like a paper fortress, notes scattered everywhere, different tomes all open in front of you as you cross-checked, wrote notes and dissected the ancient information contained within the texts.
Still no mention of how to imbue a ward stone.
You rub your eyes tiredly and sigh. “There has to be something helpful in these somewhere…”.
“You’ve been saying that for three days,” Bodhi’s voice reappears suddenly behind you.
You don’t look up. “And I’ll keep saying it until I find it.”
He drops into the chair next to you and sighs heavily. He was getting worried about you. You were stressed, exhausted, both physically and mentally. You both were truthfully, the looming threat of what could happen to Aretia if you couldn’t find a way to—
Now was not the time to let his thoughts spiral.
He glances over at you, noting the crease between your brows, the tension in your shoulders, the anxious tapping of your foot as you slammed another book shut.
You desperately needed a break. He desperately needed you. It had been days since you’d spent any quality time together. But he had a feeling getting you to agree to have a break would be just as difficult as this seemingly impossible task Violet had set you to.
He pokes your side to try and get your attention.
He whines your name, before he gently tugs on a loose strand of your hair and begins to twirl it around his finger.
“You need a break. I missed you,” he says, unapologetic.
“You’ve been right here,” he says, “but not here.” He taps your forehead lightly.
You try very hard to stay focused on the text in front of you.
He leans in and presses a kiss to the side of your neck.
He hums. “You smell like books and stress.”
He presses another kiss, then another, feather-light. “When was the last time you slept? Or ate? Or even acknowledged my existence?”
You underline a sentence a little too hard. “I acknowledged you this morning.”
“You said ‘move, you’re in my light’”.
“That is acknowledgement.”
He sighs dramatically and slumps halfway across the table. “You love me less than ancient dragon books.”
“That is slander,” you say, still not looking at him. “I love you equally to the ancient dragon books.”
He gasps. “Unbelievable.”
His finger starts tracing idle patterns on your wrist.
You snap the book you were hunched over shut.
He freezes, watching you with wide, innocent eyes.
You turn slowly to finally face him. “Bodhi, I need to get this finished. It’s important,” you begin to explain. “If you sit quietly and let me finish this section…”
His eyes brighten. “…Yes?”
“…I will take you back to my room and do things to you that will make you forget your own name.”
The effect is instantaneous.
He sits up, perfectly straight.
He stares straight ahead. “I am the picture of discipline and obedience.”
You snort. “Is that all it takes?”
“I am a simple man with clear priorities.”
You go back to your book, smiling.
For a full five minutes, he doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Doesn’t breathe too loudly.
Then he glances at you. “Are you close?”
He nods solemnly and returns to his statue impression.
You manage another ten minutes of actual work before you close the book with a satisfied sigh.
You stand and start packing up your notes. “Done.”
He’s on his feet instantly. “I have never been more supportive of academic excellence in my life.”
You laugh, shaking your head, taking his hand and leading him towards the exit.
The Archives can keep their secrets for another night.
You wake up to the feeling of being watched.
You blink blearily and roll onto your side, only to find Bodhi sitting on the edge of your bed, already dressed, hair still a little damp and messy from his shower, hands tucked behind his back like he’s hiding something.
He’d clearly been up for hours judging from the enthusiasm radiating from him and the fact that his side of the bed was stone cold.
He was looking at you with a strange look in his eyes.
“…Why are you staring at me like that?” You mumble.
He snorts. “Good morning to you too. Or should I say afternoon.”
“Well put it this way, if you get up now you’ll make it in time for lunch.”
You squint at him, playfully spearing him with a scowl. “It’s my day off, I can spend it how I like.”
He chuckles, affectionately leaning forward and tucking some of your messy bed hair behind your ear.
You eye the singular arm he still keeps behind his back and raise a pointed eyebrow at him. “What are you hiding back there?”
He shifts, suddenly a little nervous, which is rare for him, especially around you.
“I,uh,” he says. “I made you something.”
Your heart does a small, traitorous little flip. “You made me something?”
He brings his hand forward and holds it out.
Soft, dark leather, wound neatly and secured with a small clasp. Worked into the front are two tiny metal letters — your first initial and his — twined together like they belong that way.
For a second, you just stare at it.
Your brain still trying to wake up from its twelve hour slumber and also trying to comprehend the sweet gesture being presented to you out of the blue.
“…Bodhi,” you say quietly. “What’s this for?”
He clears his throat before shrugging a little sheepishly. “Just because.”
Your chest feels full and tight all at once.
“Yeah,” he says. “I’ve been helping Xaden with Violet’s harness and realised I…had some leftover leather. So I thought—“ He stops and then adds, softer. “I wanted you to have something that was…mine. From me. That you could keep. Even if we’re not always in the same place.”
The last part lands hard and gently all at once.
You sit up and take it from him, running your thumbs over the letters. “It’s beautiful.”
He relaxes a fraction at that. “Good. I was worried it looked a little crooked.”
You hold out your wrist. “Put it on for me?”
His fingers are careful as he fastens it, like he’s aware he’s tying something more than just a leather bracelet around your wrist.
“There,” he says quietly.
He raises your wrist and presses a gentle kiss against the clasp, his lips grazing against your skin.
You swallow to keep your emotions at bay.
You look at it again, touched beyond words that he had thought of you enough and taken the time to craft something for you.
You lean forward to thank him and kiss him — slow, grateful and tender.
“Who’d of thought Bodhi Durran could be so romantic,” you murmur.
He chuckles. “Don’t spread that around. I have a reputation.”
You rest your forehead against his. “I’ll wear it every day.”
His smile is beaming. “Good. That was the plan.”
You try to tug him down on the bed with you. “Now come back to bed.”
Then he reaches out and pokes you side. “Up.”
“What? No. Come lay with me.”
“You skipped dinner last night,” he says. “And you’ve missed breakfast.”
“You were being irresponsible.”
You narrow your eyes playfully at him. “You just want everyone to see me with your bracelet on.”
“Maybe,” he smirks. “Now come on.”
You groan and flop back onto the pillow. “It’s too early to be functional.”
“It’s the afternoon.” He takes your hand and tugs you upright. “I’m not letting my favourite person run on fumes.”
You look down at the bracelet, then back up at him. “You can’t give me a heartfelt gift and then immediately become a tyrant.”
You laugh as he pulls you to your feet. “Can I at least have a coffee?”
Bodhi makes a contemplative noise as he brings you a pair of trousers and your boots to you.
He pretends to consider it. “Only if you promise to eat something proper first.”
You sigh dramatically. “You’re lucky I love you.”
“I know,” he says, leaning in and pecking your nose.
A few minutes later, with his hand firmly around yours, he guides you through the halls. Your heart and wrist feels warm—
Not just from the leather. But from what it means.
That Bodhi Durran is completely devoted to you and wants everyone to know it.
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