Summary: Xaden was notorious for being emotionally unavailable during his years at Basgiath, perhaps it was because he had someone waiting for him at home.
Content Warnings: Third person POV, use of Y/N, cursing
Author's Notes: Little french lesson in this one, I adore the phrase tu me manques so I'm adding it in here. I know that french isn't technically a spoken language there but just pretend, please. Also, don't ask me how this fits in with the canonical timeline, it doesn't so bear with me. This is just some fluff that I really enjoyed writing!
(1.2k words)
Anticipation coiled deep in Xaden’s gut as Sgaeyl sailed through the chillier sky towards Tyrrendor.
It has been three years.
Three years since he’d entered the Rider’s Quadrant, three years since he’d actually, truely, relaxed, three years since he’d seen her.
His heart stupidly jumped when he thought of her.
The light waiting for him at home. The north his soul’s compass would always point towards.
His fiancé.
After the apostasy, Xaden had struck the deal to trade his happiness for the happiness of the 107 children he was responsible for.
As a symbol of alliance and peace, he had agreed to marry Y/N L/N, second in line for the duchy of Morraine.
She was an innocent, a pawn in a game that was much bigger than herself.
Xaden had felt pity for her when he initially agreed to the king’s terms, but he couldn’t let 107 children die because of his defiance.
He’d expected her to be a meek thing, raised in luxury in being royalty but never feeling responsibility.
He’d been wrong.
She has bright, but not ignorant — auspicious, but humble. And she certainly wasn’t afraid of him enough to show him that.
“I’m stronger that you think, Your Grace,” she teased.
“I don’t doubt it, Duchess,” he’d replied.
She smiled, and from then on Xaden knew, he was screwed.
The ground shook under Sgaeyl’s talons, pulling Xaden out of his thoughts.
The textbooks called Riorson House a fortress, an ingenious design meant to survive war. Xaden called it home. Even after the duchy of Tyrrendor was moved from the House of Riorson to the House of Lewellen, Xaden still managed to keep the house, which was a win in his books.
He quickly ascended the stairs and nodded at the guards stationed at the large iron doors, his mind going insane in anticipation.
The main hallway was empty besides the few servants scurrying about. They each paused and bowed to Xaden before returning to their tasks.
And when Xaden’s gaze reached to the top of the grand staircase on the left, everything around him… stopped.
There, in all of her angelic glory was his world.
Y/N was talking to the head of staff, gesturing above her to one of the four floors overhead.
Gods, she looked… beautiful.
She was wearing a plain white dress with a translucent skirt and a corset with metal details — at her hip was a gleaming sword of steel, making her look like a warrior princess.
Lady of the house, actually.
Every time he looked at her, Xaden always thought that Y/N deserved better than the life he’d been forced to offer her. Being reduced from an heiress from a respectable line to engaged to someone whose reputation was anything but respectable.
“The only opinion I care about is my own, yours and our friends,” Xaden could practically hear her voice in his head. “Everyone else can fuck themselves.”
And fuck him when her eyes finally met his at the bottom of the stairs.
There were plenty of rare and expensive things decorating the hall and yet Xaden would trade all of them and so much more just to see those eyes filled with utter adoration for the rest of his life.
The window behind her cast a golden glow, capturing her silhouette as she dropped the conversation she was having and immediately started sprinting down the stairs.
She didn’t even bother to make it down the last few steps, only jumping forwards with her arms extended.
Xaden caught her easily, looping one arm around her waist and the other nestled in her hair.
Both of her arms wrapped around his neck and her thighs clung to his midsection.
They both didn’t need to say anything, already knowing all of the words that were caught in their throats.
I missed you. I love you.
Xaden heard the tiniest laugh and his knees almost gave out. Gods, how he’d missed that sound.
Waking up to it, going to bed knowing he’ll hear it for the rest of his life.
His happiness, his existence was summed up into this woman. This gorgeous, breathtaking, ethereal woman.
They stayed like that for several minutes, cherishing their time together after too many years apart.
“Tu me manques,” she whispered.
He chuckled in wonder.
Tu me manques. The dictionary definition being: “I missed you,” but the literal translation being: “You were missing from me.”
And that was exactly how he felt. There was a hole in his life when she wasn’t there — a gap in the silence, a presence missing from the room only she could fill.
“Tu me manques,” he echoed.
She pulled away from where her face was tucked into his shoulder so that they were face to face.
Xaden’s heart cracked with emotion when he saw the tears flowing down her cheeks.
The hand that was cradling the back of her head instantly went to brush away her tears.
She laughed, trying to ease the tension but it turned into a sob.
“Don’t cry for me, Duchess,” Xaden murmured. “I’m hardly someone anyone would waste their tears on.”
“You can hardly blame me, Your Grace,” she replied. “Your presence was missed.”
Xaden felt her slipping against his body and moved the arm wrapped around her waist to under her thighs, not wanting to let go just yet.
“Tell me everything,” Y/N whispered.
He walked forward and sat on the steps of the grand staircase, readjusting his grip on her so that she was sitting on his lap facing him.
He launched into a somewhat condensed story of his time at Basgiath, from Parapet to Presentation to Threshing and War Games.
Y/N listened attentively, her nose scrunching distastefully when Xaden talked about Alic Tauri and she laughed when he told her about Sgaeyl’s comments about Dain Aetos.
They were so focused on each other they didn’t notice Garrick, Bodhi, Imogen and Violet entering the house.
Violet’s gaze zeroed in on the woman perched on Xaden’s lap, she looked luminous, throwing her head back and laughing at something he said. Xaden just stared at her with a look in his eyes that every hopeless romantic yearned for.
“Who’s she?” Violet asked Imogen.
“Y/N L/N,” Imogen replied. “Second in line for the Morraine throne, lady of the house and Xaden’s fiancé.”
Violet did a double take. “I didn’t know Xaden had a fiancé.”
“It was a deal he had made with the king. If Xaden married Y/N, Tauri wouldn’t kill us all. Your mom suggested we be enrolled at Basgiath instead.” Imogen explained. “She’s been the one in charge of rebuilding Aretia while Xaden was gone.”
“She’s doing a great job, too.” Garrick joined in. “Did you see the neighborhoods?”
Violet remembered, flying above the capital and seeing the construction. “They were building schools, and libraries.”
“Classic Y/N, of course that’s what she’d focus on first after the houses.” Bodhi chuckled.
Violet glanced back towards the couple.
The two were kissing on the steps, the sun illuminating them like they were something holy to be captured in paint.
His hands were holding her like she was something to be cherished with every breath, worshipped one whisper at a time.
She kissed him like he was salvation, someone she would die for but also live for and with, wholly and beautifully, forever without complaint.
And when they weren’t together, heaven and hell would move themselves because it was an injustice of the universe if two souls like theirs weren’t anything but fated together.
I’m also having trouble thinking of a specific scene😅 but maybe a miscommunication trope? I’m a sucker for angst resolved with fluff haha
ᴅᴇꜱᴛɪɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ | x. ʀɪᴏʀꜱᴏɴ
summary: She has been his most trusted friend for two decades. And suddenly, it was all gone.
word count: 4k
warnings: angst, miscommunication/misunderstanding, Xaden being a simp for his woman, Violet being the friend here, longing, pining for one another, basically two idiots in love, kissing, the mere allusion to smutty town (but really PG6), love confessions, fluffy ending, not entirely 100% proofread
author’s note: Gosh, I love Xaden so much. Have fun with this one <3 Dividers are by @chrisssiren
“YNN!”
No, No, No.
The woman sighed deeply at the achingly familiar voice of him, focusing back on the task of lacing her leather corset on the way to the flying field. The wing leader meeting had run overtime—gods only knew why, because no one had contributed anything substantial at all amidst the shouting and insults—and she would have definitely turned up late to formations if she had chosen to get changed in her room after one of the corset strings had decided to ruin her already stressful morning even further by tearing right in the middle of the meeting.
“Gods damn it, YNN! Hold on.”
YN would prefer to fall off her dragon’s back and crash-land on the ground after a hundred-meter fall than wait for him, only to get told even more lies and half-truths. She was done with it.
Tying the strings close and tucking them securely out of reach before closing the numerous clasps of her flight jacket, YNN didn’t even throw a glance over her shoulder when she answered: “I am late as it is, Riorson, so don’t mind me not stopping for a little chitchat to sooth your bruised ego.”
Because that’s what it was, wasn’t it? He only ever came running back to her when she turned a cold shoulder to him. She had probably chosen Aetos over Xaden again, and now he was angry, defeated, and in desperate need of her company. Yes, YN definitely had obliged in the beginning, thinking nothing of it, but then she had seen the chemistry between them, the kiss in the darkness of night, and she couldn’t do it any longer.
Not when her heart ached like hellfire at the mere thought of these two together.
But why was she even surprised? Sure, they had known each other since the day of their first wobbly steps, falling over each other, and yes, her mother had been the closest companion of his father, but why would someone like Xaden Riorson fall in love with someone like her? She was nothing like Violet Sorrengail—she wasn’t petite, she wasn’t as pretty, she didn’t have hair that mesmerizing. YN was a hell of a fighter and dragon rider; she knew that because she had been named wing leader right after her first year, she was good academically, and still, she was no Sorrengail. All she had to her name was ashes of a past she was supposed to never speak of again, scars littering her body, and a rebel relic widening its way from her shoulder down to her wrist.
Be happy with what you got, a voice in her mind whispered the moment shadowy smoke entered her periphery and wrapped itself around her lower arm, making her stop right in front of the rounded staircase.
Anger and something else made their presence known when she turned to Xaden, halting a few steps in front of her. “I don’t have a bruised ego, I just want to walk to the flight field with my best friend after she has ignored me for the past week,” the man defended himself, making the woman huff out a laugh. “Yeah, sure thing. The same best friend who you casually always forget as soon as she’s in the room, but sure, let’s run with that sorry excuse of a reason.” YN pointed at the shadow still clinging to her arm. “Do you mind? I really am late, and I can’t stand to hear another quip of dear ol’ Aetos.”
He stared down at her as if she spoke a different language. “Actually, I do mind.” With that, the shadow was exchanged for his strong hand, long fingers wrapping tightly around her arm to pull her into him. “I do mind because you are my fucking best friend and you avoid me like the fucking plague ever since…” She stared right back at him, not flinching in the slightest, like everyone else always seemed to do in the line of his cold stares. They had never intimidated her because she knew him. “Ever since what, Xaden? Spit it out and be done with it.”
YN had never told a soul about her feelings for her best friend—minus a drunken night with Sloane and Liam, but neither her baby sister nor her little brother would ever spill her longest kept secret—but had she been subtle about it? Probably not. At this point, the entire school could easily know about the lingering stares she had discreetly thrown across the training mats, or the burning stares of a slighted dragon whenever Xaden dared to show up with Violet practically hanging off his arm. She never had something against the woman in the first place—she almost seemed nice enough to like—but all that changed with that blasted kiss she had watched only because she had been in the library longer than planned.
Xaden leaned even closer, lowering his head almost to her eye level. “Ever since Violet arrived and I kissed her.” His words were quiet, but still, they ram through her like a dragon in full speed. And it made her so fucking mad that he was right.
She took a deep, steadying breath to quell the anger boiling inside her. “Go and be with her, but leave me out of it once and for all. We had a great friendship, but childish things have to die in here—that is the rule of Basgiath. Don’t come running back to me whenever it pleases you, never thinking about me and what it might do to me, how it might hurt to realize I am only of interest or a fancy toy newly found after losing it when she doesn’t want you. I am done with it, Xaden. I am so done with it. Go be happy or whatever you are with her and let me survive this death sentence of a school on my own.”
With that, she ripped her arm out of his grasp, turned on the spot, and left a stunned Xaden behind as she finally made her way down the stairs, through the walkway, and up to the flight field.
You are stronger than you might think, fiery one, her dragon spoke in her mind, reminding her of his presence and trust in her. Who needed a man when one had the largest of the reds as their bonded dragon, anyway?
Xaden watched her.
He watched her all the gods damned time.
Whenever YN entered a room, his eyes immediately had to snap to her, watching her trained and skilled form weave through the crowd of the dining hall or the courtyard, purpose and strength in her steps. She commanded respect as the youngest elected wing leader; everyone knew of her skills and sharp mind. Everyone had watched her challenges fought out on the mats, witnessed her strategic thinking in every class, and could see the lethal grace she encompassed as soon as she climbed her dragon and took off into the skies. Not to mention the way she wielded her signet—the one not presented on her uniform, considered secret for the common folk.
He had been lost years ago—lost his heart and soul to this woman who now wouldn’t even look in his direction, his presence beneath that of a mouse stealing the cheese in Basgiath. Even that mouse would gain her attention sooner than him, especially if it tried to steal one of her cheese cubes she craved whenever her monthly blood flood knocked at the doors—her words, not his.
Even now, two days after their conversation, which had left him stunned and confused, Xaden watched her dragon fly in circles in the clear blue sky before landing on the flight field after formations, YN sitting on its back with windswept hair and flushed cheeks. He watched one of her hands rest on the dragon’s red, shimmery scales as she spoke to the majestic creature—scales that easily reminded one of the ever-changing colors of a fire; garnet, scarlet, ruby, and ember shades creating something as beautiful and mesmerizing as YN Mairi was.
“This is a pathetic display, boy,” Sgaeyl mocked behind him, but he knew she watched them, too. “You do need to make a decision and stop playing foolish games.” He knew that, and yet, Xaden didn’t know how. He was bound to a promise in order to protect those he loved the most—his friends, the other rebel kids trying to survive this hellhole of a school, and… the one woman who now stared right back at him.
Despite the distance, it seemed he could almost feel the anger directed at him physically, making his stomach turn, and his muscles clench.
Where did they go wrong?
At which point did he lose her so irrevocably?
Xaden’s whirlwind of questions eased the moment he felt a presence right next to him, and he didn’t have to look to know who stood beside him. Violet had the tendency to appear at the most inconvenient of times, mostly whenever he tried to mend things with YN, even though he hadn’t been entirely sure what it was he had to mend—not until two days ago, when he finally had witnessed every single emotion floating through her eyes after he had fought through the clouds of anger and hurt. And now he knew how this might appear to his best friend.
One look back at her, and he could watch the way she climbed off Tavryn; movements filled with grace and something else, and the reckless streak continued as Xaden took a step in her direction when YN let go of the scales numerous feet above the grassy ground and landed on her boots.
“Xaden.”
Now he had to turn to Violet, but his mind screamed to walk to YN, to pull her into his arms, and make her strong-headed mind realize that he felt exactly the same as she did. (And making every soul in Basgiath see who she belonged to, finally stopping the longing and drooling stares of most men and even a handful of women within these walls. His heart and nerves would surely be thankful for that.)
“What is it, Violet?”
She looked up at him, brows drawn in. “Do you like her?” Xaden wasn’t sure if it was jealousy he heard in her voice. “She’s my best friend,” was all he said, making her scoff. “Best friends do not look at each other the way you two are.” Obviously, she was right because Violet was no foul. Neither was he—at least most of the time. He couldn’t say the same about himself whenever YN was concerned.
With a deep sigh, Xaden pushed a hand through his hair and propped a fist into his hip. “Whatever it is you want to say, Violet, say it.” When had he become so incredibly tired of everything revolving around him? When had he started to loathe the responsibilities he had taken on as one of the eldest? Had he ever liked being a leader, a protector, someone those after him could look up to and seek advice?
YN had always been better at giving counsel and advice—she had the empathy and warmth for it if she so much as pleased to show it to the world. Traits he clearly seemed to lack.
Xaden was fortunate enough to be one of the few people in the world who knew about the depth of this hidden side of his best friend.
Violet took a step closer to him, one of her hands rising and resting on his chest, right above his beating heart.
A heart that would never beat for her.
“The night of our kiss… It was a mistake, something born out of the bond that we share. I know that now. I might have known for a while. We would never work out, Xaden, not even if you would love me just a fraction of the way you love YN. We might have to stay in each others lives, but I only offer a hand in friendship. I don’t want to stand in the way of you and her because I see how miserable each of you is. I can feel it, even if you try to hide it.”
He was stunned to say the least. He never would have guessed this was what she wanted to talk to him about, not with the way they both had acted around one another in the past weeks. First, he had seriously considered growing a liking for her, but then his heart always ached whenever he looked at YN, unable to let go of her, not even after all these years loving her from afar, only ever being her best friend and nothing more.
Always having to watch on whenever she would choose another to warm her bed, all the while he desperately wanted to be the one she would choose every night, every day, every minute they spent breathing.
As Bodhi would say: He was a goner for YN Mairi.
And he would wholeheartedly agree because the longing ached so much; on some days, it was almost unbearable.
Was she feeling the same?
Was she as miserable as he was?
Would she accept him? Would she take him as he was, flaws and all?
Xaden didn’t want to admit it, but it scared him—the prospect of not being good enough for someone like YN Mairi, he so desperately loved, it almost appeared impossible. As if the gods themselves forged this love for this woman.
Perhaps they were destined for each other.
Staring down at Violet, Xaden let out a long-held breath. “Thank you.” It was a mere murmur, but it made her smile nonetheless. “Not for this, Xaden. I want you to be happy—I want myself to be happy. And I’m gladly stepping away for the sake of both of us.”
He gently squeezed her shoulder before turning and walking across the field, eating up the distance between him and the woman he loved more than life itself.
“It took you long enough, boy. Go and claim your mate,” Sgaeyl growled, making Xaden almost chuckle because he always had a suspicion that the blue daggertail secretly adored YN. Perhaps his dragon would finally cease to haunt him whenever her menacing stares fell on Tavryn and YN, always hounding him about what a perfect match these two were, how she ought to be one of the most powerful additions to Navarre and their own forces, making her stand out in the sea of rebels and revolutionists.
Xaden’s heart almost lost hope when YN turned at the sound of his closing steps, anger and something else taking over her pretty features he would one day have painted and immortalized in a portrait, hanging in the main hall of Riorson House back at home in Aretia, perhaps next to a portrait of both of them together. Slow down, Xaden, the voice of his realistic side warned him in his mind.
“Not you again,” YN huffed when he was within earshot, pulling off her leather gloves one finger at a time with precision and traitorous calm, eyes downcast on the task at hand. “Someone is waiting for you right over there, you know? You should go back and leave me the hell out of it.” Her menacing red dragon growled in warning to underline her words, making Xaden look up at the beast for a moment, calculating if he would kill him if the man dared to step closer to his rider. But he knew how crucial it was to make her finally understand, so Xaden shot every warning in his mind into the wind and down the ravine as he stepped closer when YN pushed her gloves into the belt around her hips.
The sudden closeness made her pause, and, slowly, ever so slowly, her gaze wandered up his body, halting at his shoulders for a moment before she finally stared right into his eyes, not budging even the tiniest bit.
He loved that about her. Her fierceness. Her bravery. Her undying and utterly devoted loyalty once someone had gained her trust. Her selflessness in protecting the people she loved with everything she was, if the situation required it. The depths of her emotions.
YN Mairi was one of a kind, and Xaden would be a fool to let this woman slip through his fingers because he had been stupid enough not to look deeper and allow himself to feel.
The woman in front of him huffed again at the lack of words leaving his mouth. “Great. And now you’ve grown mute or what? What is wrong with you? Don’t you understand the common tongue anymore, Riorson? Do I have to spell it out for you? Write it down? It would be my pleasure if it means to finally get rid of yo-…” Taking a step closer, Xaden growled: “You don’t know when to shut up and listen for once, woman, do you?”
And with that, and another frustrated growl, one of his hands slid into the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her silky strands, softly grabbing them and forcing her head to bend back, making her keep watching him. “I do not love her. I have never loved Violet, and do you want to know why?” He barely paused long enough to give her the chance to get another sarcastic quip in. “Because I am so desperately and irrevocably in love with this frustrating and infuriatingly headstrong woman. She is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Sarcastic, smart, brilliant. Loyal to a fault after you achieved getting into her heart because she allowed you in. But, by the gods, does she infuriate me constantly. You wanna know why?” Another too short a pause for her to barrel in, but her stunned expression told Xaden she wouldn’t have said a word either way. He leaned closer, until the tip of their noses touched ever so softly. “Because she doesn’t see me. She doesn’t see how hard I’m aching to be near her, how hard every day is knowing she wouldn’t even deign to look my way, not granting me one of her pretty smiles, not laughing at a mumbled snark, not waiting for me with an extra bread roll on her plate in the morning because she knows how much I love those. Do you know how hard that is, YNN? I can’t breathe without you near me. Life without you is constant agony, and I am done with it. I am done living in constant pain.”
He laid everything bare, and it barely scared him anymore—not when he saw realization trickle into her eyes, which didn’t dare blink. And then, a slow, small smile tugged at her lips, which he had dreamed of countless times over the years.
“Took you long enough,” YN whispered, almost teasingly, but with deep affection in her tone, he knew how to read after two decades of friendship. “Unbelievable,” he growled in return, his hand wrapped up in her silky hair, pulling her closer into him and claiming her lips with his in a bruising kiss, bordering on violence and desperation. He would have time to explore her, to get familiar with her on this new level, but right now he had to make sure she knew what he meant—what it meant being loved by him.
Her body pressed against his was pure bliss, the lovely moan escaping her utterly heart-wrenching, and her hands grabbing onto his shoulders and neck absolutely divine. They fit perfectly, like two perfectly crafted puzzle pieces, only waiting to be finally picked up and put together, forming a union stronger than anything else. They had always been a team, but now, it would be something more, something deeper—and he couldn’t wait to explore it with her.
Kissing her like a man starved and possessed, Xaden bent her neck even further, bowing at his waist to be closer to her, feet steady and standing strong to support them both, feeling YN’s hands desperately pulling at his leathers, trying to have him even closer. Oh, how he would revel in the moment the door of either of their private rooms would fall shut behind them, and he would have this woman all to himself.
Buzzing excitement and a nervous flutter zapped through his body at the mere thought of having YN Mairi standing in front of him, watching her peel all these layers away, knowing he would be the only man seeing her from now on. It stirred something ancient in him, something from long-lost times. If he weren’t trained to hold back, he would mark her like some feral beast.
Gasping for air, YN softly pushed at his shoulders before one of her soft hands found its natural spot against the sharp line of his jaw, the pad of her thumb gently caressing his warm cheek below his strong cheekbone. Xaden’s heart beat faster at the sight of her mesmerizing eyes softening while she traced his features with every gaze, watching his eyes, calculating if she could believe him.
He knew her after all.
But then, she pressed a soft kiss to one corner of his mouth, letting her lips linger there, inhaling deeply before a sigh left her body, taking all the tightness of her muscles with it. He knew then that YN believed him. He knew she let her walls down for him, desperately hoping she wouldn’t regret it. And Xaden would make sure it would never come to it.
“Did you finally understand, love? I could never be in love with Violet or anyone else for that matter, because my love was always claimed by you. There was no one else—there could never be anyone else but you. And I think, I am not the only one.”
He watched her closely but had to close his eyes when YN pulled him back to her lips, kissing him softer and without rush, savouring the sensation before her fingers wrapped around his chin, not letting his head move an inch. He wouldn’t dare to go against her wish.
“Xaden… I have loved you since the day we went into the hills around Aretia and gathered wildflowers because I wanted a flower crown for the festivities. I loved you even before that day. And that has never changed, not throughout the years, not when I was brought to some foreign estate, not knowing if or when I would see you again, and definitely not after running into you on our way up to the parapet.” She stopped, and the Riorson was quick to catch one stray tear with his thumb that dared to escape her lashes. “I am not even sure I am capable of not loving you, doesn’t matter how hard I try.”
Her grip became stronger around his chin, and fire erupted in her eyes, making him almost smirk. “But because I love you more than the air we breathe, I will not tolerate being betrayed. Do you understand me, Riorson? You will come to me and talk it through like adults if something ever happens and you try to pull back and handle it yourself. That is not how this is going to work from now on. You will come to me and I will be by your side. You will not pull away and let me guess and suffer like some silly school girl. We are past that point and I’ll beat the living hells out of you if you try something like this.” His smirk finally showed, lifting one corner of his mouth as he nodded slowly. “I mean it,” YN stressed and pulled his face closer to hers. “Don’t try to outsmart me. I know you, perhaps better than anyone else, so let me be by your side.”
Xaden felt satisfaction and pride pool in his body, and he wasn’t shy of devouring her lips again, pressing his forehead against hers, breathing the same air as she did, feeling finally complete.
“I will not betray you, love. I swear it on my life.”
And he had every intent to keep his promise until his body would be burned after either losing his last fight or falling asleep next to the woman he loved after having lived a very long and happy life with her.
Summary: Anon Request: It seems your partners have a secret they aren't willing to share. Between that and their continual use of their bond, you begin to feel like a spectator in your own relationship. But jealousy ensues when you don't play the game by their rules.
A/N: Onyx Storm Spoilers! This takes place in the first part of OS, so you've been warned. Depression, Worthlessness, and ANGST.
Word Count: 7.7k
So...this is the first time I've ever written for a poly couple, so be gentle with me.
To say things were strained, would be an understatement. Since the battle of Basgiath, you couldn’t help but feel like the third wheel. Suddenly rendered either replaceable or just not worth the time in general, at least that’s how it looked from your eyes.
You knew they were keeping secrets, and you couldn’t help the way you felt iced out of your own relationship. Violet was always trying to redirect conversations. Xaden, on the other hand, said less than ten words to you one day.
You went from feeling like you had the world with them both, to feeling like you weren’t worth the dirt on your own boots.
It’s then you found yourself walking into the hall to find Xaden and Violet standing outside the doors of the meeting with the cadre. Watching from the shadows, your eyes dart between the two as they clearly have one of their now, all too common, telepathic conversations.
The feelings of envy and unworthiness wrap around your heart and squeeze. How many times were you going to watch them have their own secrets while you stood on the outside? Were they ever going to realize how much it hurt to watch them continue in their own cocoon? You thought you had discussed this, that the last fight would’ve gotten through to them, but apparently it did nothing.
“Hey, are you going to wait with Xaden?” Garrick asks as he steps up beside you though his own eyes are on the aforementioned man.
“No.” The word is sharp, there is no room to mistake that anger is bleeding through your tone.
“Why n-“ Garrick’s words are cut short as you turn abruptly and walk back towards the dormitories.
As you turned, you caught the glimpse of Xaden’s eyes and by the shadow that snakes around your wrist, you know for certain he saw you. But instead of falling back to him as you would normally, you shake off the shadow and continue your march.
The force of the winter chill slaps across your face as you emerge into the courtyard, but you don’t feel the freezing temperature. Instead, the ice seems to slide across your heart, the organ hardening against the coming hurt that you can feel in your soul.
It’s not surprising. You’ve never felt like someone who belonged, especially not in the powerful world of the two people you called yours. But now, the same people that had pledged that you would never be left out have clamored in on themselves tucking you neatly outside of the everchanging pace of their lives.
‘You are powerful in your own right. Do not let their silence diminish you.’ Rion bursts into your thoughts, a calm wave shooting through your shared bond.
A sad, tired smile crawls across your face as you make it to your room at Basgiath. Your dragon always the one to bolster you when you felt yourself slipping. You shut the door and lock it, not interested in another range of excuses from the two people who have been your respite.
As you fall into bed, you let the comfort of the familiar room fall around you. If nothing stays constant in this world, the bare necessities at the war college have become an unlikely consolation. Falling into the sheets, you look back at the door, as much as you’ve tried not to guard your heart, you find yourself unwilling to compromise any longer.
Dragging yourself back up, you take a deep breath and let it calm you. Unsure if either of them will even come looking, you choose to move forward anyway. Holding up your hand you let Rion’s magic flow through you, shaping the strands into thin moveable pieces. Ward weaving had come oddly naturally to you, something you’d worked on in secret along with your signet.
Pulling every piece into place, you solidified your wards so that only you could enter, effectively blocking out a list of people that had become comfortable with walking in and out of your room. You knew you should feel sad, but a part of you was relieved that you would finally have a place that was solely your own.
As you laid back down in bed, you only focused on the worn stone of the ceiling. Emotion that had been clouding all day pushed to the side in favor of the sleep that was beckoning you. Eyes beginning to drift shut, you thought you heard a knock on the door. Remembered somewhere in the back of your mind that Violet had wanted you with her tonight for something regarding the wards, but instead of letting the thought fester, you let the heavy hand of sleep claim you.
______________
“Where the hell were you? And what did you do with the wards on your door?” The snarl in Xaden’s voice does nothing to draw down the walls that you’ve been building.
“Xaden.” Violet hisses through her teeth giving him a warning look. They hold each other’s stare a beat longer before his eyes soften and look back towards you.
“It doesn’t matter where I was.” You shoot back, your own anger bouncing as you watch the scene unfold.
“Y/N.” Violet tries to soothe as she comes up to you, her hand grabbing for yours. You let her take it, fingers intertwining and let the familiarity of the gesture soothe the hottest part of your anger.
“You should’ve been there to help last night.” Xaden voice is still terse, a warning showing through that you weren’t where you were supposed to be.
“Yes, and I’m sorry I forgot.” You state as you reinforce your shields. It was hard enough when Xaden’s second signet was revealed for both you and Violet. But with their penchant for silent discussion, you guard your thoughts even more.
“It seems she didn’t need my particular brand of expertise anyway. From what Ridoc told me, everything went according to plan.” The words are flat as you continue to glare at Xaden.
He must see something in your face, because soon enough he’s pulling you forward with your other hand and wrapping his arms around you.
“I don’t know how to fix whatever’s going on if you don’t let me in.” Xaden whispers into your hair as you feel Violet’s head come to rest on your shoulder.
“There’s nothing to fix.” You reply letting yourself deflate. You know what he’s inferring, he wants you to drop your shields enough to gather your intentions, so that he can correct whatever’s amiss.
You can’t explain it, but for some reason, you don’t. There’s something larger going on and you’re tired of being on the outside looking in. If you know either of them as well as you think you do, you can hear the conversation of ‘it’s only for your protection’ shining through every single outcome.
‘They underestimate you because you don’t show them your power.’ Rion comments as you let your own thoughts drown out the comfort both of them are trying to give.
‘Well maybe if they showed more interest or explained their plans, I would show them what they haven’t noticed.’ You volley back, though the terse attitude isn’t for your dragon.
Your thoughts are pulled back to the present as you feel the ghost of Xaden’s lips at your temple. The gesture meant to be soothing and reassuring, but you’re unsure of who its really for the tension in his shoulders still coiled like a spring. Violet turns your face towards her own and her lips meet yours in a featherlight gesture. It’s almost as if you can feel the way they hold back, the secrets becoming an impenetrable force between you.
Before Xaden deigns to let you go, he whispers for only you to hear. “Fix your wards. I need to be able to know you’re safe.”
The words are meant to quiet, to put a balm to the ache of the wound that is festering between you, but it does nothing but push you further. If either of them wanted you safe they wouldn’t be holding back whatever it is that they can’t seem to say.
______________
You wrap your arms around Violet as your lips ghost across her shoulder before you pull the buttons of her flight jacket closed. Ever since Xaden’s assignment as Professor, you had spent most nights in her bed, both of you finding solace in each other with the absence of Xaden.
You wish you could say that this change had settled your heart and the way you felt iced out of your relationship, but then you would be lying to yourself. Each day since the news of her departure with Xaden to Anca, you had been deciding on a plan of how you would get some distance of your own.
Nothing permanent, just something for you to have some space that you otherwise never seemed to get with either one of them lurking and keeping tabs on you. Neither one would admit it, but they were unnerved by the small ways in which you had begun to pull back. Though between Xaden’s new duties as the Duke of Tyrrendor and Violet’s constant review of the books available regarding venin and the irids, there wasn’t much time for intimacy of any kind these days.
“I wish you were coming with us.” The words are quiet as Violet turns to face you.
“I know, but I’ll be fine. You just need to worry about you and Xaden making it back safe.”
“Considering we don’t know how many venin are lurking the halls of Basgiath, I’d garner to say we both need to worry about you too.” Each word is sincere and you can see the concern etched in her brow as she searches your eyes.
Your hand comes up to her face and you let your thumb trace over the lines to try and soothe the worry.
“Just come back safely.” The words escape your mouth quietly as you step closer to her.
As you lean in, you let your heart deflate a little knowing that when she returns, you hopefully won’t be in Basgiath. Your lips clash in a kiss that for you is a goodbye, one that leeches nothing but bittersweet emotion. You hear Violet sigh as she melts towards you as your tongue gently swipes along the curve of her bottom lip.
When you finally pull back, there’s no mistaking the flush to Violet’s cheek and the swell of her kiss bruised lips.
“Xaden is going to be upset he won’t get to give you a proper goodbye.” Violet muses as she pushes back a strand of hair from your face.
A small smile curls your lips as you take in the all too familiar warmth that settles between you. It’s the feeling that you will hold onto as you step away from the girl in front of you.
“I’ll be there to see you both off.” You say as you grab your pack before turning Violet’s door.
Before you can even stride forward the door swings back and the aforementioned man is standing in front of you. Eyes slightly wild and hair untamed, he looks as though he had just sprinted through the halls of the dormitories.
“I hope you didn’t think I’d be leaving without a proper goodbye.” Xaden’s words were as hot as the fire in his eyes as he glided towards you.
As he pulled you closer, you reinforced your shields, not wanting him to get any insight into your plans for the day. Your words however, were nothing if not a sultry reply to his.
“Well Professor Riorson. I thought it was against the Code of Conduct for a professor and student to be seen together.”
“Fuck the Code of Conduct. The both of you are my code and I’ll manage that however I see fit.” His words cut off as his mouth crashes down on yours, arms snaking around your waist pulling your body taut against his own.
The kiss is just like Xaden, an all-consuming fire that will burn everything that dares to stand in his way. It’s impossible not to get swept away in the tide of his kisses, each curve of his lips igniting a fire that never truly banks.
You aren’t trying to get swept back into the working hum of your relationship with them, but with their imminent departure and you having to stay back, it seems both of them are keenly aware of the divide now.
Xaden’s lips begin to slow to a languid pace and you feel one of his arms leave your waist as he drags Violet towards you. Your head turns as you bring a hand to cup Violet’s face and kiss her hard, the fire that Xaden struck humming a crescendo through your blood.
As the fire begins to flutter out, you step back. You can only imagine the image you paint. Face flushed, lips swollen from repeated kisses, a self-satisfied smirk curving your lips.
But with each step further from them, the cold that has been spreading through your relationship returns like the gusts of winter before a snowstorm.
“It’s probably time to get you both down to the flight field.” You say as you let a sad smile lilt your lips.
Xaden crosses to you again, pulling you in with one arm.
“I don’t like leaving you behind.” You look up and watch as Xaden’s throat works, the ever-present tick in his jaw showcasing his distaste for the situation.
“You’ll have Violet, my darling. You’ll be just fine.” You say calmly even with your shields raised firmly in place.
“I need you both.” He says as he steps back and surveys you both now standing directly in front of him.
“You have us.” Violet replies, though there’s a twinkle in her eye that is reserved only for Xaden.
Without another word Xaden turns and strides out the door before either you or Violet move. You know it’s so the constant eyes of General Aetos don’t have anything to report, but it doesn’t make the sting any less.
Trying not to ruminate, you turn to Violet, expression serious.
“Take care of him.” The words are meant to be nothing more than an ask, to hold the man who has been left to many times from breaking when he realizes what you’ve done once they return. That is until you see Violet’s face and the confusion that has been lingering settles on your brow again.
Violet searches your face, as if she’s looking for a tell that you’re aware of something in what you’ve just said that she didn’t know. Though when she shakes her head at you, you realize that whatever she is concerned about, you clearly are none the wiser.
“We’ll take care of each other. But, you need to stick close to Bodhi, Garrick, Imogen, or someone from the squad.” She says as you both begin to walk towards the flight field.
“I’ll take care of myself.” You reply obstinately. It isn’t as though your life is tied to anyone else’s.
Violet gives you a knowing smile as you finally reach the flight field. After one last kiss, she turns and mounts Tairn. Then your attention shifts as you watch Xaden mount Sgaeyl without looking back. Though as the ghost of a touch skims across your face, you know that Xaden is more than aware of your presence.
You stand there as everyone gathers and watch them rise, soon enough fading into the distance of flight.
Turning on your heels, you set your destination to the third floor and start the quest to get some much needed space for yourself.
__________
“I don’t need Riorson breathing down my neck the minute they get back.” Dain grumbles as he continues to mull over your ask, eyes averted to his desk.
“I’m not asking you to explain anything.” You reply as you try to reason with him. “All the information will be given to both Xaden and Violet. I’m just requesting a transfer to a different squad, not asking to leave the continent.”
Dain scoffs at your response, giving you a look that says he knows exactly what will happen when Xaden and Violet return.
“Xaden is a Second Lieutenant, Professor, and Duke. He’ll have plenty to worry about without having to deal with me or you. And besides, Violet has her squad. Sure, they’ve welcomed me, but that wasn’t the squad I started with, so there’s no harm in leaving.” You aren’t sure if there is a way you’re going to convince Dain without begging and pleading, so instead you try to appeal to the side of disappointment and regret that you know still eats at him.
“Look Dain, I need some space.” You level all the seriousness you can muster to the man in front of you. “You know Violet better than anyone here. And I know you’ve seen the rollercoaster of a relationship that we’ve all had. This is me needing some space.”
“I’m not leaving them or shutting them out entirely. But, a relationship is not anything if there’s nothing but secrets between you. I’m tired of standing on the outside of their mated dragon’s bond. I just need a moment to breathe.” You don’t dare speak of the lingering thought that something bigger is at play that they haven’t revealed.
There must be something to the plea in your voice because Dain exhales as if he’s coming to terms with the repercussions he’s going to have to face.
“Fine. But if Riorson buries me for this, I’m coming back to haunt you.” Dain exhales as he pinches the bridge of his nose.
You give Dain a sharp nod before walking out his door. Satisfaction coils in your gut as you descend the stairs of the dormitories and return to your own room.
Grabbing your pack, you swing it over your arms and take a breath knowing that in less than a day you will be in Aretia and away from the cloying suffocation of Basgiath.
__________
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Garrick’s voice reaches you, breathless from running as you walk the final steps to Rion’s foreleg.
“I’m going to Aretia with my squad as runes class dictates.” You throw over your shoulder not stopping to talk to your most likely assigned protector.
Before you can make it two more steps, the familiar large hand clamps your shoulder and spins you around. Hazel eyes burning with annoyance. You huff in indignation at the thought that Garrick has anything to be annoyed about.
“Your squad isn’t in Aretia for this rotation. I just spoke with Imogen, and you aren’t due to go for another six weeks.” Garrick’s eyes narrow on yours as if waiting for you to defy him.
“That is the Iron Squad’s rotation for Aretia, yes.” You say drawing it out for your own satisfaction. “I’m not on that squad any longer, Professor.”
Shock flares in Garrick’s eyes, though his hand still hasn’t left your shoulder.
“What the hell are you talking about? You were assigned to that squad in the beginning of the year. Both Xaden and Violet were adamant about that.”
A wry chuckle leaves your mouth. “Yes, well, neither one of them are here, are they?”
“Besides, between all of Xaden’s duties and Violet’s search for the Irids, I don’t think they’ll have time to miss me.” You try pulling out of Garrick’s grip, but his hand is unyielding.
“Is this some kind of stunt for attention?” That question has Rion’s head turning, a warning growl rumbling through her chest. Meanwhile your own eyes darken at the accusation, anger flaring hotly in your orbs and under your skin.
“I’m not looking for anyone’s attention, Tavis. Least of all Xaden or Violet’s.” Your tone grows darker as the anger begins to course through your veins. “In fact, I’d love exactly the opposite. I want to be left alone. Iced out, like the rest of you and your fucking group have been doing since the Battle of Basgiath.”
Now its Garrick’s turn for his eyes to flare in shock. His reaction confirms every suspicion you’ve had since the morning after the battle. It’s that disbelief that makes him drop his hand, retreating a few steps as if he suddenly is unsure of exactly what to do.
You step towards Rion and out of the reach of his grasp, but you won’t leave without a few parting words.
“I know that there’s a secret. Something only a few of you are worthy enough to know. I guess I figured since I was a partner to the two that are seeming to be in the thick of it, the love they have for me would warrant me deserving of their confidence. Instead, I get to watch as the five of you move pieces on a chess board that I didn’t even know we were playing.” Your words gain momentum and ferocity as weeks of rotting emotions begin to wear away at you.
“When they return and inevitably ask you what the fuck happened, you can relay this message. I don’t need their protection, or anyone else’s. If they can’t or won’t trust me with everything, then I’ll do them a favor and make myself scarce.”
You don’t bother to wait for a reply as you mount Rion and settle into her familiar scales.
‘This will only be fuel to the fire of the already overly dramatic shadow wielder.’ Rion muses though you don’t miss the amusement that laces every word.
‘Then let him be dramatic. Doesn’t mean I have to be a part of it.’ You reply back, not with anger or ferocity, just the certainty that you’ve made the best decision for yourself.
As Rion lifts from the ground, you take a deep breath and settle in, letting the heaviness of Basgiath and the last few months there rise from your shoulders. You have no doubt the next few weeks will be messy, but for some reason, you can’t find it within yourself to care.
__________
“Where are Xaden and Violet?” Is the first question out of Brennan’s mouth as you move into the Assembly Chambers at Riorson House.
“You know damn well where they are.” You spit shaking your head at the automatic question anytime you step into a room. “I’m not here to discuss them. I’m here to be assigned a room for the duration of the runes stay for my squad.”
Brennan’s eyebrows rise at your response, clearly caught off guard. “What do you mean assigned a room. I’ve been more than reprimanded a few times from our tempestuous Duke that you and Violet remain in his quarters while in Aretia.”
“Yes, well, circumstances have changed.” You can tell that Brennan has a million questions, that he wants to pry into what is really going on, but you refuse to let him get more. “I’m just here to be assigned a room, nothing more, nothing less. So let’s skip the relationship twenty questions.”
Brennan continues to hesitate far longer than appropriate, but the wall that you’ve built around asking anything further must be enough to get him to move on. Scrunching his eyebrows and shaking his head, he pulls a book from the stack upon the table before looking back up.
“Let me look over everything and I’ll let you know by lunch time today.” He replies as his fingers begin skimming through the book.
You don’t bother acknowledging him and turn on your heels, moving towards the familiar classroom where you let your mind settle into the calming hum of your magic.
__________
“So, when were you going to share your wealth of knowledge with the rest of us?” Elliott asks as he drifts closer to the chair you’ve set yourself on.
You let the small chuckle leave you as you lean towards him. The well-known rhythm settling in between you and your original squad.
“All you had to do was ask.” You snark back, but you can’t help the smile of comfort that twists your lips.
“Hard to do when someone has made themselves scarce since becoming a couple with the highest profile riders in the quadrant.” Samira retorts giving you one of her knowing looks.
You can’t help the snort that leaves you, though if in humor or derision, you’re unsure.
“Come on. Who needs us when they have the arm of the Duke of Tyrrendor and the ear of the continent famous lighting wielder.” Though the words are meant in jest, the reminder of the power laden relationship you are a part of sours something in your stomach.
You don’t let the feelings that are still festering show on your face as you laugh along with Elliott and Samira. Both have welcomed you back into the squad with more than welcoming arms and its clear to you that their friendship has blossomed without your presence. There is a twinge of jealousy, but something on your face must show because soon enough Elliott’s arm is over your shoulders and pulling you closer.
“You know you can tell us anything right.” Elliott’s voice is quiet as his hold tightens in comfort. “No matter what, we are still a squad, a family, no matter if your name is written in the same block or not.”
You give him a small smile and lean into the comfort. You knew that leaving Basgiath and the two people you love wouldn’t be simple, but it’s this space that you needed to feel like you weren’t just an outsider looking in.
“Thank you both. I knew when I requested the transfer from Dain that I would be welcomed back, but it’s even better knowing that it really is true.” A quirk of an eyebrow is all you get from both of them before the conversation changes.
It finally feels like you can breathe without someone constantly looking over your shoulder. It isn’t that you ever minded the fierce protectiveness of Xaden or Violet, but its refreshing to know that there’s no unspoken communication or secrets laden between the two people in front of you.
As the night wears on, you let the heat of the hearth and the warmth of the bond with the two people in front of you warm the part of your heart that had begun to grow cold. You know it’s just a matter of time before you must answer for your decision and face whatever consequences that may arrive, but for now you let the smile settle on your face as your head rests on Elliott’s shoulder.
___________
Two nights later a rough pounding on your door draws you awake. Your eyes blink blearily as you try to banish the sleep from your eyes.
Groaning as you slowly rise from the bed, limbs still heavily laden with sleep. Seconds later, there’s no doubt now who is on the other side of the door. Your hand barely crosses the frame before Xaden is grabbing you and pulling himself into the room.
“Couldn’t this have waited till morning.” Your voice rasps as you try to clear the last remaining dregs of sleep. It’s obvious to Xaden that you haven’t raised his eyes, because if you had, he knows you would’ve never asked that question.
Xaden doesn’t speak, your arm still gripped in his and it’s his tightening grip that finally has your eyes meeting his. As soon as you meet the familiar eyes, you blink a few times, sure that you must be dreaming.
Is the color of his eyes different?
Surely it must just be the lighting, you blink several times again finally clearing past the haze. Now it isn’t the color you focus on, but the swarming emotions that seem to be mounting by the second.
“What the fuck are you playing at?” The words sound like they’ve been scraped from Xaden’s soul, fractured and haunted in a way you’ve never heard before.
But it’s that emotion that has your own defenses lifting, each wall being reinforced with the might of your own anger. You tear your arm away and take several steps back, taking the much needed space you want from the man in front of you.
A humorless laugh leaves your lips as you watch the look in his eyes turn even wilder. You take him in, jacket askew, hair sticking up as though he can’t keep his hands out of it and the sight is almost comical. His fists tighten at his sides making his knuckles turn white, his jaw ticking in concealed irritation.
You don’t say anything as you stare back at him. You knew that you didn’t have much time, but you never thought he would come busting through the door like a man possessed. And for what?
You look to the hall, fully expecting Violet to waltz in behind, her own eyes burning in fury, but it seems you are only graced with one of them tonight.
“Well?” He seethes as his eyes continue to roam over your figure.
“Well, what?” You spit back with equal agitation.
He scoffs as he takes a step towards you, but the minute he moves, you step back. It’s that one step that has him faltering, and in all your time, you’ve never seen Xaden Riorson falter. Suddenly the wildness in his eyes turns to panic, an emotion you’ve only ever seen on his face in the form of battle when you or Violet were injured.
He swallows thickly as he tries to recover himself, now seemingly unsure of what exactly to do.
“Why did you request a transfer back to your old squad?” The words are quieter now, almost as if he’s lost the wildness he had when entering the room.
You scoff as your face turns toward the ground. “If you have to ask, maybe you haven’t been paying attention, your Grace.”
The title slips off your lips in a sneer, the term sounding more like a curse than a pleasantry.
“You need to come back to Basgiath with me, so we can talk with Violet. The three of us have things to discuss.” His tone is meant to be comforting, but all it does is stoke the embers of your anger.
“What? So, I can watch as the both of you talk to each other and leave me out of it? So, you can scrape me raw by knowing my every thought but leave me questioning both of yours?” The words hit exactly where you were aiming as you watch his face falter.
“Precisely.” You snap back as you stand at your door with your hand gesturing for him to leave. “If you want to talk when my squad is back at Basgiath, then fine. But I’m not leaving until my stint in Aretia is complete. If you want to keep secrets, then be my guest, but it doesn’t mean that I must be part of the equation any longer.”
Surprised, Xaden takes the few steps to stand outside your door. The hurt in his eyes shines as he looks back at you. You can see it in the tense set of his limbs that he’s desperate to reach out, but each word of your challenge has landed squarely. Instead of folding into him, you close the door and effectively shut down any communication.
‘Sgaeyl is not happy with your words.’ Rion muses sleepily as if she was also aroused from her slumber.
‘Yes, well, I’m not happy with being kept in the dark like a child either.’ You snark back, though the amusement continues to rise through your bond.
‘Though she commends you for fire. Seems the shadow wielder is not currently in her good graces.’ You are momentarily shocked with Rion’s words, never in your life did you think you’d warrant pride from Sgaeyl let alone when Xaden somehow disappointed her.
‘I appreciate her commendation, but at this point, I just want to get some sleep and ignore that the last twenty minutes even happened.’ You yawn mentally as you settle back into your bed.
A few months ago, the confrontation with Xaden would’ve kept you up all night, but with the way things have been, you find yourself drifting soon enough. It’s during that drift that you miss the shadows that wrap around your form as if they can’t stand to have any space from you. You snuggle further into the blankets, and they wrap themselves tightly to your form. Although there is a pulse that stirs behind them that says their master is fighting a war that he’s not sure he’ll be able to keep up.
__________
The next morning you enter the dining hall, and it would be impossible to miss the Duke of Tyrrendor who has seemed to take to lording over the entire room. You do your best to ignore him completely and walk to your squad with breakfast in hand.
The minute you sit down, you scoot closer to Elliott, determined to ignore Xaden’s presence altogether.
“I love you and all, but did you just sign my death warrant?” Elliott whispers into your ear as his eyes seem to drift in the direction of Xaden.
You lean in even more conspiratorially, your voice a whisper. “Of course not. He’s just being an ass.”
“An ass that looks like he’s one breath away from eating me for breakfast.” Elliott replies while his eyes turn back to yours.
At that point you can’t help the laugh that tumbles out at the absurdity of the entire situation. The laugh surprises even you considering you don’t think you’ve heard the sound since the last time you were in Aretia and still part of your original squad.
It’s then you feel the pulse of shadow that tightens around your wrist. You look down with an eyebrow cocked and pull up your sleeve causing the shadow that was resting there to disappear. You turn to Xaden, only warning shining in your eyes, but his eyes don’t even meet yours, instead they are focused solely on Elliott’s hand that now rests across your shoulder.
“Come on.” Your words are irritated as you move to get up. “Let’s go to the kitchens. Natasha more than likely has something better waiting there.”
As you walk away, you can feel Xaden’s stare boring into you, but you refuse to turn around.
_____________
‘I’m not ready to go back. Can’t we just stay in Aretia?’ You whine to Rion as you walk towards the flight field.
‘Are you wanting to stay because you like it here or because you don’t want to finally have to answer for your decision?’
You groan and scrunch your nose as you make it to Rion’s foreleg.
‘You’re supposed to be on my side, you know.’ Rion’s amused chuff slides into your mind.
‘I am on your side and so is Sgaeyl. You’d be surprised all those who are.’ Your eyes narrow as you look at the back of Rion’s head.
‘Why do I feel like you know something?’
‘Oh, I do. Sgaeyl was more forthcoming without her mate in tow during the shadow wielders visit.’ The rawness of Rion’s voice now has you on edge.
‘Are you going to share what you learned?’
Something in Rion’s tone changes as she looks back towards you in her seat.
‘If it’s something that challenges your safety in any way, then you will know all.’
The cryptic message does nothing to soothe the concern that continues to grow in your gut. The secret they’re clearly hiding is something bigger than anything you could’ve expected and you aren’t sure if it will be the final strike to your relationship or something to bond you closer.
___________
Somehow, you’re lucky enough to arrive back at Basgiath while Violet’s squad is in signet sparring class. You take the boon Zinhal has granted and walk straight back to your quarters.
As soon as you’re done showering, there’s a knock at your door. You face hardens as you open the door, but it begins to soften the minute the person on the other side registers.
“Elliott, what’s going on?”
“Nothing, just thought we could hang out.” He says with a shrug and you extend your hand, pulling him into the space. Though the minute he’s in, you look back at your door quizzically as the magic of your wards seems to pull differently than before.
You don’t know how long has passed as you both have chatted about the last year, between crossing the parapet and fighting venin, the last eighteen months have been a whirlwind.
You are both laughing, your head rested in his lap when the door to your room suddenly swings open. Both startling in surprise, the emotion is short lived when you see who is on the other side.
Xaden and Violet stand there as if you’ve just caved in their entire world. Meanwhile, you can’t keep the irritation off your face.
“That’s why the wards felt different when I pulled Elliott through.” You mutter to no one in particular as you look back at your partners.
Elliott sensing the tension begins to rise and head for the door.
“I’ll talk to you later.” He murmurs as he brings you in for a hug. “Don’t forget you deserve to be heard too.”
The words are quiet, but you have no doubt that Violet and Xaden heard them as you watch their shoulders tense in response.
“I’ll see you later.” You give Elliott one last squeeze before you let him go. You watch as he scoots out the door, careful not to get too close to the two livid forms standing just outside your door.
“Starlight.” Xaden starts as he marches into the room, all commanding presence and bravado. Your brow quirks at the interruption, not used to Xaden calling your personal nickname since gaining his professorship.
Violet doesn’t even try with placating before she’s in front of your face.
“Why did you switch squads and disappear to Aretia? Do you know how worried we were when we got back and you were nowhere to be found?” Violet’s anxiety is obvious as she paces in front of you.
Xaden however has made it his mission to get as close to you as possible, as if he doesn’t touch you soon, you may just float away. You don’t let either of them get too close as you stand your ground, your own stare hardening.
“There was no reason for me to be pulled from my original squad. We all know that.” Your eyes drift back and forth between the two. “The whole reason you both orchestrated that last year was so you’d have someone to keep an eye on me when Violet had to go to Samara.”
The silence settles heavily as the weight of your words begins to take shape.
“Is it because you’re interested in Achinson?” Xaden’s words cut through the haze and you can’t stop the laugh that bubbles out.
“So that’s why both of you are here, because you’re jealous and think that I’m leaving you for Elliott?” You laugh out, though the sarcasm in your voice is thick.
“You’ve both been skirting around me since the battle here and I’m tired. So instead, I try to find people that are here for just me and now you want to come to me because you’re jealous? As if I didn’t warrant the same attention before?” You let the exhaustion leech through your voice, the mixture between that and sadness settling heavy on your shoulders. But you aren’t done saying your peace yet.
“You both sit here and talk mind to mind, and I watch you do it. At this point I don’t even know if it is a cognizant thing you’re doing to keep me out or you’re just so focused on each other you can’t see me standing there.”
“Of course we see you.” Violet blurts out as Xaden grabs your waist and plasters you to his chest no longer able to maintain his distance. “The entire time we were in Anca we were both worried about what could be happening here.”
You feel Xaden’s grip tighten on your waist as Violet’s hand comes up to grip your face. You know if you wanted to, you could let yourself sink into the comfort. To go back to the happiness that you told yourself was forever as you each pledged yourselves to one another.
“You say that, but its hard to feel that way when it feels like there is something hanging over our heads and I’m the only one who doesn’t know it.” Violet’s eyes flare as her hand falls back to her side. It’s that shock that lets you know that you’ve hit the heart of the problem cleanly.
“We are just trying to protect you.” The volume of Violet’s voice has ratcheted up higher than you’ve ever heard it. Conviction and fury lacing through every word, as if she proves it loudly enough you’ll understand its for your own good.
“I’m not in love with the both of you for your fucking protection!” Your own tone rises in response, not willing to concede any ground.
“And that is why we love you. We know you can take care of yourself, but this isn’t something we’re keeping from you lightly.” Xaden’s words are meant to soothe, just like his face that nuzzles in your hair.
Needing space to process your thoughts, you pull yourself out of his hold and towards the door.
“Protection in the name of ignorance is no protection – it’s a death sentence. I would’ve thought that the last year and a half would’ve shown you both that, but clearly you’re both still so absorbed in each other you haven’t pulled your heads far enough away to notice.” You bristle as their insinuation of protection still prickles across your skin.
A cynical huff leaves your mouth as another thought tugs to the forefront of your mind. “Especially you Violet. Or are your actions more justified than Dain trying to shield you from the trials of the quadrant? It isn’t either of your jobs to decide what I can and cannot handle. That’s not fucking love – its control.”
She rears back in surprise, not expecting you to bite. Xaden steps further in front of her and you snarl at the insinuation that you’d ever hurt her, considering you are the one with an aching wound living in your chest.
“So you can keep your fucking protection, you can live in your mind to mind bond, but don’t expect me to play a part in either. You can either love me like you’re supposed to or let me go.”
You turn away, not interested in ‘I’m sorry’ or hurt faces. If they want to keep their secrets and depend on only each other, there’s no room for you. The thought settles heavy on your shoulders, but you refuse to let them see you break. Refuse to be the one to show the weakness that they clearly don’t need as part of their growing dynamic, their growing secrets. Though it hasn’t escaped you that you’re the only one in Xaden’s precious circle that warrants being left out.
Shadows try to bar the door, and they are successful for a beat until you tap into the light of your magic. Each flicker burning through the darkness.
You may not be as powerful as your lighting wielding partner, but she hasn’t been around to see the ways in which you’ve honed your power. A skill that you’ve only shared with Ridoc as you’ve both trained together.
You hear the surprised gasp as you turn the knob of the door, but you have no room in your heart to relish in your pride for yourself. The sting of betrayal festering too brightly to be smothered by a softer emotion.
“Until both of you are willing to come clean with all the fucking secrets, stay away. If you think I can’t handle them, then you never trusted me in the first place. And you don’t get to show up here just because you are fucking jealous to try and explain yourselves.” You throw your words over your shoulder as you continue your stride towards the flight field.
The sting of their silence is still there as Rion comes into view, but without a word, you mount, and she launches immediately. You don’t miss the two figures that run out onto the flight field or the way the shadows surge in an effort to bring you back, but your light lands like a shield around you, a glistening cocoon that keeps each shadow at bay.
The steady beat of wings is the thing that draws your attention and you turn to see familiar sapphire scales glint in the moonlight. You scowl and look toward Sgaeyl’s seat, but the minute you realize that there’s no Xaden, your irritation turns to curiosity.
‘What is Sgaeyl doing?’ You question as the beautiful blue glides under Rion’s wing.
‘She is showing her rider that he has chosen the wrong path. That she stands with you and everything you have laid out before your mates.’ Your eyes turn and your whole body tenses as Sgaeyl’s eyes meet your own.
You always thought you’d see the ruthlessness that lays in Xaden’s stare, but instead there’s a deep sense of knowing, an odd comfort considering her reputation.
‘Your mates will have to decide if they want this relationship and if they do, how to win you back.’ Rion’s words are tense, showing the restraint in her tone. ‘I will not let them keep this from you forever and if they choose to, I will break the oath I’ve sworn and tell you. You will not be alone, and this secret will come to the light.’
You lean into the saddle and let the rush of the wind in your ears quiet your thoughts. As much as you want to push, to yell, to scream, there is no point if the two people you love most in this world will not trust you with the truth.
So instead, you gaze to the spring sky above you let your stare rest on the twinkling stars. You don’t know what tomorrow will bring or if Xaden and Violet will trust you with their secrets. But here among the vastness of the stars, you shake off the restraints of their silence and just feel.
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.
Summary: Xaden has always been jealous and over protective of what's his... that has only amplified now that his wife is carrying precious cargo.
SR’s Note: So... I am not sure if you wanted this to have smut in it or not, so I may have *lightly* sprinkled some in there lol. I hope you enjoy this, and it is what you were wanting!
Tags: @rcarbo1 @lilah-asteria @whyucloudingmymind @bookofriverr @kitsunetori @velarisdusk @nctsawrus @lreadsstuff @paintedbyshadows @woollybread786 @cherry-hotline @obi-wansgirl @therevoloutionhasbegun @freakishfandomfiend @littleemissperfecttt @luvly-writer @fiahtheteaaddict @loveofmychips @w1ngsofwax @bodhidurrans @notnowkittenwhisker (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)
The general never smiled -- not genuinely, anyway. His lips might twist into something resembling amusement during public addresses, but his eyes remained as flat and cold as the steel Riorson nameplate pinned to his uniform. You'd noticed it the first time you saw him across the flight field; he was your Wingleader then, his fingers were drumming an impatient rhythm as he watched each cadet, including yourself, cross the parapet.
Now, as he leaned against the doorframe of your private quarters, that same unnerving stillness settled over him like a second cloak. Now, he stood here years later, and far more familiar to you than Wingleader and cadet -- now husband and wife.
Soon to gain titles far more important.
"You're staring," you said, not looking up from the letter you were writing. The tip of your pen scratched softly against parchment.
Xaden exhaled through his nose, a sound you'd learned meant he was weighing whether to voice a thought or let it fester. The floorboards creaked as he pushed off the frame and prowled toward you. His shadow eclipsed the candlelight before he stopped, close enough that the heat of him seeped into your side.
"You were speaking to that... Prince, earlier."
Ah. So that was the problem.
You dipped the pen into the inkwell, swirling it lazily. You knew how much the crown prince of Navarre always got under your husband's skin.
"He brought reports from the eastern outpost, wanted me to give them to Garrick by tonight." You paused, fluttering your lashes at Xaden. "It was hardly a seductive exchange."
Xaden's jaw flexed. He plucked the pen from your fingers and set it aside with deliberate care. "He stood too close."
You arched an eyebrow, leaning back in your chair to study him properly. The candlelight caught the gold in his irises, turning them molten, a stark contrast to the tension in his shoulders.
"Are you truly keeping tally of how near other men stand to me now?" You asked, lips twitching despite yourself.
Xaden's thumb brushed the inside of your wrist as he leaned against your desk, rough with callouses but impossibly gentle.
"You're smirking," he muttered. "Like this is amusing."
"It's a little amusing," you conceded, standing to get closer to his height. The scent of leather and steel clung to him, familiar as your own skin after all these years. You could feel the suppressed energy coiled in him, the way his fingers flexed against your pulse point; as if he wanted to pin you to the desk and wrap you in silk all at once. "But Halden is half in love with his own horse, darling. And I'm rather obviously yours, hm?"
His gaze dropped to your stomach, hidden beneath the drape of your tunic. The look that crossed his face then, so possessive, and it made your breath hitch.
"You think I don't know what they're thinking when they look at you?" He said quietly. His palm slid up to cradle the curve of your belly, warm through the fabric.
"War makes men desperate. And you," His voice roughened. "You glow like you're carrying sunlight beneath your skinn."
You caught his wrist before his hand could retreat, pressing his palm firmer against the gentle swell beneath your tunic.
"Then let them look," you murmured, watching his pupils dilate at the challenge in your voice. "Let them see exactly what happens when they forget their place."
His breath slowed when your nails grazed the sensitive skin of his inner wrist, a silent reminder that you'd left identical marks down his back just last night.
Xaden made a low noise in his throat, something between a growl and a sigh. His free hand came up to frame your jaw, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth.
"You're playing with fire, Y/N," he warned, but the way his fingers trembled betrayed him. You knew that tremor, the barely-leashed hunger of a man who'd spent too many years treating desire like a weakness to be tampered down.
"Funny," you mused. "I could swear I was playing with my husband."
You nipped at his thumb when it strayed too close to your lips, delighting in the way his grip tightened on your waist instinctively. "Unless you'd prefer I find another-"
The crash of his knee hitting the wood between your thighs cut you off. The desk groaned in protest as he lifted you atop the flat surface, his body caging yours with practiced precision.
"Finish that sentence," he dared, voice gone dangerously soft. Up close, you could see the faint scar just below the right corner of his mouth; a souvenir from some long-ago battle he'd never speak of again. You traced it now with your tongue, giggling softly when he jerked like you'd branded him.
His mouth found yours with none of his usual restraint, all teeth and desperation. You arched into him, tasting the bitterness of jealousy and the lingering sweetness of his post-dinner slice of chocolate cake, no doubt. The inkwell toppled when you scooted to get closer, black spilling across the desk without care.
The ink seeped into the parchment’s fibers, bleeding through your half-written letter. You barely noticed, not when Xaden’s hands were sliding under your thighs, hauling you flush against him with a grunt that vibrated through your ribs -- well, as close as he could get to you while maintaining care to your bump, that is.
The edge of the desk dug into the backs of your knees, but the discomfort melted beneath the heat of his mouth moving to your throat, his teeth scraping the pulse point he’d mapped a hundred times before.
"You're insufferable," you gasped, though your fingers were already tangled in his hair, tugging hard enough to make him groan.
"You started it," he muttered against your skin, one hand slipping beneath your tunic to splay over the curve of your belly -- a habit he’d developed since the first flutter of movement beneath his palm. His thumb stroked idle circles there even as his other hand yanked at the laces of your trousers, the pants yanked all the way off soon after.
"And you’ll finish it." The growl in his voice sent a thrill down your spine. You laughed, breathless, as his fingers found the slick heat between your thighs.
"Such a romantic," you teased, but the words dissolved into a moan when he curled two fingers inside you, his palm grinding against your clit with ruthless efficiency. Your jaw fell as he worked his digits deeper, delighting in the way you melted beneath his touch.
"Look at you," he murmured, slowing his strokes just enough to make you beg. "All this because I called out some prince for standing too close?"
He grunted when you clenched around his fingers, his own arousal pressing insistently against your inner thigh.
"You’re... ridiculous," you managed, arching into his touch. "He was -- ah -- handing me ... supply reports."
Xaden’s chuckle was a dark, velvet thing against your ear as he twisted his fingers just so, drawing a broken sound from your throat.
“Supply reports,” he repeated, his voice dripping with disbelief. His free hand slid up to palm your breast through your tunic, thumb brushing over your nipple until it peaked beneath the fabric. “Funny how those always require leaning into your space, isn’t it?”
You dug your nails into his shoulder, biting back a moan as his teeth grazed your earlobe.
“Jealousy doesn’t suit you,” you lied, because the possessive edge in his voice sent heat pooling low in your belly.
“Not jealousy,” he corrected, withdrawing his fingers just enough to make you chase the touch. "Just reminding you why you're mine, and mine only."
Before you could retort, and tell him that's exactly what jealously means, he dropped to his knees between your thighs, the hardwood floor creaking under his weight. His breath ghosted over the damp fabric of your undies, and you shuddered as he pressed a small kiss to the inside of your thigh.
You tugged his hair, forcing his head back until his gaze locked with yours. The gold in his eyes had darkened to near-black, pupils blown wide.
“So... is it working?” he asked, innocent as a prayer.
You cried out as he pressed his fingers against your sweet spot, crying out a loud Yes! in response as you tossed your head back.
Xaden’s answering grin was all teeth. His other hand practically ripped off your underwear and then suddenly, his mouth was there, hot and relentless. Your back arched as his tongue laved over your clit, his free hand gripping your thigh hard enough to leave bruises.
The parchment crumpled beneath your clutching fingers as Xaden’s tongue dragged a slow, deliberate stripe through your folds. You gasped, the sound ragged and far too loud for the thin walls of the commissary quarters, but he didn’t slow; he only hummed against you, the vibration ricocheting up your spine like a plucked bowstring. His thumb hooked under your knee, spreading you wider, and you shuddered at the obscene slick noise of his mouth on you, at the way his stubble scraped the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.
"Xaden—" you choked out, but his name fractured into a moan when he sucked your clit into his mouth with filthy precision.
His fingers continued their work, plunging into you with a curl that had your hips jerking off the desk after an embarassingly short amount of time.
"Quiet," he ordered against your thigh, his breath hot. "Unless you want the entire eastern hall knowing how the general's wife sounds when she cums."
The threat was undercut by the way his voice had gone rough, by the damp spot you could see growing on his uniform trousers where he was painfully hard. You whimpered, thighs trembling as he added a third finger, the stretch delicious as his free hand reached up to clamp over your mouth.
"That’s it," he murmured, watching tears bead at the corners of your eyes. "Take it. Take what you fucking started."
You bit down on his palm when his thumb found your clit again, circling ruthless little circles as his fingers fucked into you with a pace that left no room for patience. The desk shuddered beneath you with every thrust, the inkwell rolling perilously close to the edge, but Xaden didn’t so much as glance at it -- his focus was singular, unwavering, as he watched you come apart beneath his hands.
Your climax hit like a volley of cannonfire, your back bowing as pleasure tore through you with enough force to leave your vision whiting out at the edges. Xaden drank down every twitch and gasp, his fingers gentling but not stilling as he worked you through it, his mouth pressing open-mouthed kisses to your shaking thighs.
When you finally slumped back onto your hands, boneless and gasping, he rose with predatory grace, wiping his glistening chin on his sleeve. His gaze dropped to where you were still spread open for him, your release glistening on his fingers, and something feral flickered in his expression.
"Still think I’m overreacting about Halden?" he asked, his voice hoarse.
You laughed breathlessly, pushing to sit up straighter despite the aftershocks still sparking through your limbs.
"I think," you said, reaching for your husband and father of your baby with trembling fingers. "You really know how to treat your wife well, even when she's five months pregnant with your child."
Xaden smiled then, a real smile this time, and stepped closer, his hand gently resting atop your gently swelled belly. He leaned in, gently kissing your hairline despite the way he just absolutely shattered you from the inside out.
"Especially when she's pregnant with my child," he reiterated, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. His fingers tilted your chin up to look at him, his usually hard features softening as you gazed up at him.
Sighing, his own gaze softened as he stared down at the two most precious things in his life.
"You grow more beautiful each day, Y/N," he whispered, his thumb brushing your cheek. "And you're going to be a wonderful mother."
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.
Summary: How would our Fourth Wing men react to walking in on their girl pleasuring themselves? Let's find out.
Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. Masturbation. Use of pet names. Signet Use - Shadowplay. Voyeurism. Teasing/Stimulation. Oral (F receiving). Insinuated P in V unprotected Sex. Very very slight Onyx Storm spoiler (use of a line a character says).
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Garrick
This man would just walk into your room without even knocking, catching you in the act. At first you wouldn’t even notice he was there, too caught up in what you we’re doing. Eyes closed as you pleasure yourself, your brain thinking of how good Garrick had looked earlier in challenges.
Garrick would close the door behind him quietly, his eyes completely focused on you and what you’re doing. His eyes watching every move you make, listening to the little moans and gasps coming from your lips. He’d be content on watching till just the right moment to make his presence known. Which is when his name falls from your lips.
He walks over to your bed, quietly removing his shirt and boots so he doesn’t alert you to his presence, before kneeling next your bed and pulling you towards him. Garrick chuckles as you shriek with surprise before trying to scramble away and cover yourself.
He’d tighten his grasp on your hips before standing up and leaning over you, pinning your wrists above your head as he looks down at your. “Where do you think you’re going sweetheart? You can’t moan my name like that and not expect me to do something about it.”
Before you can respond Garrick kneels back down and continues what you’d stopped, his fingers and mouth having you moaning and gasping before coming all over them multiple times.
Bodhi
He’d also just walk in, but unlike Garrick he would not be as subtle about it. He’d walk in, look over at your bed, eyes going wide as he scrambles to shut the door behind him with a loud bang which startles you.
Bodhi just stares at you with his hand still on the door he’s slammed shut. Torn between shocked and turned on at what he’s walked in on you doing, which causes you to giggle at him as you get up and walk over to him.
His eyes trailing over your naked body as you walk over to him, still unsure how to react to what he saw. He’s also a little hurt you had resorted to pleasuring yourself. But he was meant to be gone on a supply run till tomorrow.
Just as you get to him he’d snap out of it, grabbing your arm before he spins you both around, pinning you to the door before he kneels in front of you. Smirking up at you as he hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, exposing you to him.
“Don’t worry darling, I’m here to take care of you now.” He tells you before devouring you.
Xaden
He’d know what you were up to before he even walked in to the door. He’d sneak in so he wouldn’t disturb you, leaning up against the door as he watches you pleasure yourself. Listening to the little noises you’d make while you pleasure yourself.
He wouldn’t walk over to you, instead he’d try something a little different. He’d control his shadows, slowly creeping them towards you so you wouldn’t be alerted to their presence and therefore his. Slowly they’d caress your body, adding to what you’re doing.
After a while Xaden wouldn’t be able to help himself and would make his presence known. His shadows no longer being soft and gentle. Instead they would wrap around your wrists, pulling them above your head as your eyes snap open and meet Xaden’s onyx eyes as he leans over you.
“So desperate. Not even a night and you’re already pleasuring yourself.” He’d teases as his shadows caress your body, causing you to tug at the one’s holding your wrists captive before you throw your head back and moan as they caress between your legs. “Now let me show you how it’s actually done.”
Liam
He’d close the door behind him lean up against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and smirk at the sight before him.
“Well, what do we have here?” He’d tease, not even trying to hide the fact he’s walked in on you.
You go to cover yourself up at the shock of Liam walking in on you, but he rushes forward and stops you, a soft smile on his lips as he looks down at you, his blonde hair flopping into his eyes.
“Don’t stop on my behalf love.” He’d say softly before kneeling between your legs, shrugging off his jacket and shirt. “We’re just getting started.”
He’d pull you back down the bed towards him as you yelp and giggle at his actions, before leaning in and placing soft kisses on your inner thigh before continuing what you’d started.
Dain
He’d be about to walk in, hand on the door handle when he’d hear you cry out. He’d mistake it for you being in pain and rush in ready to help you, but stop mid stride as your eyes snap open and meet his while you’re fingers are still inside you.
“Close the door!” You’d shriek at him, grabbing a pillow to throw at him before he quickly shuts the door, even though it’s later at night and no one is out in the halls. “I thought you were on patrol tonight?”
That was the only reason you’d chosen to do what you were doing. You were needy, had been craving him after watching him win his challenge with ease. But he’d been assigned patrol tonight, and you knew he wouldn’t drop it for the fact you were horny and desperate for him. So you’d done what you always did when he had a late night patrol.
“They had too many people on so they gave me the night off.” He tells you as he walks over to you. He reaches out and cups your cheek, not intending to read your thoughts, but because he’s so tired his shields aren’t as strong as they usually were. And he gets an insight to your thoughts. And he see’s this is not the first time you’ve done this.
“Do you do this every time I have patrol?” He says with shock, not expecting this to be a regular occurrence.
You bite your lip and nod as you aver your eyes from his, not sure if he’s angry that you do this regularly. It’s not your fault he looks so good taking on his opponents during challenges and always has patrols the same night.
“Eyes on me.” He tells you as he grips your chin and turns your head back towards him, causing your breath to catch in your throat. “Let’s get you taken care of.”
Brennan
He’d walk in as per normal, completely run down and tired from a day dealing with the assembly, shrugging out of his clothes. He’d look up, seeing your bed empty. You’d clearly been here though, the sheets messed up as if you’d gone to lie down.
Then he hears it. Your soft moans echoing from the bathroom door that’s open ever so slightly. The sound already having him hard and wanting you even with how tired and drained he is.
He pushes open the door to see you sat in the bathtub facing away from him, head thrown back over the edge with your eyes shut as you moan and shiver.
As he gets closer he can hear the water running, but the bath sounds suspiciously empty. And that’s when he see’s why you’re sat the way you are. The water is on, but it’s purpose is not to fill the bath. It’s to pleasure you, while you pump your fingers in and out. He can’t deny he’s not impressed by your creativeness.
He leans over the bathtub, being careful not to touch you as he turns the water off. Your eyes fly open, meeting Brennan’s amber eyes as he braces himself on the edge of the bathtub and looks down at you.
“Look at you being creative in my absence.” He teases as he reaches out and caresses your cheek, his thumb running over your swollen lip where you’ve tugged and dragged it though your teeth. “Now lets get you dried off so I can finish what you’ve started.”
Aaric
He would not be subtle about walking in on you. You wouldn’t hear him walk in, but he’d make his presence known. He’d stand there, arms crossed over his chest as he looks at you.
“Well, what do we have here.” He’d tease, a smirk pulling at the edge of his lips as you startle at his words, sitting upright as you scurry back on your bed clutching your chest till you realise it’s Aaric in your room.
He’d walk over to your bed, slowly taking off his boots, jacket and shirt before slowly undoing the ties of his pants and pushing them down his legs, watching as you squirm under his gaze before he kneels on your bed.
He’d grasp your ankles, pulling you towards him as you yelp in surprise. He’d push your legs apart before positioning himself between them and leaning over you as he braces himself on your bed with a hand either side your head.
He’d rock back and forth, the head of his dick slowly back and forth, teasing you as you squirm beneath him. “Someone’s needy tonight.” He’d murmur against your lips.
“P-please Aaric.” You’d beg as he continues to slowly rock back and forth, sometimes pushing the tip in just a little bit before pulling back out and going back to what he was doing.
“Please what? Use your words sweetheart.” He’d tell you, wanting you to beg for him. He might despise his father and everything his family stands for. But he can’t help but crave the way you beg and plead for him to please you.
And finally you do, begging him to fuck you, to ruin you. To give you what you’d been imagining in your mind before he walked in. “Good girl.”
Garrick Tavis x Rider!Reader (given last name, Hammons)
Summary: She isn’t ready, but she's managed to survives anyway. Brittle and quiet and stubborn in all the wrong places. Bound by their dragons, Garrick is forced to train a cadet who flinches from help as much as she flinches from blows, and he can’t decide if she’s a liability or not.
Warning: none
Word Count: 1.5k
A/N: Hello! I'm back after the madhouse these past few months have been. I've had this sitting in my drafts for almost a year now and recently found it. Don't know what it could lead to but I guess we'll see. I also have more parts for my Brennan story and Dain story as well, just struggling with time management.
The sky is bright, too bright. The kind of light that makes everything feel harsher than it needs to — the heat on your back, the ache in your shoulder, the weight of your boots scraping across the packed dirt of the sparring ring.
You don't want to be here.
Not like this.
But Kyerra had pushed the thought into your head the second you finished formation. A gentle nudge. Go. Try. Survive. You hated how easily you listened.
Garrick Tavis is already waiting when you arrive. He looks exactly how you'd expect him to — like a threat. Black sleeveless training shirt clinging to the muscles across his shoulders, hair slightly damp from a run, blades strapped neatly across his back even though it's supposed to be a hand-to-hand session. Always ready. Always armed.
His eyes land on you the moment you step into the ring.
"You're late."
You barely hold back a sigh. "I'm early."
"You were supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago."
You press your lips together. Maybe I was hoping you'd leave. Instead, you say nothing and cross to the center of the ring. Garrick tosses you a wooden training blade. You catch it, hand closing around the hilt with more force than necessary. The familiar weight settles in your palm like disappointment.
"What's the plan?" you ask, keeping your voice as flat as possible.
He doesn't rise to the bait. "Stay alive. Improve. Build muscle memory."
"And you're here because..."
"Our dragons are mated," he says bluntly. "That makes you my problem now."
Your jaw tightens. You hate how small those words make you feel. He steps into a loose combat stance. It looks casual, but you've seen enough of him in the field to know he can kill someone in half a breath. You don't take a stance. Not yet.
"I don't need your help," you say.
"You need help," he replies, not cruelly, just factually. "You just don't like that it's coming from me."
"You've never paid attention to me before now. Why would I believe you care if I make it?"
Something shifts in his expression — not guilt, not pity. Just clarity. "Because now I have to."
The words hit harder than they should. You drop into a defensive stance, eyes on the dirt. The blade feels wrong in your hand, your stance too rigid, your chest too tight. You already know how this will go: he'll hit you, you'll fall, and it'll confirm every quiet thing you already believe about yourself.
Too slow. Too weak. Too late.
He circles you, eyes scanning your posture, your grip, your hesitation. "You're fast on your feet," he mutters. "But you don't use it. Your steps are light — that's rare. Most cadets stomp around like they're toddlers."
You don't respond.
"You should lean into that. Use your silence."
You swallow hard. It's the first compliment you've received since Threshing. It doesn't make you feel better. It makes you feel like a fraud. He comes at you with a simple forward strike — slow, deliberate. A test. You knock it away, but your balance is off, and your foot skids on the dirt.
"Again."
You reset. Move. Strike.
He blocks easily. "You hesitate before every attack."
"I don't—"
"You do."
You grind your teeth. "Maybe I'm not good at this."
"That's obvious," he says without venom. "But with time and training, you could be."
Your stomach twists. That flicker of potential — it feels worse than being ignored. Worse than being insulted. Because if you could be good, then not being good is a choice. A failure. Your fault.
He backs off, blade dropping slightly.
"Why are you fighting against this?" he asks, genuinely confused.
You blink at him. "Because I don't need anyone to hold my hand."
"I'm not holding your hand," he snaps. "I'm giving you a chance to survive."
He steps forward, frustration bleeding into his voice now. "You want to prove something? Then stop sabotaging yourself."
You step back. His words land like slaps.
"I'm not—"
"You are," he cuts in. "You're angry. I get it. You didn't want to be here. You didn't want Kyerra. You sure as hell didn't want me. But you're here. You bonded a dragon. That means you fight. You learn. You adapt."
You hate that he's right.
You hate that your eyes are starting to sting.
You hate that you can feel Kyerra in the back of your mind — quiet, calm, waiting.
You lower your blade. Your arm trembles, not from exertion but from everything else — the pressure, the noise in your own head, him.
"Fuck this."
You drop the blade to the dirt and turn away.
"Y/N."
You keep walking.
His voice sharpens behind you. "Hammons—"
You don't stop. You don't even look back. Because if you do, you'll crack. And you've already done enough of that for one day.
You shove open the gate of the sparring ring and leave it swinging behind you. The courtyard is empty. No one to see. No one to ask why your eyes are glassy or why your fists are clenched like you're holding the pieces of yourself together.
You didn't need that.
You didn't need him barking orders like you hadn't been surviving on your own for weeks. Like his sudden attention meant something. Like he was the answer to a question you never wanted to ask.
Your boots hit the stone steps unevenly as you climb them, fast, like you can outrun the burn in your chest. It's all pointless anyway. You're not strong. Not like the others. Not built for this.
You didn't earn Kyerra — she chose you for reasons you still don't understand. Garrick only started noticing you because of her, not because of anything you did. You're still the same girl who stood in the sparring circle two weeks ago and got knocked on her ass in thirty seconds flat. Dragon or no dragon.
A fluke.
That's all this is.
You make it to the empty barracks and sit down on the edge of your bunk hard, hands shaking in your lap. Kyerra is still there — warm, quiet, patient. Like she trusts you'll come back around.
You curl forward, resting your elbows on your knees. The silence presses in.
He doesn't leave the ring, not right away. He stands there in the heat, her training blade in one hand, the silence loud in the space she left behind.
Dust settles. His jaw ticks.
She dropped it like it meant nothing — like he meant nothing. Just another voice trying to bark her into submission. Another threat to ignore. He exhales slowly through his nose.
"You handled that poorly," Chradh says, his voice cutting clean through his thoughts.
Garrick's hand tightens on the hilt.
Here we go.
"She walked away," he mutters. "Wouldn't listen, wouldn't even try. What do you want me to do, beg?"
"I want you to adjust."
Garrick scoffs. "She doesn't respond to orders. Doesn't respond to anything. She's been here for months now and has barely spoken to a single squadmate. She failed her first two grappling exams. She's late to formation half the time and somehow always disappears after drills. And I've let it slide because I didn't think she'd make it past Threshing."
He throws the training blade down into the dirt, the thunk dull and unsatisfying.
"But she did."
Chradh doesn't answer. And that silence grates more than anything.
"You've been pestering me about her for weeks," Garrick says, pacing the edge of the ring now, dragging a hand down his face.
"She needs help."
Garrick grits his teeth. "That's not a reason."
"It's a truth."
He stops walking. Glares out across the empty field.
"She's a liability," he says finally, quieter now. "You know that. You've seen what I've seen."
"She's not a liability. She's unfinished."
He flexes his fingers, jaw working silently. Chradh never spoke about people like that. Not unless he saw something. And that? That's what pisses him off the most. Because Garrick can't see it.
He's been watching her now — really watching — and all he sees is a cadet flinching at every challenge, closing herself off from people who try to help. She's smart — sure. Observant. Quiet on her feet in a way that makes him take notice. But she doesn't use any of it. She holds back in sparring. She doesn't speak in tactical briefings. She avoids conflict until it lands right on top of her.
She survived Threshing.
But barely.
And now she's bonded to a dragon mated to Chradh. Which means Garrick is tied to her whether he understands her or not. Whether she wants him or not. He runs a hand over his jaw, tracing the edge of the scar. There's something in her. Something she's burying. And for whatever reason, Chradh's decided that Garrick is the one who's going to dig it out.
He exhales, grounding his hands on his hips.
"Fine," he mutters. "Fine. You want me to help her, I'll help her."
